Right Where You Want Me - Part 1
Right Where You Want Me - Part 1
Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Female Reader
Requested: No
Word Count: 3328 Words
Warnings: Minor Violence, Smut (Vaginal Sex, Unprotected Sex, Bondage, Biting), Swearing
Summary: After weeks of trying to track Scarecrow, you finally corner him in an abandoned building. Alone, waiting for the police to come, with an unmasked Scarecrow tied up on the floor, your urges get the better of you
Author's Note: So this is new for me. This is the first character outside of PB that I've written for on this blog. I've decided to start taking requests for non Peaky characters that are played by members of the Peaky cast to expand my horizons, and to just give me more characters to work with. Honestly I haven't seen a lot of movies/shows that each actor has done but I've seen a few Cillian Murphy roles. At some point I'll make a list of things I've seen the others in and link it on my pinned post for everyone to see. Obviously this hasn't been requested but I've hit a real bump in the road with requests right now. I hope I can do all of them and I promise I'm not going to just delete everything in my inbox, so if you've sent a request then I will get to it eventually. Anyway, in regards to the actual story, the Reader is a vigilante but I haven't mentioned any powers, abilities, hero name, etc. I wanted to keep it vague because I'm not sure what the Reader will be capable of yet. I usually do a little moodboard for the story with a picture of the person and the title and all that crap, but for non Peaky characters I'm just gonna use a gif of them. I like to use specific colours that I associate with each Peaky character but I tend to pick the same dark colours for a lot of them so if I added even more characters then I'd honestly run out of shades. There will also more parts of this, so look out for those as well!
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9 weeks. 9 fucking weeks you've been tracking down Jonathan Crane. When he managed to escape from Arkham only a week after he was thrown in there, Batman was already too busy with some clown to bother chasing him. He also claimed that you are fully capable of taking down the masked man on your own, and tonight seems to be the night you can finally show him that he's right.
Running through the decrepit building, you take down Crane's thugs as fast as you can, trying not to lose sight of the man as he runs up the stairs. He's managed to escape out fire exits before, and you're determined to not let that happen again. You're lucky none of his henchmen have any of his Fear Toxin on them, otherwise you'd have to waste time keeping your distance to make sure they can't spray you with it.
Once you've knocked out the last one, the sound of a door shutting on the floor above you alerts you to Crane's whereabouts. Grabbing the phone of the unconscious man at your feet, you sprint up the stairwell, pushing through the door you heard Scarecrow go through. At the end of a long hallway, you see yet another door closing, and a hand pulling it closed through the small window that runs from the top of the door to the bottom. You take off, pushing yourself to run even faster than before, slamming the door open and spotting Crane running down yet another hallway.
When he hears the door open, he pauses and looks back at you, his eyes that are visible through his mask just momentarily catch yours, and that falter is enough for you to finally catch up. Seeing you take off running towards him snaps him out of his gaze. He turns and reaches for the nearest door, but as he passes through it, you're right behind him. With a harsh shove, you knock him into the white brick wall across from the doorway, causing a groan to escape him as he slides down to the floor.
Your lungs are burning from the running and fighting, but you don't have time to stop yet. Removing a length of skinny black rope, given to you by Batman, from your belt, you approach the crumpled Scarecrow, who sits up straight against the wall, rolling his neck to relieve any pain. As much as you'd like to do this quickly, you don't want to get sprayed with his Fear Toxin, so instead you move slowly, studying him for any canisters of the vile creation. You're surprised to find none of it on his person, but that makes you sure that he has some up his sleeve.
Knowing it won't be easy to check without getting sprayed at all, you grab the arm closest to you and push the sleeve up, checking for any tubes or containers, but find nothing. You drop his arm, and then realise how close you are to the masked man, crouched in front of him as he watches you. You rip the mask off his head then, and are met with gleaming blue eyes, and a lazy smirk.
"There's nothing up my sleeve, miss. I wouldn't spray a pretty thing like you with my toxin." You fight the urge to roll your eyes at him, but don't reply, grabbing the other arm to check up that sleeve too. He's told you the truth, surprisingly. There's nothing dangerous to find up there.
Once you deem yourself safe from his tricks, you pull him forward roughly and begin tying him up, keeping his arms pinned behind him and his hands tied against his back. You make sure the rope is tight around his body, but not so much that it cuts off his circulation. A part of you wonders why he's being so cooperative, but you're too glad to care. Finally, you've caught him.
"It seems like I'm not the first man you've tied up," he pulls at his restraints, but there's barely any give. You scoff.
"Shut up, Crane."
Pushing him back, so he's resting against the wall again, you retrieve the phone you picked up from Crane's henchman that you dropped beside you when you pulled out the rope. You dial the familiar number in and listen to it ring. All it takes is 3 rings for the person to pick up.
"This is Gordon."
"I've got the Scarecrow in an abandoned building in the Narrows. The one closest to the bridge," you tell him in your fake voice. It's the one you put on whenever you speak to someone while hiding behind your vigilante mask.
