jazzthatonewriterchick

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

❝WHERE HIS WORDS END❞

・❥・pairings: Author!Choso Kamo x Assistant!Fem reader

・❥・cw: soft!choso, body worship, fingering, nipple play, use of petnames, squirting, implied aftercare

・❥・from chris: my heart <33 we all deserve a choso in our lives

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[jazzthatonewriterchick]

dating katsuki pt. 2 .ᐟ𐚁

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Most Wanted (Mafia Boss!Toji x Spy!Self-Insert!Reader 18+ One Shot)

"I’m gonna make sure you remember tonight and what happens when you fuck with a guy like me."

*IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: THIS WORK CONTAINS R*PE & NONCON SEXUAL ACTS. PLEASE MIND THE TAGS AND READ LIGHTLY.

Pairing: Toji Fushigiro x Self-Insert!Reader (Enemies to Lovers)

Synopsis: You’re a highly skilled hitwoman. You’ve been doing this for years–getting paid to take hits on the wealthy and corrupt at your agency’s order. You figure taking a hit on the renowned Tokyo mafia boss Toji Fushigiro won’t be any different. However, things take a terrifying turn for you, and your skills are put to the test when you go undercover as a dancer at his favorite club and give him a private dance. But instead of killing you, Toji takes it upon himself to punish you and show you what happens when you fuck with him.

Warnings: Smutty Smut, 18+; Porn with Plot; Physical Fighting; Gun Play; Knife Play; Noncon/R*pe; Forced Deepthroat; Mutual Oral; Forced Orgasm; Lap Dancing/Pole Dancing; Doggystyle; Spit Play; Degradation + Praise; Rough Sex; Choking; Hair Pulling; Unprotected PIV Sex; Creampie; Some Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: Here you go lovely!! @curiouscutie143 I hope you & everyone other toji lovers enjoy this. I had so much fun writing this & I tried to make it as nasty as I could lol. I may write another mafia!toji thing in the future just cuz this shit was soooo fun. Enjoy! -Jazz

*********

“Peaches, you’re needed in the backrooms.” 

You resist the urge to smile as you turn around from your seat at the bar, sipping on some water after your dance and sweet-talking a middle-aged bank broker into his pockets. It’s important to keep up the facade.

“Comin’,” you tell your coworker and turn to the broker who looks ready to dive into your cleavage. 

“Sorry, but I’ve gotta run,” you sigh, acting apologetic. He frowns at you, making the wrinkles and lines in his face more evident. “But this shouldn’t take too long. Find me afterward?”

The broker puts his hand on yours, accidentally using the hand his gold marriage band sits on. “You’ve got it, baby,” he purrs. “I’ve got some dollars just waitin’ on ya.” 

He gives you a wink before polishing off his whiskey and walking away from the bar, leaving you to breathe and collect your thoughts. You turn to the bottle girl, waving her down. “One shot of Patron, please!” you yell above the music blaring from the overhead speakers. She nods, scurrying to fetch you a much-needed shot. It will be the first alcoholic drink you’ve had since your shift started. 

You suddenly hear a buzz from your right ear and instantly put your hand up against it under your hair. “V,” a gruff voice says into your earpiece. “Come in, V. It’s been 20 minutes since we last talked. Did you get him yet?” 

You scan the upscale strip club pulsing with purple and red strobe lights and booming with activity: businessmen and regular-degular customers tossing money at the dancers on stage who spin around poles and do splits in their thongs and heels.

“Target was sighted five minutes earlier, sir,” you whisper into the earpiece given to you by your agency. “He is currently in the backrooms waiting for me. He came alone. He made eye contact with me ten minutes ago, so he may be asking for me.” 

More like you made eye contact with him and had been since he walked in. He is impossible to miss with how tall and buff he is. His black V-neck tee stuck to his pectorals and abs while his jeans hung low on his hips.

You had expected he’d be flashier with his wealth by wearing obvious designer clothing, but you figured that he had to keep a low profile as well. Beneath the V-neck that hung from his neck, you could see the tattoos that roped over his chest just like his arms. The healed scar at the corner of his smirk as his green eyes scanned the place over told you that this was, indeed, your target. 

He stood between two bodyguards in suits half his size, giving off an intimidating aura, especially with the guns at their hips. But you’d expect nothing less from Toji Fushigiro, Tokyo’s most notorious mafia boss. 

He is powerful. He is wealthy. He is known throughout Tokyo and Japan for being the head of Tokyo’s infamous mafia gang, the spot being passed down by his father. He is also a criminal. White-collar crime, organized crime, drug trafficking––you name it, Toji does it. 

He is also known for his scare tactics on those who owe him a debt. He’s held man over bridges, threatening to drop them in the murky waters below. He’s pistol-whipped. He’s choked. He’s stomped. He’s jumped guys in alleyways and left them for dead. He is a man of his word. If he tells you he’ll fuck you up if you don’t give him his money in a certain amount of time, he’ll do it. 

He is the number one man current on your hitlist…and your agency’s. They knew it was a good idea to employ you, their top hitwoman, to Toji’s favorite club to take him out for good. Though he didn’t show up when you started at the club a couple of weeks ago, you knew it was only a matter of time until he showed up. 

And now, he is. As soon as he was in the club, everyone’s eyes were on him. Dancers scurried to the pole and backstage to change into their best outfits to milk him out of his pockets. Bartenders and bottle girls quickly wiped down counters and took care of customers as quickly as possible so they could tend to him. Your manager barreled toward him with complimentary champagne and a spot in the VIP section. 

As Toji walked with your manager, your eyes met across the room. They met again while he sat in the VIP section when he should’ve been watching a dancer twirl around the pole in front of him. Both times were fleeting, but they affected you completely. His green eyes, like mirrors to a forest, sent chills down your spine and made your stomach flip. His gaze was intense. Intimate. His eyes made it hard to relax or act like a normal dancer working her shift at the club. 

He seemed to know what he was doing to you or he was sizing you up because he would simply smirk and sip on his whiskey on the rocks and puff on his cigar, his soft lips forming Os and blowing the smoke into the strobe-lit air. You can understand why so many women fell for him, but you aren’t one of them. The tiny gun strapped to your hip proves it. 

Your real boss sighs in relief. “Excellent work,” he praises. “Unfortunately, we can’t see what you’re doing from over at headquarters and we’re still working on connecting the audio to hear what’s happening around you, so just fill us in on what you do next until then. All you have to do now is walk back there and complete the mission as we discussed.” 

You toss an arm over the bar, stretching your coffin-shaped nails along the polished bar. “Of course,” you reply with a smirk. “Don’t I always?”

The bartender returns with your shot and you down it at once, relishing the burn and the way it loosened you right up. “I’ll keep you informed,” you say. “Just stay near the phone.” 

“Be careful,” your boss says before the line cuts. You check your makeup in the bar before you get up from the bar and strut over to your beautiful, blonde coworker in her red lingerie and heels. “Hey, Yuki,” you greet her. 

She smiles at you and guides you to the backrooms where the wealthier customers usually take the girls to get a dance…or something more. Sexual exchanges aren’t allowed, but the manager never complains if they bring in more money. You and Yuki peer down the hallway to the double doors of a private room where Toji’s bodyguards stand. 

“Why the guards?” you ask, pretending to be confused. “Is the President here or somethin’?” Yuki turns you to face her, her eyes wide. “Even bigger,” she replies. “He’s the hot guy with the scar who comes in here often. He’s a mafia boss, apparently. Super hot, but very powerful. The bossman gave him his pick of any girl he wanted and he picked you.” 

You do your best to hide your smirk. You knew you had him. “Me?” you ask breathlessly. “Why me?” Yuki shrugs, just as clueless. “Don’t know, but I was sent out to fetch you. He’s willin’ to pay double the amount of a regular lapdance, but he didn’t say if he wanted it topless, naked or not.” She gives you a worried look, furrowing her blonde brows. “You sure you up for it, hon?” she asks. “I know you’ve taken high rollers before, but he ain’t even a high roller! He’s beyond that!” 

To sell it even more, you bite your lip, acting nervous but intrigued. “I can do it,” you reply. “Just hold my hand when you walk me in there.” Yuki obliges and squeezes your hand as you begin to walk toward the guards, heels clicking across the floor. 

“Target is in sight,” you whisper into your earpiece, turning away from Yuki and putting your mouth in your arm to muffle your voice. “I’m walkin’ to the backrooms now where he’s located.” 

“Excellent, V!” your boss says. “Just do it as we discussed. Don’t falter, don’t yield, and don’t lose focus.” The three rules of being a spy. You never forgot them. Finally, you come to the guards and Yuki smiles up at them. “I’m here with Peaches,” Yuki announces. “The girl Mr. Fushigiro asked for.” 

You plaster a bright, charming smile on your face. It must work because the guards budge and step out of the way for you. One of them opens the door for you and Yuki, holding it. “Step in,” he orders. You thank him and scurry inside the dimly lit room with an included mini-bar, a single stripper pole, and leather lounging couches. Toji currently sits in one of them, legs spread and eyes hooded as he puffs on a blunt and sips on his drink. 

His green eyes pierce into your very soul when he eyes you in the doorway. “Here she is, sir,” Yuki says. “Just as you requested. And she’s just as pretty as I told you she is.” She moves your hair out of your face, exposing your pretty false flashes, Fenty Beauty gloss, and accentuated features to the boss. 

Toji hums, liking what he sees. “Yes, she is,” he agrees. “Tell your boss thanks. He can expect some good business out of me once the night is through.” Yuki nods and gives your arm a squeeze. “Good luck,” she whispers before heading off. The doors close and you are left alone with your hit. 

Neither one of you moves toward the other, staying posted to your spots. Toji takes a puff on his blunt and lights taps it above the ashtray next to him. “Y’know, you’re mighty pretty up close,” he purrs. “I’ve been wonderin’ what you’d look like up close instead of across the room.” 

You finally look at him, noticing how big he is even sitting down. “So you’ve been watchin’ me tonight?” you ask. He nods, his eyes trailing down your form. “I knew I hadn’t seen ya before,” he continues. “I come here often and I would’ve remembered seein’ a face and a rack like that.” 

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Charmer, aren’t you?” you sarcastically question. 

He smirks at your wittiness. He likes that bite in a woman. “When I wanna be, but you’ll have to forgive me; the liquor makes me bolder than I already am.” His tongue jets out to lick his lips. “But you’ve gotta give a guy credit for bein’ honest and that lil’ outfit don’t leave much to the imagination.” 

You go to wrap your arms around yourself but then stop. You need to sell this and if you’re forced to stand here in a mini dress that barely covers your ass or titties with heels that could crush a bitch in front of your hit who also happens with me enticingly sexy, then so be it. Toji’s gaze softens somewhat, noticing your discomfort. “You are very beautiful, Peaches,” he genuinely says. “Is it okay if I use your name?” 

“Thank you, Mr. Fushigiro,” you softly reply. “And no, it’s fine. It’s what I’m known as around here anyway. I started here five weeks ago.” He nods, sipping on his whiskey. “Call me Toji.” 

“Toji,” you parrot, slowly striding towards the pole in the middle of the room, an overhead speaker playing soft R&B overhead. “You’re quite the man. The entire club seems to be in a frenzy over you.” 

His smirk widens, proud and cocky. “They always are,” he chuckles. “Don’t know why. This place gets plenty of people bigger than me all the time, especially international celebs. I heard Drake was here not too long ago.” You give a dry “mm-hmm” as you grasp the pole. Toji takes that answer another way. “What, you don’t like Drake?” he snorts. 

“He’s okay,” you reply, short and impatient. “So what are you here for? To talk or to watch me dance?” You wrap a hand around the pole and pop your hip out, waiting for him to give you an order. 

“Depends.” He sits up, leaning forward to get a better look at you. “What are you willin’ to do tonight for me? ‘Cause we can just sit here and talk. I wouldn’t mind hearin’ that pretty voice all night.” His green eyes gleam with mirth and a small hint of lust.

“Definitely a charmer,” you chuckle. “That’s fine if you’re willin’ to pay, though we don’t have a rate for conversation.” 

He laughs at this, the sound deep and raspy yet pleasant to the ear. He takes another puff on his blunt before he lowers it down onto the ashtray. “Then let’s cut to the chase,” he sniggers. “It’s $500 for a 10-minute dance, right? I want 20 minutes, so that would make…”

He begins to count on his fingers but then stops. “A lot,” he chuckles. “I’ll probably ask for you to strip though. Are you okay with that, Peaches?” 

You feel something flip inside of you at the mention of all of that money and how passive he is about it. Any girl working here would do whatever he wanted for 20 minutes! “I’m a stripper,” you reply passively. “What else am I gonna do?” 

Toji tsks, grimacing at you. “Damn, what kinda attitude is that?” he laughs. “A beauty like you should be more adamant about showin’ off her body. Can I offer you a drink to get you in the mood?” He nods at the mini bar overflowing with bottles of tequila, vodka, and liquor.

“I don’t drink on the job,” you reply. “Music helps.” You suddenly hear a buzz in your ear and then your boss’ gruff voice: “Give me the rundown, V,” he demands. 

You want another drink?” you ask. You nod at Toji’s empty glass and he agrees, so you walk over to the bar. To him, you’re seemingly looking for a bottle of whiskey, bent down to look through the racks. “With the target now,” you whisper. “Just waiting for the right time to attack. Give me a second.” 

Once the line goes dead, you walk back over to Toji and pour him a bottle. As you bend down, you give him an ample view of your titties much to his enjoyment. As you do, you slip the gun out of your dress and place it under the couch where only you can find it. Once done, you leave the bottle with him, and step back, hands on your hips. He sits back against the couch, preparing for the show. “Whenever you’re ready, darlin’,” he purrs, his eyes filled with obvious lust and attraction. 

With a slow song playing above and the lights dipping into an almost ominous red shade, you begin to move to the beat. You roll your hips, swaying them side to side and front to back, almost as if you’re grinding on Toji despite him being several feet away from you. You let the music take control of you as you grasp the pole and begin to grind against it, dipping low to wind your ass in his face. 

You do a few tricks on the pole for him–jumping and spinning around it, your thighs wrapped tight around the metal pole; squatting and lifting up your dress to bounce your ass, etc.–before you turn to look at him over your shoulder, flipping your hair. Toji’s eyes are hooded and lustful, all from the weed, the whiskey, and the effect you’re having on him. Despite the situation, it feels good to have an attractive man ogle at your plump frame. 

“Take off the dress,” he demands, a slight growl in his voice. You don’t turn to face him, instead still facing the wall as you carefully unzip the back of your dress. The thin piece of clothing falls off of your body, revealing all of your rolls, curves, and the matching glittery bra and thong set. 

“Shit!” Toji hisses, ogling at your asscheeks in your glittery thong. “Your back don’t hurt carryin’ that around?” 

You finally turn around and find him leaning forward, his hands clenching his thighs. “You don’t look like you’re ready,” you giggle, winding your hips and toying with your titties in their cups. “Did you talk too much big game, Toji?”

The boss looks like he can’t even speak, his scarred lips parted as he stares you down. “Goddamn,” he hisses. “How some horny fuck didn’t propose to you and steal you out of here yet is beyond me.” 

You give a light, tittering laugh, smiling down at him. “Well, if someone did that, I wouldn’t be here with you.” He looks happy with that response. You then twist around and bend over for him, giving him a full view of your full, round, perfect ass. “Can you handle it, baby?” you purr. “Can you handle me?” 

You quickly pop up and turn around, finding him shifting in his seat and gritting his jaw. “I should be askin’ you that,” he growls. “Come the fuck here.” Deciding not to tease him any longer, you strut over to him, feeling sexy and irresistible. It’s strange that the same man you were sent to kill is doing this to you. 

His eyes have grown several shades darker, reminding you of the deepest, darkest parts of a jungle. “Dance for me,” he demands. “Not on the pole; on me.” He opens his legs wider for you and pats his lap, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. Though clients often get handsy when dancers give them lapdances here, you decide that it’s best to do as he says. 

Plus, you’d be lying if you said that you aren’t curious to feel him for yourself. So you place your hands on his thick, muscular highs and begin to roll your body before squatting down, popping up between his legs. You reach up to drag your palms and long nails down his chest, feeling up his abs and toned stomach. He allows it, staring down at you with a look that would make a nun blush. 

You then stand up between his legs before turning around and lowering yourself down into his lap. “Shit,” he whispers, watching the way you work your ass along his lap and the jean-clad bulge that has begun to make an appearance. You twerk and bounce on top of him before he takes a drag of his blunt, blowing the air away from you. “You ever shotgun before?” he asks, his lips close to your ear now. 

Your body grows hot from him being so close, the attraction ironically magnetic. Slowly, you shake your head and Toji chuckles, adoring your mix of cute and sexy. “C’mere.” You lean back and tilt your head up while he takes another puff of his blunt. He holds the marijuana smoke before puckering his lips up and leaning down as if to kiss you. Slowly, the smoke travels from his lips to yours in an indirect kiss that leaves you breathless and your head dizzy. 

You can’t deny it: you’re wet. Your pussy has never been this wet for any man before…and he’s the enemy! Toji seems to feel it too judging by the hard-on you can feel pressing into your thigh. You shift onto his knee and begin grinding your ass back, doing your best to not grind your pussy against his thigh. 

“So you got a name other than that stripper shit?” he randomly asks you. You are immediately taken out of your lustful haze, remembering why you’re here. “I don’t remember us talkin’ about personal shit,” you dryly reply. “I don’t give my real name out to men I don’t know.” 

Then, for the first time tonight, Toji touches you. His big hand lowers onto your thigh and squeezes. You don’t try to move it but you are alarmed. “Oh, but you do know me, darlin’,” he replies, digging his fingers into your flesh. “And I know you, V.” 

At the mention of your real name, you freeze. The world freezes with you, everything seeming to cease their existence including the music that continues to play overhead. But you don’t hear it. All you can hear is your own blood pumping loudly in your eardrums. Toji releases you and you quickly jump off of him, turning toward him. 

