clutching your teddy bear while stepdaddy!toji fucks you nasty
wc ; ~700 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚
You were on your stomach, face buried deep into your fluffy pink teddy bear, clutching tight onto it.
Toji’s massive body hovered over you, knees planted on each side of your bent over body on the bed as he shoved your thighs apart wider. His thick cock was already halfway inside your soaked pussy, stretching you open in that brutal, familiar way.
“Fuck… still so tight every time,” he growled low, voice rough and lazy. He pushed in deeper with one slow, heavy thrust until his hips were flush against your ass, balls pressed against your clit.
You let out a broken whimper into the teddy bear, biting down hard on its soft ear.
Toji chuckled darkly, one hand gripping your waist while the other reached up to push your head harder into the pillow.
“Shhh. Bite your little bear if you gotta, but keep that noise down. Wouldn’t want your mom waking up to see her precious daughter getting fucked stupid by her stepdad, would we?”
He pulled back almost all the way, letting you feel every inch drag out of your dripping cunt, before slamming back in so hard your body jolted forward. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room.
You squeaked into the teddy, tears already wetting its fur. Toji leaned down, his scarred lip brushing your ear as he started pounding you with deep, nasty strokes.
“Yeah… that’s it. Hug your fuckin’ teddy tighter while I ruin this pussy.”
Every thrust was mean and deliberate just like his words. His thick cock bullied your walls, hitting that spot that made your toes curl and your brain melt. Your juices were dripping down your thighs, making a mess on the sheets.
“Look at you,” he grunted, voice dripping with mockery, “clutching that stuffed animal like a good girl while your stepdad splits you open. Pathetic… and so fucking wet for me.”
He reached under you and rubbed rough circles on your swollen clit, making your legs shake violently.
You moaned louder into the bear, hips twitching back against him even as you tried to run from the overwhelming pleasure. Toji laughed low, speeding up, fucking you harder, the bed creaking under his power.
“Gonna cum already? Go ahead, baby. Cream on daddy’s cock while you cry into your teddy. Just don’t scream… or I’ll have to stuff that pretty mouth next.” He threatened.
His pace turned rapid, hips snapping against your ass with wet, filthy sounds as he chased his own high, grunting against your neck.
You were a trembling, drooling mess — face smashed into the soaked teddy bear, pussy clenching tight around Toji’s cock as he fucked you through it, nasty and unrelenting.
He came with a loud groan, buried in you to the hilt. He pulled his glistening cock out of your creampied and slapped the heavy, messy tip of his cock against your sensitive pussy. Once, twice, three times, the wet — smack smack smack — sounds echoing obscenely in the quiet room.
“Fuck… look at that,” he rasped, voice low and satisfied. “Such a greedy little cunt. Couldn’t even keep all of daddy’s cum inside.”
He dragged his cum-covered tip up and down your slit, smearing the mess all over your swollen folds and clit, occasionally giving your pussy another firm slap that made you whimper out.
“Aw, don’t cry into your little bear now,” he mocked, leaning down so his lips brushed your ear. “You took it so well… even when I was balls deep breeding you.”
He gave your ass a rough squeeze, then slid two thick fingers down to push some of his leaking cum back inside your puffy pussy.
“Keep it in there like a good girl. I’ll be back in the morning to fuck it right back in. Understand?”
You nodded weakly into the teddy bear, too fucked out to speak, as he pats your head.
Toji smirked, finally pulling away. He gave your ass one last hard slap before standing up, his cum still dripping down your thighs as he tucked his messy cock back into his sweats.
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you own my mind (18+ only mdni)
part 2 ·♡· part 3
pairings - stepbro!sukuna x stepsis!reader
warnings - pseudo incest. stepcest. heavy dubcon/(kinda)noncon. use of big brother/little sister. manipulation. frottage.
word count - 2.8k
The first time you meet Sukuna is at a nice restaurant your parents made reservations for. Your mother is smiling at his father, Jin; both hoping that you will get along with each of his sons.
Yuji is sweet, bubbly and outgoing. Choso is kind but far more reserved and keeps to himself, except when Yuji urges him to join the conversation. And then there is Sukuna, quiet except to say comments that had the whole table falling into complete silence.
He's huge and has a menacing look across his face, eyeing you like he was measuring up how worthy you were of his time. As a third year collegiate rugby player he is a mountain of a man. tattoos streaming down his face and arms, and piercings accentuating the sharpness of his features.
Each move you make is strategic, not wanting to disappoint your mother in impressing her new beau. Everyone seems to be getting along with the exception of the broody oldest son. It doesn't help that the only chair available was seated at the end of the table, right next to Sukuna.
Your mother prompts you to tell everyone what you’re studying in college and just as you speak up a rough, warm hand lands on the middle of your thigh. Not moving or inching any higher, just claiming its place on your lap. The look Sukuna gives you is a challenge, are you going to disrupt the peace and say something, or will you stay silent and keep everyone placated?
And you do just that. You keep the conversation going despite trying to subtly remove his hand from your leg. It doesn’t work anyway, the warm palm remains in place until he decides to move it.
After testing the waters during your first time meeting, Sukuna can’t help but lay it on heavier once your families merge and move in together after the wedding. ‘Just until you’ve graduated’ is all they asked of you all, your parents wanting to live as a real family for even just one year.
Your mother had always wanted a large family and after the incident with your father this was her one chance to live out her dream. Who were you to deny that happiness you thought. Sukuna on the other hand would have told his father to fuck off and continue living on campus but the idea of such a tempting juicy peach living under the same roof was too good to pass up.
The first day of living together and he’s already grinding against your ass as he passes by you in the crowded kitchen before heading off for practice. If you showered too late at night he was standing right outside the bathroom, catching an eyeful whenever he could. Rationalizing it as a coincidence only lasted so long before you realized he was just a massive pervert.
Then you try to avoid him, leaving an hour after he heads off to campus, showering and locking your door before he gets back home, even settling for eating in your room if you had to. Tonight you pray that he’s off at some frat party with his teammates where he can bother some other poor girl.
You’re tucked in bed, scrolling aimlessly through videos until you feel exhausted enough to sleep when you hear a single sharp knock on your door. Half asleep, you don't think twice about who was on the other side. Opening it carefully, just a sliver of light from the hallway illuminates your vision, and you see him. Sukuna towers over you and wedges himself between the door frame.
“What do you want?” you ask, disappointed that it was him at your door. You should have kept it shut. You attempt to close it but his foot blocks the motion.
“Need your help.” Is all he says before pushing the door wider and walking inside your room. He turns on your desk lamp, offering the room a small amount of light.
“With wha-“ you couldn’t finish your question due to him completely removing the tight t-shirt that covered him. You just stared, stunning and unsure of what to do.
You checked your phone, it was midnight and you knew everyone else was already asleep. “What the fuck are you doing?” mustering just enough courage to whisper angrily at him.
“I have a muscle strain. You don’t want it to turn into a full injury do you?” Sukuna asks before laying across your bed, taking up nearly the whole expanse as he lays on his stomach.
You feel sick, unsure of how you’re going to get him to leave, yet not wanting to wake up your mother when you know she has work in the morning.
“So why are you here? Go to your room.”
“I want my new baby sister to help me out. Use those pretty little hands to ease my pain.”
“I'm not touching you. Get out!” you keep your voice as steady as you can manage with the lump forming in your throat.
“Come on, be the good sister your mommy wants you to be and help me out,” he waves the arm he wants attention on, “lower left shoulder. I fucked it up during a tackle.”
He has you stuck between two impossible decisions; start a rift in the harmony your mom has been wishing for, or give in to the brute on your bed.
He lets out a satisfactory chuckle as you approach the bed and stare down at his back. There is a large bruise there, it looks painful so you’re careful as your hands ghost along the tanned skin. Your eyes trace the markings of his tattoos, hypnotized by the way they curve along his developed muscles.
“What am I supposed to do?” you ask, trying to hide the nerves in your voice.
“Just massage it until the swelling goes down. If you're good, I'll return the favor.”
You let out a disgusted scoff, not trusting your speech to give him a more suitable response.
You work your fingers around the edges of his injury, listening intently for any sound of discomfort. Your back strains as you hunch over the bed to reach his left side but you don’t make any fuss, not wanting his attention brought back to you.
“You’re pretty good at this. I might have to keep you around when the season actually starts up.”
“This wasn’t even from a match?” You question before thinking better. Do not engage in conversation with him, you chide yourself.
“Hell no. This is from practice.” Sukuna turns himself over onto his back and looks at you clearly. “I’d probably have a broken tooth or a fucked up leg if this was a real match.”
You can't stop your eyes from roaming over the expanse of his chest in the low light of your bedroom, scars and bruises litter the front of him as well. “Why do it then?” you ask.
“Full tuition, room and board paid for by the college. Plus I get to break the noses of a few dickheads every week. What’s not to like?”
Just when you let your guard down and think you can have a normal conversation with him, Sukuna proves you wrong. He sits up and grabs your arm, dragging you over him onto the mattress. Within seconds you go from carefully standing away from him to completely straddling his lap.
You try to pull yourself away from him but his broad hands keep your hips in place on his lap. Each buck of your hips only serves to make him crazier. You freeze once you realize that your movements were causing a smile to break across his face.
“My clavicle hurts too. Get to work.” He punctuated with a playful but sharp smack on your ass.
You ask yourself why you’re still doing this but the way he looks at you has you pinned to the spot. His body is a work of art you regretfully notice, maybe you can just pretend it’s someone else as you get to massaging. Your hands move towards his shoulders as both a way to balance yourself and to work on the tense muscles.
You regret all of this now, wanting to go back in time and keep your door locked, wishing you had the guts to just tell your mother or Jin that you couldn’t stay in the house with his son any longer. Sukuna shamelessly stared at your tits through the v-cut camisole you wore tonight, his cock stirring underneath you.
And you bit your tongue, staying silent about the way you could feel his length pressing between your legs. The silk sleep shorts you had on did little to stop you from sensing the heavy prod of his bulge through his sweatpants.
You feel the hands on your hips tighten, fingers digging into flesh as Sukuna slides your back and forth on his lap. Each attempt to lift yourself off of him only made the movements that much more intense.
“Stop it, Sukuna.” You try to warn him despite knowing it will fall on deaf ears.
“Fuck, say my name again, baby.” He groans under his breath, eyes focused on the way your chest begins to rise and fall with each increasing breath.
“Don’t call me that,” you manage to gasp out just before one of his hands yanks your flimsy shorts and underwear to the side and makes your bare cunt grind against his hard-on.
Tears form in your eyes; a mixture of frustration, embarrassment, and the disgust at how quickly you were being affected by the bucking of his hips. He lifts a hand to wipe at your tears with his thumb before taking the digit into his mouth and savoring the salty stream running down your face.
“Baby, don’t cry. Your big brother will fix everything, just be a good girl for me, okay?”
Sukuna uses that same saliva coated thumb to press circles over your clit. You nod and throw your head back, able to do nothing except take the pleasure he’s offering, at least that’s what you have to tell yourself to stay sane.
As you get lost in the feeling of your building climax, he slips his cock out of the confines of his sweats, pulling you forward to grind on his length. You moan at the feeling of your slick meeting warm skin, taking a moment to realize what he’s just done.
Hands push on his chest for leverage, once again fighting him, but his own strong arms shift to grab the back of your thighs, keeping you trapped right where he wants you. You beg him to stop but he doesn’t listen.
“Call me big brother and I promise I won’t put my dick inside you yet.”
“No! Just stop!”
Now you have him running out of patience. Little did you know, this was Sukuna on his best behavior. You brought out something in him that he couldn’t control.
“Do it or I’ll knock on the wall until our parents walk in the room. And trust me, I’ll hold you right here,” he ruts his cock even faster against your slit, your whole body jolting with the force of his arms moving you, “and let everyone in this house get a good look at how fucked out you look on top of me right now.”
“Hnnnn-” You cry out as you clench around nothing, aching for more contact and yet wanting it to all end. “Big brother, please. I just wanna cum!”
Sukuna pulls you closer to him and his mouth sucks on your nipple through the silk of your camisole. The new angle has your clit rubbing directly along his shaft causing electric-like pulses to flow through your body.
Each nip and tug of his teeth mixed with the twitching of his cock has your head swimming. You can’t hold back the moans that slip out between your clenched jaw.
“Fuck…” Sukuna takes a moment to look down as your thighs begin to tense and shake, “you’re soaking my cock, you little slut.”
There’s no more holding back, your clit cannot take anymore of the slick friction it’s receiving. You clamp a hand over your mouth as you cry out a slew of names and insults at him while riding out your climax.
Once your hips still on their own Sukuna has you flipped onto your back, him now straddling your hips. He dips two fingers between your folds, gathering a pool of your slick to lube the rest of his cock with.
You did not get the chance to see it very well before but your eyes widen at how large and girthy his cock was. The thickness alone makes you want to run and hide. It also causes the most disgusting impulsive images of him fucking you with that big dick to run through your mind.
Sukuna positions himself between your legs, as if he was going to fuck you in missionary. One arm pressed into the mattress by your head and the other stroking his cock, all while staring into your eyes intensely.
You feel more naked under his glare now than you did on top of him with his mouth and hands roaming your body. Despite how badly you want to, you can’t look away, like you’re being frozen in place by his ruby eyes.
His face tenses, jaw ticked and brows furrowed. He grunts your name once and then you feel splatter after splatter of his cum hitting your stomach and bare pussy. The silk shorts you’re wearing are completely ruined by the stains setting in.
Your high is gone, everything turning stone cold sober. With a raised hand you unleash your anger onto his cheek. The slap was louder than you intended but not harsh enough to wipe the satisfaction off his face. He grabbed you by the back of your head, pulling your faces closer before claiming your lips. His tongue invades your mouth as you try to kick and push him away.
“You’re gonna be a good baby sister right? I’m not gonna have to show your mom that stash of weed you have in your drawers, will I?” Sukuna coos at you despite the severe threat laying underneath the sweet voice he used for you.
He’s been in your room? Of course he has. It’s no wonder the lock on your door sticks and sometimes doesn’t work at all. Sukuna had probably been picking the lock since you first moved in together. But the last thing you needed was her to hear about the weed you have. The first time she caught you smoking she nearly called the cops on you.
“What’s your problem? Why me? Why are you doing this to me?” You plead.