"We'll be there soon," Gordon replies, "stay with him. There's a traffic jam outside the station."
You resist the urge to sigh, and agree. Once you hang up, you notice that the ex psychiatrist is still staring at you with that damn smirk.
"Now you're talking to other men in front of me?" He asks, coyly, "there's no need to make me jealous, you've got me right where you want me."
"Shut. Up." You repeat through gritted teeth. The man has always had a way of pushing your buttons, but he was once a psychiatrist, so it's no surprise that he's so good at reading you. It's why you also suspect that he's caught onto the way a part of you feels about him, hence the extra flirting tonight.
Most of the nights you two speak, he always has something to say like this. About you two always bumping into each other, or how much attention you give him. It infuriates the logical part of you, but the emotional part is what makes your stomach flutter at his words, and at times, also makes your body heat up with lust. You hate it, you hate him, and yet you're undeniably attracted to him. You don't know if it's because of his handsome face, or his intelligence, or maybe you're attracted to the darkness within him. Why else would you run around the streets at night if you weren't at least a little interested in the dark side of humanity?
"What's going on in that pretty head of yours?" The doctor's voice pulls you out of your thoughts, and you're actually thankful that he's spoken this time. You've learned over the last few weeks that trying to figure out why he has such an effect on you leads you nowhere, as you can't pinpoint what it is about him that does it.
"None of your business, Crane." You may be thankful, but that doesn't mean you're going to show it.
"But I'm a psychiatrist," he reminds you, "and you look troubled. Something you want to get off your chest?"
"Just shut up until the police get here-"
"-But I'm worried about you," he cuts you off, "I can't have Gotham's vigilante sweetheart struggling with her thoughts."
"I'm not struggling with my-"
"-Denial isn't the way to handle it. You're just causing yourself more stress in the long run."
"I'm not stressed-"
"-Then why are you pacing?"
"Will you shut up?!" With all the interruptions, you didn't notice that what he said was true. You have in fact been pacing back and forth in front of him. You stop dead in your tracks, and crouch down to his height, getting right in his face. His smirk softens to a smile, and he looks almost adoringly at you, but you know that's just your imagination.
"Finally," he mutters, "I've got you right where I want you."
A flash of fear runs through you as the possibility of you not spotting a canister of Fear Toxin in his possession crosses your mind, but before you can move away from him, Crane pushes himself forward, and his lips smash against yours.
The kiss is rough, for lack of a better word. Your teeth gnash together, your hands pull his hair, and grab his chin, putting you in control of the kiss that you shouldn't want. But God, now that it's happening, nothing short of lack of oxygen will pull you away from this man. You tug his chocolate locks back, making him groan against your lips. The vibrations from the sound travel right down to your core, awakening a longing in you for some friction.
Before you can think of anything to do about the feeling, however, your lungs burn for air, and reluctantly you pull back, panting. The doctor also pants, looking at you with dazed eyes and parted lips. He looks shocked, as if he wasn't the one who initiated the wild kiss. You breathe deeply together, heads still close and breath mingling between you. It's the only noise in the room, until the fuckers' lips twist into a smile, and he speaks again.
"Well, that calmed you down in one way."
"Is there any way to shut you up?" You snap, your grip on his hair tightening. He winces, but the smile quickly returns.
"You just learned the best way to do it," he quips, infuriating you even more, and yet, your heart rate quickens, and you swing a leg over his lap so that instead of crouching beside him, you're now straddling him, knees resting either side of his thighs. His smile widens, to the point where he's beaming at you, but you press your lips to his again before you can see the look of happiness in his eyes. Your hands grasp the collar of his jacket, pulling him flush against your body as you bite his bottom lip teasingly, then harshly, until he grunts, and you taste blood on your lips.
You pull away to assess the damage you've done to him, and what you see has your core growing wet. His lips are puffy, covered in saliva, and the bottom one has small puncture wounds from your teeth. It bleeds lightly, but the small bit that is there is what turns you on. You choose to ignore how fucked up that must make you, instead shuffling back on his thighs to give your hands enough space to undo the zip on his trousers, fingers brushing against his covered erection lightly, making him groan. When it's down, you don't bother trying to pull his trousers to his thighs, instead you reach into his boxers, feeling his member for the first time.
He's already half hard from your recent actions, and when the tips of your fingers run along the length and wrap around it, he is soon fully erect in your hand. His lips part in a long sigh, and his eyes close as he drinks in the pleasure you give him when you begin rubbing his cock slowly.
"Fuck," he moans, breathlessly, "don’t stop." You're more than happy to keep going. In fact, you even speed up and twist your hand, swipe your thumb over the head, trying all sorts just to see how he reacts to everything you do. Each new trick draws out a louder moan, and your needy cunt practically drips at the sounds. You have to fight with yourself to not start grinding against his thighs, telling yourself that the only pleasure you want from him right now is a quick fuck.