He just sits there staring at you, a humorous smirk playing on his lips. The smile is no longer attractive to you anymore. Suddenly, you feel disoriented. You feel like you may vomit or drop to the floor in your heels. Your earpiece buzzes to life again in your ear. “V!” your boss calls. “We just got the audio working again. What’s happening?” He sounds panicked, just as much as you are. 

Toji bares his pearly whites at you as he calmly reaches for his whiskey. “Ah, now them wheels are turnin’ in that pretty little head,” he chuckles. “You know, you dance almost as good as you lie. I can see why you were put here to go undercover.” He takes a sip and licks the remnants away from his top lip, still staring you down. 

“Ain’t that right?” he asks and it feels like a snake has just silvered up your back and sunk its teeth in you, paralyzing you. 

“Y/N, he knows!” your boss hisses. “Stand down! Don’t do anything stupid!” He continues to yell and scream at you about aborting the mission and telling you that someone will be there soon, but you can’t quite hear him. It’s like you’re underwater and he’s standing above ground, his voice muffled and murky. 

For a few seconds that seem like a lifetime, you and Toji stare each other down, waiting for the other to make the first move. Your body kicks into fight or flight, the freeze stage having already been awakened. Inisctively, you shift into fight mode. Quickly, you take the bottle of whiskey and bring it down towards Toji’s head, but he catches your wrist like it’s nothing. 

You grunt, wincing at the pain of his grip. “Oh, you wanna play, huh?” he cackles. “Goin’ against your boss’ little rules just to take me out? How cute.”

With a wail of effort, you swing your other hand at his head but he catches that too. Counting on this, you bring your leg up and kick him hard in the groin. He immediately releases you and lurches forward, holding his junk, giving you a chance to grab your gun from under the couch.

“Don’t move,” you growl, cocking the gun at him. “You move and I’ll shoot.” 

Toji, red in the face and panting, glares up at you. “Please,” he scoffs. “You act like you’re the first bitch that’s put a gun to my head.” Before you can blink, he is swinging the bottle at you. You duck which is a mistake because Toji uses that opening to tackle you to the ground. You struggle and growl, turning into an animal as he wrestles with you for your gun. 

He ends up winning, flipping you over and pinning you down to the floor with his body. “Get off!” you scream, still wriggling around. “Get off me!” Click. The barrel of your gun presses to your temple. “If you don’t shut up, I’ll make you regret it,” he growls. 

His fingers move your hair back away from your ear and pry the earpiece out of your ear. He snarls at it as if it’s nothing but a bug. “God, they made these things so much smaller now.” He stands up, keeping the gun on you, and stomps on the earpiece, breaking it. “Whoops!” he mockingly says. “They should still be able to find ya though. I don’t plan on movin’ ya to another location…if you don’t piss me off.” 

The gun clicks again. “Turn around slowly,” he demands. Despite your reluctance to do so, you slowly turn around and face him, lying on your back with your own shit pointed at you as Toji stands above you. “How did you know?” you whisper. 

He smirks, appearing like the Devil in your eyes. “It wasn’t hard, darlin’,” he chuckles. “Dancers don’t eye me up the way you were. You looked like you were out for blood, not dollars. Not to mention the gun I saw at your hip.” You flush, cursing yourself. You should’ve been smarter. Of course, he would know. He spends his days having people hunt him down. 

His smirk fades, his expression darkening. “Who sent you?” he demands. “And don’t lie. You don’t wanna know what I do with liars.” The gun cocks, his finger trained on the trigger. You glare at him, hating his guts even more than you had before you met him. So you weakly confess. He guffaws, shaking his head in disbelief. “Damn, those guys? They’ve been after me for years!” 

“You’re a criminal,” you hiss despite the gun in your face. “You only got this far because of you dippin’ your hands in crime and gettin’ blood on your fists. I’m here to stop you.”

Toji’s brows raise in shock though he’s intrigued by your stubbornness. He squats down in front of you, still pointing the gun at your head. “And how are you gonna do that, huh, little girl?” he asks. 

Not even thinking, you hollow your lips and wallop a glob of spit in Toji’s handsome face before quickly turning over and scrambling to the door. However, Toji is just as fast and has his big, tatted arms wrapped around you, squeezing you tight. You can’t elbow him anywhere because your arms are stuck in his, leaving you to kick and wriggle.

“Oooh, I love a feisty bitch,” he chuckles. “Makes it a lot more fun to break ‘em.” 

He begins to walk with you over to a nearby wall and slams you against it, knocking the air out of your lungs. You find yourself pressed against the wall and him who is equally as hard and unmoving as the solid wall against your front.

He shoves the side of your face into the wall while he pins your arms behind your back, causing your muscles to explode with pain at being stretched back too far. “Get off!” you cry. “O-Ow, that hurts!” 

Toji tugs on your arms again, emitting a weak whine of pain from you. “That’s what you get for fuckin’ with me,” he growls. “Now what should I do with you? Kill you? Leave your agency to find you here?” The gun once again presses against your temple, cold and unrelenting. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, tears pushing back the ducks. You can’t beat this. You can’t fight this. “Do it,” you sob. “Just do it!” You go limp against him, waiting to feel that bullet penetrating your skull and for the void to come to collect you…but instead, Toji takes the gun away from you, leaving an indent on your temple. “No,” he says. “I’ve got a better idea.” 

You open your eyes, confused but also scared. What else is he planning to do with you? Before you can answer, you hear the undeniable sounds of his zipper coming down and the clinking of his metal belt buckle. Your body instant seizes, fear flooding your insides.

“I’m gonna make sure you remember tonight and what happens when you fuck with a guy like me. Tonight, babydoll, you’re mine. You don’t have a choice. You’re mine and I’m gonna show you what that means.” 

With his belt finally in his hands, he trains the gun on you. “Put your hands against the wall and stick that ass out,” he demands, his voice void of all emotion. “Do it now.” Outnumbered and out of tricks, you do as he says, trembling as you do so. 

“Bad girls like you need to be punished,” he says before the belt comes down hard onto your right asscheek. WHACK! The sharp sound of the leather hitting the soft, jiggly flesh of your ass penetrates the air. It feels like fire has licked your skin and your knees buckle at the pain. “Ow!” you cry out. 

Toji cackles at your agony, finding enjoyment and cuteness in it. “What, that hurt?” he laughs. “You don’t like the pain? I’m sure a girl like you has taken plenty of worse things before.” He raises his arm and whips the same cheek twice.

WHACK! WHACK! You flinch at each sharp hit, each one becoming more painful than the last. “Hurts, don’t it?” he snickers. “Don’t you regret pullin’ that shit with me now, babydoll, hm?” 

He then proceeds to whip your left cheek, not allowing you any time to recover or breathe. 

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! You bite your lip so hard that you nearly draw blood, the burning of your backside too much to bear. “S-Stop!” you whine. “Please stop!” 

Toji’s big hands wrap around your mouth, covering it. “Don’t speak,” he whispers into your ear, his breath the scent of whiskey and mint. “You don’t get to speak. Just take it.” You have no choice but to do so as he wails on your ass again and again, the leather cracking like fire against your jiggly ass. “God, that recoil,” he groans. “I’m gonna enjoy my time with you, baby doll.” 

You don’t answer, too busy holding back tears that have begun to push at your eye sockets. Toji finally stops and tosses his head back to laugh. “Are you cryin’?” he laughs in disbelief. “Damn, and all from some spankings? And here I thought you were this tough bitch.” 

You burn with resentment and humiliation, but all of that is pushed aside when he forces you to stand up straight and tugs your arms behind your back. You begin to panic but don’t say anything as he tightens his belt around your wrists and locks the belt buckle around them. “Turn around,” he finally says. 

Despite your tiny sobs, you do so and face him. His eyes are hooded and dark with obvious lust for you. He uses one big hand to force you onto your knees, right in front of his open fly and hard cock that you can see pressing against his designer briefs. “I’ll give you somethin’ to cry about,” he growls. He points the gun at your face, specifically at your lips. “Open your mouth and suck on it.” 

His expression, dark and chilling you to the bone, makes you feel as if you don’t have a choice..and not the loaded gun pressing to your lips. Swallowing hard, you shakily open your mouth and he slides the pistol in. The metal feels cold and hard in your mouth, making you cringe. “That’s it,” Toji chuckles. “Take that shit, baby. C’mon, don’t you wanna please me?” 

Slowly, you begin to suck, hollowing your lips out against the gun. Though you tremble and shake, you squeeze your eyes shut and try to imagine the gun as a hard, warm, throbbing cock instead. Toji moans as if you’re sucking on him, watching your tongue swirl along the barrel and your head bob. 

“Fuck, baby doll,” he groans. “You’ve got such a mouth on ya.” He slides it in further, the metal scraping against your teeth, until he reaches your throat. You gag and try to pull away, but Toji grips the back of your head.

“Uh-uh, mama,” he snickers. “You don’t get to get outta this. C’mon, just open your throat and breathe through your nose. You can do it.” He continues to push and pull, the gun sliding in and out of your mouth, while you struggle to breathe. You can feel sweat pool under your pits and between your cleavage all from your fear. Toji’s finger isn’t on the trigger anymore, but it doesn’t matter. He could change that in a second. 

So you suck and you slurp and you bob your head up and down like a good little slut, staring him into his eyes while spit drips from your lips. Finally satisfied, Toji pulls the gun out of your lips now coated in your saliva. “You fuckin’ slut,” he pants. “Now I need to try ya out for myself.” 

He pockets the gun and, with one hand, pulls down his briefs. His big, long, throbbing, veiny, perfect-looking dick springs to life. It damn near hits you in the face, making you gasp. “Sorry, mama,” he chuckles. “He just likes you.”

He wraps a hand around his 12-inch dick, pumping it lewdly in your face. “So you finna stare at it or suck it?” he deadpans, but he doesn’t wait for you to answer or recover. 

“W-Wait,” you stammer.

That’s all you get to say before his cock is pushing between your lips and into your mouth. He releases a moan when he first slides into your mouth, his eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of your wet mouth, soft lips, and tongue wrapping around him. Meanwhile, you’re struggling to take him. His girthy dick stretches out your jaw and your throat as he pushes himself in deep. 

“C’mon, babydoll,” he chuckles. “That can’t be all you can take of me.” He continues to push, filling your tongue and nostrils with the scent and taste of him. The walls of your throat have no choice but to accommodate his size though it burns and you gag as he begins to slowly yet roughly thrust into your mouth. “Maybe this will help ya out,” he says. Suddenly, he retrieves a pocket knife from his pocket and flicks it open. 

Fear flares into your stomach, making you want to jump away, but his large hand keeps you locked down on his cock. He presses the knife to your throat, chuckling as he does. “Careful now,” he warns. “You lean too close and that pretty neck might get sliced. I just wanna encourage you to do a good job.” He grips your hair and wrenches it up to look at him. “And you will do a good job for me, won’t you?” he asks. 

His tone makes it so you can’t refuse, so you say yes and allow him to force your head back down onto his cock before pulling it back. He does that for a while––pushing and pulling your head down onto his dick like you’re his toy while he uses your sloppy, wet mouth like it’s a fleshlight. “Fuck!” he shouts to the ceiling. “This fuckin’ mouth is heaven, baby. I hope your pussy is just as tight as your tight ass throat.” 

You gargle and mumble on his cock, causing pleasurable vibrations to travel throughout his body and his heavy balls that drip with your saliva. He continues to fuck your face and ruin your makeup, marveling at how beautiful you look choking on his cock. “Look at you, you little slut,” he dreamily sighs. “Makeup all fucked up. Hair ruined. You’re just a little mess for me, aren’t ya?” 

He slides his cock out of your throat and you take a grateful gulp of air, strands of your hair stuck to your wet lips and chin. He takes the knife and slides it along your chin, smirking down at you. “Now it’s my turn to taste you,” he murmurs. Before you can protest, he is picking you up, tossing you over his shoulder, and placing you on your stomach with your arms still tied behind you. 

“Please!” you sob, beginning to cry again. Toji straddles your ass, one hand massaging the globes of fat in your thong while the other holds his knife. “Please what, baby?” he mockingly coos. “I ain’t even touch you yet.” You then feel the cool metal of the knife dragging up your spine, sending shivers down your spine. “Time to get your sexy ass out of these fuckin’ clothes,” he growls. 

You flinch when you feel the knife drag up to your left shoulder where it cuts the bra strap. He does the same to your left one before positioning you onto your knees with your wrists slung over the couch arm. Your tits are now exposed, hanging like ripe, juicy fruit beneath you. Then off comes your thong with two swipes of the knife cutting through the thin straps. You sob helplessly as the cool air touches your sodden, wet pussy. 

“Damn, baby!” Toji cackles. “Are you wet from all this? You naughty little girl.” His middle and forefingers gently probe your entrance and slide up and down your slit, dragging unwanted moans out of you. “I’m gonna have some fun with you,” he chuckles. “Make sure you never forget about me.” 

He then bends you over the couch and proceeds to put his hot, wet, experienced mouth on your pussy while the knife stays pressed against your thigh. You whine at the feeling of his soft lips and tongue swirling along your clit and every sensitive part of you, opening your pussy up to more of him. He drowns in your pussy, pushing his face into it as far as he can and letting his tongue do all of the talking. 

You can’t stop the moans and gasps that escape you. The pleasure is just too much and too good! What a shame that a man who is so good at eating kitty is the same man you were sent here to kill. “Toji,” you moan, using his name for the first time ever. “Please…please!” 

Toji’s one hand massages and smacks your ass, becoming aoslutely obessed with it. “What do you need, babydoll?” he coos against your clit. “You need somethin’?” You nod helplessly though you have no clue what you need at this point. “Tell me you’re mine then,” he growls. “Say it and fuckin’ mean it. Say you’re my good little slut.” 

You keep your lips clamped tight, not wanting to swallow your pride or give up that tiny part of you that hates him still. SPANK! Your ass stings from his assault on your ass, his hand no doubt leaving a handprint. “Say it!” he bellows. 

At the blinding pain, pleasure, and delirium, you break. “I’m yours!” you sob. “I’m your good girl! Your good little slut! I’m everything you want me to be!”

Toji, pleased, presses soothing kisses to your burning asscheek. “Good girl,” he praises. “See how easy that was? Now you get your reward.” Suddenly, you feel his thick cock smack against your pussy once, twice, three times and then he is sliding home inside of you. 

Your mouth goes slack and your eyes grow wide as he begins to rocks his hips into, allowing you to get used to him. He is big. You can feel him stretching out every part of your cunt as he sinks deeper into your velvety, wet walls. “Fuck,” he sighs, one hand clutching your hip. “Not bad, babydoll. Your pussy is definitely the best one I’ve fucked…so far.” 

He begins to fuck you harder, faster, railing you as if this will be his last time doing so. Your moans and huffs of breath become louder and more intense the harder and deeper his cock plunges inside of you. “W-Wait!” you gasp. “Slow down! I can’t…can’t!”

Toji chuckles, watching your ass bounce against his pelvis as he fucks you. “Sorry, honey,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. “I couldn’t help it. You just sound so cute.” 

Your thighs clench and your body writhes as he rails you, unable to take this deep dicking into the couch. You try to move away but the knife suddenly sliding against your throat stops you. “Uh-uh, babydoll,” he growls. “Don’t run from me. I wouldn’t try it if I were you.” He then pops his knee up, his foot up on the couch, and reaches a part inside of you that makes you feel unimaginable pleasure. 

“Just take me like a good girl, okay?” he whispers. “You can do that for me if you wanna live.” You don’t have a choice in the matter, mostly because of the hold he has on your arms, pulling you back as drives himself forward again and again. The sound of your moans, his grunts, and the lewd plap, plap, plap as his balls swing against your overly-sensitive clit and his hips slam into your ass fill the air, drowned out by the music playing outside. 

“Who would’ve thought,” Toji pants into your ear. “C.O.D.E.’s good little spy gettin’ her brains fucked out on a mission, huh? I bet they’d love to see this.” His free hand releases your arms and yanks on a handful of your hair. “I bet they’d love to see you full of me,” he growls. “Full of this dick and my cum.”

He presses the knife deeper into your throat, just enough for you to feel the sharp, jagged edge of the blade. “You wanna cum for me, baby?” he asks. “You gonna be a good slut and take all my cum too?” 

“Please!” you whimper, losing your mind and all of your pride. “Please just make me cum! I’ll do whatever you want, Toji!” He takes the knife from your throat and replaces it with his hand, choking you as he fucks you stupid. “Then do it,” he demands. “Fuckin’ cum on this cock while I fill you up. Cum with me now!” 

“Ah, ah, fuck, I-I’m gonna cum!” you deliriously sob as he continues to pound into you. “I’m gonna…gonna–!”

You don’t get a chance to finish because your pussy has finally reached its limit and explodes all over him, your walls squeezing around him and your clit shuddering. You reaching your peak triggers Toji and he grips your throat and ass as he comes to a still, his entire body tensing. “Fuck!” he bellows, cumming deep, deep, deep inside of you. 

You gasp as you feel a rush of warm liquid flood into your pussy while you gush all over his cock, dripping down his balls. He fills you to the brim, giving you so much that it has no choice but to trickle down your thighs. He doesn’t immediately pull out though––he continues to fuck you, albeit slowly and sloppily, before giving your tit one feeble squeeze and finally pulling out of you. 

You weakly moan at the feeling of being empty yet used, your pussy twitching and aching. “Mmm, now look at that,” he sighs dreamily, staring at your cum-soaked cunt. “Now that’s a properly fucked pussy if I do say so myself.” He takes a handful of your chin, squeezing your cheeks together, and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Not bad, babydoll.” 

You don’t respond, too weak and too tired to do so. You’re too tired to even feel any amount of disgust for him and shame in yourself for failing the mission and enjoying the sex. “Let’s get this off of you,” Toji says, his hands unbuckling the belt from your wrists. “I’m gon’ need it for myself, anyway.” He releases your wrists and lets you lay on the couch, panting and coated in sweat. 