Sukuna gathers a stream of his cum between his fingers, smearing his spend between your folds, amused by the tempestuous expression you gave as he mixed your releases together
“Because I can. Because I want to. Because I want something that’s only mine.” He says all of this so flippantly, as if his harassment against you was destined fate. “You’re my type, you know that? Pretty eyes, cute face, smart as hell, secretly kinky.”
Your brows crease in confusion, “you know nothing about me. You’re fucking delusional.”
Sukuna finally removes himself from on top of you, putting his softened but still too large of a cock back inside his underwear. He’s half way across the threshold of your room, ready to finally leave you alone before he turns back casually.
“You know, baby sister,” he enjoys the way you cringe at that name, “your laptop and phone sync your history and logins. The shit you’ve been watching on there makes me look like a saint.”
“Leave me the fuck alone!”
“Maybe that’s what we’ll do later. I’ll show you my collection and you show me just what makes that pretty pussy of yours so wet. Maybe your big brother will let you try some of it out with him.”
He’s taunting you and it’s working. You hate how your cheeks flush and your eyes gloss over as his deep voice hits you in ways that make you want to die.
“That’s no amateur shit you're watching. Cages, rope, anal, fucking piss and spitting. Yeah, you’re my dream girl.”
You throw a pillow at him, wishing it was a brick instead, but he simply dodges it anyway and leaves you for the night. Now you have to find a way to get some sleep despite the cold cum drying on your skin and the knowledge that his threats are making your cunt throb in anticipation.
cw: stepcest, dubcon, drugging, kidnapping, piss
11.3k words
Toji's brain feels like it's throbbing inside his skull. His body doesn't feel particularly good either. He can't remember where he is or how he got there. In fact, all he does remember is taking his cute little step daughter out to dinner after you'd blown up his phone, telling him how much you missed him after you'd moved out. Now, he's sitting practically naked in what seemed to be a oversized dog kennel with no idea how he could've been stuffed inside without so much as waking up. The room he's in is unfamiliar, pitch black and quiet almost to the point of madness.
"G'morning 'Ji." Your familiar voice rings out behind him. The light flicks on somewhere behind where you're looming over him, smiling as if this is the most normal thing in the world. As if he had put himself in the damn kennel like a dog.
"What the fuck is going on?" He growls. Forgetting his limitations and extending too far up onto his knees, he hits his head on the bars above him. Your smile broadens, bordering on uncanny as you step closer to him— your slippers making an irritating sound against the fake wood flooring, a sound that makes his head hurt even more.
"Oh, don't be mean 'Ji. I told you I missed you, didn't I?" Your bottom lip juts out, body bent at a 90 degree angle with your elbows resting on the cage above him, peering down at him like a predator observing its prey.
"Are you out of your fucking mind?" He spits, his back pressed into cool metal as he tries in vain to put as much distance between the two of you as possible. You cross your arms, tapping your foot like the spoiled brat he's always known you to be.
"Well if you're gonna be an ass, you can stay here all night by yourself," your voice flattens. The sweet facade you always have on dissipates, your maniacal smile falling until your lips are pursed into a thin line. You turn on your heel, slippers making that agitating sound against the floor again. He watches in horror as you flick the light off, encasing him in pitch black darkness once again. A cold sweat beads down his temple as the door opens, a small sliver of natural light peeking in like a tease. He calls out your name, hands banging against the bars, but you just flick your head over your shoulder with that pretty facade of sweetness pulling the corners of your lips up— but your eyes? They're devoid of anything, the little twinkle he'd always seen in them snuffed out.
"G'night daddy," you coo, waving your fingers at him. A chill spider walks its way down his spine, his mouth running dry. The cage is starting to close in on him.
"C'mon sweetheart, not gonna leave your daddy all alone in here, now are you?" It's rushed, like he'd barely thought out the words before they come flying out from between his lips like bile. They'd tasted just the same. His placating seems to have worked when you all but appear right back in front of the cage, squatted down so you're eye level now.
"See, was that so hard?" You giggle, "I just want us to be together 'Ji, I'm not asking for too much, am I?" You rest your chin in your hand, those pretty puppy dog eyes doing their best to sway him despite the uncomfortable position you've put him in.
"No. No, sweetheart. You're not asking for too much. Never, my sweet girl." He's smiling back at you, trying to feign excitement so hard that the scar on his lip feels like its gonna split all over again. "Let me out and we can do whatever you want. I'll stay as long as you like."
You laugh, but not in the cute way. No, it's vicious and exempt from anything remotely close to happy. "Oh, but we're already doing what I want." You let out a little tsk his way, "And I can keep you here forever."
His eyes blow wide, green with too much white surrounding it. Your sadistic side throwing him for a loop, you'd always been so well behaved in all the years he'd been married to your mom. Never speaking out of turn, never getting in to trouble, always playing nice and making both him and Megumi feel welcome.
"Why are you doing this?" His jaw is set tight, discombobulation twisting into anger that he tries to push down to attempt at reasoning with you. "You've always been such a good kid."
Your head cocks to the side as if you're truly confused, a little crease forming between your brow. "Well I want you for myself, of course." You say it like it's a very normal thing to say to your step father after locking him up to get your way.
"But I'm married to your mother. Megs is like your little brother." You shake your head at his words as if it'll erase them like an etch-a-sketch. "Baby, I think you're just confused."
"I am not confused." Your voice has dropped into that low, lifeless tone again. He can feel the frustration roiling off you. "You don't even love her, so what's the problem? I waited for years so she'd put Megs through school. I waited for you Toji."
The look in your eyes is pushing him somewhere beyond discomfort, his back still stuck against the the wall behind him. You weren't wrong. He didn't hold any romantic love for your mother, though he was grateful to her for putting his son through college. He was fond of her in the way you would be with a long time friend and didn't feel much else for her beyond it. But in no way did that mean he wanted you, her daughter.
"You realize how crazy this is right?" He watches as your fingers thread through the bars, reaching for him. "I can't be with my step daughter."
"But you can. And you're going to, one way or another." Your fingers reach his bent knee, tracing odd shapes on it he realizes spell out ' I ♡ U '. Goosebumps lick their way up his skin and you smile as you watch them map themselves out. "We're gonna be just like a real couple. Go on dates and live together and give Megs a little brother or sister."
It's his turn to laugh now, his anger bursting to the surface. "You're a fucking psychopath. Listen to me and listen good." His face comes up to the bars, his mouth barely clearing the space between them. "That is never going to fucking happen."
Your face inches closer, the smell of tobacco, cheap beer and sweat wafting over your skin. "Guess I'm just gonna have to train you real good." It's barely above a whisper and Toji doesn't realize how terribly he's fucked up until the hand you'd stuck through is wrapped around the hairs at the nape of his neck. Your face is smooshed against the bars, teeth pulling at his bottom lip before pushing his face smack into the bars and having a one-sided makeout sesh. You're moaning against his mouth, tongue poking at the small gap between his lips for entry that he won't allow. You find pleasure in it nonetheless, butterflies blooming in your belly and a heartbeat a few inches lower. He manages to get his wits about him, calloused fingers wrenching your grip free from his hair and pushing you as best he could through the small allowance his enclosure gave him.
You're breathless, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, heart pounding like a young girl in love. You fingers hook into the hem of your dress, bunching it up over your thighs so Toji can see the sticky mess your panties have become.
"Look, 'Ji." You coo, pulling your panties taut so the outline of your puffy cunt is on display. "I'm wet and aching for you. Just from a kiss." There's a deceptive little pout thrown on your face when he turns his head away.
"Get out. Just leave me here to rot for all I care." He grumbles, turning around and facing his back toward you. You stand to your feet, willing yourself to crocodile tears.
"You will love me. Not like I'm your sweet little step kid. You'll love me like a woman." You turn on your heel and leave, the door slamming so hard behind you it shakes in the frame.
That night Toji tries to recount all the ways he may have given you the wrong idea. He doesn't sleep for shit.
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
The next morning, you come into the room with two plates in hand. Toji notices the way you hold one closer to your body, still alert as tired as he is. Your hair is wet, water droplets dripping against the floor, your shirt is flowy but see through enough that he can see your nipples peaking through, the shade made more apparent by the water that's soaked through. He snaps his gaze away, feeling like a dirty old pervert.
"Breakfast!" You sing-song, setting the two plates on the floor just outside his coop. "Point to whichever one you want."
He eyes you suspiciously, pointing to the one you'd kept close to you. This was his chance; you'd open the crate and he'd waste no time grabbing your arm and—
You have to hold back a smile as you slide open the hatch and pass the food through. He'd miscalculated, not realizing you were smart enough to have the cage custom made. All it had cost you was a picture of your tits to the pervy nerd in your Bio-Chem class. You'd always been smart, one step ahead and willing to do whatever it takes to stay that way. You were underestimated because nobody had cared to notice the dutiful daughter and her perverse interests.
You watch him carefully as he takes each bite, the fork sliding past his lips and the way his adams apple bobs each time he swallows. You're fighting the animalistic urge to pull your pussy out and demand he laps at you right then and there. But you've been a patient woman for years now, you can wait a little longer. You eat your fill, dropping your fork on your plate when you're finished and reclining back onto your palms to watch him.
"Gotta piss." He barks out, he glares at you and you have to pretend it hurts to see him that way. As if it's not going to make it more enjoyable for you to break him and watch him beg.
"Mmkay!" You smile, dusting your hands off on your sleep shorts before going to the corner and picking up something he can't see. He's shifting inside his paddock, angling his head as best he can to see what you could possibly be rummaging around for. His heart drops to his ass when he sees handcuffs glinting back at him as you swing them around your finger. You're teasing him and you both know it.
"I'm not putting those on."
"Well, I guess you'll just have to pee yourself then." You sound so sweet it makes him sick. "Save a little for me?"
He makes a disgusted face at you, wanting to hurl his breakfast right up but thinking better of it considering he'd have to sit in close quarters with whatever mess he makes. He puts his wrists up, a little taste of submission that feels so fucking good your head feels like it's spinning. You're giggling to yourself like an idiot, putting the cuffs through the bars and locking them around his wrists as tight as you can. You unlatch the three locks you put in for extra measure, letting him crawl out and helping him to his feet.
Your fingers hook into the chain and begin leading him by it, letting him breathe in the fresh air of your apartment and dragging him toward the bathroom. Your bathroom is larger than he'd been prepared for and he staggers his way to the toilet. You stand behind him, your face pressed close to his back. Even his sweat smells good, it has you rubbing your thighs together. You wrap your arms around his bulking frame, enclosing him in your grasp. Your dainty fingers hook into his briefs, your eyes roll back in delight as you praise yourself for removing the rest of his clothes before you'd stuffed him in the cage. The cuffs come down to halt your movements, the chain tinkling.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" His tone is rough and mean, in that way it used to the few times you'd acted out on purpose to make him scold you. Your teeth graze the skin on his back before continuing your hands movements from before.
"Need help, dontcha?" You giggle, easing the elastane off his bulky hips. He mumbles something about you being a little shit but doesn't hinder you further. He figures the more he gives into your whims, the faster you'll be done with your little game and set him free.
He's wrong of course.
Your mouth waters as his cock springs free, you wrap your digits around it and admire how heavy it feels in your hands— even when it's soft. Your hands moves across the soft skin, pulling your bottom lip into your mouth to hold back a groan when you feel it twitch in your palm as you stroke it.
"Told you I gotta piss, not bust a load." He gruffs. You let out a pouty little noise, deciding to exude kindness and restraint—holding it for him. Your panties dampen when that dam of golden liquid springs free, the way it pulses through the shaft. You want him to slide inside you and release himself there too, you want every little bit of him you can get your hands on. The worst part of it all is, you know you're fucking gross. Wasn't it Toji's fault for bringing it out of you?
"C'mon, shake it out." You can't see his face but his ears are tinged red, it gives you that warm fuzzy feeling inside as you oblige him. 'I made you blush!' you want to squeal, but you feign ignorance for now and do as he says, watching as the droplets make their way to the bowl.
Toji's vision begins to blur at the corners and his knees feel like jell-o. He's been in enough fucked up situations (usually on the other end of them) to know this wasn't exhaustion. His body wasn't connecting to his brain. It takes less than a minute for his vision to black out and his knees to buckle before he's falling to the floor below.
When he comes to he's sat butt naked on the shower floor, the water spraying just outside where his body is sat. He's groggy and out of sorts, he almost forgets the past 20 hours. But when his eyes refocus and he can really hone back in on his sensations, he knows where he is. He can still feel the cuffs around his wrists, his boxers are still gone, and instead of being alone in the shower— you're there. Your pink lips wrapped around his cock, bare ass hoisted up in the air and he doesn't need to see to know you're touching yourself.
You blink up at him, the soft squelching of your mouth around him echoing off the shower tiles. Your eyes crescent up into a smile as you open your throat, sinking all the way down to that coarse patch of hair right above his base. He's frozen, watching as your tits sway each time you gag on him. Your mewls reverberate through his shaft, his toes curling at the sensation. He calls your name and you pop off him, his brow creasing as you focus your hand around his sensitive tip.
"Hm?" You wipe at the corners of your mouth with the thumb on your free hand.
"Did you drug me?" You ogle at the clench of his jaw, his temples perforating. You nod slowly, plugging his tip up with your thumb. He sucks in a sharp inhale through his teeth at your movements. "Why?"
"Was just easier to get you washed up this way." You shrug, as if it's no big deal. "But you were so heavy in my hand, I wanted to see how you felt in my mouth."
He pushes past you, using his foot to kick his boxers into his hands, body dripping wet on the bathroom tiles. He waits for you to open the door and puts himself back in the kennel.
His dick throbs for the rest of the night but he refuses to touch it.
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
The third day he barely talks to you, refusing any and all food that isn't sealed. You find it irritating but let it slide for the sole fact that you'd gotten the pleasure of tasting him last time. Even if it was just precum.
Sadly for him, that had the wheels turning in your head. Thinking of all the ways you could make him want to give you everything you'd been hoping for. You think maybe it's time to be a little nicer so you set up a shitty box TV right in front of his cage, you know the kind that only takes VCR tapes? His eyes light up but his mouth is still etched with a scowl.
"What's this for?" The way his mouth moves is lazy, like he can't be bothered to put more effort into his words. It feels good, both of you with you pretty little masks off. You ignore him, tinkering with all the knobs and buttons and sliding an 80's porn tape into the maw of the television. Your skin pricks with excited goosebumps as moans blare through the blown out speakers.
There's a thin woman on screen, big hair with a full bush to match. Her dexterous fingers tickle between her thighs as her breasts rise and fall through needy pants that turn into a mix of "daddy" and "I need you".