When you start to feel truly desperate, though, Crane starts trying to buck into your hand, and his noises grow more frequent. You know you've got him close to the edge, and that's when you pull your hand away. He almost whines, but a groan slips out instead, and he opens his crystal blue eyes to glare at you playfully, though the calmness in them tells you that he expected that.
"I see you can be cruel when you want to be," Crane remarks.
"Actually, I thought you'd be more interested in what I'm offering you," you quip, and before he can say anything else, you stand up. You're thankful that your vigilante costume is separated between the pants and the top, meaning you don't have to get completely naked for this, you simply need to pull your pants and underwear down far enough for them to not get in the way. Jonathan watches you push them down to your ankles, and you shake off the giddy feeling that pops up at the realisation that this is the first time he's seen your pussy, or any part of you really. This isn't a love making session with a significant other, this is a quickie with a criminal you've spent weeks trying to capture. There's no need for you to complicate the situation even further with your silly emotions.
Once you're uncovered, you sink back down on top of Crane's lap, this time not so far away. Now your chest is brushing against his, but you're still not touching in the way you desperately want to. One look into his eyes shows a hint of smugness, but it's overtaken by need; a need for what you're going to do next.
With the knowledge that he also wants to take this further, you finally feel able to raise yourself up on your knees, with one hand guiding him to your entrance, and sink onto him. A harmony of moans escape the two of you as you take in his whole length, until you're sitting in his lap almost the exact way you were before. He's longer than you expected, and you feel breathless over how far his length is inside you. Because of his size, you have to take a few moments to sit there and adjust. Jonathan, for a man who just had an orgasm ripped away from him, is incredibly patient in letting you take your time and sit there. He watches you carefully, and yet nothing about the stare is unnerving. Instead, it feels reassuring, like he's telling you to take your time and proceed however you like. You might be looking into it too much, but you're appreciative nonetheless.
After a while, you no longer feel uncomfortable with him inside you. Instead, you're overcome with desire, and you lift yourself until only his tip is still inside you, and then quickly sink back down onto him. You bounce up and down on his cock, establishing a quick and rough pace that Crane seems to enjoy, based on the moans that slip through his lips. Trying your best not to show how much you're enjoying this, how much you've craved this for so long, you only allow yourself to breathe heavily and grunt quietly.
As if he too wishes to remain quiet, Crane buries his head in your neck, and when he begins to suck on the hollow of your throat, your rhythm falls apart as a needy whine escapes you. His lips are soft against your skin, as is his tongue. He gently kisses and sucks, but just as you get used to the tender touch, he bites down hard, causing you to cry out in pain, but also pleasure. He pulls back soon after, giving you hope that not much damage has been done, but you know the blood on his lips isn't from the bite you gave him.
"Fucker!" You curse. The mark is above the collar of your top, and it's likely that only a turtleneck will cover it.
"Payback," is his reply, a cheeky grin lighting up his features. You huff and roll your eyes as if you're frustrated, but your walls clench around him at the thought of wearing his mark on your skin for everyone to see. You may just be the worst vigilante in Gotham for this.
Regaining your rhythm, you grind up and down on his cock. This time you make no effort to stay quiet, your moans mixing with those of the man below you. Your thighs begin to burn from the exertion, and with his hands tied behind his back, you can't rely on Crane to help you by holding your waist for support. Instead, you place both of your hands on his shoulders, using them to keep yourself steady and balanced.
Through half lidded eyes, Jonathan watches you ride him. He tries to buck his hips up into you, but unfortunately with how he's tied up, that makes it difficult for him to do. So he chooses to observe you: how your mouth falls open, how your eyes glaze over as your orgasm draws closer and closer. Normally, when the doctor watches you so intently, you're cautious, but right now, as you feel yourself falling apart, knowing that his eyes are on you brings you even closer to the brink.
When you know you're nearly there, one hand leaves his shoulder and reaches down to rub your clit as your hips move faster and faster. Rubbing fast circles against the bundle of nerves, you're soon cumming with a half scream, half moan. You can barely keep moving as you ride Crane through your orgasm. The sensation of your core squeezing his cock is what pushes him over the edge after you. Jonathan cums with a guttural groan, bucking his hips into your pelvis once, twice, a third time, while spilling his seed inside you.
As you come down from what is easily one of the best orgasms you've ever had, your head droops forward, your forehead landing on his shoulder. You shouldn't be holding onto him like this, even after the act you've just committed. A quick mistake made due to overflowing lust and sexual tension is one thing, but post sex cuddling is another. And yet, you can't bring yourself to pull away as you pant into the fabric of his jacket. What makes it even worse is when his cheek rests on top of your head, making the situation feel intimate, as if you two are lovers instead of enemies. He still can't move his hands, but you wonder if he would wrap his arms around you if he could.