Your makeup and hair are ruined. Your underwear is in tatters. You feel used and fucked-out. You can only stare at Toji as he quickly gets dressed and straightens out his clothes, his cock still covered in you. “I’m sorry, baby, but I’ve gotta go before your people get here.” He gives you an apologetic smile. “But gimme a call since I’m sure you can find that out. Maybe we can do this again.” 

He then moves to the extra bathroom behind the couch and retrieves a robe which he covers you with. “See?” he chuckles. “I ain’t that big of an asshole.” He presses a kiss to your lips before bending down to pick up your thong. “Thanks for this,” he says, dangling it in front of you. “And the dance. I’ll cherish both forever.” 

You don’t say anything, even as you watch him leave, taking your thong and your dignity with you.

Then you are alone. At some point, you find the strength to stand up and wobble to the bathroom where you take a hot shower, washing the scent of sex and cum off of you. When you return, dressed in your robe, the door busts in, and your boss and fellow spies enter the room, guns drawn and masks on their faces. 

“V!” your boss shouts, instantly dropping his weapon and running to you. His eyes widen at your state, looking for any bruises or scars. There are none…that are physical, anyway. “V, what happened?” he asks. 

And as the events of tonight come flooding back to you at full speed, you muster up the most believable lie you can, clutching your robe closed: 

“He overpowered me.” 

#black fanfic writer #smutty smut #my works #black coded reader #black writers #my fic shit #jjk smut #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x black reader #toxic relationship #toji x self insert

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

hbd to the explosion king! takes place in this universe and yes, im deadnaming twitter

dynamight is trending again on social media—this time in celebration for his birthday.

there’s thousands if not millions of birthday wishes being sent his way through all his platforms. comments, posts, tags; any and all forms of interaction in the online world that would overload a normal person’s notifications. deku posts and tags a childhood photo of the both them from his account. uravity also posts the clip from their time in the sports tournament when she was selected to fight him, her caption joking that she still toughed it out against him but was lucky also to fight someone so strong too. continuing on with the throwback theme, red riot posts a photo of when they graduated UA along with a very manly caption in celebration of his birthday.

there’s an overflow of birthday wishes for the explosion hero.

his profile was as quiet as ever. the last post made was of his newborn’s hand clutching his finger that was captioned with a blue heart. that post was uploaded almost nine months ago. that is until his birthday comes along and one interaction from him gets everyone in a tizzy again.

dynamight doesn’t address his birthday, at least not formally.

from his twitter, he retweets a single post from you that tagged him. the post—

“happy birthday to my number one hero @ dynamight!! let’s fuck around and make another baby 🤪”

his reply to the tweet: “yes ma’am.”

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

“WHERE IS MY WIFE?”

♡ — 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: curses & curse users have discovered satoru’s greatest weakness, and it’s you, satoru’s sweet, ordinary housewife. after getting kidnapped by gojo’s enemies, he’ll do whatever it takes to get you back.

♡ — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: 18+ only - mdni - slightly dark content // brief smut, fem reader, feral gojo, canon-typical violence, reader gets kidnapped, reader is wounded/has injuries, angst, fluff/comfort

♡ — 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 5K

♡ —𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: I’d count grains of sand if it meant I could spend one minute alone with feral gojo (:

As evening fell, and after a delicious dinner was eaten at the dining table downstairs, Satoru was in the mood for something else now — you.

His pretty housewife would be his dessert.

The apple pie you baked was sitting on the dark marbled counter of the kitchen island, two big slices missing — and the vanilla ice cream tub in the freezer had, of course, two hefty spherical digs in it where the cold treat was scooped out — but, even after his stomach was stuffed after a hard day of fighting curses and teaching his students, Satoru’s head was buried in between your soft thighs, satisfying his other craving.

As your husband moaned softly, his tongue danced around your aching clit. His large hand massaged your thigh. The moonlight pouring in through the big bedroom window shined upon his wedding ring, making it glisten as he rubbed your delicate skin.

“I’ll never get tired of tasting you,” Satoru smiled a bit, his warm breath patting against your wet folds.

“You were made just for me. God, I love it. I love you.”

Two long fingers sunk into your awaiting hole. He attached his soft lips to your clit, sucking on it.

One of your hands gripped at the luxurious pale-cerulean sheets, while your other hand gripped his hair, fingers getting lost in his white locks.

“Satoru!” A sharp moan escaped your dried throat.

Every little noise you made — every moan, every squeak of the thick mattress — it all boasted his desire to please you.

He didn’t stop his licking-sucking-fingering combo until your legs were trembling around his head and he was satisfied with tasting your juices.

Only after devouring your pussy like a starving man feasting on a buffet-style dinner did he rise from his position and make his way across the bed, hovering over you.

With a smile, Satoru leaned down and planted a soft kiss against your lips. But, when he pulled away, he was met with an amused look of disgust.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, furrowing his brows a bit.

“You just kissed me after eating me out,” you said with a little, playful grimace. “That’s nasty.”

“Mrs. Gojo, I mean this in the most respectful way possible, but hush.” Satoru lightly tapped your forehead. “You have swallowed plenty of my-”

“Ah, ah, ah,” shaking your head, you cut off your husband’s naughty sentence, pressing your hand against his lips.

The corners of your mouth burned as you tried to fight off a smile. His latest affectionate nickname was Mrs. Gojo — although it truly wasn’t a nickname due to it technically being your name now — and at every given opportunity, he addressed you that way.

Even after two years of marriage, he was as excited as a freshly wedded man. Your love was a never-ending honeymoon.

You stared into Satoru’s striking blue eyes. He darted his gaze across your gorgeous face, illuminated by the moonlight, and as you ran your fingers through his white hair and he ran his thumb across your cheek, both of you close enough to feel the gentle pats of each other’s breaths on your mesmerizing faces, you both fell in love with each other just a bit more — if that was even possible.

“Can I fuck you now?”

Satoru’s question made a sudden chuckle spilled out from between your lips. He couldn’t help but laugh too.

“You’re a buffoon. I’m trying to admire your beauty and that’s what you open your mouth to say?” You playfully frowned.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard a human being call another human being a buffoon out loud before.”

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes humorously. “We need to do our skincare routine first. We have to do it an hour before we go to bed or else we might just rub all the product off. I read that somewhere.”

“Why didn’t we do it before we got into bed in the first place?” Satoru buried his head in the crook of your neck, pouting, but taking a moment to press a little kiss onto your skin.

“Because you were acting as if you were dying of poison and eating me out was the antidote, so I forgot.” you giggled softly.

“Fine, fine,” your husband slowly rolled off of you in defeat. “Skincare routine, nothing more. Please don’t start trying to organize the bath towels.”

“I’m not making any promises,” you said, getting out of bed and following Satoru into the master bathroom.

There, you and your husband stood in front of the big mirror, cleansing and moisturizing your skin as you both chatted about his students, a movie you watched three days ago, and your breakfast plans in the morning.

And it was those sweet little moments that made Satoru’s heart skip a beat. As he flickered his eyes over to your reflection, watching your smother smooth white cream all over your face as you rambled on about a new egg recipe, he couldn’t help but think about how much he loved you.

—

6:00 A.M.

That night ended with soft sex and gentle kisses.

That morning, Satoru’s white eyelashes fluttered open to the early morning sun starting to rise, casting rays through the drawn window curtains and across his comforter.

He squinted his eyes and yawned.

Typically, he was the sort of man who would never wake up at the ungodly hour if he could help it, but the tantalizing aroma of fresh coffee and sizzling eggs had traveled from the kitchen downstairs to right underneath his nose.

Tossing on his blue houseboat, the grumpy-faced man dragged himself into the kitchen, greeting you with a slightly gruff morning voice and a messy head of hair.

“Good morning, baby,” Satoru walked around the kitchen island and loosely wrapped his arms around your waist, hugging you from behind. “How’d you sleep? I had a nightmare.”

With a spatula in one hand, you flipped the omelet in the skillet on the six-burner stove. With the other hand, you rubbed his arm, enjoying the warmth his hovering hug had brought.

“I slept alright,” you said. “Did the smell wake you up?”

“Always does,” he smiled lazily although you couldn’t see it.

“Well, your drink’s ready,” you gave a nod in the general direction of the silver espresso machine, which hummed as it brewed Satoru’s steamy beverage.

“I don’t deserve you,” Satoru’s arms hugged you tighter, and he showered the side of your head with kisses.

“Stop it,” your sweet laughter only egged him on as you clenched the spatula and leaned back against him even more. “No fooling around when we’re this close to the stove.”

Satoru eventually backed away after giving you one final kiss against your forehead temple.

“If all goes well, I should be back home tomorrow before dark, then we can check out that new restaurant. What do you say? I personally think it’s time for a date.”

The image of you and Satoru sipping on wine and as you wore your favorite dress flashed in your mind, and you smiled. A date night was certainly something to look forward to in light of Satoru’s overnight trip.

Sorcering duties had often taken him on distant work trips. Truth be told, you were lucky his departure would only last around twenty-four hours and not twenty-four days. Although you missed him whenever he would leave, you understood his choice of career. He was a hero.

You happened to be an ordinary human being. You couldn’t see curses. You couldn’t use cursed energy or cursed techniques, but you were fine with that.

“A date sounds fun! I’m excited now.” You took the omelet out of the skillet and placed it on a nearby plate. “And we’re making time to try out that new pottery class too. It sounds like such a cute date idea, don’t you think so?”

“I’m with you. I’ll make the reservations for the restaurant, you can schedule us for pottery-making.” This time, he was the one blissfully picturing you and him spinning messy clay with him sitting behind you and reaching around your body for the pottery wheel, your fingers intertwined as you both created a pot. Satoru smiled at the thought. “Anyway, now that you’re done cooking, can I kiss you?”

You nodded with a cheeky grin, and your husband pressed his lips against yours sweetly.

It was as if some part of him was frightened that he would never get the opportunity to kiss you again.

—

8:37 P.M.

The bright light far above your head flickered briefly as you stood in the pasta aisle at your local grocery store, but you hadn’t noticed it, too fixated on the different brands of spaghetti noodles lying on the shelf above you.

Shopping at night wasn’t preferable, but only after tossing together a simmering pan of sauce did you realize you hadn’t started boiling your noodles yet.

And, with your pot of simmering water ready, you opened the cabinet to see no noodles.

So, here you were, making a last-minute, unplanned trip to the grocery store.

By now, the only sort of pasta noodles left were the ones that a person of average height couldn’t reach. Every box was too high.

You turned your head to the left and to the right.

You even bothered to walk down a few aisles to search for an employee or anyone who might have been tall enough to reach your needed item, but the only other person staggering around was an older blonde-haired woman who was shorter than you were.

Frowning in frustration, you returned to the pasta aisle.

If you had to climb the shelves, so be it.

Suddenly, a kind voice spoke over the calming public-friendly background music playing softly in the store.

“Need some help?”

Whipping your head around, you saw a person — a taller person, thank goodness — who had a smile that was just as sweet as his voice.

“Yes, thank you!” You found that his grin was rather contagious, as you ended up smiling as well. “I just need the spaghetti noodles on the top shelf. Any brand will do.”

The beaming man with long, dark hair stepped forward, and you moved to the side, letting the apparent hero save your day.

He pulled down your desired spaghetti noodles with ease.

“Thanks for your help. My spaghetti sauce won’t go to waste now,” you said politely.

Your eyes darted up to the stitched scar across his forehead, then quickly, you glanced away.

“You’re welcome. Have a good night.”

The man walked down the aisle and left.

There was something familiar about him, oddly enough.

That hair . . . that smile . . .

He reminded you of an old, deceased friend of Satoru’s, one that you hadn’t ever met due to his villainous behavior before his death, but you had seen an old picture of him that he and your husband took during their second year at Jujutsu High, years ago.

As you placed the pasta noodles into your cart, making your way around different aisles to collect a few more items since you were already at the store, you decided that you’d take another look at that photograph once you arrived home, just for peace of mind.

The brown paper bag stuffed with groceries felt rather heavy as you walked down the street, which was brightened by light pouring out of the windows of local businesses that hadn’t yet closed.

You sighed softly.

The dark sky was sparkling with stars. The air was cool and comforting. Soon, you’d have pasta, and perhaps, you’d watch a few episodes of your favorite binge-worthy Netflix show.

If only Satoru was with you.

Chatting with him on the phone a few hours ago only made you miss him even more, but, at least his trip would be a quick one, and soon, you could have dinner with him and listen to his hilarious commentary as you watched television together.

After walking for around five minutes, you were no longer close to the local businesses that made you feel a sense of comfort during your evening stroll.

Now, you had to rely on the occasional streetlight to guide you home.

But that cold air was no longer comforting. It was a chilling breeze that made you clench your grocery bag a bit tighter.

Your footsteps suddenly halted — you could hear something moving in the nearby bushes.

Turning around, you were greeted with nothing but darkness and streetlights. No one else was with you. You kept walking.

However, something wasn’t right.

You might not have been a sorcerer, but you weren’t a fool.

And you had a gut-wrenching feeling that right now, as your wobbly legs guided you home, you were being watched.

You heard that noise again.

The grocery bag crinkled against your chest. You were certain that the bread you purchased was squished by now. If someone was following you, did you really want to unintentionally lead them to your home?

Where should you go? What should you do?

A tear rolled down your cheek from fear.

You were scared. You only wanted to go home, finish your pasta, and watch television.

You didn’t want to deal with such a potentially terrifying situation.

Pulling out your phone, you opened your dial screen.

Your trembling thumb hovered over the buttons, but before you could press anything, a black, disfigured curse appeared in front of you, screeching loudly enough to make you drop everything in your hands and cover your ears, more tears falling as the horrifying monster started to charge at you.

You tried to run in the other direction, but it was too late.

The last thing you saw before you were engulfed by darkness was that man from the grocery store standing on the sidewalk, that same sweet smile on his familiar face.

—

12:27 A.M.

Satoru’s eyes snapped open. He couldn’t remember falling asleep, as he had spent most of the night tossing and turning because you weren’t lying next to him. But, apparently, he did manage to catch a couple of hours of shut-eye.

When he awakened, there was a terrible ache in his heart. Dread pooled in the pit of his stomach, and beads of sweat decorated his forehead. His throat was dried to a crisp.

He was all alone in his dark hotel room.

He couldn’t hear you.

He couldn’t see you.

And yet, somehow, someway, thanks to his great power, he knew that his wife was calling for him.

—

The overwhelming scent of old, wet, musky wood and dust would never be forgotten by your memory. A lifetime of therapy would never be able to erase the paralyzing fear you felt, sitting on the cold, hard ground of an abandoned cabin with your hands bound behind your back.

Maybe the fear wasn’t completely paralyzing, though. Your body seemed to tremble with terror just fine.

The sight of it made Suguru Geto — no, Kenjaku chuckle.

He kept his eye on you for no other reason besides his entertainment, as watching you himself was pointless considering he had two frightening curses looming over you.

Once, Satoru shared a fun fact with you: regular human beings cannot see curses unless they are about to die.

That fact was certainly interesting when the two of you were strolling through the beautiful park, a red and white striped blanket in your hand and a picnic basket in his. But, now, that fact only made sweat drip off of your scarred forehead, because you could see the two, black, disfigured curses.

It was a telltale sign that you could die.

“I haven’t had the displeasure of meeting him myself,” Kenjaku suddenly spoke, relaxing in a chair he had positioned a few feet away from the corner you were trapped in. “But I have seen memories of Satoru Gojo that belonged to this body I’ve inhabited. And, I must say, I couldn’t imagine that his wife would be such a weakling. It’s truly pathetic.”

Even if you wanted to reply to him, fear had snatched away your ability to speak. It created a lump in your throat that couldn’t be swallowed down.

“My best guess is that he needs someone boring and ordinary in his life to keep house while he’s busy saving the world. You’re just the cook and maid with a ring on her finger, hm?”

“He loves me.”

Your voice was small — it was a painfully perfect reflection of how you felt on the inside. Weak and pathetic.

“Oh?” Kenjaku raised his eyebrows, smiling slightly. “Believe it or not, I hope you’re right, or else kidnapping you was a waste of time.”

Your chains rattled as you shifted in your spot on the floor, scooting as far into the corner as you could get. An ache shot up your spine from the wall pressing into your back. Pulling your knees to your chest, more tears slipped from your eyes.

“Aw, don’t cry,” he falsely cooed. “Surely you’ve wondered why the world’s strongest sorcerer would settle for someone who forgets to double-check all of their ingredients before they start cooking, haven’t you? It’s not because of love, or anything of the sort. It’s because those who are deeply insecure would do anything to please anyone who looks their way. Only an ordinary, desperate housewife with low self-esteem and no ambition would waste time caring for a man who risks his life saving strangers. What would make you think he cares for you when he spends more time with curses than his own wife? Helping strangers more than his own family? Think about it.”

Kenjaku’s hurtful words were met with silence, but he didn’t stop speaking.

“I bet you’re nothing but a burden to him. Someone like him probably hates being tied down, but marrying a fool who contributes nothing to society is the only way he can get someone else to handle his laundry while he’s busy working hard, hm? He must carry around divorce papers, ready to serve them to you the day you forget to buy detergent from the grocery store.” Kenjaku’s smile brightened. “Oh, that reminds me. You dropped your detergent and other groceries on the road earlier, by the way. Looks like you’re useless now.”

“You . . .” your teary eyes flickered from him to the hovering curses. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. None of that’s true.”

“You have to believe that I’m speaking honestly, Y/N.” Kenjaku sighed with fake sincerity. “My entire plan rests on the hope that Satoru Gojo is foolish enough to try to rescue you. You see, when you want to lure someone out, the proper way to do it is by discovering their weaknesses. When I found out about you, I was hoping that you would be his weakness. That I could use you to lure him out. Then I met you, and, well, you’re simply disappointing. Sorry to break it to you, but I have memories of the old conversations Satoru used to have with Suguru, and being tied down to a powerless housewife was certainly not how he imagined his future. But, I figured I’d try anyway, and so here you are, and he’s not here to rescue you. What a shame. I bet he’s hoping I’ll kill you so he’ll be free.”

He was lying. He had to be. Satoru loved you more than anything . . . right?