"You gotta be fucking kidding me." Toji's hand swipes over his face, he looks more tired than usual but it somehow adds to that 'older man charm' he's got going on. You crawl over, knees and palms alternating slaps against the vinyl floor as your hips sway toward him.
"Don't worry, if you don't like this one I bought more." You smile, fingers threading back through the bars in an attempt to reach out to him. He doesn't oblige you. Instead ignoring you and laying on his back with his knees propped up. "Gotta give you something to do when I go back on campus tomorrow."
"Listen, kid. You should put all this weird energy into finding a boyfriend, someone who's not me. I know your mom would pay for your therapy or whatever the hell else you need, this isn't the way to get what you want." His lecture falls on deaf ears. You're too caught up in the glowing light from the TV, watching as the older man on the static-y screen gets in bed with the much younger woman. They fit together like two oddly shaped puzzle pieces, your thighs press as he fondles her tits, pinching and pulling at the blushing peaks.
Your head turns back toward Toji, there's a little tent in his pants but you know he's not even halfway hard. It frustrates you beyond belief. Even more so with the all the drooling your pussy is doing while the man on the TV stuffs his fingers inside her, pulling them out and giving them a good lick.
"'Ji?" You call, lip jutting out into a pout, he lets out an uninterested grunt and continues counting the uneven globs of paint on the ceiling. "You mind if I play with myself?"
He freezes for a moment before slipping back into nonchalance, fingers drumming on his chest. "Don't know why you're asking. You're gonna do whatever the hell you want anyway."
To him it's meant as a very clear sign of disinterest, to you it's an admittance of attraction. A sign that if you just push and prod him just enough he'll give in to your whims. You keep your back to him, deciding that the lack of visuals have a better chance of spurring him into want. He watches your back, the way your spine curves and muscles tense as you pull your cloth shorts off and your underwear along with them. You give him a look over your shoulder before slingshotting your pink thong onto the cage. He grumbles as it sways back in forth in its momentum, like it's trying to hypnotize him.
He can see your legs spread from where's sitting, the way they arch and bend so delicately. Your left arm is positioned back so you can rest on it while the right is bent at the elbow. He doesn't need to guess what the gentle movements and the tinkling of your bracelet means, not when soft little sounds are escaping you. Toji tries to ignore the growing strain in his boxers. Tries even harder not to blame himself for it. He is a man after all.
The tape on the TV has stopped for no one, the 'stepfather' on screen fully sheathing himself inside the whimpering young woman in front of him. She tells him how big he is, how good it feels, how she belongs to him. Toji's unraveling behind you, his balls are full and achy. His cock is practically screaming at him to give it a tug and let go.
He can hear how wet you are, the sound of your fingers pumping in and out of that evil cunt of yours is bouncing off all four walls. Your head is slightly tipped back and your hips are moving in tandem with the sounds of the charms on your bracelet.
"Fuuuuck." You cry out, reaching that spongey spot inside you and pressing, pressing, pressing. It's not enough, especially when you're all too aware of how heavy Toji's cock felt, could imagine how stuffed full you'd feel with it inside you.
Your heads tipped back so far you look like a fucking nightmare. Like you're gonna contort your limbs and start walking on all fours toward him. "Toji, it feels so good."
He's white knuckling so hard he's pretty sure his nails are making his palms bleed. Your movements quicken, the squelch getting louder and louder as your hips lift off the floor. You're panting his name and his tip is leaking pre inside his boxers.
Your voice cracks and your ass makes a loud thud back on the floor below. Back against vinyl, your chest heaving up and down as you try to come back to earth— eyes locked with his green ones the whole time.
You crawl back over to him, holding your fingers up to the cage, spreading them apart to show off the sticky strings of your arousal. He watches a bead of wetness drip down your forearm and his balls are screaming. They hurt. He needs release.
"Wanna taste?" You're looking right at him, he's got half a mind to pop one of your digits in his mouth and suck the taste of you off them. But he can't. It's wrong. So fucking wrong.
Instead of giving into whatever 'male instincts' he's got coursing through him, he turns his nose up at you. He glares as he flicks your panties off the corner of his cage, a little act of defiance that doesn't make him any less hard. You capture his hand in yours— the one not coated with your release— and press and gentle kiss to his knuckles.
"Nighty night. I'll stop in to check on you before I head out." You turn on your heel and leave, naked and ass jiggling as if to taunt him some more.
On the third night, he reaches through the bars, straining to recover your underwear and huffing your panties as soon as you leave. Trying not to stroke himself through his briefs.
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
On the fourth day you wake up at 5am, eyes still heavy with sleep as you walk your way toward the kitchen. You have a good feeling about the likelihood of Toji eating food you've prepared with your own hands. You keep it safe still, popping a couple frozen waffles in the toaster and booting up the coffee pot. You reach up high, stretching your spine as you wait.
College life was mundane. You didn't have any interest in your peers or parties. You were a bright student, sitting at the top of your class in most subjects. But it was boring. It was a struggle not to fall asleep during lectures or pretend you cared about anything anyone your own age had to say. The only interest you'd ever taken in anything was sitting in the lone room at the end of the hall, probably curled up like the perfect little pet.
You felt especially irritated with the fact that it was pulling you away from said pet. That you couldn't be there to play with him all day, to watch his grumpy expression ebb and flow as you did as you pleased. The waffles pop up and the coffee pot quits its whirring. You find yourself funny as you pour it into a mug labeled '#1 DAD' and giggle the whole way down the hall.
To your surprise, Toji is leaning up against the kennel eyes tired as they've ever been. He closes them and hums at the strong smell of coffee and syrupy waffles. You crouch down in front of him, teetering left and right ungracefully on the balls of your feet.
"Wanna come out and eat?" You cock your head to the side, lip pulled into your mouth as you hold back a toothy grin. "I'm gonna be gone most of the day so it'd probably be nice to stretch your legs a bit."
That handsome scowl is still plastered there, like it's the only face he knows how to make anymore. The circles under his eyes are dark, the usual bright green of his irises turned dim. Unbeknownst to you, he couldn't grapple with the fact that he had huffed your panties and humped the hard plastic underneath him like some kinda dog in heat. That sick little part inside you feels ecstatic that you made him this way— though the only thing you have any inclination of making him into is a sleep deprived old man. He shudders at the thought of you knowing what he had been up to for more than half the night. The only thing keeping him sane is the fact that he'd forced himself not to cum. The lie he was spinning to himself about not being such a piece of shit that he'd coat the inside of his boxers while licking your slick out of your panties was becoming hard to hold onto.
"What's the catch?" There was always a catch with you. You wouldn't give him a single thing easy.
"I have to chain your feet." You mumble, taking a sip of the dark liquid that was supposed to be for him and making a face. "Hands too once you've eaten. Y'know insurance and all that."
He sighs, he's walking a thin line and he knows it. He's on the edge of agreeing to anything if it'll give him just a bit more freedom. Hell, he'd take being drugged again. Anything's gotta be better than being cooped up in a dark room like a damn animal.
So he nods. Nice, slow and submissive. You grab the cuffs for the little bit of extra assurance while he makes his way to the seat and small table you have bolted into the floor and wall. You set the food in front of him and he lets you kiss his forehead like you're some freaky Stepford wife before you get onto your knees and chain them together and then attach it to the chair.
Toji's coming to terms with the fact that he may actually be going insane. The whole time you're on your knees he's picturing you with his cock your mouth, nose pressed to his pubes as you choke and gag around him. He remembers the way you smiled, mouth stuffed full with drool running down your chin. It's all your fault, of course.
He snaps out of it when your look back up at him, fashioning your finger in a come hither motion until he juts his hands out for you to remove the handcuffs. You oblige and stand to your feet, dusting your hands off on your bare legs. Your fingers fist the fabric of the shirt you had been nice enough to give him the day prior. His eyes blow wide, the crease between his brow dissipating into nothing. You bring your face close, feigning a kiss but stopping just as your bottom lip brushes his. His breath is ragged, eyes darting around your face as if there's answers hidden beneath your pores. There isn't.
"I'll be back to say bye. So be good and eat up." It's curt and to the point. He looses out a breath when you pull back and make your way to the door. He turns his body and watches you the whole way, pretending to both you and himself that his eyes aren't wandering your frame. Convinced he's only half hard because it's morning and he hasn't cum in days despite being stimulated. He says nothing as you leave the room, just stuffs his gob with waffles and washes the buttery-sweetness down with the bitter taste of coffee.
Once you've pulled yourself from depraved daughter to socially acceptable scholar you return to his side, he's sitting with a hunched back and bored look in his eyes. Your fingers run over the smooth surface of the little device in your hand, elation licking up your spine.
"Alright Ji, I'm off for the day." Your hands itch behind your back as they slip the little cylindrical shaped object in your back pocket. "Gonna miss you while I'm gone."
You unlatch a twin pair of cuffs from where they hang off your belt loops. They give him a larger range of motion, not large enough to hinder the plans you've made him for the day though. He's obedient and almost adorable as he pouts, listening to the click of the cuffs. "How long are ya gonna be gone?"
"Mmm…" You tap your chin, counting the hours in your head. "About 6 hours? Maybe less if I miss you too much."
You jut your bottom lip out in a mock kiss you know he won't return. He sighs and when you look at him he looks like a puppy who's begun missing it's owner before they've even left. It almost makes you go back on your plan. Almost.
"I lied a bit." You bite your lip as if it'll soften the blow. "Well it's not a lie— more like I just didn't tell you the whole truth."
"You're a fucking piece of work, you know that?" He hangs his head, laugh puffing from between his lips.
"It's what makes me so fun." You tease, your hand pulling the device from your back pocket. You wave it in front of him, putting it on display like you've got the best thing at show and tell. He looks up at you through his shaggy bangs, nostrils flared and baring his teeth but saying nothing.
Your fingers hook into his boxers and he pulls on his restraints. Your mouth waters as his cock springs free, slapping him in the stomach. His tip is red and leaky, you cant help but plug it up with your tongue. You hum when the salty flavor hits your taste buds, shaking your head and attaching the mini bullet vibrator to it and securing it with the medical tape in your other pocket.
You pull your phone out, turning the bright screen toward him to which he squints at. "You see this little graph here?"
He cocks his head to the right and you realize he really is. You wanna put a collar on him and hear him whine and moan about it. The thought excites you too much, your panties are starting to dampen between your thighs and you've only got five minutes before you have to leave to make it on time for your first lecture.
"I have the controls for our new little friend." Your fingers plays over the screen, putting it on the lowest setting. Toji's hips buck, pulling on his restraints as the sounds of vibrations fill your ears. "This is the lowest setting."
"You're gonna leave me here for six hours with this fucking thing on?" His chest is heaving as your finger slides against the screen, upping the intensity every other word. You ignore him, the answer is obvious. Yes, you were gonna leave him here to bask in the glory of edging. You want to tease and play until he's begging to cum. Until his balls are swollen and angry and his hips are bucking into nothing so he can play at the idea of an earth shattering orgasm.
"This," You smile, bumping the intensity as far as it allows. "Is the highest setting."
He falls forward, muscled shoulders shaking while his balls pull so close to his body he thinks they might settle back inside him. It's too intense. It hurts and it feels good. He hates you and he wants you to make him cum.
You bring it back down to the lowest setting, circling him in his chair. Your manicured pointer finger traces over his traps and down his chest. Goosebumps follow after your finger and he shudders. The dulled vibration from the toy you've forced onto him is less of a burden on his psyche, but a burden all the same. He's violently pushing out fat puffs of air from his flared nostrils, head hung and his scar down turned.
"I love you, Ji." You kiss him on the crown of his head, your sentiment makes him feel gross and muddy on the inside. "No cumming before I get home."
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
Your palms sweat, elated at the idea of what state Toji would be in when you got back. The whole day you had been glued to your phone, messing with the intensity of his torture. Up and down. On and off. You wonder at the possibility of him cumming in the hour you had to take an exam and had left it somewhere in the middle on a pulse setting. You drum up a punishment, deciding that if he had cum you'd make him lick you through the bars of his enclosure. If he hadn't you'd offer him a night of luxury spent sleeping in a bed— next to you of course.
You can't hurry home fast enough, practically sprinting to your car and driving well over the speed limit. You're desperate and in need of a change of panties— the ones your currently have on had been soaked through by the end of your first lecture.
Meanwhile, Toji was sat huffing and puffing in his seat. Body folded in half as he uses the cool tabletop as a headrest. The skin on his face, chest and back was all tinged pink with both frustration and a desperate need to empty his balls. He wants to fuck something. Bad. To sheathe himself inside something to feel some sort of relief and fuck until his balls are emptier than they ever had been. He feels the vibrations quicken and the intensity ramp up just as he hears footsteps approaching.
When you crack open the door and sunlight peeks through he thinks he might cry out. His wrists are pulling as hard as they can against his restraints, corded muscle bulging out of his forearms. There's a vein blossoming through his pretty forehead that you want to kiss. You almost fall to your knees when you finally see him.
Big, burly and menacing as he always is, you expect him to glare and curse at you when you enter. He's like a dream. A wet one with tears and snot muddled together as his body spasms. He writhes like a corpse reanimated.
"Have you had fun today?" You coo, fingers carding through the hair sweat slicked to his forehead.
"You're evil. God I feel like my dicks broken." He gives you a non-answer. Glaring daggers at you, dull as they may be in his current state. His strong will was one of the many things you love about him and it was here painted like the renaissance in earth and jeweled pigments.
You had done well, brought him to the very precipice of mind numbing pleasure for hours. His balls were pulled tight, sitting close to his body with a tip that was bright red and gleaming with the sheen of precum. You wiggled out of your jeans, pulling your panties down along with them. Instead of discarding them on the floor you bunch them up, the little slice of fabric holding the excitement of the day being on the outskirts.
"Open." Your voice is soft, almost tinged with nurturing undertones as your nails hook into his jaw. He obliges. What else could he do? Wait for you to bring out another contraption that could make him forcibly comply? His mouth feels wet and dry at the same time. You stuff the panties in. His hips undulating into nothing as he growls at the fresh taste of your cunt.
With your back to him, you bend over. Your pretty manicured fingers digging into your ass cheek and pulling, your cunt on full beautiful display.