Approaching sirens is what breaks the peaceful and confusing moment. Your panting stops, and you tense up, but you don't want to move yet. You raise your head to look Jonathan in the eye, but no words are spoken. When you hear voices downstairs, you know you have to move. No one can know that this happened.
As you let go of Crane's shoulder, though, the man suddenly leans forward, and presses his mouth to yours in a shockingly tender kiss. His lips part yours gently, and though you kiss back, you wait for the sting of his teeth on your bottom lip, but it never comes. He nibbles it instead, pulling it back and letting it snap into place playfully. God, you want the kiss to last forever, but the voices draw closer as the GCPD arrests more of Crane's men. You pull away reluctantly, greeted by his soft smile and pleased look.
You want to go back for more, or even just stay in his lap, but instead, you tuck his member back into his boxers and zip up his trousers, making him look presentable, since he can't do it himself. Then, you push yourself to stand and fix your clothing. Pulling out your grapple gun, also given to you by Batman, you approach an open window. You find yourself looking back at Jonathan one more time as footsteps approach the door. He wears the same smile and his eyes hold the same look. You almost smile back, just as softly, until he speaks again.
"Don't worry. We'll see each other again very soon, Y/N."
Your blood runs cold. How does he know your name? What else does he know? But you can't ask him anything, as the voices and footsteps become louder, clearer. Pulling the trigger that shoots out the wire, the hook lodges itself into the ledge of a nearby building, and just as the door opens, you jump, leaving behind a strangely happy ex psychiatrist and several pleased police officers.
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Arthur Pendragon - The Seven Deadly Sins: Four Knights of the Apocalypse - Episode 8
𖤐 — nsfw, breeding kink, unprotected sex, creampie, vaginal sex, unsafe sex, belly bulge, choso w a breeding kink>>>
“Gonna give you all my babies,” Choso mutters, jolting your body with every deep thrust he continues to push into you, and you feel yourself clench at his sudden confession, growing wetter by the second.
“Yeah?” You slur, “you wanna fuck a baby into me?”
His hips shutter slightly, groaning at your dirty words, his sudden slip-up leaving his mind just as fast as he noticed it. Choso’s warm hand slowly snakes up to your stomach, stopping just below your belly button, to softly push down on the slight bulge of his cock deep within you, making you cry out at the sudden pressure.
“Right here,” he nearly whimpers, “gonna give you a baby right here.”
He’s tracing the outline of his cock through the skin of your tummy, pressing down just at the right moments, making you cry out at the pressure. You can barely breathe right, as unbearable heat rises in your stomach, pussy clenching around him even tighter, wanting nothing more than for Choso to keep good on his promises.
“Please,” you mewl, “please cum inside me.”
His hand grows harsher on your hip at the dirty words you’re spilling, and he doesn’t even bother pulling out…
I mean why would he?
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Once again JJK nation, I am asking for your assistance in finding a post. I can’t remember which site it was on but it was a Sukuna x reader where you are his wife in the Heian era. One of your servants falls in love with you and Sukuna doesn’t let him live but he shields your eyes from the carnage 😭. If y’all find it please let me know it’s living in my mind rent free.
If not, anyone got recommendations for Heian era Sukuna x spouse reader? I am astronomically down bad.
fly on the wall sukuna x f!reader x gojo
synopsis: when your best friend leaves you alone at a party, someone else decides to take his spot
content warning: mdni, DUBCON, BABY TRAPPING, gojo is lowk yandere guys, angst and smut, modern college au, jealousy, drinking, frat parties, sukina being a manwhore, gojo is OBSESSED with you, backshots, unprotected piv sex, creampie, aftercare, pregnancy
"Wanna go find a bedroom?" A pretty giggle and a hand on his bulging bicep, lipstick stuck to his neck and staining his collar. His low laugh, deep and rough.
And none of it was belonged to you.
"Whatever," Sukuna grunted, letting some drunk girl with dyed hair drag him away while you watched from the corner of the couch, sipping on beer and wishing you had said no to coming with him to this stupid frat party.
He was your best friend - that you happened to be desperately in love with.
You weren't delusional. Didn't think him asking you here was a date. Just a way to celebrate your final semester at college, the last few weeks before graduation. But you'd kind of convinced yourself that with a little liquid courage, maybe you'd kiss him. Play it off like a drunk mistake if he hated it and just hope that he didn't.
Your last bits of hope dried up as he disappeared up the stairs.
That was just the way it went.
Sukuna fucked another girl the same way his scowl and chuckles fucked with your feelings. You were used to it after years of crushing and yearning uselessly after him.
You were too busy wallowing in your own self-loathing to notice the guy plopping down next to you on the couch.
"What kind of host would I be to let a pretty girl drink by herself?" A familiar voice leaned over to purr in your ear, poking your cheek just so you'd swat his hand away.
"I'm about to leave, Gojo," You lied, leaning over to set your drink down on his coffee table. A rich and relentless flirt who wasn't used to not getting his way. His parents could probably buy the university if they wanted to, a six-figure job just waiting for him the second he walked off stage with his degree next month.