The thought had crossed your mind before; why did Satoru want to be with someone powerless? And this villain’s plan to lure out your husband relied on his hope that he’d come to rescue you out of love, so how would it benefit him to convince you Satoru didn’t love you?

Maybe he was right.

After all, if Satoru cared for you, he would have saved you by now. Where was he?

You couldn’t help but cry even harder.

“Please let me go home,” your tears clouded your vision. “Please let me go.”

“Well, you should know that I hate wasting time,” Kenjaku rested his chin in the palm of his hand, elbow pressing into the arm of the chair he sat in. “I can’t let you leave. I won’t let the effort I put into kidnapping you be a total waste.”

Kenjaku’s smile widened, and suddenly, the curses started to move towards you.

—

1:45 A.M.

The subway station was isolated. No ordinary human beings were lurking around, and Satoru was relieved. Right now, he’d kill anyone who looked at him the wrong way.

His shoes gently shuffled against the ground as he made his way into the middle of the big, bright opening, and he clenched his fists, his nails digging into the skin of his palm, hard enough to draw blood.

Two special grade cursed spirits emerged. He recognized them both from a previous fight in the woods.

Volcano head. Asparagus.

“Satoru Gojo,” Jogo suddenly said. “We didn’t think you’d be foolish enough to-”

“Where is my wife?”

When Satoru interrupted the curse, his voice was low. Dark. Startling.

Blood dripped from his palms and splattered onto the ground.

“I was drawn here, but she isn’t here, is she? Where is she? Tell me now, and I’ll kill you quickly instead of slowly.”

Jogo chuckled a bit. Satoru dug his nails into his palm even more.

“Bring us the vessel, Yuji Itadori, and we’ll return that worthless-”

The two curses didn’t have time to blink — weren’t able to register in their minds that Satoru had moved from his previous spot until Jogo was lifted off of the ground and thrown into the flickering light fixture above, shattering it and causing sparks to rain down onto the ground below, where he then fell.

Satoru stepped on Jogo’s head, squishing it underneath his black shoe.

“I remember you. You’re stubborn, right?” Satoru gritted his teeth. “Who the hell do you think you are to take her from me? Whoever you work for must want you dead if they’re stupid enough to send you on a suicide mission. You think I’ll let you leave here alive after this?”

“If you kill us, you’ll never see her again,” the other cursed spirit, Hanami, suddenly spoke up. “Bring us the vessel, and she lives.”

When Satoru suddenly stopped moving, it was only to ensure that he had heard the cursed spirit correctly.

“Did you just threaten . . .” Satoru removed his blindfold, “to kill my wife?”

It was only a matter of time before the branches attached to Hanami’s head were ripped out, and Jogo was beheaded. The subway was reduced to nothing except crumbling walls and darkness. While the cursed spirits were teetering dangerously between life and death, there wasn’t a scratch on Satoru. Instead, there was a smile.

This was simply the consequence of their actions. This was what happened to anyone who laid a hand on his girl.

Hanami’s body was on the brink of collapse as it was forced to come in contact with Satoru’s cursed technique — a blue shield-like piece of infinity that distorted and manipulated both time and space, protecting the sorcerer from attacks and rendering Hanami powerless.

Hanami’s eyes darted over to their beheaded ally — they couldn’t help him.

“I’m going to ask you one last time,” Satoru’s eyes widened. His smile grew. He slowly turned, facing Hanami, and blasted him back against the nearest wall without lifting a finger. “Where is my wife?”

—

2:39 A.M.

Kenjaku had never understood the concept of love, and, perhaps, that was why he failed.

Satoru’s love for you was his weakness, that was true, but it also turned out to be his greatest strength, and this was a fight Kenjaku couldn’t win.

Not today.

One of his curses, which had been traveling to and fro to observe what was currently taking place in the subway station and reporting it back to Kenjaku, had informed him that Jogo and Hanami were on the brink of death.

He couldn’t lose them yet. They were too powerful, and he needed their help for his future plans.

Kenjaku left the cabin, taking his curses with him.

And, without their cursed energy purposely making it difficult for Satoru to find you, he was able to pinpoint your exact location.

It appeared in his powerful mind as he was ripping Hanami apart limb by limb, and he wasn’t a fool. He didn’t know who was behind all of this, but it was clear that the mastermind had suddenly decided to let your whereabouts be tracked down in order to save Hanami and Jogo.

He didn’t want to make that deal. He wanted to kill these two, bring them back to life, and kill them over again. Their pain brought him joy, all because they took part in your capture.

But Satoru didn’t want his bloodlust to backfire. After all, if he killed the cursed spirits now, the person who held you captive could change their mind and move you someplace else and hide your location yet again, or, worse — they could kill you.

That wasn’t a chance he was willing to take.

Satoru stopped using his technique. But, as he left the subway station, he promised himself that eventually, he would kill those two. He would kill anyone and everyone involved.

But you came first.

You would always come first.

—

He found you.

When Satoru kicked open the door belonging to a raggedy, abandoned cabin, the scent of blood overwhelmed him. It dirtied his boots as he kneeled by your side. Your unconscious, bleeding body was lying there, simply left on the ground as if you were nothing.

“Y/N . . .” Satoru called out breathlessly.

He took the chains off of you instantly, his bloodshot eyes darting over every gaping wound.

It was indescribable — the anger he felt. He wanted to return to the subway and finish off those cursed spirits, to make them suffer and suffer and suffer.

But tending to you took priority right now. Satoru scooped up your broken and bruised body, holding you as softly as he could. A tear fell from his eye, splattering against your cheek.

“I’ve got you, it’s okay,” he spoke gently.

Your eyelids fluttered as you awakened. An overwhelming sense of pain slammed into you once you regained consciousness, and hot tears streamed down your cheeks. Prior to this, the only pain you had ever known was the wholesome body ache from tripping and falling while playing outside with your friends as a child. But this level of misery took away your ability to speak. Left you wondering if you were going to die.

You could make out stains of your blood on Satoru’s clothes.

Even so, you could tell based on the pained look on his face that he was suffering even more just from seeing you in such a condition.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he mumbled, slowly getting off the ground as he carried you. “This is all my fault. They did this to you because of me. I’m so sorry.”

Satoru raised you a bit, gently pressing a soft kiss against your forehead.

He’d give anything to switch places with you right now — to be the one in unspeakable pain. Why couldn’t they have kidnapped him? Tortured him? If he had the power to take away your suffering and give it to himself, he would. For you, not only would he kill, but he’d die, repeatedly and without a second thought or a moment of hesitation.

As Satoru took you to the nearest hospital, his tears spilling onto your body, he said, “We’re almost there, okay? I promise I’ll make them pay for this, and no one will ever lay a hand on you again.”

Arriving into the uncomforting white halls of the emergency room, Satoru handed you off to the nurses and doctors who rushed up to him. But, before they placed you on the nearest stretcher, Satoru kissed your forehead once again as unconsciousness claimed you, and he whispered, “I love you, Y/N.”

—

10:02 A.M.

Two days later, you awakened in a hospital bed. This time, pain didn’t greet you, but grogginess and blurred vision. The gentle beeps from the nearby machines certainly didn’t help your pounding headache.

Your sight started to clear up after blinking a few times.

Soft strands of hair tickled your arm, and when you looked to your left, you saw Satoru slumped in a chair, his head resting in his arms on the side of your bed. You reached over and ruffled his messy white hair a bit.

He shot up, startled. His blue eyes were wide with alarm, then they softened with gratefulness, but, lastly, they darted down with sorrow.

“Y/N . . . thank god, you’re awake.” Satoru croaked out in his morning voice, clearing his throat a bit. He was dehydrated — too focused on your recovery to worry about himself. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m so . . .”

Satoru got out of his chair, sat on the side of your bed, and leaned over, resting the side of his head against your chest.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated.

“It’s not your fault,” you mumbled weakly. “It’s mine.”

Satoru pulled his head away from you, staring at you with furrowed brows and a confused gaze.

“What? No, it’s not.”

You couldn’t find the courage to look him in the eye. Kenjaku’s words replayed in your mind. They hurt just as much as getting attacked by curses.

As if reading your thoughts, Satoru cupped your chin, turning your head back in his direction.

“Look at me,” he said. “What happened wasn’t your fault. I know what you’re thinking, and I don’t care if you can’t fight curses-”

“You’re just saying that . . . because I’m kinda useful to you. But I’m easily replaceable. Speaking honestly, I’m a burden. You had to come save my life, and put yourself in danger. I’m not worth it.”

“You think I married you because you’re useful?” Hurt flashed in Satoru’s piercing eyes. “I’m in love with you, and you’ll never be a burden. I don’t care if you can’t fight curses. You’re my wife for a reason, and that’s because there’s nothing greater than seeing you get excited over finding your favorite snack at the grocery store or seeing the way you smile when your favorite scene from a show comes on, and you sit there and watch it as if you haven't seen it a thousand times. I love the way your eyes light up when you find a new activity in town for us to try, or a new book to read, or a new recipe. God, I just . . . I love you. I love you more than anything. I don’t know how you’re able to put up with someone like me. Every day I wonder how I got so lucky because I don’t deserve you. You’re too good for me, and I haven’t met anyone as loving as you are. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Do you understand me? I’d kill and die for you.”

Satoru gently wiped away the tear that fell from your eyes with his thumb.

“I love you too,” you smiled softly, leaning into his touch. “I’m sorry we missed our dinner reservations and the pottery class.”

Satoru couldn’t help but lean in and kiss your cheek.

“I’ve already rescheduled two weeks out.”

Moving away from your cheek, your husband softly kissed your lips. And while he had spent time rescheduling your date night and making sure you were receiving the excellent care you deserved while in the hospital, he was also hard at work, tracking down the monsters that dared to lay a hand on you.

He would make them suffer.

🏷️: @sad-darksoul @priv-rose @yihona-san06 @keriaonmarz @luvvmae @underworldsheiress @notgoodforlife @levisfavoriteteashop @insomniacbehaivour @preciousamethyst @kxmorrx @iwanttohitmyself @shoyosdoll @lil-apple-pie @prettypixigrl @sonarspace @averysmolbear @starstoru @starlightanyaaa @dolphin1135 @nnasv @hyunorue

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

SUNDAY’S BEST

Ft. NANAMI KENTO

𐐪𐑂 ♡ ｡ﾟ ━━━PAIRINGS: Preacher Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader

𐐪𐑂 ♡ ｡ﾟ ━━━CW: barely any religious mentions, established marriage, dub-con, somnophila, oral(f. receiving), cum eating, fingering, (f)masturbation, car sex, mating press, heavy breeding kink, public(ish) sex, creampie

𐐪𐑂 ♡ ｡ﾟ ━━━WORD COUNT: 3.5k

𐐪𐑂 ♡ ｡ﾟ ━━━FROM CHRIS: I mean…it’s nasty. But believe it or not, i rlly love Nanami :3

A preacher’s child.

They say the life of one is filled with the hardest expectations to fill. Constantly being judged, constantly under watch, and constantly forced to hide their true selves. The unrealistic standards shroud their thoughts and the forced reputation of the family name and honor hinders their every move.

Secrets become the only choice and the dark side of their lives becomes a relief. Their days are filled with nothing but being the “good kid” and the “best role model for all” who pass through the holy doors every Sunday morning.

But…does anyone ever wonder about the preacher’s wife? 

The one who shines above all just for ditching her maiden name for one doused in holy virtue. The one who has no choice but to have a warm and welcoming heart for everyone scattered about the church. The traits of kind and gentle are immediately attached to her name, assuming the same temperate position as the preacher. 

She’s never found too far from her husband either, usually residing at the very front of the pews, hands politely folded atop the plush curve of her tightly pursed thigh. She could be found there every Sunday, even Wednesdays if a bible study was called for. The kind, gentle woman who supports her husband with the occasional glimmering smiles of white and endearing head nods of reassurance. 

All while trying extra hard to keep those pesky rivulets of white seeping through her panties from wandering onto the sacred scene. 

It’s a reality some could never dream of, but one you couldn’t have thought would be shown to you by the town’s very own beloved Nanami Kento. 

Righteous in front of others but salacious when with you—just the traits picked up by his youth. He was once known as the preacher’s kid, quiet and reserved with only a collection of words to say. He only ever did speak when spoken to, could recite ten verses with ease, and was honored as the perfect child. 

Since your younger days as well, you pondered all too aimlessly about Nanami. He was never found with a genuine smile or tone, never was found playing after service with the other children, or even strolling around the neighborhoods with a friend or two.

Pity stained your tongue unwantingly, the urge to help him being repressed by other thoughts. All you could’ve done was pray that he’d be freed of what troublesome chains held onto him, that one day life would hold no limits for him in the days to come. 

Though, such prayers could have never prepared you for today’s realities, Nanami now pursuing priesthood with you as his bride. 

Since taking on the role of wife and finally entering the daily life of Nanami Kento, there were a couple of things to make note of. 

One: he was nothing of what his former timid character made him out to be, now becoming more vocal with his wants and needs. 

Two: as much as he enjoyed a set order and routine, Nanami welcomed life’s spontaneous moments all the same. 

And lastly: his stamina was one for the books.

It’s a blessing to him honestly, being rewarded with a beautiful woman like yourself. Truth be told, he’s had his eye on you since your shared days of youth. If not for the buried confidence and the shielding of negative thoughts, he would have never taken the first step to pursue a relationship with you.

But it was only with you that Nanami found himself reaching deep within to discover who he truly was. 

A man forever indicted in carnal lust.

He knew it from the first date and withdrew from it until your wedding night, wanting to tear and replace every bit of clothing from your body with his own warmth. There wasn’t a night he remembered where he didn’t wish to indulge in you, sending the thick crown of his cock to kiss at your cervix.

There wasn’t a night where Nanami didn’t want to fill your ears with nothing but the sound of him and him only, spilling the slurred speech of how well your pussy could take him. He was driven near mad in all honesty. Restraint was the only thing, wanting to holdfast onto what morals remained. 

Yet, marriage only seemed to bring all this rush of desire and more to light, Nanami now harboring the urge to fill your cunt with the white-hot pools of his cum. It was a rush that he wouldn’t trade for all the money in the world. Just to feel how his tummy would tense, skin running hot with a licking heat, and his mind thrown into complete turmoil—all to hear you squeal at the addictive sensation was all he needed. 

But there came a condition with his sudden obsession; he would only do so on a Sunday—both before and after service. He couldn’t tell you why but he swore it was only on Sundays that he felt heavier, neediest, and too pent up for words.

So, on the days that Sunday did roll around, he’d wake up a whole hour before you did, his eyes cracking at six o’clock sharp. He’ll lay there for a few minutes, heavy lids perched on the sight of you—his sleeping beauty laying without the duvet’s restriction to his eye.

He breathed it all in, from the small pout consuming your lips, the silky cream night slip dress rising with your flooding chest, down to the precious moans mindlessly leaving from you. He often found himself, sneaking a hand behind his briefs to lace around the thick girth of his shaft. A subtle squeeze led to a groan of deliverance he couldn’t afford. 

He picked himself up from beside you, carefully slotting his body between what space was offered by your thighs. The mattress only caved to his body’s contours, sinking especially deep around his perched forearms. His hands cup at your inner thigh, the pulsing pry granting him more room for comfort. 

Nanami knows just how much you look forward to Sundays too, your excitement leading you to take the proactive route. That fact alone is why Nanami’s greeted by the sight of your bare cunt, the pads of his fingers gravitating to the puffy lips. The initial skim of his touch is nothing short of gentle and lingering, minding that he doesn’t slip any further. 

It’s when Nanami’s fingers finally pull apart the lips of your cunt that he falters, allowing a shushed “fuck” to fall from his lips. Even beneath the sun’s latent rays of light, he can see all he needs too—the soft curves of your folds sticky and ridden in slick, the dormant hood of your clit throbbing with the heat of greed.

There’s nothing that really comes to mind when Nanami’s like this, biting back the urge to smother your pussy in his ministrations. But he wants to tease you, bring you to a point just to take it all back. His thumb retires from rest, softly swiping at your clit for his own self-amusement. 

There’s something in it for him, more than his pleasure and more than your orgasm. What Nanami really loved about your pussy was the response, being able to visually watch every single one of his actions settle into your core. Everything he does comes back to him, either in a twitch, a fluttering gasp, or even the uncontrollable spasms of a squirt. 

But for today, all Nanami sought after was for the cute bulb of nerves to kiss at his tongue with a prickling streak of pleasure. He was too quick to remove his essence sullied thumb from you, eyes hinged onto the thinning trail connecting you both. His tongue hurried to replace the fading warmth by pressing against your folds, the delicate sheets parting around him.

What pulls the breathless moan from his chest is you, the rivulets of your taste drizzled all over his tongue. He still can’t believe that a few lazy swirls from his thumb could stir you up like this, enough to get you this wet but still casted away by sleep’s hand.

Either way, a complaint couldn’t have fallen from his lips. Instead, Nanami had a tranquil notion in his mind to take control, his eyes coming to a fluttering shut. It’s why his tongue can drag up to your clit ever so slowly, just to drag down to your slit swiftly.

When he does return to the glimmering bud, it’s nothing but careful nudges. He can feel it too, how your clit begins to harden against him, how the blood all falls to meet his touch. It’s the hot pulses that turn Nanami on all the more, almost as if you’re begging for a break. 

And maybe if he wasn’t so far gone, he’d give you that well-deserved break. Yet, he shines a grin fit for the devil at how generously swollen the tender pearl’s become. It’s a sign of just how close you are and who was he to deny you of any pleasure?

His lips come to a close just above your pussy, sealing off your clit within. Cheeks are hollowed and Nanami can’t control anything else from that point on—not that he really wanted to. It’s out of the kindness of his heart that Nanami’s thumb drifts between your folds once more, grazing along the gummy sheets to soothe over the incoming high. 

Unfortunately, poor Nanami’s so invested in you that he doesn’t notice your hand landing on his head, lithe fingers grappling through the bed of untamed blonde. He doesn’t even notice your hips shuddering from him, trying to pull back from the onslaughts of his worked jaw.