"Wanna cum in here?" You giggle and it's mean. You know he's teetering on the edge of want and responsibility. He's grunting and lapping at the fabric pressed to his tongue. He wants you. Wants to forget he's supposed to be mature and treat you like he's your father figure, but you've just about broken him. He's been ground down to his most basic instincts to fuck and cum and do as he pleases.
He turns his head, knuckles turning white in his forced denial. You laugh at him like he's just told you the joke of the century, the desperation in him is palpable. You sit on his lap, leaky cunt resting on his thigh just out of reach of his cock. You kiss along his jaw and he fights the screaming desire to let you— turning his head. You lick a bead of sweat that runs down his temple and savor the salty taste, though it's nothing compared to the savory notes of his precum you'd had earlier that morning.
Your teeth nip at his lobe and he fucking whimpers. A curse falls from your lips as you brush against the shell of his ear. "Fine, I'll give you your reward for being so good today."
You move off him, chaining the restraints at his wrists to each other and bending down to do the same for the ones attached to his ankles. You pull the panties from his mouth and smile at the strings of spit tethered from his mouth to the fabric. He had sucked the flavor out of them and as much as he'd hoped you didn't notice— you did.
You pull him to his feet by the interlocked cuffs around his wrists and pull him into the bathroom to shower him off. You take extra care washing his balls, massaging them with a delicacy you hadn't shown him thus far. You're both silent the whole time.
When you wash his cock he pushes you into the tiled wall, his head resting on the tile as he bites into your shoulder. It takes everything in him not to thrust into your hand. The pain of his bite grows and you can see blood trickling down your skin. It feels good, being hurt by him. You can feel the blood pulsing under his shaft and you know all too well he's trying to cum. You release him, pulling down the shower head and rinsing him off. You speed through the rest of the shower as fast as you can to keep yourself from shoving him to the floor and sinking down onto him.
Before you offer him the comfort of your mattress, you grab the food you'd been smart enough to order off the porch. Sitting opposite him at the table with his dominant hand uncuffed.
"Did you like your new toy?" You don't look up, forking a bite onto your utensil.
"Yeah, loved having my dick tortured by my step-daughter for six hours straight." It's sarcastic and mean, his words over exaggerated in the quiet of your home. "Y'know your old man's getting too old for this shit."
You roll your eyes, it's your turn to glare daggers at him. "Seemed like you liked it well enough when you were sucking me off my own panties."
He doesn't have anything to say to that. What excuse could he have to have been so willing? He spends the rest of your meal in silence.
You wash up, leaving him to stare out your large floor to ceiling windows in silence. The first he had seen of the outside world in days. He almost feels relaxed, closing his eyes but keeping his ears alert. They snap open when he hears the water shut off, head turning to watch you slink down the opposite hall. Your head ticks in a silent request for him to follow. He stands, chains tinkling with every loud step. He's still completely nude. And hard. His dick bobs up and down as he approaches, an immature part of you wants to laugh. At the risk of him not taking you seriously, you swallow it down.
He stops at the threshold of the door. Your bedroom. It's not overly girly and frilled with lace. There's a corkboard with pictures of the both of you that you've cropped your mother and Megumi out of sitting above a messy desk littered with reading material, your laptop and empty redbull cans. A normal set up for a very fucking twisted college girl.
"The hell did you bring me here for?" He grunts. You walk past him into the room, opening your dresser and pulling out a large pair of sweats and throwing them at him. Confident in his ability to pull them on with his hands interlinked as you undo the restraints on his feet.
"Your reward, obviously." You say like it's the most logical thing in the world. He looks around as if the reward in question will jump out at him before wondering if the gift of pants had been it all along.
"And that is…" He trails off, waiting for you to connect the dots for him. He bends down to pull the sweats over his feet and you watch as he jumps into them. He hisses through his teeth as the fleece brushes over his sensitive head.
"I'm letting you sleep in my bed." You smile, ditching what's left of your clothes into the hamper by the door. "Aren't I so kind?"
He looks away to keep himself from drooling over your nakedness. He feels like he's in heat, like the sight of an ankle could send him into a frenzy.
"I'm sure you'll also be sleeping here." He sounds less than excited. To be fair, he is. His dick is still throbbing and your bed is only a full size. He can only imagine what rewards await him.
"Well, of course." You snort, pulling a thin tank top and a pair of boyshorts on. He sighs, settling onto the bed to put himself to sleep as quickly as possible. He's on his side, teetering on the edge to put as much distance between you as your small bed will allow. He feels the mattress dip beside him, the warmth of your body radiating over him like a blanket despite the space between you. You let him.
"G'night, daddy." You whisper, turning your bedside lamp off with a click.
That night, Toji dreams it's you in the cage. His dick between the bars, leather leash in his clenched fist. He pulls it taut, the grid from the bars embedding into your pretty face as he fucks his thick cock into your throat.
"C'mon baby, open up for daddy. Let me play in that pretty throat." He's smiling. The scar on his lips elongating with a vicious flash of canines as he watches drool push past the corners of your mouth. Your lashes are coated in tears, the mix of fluids is dripping down your chin onto your chest. His hips stutter and he can feel the cum inching from his balls to his shaft. He pulls out of your throat, a pwah! sound and drool falling from your swollen lips as he does.
His calloused hand wraps around himself, choking his length in a death grip as he strokes it. A sound between a cry and a growl cracks in the back of his throat as he paints you with his cum. Thick white ropes landing in your hair, across your forehead and cheeks. He finds joy in using his tip to smear it over your lips. You look so fucking pretty. Morals be damned.
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
His eyes fly open, his hand is gripping his cock like a vice. He feels unclean. Beyond perverted and fucked up. He wants to say it's your fault. That you had somehow come up with a contraption that could fabricate such a dream and torture him. Any excuse not to hold himself accountable for the sticky feeling inside his pants. He lifts the elastic, peering in and relishing in the fact that he hadn't cum in his pants. But more than feeling warped beyond saving, he's disgustingly horny.
He tells himself it's alright that he's flipped over to face you, scooting closer so your ass presses into his dick. The pressure feels like a god send. He deludes himself, blaming you for the way he pulls his pants down so they sit just below his heavy balls. You did this to me he thinks as he slots himself between the meat on your thighs.
"Down boy." Your voice crashes into him like a bad accident. He thrusts anyway, pre coating the inside of your thighs. "You hear me? If you keep going I'm gonna fuck you."
He groans into your shoulder. You try to wriggle away but he uses his shackled wrists to circle you. His beefy arms are around your waist in needy protest as his hips continue to seek fulfillment.
"Toji." Not daddy. Not 'Ji. Toji. The sound of his name rolling off your tongue has him biting the inside of his cheek.
"I need it. Fuck. I need to cum." He pants out, his teeth sink into the same spot they had the night before— reopening the wound. He laps at it, collecting the blood and humming at the metallic taste on his tongue. "I'll do anything you want, baby. Just let daddy cum okay?"
You smile to yourself, that depraved sadistic part of your heart swelling. Your eyes roll back in euphoric delight. You pull it back to neutrality before unslotting him from between your thighs. He hisses at the loss of contact. You turn to face him, cupping his face in your right hand while wrapping your left around his cock. His hips are stuttering into your hand, skin throbbing against your palm.
"Once you do this you're mine old man. You got that?" You flatten your hand against his tip and smoosh all his precum back against him. He nods, jaw clenched and nostrils flaring.
You make quick work of fastening his restrains to your headboard, pulling your tank and underwear down quickly thereafter. You want to give him foreplay. Relax your throat and feel him full and heavy inside your mouth as his cock makes friends with your uvula. But you're far too greedy. You want him inside you. To feel his girth stretching out your walls as he writhes underneath you.
He stares at your pretty tits and how they sit so perfectly on your chest, the expanse of your stomach all the way down to your pussy mound. Your pussy lips tease him. He wants to lap at your clit and drink your slick straight from the source instead of being force fed the remnants on your panties.
You hover over him, a violent glob of spit shooting from your mouth down to his twitching cock. You spit on the tips of your fingers as well and — though you don't need it— lather it against your patiently waiting hole. You hold him firmly, rubbing the spit you'd just given him over his shaft for an even coating before giving it a few passes between your folds.
"C'mon, don't do that." He whines. Toji Fushiguro whines. And you had made him. "Let me in. Let me feel your cute little cunt."
You smile down at him, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips. His mouth opens in his desperation, shoving his tongue into yours and licking the back of your teeth. He has no one to blame anymore. He's about to fuck his step-daughter and he'd asked for it. Begged for it is more accurate, but that's something he is yet to admit to himself.
He moans against your mouth, your tongue wrapping around his as you ease his dick in. He's big. Just the tip has your mouth watering and he enjoys the spittle you transfer into his covetous maw. He's lifting his hips off the mattress, the balls of his feet digging into your sheets. You're mean and spiteful, using his chest to push yourself up further and further just to tease him. He groans, wrists red and raw from pulling at the restraints. Your headboard sounds like it's going to give out soon.
"All that protesting just to be so eager, hm?" You taunt, rolling your hips in a circle on his cock head.
"You're being a fucking brat." He spits, slamming back into the mattress with a pout.
"Hmm, I wonder who I learned it from." You laugh. He thinks you look beautiful, he wants to ruin you and make you cry. Swat your ass until it's red and raw with his hand print. To prove his point, you drop down with one fell swoop. A strangled sound comes from the back of his throat akin to the cry of a wounded animal. He fills you so deliciously that you can't help but cry out, your fingernails digging into his pecks.
His hips stutter, "Oh fuck."
Warmth pools inside of you and you're looking at each other like you'd been wronged by the other in some way.
"How naughty. Cumming inside your step-daughter like that." He looks mortified, like he wants to dissolve into nothing. His lips are wobbling and you wonder if he might cry. What a beautiful sight. Bringing the big, mean Toji Fushiguro to tears with your cunt.
You're glaring at him as you rotate your hips, finding a motion and rhythm that feel good. To hell with him and his one-sided pleasure.
"Sorry." He mumbles. You pretend you can't hear him and send an inquisitive hum his way. "I'm sorry, okay?"
"It's okay, 'Ji." You smile, grinding your clit into that black tuft of hair on his pubic bone. "You can go again right?"
"Yeah baby, lemme take care of you." His mouth is moving faster than his brain, too eager to please in his pussy drunk state.
Your hands find purchase on his chest, slamming down onto his now half hard cock. He feels like the wind has been knocked out of him. Every time he catches his breath you bring your hips down to steal it away again. He think he might die inside you. And what a beautiful final resting place. All nestled snug inside where everything is warm and good. How kind of you to let him decay and rot within your beautiful walls.
He's so sensitive and you're using your cunt like a machine. Milking him as you purposefully make your walls spasm. He watches tentatively as his cum seeps out of you and pools onto his pubic bone.
He's pulling and pulling on his restraints, your headboard groaning with his forceful ministrations. You hear the wood snap before you realize what's happened. He has you flipped over, your tits pressed against cool sheets with his palm spread over the bottom of your spine. You purr like a cat when his hips come flush against your ass. His fingers thread into your hair too close to the scalp. It stings when he pulls you up, his abdomen pressed into your back. Deciding last second he'd rather have you close.
"You've been so mean to me baby." It's low and threatening. You turn your head to give him those pretty, pleading eyes that have always seemed to work on him. They don't. Not anymore. "It's daddy's turn."
His hips pull back, slow and sultry, before snapping forward without any consideration for your much smaller body. Not caring that you were rather unused to a man of his size. You watch his hand wind up, smacking your ass with reckless abandon. It stings, but more than that it feels so fucking good. You can feel the skin swelling as his palm soothes the wound.
"Count." He barks, nipping at that same spot on your shoulder. He sinks his teeth even deeper, reopening the wound. His hand winds up again, his thrusts quickening before his palm connects with your asscheek again.
"One." You breathe out, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. His teeth grind down harder, he groans as another slap meets skin and your pussy clenches. "Two."
He continues on like that until you reach ten, eyelashes wet as sobs wrack through you. Your shoulders shake and your ass throbs. Toji finally unlatches his jaw, his teeth stained with your blood as he smiles down at you.
"You like it don't you?" His hips meet your ass even more brutally. "You made me like this. Tell daddy you like it, baby."
He's spiraling, descending into madness as you wrap around him. Little sobs of his name falling from your lips.
"Quit your crying, sweetheart. I wanna hear the words come from that pretty little mouth loud and clear." He pushes you deep into the mattress, your tears darkening the sheets below.
"Love it, Ji. I wanna love all of you. Give me everything." You're babbling, looking at him through your peripheral with a lazy smile plastered on your face. His fingers reach down and play with your clit, using your slick as lubrication. The last thing you need is more stimulation, you're already teetering on the edge of euphoria. He's hitting what feels like the back of your pussy with no room left to thrust, yet he still pushes forward. Tries to make a home for himself inside you.
This wasn't just sex or even anything close to making love. No, this was animalistic. This was fucking.
"You gonna squeeze me tight when you cum? Make me feel how badly you've wanted me to take you like this?" His words alone spur you to a place beyond pleasure, pressed against your back and saying every dirty thing you'd ever imagined. He pinches your clit and your vision goes white and starry. You hear a crackled yelp and realize it's you, all whiny and drawn out. Your body slumps into the mattress below with a solid thud. He doesn't stop his movements, just puts his hands under your belly and lifts you back into an arch.
"Oh baby, we're not done yet." He coos, swiping stray strands of hair from your sweaty forehead. Enjoying himself too much as he watches your legs tremble and shake underneath you like the little fawn you are.
"My legs won't stop shaking." You cry. Your fingernails dig into his bicep and he finds you disgustingly endearing.
"It's okay, baby. Daddy's got you." He soothes, kissing your hair as his hips slow. Your cunt is still fluttering around him. You feel like you're half way outside your body when he flips you onto your back. His thumb comes up and wipes the saliva that's beginning to dry on the corner of your mouth. You look so pretty laid on your back, hair fanning out around you. It feels wrong, sitting deep inside your wet cunt and staring down at your nakedness. But that makes him enjoy it all the more, the wrongness of it all.
His palms lay flat against the underside of your thighs, pushing them until your knees are touching your ears and your belly rolls in on itself. Your eyelashes are still wet as you stare up at him lazily, mouth parted and inviting. He presses his body weight down on you, it feels good to be crushed by him. You want him to chew you up and spit you out. To be meaner to you than you've been to him for the last four days.
"Look so pretty sweetheart." He coos, pulling his hips back slowly. You gasp when you feel his dick slip out, whining and pawing at him.