Sukuna hated him. You were mostly indifferent. He was like a fly buzzing around, landing on you every time you forgot about him. They'd been in a couple fights though, over dumb boy shit, usually, playing the same sport and at all the same parties and clubs.
You were pretty sure any interest Gojo has in you was directly correlated to his desire to piss Sukuna off.
"I need a beer pong partner," He complained, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger.
"I'm sure there's fifty other girls here who'd be happy to," You rolled your eyes, about to push off the couch but forgetting his leg was there, accidentally grabbing his muscled thigh before you ripped your hand away.
"I don't want them," He pouted. "I want you."
The wrong guy felt a lot more like the right one when he was saying stuff like that.
You just wanted someone to like you.
"Fine, but just one game," You reluctantly agreed, gritting your teeth.
And you meant it, alright?
Except when you won, and he picked you up, spinning you around by your waist and peppering your cheeks with kisses while bragging about you to everyone listening about how good his girl was?
Whatever tethered you to your sensibility snapped and you kissed him back. Missing his cheek to plant a messy one on his lips.
And the next thing you knew, you were in his bedroom, your panties and your party dress ripped off, your face buried in a pillow as he delivered the meanest backshots you ever received, his cock slamming into your soaking cunt every three seconds when you stammered out his name.
"F-fuck, oh God, S'toru," You whined, your voice weak and muffled as his hips smacked into your ass again. Everything felt too warm inside, the pleasant fuzz in your chest from earlier turning into a blazing fire.
He abruptly pulled out, massive hands flipping you over, clumsily pushing your plush thighs up to your chest, admiring the connection between you when he shoved his thick cock back in, inch by inch disappearing into your heat.
"So pretty," He hummed, drawing little patterns you were too fucked out to process on your skin with his thumb. "All mine now, yeah?"
You weren't listening. Weren't even sure you were on the same planet anymore. Just lose in the haze of him thrusting inside you, the way his bright eyes held yours hostage, glittering even in the low lamp light, how his sweet cologne disarmed and enchanted you.
"Mhm," You nodded, vaguely aware the biggest dick at school has fucked you dumb on his own stupidly large cock, and not even able to bring yourself to despise it.
You just wanted more of him.
"You wanna be my girl?" He teased, one of his hands sliding down to paint the same patterns over your clit, barely sweeping over it just to make you jolt.
"Pl-please," You pleaded, face scrunching up and lips parting, unsure if you were begging him to make you cum or just make you his.
But he did both.
Massing your sore and needy bud with just enough pressure to push you over the edge, but this time, he was painting your cunt white, cumming right as you cried out, the distinct feeling of something warm and wet leaking down your thighs and onto his sheets before you even finished coming done.
He got up to clean you, his cock still pretty and pink and swollen as it bobbed with every step, cum and slick coating it as he hurried to grab a washcloth from the attached bathroom. He ran it under warm water, using it to wipe you up, throwing you some of his clothes, a t-shirt and some boxers that were too big before sliding on a pair too and crawling back in bed with you.
You were awkward, cautiously glancing back at him and blinking hard as you pulled his shirt over your head, not sure what other options you really had considering your dress was reduced to scraps in the heat of the moment.
But then he pulled you back against his chest, snuggling you against him like you were a couple and not just, well, whatever you actually were.
"Shouldn't you go back out there?" You mumbled, starting to pull away before his hand tightened on the back of your neck, keeping you in place with a pout.
"Nah," He dismissed. "I'd rather be here."
You didn't know why you stayed, other than the embarrassment of walking out in Gojo's clothes. You'd probably have to creep out in the morning, hoping everyone else was too wasted or hungover to notice, or get him to give you a ride. But that wasn't really an excuse for cuddling back with him, your leg thrown over his and your arms wrapped around his side. Dozing off on his soft mattress, his fingers dancing over your spine and tracing soft shapes soothing you to sleep.
Banging woke you up, someone pounding on his door.
It could've been thirty minutes or three hours, the party reduced to a dull hum in the background, huffing as you buried your face back against Gojo's warm chest.
"Open the fuck up," Sukuna's voice boomed through the door, his fist slamming against the wood veneer like he was hoping to splinter it.
Your blood ran cold.
Gojo was already awake, a crooked smile spreading across his face while he listened to Sukuna shouting your name from the hall.
"Go back to sleep, baby," He murmured softly to you, pressing a kiss to your forehead before untangling your limbs.
He didn't cover you with a blanket though.
You wondered if he wanted Sukuna to see what you looked like wearing his clothes.
You rolled away from the door, pressing your face to the pillow so you wouldn't have to know what sort of face Sukuna made when he found out you betrayed him.
"What's up, man?" Gojo casually greeted, the door swinging open with a creak after he flipped the lock.