It’s not until Nanami finally decides to greet you that he notices how soaked the bed is underneath you or how his chin faces the same fate. All he does is bring his lips to ghost over the adorably perked hood, ending it all off with a kiss. 

“G’Morning, Sweetheart. Let’s get ready for service, yeah?”

That’s all he leaves you off on, a smug smile and some words before his feet hit the hardwood floor of your bedroom. It’s become normal to him but indescribable for you. As to how he can brush off his lustful whims in an instant fell nothing short of a mystery —considering how the proof laid right before your eyes. Even with disbelief written on your face and a chest desperate for air, you still cared to trudge behind Nanami to start your day.

The clock sits at seven-thirty by the time you and Nanami settle into the car. It’s almost like a clean slate had been taken upon by you both, dressed in the cleanest of attire. His once untamed blonde locks were replaced with his usual style, nothing a pull of a comb couldn’t fix.

A plain navy suit found itself onto Nanami’s body with not a wrinkle in sight. Yet as for you, Nanami really couldn’t keep his eyes off you. In your opinion, it was a lackluster black dress and paired heels that suited anyone at any time. In his opinion, it was everything he lived for. 

When Nanami turns his head to feed his excitement of you, he’s met with the sight he’ll never get over: you with closed eyes, biting down on your finger out of concern. Legs parted just slightly with a small hand tucked beneath your dress. The silent squelches tell Nanami all he needs to know—you were stretching yourself out just for him.  

He gawks at you for just another moment, turning his sights back onto the road in silence. It’s the awkwardness instilled in Nanami that gets him so flustered, a feeling he knows may never overcome.

You being the only other woman in his life weren’t much help either. There are still days when he’ll come to a loss of words, falling into a mindless ramble out of embarrassment. His composure’s lost to the stars and suddenly coherency is out of his reach.

For now, he braces himself for as long as he could, his hand gripping the steering wheel that much tighter until he arrives at the quaint lone-standing building known as the church. But he dare to not stare at the sacred home, his hungered eyes tracing something more interesting. 

A display of mindless behavior really, Nanami’s hand latching onto your wrist. He pulls your hand from between your thighs slowly, fetching the glistening digits to his lips. Of course, he’ll stare right at you as he’s busy cleaning up your mess, his tongue following the glossy strings laid about. It’s only when a simple question rolls from his mouth that you can comprehend his current state of mind. 

“I think we can squeeze a quickie in, what about you?”

You offer him a weak nod before climbing into the backseat, hands tugging at the dress to encircle your waist. Before you could even blink, Nanami’s hovering over you while fidgeting with his belt’s buckle. 

It’s in the heat of a moment like this that you don’t seem to recognize the man you married. You can’t help but form such opinions, asking yourself ridiculous questions without true answers.

Where was the docile boy that existed? Who would only speak when spoken to and stray from any behavior disapproved by his elders? 

Now here he was before you with anticipation heavy on the brain. He isn’t bothered enough to tug at his tie or to unbutton his shirt, opting to slip free from the navy jacket before resting on his haunches. His hands cup the underside of your knees, making it that much easier to press your thighs to your chest.

The pretty swell of your cunt’s lips catches Nanami’s eye, his fingers senselessly drifting against the cloth. He’s so specific to not tear your panties, hooking the soaked inseam to sit along your inner thigh. 

His hand finally slips past his pants to free his cock from the hellish confines, greeting your eye with a dangerous grip. Time was fond of Nanami, ensuring that each second was savored in bliss as he presses the head of his cock to your entrance, the pink crown ripe with the softest of twitches and the thickest of veins just begging for relief.

Elation springs to the forefront of Nanami’s brain, clouding him from the hold of sensibility. His hips almost move for themselves, driving forward in a drunken fury. First, it’s the tip that fills you, barely stretching you for what’s to come. Inch by inch, he’s patiently waiting for the moment where all you know, think, and feel is him.

He loves it truly, watching your eyes widen at the realization, your hands reaching to cover your lips riddled with spit. There’s a certain gasp that takes over your lungs that utterly spoils his ears. Call it a hint of pride, but when that gasp rings from your lips, Nanami can’t help but turn on his ego.

He knows just how deep he was and well he’d fuck that fact out of you, a lesson he swears you seem to forget. But it’s the recoil that drains Nanami for all he’s got, the suffocating clench of your walls pulling such a pretty mewl from his knitted lips. It’s his undoing, pulling from the beckoning thumps of your cervix to press restart on all he’s accomplished for the moment. 

And it’s so unforgiving, the cold etching along his shaft while the head of his cock sits snug with just the slightest peek of pink to meet his eye. His hands search for refuge at the back of your thighs, his nails sinking into the trembling flesh. That same cold is his so-called “excuse” for snapping his hips once more, burying himself in you all over again. 

What follows isn’t simply Nanami rutting himself to absolute filth, of course it isn’t. It’s the insatiable craving pitted at the depths of his tummy, aching for a solution. He’s caught in a blinding lust, unsure of what to chase but knows what the outcome will be. He’s addicted to it, sending his cock so deep inside you, hearing the clashes of skin, down to overseeing you lose all control. 

Sure, there’s a sadistic undertone beneath his amusement but it’s all if nothing but gratitude. He can feel how edged you are, the shivers ripping across your skin, the jolts of your hips when he’s grazing your clit with how close his pelvis was.

He loves watching you lose yourself in it…not to mention in him. Because of that lewd expression of unhinged gratitude is why Nanami can’t help to lean in closer, cutting off the moronic babbles with a kiss. 

Though, just when Nanami thinks he has the upper hand, you always manage the fruit of control right from his hand. The switch in power is so subtle but gradually becomes noticed. By the flutters of your walls, it’s no longer a want to fill you in Nanami’s mind—it’s a need.

That need, or any need really, drives any sane person insane. The urges can no longer be repressed and suddenly it’s itching at their skin, a spot so distant that nothing but the fulfillment of your desires can alieve.

Nanami’s breathing so much harder now to combat his rousing sensations, the head of his cock spry with fizzing nerves. He wants to stop, take a break and cool the rising heat within his body. But when your walls flutter around him again, the quiet and sealed-off mouth of his loses grip and the drivels of pleas fall from his lips all too easily.

But he can’t.

It’s the need that serves a new purpose in Nanami, closing what distance existed to send his cock that much deeper. He’s practically brimming with heat, the veins lining his shaft suffering beneath the exertion of greed. The fat of his cock rests so homely along your walls now that he’s comfortable with letting himself go, his head dropping within the crook of your neck.  He had to make sure every drop would stay, you did have a prayer service to endure, after all.

In his last words, that’s when the hints of dominance seep through. 

“Pretty lil’ pussy’s gonna take everything fr’ me, right?”

Your head unleashes a spool of unhinged nods, serving as enough reason for Nanami. The thick ribbons of white catch onto your womb, drowning you in his scent. It’s so much this time around too, more than the previous Sundays he’d taken to fill you.

The palms of your hands fall over your eyes, using all the latent energy to control the strength of your own orgasm. Your legs trembled from the weight of it alone, triggering tears to crowd at your lash line. Your efforts wouldn’t have been in vain, avoiding all of his hard work to dress his cock in a devastating shade more shameful than white. 

When he manages to catch a breath amidst it all, his eyes dart down to his watch for the time.

8:05 AM.

With mass starting at the sharp time of 8:45, Nanami couldn’t have allowed another minute to pass him by. Not if he wanted his darkest secret displayed for the passing church-goers to see. 

He regretfully drew back from you, tugging your panties back into place. Mentally, he cursed the reality he’d face in a few hours: all of his cum soaked into the cotton. It’d be impossible for you to hold everything, he knew that. Putting his trust in a fading hope, Nanami laid his hand upon you, fingertips drumming a soft rhythm at your lower tummy as he spoke

“Keep it safe for me, Honey. I don’t wanna see a single drop wasted.”

With Nanami’s help, you soon found yourself resting in your usual spot amongst the pews, the first row closest to his reach. Throughout the service, you kept your legs especially tight. You didn’t have to make any eye contact with Nanami to know that his eyes were pinned on you.

He only did ever see you in the crowd, cheering him on with a smile. The pit of his stomach floods with butterflies, fighting a giggle from erupting from his lips.   

After all, with his cum nuzzled oh-so deep inside you, why wouldn’t he?

The holy hour of service concluded just around ten, ending with Nanami and you greeting everyone at the door. The cheerful smiles displayed on your faces are only founded on a facade, the same antics of the morning carrying on. To the people’s eyes, Nanami casually has a hand resting along your lower back, keeping his wife close. 

But you knew what stood behind the act, his fingers slipping warily underneath. He’s playing with the hem of your panties this time, the pads of his digits slinking past the obstruction. He sighs at the results, wet, wet panties.

He brings his lips to your ear, the heat of his breath nipping at the shell. You latch onto his waist, bracing the timid man as his finger finds way to your slit. The explicit words roll off his sullied tongue too fragrantly, leaving you with a fearful reassurance. 

“Aww, I thought it would stay this time. Don’t worry…this time, I’ll keep that pussy extra full next time.”

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[jazzthatonewriterchick]

WIND BREAKERRRRR

👏🏿👍🏿💯🙌🏿🔥♥️

that’s all

I’m behind so bad on this show but PERIOD!!!!

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

de-stress

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

You can see the full images on Patreon 👀

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Double cake 🍰

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

❛ I'LL HYPNOTIZE YOU WITH THIS P*SSY ! ❜

ζ featuring. g. satoru, f. toji, g. suguru, n. kento, k. choso

content warning. explicit content (mdni). pūssydrunk!men. oral (f). face sitting. overstimulation. virgin!choso. cowgirl/lotus. backshots. breath play. brēēding kink. unprotected sex. daddy kink. dom/sub undertones. mirror sex. virgin!reader with suguru (do not lose your virginity like this). corruption kink. afab!reader + feminine descriptions.

ζ rena's note. reupload cuz it got flagged weeks ago and i never noticed :P

gojo ☆ satoru

“could be here for hours—shit baby, y’taste so fuckin’ sweet.”

his praises fall deaf to your ears as your mind blanks, brain melting to mush at the overwhelming sensation of his tongue lapping at your folds. your hands claw at his snowy white tresses, fingers carding through his hair and tugging onto his scalp.

when satoru ate pussy, he put his entire being in it— and it only got worse on the rare occasions you’d do him the favour of sitting on his face. he’d never half ass such an opportunity, long fingers gripping onto your ass tightly and spreading the cheeks apart to flick his tongue between the private spaces.

“talk to me princess, tell me how good it feels.” he pops your clit out of his mouth, warm breath fanning over the bundle of nerves. you jolt from the strange yet pleasurable feeling, muscles tensing and contracting over his face, resulting in your slick to drip down onto his chin, staining his face even more in your arousal. “c’mon, flatter me, pretty baby.”

“f-fuck, toru, don’t stop!” you moan wantonly, fat tears building at your lash line. your thighs press at the side of his head when he hums against your clit, diving deeper into your weeping cunt. he drags an index finger from the crevice of your ass all the way up front to your swollen clit, collecting slick along the way. “‘s great— so fuckin’ good, ngh, please—keep going!”

your stomach tightens when you feel his digit slip into your clenching pussy, plunging knuckle deep.  you can’t help the moan that rips at your throat, toes curling as he immediately aims for the spongy spot that has you seeing stars.

you look down at him and you’ve got the prettiest look on your face— eyes misty with tears, your flushed cheeks stained with fallen tears you couldn’t contain, pouty lips glossy and trembling. draping over your frame is his button up top, unbuttoned all the way down, perky buds from your breast rising up in arousal.

gojo feels his balls tighten at your lewdness alone. he’s so hard it hurts, thighs rubbing one against the other for relief. if you keep digging your nails into his scalp in that painful way you do, rocking your hips into his face and swallowing him whole inside your cunt to use him in order to chase your own pleasure, he’s bound to cum untouched.

only you could pull something like this out of him.

his eyes darken in the way it does whenever he’s particularly on a high about something passionate, and he knows from that pleading look in your blown out pupils that he’s got to make you blackout. not entirely for your own pleasure, but for his own too. there was no better feeling in this world than being sprayed by your essence all in his face, folds gaping and clenching down on his fingers as your clit weeped and released your juices pathetically.

you’re not even sure when it happens but one minute you’re facing the headboard of your bed and the next your head dangles off the edge of the bed, back laid on the mattress with your legs hanging off his broad shoulders.

gojo gives you no time to process the switch in positions as he lays flat on his stomach and latches his kiss bitten lips onto your cunt. he swipes his tongue and eats you out like a mad man— spreading your folds with his hands and fucking into your tight hole with his tongue. your back arches and your hands fly to grip at his head, torn between pushing head head deeper or further away. it’s all too much at once, both pleasurable and overwhelming, your thighs trembling from the sting.

“heh, look at this creamy pussy go,” you hear him whistle in between your thighs, though it comes out muffled. he’s gripping so tightly onto your thighs that you’re sure it’s going to leave bruises, hair cascading his face despite his dark orbs peaking through the bangs. “shit, ‘m gonna keep you with me forever, never letting this pussy go.”

when he flicks his tongue at your swollen clit, your hips rise off from the mattress and you push his head away, the numbing sensation overtaking your limbs and gut tightening in a familiar way. you hear him tut disapprovingly, forcing your hips down and you’re left powerless but to lay there and let this blinding orgasm wash over you.

“‘s too much— oh god, toru, fuck— ‘m cumming, don’t—baby, don’t stop!” you babble, saliva dribbling past your lips. you begin to feel lightheaded from the blood rushing to your brain, and the airy feeling leaves you feeling like you’re floating, one hand leaving his matted hair to grip at your neglected tits, firmly groping the mound.

all it takes is an additional slip of his fingers into your gushing cunt to release its dam, his end goal accomplished as your folds greedily suck him in. your pussy wails and cries onto his face, squirting all over him from his forehead to nose and chin. through it all, your body rakes and shudders, trembles taking over as you cry out his name.

he holds your free hand through it all, pupils dilated as he himself trembles in amusement, thumb brushing the soft skin of your knuckles.

“give it all t’me princess, be the good fuckin’ girl you are and soak me in your essence— needa taste ya, sweetest fuckin’ thing ever, i swear.”

fushiguro ☆ toji

“oh yeahhh, that’s it mama—keep throwin’ it back, shit, gonna breed this greedy pussy full’a cum.”

you respond with an overly eager moan, hips pushing back to slam your ass down to his pelvis. you’re beyond your element—mind both dazed and consumed with alcohol and lust, glossy lips parted as you fog the mirror before you with your warm breath.

you plant the surface of your palms at the mirror, skin moist as you hold onto the glass for stability. standing on the tip of your toes, your calves are put into overtime as you sink down on toji’s dick, your pussy well spent and spread to accommodate to his inhumanely girth. he stretches your folds painfully, but the feeling is one you welcome dearly as his tip kisses areas inside of you that has you thanking him endlessly and going as far to wanting him to fuck you full of his cum.

bent over in a ninety degree, toji grips onto your hair in one tight hold, pulling your head back up. he forces you to stare at the mess he makes out of you, and you watch as your tears leak black from mascara, staining your cheeks dark and saliva dribbles from your lips to your chin. your skin is matted from sweat and other liquids, eyes dazed and unfocused as his balls repeatedly slap at your puffy clit.

“fuckin’ whore— awe, just look at ya,” toji mocks, the hand holding your hips letting go of the flesh and flattens his palm instead to slap at your ass. you moan at the sting, your skin tingling in pain as the skin reddens from the harsh impact.

“think i ain’t notice, doll?” your eyes roll up to watch him, his smirk as prominent as ever through the reflection of the mirror. his own locks are matted to his forehead, and he bares his fangs at you in a smile that sends shivers down your spine. “y’think i don’t feel yer cunt squeezin’ me in? you fuckin’ love it when ‘m mean with you, ‘fess it up mama.”

you chew on your bottom lip, slightly embarrassed by the truth being revealed. you could call him the worst man on the planet, mean and relentless, but at least he knew how to fuck you inside out. you shake your head in denial, but when the hand in your hair snakes to your throat, fingers pressing down on the column of your neck tightly—you moan at the lack of oxygen coursing in your body.

“answer me when i ask you somethin’, basic fuckin’ manners sweetheart.” toji kisses his teeth, pulling your body up by the neck. your sweaty back meets his sweaty chest, and you feel him panting against your temple just as you can see him nuzzle his nose against your hair.

he’s grinding into your cunt in motions that has his cock rubbing at your sensitive spots, his pelvis pressed right up against your ass. you reach your hand behind to grip onto his thigh, squeezing the firm muscle and the other wraps itself around toji’s hold on your neck, as you’re overtaken by the familiar beating of your cunt clenching down on his throbbing dick.

“fuckkk, love it daddy! love it when y’re mean t’me—love it when you fuck me s’good—ngh!” you cry out, tears soaking your cheeks and breast jiggling in rotations built by a rhythm made from the man pounding into you.

“there’s my slutty girl,” you feel his hand pat at your cheek, the sting making you loll your tongue out of the cave of your mouth. he plunges his teeth into the supple flesh of your neck, sucking eagerly as he marks down his territory.

you drive him mad— something about the way you comply to his every desire no matter how you feel about it, just to please him, had his cock twitching in ways it’d never had. your sweet and innocent demeanour completely consumed and taken over by his sinister and malicious ways, moulding your pussy into the shape of his cock so it would only obey to him and him alone.

his green eyes zero into your facial expressions and he can both tell and feel that you’re close, your cunt clamping down on his dick whenever he grinds up against that sweet spot that has your legs quaking and barely able to hold yourself up. naturally he wants to bring you that finish— selfishly, that way you’re stuck on him and obsessed with his dick alone.

he’ll remind you endlessly nobody else could ever make you feel this good, just as nobody else could ever have him deliriously possessive the way you do.