"Put it back. Please put it back." You mewl. He ignores you, using the mix of cum and slick to glide against your pussy lips. "Toji."
"You've been teasing me for days but the moment I do it, it's a problem." He laughs, "I'm trying to control myself here."
Your arms are reaching up, pulling him down by his neck with a look that makes him wanna crawl inside your skin and never leave. "Don't be gentle with me, 'Ji. I told you to give me everything."
His eyes blow wide, heart hammering behind his chest. He's deluded himself into thinking he can come back from this. That he can fill you with cum, fuck you until you're battered and bruised just to slip back into a fatherly role. He can't, of course. Not without imagining you choking on his fingers while he fucks you behind everyone's backs.
"Daddy's greedy," Toji coo's in your ear, "I want this pretty hole too." He reaches down between you, past your pussy to thumb against your asshole. You let your calves rest against his shoulders, using them to raise yourself up and give him easier access. He follows you up, pressing his dick in at the same pace he pushes in his thumb. It's uncomfortable so you squirm as he pushes in to the knuckle.
His finger sits in its place inside you, his cock moving in and out. He can feel himself just a bit, girth stretching your walls thin. He thinks that alone might make him cum. He wants to shove a couple more digits in and make you cry, but he decides against it. You'd definitely like it though, begging for more through tear filled eyes.
The angle he's fucking you in is hitting your bladder, pistoning hard as he begins to curl his thumb in your ass. Your toes are curling and you can feel all the water you drank the night before begging to burst free. You clench around him, thinking that if you can just make him cum you can run and relieve yourself.
With every pulse you're drawing him deeper and deeper into whatever sick little world you live in. The world where step-daddy's can fuck and fill their step-daughters to their hearts content. He no longer hears that little voice in the back of his head that tells him its wrong to be filling your ass and cunt in tandem. No, that little voice is telling him to shove the fingers on his free hand down your throat until you choke and gag. Spurring him on to be mean and vicious, everything he has always known lives inside him but has stuffed down to pretend at being a family man.
He doesn't care about any of it. He wants to fill you with him to the point of bursting. Wants to press down on your stomach and watch his cum leak out and smile at the thought of putting a baby in you and ruining your young fucking life.
That's who he really is at his core. Dirty, disgusting and depraved enough to reach for your jaw with his free hand and wrench it open. Your tongue lolls out as if this is all natural and normal. He watches the way the back of your throat opens and closes, the way your uvula wriggles. He wants to stuff his cock in but instead collects his saliva and spits right into the back of your throat. You almost choke on it and the feeling of your stomach clenching involuntarily fills him with a deep satisfaction. He gives an especially hard stroke directly into your bladder, you feel a little trickle out at the abuse. A flush heats your cheeks all the way down to your chest.
"Toji, I gotta pee." You croak, your fingers clawing at his sweat slick back. It's like he doesn't hear you, his hips keep pistoning at that same cruel pace with eyes that seemed to have glazed over. "Toji."
"Oh just shut the fuck up and pee on me already. I'm not done." He groans as your cunt constricts him even further. You like it, the facade of a kind and caring father slipping off to reveal a monster only you have become acquainted with. Your body refuses to give way despite the pressure and strain building below your belly.
He looks down at you, face painted with fury with his top lip pulled up in a snarl. "I can't. It won't come out." You sob. Your body won't fully relax. Not with the object of your desires slotted deep inside you.
What he's thinking is splayed all over his features, 'Who the fuck can't just piss if they need to piss?' He pulls his thumb out of you and lets your body fall roughly down onto the mattress. You think he's gonna let you go. Let you scurry off to the bathroom and maintain some semblance of your dignity. Not that you had much to begin with.
Unfortunately not. Instead, he fucks into you harder. Hits that yummy little spot inside you that makes your toes curl and your bladder ache even more. "Pee."
The demand makes you flush even deeper, you try to wriggle your way out of his grasp but his hands lock you in place. You feel too good on his cock for him to let you go and your bladder is taking up too much of the room inside you he wants to make his own.
"I told you I fucking ca-"
He slaps you. Hard. Your jaw hangs open and your ears ring. The damn of yellow threatens to break free as you focus on the stinging on your cheek and he looks at you like he's done a very good thing. "Watch your mouth, kid. Now piss for daddy, yeah?"
His palm comes to rest on your lower belly, pushing down and slowly increasing the pressure. It had been fine and dandy when you had held his dick and watched him piss. All the while you were too ladylike to piss on him? To hell with that.
He hips snap with a newfound ferocity, his green eyes sending you a silent threat to disobey him. His fingers work your clit like he's known it for years. You can feel the scrape of his tip at your entrance as he threatens to pull out of you, every vein as he carves out your insides to mold to him. It's overwhelming even without him using his full body weight to press on you. His dick throbs inside you and you know he's close. You want it. He makes you want, want, want. Always wanting for him.
He hits a spot inside you that the monstrous dildo in your bedside table had never even hit, and that's when he gets you. His ruthless cock soothes every tense nerve in your body. You don't even realize you're cumming until you see the slightly yellow tinged waterworks spray over him. It's coating everything. It's in his hair and dripping down his chin. He's gross enough to open his mouth and you watch his adams apple bob as he swallows, eyes rolling back.
Toji falls forward, hiking your legs back up over his shoulders as you quake underneath him from the aftershocks of your orgasm.
"Oh, you're so fucking gross." He coo's in a way that feels more like a compliment than an insult. "Did so good for me. That felt good didn't it baby?"
"Toji…" You cry, fingers leaving more red scratches down his chiseled back. "No more. You're gonna break me."
"Then fucking break for me sweetheart." He grunts, but its him that breaks. He's biting and nipping at any inch of skin he can. Fingers digging into the plush meat on your hips like it's gonna bring him down to earth any faster. That pool of warmth is seeping into you and it feels even better than the first time. His lips find yours again, drooling and growling as he rocks his hips to ride out the rest of his orgasm. He bites down on your bottom lip so hard it splits, he licks at it and hums to himself.
Once his cock has spit every last drop of cum into your greedy little cunt he pulls out of you. Covered in piss and sweat and pussy juice as he flops next to you, panting. He sits up on his elbows big and burly as ever in your tiny bed as he watches his fluids leak out of you. He frowns, pushing them back in with his middle and pointer just for it to come leaking out again. He stands to his feet, bending down and giving you a nice view of his muscled ass and empty balls hanging between his legs. He smiles, thinking himself rather smart as he picks up your panties and flops back down next to you again.
"Open up." He teases. You raise a brow, maw opening slightly with a confused look on your face. He sighs, swiping a hand over his beautiful visage like you've got half a brain. "Your legs."
You glare at him for the silent insult, hooking your arms under your legs and spreading them. He collects what he can of what's leaked out on his two fingers before stuffing it back inside. He chuckles, watching you bristle as he stuffs the panties in after.
"What the hell are you doing?" You bite, slapping his hands away despite the fact he'd already accomplished his goal.
"Said you wanted to give Megs a sibling, right?" He smiles at you like he'd just said something mind-blowingly smart.
"Yeah. Okay old man, you need to brush up on sex-ed." You snort, standing to your feet and pulling his weird baby making contraption out of you and into the laundry hamper. "Let's go shower so we can get back in here and make sure it takes."
art creds: @/ggyoyowza on tt
SUMMARY
Where you find that your new step-brother, Gojo Satoru, is adorable. At least you think so. He might be a little too protective and pushy - and maybe he has some issues with respecting your space. But adorable nonetheless. Right?
PAIRING | Yandere Step-Brother!Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader (slightly older)
GENRE | Taboo Romance, Dark Romance (Yandere), Romance, College AU, Non-Curse/Sorcerer AU
RATING | 18+ / MATURE
WC | 5.8k
a/n | something extremely light that i started on company time, please b kind to me
CONTENT WARNINGS
stepcest/psuedo-incest, taboo relationship, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, unhealthy/toxic/protective/obsessive behavior, sexual assault, non-consensual kisses, non-consensual touching, slight nerdjo but not too much, he's honestly just a brat in this
You think your new step-brother is adorable.
When you had first met him he was unapproachable - a little more than 'slightly intimidating' as his mother, your new step-mom, put it.
The day he moved in you were practically ignored as you introduced yourself. Sure, he was looking down at you from his towering height, holding your gaze and huffing a small greeting in response, but you could tell he wanted nothing more than to brush past you in silence and start unpacking in his new room.
And you understood that. It sucks having to move - especially moving in with people you don't know.
You and your father had moved twice between two different states before settling down in your current house. The environment shift is jarring to say the least; having to make new friends, constantly looking up directions, and experiencing culture shocks.
You wanted to prove that you were harmless and respectful towards him - it only made sense as you would be his older sister now. He was two years younger than you, starting his second semester of his freshman year in university - while you considered yourself nothing more than a part-time employed freeloader with little ambition under your dad's house.
Unfortunately, your dad is either too nice to tell his own daughter to start planning for the future, or he just loves your presence in general - it didn't hurt less when your new step-mom asked what you were wanting to do in the future during the first dinner with everyone seated together. Your face paled slightly, your heart hammering in embarrassment against your ribs, as you basically admitted you had nothing planned, just 'feeling out options'.
It did make you feel slightly better when Satoru told his mom that he'd do the same if she didn't basically threaten him to go to college. His voice was apprehensive as he spoke, as if he was unsure how to speak in front of you and your dad, but it still had a teasing lilt to it that made his mother visibly roll her eyes. Both of them bickering back and forth as if they were siblings themselves.
You weren't sure if he was saying that to lighten the mood, but it made the dinner more comfortable afterwards.
You decided to give Satoru space to acclimate to his new house.
Your coworkers said that you were practically acting as if you were the one who had just moved in after you explained your internally devised plan.
You disagreed, of course.
You made sure to not be too active in his personal life. You figured that once he was comfortable enough he'd tell you on his own. You didn't want to trap him into conversations he didn't want to be part of, but would have to be as it's polite.
You totally get that having to force yourself to talk to someone new isn't exactly pleasant.
You kept your questions or answers curt and direct, as if you were responding to someone higher in command.
'Where's my mom?' He asked one night, you heard him drop his backpack onto the hardwood floor with a heavy thud. He must've just returned from classes.
'Not sure,' you hummed, 'probably out with my dad.'
Silence sat between you both save for the television chiming with a random advertisement.
'Gotcha,' he finally huffs out, somewhat apprehensive in his tone.
You hear rustling behind you from the connected kitchen, but you don't turn around - you don't want him to think you were watching his every move.
'Where do you guys keep your silverware again?' You hear the wooden-plastic creak of drawers sliding in and out.
'Right of the fridge, first drawer,' you responded.
'Oh.' Another drawer is pulled with the rattle and clink of steel against steel before a final roll following with the deep thud of a drawer being shut. 'Thanks.'
You only hummed in response, clicking through the channels on the television until it landed on one that was halfway through a movie that you enjoyed.
You can hear more noises behind you from the kitchen before footsteps lead and stop right behind you. The familiar sound of a spoon scraping against molars and teeth crunching on cereal is heard behind you.
You could feel his presence looming over you as he spoke through the food crunching in his mouth.
'Do you like this movie?' he had asked. You could hear him take another bite.
'Yeah.'
Silence filled the room once more. The heavy and dramatic sounds from the TV filled it in.
'Gotcha,' he'd said, another bite right after. 'You're not working today?'
'Nope.' You had gently emphasized the 'p' with the pop of your lips.
'Gotcha.'
The conversation ended swiftly after that. He had mentioned something about a project being due this week before he made his escape to his room.
You made sure not to impose too much onto his personal space - which was a struggle considering your rooms were right across from each other, both of you sharing one bathroom. But your irregular hours from your part-time job coupled with him having days where his classes would stretch into the late afternoon made it a lot easier than you expected. Your opposing schedules meant you rarely crossed paths, and the bathroom was almost always vacant. You'd even intentionally stay in your room when he was leaving, just to avoid those awkward hallway moments.
There were moments when curiosity gnawed at you - small windows into his life that you deliberately chose not to pry open. You'd overhear him on the phone with someone, his voice dropping into something softer, more animated than his usual monotone, and you'd wonder who it was. A friend? Someone more? You never asked. You'd notice him coming home some days with his shoulders tense, his jaw set tight, clearly stressed about something academic or otherwise, and the urge to ask 'rough day?' would sit on your tongue. But you'd swallow it down.
There were the little things too - the way he'd linger in the living room on certain evenings, or how he'd disappear into his room for hours on end, or the occasional laugh you'd hear through the walls that made you curious about what could possibly be funny enough to crack through that carefully maintained exterior. You could have asked about his classes, his friends, whether he was seeing anyone. The questions felt natural, the kind of thing a sibling might ask. But you held back, understanding that asking was a form of imposing when he'd already been forced into enough - a new house, a new family, a new routine.
So instead, you let him come to you. You made space for him to share without pressure, without the weight of expectation. It was part of your larger strategy, you realized - this careful dance of presence without intrusion.
You'd be lying if you didn't pat yourself on the back for your patience.
You'd hope one day he actually did see you as his sister.
And you think that, maybe, now - almost his third month living with you - you had achieved it. Albeit, a little too well.
You assumed that he'd warm up to you by this time as well.
You could tell by how the conversations would flow naturally and consistently, sometimes even prolonging to the point where you'd thought the conversation had ended seven different times before Satoru has another related or unrelated question spilling from his mouth. He'd go off on tangents about whatever documentary he watched that week, or some obscure fact about game theory he learned in class, his hands gesturing wildly as he explained concepts you only half-understood. You'd nod along and he'd keep going, clearly just happy to have someone listening.
He'd often go out with you if he saw that you were pulling your shoes on for something other than your job. The words 'where 'ya headed' were so common to hear that even his mother began to chide him. Telling him that 'she doesn't need a bodyguard everywhere she goes'.
He would get frustrated especially when his mother would butt in. His face flushing with a deep red as he's trying to either justify himself coming with or convincing you to stay home.
It was adoring to say the least, but excruciatingly painful at times when you needed to go out alone to meet up with friends he didn't know or shopping for items you'd rather he not be present for. You think you're just too weak to him and his antics, constantly employing some form of psychological torture on you whenever you told him he couldn't come.
'What? Who're you meeting with? I'm fine with meeting new people.'
'You don't wanna' hang out with me?'
'Are you going to meet up with a drug dealer or somethin'? Because I can come for that too, I guess.'
'I wanted to go with you though.'
'You haven't ate, right? Let's get lunch. I'm literally starving and you can't let me starve.'