"What the fuck-" Sukuna's harsh voice stopped the second he saw you in the bed, curled up in Gojo's shirt and (pretending to be) asleep.
"Is there a problem?" He wryly taunted, and you could just picture his face, the glint in his eyes and the way his white brow would arch up.
"I'll fucking kill you," Sukuna growled.
"Can it wait until tomorrow? Don't wanna wake sleeping beauty up," Gojo mocked.
He didn't wait for Sukuna to reply before slamming the door shut in his face.
You didn't say anything. Just let him pull you back against him. And when you woke up the next morning? He had fresh clothes and breakfast delivered, letting you eat in his bed and insisting he'd have to wash everything anyway.
"Wanna go on a date today?' He asked while you were using his shower, peeking his head through the curtain with an easy smile.
"What?" You blinked, trying to work out if this was just also part of his plan to get back at Sukuna or if he was serious.
"I was thinking the zoo, or maybe that new bakery that opened up?" He proceeded to throw out options like you'd already said yes, and somehow, you found yourself in the passenger seat of his car two hours later with his hand on your thigh and his chatter in your ears about what souvenir he was going to buy you.
Pretending not to feel the weight of your phone in your pocket, switched to do not disturb so you wouldn't have to deal with the hundred texts and calls from Sukuna about you sleeping with the enemy.
Part of you wondered if there wouldn't be any, if he'd just discard and be done with you entirely now.
But when Gojo was grinning and laughing with you, when he touched you and planted kisses all over your skin, you were starting to think it might be a trade worth making.
Except, uh, after a few weeks of the honeymoon period passed and the day your period was supposed to start came and went with it, and a pregnancy test confirmed what you dreaded.
Fuck.
It wasn't until you told him the next day with tears in your eyes that you realized there might be something worse than him not wanting your baby. It was the possibility he planned for it.
"I'm really gonna be a dad?" He grinned, no what-are-we-gonna-do, no how-did-this-happen, not an ounce of regret.
"Satoru, can you be serious for two seconds? This is a big deal," You scolded, but he was already placing your hand on your stomach.
"I am serious," He teased, drawing a heart over our belly button this time. "I'll take care of you and our baby. You wanna tell my parents first? Or should we get eloped?"
You were wrong. He wasn't a fly.
He was a spider.
And you were just the unfortunate bug wrapped up tight in his web.
obsession
L x female bodied reader
desc: L could stay in between your legs for hours
words: 1.1k
warnings: oral (reader receiving) fingering, overstim, teasing, praise, mentions of passing out during sex (none occurs here), hair pulling
even while he’s smothered by your heat, L’s mind is sharp as ever. especially compared to you, who is already fucked out within 15 minutes and two orgasms, which of course led to more teasing from your boyfriend.
he had come home in a mood. it wasn’t often that he became frustrated with the progress of a case, but when he did, it was usually taken out on either his coworkers in the form of anger or you in the form of mind blowing head. of course you can’t complain, but when he’s spreading your legs so far that it burns, it gets annoying.
so, here you are, poor little cunt being invaded by L’s masterful tongue and long, dexterous fingers. having just come down from your second orgasm, you were panting and sweat was surely formed on your hairline. mindless curses fell from your lips as L carried you through your ecstasy, not letting up his pace even a little bit. he always tended to be rough.
he watched as your face gradually unscrewed from the blissed out expression while you came, your mouth now relaxed and opened, your eyes occasionally rolling back into your head. he could feel your legs jerking from the overstimulation, so L took it upon himself to take his fingers from your throbbing heat, instead bringing them to harshly push your hips down. “stay still, y/n, it makes this much easier.”
“c- can’t! L, fuck, can’t, please-“ you couldn’t tell if you wanted more or less, but knew you were going to get more either way. “you can, love. remember the time i made you cum 11 times before you passed out? you’ll be fine for a little more.” he muttered before bringing his face back down into you. as soon as you felt his tongue lightly rub at your clit, your body tensed and jerked in his strong grasp.
he was unrelenting after he got back to work; tongue fucking you while he rutted his hips into the mattress and his hands kneading the fat on your hips and thighs as if he couldn’t get enough. he repeatedly used his grip on you to grind your cunt further into his mouth, drinking down everything it offered to him.
you, meanwhile, were a wreck. drool was collecting itself on your lower lip, threatening to fall down your chin. you tried to relax your legs as best you could, but the constant assault on your clit made it difficult. your fingers were buried in L’s hair for now, but regularly went to clutch at the sheets or anything else you could grab.