“‘m gonna fuck this slutty pussy so good, nobody will ever come close to fuckin’ you dumb— shit, might fuck around and fill my pretty pussy full of my cum.”

geto ☆ suguru

“shit baby—‘m gonna need you to relax f’me—fuck, loosen up—we gotta make it fit, right?”

you’re barely half way sunken down on his dick, the stretch painful enough as your arms are thrown around his broad shoulders for stability. it hurts in a way that makes you either want to get it over with and fully slam yourself down on the rest of the inches or completely take off, but the gentle thudding of geto’s finger tips at the base of your back has you rethink your decisions.

geto’s aware that the size of his dick isn’t the most accommodating for beginners, much less virgins. but you’d been so eager to take care of him and willing to give yourself to him, to want him to deflower you, take your innocence and purity and keep it in his possession— there was no way he would refuse you of anything.

“ngh, sugu— fuck, it hurts!” you squeal, thighs aching from the awkward angle. he’s holding your body entirely from your ass alone, gently playing with the soft flesh in attempts to distract you from the excruciating pain.

he places kisses at your cheek, nuzzling into your smooth skin with a sympathetic sigh, “mhm, i know baby, i know.” his whispers fall short into your ears, noticing the goosebumps on your skin trailing. “just a few more inches, kay? you’re so close—y’got this mama.”

you’re so adorable, he thinks, as simple words are enough for you to nod, wiping your tears away with the back of your hand. you sit up straight, nose grazing over his, and he leans forward to kiss your lips. you’re so distracted by the sweetness of his lips onto yours, tongue slipping in between your swollen lips that you fail to notice you’ve officially bottomed out.

geto eases your body down onto the rest of his cock, and groans when you clamp tightly onto his dick. you’re so tight he feels like he’s being suffocated, and even with all the prepping and squirting from prior, you still hadn’t been entirely ready to take him in.

though, the hard part is over, as you cry out into his mouth— fresh tears now staining your pretty cheeks and rolling onto geto’s face as well. he almost feels bad, but there were many layers to him— and he was extremely turned on by yours tears. knowing you were in a state of painful pleasure that brought you to tears, lashes thick and wet as you wailed and seeker comfort from him despite him being the reason you’re crying—

it has his balls ache terribly.

“there we go princess, just like that.” geto encourages you, one arm wrapped behind your back and the other holding onto your hips firmly. the back of your heels dig at his lower back, your chest pressing against his. “you’re taking me so well, shit, you feel so fuckin’ good.”

he takes note of the thin veil of dark red that coats the perimeter of his dick, realizing he’s finally popped your cherry— and he isn’t sure he can put into words the weird feeling that has him smirk ferociously in a primitive way. shamefully, he’s filled with pride that he’d been your very first time and disgustingly enough, he slips his hand between both your bodies, collects the evidence of your purity now taken away, before rubbing the liquid onto your neglected clit.

“forgive me, princess.” he mumbles into your ear, a gentle kiss pressed to the shell of your ear in major contrast to the sudden pain throbbing in your core at the newfound position.

you then understand by his relentless thrusts, your legs now draped over his shoulders as his hips meet the back of your thighs in rhythmic slaps, that he had been asking for your forgiveness because he wouldn’t be able to hold back any further.

“promise it’ll stop hurting soon—fuck, you wanna hold out for me, baby?” he never stops his thrusts, interlocking both your fingers together before pressing them above your head. his eyes stare deep into your soul, and behind those purple orbs you see your reflection intertwined with a mischievous glint. and when you nod your head, he tilts his own, “use your words, love.”

“y-yes suguru—want you to fuck me! i’ll hold out for as long as you n-need me to! i promise!” you roll your hips up to match the pace he has set. he rises his body up and slams down into your cunt, and you greedily accept him, muscles relaxing into the pain that slowly dissipates into pleasure.

you’d never felt anything like it before, but the way geto repeatedly fucked into you, his dick dragging against your walls and coming out slicker than the last time he plunged inside made the room stink of sex and echo with sinful squelches. his cock rubs at your virgin walls, spreading you open as you helplessly lay and take everything he has to offer you.

your toes curl at the sides of his head and your back arches— you’re effortlessly gorgeous when you’re milking his dick dry for what he’s worth, greedy pussy sucking him in so well, you could’ve easily fooled him into thinking you’d been experienced in this domain.

when he hangs his head low to watch how his dick enter and disappear inside the void of your tight cunt, he notices the bulge in your tummy. he can’t help the grumble that leaves his chest, ultimately obsessed by the pudge that forms at your pussy simply because you allowed him the honour to properly make love to you.

“whew, ‘s that me in there baby? shit— y’re driving me insane, ‘m gonna make you cum real hard, you’ll be cryin’ and beggin’ for more— oh yeah, you like that?”

nanami ☆ kento

“need you to hold still for me, sweetheart—shit, let me finish you up nice and good like you deserve, hm?”

nights like these, there were no logical reasoning as to whatever urge to passionately make love to you, to devour you whole and to make you crumble beneath him. anything could fuel the sudden want to strip you naked, body to soul, to sink his cock deep inside the cave of your warmth and have you come undone for him alone.

nanami loved it whenever you presented yourself so submissively to him, so obeying and willing to comply to his word. you were his wife, and he was truly and utterly obsessed with your entire being. to him, there was no prettier sight than your pussy dribbling slick from its puffy folds, clenching around air as it desperately calls out his name.

you laid on your knees with your cheek pressed into the mattress of your shared bed, hands bind and tied behind the back of your thighs by his infamous tie. you were restrained, most sacred parts of your body open for his accessibility alone. your entire body shivered, coming down from the high that nanami’s tongue brought to you, lapping at your folds and puckered hole, fingers pumping with precision into your cunt.

“kento, ngh, i need you, can’t wait any longer— please!” you squirm as much as your restricted form allows you to, wiggling your ass side to side as if to sway him to your desires.

you had to know there wasn’t anything you could ask him that he wouldn’t give you. begging was so below you, as his partner— there was nothing you needed to beg him for. he supposes he’s at fault for making you wait as long as he did, and he’s got no choice but to correct his mistake, to make you forgive his bad actions.

“stay still love, ‘m gonna fuck you real good now— don’t you worry, pretty girl.” he presses his kisses from the bottom of your back, the mounds of your ass, and makes his way up your spine, trailing his kisses to the column of your neck.

he revels in the way you shiver uncontrollably, your frame fragile and petite in comparaison to his larger one. you smell a scent too divine—an aura so sweet, so honeyed and so unmistakably you.

he collects your slick with two fingers, dragging the pad of his fingers at your weeping cunt, before coating his own raging hard on in your essence. he’d been so needy for you, mind clouded in trances of your body, that you hadn’t even needed to focus any attention on his dick for it to get to this point of arousal. bringing you to a state of blinding pleasure was enough of a stimulus to get him ready to go.

grabbing the base of his dick, he lines himself up at your entrance, dragging his mushroom tip up and down your folds. you whine and beg him to to push up inside, to fill you up to the brim, so full that all you can think about is the pattern of veins on the underside of his cock brushing at your golden spot.

when nanami finally does bottom out, you both release moans that sync in a melodious tune, the harmony of both your bodies and soul merging into one clouding his mind with primitive lust. he starts off slow, pushing in and out of your cunt, hissing at your tightness despite having fingered you open not too long ago.

“‘m losing my mind baby,” nanami breathes out, hands gripped tight at your hips. he quickens his pace, balls slapping at your clit in patterns as your body jerks forward. “your pussy feels heavenly—shit, so warm and tight and all mine.”

“yes sir, it’s all yours— always have been, always will be k-kento!” you whine, the surface below you dampened from your tears and drool. you catch his gaze from your angle, your lashes fluttering prettily as you wordless encourage him further.

he reads you like a book, he reads your soul and knows you better than he knows anybody. and so, he pistons his cock in your eager entrance, thrusts long and deep as your pussy grips onto his shaft greedily. you moan, toes curling as your fingers reach for him despite not being able to due to the cloth restraining you. your back arches and the shift in angles has his tip immediately locating your sweet spot.

“oh f-fuck!” you wail, body shuddering as you’re overwhelmed by an intense pleasure. you feel nanami’s hands trail over your skin, down your back, caressing your ass, the back of your thighs. “hah, right there sir— please don’t stop, hngh, ‘m gonna cum!”

and of course nanami knows this, already a step ahead of you as he leans forward, arms holding him up at the side of your shoulders. he puts a hand between your thighs and through the loop of his tie to focus his attention on your neglect clit, drawing figure eight patterns on the bundle of nerves.

you keep sucking him in, and he must be growing old the way it’s becoming so much easier to draw him to the finish line. nanami knows better— it’s the entirety of you, from the way you sound when you whine and beg him for relief, to the way your body reacts so fluidly with his, the way your eyes linger a moment longer on his own. he’s head over heels in love with your entire being, and it’s no shocker that when you cry out his name and soak both of your thighs in your sweet honey, that he himself feels his balls empty into your womb.

“shittt—there we go my love, take all of my cum like the perfect wife you are, mmh, just like that—my pretty little thing.”

kamo ☆ choso

“oh f-fuck, ‘m so sorry princess, it just— shit, it feels so fuckin’ good—need some more!”

load after load, your boyfriend shoots his cum inside your cunt without warning, hips stuttering and rutting into your sucking void. it doesn’t bother you as much as he thinks it does, though you are concerned that he’s going to fuck himself into a blackout with how eager he is to bring you to the finish line.

porn had nothing on real sex, choso concluded when he finally sunk his full length into your cunt and immediately came. there’d been no movement or warning, but as soon as his balls met the lips of your pussy, you moaned at the hot rush of cum spurting inside of you.

he’d been so winded, his fingernails left moon crescents into your flesh as he emptied out his first load of semen into your womb. he shivered and whined, your name rolling off his tongue in a desperate plea as his premature ejaculation washed over his body in waves.

by the time he’d come down from his orgasm, you’d caressed his cheek and pushed his hair away from his face, kissed him and told him this sort of thing happened often. he was still a bit embarrassed by the disaster but the gentle look of honesty in your eyes and your pretty smile had reassured him rather quickly— and also got him hard again.

“take your time baby, ‘m not goin’ anywhere.” you nod your head while giggling, sprawling your body down to your mattress. choso sits on the back of his feet and pulls his dick out, hissing as your pussy grips onto him despite his protest to slip out. eventually he pulls out and he’s enamoured by the way his seed spills out of your pretty hole, liquid filthily staining the sheets beneath you both.

you lick the tip of your index and middle finger, coating the digits in your saliva before slipping them in the space between both your bodies. you keep firm eye contact with your boyfriend as he watches you with hearts in his eyes, your other hand trailing up your chest to tweak at the buds of your hardened nipples.

you collect his creamy cum from your cunt, bringing it back up to your plump lips and licking your fingers clean. you moan at the taste of him, so overwhelming and strong but undoubtedly him.

“cho, baby, you taste fuckin’ so good,” you plop your fingers out of your mouth, and smile in faux innocence. he’s quiet and gulping in anticipation, dick twitching at the entrance of your folds. he’s already dribbling more pre come, tip of his shady sticky and ready to dive into your gaping pussy, aiming to please you more and more, until you yourself feel as good as you were able to make him feel just now.

and so, pushing himself on his knees, he begins his rutting yet again, grabbing the base of his cock and lining himself at your puffy lips. he grabs your hips firmly and lifts you off the bed as he bottoms out, your ass falling onto his lap and fucks into you desperately. his thrusts come out sharp and harsh, penetrating so deep inside your pussy and rubbing at areas that had your vision go unfocused.

“oh fuck, b-baby, shit— oh my fuckin’— you feel so good, y’re killing me here!” choso throws his head back, sweat dripping down from his matted hair to his bare chest. his stomach contracts and he pants heavily, his hold on your hips tight. he’s fucking into you as if you were a fleshlight— a mere toy he’s discovered that he isn’t willing to stop playing with.

it doesn’t bother you the second time he cums inside your pussy and apologizes, it doesn’t the second and it doesn’t during the third time either. at every orgasm he’s taken over by, you feel yourself drawing towards the end of the finish line, that high so near that when it’s taken away from you suddenly, it’s annoyingly great.

he’s unintentionally edging you, and despite your whines and pleas, fingers messily rubbing at your clit in attempts to draw some kind of blinding conclusion, he cums yet again, filling you to the brim.

“fuckkkk, hah, ‘m so sorry baby— promise i’ll get it right this time, ngh, gimme another c-chance!”

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

LONG FIC FAN-WRITERS*

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[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Heeyyy my first time requesting I read all your works I just wanna say it’s absolutely Amazing 🤩 but I’m here to request hawks x chubby black reader (if you don’t write for him I’m so sorry 😞)

Hopefully you can make it like “smile for the camera” except hawks is like “😳” when he first meets the reader but reader doesn’t like the way he’s staring at her and thinks he’s judging her (but really he’s not he just luvs the reader)

I’ll let you do the rest yourself

Again if you don’t write for hawks then it’s fine ignore the request😁

Stay safe,drink water,and luv yourself😘

I gotchu! Thank you so much for the love 🫶🏾🫶🏾

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Biker Choso

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

I’ve got some pretty ass mutuals on here. Like GYAT 😳😳🫠🫠😍😍

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Hit ‘Em Up! (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Cowboy!Gojo Satoru x Cowboy!Geto Suguru x Black!Cowgirl!Reader (Slow Burn/Enemies to Lovers)

Synopsis: You get to meet Geto & Gojo the Gunslingers, the notorious outlaws that have every town and law enforcement in a twist, when your bum-ass BF offers you as payment to avoid going to prison. Little do they know that this is only a part of your plan to get what you desire. But when you realize that the infamous gun-slinging, smooth-talking cowboys could be everything you want and more when they offer you a deal to team up with them, will you successfully be able to go through with it? 

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINOS GTFO); poly!SatouSugu; Reader is Black & Fem; Mention of other JJK characters; Porn with Plot; Tragic Backstories; T/W for Childhood Trauma, Parental Death, Violence, Panic Attacks & Torture; Angst/Hurt/Comfort; Hand Kink; Masturbation; Voyeurism; Gay Sex; Polyamorous; Double Deepthroat; Mutual Oral; Fingering; CMNF; Spitroast; Riding; Unprotected PiV Sex; Creampies; Outside/Public Sex; Shotgunning; Multiple Positions; Spit Kink; Facials; MDom/fsub Undertones; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: Heeeeey, y'all!! I'm so, so, so excited to introduce this new story to everybody! I've been having a (horny) cowboy fixation for THE LONGEST time now after seeing a fanart of cowboy!Geto by the amazingly talented @sanjisblackasswife. Please go support a fellow black woman & go check out her work! I hope y'all enjoy the first two chapters! -Jazz

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen PT I & PT II. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Epilogue. Soundtrack.

********

SIX: FOR A SINNER’S EARS ONLY.

You awaken the next morning to the sun barely peeking over the horizon, just as Geto instructed you to do. 

It feels good to sleep in a comfy bed for once, especially after you made sure you patted it down with the bug powder you packed. You sit up in the bed, slightly clammy from the heat of the hot, dry air creeping into the motel room. It is quiet and relaxingly so. For once, you feel good despite the circumstances. 

You still can’t believe Geto and Gojo decided to pay for a room for you. They walked you to your room right next to theirs after getting a key from the lobby. “Just remember to get up before the sun rises,” Geto gently said, mostly to keep his voice down in the motel hallway. “It will take about five days to get on the Devil’s Trail since it’s outside the West. That works out well for us since we have a list of baddies to catch on our way there.” 

“And most of them are Benji’s accomplices,” Gojo stated as he handed you the key to your room. “Which means we’ll probably find him too if we play our cards right.”

You looked down at the key, clutching it. “You know, y’all didn’t have to get me a room.” You couldn’t help but be suspicious of this. Why were they being so kind? Were they tricking you in some way? 

‘Or maybe they’re just nice guys, you crazy girl,’ you thought. 

Gojo raised an eyebrow at you. “Well, where else were you gonna sleep? With us?” A smirk appeared on his face. “‘Cause if you want to–” 

You cut him off by moving to unlock the door, purposely stepping on his toe as you do. “Fuckin’ pervert,” you muttered under your breath as the motel door opened. It was identical to the duo’s though empty and clean. 

“Ignore him,” Geto chuckled while Gojo complained about you breaking his big toe. Just get some sleep and yell if you need anything. These walls are paper thin, so we’ll hear you.” He gave you a kind, warm smile, leaving you to your privacy. “Sweet dreams, Y/N.” 

Gojo gave you a wink as he held the doorknob, nodding at the bed. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite,” he teased. He then closed the door, still behind it. “I’m serious!” he called. “You might wanna lay down a towel or somethin'!” And then you were finally left alone to take a hot shower and get ready for bed. 

You lay here now, thinking to yourself how fast everything is happening. You still can’t believe you’re here with the most notorious outlaws in the West, about to go on a long journey with them that could either go really good or really bad. You think of Shoko, wondering if she read your letter. Is she looking for you? Does she miss you? And what about the others at the saloon? Are they okay? Are they safe? 

You suddenly hear a tiny chuckle from behind your headboard where a wall separates your bedroom from the duo’s. Gojo’s voice drifts through the wall, sugary sweet and seductive: “Sugu~” 

“What?” Geto sighs, sounding exhausted. There is a rustling sound like bedsheets shifting. “C’mon, Satoru, not now. I have to clean up before we leave.” The bedsprings creak as someone sits up––probably Geto. 

“Can I clean up with you?” Gojo purrs. “C’mon, I can help you clean all of those spots ya can’t each.” Then you hear it: a deep, soft moan that makes your face grow hot and your mouth part in shock. Are they…? 

Another one of Geto’s velvety moans makes it very clear that they’re not cuddling over there. “Shit,” he sighs. “C’mon now, stop it. I’m serious, you slut.” Gojo giggles–giggles–as he continues to do whatever he’s doing. “Oooh, I love it when you call me that, almost as much as you loving it when I call you my cock whore.” 

Your jaw goes slack. Are they that slutty? “No, I don’t,” Geto growls. “I’m not about to do this while Y/N is in the other room. These walls are thin as ice!” His words are cut off by another series of quiet moans and hums of pleasure. “The water will be on, so she won’t hear,” Gojo assures him. “And even if she does, I think she’d enjoy it. Especially when she hears how hot your moans are.” 