'I had a shit-day at school. Can I just come with? Please?'
'You don't have to go, right? Like it's not urgent?'
'Wow. Leaving me to die, I guess.'
'If I don't come you hate me and want me to die.'
'You don't have an issue with me coming. Right?
'So then I can come.'
Your heartstrings are too thin, nearly weightless, and much too easy to pull whenever the playful and pearly-like smile from his face drops, the glint in his blue eyes dulling by a fraction. Sometimes his face contorting into a questioning look, an eyebrow raising behind his glasses, as if you were caught sneaking out of the house at twelve in the afternoon. It's as if he especially knew you were weak when he'd pout, his tone either begging or prickling with kid-like annoyance as he spoke with a hurt expression that often ranged from acceptable to overly dramatic.
You can't help it when you finally relent on most days you didn't want him to come along. Cursing yourself internally as your car hums to life with the turn of your key. He's happily sliding into the passenger seat with a hum, already reaching for your phone to play a song. You don't even question the fact that he knows your password as you've probably done it in front of him or just told him in passing.
It was just harder to explain to your friends that this tall, lanky boy with sharply defined features, naturally platinum-white hair, and bright blue eyes was your brother - always having to clarify he was your step-brother. That he just happened to be tagging along for today, and perhaps the next few hangouts after that if he'd catch you.
Your friends, obviously awe-struck with seeing a natural beauty that's your brother, do tell you it's slightly odd that he's always glued to your side. Always talking to you as if he was the happiest man alive. Always physically attached to you, hands dancing near your hips and waist, palms rubbing circles into your back, his entire body pressed into your side or from behind you.
You agree. It is a little weird.
You do think that he warmed up to you a little too fast. However, you always explain to them that perhaps he's unsure of how to treat a sibling as he's never had one before. That with time he will slowly realign himself as he realizes how weird his own behavior is.
You're just not sure when it'll happen, because you're far too afraid to scold him for his behavior. What if it ruins your relationship with him? What if it makes living in the same house awkward until either you or him move out first? What if he tells his mother and she begins to hate you?
You're not even sure if your father or his mother are aware of how present he is in your life and your space.
Your literal physical space.
As he is currently splayed out on your bed, an arm folded behind his head onto the pillow as he lays there in complete silence, his free hand holding his phone upright on his chest as he scrolls lazily.
You're sitting upright next to him with a blanket pulled around you, scrolling with the same half-interest he's exuding, eyeing him with caution every once in a while when he shifts.
As if going through phases, he'd choose to scroll through his phone before deciding his phone isn't interesting enough and will tuck his head into the back of your seated position, his long arms coming to drape themselves around your hip. Then, as if getting bored, he'd go right back to his phone, sometimes his phone chiming with a notification here and there.
You didn't mind as much. Ever since a certain point he would just naturally seat himself flushed against you.
It had begun at the dinner table, you'd noticed he was scooting his chair closer into your side until your elbows would be battling for the space. Then, he'd drop himself down right next to you onto the couch if you were in the living room, often falling asleep on you or his head in your lap, some days not a word would be said as he would do so.
Now, he recently discovered your room - or more of the fact that you allow him to come in.
You think it's cute. Cute in the way a cat is. Like, he wants attention or someone near him, but he won't be completely direct with it.
You think you're doing really well to solidify the image of his older sister.
"I thought you wanted to check my computer," you finally spoke into the white noise emitting from the AC in your room, you absently scroll through posts on your feed, tune after tune being cut-off as you scroll.
"I did," he replies effortlessly, his hands moving with ease along his phone's screen, before he's pushing his glasses back up his nose with an awkward arm gesture.
You hum. "What for? Like, school - or games? Because I think I have some games." You try to remember some of the titles you have downloaded.
"Dunno'," he says, his eyes shift over to your simple computer set-up. "You have games on there?"
"Yeah, but you probably won't like my type of games."
"I mean, I actually don't mind those cooking simulators or whatever." He adjusts his glasses again. "They help prepare you for the future, y'know - heavy on the 'you' part."
You shoot him a look that barely borders on mean. You pinch his skin through his shirt and his hands shoot out to grab you with a laugh teasing at his lips.
"Okay, okay - joke," he says breathlessly when he finally manages to hold your hand away from pinching him, his phone discarded somewhere around him on your bed. "Mostly joking."
You roll your eyes, your mouth opens to tell him to check whatever he needs on your computer so you can have the entirety of your bed to yourself again, but your phone sings a familiar tune that Satoru slightly perks up to. Especially, when your mouth closes as you read the message.
"Who is it? Mom?" He questions lightly, his body is turned into you with his face pressed into your back once more. When he speaks you can feel him speaking into your skin through your shirt.
You barely register his words as you read the message over and over, red heat and excitement beginning to bubble under your skin.
A coworker you had a slight interest in asked if you wanted to come hang out with some other of your coworkers.
"Uh - no," you finally say. Your fingers immediately moving across the screen, and then deleting the typed words. "Just check my computer for whatever you need - don't download viruses."
"I'm not an idiot," he bites back with a playful tone. However, when he moves away from you to look at his phone once more, he must've noticed your expression as he's quickly sitting up to look at your phone too. "What's wrong? Is it your dad?"
You turn away from him, phone angled out of his view immediately. Not wanting him to see how much you were failing to coolly respond to your coworker, and the fact that Satoru might bully you. It took him a week or two in the past to stop bringing up how ugly your ex-boyfriend was. Even at the dinner table.
He raises an eyebrow, his lips pressing into a thin line. His finger goes up to push up his glasses by the corner of the frames.
"Alright," he says, you try not to note the edge to his tone. "Who the fuck is it? You trading government secrets that I can't see? Because that's illegal. And also boring."
You finally manage to respond despite how close Satoru is pushing closer to you.
You hope that your coworker wasn't actively watching your typing bubble agonize over your own response.
"It's no one," you huff out. "Hurry up and do whatever you need on my computer so I can actually use my own bed."
"Not my fault your bed is small," he quips. "If it's no one then lemme see."
He shifts closer near you, the side of his body flushed against your side to get a look at your phone. You immediately swipe out of message history and turn your phone off.
"No."
"So, it's a someone then."
"No. Well - yes - maybe," you relent. "But I don't want you to read the text messages between me and him."
Satoru goes completely still against you. You can feel the exact moment his entire body tenses.
"Him," he repeats flatly. Not a question. A statement. A very pointed statement.
"Yes, him," you say, biting back a smile. "A person. Of the male variety."
"Cool. Cool, cool, cool." He's not looking at you anymore, instead staring straight ahead at your darkened phone screen like it personally offended him. His jaw works for a second before he speaks again. "So like - is this someone I know?"
"No."
"Oh." He shifts, and you can practically feel the gears turning. "So it's like... a random person? Someone just hit you up out of nowhere?"
"Yeah, I guess."
"That's actually weird though," he says, and there's genuine concern threading through his voice now. "Like, that's a whole situation. Random guys don't just message people. That's sketchy. You don't know what he wants or like - what his deal is."
"Oh my god, are you serious right now?"
"I'm being serious! What if you go over to his house and he's like, got people tied up in his basement then he tells you you're next. It happens more than you think - I saw this whole documentary about it."
"Oh my god, Satoru," you groan with the roll of your eyes. "It's a guy from work, not on the FBI watchlist."
He goes quiet for a moment, and you watch his fingers drum against his thigh - another tell that he's working through something. "Oh. From work. Well, workplace relationships statistically crash and burn. It's like - proven data. Bad combo."
You raise your eyebrow. "Based on what data?"
"Reality. Realistic data called common sense." He pushes his glasses up again, more aggressively this time. "And like, basic probability."
"Not every workplace relationship is going to 'crash and burn'."
"Okay, but like - ninety percent of them do. I saw it on a documentary." He's talking faster now, his hands gesturing wildly in that way he does when he's getting worked up about something. "And then you have to see them every day after it implodes and it's awkward and someone always ends up crying in the supply closet. Do you want to be the supply closet crier? Because that's how you become the supply closet crier."
"There is no supply closet at my job."
"Then the bathroom. The parking lot. Wherever you people cry at your work - that'll be you." He's leaning closer now, his shoulder pressing into yours with more insistence.
You have to physically bite your tongue to keep from laughing.
He shifts his weight, and you feel him crane his neck slightly - not obvious, but obvious enough that you notice. His glasses slip down a bit and he pushes them back up with an irritated huff.
"Is he like - older than you? Because if he's significantly older that's a whole different red flag situation and I'm just saying that as someone who cares about your general wellbeing and safety. Age gaps have like, documented power imbalances."
"He's around my age," you offer, watching as his jaw clenches.
"Around. So not exactly your age."
"Satoru."
"What? I'm just - is he like, taking advantage of you or something?" His voice drops, and there's genuine concern threading through, but it's wrapped in that slightly dorky earnestness that's so distinctly him. "Because you can tell me. Like, as a trusted adult. I'm serious."
You stare at him. "You're the last person I'd consider a trusted adult."
"I - okay, that's fair, but - "
"You literally tried to convince me that my coworker had people in his basement five minutes ago."
He shifts closer, pressing his shoulder against yours with more force now. "That's different. That's just like, healthy skepticism based on actual crime statistics. This is - if something's wrong, you should tell me. I'm here for that."
There's a beat of silence before he continues, quieter. "I mean, how long have you been talking to this dude?"
"Not really talking," you sigh. "I mean, I work with him, but we recently started texting a few weeks ago."
"A few weeks and you didn't mention it," he says quietly. There's something almost hurt underneath the casual tone, and when you glance at him his ears are turning red. "That's cool. That's - yeah, that's fine."
"Alright, didn't know I suddenly had a second dad," you tease.
"I'm not - that's not what I'm doing," he says immediately, too quickly, his ears flushing deeper. "I'm just like, looking out for you. That's different. I don't even know who this guy is, so he could be a total loser for all I know. Probably is, actually."
"You don't know anything about him."
"Exactly. Which is why you should tell me so I can like, properly assess whether he's worth your time." He finally glances at you, and there's something swimming in his blue eyes behind his glasses - something intense that doesn't quite match the casual tone he's forcing. "I'm a trusted person to you - a trusted step-brother." The way he says it, there's something bitter underneath, a slight edge to those last two words that you don't quite catch.
You're definitely smiling now, and you can feel him notice because his ears are turning redder.
"It's fine." You draw out your words. "It's not like me and him are even anything, he basically just asked me to hangout with some other coworkers."
"So, I can come with then is what I'm hearing."
"I said coworkers."
"Tell them I'm a former employee."
"Coworkers."
He lets out a guttural groan, throwing himself back against your bed that makes the cushioned fabric ripple under you, you don't miss the way he's eyeing your phone like it personally wronged him. His hand comes up to drag down his face in frustration.
You'll have to carefully plan how you'll leave the house that day to avoid him pressuring you into tagging along.
"For weeks," he speaks aloud, his voice slightly muffled behind his hand. "And not a single word about this guy."
"Considering you don't talk about anyone you're talking to, I think that's fair."
"Because I'm not," he says flatly, dropping his hand to look at you.
"Sure, sure. Whatever you say," you dismiss with a gentle hand wave.
"No - I'm not though." He sits up, his voice getting that sharp edge to it, the one that comes out when he's genuinely frustrated. "You can even check my phone if you want. I'm serious. Go ahead."
"Satoru, I don't care - "
"You clearly do, or you wouldn't be - " He stops himself, jaw clenching. His fingers drum against his thigh again, faster this time. "I'm not talking to anyone. I don't want to talk to anyone."
"It's really fine, it's okay."
"I'm talking to you."
"Well, yes, right now you are," you hum. "But I mean like, y'know, a girlfriend or a boyfriend - like romantically."
"I don't see how it's any different." He's looking at you now, direct and unwavering in a way that makes something uncomfortable shift in your chest.
"I'm your sister," you say flatly.
He scoffs in a way that feels mean, adjusting his glasses with more force than necessary. "Not by blood."
His words begin to settle deep into your skin, fogging up your thoughts until you're at a standstill. You try not to register what he's implying, because surely he couldn't be implying what you think he is. Your eyebrows furrow into each other, lines of skin forming as your confusion settles over.
"Yes, not by blood," you agree haphazardly. "But - we're still family - well, I mean, I consider us family. I hope you finally - "
The words die in your mouth - or rather, they're muffled under the sheer force of his own lips on yours.
It happens so fast you don't even process it at first. One second you're mid-sentence, the next his mouth is pressed against yours - not gentle, not tentative, but hard. Demanding. Your eyes fly open in shock and you try to jerk back, but his hand is already at the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair, gripping tight to hold you in place. The sound that comes from his throat is desperate, needy - a whimper that vibrates against your lips.
"Satoru - " you try to say against his mouth, but it comes out muffled. You push at his chest hard, palms flat, shoving with everything you've got, but he's leaning into you - his weight forcing you backward until your spine hits your mattress. You twist your head to the side, gasping, trying to break the kiss, but he follows, his hand gripping tighter in your hair.
What the fuck is going on?
He's so much bigger than you and the angle is all wrong and you can't breathe properly. The frames of his glasses dig into the bridge of your nose, cold metal and hard plastic pressing uncomfortably as he kisses you harder. There's nothing romantic about it - it's aggressive, almost violent. He's making those sounds again, whimpering like he's in pain, like he can't help himself.
"Stop - Satoru, stop - " Your voice comes out panicked, higher than normal. You're clawing at his shoulders, trying to create any kind of distance, but he's got you pinned. His hand slides under your shirt and you flinch hard, your whole body going rigid.
He pulls back just enough to breathe, his chest heaving against yours. His eyes behind his glasses - pupils blown wide, barely any blue left. Then he's diving back in, kissing you with desperate hunger. "You're - god, you're so pretty," he gasps between kisses, his voice raw and shaking but still distinctly him, still carrying that edge of confidence underneath. "You're really pretty and I - " He cuts himself off, pressing his forehead against yours before going back in, kissing you like he's been holding back for months and finally snapped.
"Please don't hate me," he whimpers against your lips, going in for another kiss, deeper this time. His hand tightens in your hair. "I'll be really good to you, I swear - just don't hate me for this."
His palm slides higher under your shirt, massaging exposed skin. The touch makes you flinch - his fingers are warm, almost hot, and they're moving possessively. You try to twist away but his other hand is still in your hair, keeping your head still, and his body is a solid weight pinning you down. You can feel him grinding against your hip with every desperate breath he takes.