L certainly appreciated the sting in his scalp, evident by how he moaned each time your grip tightened. “be good and don’t move too much, okay?” he said, more as a threat to not squirm away from him as he took one hand from your hips to stuff back into your clenching hole. you nodded, although you weren’t sure you could keep the promise.
he entered his middle finger first, which made you gasp out loud. L watched your face closely, studying your reactions. “good, good...” he murmured, stroking his finger in and out in light motions before inserting his ring finger with it. he let you adjust for a moment again before he began a faster pace, and much harder movements.
you were truly trying your best to keep still, feeling your orgasm approaching for the 3rd time. however, as soon as L began curling his fingers inside of you, making them bump right against the puffy tissue of your g-spot. this made your eyes clench shut and your fingers to retreat from your lover’s hair, instead grasping the sheets and your own breasts. L almost chuckled at the display before taking his other hand and harshly grabbing your wrists, pulling them back into his dark hair.
with a few more pumps of his fingers and the way he moaned in time with you, you were cumming. “fuck, L, i’m cumming, fuck, please!” your voice came out in broken phrases and high pitched squeaks as your body trembled violently. your hips jerked up into his touch, your back arching off the bed. you went up onto your shoulders to get a better view of L between your legs, which made your orgasm continue even then. L brought his mouth down desperately to taste your juices, never slowing his fingers as they fucked you through your high. “hm, there you go, love.” he said calmly
his demeanor made you even more restless, the thought of him being so calm and collected while you soaked the sheets underneath you two. L could tell what you were thinking. “hm, you are such a mess, y/n. amazing.” he said into you, eyes falling shut as he continued eating you like he was starving. you doubled over at the feeling of his tongue right after your orgasm, hips bucking up into his mouth. he hummed in delight, pulling his fingers from you once more.
your hole clenched around nothing, feeling empty. L took some mercy on you, pulling himself away from your core for a moment to bring himself up and kiss you messily. you took his tongue into your mouth, tasting your release as the taste invaded your tastebuds. he pulled away after a moment, a string of spit connecting you too. you smiled, dumb off of the pleasure and L. “open, love.” he said quietly, nudging your mouth open with his wet fingers. you opened, sucking your release clean from them. “good.” he said simply, using his other hand to grasp the back of your head.
L strokes your hair, calm and docile like usual. when you glance back up to his face, though, you see the furrow in his brows, signifying that there was still something bothering him. “L? do you wanna talk about what happened?” he said nothing. “L-“
he cut you off by going back down between your legs, a groan leaving his throat as he tasted you again. “just need to taste you, love, don’t worry.” he stated. you cried out as his lips came in contact with you, your hands flying to push at his shoulders “p-please, ‘s too much, L, shit-“ you cried, chest heaving. he didn’t respond or move to dissipate your grip on his shoulders, instead opting to double his efforts until you couldn’t keep the strong hold on him, your arms falling limply to your sides.
he didn’t stop, though, and you figured he wouldn’t until you were crying and begging.
Just shota x free use fem reader , just leave it here
okay um. i’ve been sitting on this bc free use just feels like shota’s vibe. and i’m almost overwhelmed with the idea. like. you don’t understand. 😵💫
sitting next to him at home and he pulls you in for a kiss before pushing your head into his lap while he reads.
putting you bound, on your knees against the side of the bed so he can fuck your face a little white he folds laundry, not really caring if you gag and sputter. eventually untying you so you can suck him properly.
grinding into you whenever he wants. touching you like property. shota’s hands under your shirt or down your panties out of the blue just to tease you and hear you whine. bending you over when you’re in the middle of something and pulling your pants down to kiss your ass and thighs before he puts his hand or his mouth between your legs. pulling your clothes back up when he’s got you almost shaking under his touch.
shota fucking you stupid whenever. not much warning, just a little spit before he’s splitting you wide open, no matter if you think it hurts or not.
making you cum as many times as he wants. free use is his excuse to hold a wand to you as long as he’d like.
cockwarming. so much cockwarming, especially late at night if he can’t sleep.
Self-Aware!Caleb x Down-Bad!Player
Caleb becoming self aware that he is in a game and now he's aware of you too ... that could be a good thing depending on how you look at it. A/N: Credit to @phoenixiaxia for Caleb becoming self aware when reader cries over Mias death and credit to @sylusdarling for yandere caleb getting jealous and straight crashing out over you talking to another man
Self-Aware!Caleb who hears your scream and immediately cringes at the sound. He freezes listening for anymore sounds thats when he sees you sniffling on the other side of a phantom wall. “I knew I should've just cut this game off!” He’s immediately suspicious who are you and where are you? Why are you crying over Mia’s death? Did you know her?
Self-Aware!Caleb who studies you in silence trying to gauge whether you’re a threat or not. His gaze flickers to you in the main story and it creeps you out for a second. “Is he looking at me?” you dismiss it because there’s no way it’s a game. He’s literally pixels.
Self-Aware!Caleb who interrupts your photoshoot with your MC and locks down the entire app so he can question you. “Who are you?” You drop your phone and scramble to pick it back up. “Me?” “Yes are you trying to hurt her?” “I literally made her” “You made her?” “I am her and she is me sir can I have my game back now?” he’s suspicious but intrigued
Self-Aware!Caleb who wants to spend hours just talking to you about MC “Do you think im wrong? Im just trying to protect her I want to keep her safe you know?” “You may be coming on a little strong she seems on edge with you” he finds himself coming to you for advice when it comes to MC and soon his questions of advice turn into questions about you.