You would never admit it, even to yourself, but the sounds of Geto’s moans are getting you hot. They are so smooth yet syrupy; deep yet soft. Seductive. Sexy. They make your body tingle, especially one body part in particular. You can feel your pussy throb annoyingly so from beneath the sheets like it has a heartbeat. 

You can’t remember the last time a man-made you this aroused. Even the ones at the Blackwater saloon barely got you wet. And sex with Valentine was never a fun time. He did nothing to turn you on despite his pretty face. There was barely even a wiggle down there for you. But now? Now, you feel like you need a release or you’ll go insane. 

“Let’s get in the shower, baby,” Gojo seductively says. “We have no time to waste, remember?” And so they do. You hear the bedsprings as they get up from bed and their footsteps as they walk to the bathroom on the left side of their bed but still behind your bedroom wall. You can hear the rustling of their clothes as they strip; their breathless giggles and the soft, wet sounds of their lips meeting each other’s. 

Their soft moans and hums of ecstasy mingled with the sound of pounding water light your body on fire. You find yourself squirming uncomfortably in your bed, especially when Geto begins to moan. You begin to feel a tingle from down below that only grows the louder Geto’s velvety moans become. “Fuck, ‘Tarou,” he sighs. “You’re so fuckin’ good at that.” 

Your hand slides down your stomach to wedge between your thighs. You know that this is wrong. You know that you’ll regret this later, but fuck, they sound too hot to resist. And it’s only natural, right? You just need some release. They’ll never know. So you begin to slowly rub your tingling, needy clit in time with Geto’s deep moans and swears. 

It doesn’t take a village idiot to figure out what Gojo is doing, but when you hear the soft, sucking sounds and the sloppy noises of his tongue swirling around Geto’s dick, you get your answer. “Yeah?” he chuckles. “You wanna give me a reward, Sugu?” 

You hear more lewd sounds that take you to unholy places and bring colorful visuals to your head: Gojo on his knees gagging on dick with Geto’s hands in his wet, white hair, his hips bumping into Gojo’s mouth as he fucks his pretty face. “Just make sure you keep it down,” Geto instructs. “You don’t wanna wake the whole hallway, do you?” 

Gojo giggles and there is only the sound of water until both men moan in unison. The sound nearly makes you gasp, your back arching as your fingers work faster on your now slippery clit.

“Oh, fuck!” Gojo moans. His language has become nothing but slutty moans and whimpers while Geto lets out soft grunts and gasps. “Soon as I’m inside you, you’re singin’ like a little songbird,” Geto chuckles. “What am I gonna do with you, Satoru, huh?” 

You close your eyes, picturing the long-haired outlaw pressing Gojo against the wall, grinding his hips into the white-haired outlaw from behind. You see Geto’s cock, long, thick, and gorgeous, sliding in and out of Gojo’s taught and firm yet soft asscheeks, stretching out his hole. 

“Sugu, please,” Gojo begs. “Don’t stop! Keep goin’ just like that!” 

“Just like what?” Geto teases. “Like…this?” He must do something with his hips or his cock because Gojo is moaning uncontrollably, slutty gasps and whines leaving his pink lips. The sound of wet, slapping, of skin against skin, emits from the wall. “C’mon, babe, shhh,” Geto shushes him. “You’ve gotta keep it down.” 

But Gojo is too far gone just as you are as you rub your pussy in time to Geto’s thrusts. “C-Can’t help it!” he stutteringly, pathetically says. “You’re fuckin’ me too good!” 

“Cover that slutty mouth then,” Geto demands in a voice that has your clit throbbing increasingly so. “Yes, that’s it, my love. Let’s see how quiet you can be filled with all this dick.” 

You imagine him saying the same thing to you, his cock stretching you out while Gojo tweaks your hardened nipples that one of your hands has begun to do for you. Briefly, you imagine yourself sandwiched between them, nothing but stolen kisses and breaths between you. You can almost feel their muscles and warm skin under your hands. You can almost taste them on your tongue. 

As their moans and the lewd slapping grows louder, your hand grows a mind of its own and works your clit faster, harder, wanting to peak with them. You picture yourself doing the same thing while Geto fucks you from behind while Gojo fucks your throat, both cocks filling you up the way you want to be. The way you need to be. 

“Fuck, Sugu, I’m gonna cum!” Gojo warns, high-pitched and needy. Geto responds with a grunt, loud and so unlike him, that nearly sends you over the edge. “Me too,” he growls. “Cum with me, ‘Tarou, c’mon. Don’t you wanna be my good boy?” 

‘Do you wanna be my good girl, Y/N?’ he asks in your head. ‘Don’t you wanna be our good girl?’ You want to say yes. You’ll do absolutely anything to feel like this all of time, even be theirs. 

“Cumming!” Gojo suddenly gasps. “I’m cummin’, Suguru, fuck!” ‘Me too,’ you think. ‘I’m cummin’ too!’ And you do. As a series of slutty, loud moans and groans of release drift through your wall and into your bedroom, you let out a whimper and cum all over yourself. For a moment, you’re soaring through the clouds, covering your mouth to muffle your moans as Geto and Gojo cum together. 

Then as soon as it happens, it’s over. The sounds die down and the pleasure fades, leaving you feeling icky and your fingers coated in your cum. You can’t believe you just did that. 

You can’t think about it for long though because three loud, terrifying knocks on the duo’s motel door next to yours nearly make you jump out of bed. “Oh, shit!” Gojo gasps. “What the fuck was that?” 

You think the same thing before you hear the knocks again. “You sure this is the door, sir?” a rough-sounding voice asks. 

“Yes!” a high-pitched voice replies. The shower immediately shuts off and the pitter-patter of feet stomping around behind your wall makes you jump out of bed and grab your clothes set out for today. “Th-This is the front desk clerk with security!” the same man calls through the door. “We know you’re in there, gunslingers! You’re not gonna get away with not paying for these rooms! That’s a crime!” 

‘What the fuck?!’ you think. ‘Those mother–’ 

Four more demanding knocks silence your thoughts and make you hurry to get dressed. “Gunslingers!” the guard barks. “Either come to the door and surrender to us now or we’ll break down this goddamn door and take you into custody. Don’t think we won’t do it!” 

You toss on your clothes, pull on your riding boots, and tie your bandana around your mouth. You begin to look around for an escape route as the knocks become more agitated. The door is out of the question, so you look at the window which is about twelve feet above ground. 

‘I’ve gotta get out of here,’ you panickingly think as you hurry to the window, only to see Gojo already there and waving at you from outside. He is fully dressed with his hat, gloves, and blinfold on as if nothing happened before. You throw open the window, allowing him to climb inside with ease. “Hi there, little miss,” he greets you, tipping his hat. “You’re up early.” 

“You bastard!” you hiss, wanting to punch him. “You ain’t pay for the rooms?!” 

“Well…not exactly,” he sheepishly confesses. “We paid for half for this one, but inflation is a bitch and these rooms are expensive! I ended up havin’ to steal away one of the keys to this room while the clerk wasn’t around. Can ya blame a guy for tryin’ to help?” He shrugs, giving you an apologetic smile. 

You want to cuss him out, but before you can, another bang on the door next to yours stops you. “Open the fuck up!” the guard yells. “You’ve got ten seconds to come out or we’re breakin’ down the door!” 

“Get me out of here,” you demand, glowering at Gojo. He only gives you a tiresome look as he snatches the drapes off of your window. “That’s what I’m here for,” he scoffs. “Just get your things together and follow my head. Geto is roundin’ up the horses. By the way, is that black one with the braided mane yours? She’s such a pretty thing!” 

You could’ve kicked him out the window, but instead, you hurry about and gather your shit. Luckily, your bag is already packed with toiletries and everything else you’ll need on your journey, so you toss it onto your body and put on your cowgirl hat. The sound of a large bang from the next door makes you gasp in fear. “Gojo!” you snap. “Hurry!” 

Gojo is currently tying the drapes together into a makeshift rope, taking his sweet time doing so. 

“Alright, alright,” he sighs. “And…finished!” 

He then tosses the rope outside the window, tying the end to the leg of a chair. Next, he climbs out onto the ledge, grasping the rope. “Stick your feet out first and grab hold,” he instructs you. “All you have to do is climb down. Don’t worry; I’ll meetcha at the bottom and catch ya if you fall. See ya at the bottom!” 

“Wait!” you hiss, but he’s already inching down the makeshift rope. You watch him as he climbs down the rope with ease and precision, his upper strength doing all the work until he finally meets the ground. Obviously, he’s done this many times before, but you haven’t. Even just looking down makes you want to throw up. 

You grip the window ledge, suddenly dizzy. ‘I can’t do this,’ you think, the words repeating like a mantra. ‘I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t–’ 

BANG! The door to the motel room next to yours busts open and the sound of stomping footsteps makes you jump out of your skin. “They ain’t in here!” one of the guards angrily growls. More footsteps, this time out in the hallway. “Try the other one,” the clerk says. “I know someone is in there!” 

When you hear them at the door, now you know you have no choice. You look down again, finding Gojo standing there with his arms waiting for you and a smile on his face. You don’t think––you just do. 

You turn around, put your hat between your teeth, and stick your legs out the window first before grasping onto the rope and gently, carefully, edging yourself down. The wind hits your face, the sun warm against your cheek. Its warm rays and the promise of the ground below are the only things that keep you from looking down. 

“You’ve got it, little miss!” Gojo calls up to you. “Keep goin’!” His words help somewhat though the feeling of your feet dangling in midair and the burn of your arms are all starting to get to you. You’re about halfway down the rope when you hear the sound of a bang and the guards and the clerk now in your room: “Where are they?!” the guard demands. 

“The window!” the clerk shouts. “Hurry before they get away!” Fear leaps into your heart and before you can rethink your decision, you release the rope and leave it all up to God. You feel nothing but the wind in your hands, slipping through your fingertips, as you soar through the air. 

You expect to feel the hard ground below, but you don’t. Instead, you feel muscular arms and a solid chest. You look up into the blindfold and smile of Gojo. “Told ya I’d catch ya,” he chuckles. For a moment, you feel secure and safe in his arms, hating that you do. 

Luckily, the moment is ruined when Geto comes running up with your horses and the guards come to the window. “There they are!” he shouts, pointing down at you. “Shoot ‘em!” The glint of the sun off of metal frightens you even before you realize that his partner has a pistol. 

The first bullet zips past you and Gojo, scaring the horses. You begin to squirm in Gojo’s arms, enough for him to put you on your horse himself before jumping on his own. 

“Hurry!” you yelp, snapping your horse’s reins. “Let’s get the fuck outta here!” The second and third bullets hit the dirt as you three begin riding like hell away from the motel, your horses’ hooves thudding against the dirt. 

“Don’t come back here ever again!” the clerk yells at you. “You hear me?! I’ll make sure you’re all behind bars if I see you again!��� 

‘Don’t worry,’ you think. ‘You won’t.’ 

******** 

When you’re finally out of Blackwater, you feel like you can finally breathe and relax.

The shops, homes, and all signs of civilian life have since disappeared, replaced with a dusty trail, trees, and mountains dusted with snow in the distance. Blackwater is but a blip in your memory, nothing but nature there now as you travel alongside the gunslinging duo. You feel Reneigh’s body move underneath you as she slowly walks up the road, the sun’s rays turning her black hair golden. 

You sense a presence beside you and turn, finding Geto riding his horse with one hand. You try not to think about how good he and Gojo look on top of their horses. “Sorry about earlier,” he says, actually sounding guilty about it. “I would’ve preferred us to be gone earlier than we did to avoid that, but I ran into some…complications.” He coughs into his gloved hand. 

‘Yeah, I know,’ you bitterly think, but then feel a pang of guilt due to the fact that you willingly flicked your bean and came to the sound of these “complications”.

You still feel weird and guilty like you invaded on something you shouldn’t have. But then again, they’d have to have known you’d hear them since the walls were so thin…did they want you to hear them? 

“Long as we’re alive and not behind bars, I’m good,” you sigh, looking away from Geto. “Thanks though. So where to first?”  You hear the sound of him unraveling something and look back to see him taking a map out of his pocket. 

“Bull’s Creek, which is only five miles from here,” he answers, reading the map. “We’ve got a gang of wanted outlaws to catch that are residin’ there who robbed a town in another county. A woman there wrote to ask us for help because apparently, these four are terrorizin’ their town too.” 

Gojo hums in acknowledgment from in front of you, a weed in his mouth. “Not only that, but these four are old accomplices of Benji’s that we worked with: Zankoku, Makima Murakami, Angelface, and Arata Katana. We plan on shakin’ ‘em down and askin’ either one of them where Benji is without resorting to too much violence.” 

Geto rolls his brown eyes from beneath his hat. “Too much violence,” he parrots. Gojo looks back at him with a smirk. “Excludin’ killin’!” he cackles, wagging a finger at him. “If we wanna stay outta prison.” 

“Sounds good to me,” you reply, and it does. Anything to get your hands on your target. A peaceful silence falls over you three as you totter up the road, the breeze cool and sweet. Suddenly, Gojo speaks: “Y/N, where are you from? You’ve got a distinct accent on ya that I’m just now noticin’.” 

You wonder why the fuck he cares, but curiosity couldn’t have killed the cat that badly. “The South,” you vaguely reply. “Born an’ raised.” The white-haired gunslinger looks back at you in awe. “Really?!” he excitedly asks. “I’ve got friends from the South! What town ya from?!” 

“Why?” you ask, more harshly than you intended. The silence becomes awkward almost immediately. “C’mon, Gojo, don’t make her feel weird,” Geto calmly criticizes his partner and gives you an apologetic smile to ease the tension. “I think he’s just tryin’ to make conversation. It makes these long travels easier.” 

You don’t know why, but you feel guilty about being so harsh. You don’t like being asked about your past. It’s just too painful. But if they can tell you about your past, you can at least answer Gojo about where you’re from. “Pinewood,” you answer. “It’s a small town in the Southwest county.” Gojo hums thoughtfully, not missing a beat. “Hm…haven’t been there before.” 

‘And you never will,’ you think. 

“So how did y’all meet?” you curiously ask, quickly changing the subject. “I mean, since we makin’ conversation or whatever.” 

The duo share a smile you can’t decipher as they look at each other. “We were childhood friends,” Geto explains. “We both lived in a small town with about a couple hundred people. One day, we were playin’ by the lake after a bad rainstorm and I slipped on the mud by the bankside. I nearly drowned that day, but Gojo saved my life. That day was it was for us: we fell in love instantly.” 

Even as cold as you are, you feel yourself thaw at such a cute story. It’s like a fairytale romance for them.

“But we didn’t start dating until we were older,” he continues. “As kids, we both had tragedies we helped each other deal with. Gojo’s mother died in childbirth and his father was pretty much absent. And I came from a family of alcoholics who never accepted me. So we became each other’s family.” 

Gojo looks back at you, the weed still in his mouth. “Didn’t think two of the most notorious gunslingers in the West had tragic backstories, huh?” he sarcastically asks. “It’s a damn cliche.” 

You don’t say anything, letting their stories and honesty wash over you. 

“So what about you?” Geto asks. “What’s your story? You got anyone waitin’ for you back at home?” 

“Like a lover?” Gojo adds. “He or she is a lucky bastard…or bitch.” Geto shoots him a sharp look.

“Shut up,” you mutter. “And no. I ain’t never been with nobody before…well, nothing that was real anyways.” All the “lovers” you’ve had were either hook-ups or false relationships on your part, like yours with Valentine. 

“So you’ve never been in love?” Geto asks, and he sounds almost saddened by this prospect. That irks you and you don’t know why it does. How is it that two of the most notorious and dangerous gunslingers managed to find love in such a harsh world and you haven’t? Maybe you’re just meant to be alone. 

So you give them both the realest answer you can as you stare ahead at the rocky road: “Love ain’t never done nothin’ but get me in trouble and cause me pain.” 

And just like that, the conversation ends.

#black fanfic writer #smutty smut #my works #black coded reader #my fic shit #black writers #jjk smut #cowboy gojo #cowboy geto #satosugu #satoru gojo x black!reader #suguru geto x black!reader #cowboy!au #cowboy!geto #cowboy!gojo #poly smut #poly love

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Hit ‘Em Up! (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Cowboy!Gojo Satoru x Cowboy!Geto Suguru x Black!Cowgirl!Reader (Slow Burn/Enemies to Lovers)

Synopsis: You get to meet Geto & Gojo the Gunslingers, the notorious outlaws that have every town and law enforcement in a twist, when your bum-ass BF offers you as payment to avoid going to prison. Little do they know that this is only a part of your plan to get what you desire. But when you realize that the infamous gun-slinging, smooth-talking cowboys could be everything you want and more when they offer you a deal to team up with them, will you successfully be able to go through with it? 

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINOS GTFO); poly!SatouSugu; Reader is Black & Fem; Mention of other JJK characters; Porn with Plot; Tragic Backstories; T/W for Childhood Trauma, Parental Death, Violence, Panic Attacks & Torture; Angst/Hurt/Comfort; Hand Kink; Masturbation; Voyeurism; Gay Sex; Polyamorous; Double Deepthroat; Mutual Oral; Fingering; CMNF; Spitroast; Riding; Unprotected PiV Sex; Creampies; Outside/Public Sex; Shotgunning; Multiple Positions; Spit Kink; Facials; MDom/fsub Undertones; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: Once again, thank y'all so, so, so much for the continued love & support! Just an update for everybody: I'll be going back to school in about 3 weeks so updates might slow down, BUT I will continue to upload when I'm free & have some time. Thank you again! And happy 4/20!! -xoxo, Jazz

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen PT I & PT II. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Epilogue. Soundtrack.

********

FIVE: NO TELL MOTEL.

“My, your such a good little cocksucker, aren’t you, sugar?” 