"Get off - " you manage to choke out, and you open your eyes.
He's staring directly at you. Those blown-wide pupils, barely any blue left - but the look in them is calculated. Aware. He knows exactly what he's doing. He pulls back slightly, his breathing ragged, and lets out another whimper that sounds almost pained, but there's something else there too - satisfaction.
He goes in for another kiss, softer for just a moment - almost tender - before it deepens again. "I thought I could wait just a bit longer," he breathes against your lips, his voice cracking but still carrying that thread of control underneath.
Tears are already burning at the corners of your eyes.
His hand slides higher. You can feel the tips of his fingers graze the bottom wiring of your bra, his touch demanding.
"You can touch me too," he says, and there's an edge to it - not quite a question, more like a demand wrapped in something almost playful despite the desperation.
His hands find yours, trying to guide them down his chest, but you're already pulling back, fingers curling into fists. You wrench your hands away, twisting your wrists hard, but he's stronger - he's so much stronger - and he's got them pinned against his body with purpose.
"No - don't - " you gasp out, struggling, but he keeps pulling with an iron grip, forcing your resistance downward until your hands are pressed against the front of his sweats.
The shape of him is obvious through the fabric - hard and straining. He grinds into your touch with intention, a low sound escaping his throat that's somewhere between a groan and a laugh, slightly manic but controlled.
"This is wrong, Satoru," you manage to say, voice weak and bordering on a sob. You're trying to pull your hands away, clenching your fists tight, but he's got them pinned there, forcing you to feel him through the sweats as he rocks against your palms with deliberate pressure.
"I know - I know it's wrong," he breathes out, but there's no remorse in his voice - just acknowledgment, like he's stating a fact that doesn't matter. Like he's thought this through and decided it's worth it anyway.
Before you can say anything else, he crashes his mouth against yours again.
This kiss is even more aggressive. His teeth catch your bottom lip hard enough that you taste copper, and when you gasp he takes the opportunity to deepen it, tongue pushing past your lips with bruising intensity. One hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head back at an angle that makes your neck strain, while the other keeps your palm pressed firmly against his erection.
You twist your head sharply, trying to break away, but he follows - relentless. Your hands are still trapped and you're pulling, really pulling, fingers curling into fists as you try to wrench free.
It's useless. He's so much stronger and he knows it.
You're pushing against his chest with your shoulder, your whole body rigid, but he just leans into you harder, pinning you deeper into the mattress. Your legs kick slightly, instinctive, panicked - trying to shift your weight, to get leverage, anything.
He's panting into your mouth, making these desperate little sounds that vibrate through your chest, but underneath it all there's still that thread of awareness, of control.
"I know," he repeats between kisses, the words hot and wet against your lips. "I know, but I don't care - can't care - " Another kiss, this one so forceful it makes your head spin.
You turn your face away again, gasping for air, your neck straining against his grip in your hair. This time you note the soft click of his tongue when his lips leave yours once more from your abrupt movement.
A knock at the door breaks through the moment.
"Hey kids, dinner's ready!" Your dad's voice, muffled through the wood. Cheerful and oblivious. "Is Satoru in there too?"
You open your mouth but nothing comes out. Your throat has closed up entirely.
Your eyes dart to him. He's still on top of you, still holding you down, and there's something in his expression that makes your stomach drop. Like he's curious what you'll do. Like he wants you to try.
The fear is suffocating. Worse than his weight, worse than the ache in your wrists. You can't think, can't do anything but lie there with tears spilling over.
Satoru pulls back just enough to look at the door when the silence prolongs from your side. His hand is still under your shirt, and he gives one last, deliberate press of his cock against your leg before stilling completely. You can see him thinking, calculating.
"Yeah!" he calls out, and his voice is so normal it makes your skin crawl. Confident. Calm. Just slightly breathless like he'd been laughing at something funny. "We'll be down in a second!"
"Alright, don't take too long - we're waiting on you guys!"
Footsteps retreating down the hall.
Satoru looks back at you, his glasses hanging low off his nose at this point with the deep heaves of his chest. A grin begins to settle onto his expression despite the red that blooms tirelessly along the cheeks of his face.
now for my next trick i will write yan brother in law sukuna ! <3 that or f#%$&!@? harlequin silly :p lmk if you enjoyed it!!!
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You shouldn’t fall asleep around a man who treats temptation like permission.
Synopsis : Your mom marries rich. Now you're stuck living in a mansion with the most insufferable man you've ever met. A spoiled, arrogant asshole who looks at you like you're something he scraped off his shoe. The feeling is mutual. Until....
Content warning : explicit content • stepcest • step sibling • somnophilia • non-con/dubcon • power imbalance • heavy tit play • groping • humping • cum play • degradation • arrogant prick gojo • filthy smut • strong language • 18+ • mdni.
A/n : hey loves, I've clearly tagged this fic. so please don't cry in my comments about it being exactly what it says on the tin. enjoy!!
You weren’t supposed to end up here.
Not in some massive house with chandeliers that look like they could pay your college tuition. But your mom somehow managed to marry a man with more money than most people knew what to do with. You don’t know how she pulled it off, and honestly, you don’t want to.
Now you live here, stuck between pretending to belong and trying not to breathe too loud in case the marble floors echo judgment.
It’s fine. You can handle pretending.
What you can’t handle is Gojo Satoru.
The youngest son of that man. The one who didn’t even show up to his father’s wedding because he had "better things to do.”
He’s tall, smug, stupidly attractive, and knows it. Walks like he owns the air in the room. Looks at you like you’re something that got delivered to the wrong address. Every interaction with him is an insult wrapped in silk.
“Didn’t know charity cases came with plus ones,” he’d said once when you and mom arrived with luggage that looked embarrassing next to his brand-name everything.
Or the morning you tried to make coffee in the kitchen and he walked in, hair a mess, yawning like he hadn’t slept in years. You froze for half a second—because, yeah, he’s a dick, but he’s also that good-looking. And he caught it. Of course, he did.
“You can look, sweetheart. I get it.” he’d said, lips twitching. “Not your fault, though—most people do.”
The sheer audacity of that sentence made your eye twitch. You told him to choke.
He laughed and actually said, “Sounds like you're the one who's eager for it.”
Since then, you avoid him as much as possible. You eat at different times, use the other staircase, and pretend he doesn’t exist when he walks by in sweatpants and zero shame.
It’s a delicate system. You stay out of each other’s way, and the house stays quiet.
Until tonight.
The others went out—your mom and her husband doing whatever rich people do when they say “business dinner.” The staff had gone home hours ago. House was dead silent, except for the hum of the AC and the faint noise of the TV upstairs.
You were sprawled on the couch, watching some random show, too lazy to go to your room. The glow from the screen flickered over the glass railing, throwing light on the expensive decor you still weren’t used to.
You weren’t thinking about him. You never try to think about him. He just shows up in your head like a song you hate but know every word to.
The guy’s too pretty for his own good. Snowy silk hair, those ridiculous blue eyes, the kind of confidence that makes you want to throw a punch. Still, you’ve caught yourself looking far more times than you’ll admit, but you always end up annoyed after. All that beauty wasted on a prick like him. Some people win the genetic lottery and still manage to act like jerks.
What a fuckin' shame.
The soft glow of the TV blurred at the edges as your eyes grew heavier and heavier. Couch was warm, the blanket softer than it looked, and before you realized, your phone slipped from your hand, screen dimming out. You were out cold.
And down the hall, Gojo’s door creaked open.
He stepped out, jacket slung over one shoulder, keys in hand, probably heading out to do whatever rich, bored boys do on a friday night.
He was halfway down the hallway when he saw you, making him stop dead in his tracks. He hadn’t expected you to be here.
You were sprawled on the leather couch, head tilted back, mouth slightly open. One arm dangled off the edge, fingers brushing the floor. The neck of your tshirt had ridden down, twisted just enough to bare your left breast completely. The nipple was stiff in the AC’s chill, the curve heavy and full against your ribcage.
He’d never seen you like this. Vulnerable and exposed, not the annoying girl he looked down for invading his space. His gaze locked on the swell of flesh, the way it spilled slightly under your arm.
He knew they were big, couldn’t miss it with those tight tops you wore, parading around him—but seeing it like this, offered up for him? His cock throbbed hard against his zipper, a hot, insistent ache. He took a step closer, the carpet muffling his movements.
Such a fuckin’ whore, aren’t you? the audacity of yours to be in his house, spread out on his couch, tits out like a desperate slut, hoping his pretty hands would end up all over you. Isn't that right?
As if he’d ever touch something as lowly as you.
His fngers twitched at his sides. He’d come over meaning to yank that shirt back up, hide the tempting swell of your tit before it drove him insane. But the hand had a mind of its own. It drifted forward instead, palm hovering just above your bare skin, close enough to feel the warmth rising off you.
Your chest rose and fell in soft, steady breaths, that pretty nipple tightening even more under the cool air.
Just gonna cover this bitch up, he told himself.
Bullshit. His little friend down there told another story. It was strained hard against his slacks, thick and throbbing, calling him a liar with every pulse.
His thumb brushed the soft underside first, feather-light and testing. It was warm. So fucking soft it made his mouth water. He swallowed thickly, the other hand gripping the armrest for control. Then he gave in, palming the full heavy weight of your tit, fingers spreading wide to claim it. A gentle squeeze made the soft flesh spill between them as his thumb dragged slow, deliberate circles around that stiff peak, teasing it harder.
A low groan escaped him when you shifted slightly in sleep, arching your back just enough to push your tit deeper into his hand.
He groaned low and pinched the nipple between thumb and forefinger, rolling it. It pebbled tighter, and he felt his own pulse hammering in his throat. He massaged it slowly, feeling the bud stiffen impossibly harder under his fingers.
He wanted to pull back, needed to, but the urge to feel more, taste it, was a fever in his blood. His eyes darted to the hallway, empty and silent. Swallowing hard, he sank to his knees beside the couch, the leather creaking softly under his shifting weight.
Just a taste, he bargained with the throbbing ache in his gut. He leaned in and dragged his tongue in one long, sloppy wet stripe from the soft underside of your tit all the way up to that stiff nipple. A deep, guttural moan tore from his throat at the taste of your warm skin. Then his mouth closed over it, sucking your nipple deep between his lips. Flicking the hard bud fast and filthy with his tongue, sucking hard enough to pull your soft flesh into the wet heat of his mouth. He released it with a wet pop, strings of spit connecting his lips to your swollen bud, only to latch back on even harder, nursing it like he was trying to milk you.
His free hand yanked the neck of your t-shirt down roughly, fully exposing your other breast. Both of your fat tits were out now— soft and glistening with his spit.
The sight punched the air from his lungs. His free hand slid across your stomach as he reached your other breast. Grabbing it softly, fingers spreading wide to cradle the heavy weight, trying not to wake you, trying to pretend this wasn’t happening. He massaged both tits now, kneading them like dough, pulling and squeezing until your nipples were puffy, swollen nubs.
He wanted to stop. Should stop, but his hips ground against the couch edge, cock making a sticky mess in his pants.
He couldn’t fight it anymore. With a rough yank, he ripped his slacks open and shoved them down his thighs, letting his fat cock spring free, drooling sticky strings of pre-cum from the slit like it was already begging to breed something. He wrapped his big hand around the shaft, groaning deep as he squeezed it hard enough to make the veins bulge.
He started pumping it fast, thumb smearing the leaking mess all over the fat head with every brutal upward stroke. At the same time he dove back down, sucking your nipple back into his greedy mouth.
Wet, obscene sounds filled the silent room— the slick of his fist flying over his dick mixed with his hungry breaths. He nursed your tit, hard wet pulls that made the soft flesh bounce in his grip, spit running down the curve of it.
But it still wasn’t enough for the greedy bastard. Mind kept flashing to your untouched cunt, probably leaking under those tiny shorts. Just the thought made his heavy balls draw up tight, forcing another thick pulse of pre to spill over his knuckles. It had his fingers dug into your tit too hard, leaving angry red marks.
He froze, breath catching. "Shit. Did I wake her?"
But you shifted, twisting away and burying your face into the couch cushions. Your back arched so prettily as you pulled from him.
His mouth lost your nipple with a wet pop, and a frustrated growl rumbled deep in his chest. Eyes dragging down the delicious dip of your waist, straight to those shorts that were doing a piss-poor job of hiding what belonged to him.
Round, perky ass— plump, and practically begging to be spread open and used. The fabric stretched taut over each cheeks, outlining their fullness while you lay on your side, a gift he was dying to unwrap.
Fuck... all this time?
There had been an ass like this right under his roof, sitting within arm’s reach every single day, and he’d never bothered to use it? How the hell had he been this goddamn ignorant?
His cock jumped eagerly as he kept stroking. He needed those shorts gone. Needed to see that bare cunt right fucking now.
He leaned in close, fingers hooking into the waistband of your cotton shorts, tugging them down slow, watching the fabric peel off your hips and bunch at your knees, revealing twin globes of perfect flesh.
Shit... this was what he’d been ignoring all this time? the arrogant prick in him wanted to laugh at how blind he’d been. He needed to ruin it. Needed to cover those plump cheeks in thick ropes of his cum until it dripped down your skin.
His thumbs dug deep into the soft flesh, spreading your ass wide open. There she was— a pretty cunt, puffy and shiny with slick and the little hole clenching around nothing.
“Look at that,” he muttered, letting out a low whistle. His index finger slid through your soaked folds, dragging all that warm slick up to your clit before he started rubbing it in rough, slow circles. You whimpered softly, hips shifting and pushing back against his hand like your greedy pussy already knew it was him.
He kept rubbing your pussy with slow strokes, slick coating his fingertip as it slid effortlessly over the mess. He could feel every pulse and throb, your cunt practically sucking at the air. He bit his lip bloody holding back from shoving his dick into that tight hole right fucking now. Wanting to fuck you stupid, to feel the gummy walls choke him, the thought of it nearly buckled his knees. With a groan, he pulled his finger back, thick string of slick connecting to your pussy for a second before snapping.
Without hesitation, he shoved them into his mouth, sucking hard. The taste exploded on his tongue and his eyes rolled back in pure ecstasy.
At that hell of a moment all he wanted was to be balls deep in that fuck hole, slide in and out until it milked him dry. But the clock was ticking. He had somewhere he needs to be. Jaw clenched, he grabbed his aching dick, pumping it roughly in his fist, finally aiming it between your thighs.
The swollen head dragged through your soaked folds, smearing your slick over his throbbing tip. He bit back a moan, teeth grinding as he rubbed himself against your pussy, everything too much.
Heaven wasn’t some distant dream—it was right here, between your thighs, in your leaking cunt. Gojo was already at his fucking limit, cock sliding through your soaked folds once, twice—and the swollen head caught on your clit on the third thrust, rubbing hard against that swollen bud.
That was it.
Three slides of his cock on your folds and it was endgame for the mighty Satoru gojo. He covered his own mouth as his hips jerked forward uncontrollably. Thick, hot ropes of cum exploded from his cock, splattering across your bare cunt in thick, white stripes. It pulsed out of him in violent spurts, painting your glistening flesh with sticky streaks.
Satoru’s sat on his knees, chest heaving, eyes dark and smug, and yeah… he knows exactly what the fuck just happened.
Does he feel even a hint of guilt?
Hell no. Not even a shred. And why would he? The bastard loved every second of it. He even had the audacity to pull back your shorts like he was done using your hole, not even giving a damn what you’d think when you woke up.
That’s the fun part—letting you wake up, piecing it all together, maybe stumbling into him later, cheeks flushed, begging for it and even if you didn't, it doesn't matter cause he takes what he wants anyways.
And let’s be real… how could you even say no to that face? That cocky, impossible, infuriatingly perfect face? You can’t.
You and Toji were never too close. He was reserved, even around your mom, rarely sparing either of you more than a few words when he'd pass you in the house.
It was odd. You always wondered why he would go through the trouble of marrying someone if he didn't even seem to like them that much.
But to Toji, romance was trivial. What mattered to him was that he had a roof over his head and a hot meal waiting for him every night—for free. And it helped that to the outside, he was now a domestic family man. Someone decent.
Although, that’s a word that Toji would never use to describe himself. In fact, he'd consider himself to be the furthest thing from it.
That much was clear when he'd met you.
A sweet little thing that his new wife had conveniently failed to mention to him when he proposed. When he found out about you after the papers had been signed and the rings exchanged, his first thought was that you'd be just another pain in his ass—like your lying mother.
Or "selectively truthful" as she put it one time.
But then you'd arrived back from college in a dangerous sun dress with a smile on your face that faltered the instant you saw the outline of Toji's hulking frame at the top of your stairs.
"Who's that?" your voice was smooth as honey, the soft cadence traveling straight to the old man's groin.
"That's Toji, dear. My new husband. I told you about him, didn't I?" Your mother had never once mentioned him to you either.
You were polite, introducing yourself to him and even offering your hand out for a shake. Toji gladly took it, his calloused fingers enveloping your comparably small hand and he squeezed hard. Hard enough for you to wince from the pain, and yet, you didn't pull away.
You just stood there, enduring it until he decided to let go of you. And that's when he decided that you were interesting enough for him to pay attention to you.
Things were different with Toji around the house.
A place that was once comfortable and easy to navigate became new territory because you were never sure where he was going to show up next.
Usually he is in the kitchen, so early in the morning that the whole street is quiet. He always has the window propped open as he leans against the counter, nursing a beer in silence. Sometimes you notice a new scrape or bruise decorating his skin but you never comment on it.
That’s how you find Toji now.
His bottom lip is split, the flesh slightly swollen. When he spots you, his tongue flicks out to lick at the wound, wiping away some dried blood as his gaze settles on you.
"What're you doin' up?" he asks before you can say anything.
"Couldn't sleep."
He offers you a small nod before downing the rest of his drink. Your eyes are fixated on the way his Adam's apple bobs with every swallow, a singular drop of liquid trickling out the corner of his mouth.
Somewhere along the way, you became less intimidated by him and more curious.
Toji is aware of this shift too as he watches you through narrowed eyelids. Normally you would have left by now, retreating to your bedroom lest you spend more time with him than necessary.
Now, you just stand there, your arms hugging your body as a breeze coasts through the kitchen.
He tosses the bottle in the trash before pushing himself off the counter with a grunt.
You worry for a split second that he's leaving. You're not sure why you care, but a part of you is hoping he stays instead of going back to bed. Then, you're stuttering out a question before you can think, stopping Toji in his tracks.
"Where were you?"
The weight of his gaze is heavier than anything you've felt before, the intensity of it sending a chill down your spine. And Toji just forces you to endure it for a moment.
He notices the way your little slip dress is billowing around your thighs and the way your arms have shifted lower, exposing your chest to him. Your nipples have pebbled under the silky fabric and Toji's eyes linger for longer than what's appropriate as a stepfather before cutting back up to yours.
"That's really none of your business, doll." In your outfit you really look like one too. Your features seem softer in the dim light, your fatigue accentuating its effect. "Your mom in bed?"
You nod.
Toji hums while he holds your gaze, tension thick between you two. Your throat feels dry but you don't want a glass of water. For some reason, you feel a need to prove yourself to Toji.
In all these moments that you share together in the early hours of the morning, you always get the sense that he's looking down at you. Like you're still just his wife's kid that he's now stuck with. The girl who he can't tell anything to because she can't be trusted, or maybe he just thinks you're too young to understand. Thinks you can't possibly relate to him in any way.
But you don't need to relate to him, that's not what you want.
"Do you have any more beer?"
Toji's eyebrows raise a bit and you take that as a confirmation of what you assumed he thought about you.
"You don't drink beer," he states matter-of-factly. You wish that didn't upset you as much as it does.
"I can drink beer."
"I don't doubt you can, but that's not what I said."
You mull over his words silently, chewing the inside of your cheek. "I want one," you insist, "please?"
Toji sighs but opens the fridge anyways. "Go sit down on the couch and throw somethin' on the TV, I'll be there in a minute." He's pulling out two more beer bottles from the case, setting them on the counter while you're still lingering.
You finally scurry off when he shoots you an annoyed look.
The couch sinks under your weight, the cushion old and worn. You're being swallowed by the furniture piece as you flick through the channels on TV until Toji returns, both beer bottles in one hand.
He sighs loudly as he plops himself down next to you, the exertion from his earlier job catching up to him.
"Here," he holds his hand out toward you. You reach for one of the bottles but he pulls back quickly. "Not that one, already drank from it."
"Oh, sorry." You grab the other, peering down the neck like you'd be able to see anything before giving it a sniff.
Toji is rigid, watching you closely as you inspect the bottle.
But then you just give him a sheepish smile, a little embarrassed that he's seeing you be so apprehensive about a beer. You're just not sure what to expect. You never cared for drinking before and you're only doing this to try and get closer to Toji.
Eventually he looks away, getting bored of your performance.
So you take a swig like you've seen him do countless times before, and the liquid sloshes into your mouth. Bitter and carbonated, it makes you cough.
"Is it bad?" Toji questions while he lifts his hips off the couch, adjusting his seat to get more comfortable. You stare at him while his legs fall open, man-spreading to the point where his thigh is pressed up against yours.
"No," you fib. Toji knows it's not the truth but still he likes that you're trying to convince him that you have something in common. "It's good."
"Yeah, you like it?" The grin on Toji's face is wicked, and it almost makes you admit your lie but you stand your ground.
The two of you sit in silence for a moment and Toji sips his beer.
"Then you gonna drink it or let it go flat and waste my money?"
His hand wraps around your own that's holding your bottle and guides it to your parted lips. He tips it just enough for you to have a sip, watching your throat to check that you swallow. And then he tips it further.
Toji holds the glass lip up to yours, pouring beer steadily into your mouth. You keep swallowing repeatedly, desperately trying to keep chugging so the drink doesn't spill but you're not fast enough.
And eventually you can't keep up, choking and sputtering on the beer that Toji doesn't stop pouring.
You somehow manage to down most of it which impresses him. But amber liquid still trickles out the corners of your mouth, down your neck and onto your chest.
"There ya go. Tastes good, doesn't it?"
You gasp when he finally pulls away and you can breathe normally. Your stomach feels upset from all the bubbles and you let out a tiny hiccup while you wipe your lips.
Toji's eyes haven't left you since he sat down, and you wonder what the reason is for the sudden intensity. You're not sure you've even seen him blink.
Fidgeting in your seat, you smack your lips together a few times. Your tongue feels a bit tingly and your head a bit fuzzy.
"Toji?"
"Yeah, doll?"
"I feel… weird," you mumble. Your words are hard to get out, a task both physically and mentally laborious. Your mind struggles to piece the letters you need into the words that you want to string together.
When he doesn't reply, you try again. Maybe he didn't hear you.
"Feels…" you pant, short of breath, "bad. Hot."
You're sweating through your slip, the thin fabric becoming damp as you slump over.
"Just lay down like that," Toji finishes his beer then tugs on your legs until they're resting over his lap and you're laying on your back.
You think you must be sinking into the couch, every limb in your body feeling incredibly heavy. Certainly too much for you to lift on your own.
How kind of Toji to help you then, you think as he adjusts you once more, spreading your legs further apart.
Deep within your hazy mind, you realize what he's doing when his hand cups your mound. His fingers press against your wet panties, pushing into your cunt as far as the fabric will allow.
You want him.
It feels good when he touches you.
You want to tell Toji that too, but all you manage is a weak moan. Your eyes struggle to focus on the blurred outline of him.
"You're soakin', doll," Toji muses, lightly slapping your clothed pussy a few times. "You like when your step daddy does what he wants with you?"
Speaking is too much work so you try to nod to give him an answer, but your head just lolls to the side and now you're staring at the blurred glow of the TV.
Toji huffs out a laugh through his nose at you and then moves your head to look at him again before returning his hand to your cunt.
He rubs you slowly through your underwear, relishing in the little whimpers you let out when he grazes over your clit.
More.
You want more.
Whatever Toji slipped into your drink did nothing to quell your desire for him, if anything, you feel needier. Your whole body aches but the space at the apex of your thighs hurts the most. Your pussy just feels so empty, and all you want is for Toji to fill you up.
You groan softly. You're determined to use every last ounce of your energy to get what you want.
"Tell me what you need, baby."
"I-in…" you falter, catching your breath before trying again. "In…side."
"Inside here?" Toji asks, adding pressure to his motions as his hand continues to glide between your legs.
He knows what you meant. In fact, Toji knew what you wanted the minute you walked into the kitchen this morning. He didn't have to drug you, he's sure you would have been obedient enough if he decided to fuck you.
But Toji always likes to play with his food a little first. Whether that be an actual meal on his plate, a target for a job, or a woman he wants to ruin—it doesn't matter.
Your sweaty brow furrows, confused as to what you're feeling. Toji had pulled your panties aside, the cool air hitting your exposed pussy and making you shiver. But then instead of feeling the warmth of skin against your wet slit, it's something cold and hard.
You would have panicked and protested if you weren't so sedated. Your hands would have pushed at Toji's and your hips would have jerked away. Maybe you would have told him to stop, said that you didn't want him to put that thing inside you. And that's exactly why he spiked your drink.
Toji just wants to have his fun too, that's all.
When he presses the beer bottle into your tight hole, it takes a bit more force to open you up than his fingers or his cock would have. The glass, being so rigid, doesn't slide in as easily, and it doesn't help that your body still seems to be reacting. Your cunt is clenching forcefully, trying to keep it out as you twitch.
Your expression contorts in a million different ways, each one expressing a different level of discomfort.
Even to your drugged mind it feels weird, wrong, as Toji forces the rest of the bottleneck inside you. He almost debates pressing it even further, giving your tiny cunt a much bigger stretch, but he'll take it easy on you tonight.
Instead he just starts to pump the glass in and out of you with a languid rhythm, admiring the way it's getting coated in your juices. Toji wonders what kinds of sounds you'd be making if you were more coherent, what kinds of words you'd spit at him.
Would you plead with him to stop?
Or would you just let him have his way? Enduring his sick form of entertainment in hopes of him getting bored again and leaving you alone.
Or maybe you'd surprise him and beg for him to keep going, to give you more of whatever he wants as long as you're stuffed full.
With the way your pussy is still soaked, he's starting to think it might be the last one.
"Always thought that innocent girl thing was just an act," Toji speaks more to himself, knowing you likely can hardly understand him at this point in your high. "Just couldn't prove it. But here you are, slutty pussy fuckin' dripping all over a beer bottle."
There's a little squelch when he pushes the glass back in a bit faster and he laughs because it's just ridiculous. Young pussy always gets so fucking sloppy.
But he can't deny that you have him hooked. Every time the TV shines a bit brighter, he's given the most beautiful view. Your breasts show through your dress as your chest heaves, your breathing haggard. Your plush thighs look so soft, they feel so soft as he runs a hand up one.
And you have the prettiest pussy. Glistening lips parting around the bottleneck, swallowing the inches so well now that Toji got you all loosened up.
When Toji finally slides the bottle out of you, he twists his wrist to get a better look at the slick that's covering it. Then he brings it to his lips, letting his tongue run along the glass until he's cleaned up every last bit of you.
It's while he's tasting you that Toji decides he's not going to fuck you tonight. Just the flavor of you was enough to tell him that he'd be missing out if he did.
Next time he'll keep you awake so you can really feel one another when he sinks his cock into you, and this time he'll settle for your hand.
Toji stands beside the couch, his shorts and briefs pooled at his feet while he takes your limp hand in his, curling it around his shaft. The minute he feels your palm sliding down his length, so much softer than his own, his balls are already twitching.
He holds your hand in place, beginning to roll his hips and rut into your fist.
"Juuust like that, doll," he groans, thrusting faster. "You're makin' me feel so good."
You're passed out by this point, unaware of the praise that your stepdad is throwing your way while he fucks your fist. But if you were awake you'd be over the moon.
Your cheeks would be hot as his words went to your head, pride swelling in your chest.
Toji makes you squeeze him harder as he gets closer to his release, his head falling back with a low moan as a million images replay in his mind.
You standing in the kitchen in your slip dress, wide eyed and looking up at him. You sitting in front of the TV, watching him hopefully as he approaches with your drinks. You moaning on the couch, whimpering as he inserted the bottle. And your sleeping form, shimmering with sweat as you unknowingly pleasure him.
Each sight was better than the last, though he'll make sure they're all stored securely in his mind. Mementos of this night for him to look back on whenever he's feeling particularly needy, until he can collect more.
"Shit, baby, I'm gonna cum," Toji grunts, his movements becoming erratic before he stills.
His cock pulses in your grasp while he hisses out your name like a curse. And while your stepdad looks down at his milky white release that's splattered across your chest, he wonders if you are one that's just dressed like an angel.