Gojo’s silky voice forming those dirty, nasty words only makes you suck on his thick, hard, beautiful cock a little more eagerly than before. He kneels in front of you, his hips and toned stomach in your face, letting you freely drag your hands over his six pack much to his enjoyment. 

He watches you with those alluring blue eyes as you gag all over his shaft and bounce on Geto’s dick at the same time. “And a good little cowgirl too,” the long-haired outlaw chuckles, soft moans and gasps leaving his lips as your warm, soft, velvety walls squeeze around him whenever you slam your pussy and soft, cushiony ass down onto him. “I should’ve known you’d be good at ridin’ dick too, little lady.” 

SMACK!

His hand comes down to slap your ass, emitting a muffled moan from around Gojo’s cock. The white-haired outlaw groans, gripping the back of your hair and pushing himself deeper into your mouth. “Fuck, you’re so fuckin’ sexy,” he moans. “You seem to be missin’ somethin’ though…I’ve got it!” 

He takes off his cowboy hat and puts it on your head, making Geto laugh as he begins to pump his hips up into you from below, fucking you back. “She looks so adorable,” he groans. “Just seein’ her like this makes me wanna cum.” 

Gojo hums in agreement, thrusting into your mouth in time with his partner’s dick pumping in and out, in and out, of your pussy, sinking you deeper and deeper into immense pleasure. “Me too,” he says and lifts your chin up to look at him and the way the moonlight illuminates his hair, turning it silver. “And you’ll cum with us, won’t you, cutie?” 

“Be as loud as you want, darlin,’” Geto moans, gripping your hips for dear life. “There ain’t nobody to hear you for miles. Just us and the stars.”

Hearing that and knowing the fact that it’s just you three alone among the moon, the stars, and the quiet forest makes me you want to cum. You can feel your orgasm quickly approaching the louder Geto and Gojo’s moans become and the more Geto’s dick glides against your G-spot. 

“Fuck!” Geto gasps. “I think our little cowgirl is close, Satoru. That sweet little pussy is squeezin’ around me so tight!” 

Gojo stares down at you adoringly and hungrily, slamming his hips into you​​r mouth. “Cum with us, darlin,” he demands. “Don’t let us do it alone. Give us what we want like a good little slut, hm?” 

Suddenly, the two begin to moan louder and warn you that they’re about to cum, using your holes to chase their highs. You can feel yourself being pushed closer, closer to the edge of bliss, about to fall off with them– 

With a gasp, you sit up in your bed adjacent to Shoko who has her back to you and is snoring so loud that it overshadows the buzzing of cicadas outside your window. You are coated in sweat, a normal occurrence for summers in the West, but you know that it has everything you do with your dream. 

“What the fuck?” you think, confused and flushed…and extremely bothered. Your pussy throbs annoyingly beneath your silk nightgown, even more so without your panties. It’s too hot for undies. 

You’ve never had a dream like that before about anyone, especially two outlaws that you were supposed to merk earlier!

The only dreams you have are about your childhood, your mother, and the night both were taken from you. They don’t happen every night, but they are the only dreams you have. You don’t have happy dreams and can barely have a good night’s sleep without your mind going a hundred miles an hour. 

But something about this dream, something about this duo, brings something out of you. A need to throw all caution to the wind. You don’t want to think that it’s because of your attraction to them. You tell yourself that it’s nothing; just a biological need as humans have. The dream meant nothing but to show you what you could be missing…right? 

You look at Shoko, thinking about her words of wisdom to you earlier. Could she be right? Could these men be the ones to help you reach that happy ending? ‘Only one way to find out,’ you think. 

You roll out of bed and, keeping your footfalls quiet, you begin to pack up. You pack some dried snacks, a canteen of water, and a clean pair of clothes in your bag before changing out of your sweat-soaked nightgown and into some clean, black riding gear. You then bend down in your closet to retrieve a dusty box hidden behind Shoko’s shoes and a key hidden beneath them. 

You unlock the box and smile at the contents inside of it: a silky, pink bandana and a black cowgirl hat. You take out each and put them on, already feeling more like yourself. Like the Fatale Femme. After you finally finish, you take a piece of paper with an ink pen and quickly scrawl out a note to a sleeping Shoko before leaving: 

Dear, Shoko, 

I’m so sorry I’m leaving you like this and that it took this happening to tell you the truth. I’ve been wandering the wild West for years, hunting down outlaws and running from the law as a living.

I came to Blackwater to not only kill Valentine but to find Gojo & Geto the Gunslingers and get some answers for my plan to kill Benji the Bandi. I have been hiding my true identity from you in fear of bringing trouble to your door. 

I care for you and those at the Blackwater saloon so much which is why I must leave. Please don’t try to look for me. If I’m alive, I will write and even visit (eventually).

Thank you for the friendship you’ve given me. Take care of yourself and don’t stay in Blackwater forever. The ain’t nothing here for you either. 

Sincerely, Y/N aka the Fatale Femme.

You leave the note by her beside. Then, in a flash, you take your bag and head out the door. The complex is dark and quiet when you leave, making it easy o slip ou ino he nigh. Behind the complex, tied up to one of the lamp posts, is your precious black horse who has been loyally and patiently waiting here at her post for five months since you came to Blackwater on her back. 

You’ve been leaving her here, only releasing her o ake he on lae nigh walks and feeding her apples and oas. Bu now, you’re ready to leave and so is she. Her ears twitch at the sound of you boots thudding in the dit and he tail begins to wag excitedly, knowing it’s you. You press a hand to her side and stroke her soft fur. 

“Hey, Reneigh,” you coo to her. “You ready to go, darlin’?” You take her reigns out of your bag and clip them on her before getting her saddle from behind a tree. As you place it on her back, she huffs, steam coming out of her nostrils. “You’re right,” you giggle. “I should’ve left this dumbass town a long time ago.” 

You kiss her snout, thanking her for waiting, before hopping ono her back after lacing one leg over her side. Once you’re on, you cluck your tongue against the roof of your mouh and snap the reigns once. Reneigh understands immediately and takes off down the road, he hooves clicking against the road. You guide her in the direction of the Maplewood Motel, knowing where it is due to the brothel you used to occupy at being two blocks up from it. 

‘1211 at the Corner of Maplewood, Rm 201,’ you think, keeping the numbers in you head even when you finally make it to the small, quiet motel. Not a peson no animal stis when you leave Reneigh outside in an empty cubby where other horses have their own. “I’ll be back,” you tell her, earning a headbutt from her in response. 

“You’d better,” she wordlessly says. 

You keep your gun a your hip as you walk ino he moel, past the sleeping desk clerk, and then up the steps to the second floor. You ignore your pounding heart as you walk to room 201 and give three knocks. “Comin’!” a silky voice calls out. Gojo Satoru. 

When he opens the door, he is only in his trousers and riding gloves, exposing his toned body and abs to you. That damn dream comes back to haunt you and you attempt give him a poker face despite your mind’s eye being filled with images of his naked body and cock. 

You’re so entranced by his body that you almost miss his eyes. You’ve never seen them before since he’s always wearing that blindfold. They are a gorgeous, hypnotizing blue, as blue as the crystal waters in the Bahamian islands. They widen an inch at sigh of you at his door. “Well,” he begins, “this is definitely a pleasant surprise.” 

“Who’s at the door, Satoru?” Geto calls from inside, sounding suspicious. He comes to the door too, luckily not shirtless but still looking hot in his cotton shirt and riding gloves, his long hair pulled back into a silky, glossy ponytail. “Oh, hey,” he greets, sounding shocked to see you. “So you kept the note.” 

“I did,” you reply rather sharply, you pulse jumping anxiously. “‘Cause I need some answers. Before I agree to this, I’ll need some information first.” The duo looks at each other as if asking one another if they should agree. 

“Anybody follow you?” Gojo asks, looking up and down the hallway. You shake you head and he opens the door ajar for you. “Come on in, then.” 

You do so, not thanking him, but he doesn’t mind. When the door shuts, you take a look around the motel: it is rather spacious and clean with a small kitchen, a wooden table sitting near the window overlooking the horses outside, brown, shaggy floors, and a big king-sized bed matching the beige walls. The duo has made their home in this room, two backpacks, clean clothes, and shoes lying about the bed and floor. 

Gojo follows you into the motel, clapping his hands together once. “First thing’s first: ya want some dinner?”

You blink at him, wondering if he’s serious. Wordlessly, you shake your head and he rolls his eyes at you. “What, you don’t want some good food before you start interrogatin’ us?” he chuckles. “We’ve got somethin’ cookin’ up over here.” 

He nods at Geto in the kitchen, cooking something savory-smelling on the small stove. His hulking frame blocks it from view, but it makes your stomach growl. Gojo nods at the wooden table and the chairs there. “Go on, take a seat and get comfy. I’ll take your bag and get you some water.” 

He goes to take your bag from you, but you grip it to your chest. “My bag is good here,” you argue. “And I don’t need anything, thanks.” Your stomach exposes you by gurgling loudly, making you flush. 

“Uh-uh,” he sniggers before he walks off to get you that water and a plate. The duo leaves you to sit alone to sit as they fix you something to eat and drink, much to your surprise. You didn’t think outlaws could be such gentlemen…unless something’s up. 

Minutes later, after listening to Geto hum a tune and Gojo crack jokes while he tosses on a shirt, your dinner is finally presented to you: a plate of Salisbury steak oozing with gravy, roasted potatoes, and green beans. “Here ya are, little miss. Made by yours truly.” Gojo gives a charming smile as he places a glass of water in font of you. 

“He’s lying!” Geto calls from the kitchen. Gojo puts a finger to his lips, winking.

You stare suspiciously down at the delicious-smelling food and gingerly take your fork to stab into the smallest tater. Gojo watches you weirdly as you sniff the potato and then place it in your mouth, slowly chewing it. “Had to check if it was poisonous,” you explain with a shrug. 

The white-haired outlaw looks hilariously offended by that. “Why would we do somethin’ so fucked?” he scoffs. “Jesus, girl, you are so paranoid!” You glare up at him, swallowing the potato. “With the work I do, you have to be.” 

Geto walks over with two more plates and glasses of water, placing them on the table. “I agree, especially in the state this world is in.” He sits down across from you along with Gojo, folding his hands under his chin. “Hope you don’t mind, but I’d like the say grace first.” 

Gojo dramatically groans, but bows his head anyway. Geto does the same while you keep your eyes open, watching them. “Dear Lord, thank you for allowing us another day to consume such a delicious meal with good company,” Geto prays. “Please give us more of these fine days with your blessing. Amen.” He lifts his head with a content, satisfied smile. It makes your stomach flip for some odd reason. 

“Ugh, finally,” Gojo sighs. “I’m fuckin’ starved!” He goes to finally dig into his food, but then stops and instead raises his glass of water. “Cheers to new friends,” he chirps and then frowns when he sees your face. “Acquaintances then. C’mon, you’ve gotta toast to that one!” 

Though you’d rather not, you did agree to be here. So begrudgingly, you raise your glass and so does Geto. “Cheers,” he chuckles and you clink glasses. “Enjoy, little miss.”

And you do though you don't tell him and your poker face is A1. However, the steak is savory and juicy, the potatoes are crispy on the outside and tender on the inside, and the beans are salted to perfection. If Geto wasn’t an outlaw, he’d be a great cook. 

Though the food is good, your impatience gets the best of you the longer dinner goes on and you can’t enjoy it without your stomach roiling for answers. “Sooo do y’all wanna start talkin’ or should I?” you ask, rather impatient. The men look up at you, still eating. Insead of looking shocked, they look amused. “Well, if you insist on givin’ us the floor,” Gojo chuckles. “Whatcha wanna know?” 

You swallow some wae to give you some courage, wishing it was liquor. “Just out of curiosity, as well-known as y’all are, why’d you decide to work with Benji and Valentine?” you ask, getting straight to the point. 

Geto is happy to enlighten you as he sips on his water while Gojo finishes chomping on his steak like a wild pig. “When we met Benji, we were young and dirt poor, robbin’ anybody just to eat. One day, we robbed a banquet of rich folks not knowin’ that they were Benji’s people. He beat us to a pulp and had his crew tie us to railroad racks.” 

You nearly choke on your piece of steak. Geto shrugs like it’s nothing. “However, he gave us a proposition: he could either kill us or we work for him and pay off our ‘debt’ to him. As two teens with nothin’ to lose, how could we say no?” 

“We worked for him for two years, helpin’ him rob banks, beat people up who owed him money, etc, etc,” Gojo adds, “but we never killed no one. That was somethin’ we fused to do…until we had to.” His ocean-blue eyes look down at his water, fiaxating on it. You have a feeling that this is a hurt piece for them, especially when Geto gets up to clean his and Gojo’s empty plates. 

You watch him walk to the kitchen in silence, his big boots thudding across the floor. He turns on the sink and begins to soak the dishes in hot water.

“We were in Bull’s Creek chasin’ down a guy that owed Benji money for savin’ his farm,” he explains as the water runs. “He had moved himself and his family into hidin’, but we found ‘em and dragged them all outside, hogtied…includin’ the kids.” 

You bite back a gasp, a vision of your small town popping into your head the night your life changed: burning homes and businesses; kids crying for their parents in the street; families beaten in front of their children; your mother’s arms stretched out to you as her neck bursts with blood. 

You swallow hard, not sure if you want him to continue, but you listen anyway. “We thought Benji just wanted the husband, but imagine our shock to find out he wanted everyone,” Geto continues as he scrubs one of the plates with a sponge. “Told Gojo and me to put a bullet in all of ‘em, make sure that thee we no survivors that could place his face. In reality, I think he just wanted to test us.” 

“And ‘cause he’s a sick motherfucker that gets off on the death of innocents,” Gojo adds. He sounds nonchalant, but you can tell he’s angered by how hard he grips his glass. “We didn’t do it, so he forced us to watch his minions do it. They left their bodies to bake in the sun, not even givin’ the kids a grave.” 

You’re silent, processing the awful yet confusing information. Could they really be different from the outlaws like Benji, Valentine, and the ones that destroyed your home? Could these two really have morals? 

Geto finally stops cleaning and comes back over to the table. “After we realized how crazy Benji was, we left and haven’t seen him since,” he explains as he sits. “That’s when we made our business targetin’ the baddies across the West and made a name for ourselves. People started comin’ to us for help.”

That explains why so many corrupt people were showing up in the papers, dead. Maybe…just maybe…they could be different. 

“So what about Valentine?” you ask, pushing your plate aside. “How’d you meet him?” 

Geto leans back in his chair, crossing his leg over the other. “A year ago, he came to us askin’ us for help to get some trafficked money off of a Cherrywood train that was stolen from his land.” 

“Such a big, fat fuckin’ lie,” Gojo sighs disappointedly, shaking his head. “But because we were stupid, we said yeah and he agreed to cut us half of the money if we helped him. We teamed up with his crew with no problem, not realizin’ that we had been set up from the jump.” 

He then pulls a cigarette and a matchbox out of his pocket. Before he lights it, his blue eyes tick to yours expectantly. "You don't mind?" he asks and you shake your head, so he strikes a match, lights his cig up, and takes a puff. Geto walks over and Gojo passes him the cigarette which he gladly takes a drag of.

When Geto speaks again, you see the entire scene flash in your head down to the last gruesome detail: “As soon as we got on that train, he took everyone hostage, includin’ the conductor. We tried to stop him, but he and his guys massacred every person on that train and then escaped before the train went off the rails. It crashed, but we survived and woke up in a cell.” 

He pauses, taking a sip of his water. With Valentine MIA, we were forced to do some time before the sheriff cut us a deal: if we help bag Valentine and keep up good behavior aka no killing, we stay out of prison.”

He shrugs passively. “Seemed easy enough, so we took it and now, here we are with you.” He gives you a smile as does Gojo, warm and friendly despite the horrible, complicated story they told you about Benji’s sadistic ways and being framed by Valentine. 

You look between the two of them, even more confused than before. Their smiles fade as they read your expression, probably thinking the worst. You put your hands on the table and interlace them as you lean in toward them. “You barely know me and you’re tellin’ me this,” you point out. “Why?” 

The two share a glance, probably not expecting this question. But Geto answers you regardless: “Because we want you to make this decision. We want your help, Y/N, but we won’t force you. If you want to walk out that door, you can.” He juts his chin at the motel door, your exit from this conversation AND possible agreement. 

But something, whether it be their honesty or the way they look at you with such genuine warmth, keeps you there. You look down at your hands. They are shaking. 

“You wanna know why I want Benji?” you ask, not waiting for a yes. “While it may be a stretch, I believe takin’ him out would let every other fucker on this God-forsaken planet know that their sins and crimes will not go unpunished. It would scare them to know that such a powerful man like Benji the Bandit was taken out by someone, let alone a woman.” 

You raise your head to look at Geto and Gojo again, still seeing those genuine, soft gazes. 

“I’ll help y’all,” you firmly say, “but on one condition: y’all help me get out of the county and to Willow Springs.” 

Gojo raises an eyebrow, confused and curious. “What’s in Willow Springs exactly?” he asks. 

You nearly smile at his question, picturing the beautiful town located in the North already. “Freedom,” you answer. “A life without constant runnin’ and dodgin’ the law. A quiet life out of the West…but the only way there is through the Devil’s Trail.”

Aka the hardest, roughest trail in the West. It is known for its treacherous heat, barren, dry lands, and predators lurking around every rock and cactus. There is no way you could ever survive on your own. 

You look at Geto, crossing your arms over your bosom. “I thought about what you said: if Valentine does talk, I’ll need the protection, especially on Devil’s Trail. When we catch Benji, you’ll take me to Willow Springs. Then we’ll part ways, forget this ever happened, and live happily ever after.” 

You stick your hand out to them, wordlessly asking for a deal. The two share a glance before they each smile. “You’ve got a deal then, little lady,” Geto says before he shakes your hand.

Gojo does the same and you ignore the tiny spark of electricity you feel zip up your arm when you hold each of their leather-covered palms. 

“Now let’s get some sleep,” Gojo announces, looking pleased. We’ll need all the rest we can get ‘cause tomorrow will be a long day.” He nods at you, smiling. “But first, you need a room.”

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