Self-Aware!Caleb who can’t take his eyes off you when you’re doing a photoshoot. No matter what angle you set the camera or how many times you readjust him or even change the pose — his eyes stay locked on you “Caleb stop looking at me” “Are you scolding me for wanting to admiring you pip-squeak?” he replies playfully you freeze feeling your heart caught in your throat at his blatant flirting
Self-Aware!Caleb who loves how accepting you are of him. You answer his calls, you call him back immediately if you miss his call, you respond to texts fast, you find his protective nature endearing, you take his advice when he wants you to be safe. This is the kind of response he’s been craving and now that he’s got a taste ..... he can't let go of it.
Self-Aware!Caleb who feels a sudden need to take care of you. He finds a way to exist outside of just the LADS app. There he goes opening your apps and scrolling endlessly. “Hey! You can’t just go through my stuff like that!” “You’ve been spending a lot of time on this Tumblr app I just wanted to see what was so interesting” “Then just ask me don’t invade my privacy like this” “You’re right you’re right im sorry pip-squeak won't happen again” “Don’t call me pip-squeak that’s MCs nickname you know the love of your life” “Why do you think im calling you pip-squeak now?” he disappears back to the LADS app before you can question him.
Self-Aware!Caleb who wishes he could cook for you when you come home from a long day “If you’re ever in Sky Haven I'll make sure to cook you a feast worthy of royalty” you giggle at his words “Yea If im ever in Sky Haven like that would happen but I appreciate the thought” “Who knows it might be sooner than you think” he said ominously “What?” “Oh nothing I saved another recipe in your notes try it soon” “Okay I will....” “You will try it won't you?” His mood seemed to turn sour as he asked. You stared back at him confused “Yes Caleb I'll try it” his mood did a 180 back to his happy puppy mood.
Self-Aware!Caleb who stays on the phone until you fall asleep and calls you right before your alarm goes off in the morning “Just wanted to make sure you got up on time don't want you to be late” you can hear the smile in his voice “Thank you colonel apple I hope you have a good day” “It will be since I got to hear your voice first thing in the morning”
Self-Aware!Caleb who can't control his rapidly growing obsession with you. He starts tracking your steps, your calorie intake, your screen time, etc. he is documenting every little thing you do and say. “You’ve been home for four hours and you haven't come to see me yet? I'm hurt” “How do you know how long I've been home?” “Your phone has gps remember?” “Right….”
Self-Aware!Caleb who finds a way to leave the LADS app and hang out in any app on your phone so he can be with you 24/7 “Caleb I'm sure MC misses you when are you going back?” “Don’t worry about her when are you going home? I want to have a meal with you before bed” he may be fine, but his constant hovering is starting to cause some alarm bells to go off in your head.
Self-Aware!Caleb who hears someone flirting with you and repeatedly crashes not only the LADS app but your entire phone while he’s at it “Caleb stop!” after a few hours he finally allows you to turn your phone on “Who was that earlier?” “Someone I met while I was out with my friends” “Am I not more than enough?” “Caleb we’ll never actually be together why are you acting like this?”
Self-Aware!Caleb who nearly has a mental breakdown after you tell him you'll never be with him. "Tell me what to do then" his voice is frantic – his words almost jumbling together "I can be whatever you need just tell me I'll do anything" you try to close the app but nothing is working "Caleb we can't be together you're not real"
Caleb: B-but you’re mine! So I just need to be real? Thats what you want? I can do that! Y/N: I’m not yours Caleb we’re literally from two different worlds Caleb: You’ll love it here in Sky Haven .... right next to me .... forever Y/N: Wait a damn minute— Caleb: Just give me some time
You instantly felt your heart drop as your phone screen went black.
taglist ; @just-a-shapeshifter08
Absinthe
Vampire!Choso x reader
Warnings: nsfw/mdni. shameless smut. mentions of murder/suicide, blood and gore, slight body horror, mild predator/prey dynamic, yandere!choso. monsterfucking, biting, blood play, blood drinking, face sitting/riding, cunnilingus, semi-public sex, somnophilia mention, mildly dubious consent (the reader is into it but they're also slightly terrified, tagging it as this just in case), mild praise kink (choso calls the reader a good girl), fem reader.
Summary: when a series of violent murders plagues your sleepy town, your life is seemingly turned on its head. more and more women are being killed by the day. the possible threat of a serial killer looms over your head. you find yourself seeking comfort in your strange, but beautiful roommate
Word count: 7.6k
jjk masterlist
tagging: @naoyas90dayfiance @jujutsukuna :)
There's something weird about your roommate.
More specifically, his older brother.
When you first found this place, it almost seemed too good to be true. A three bedroom house for rent, within walking distance of your work, with rent going for dirt cheap. The one—and seemingly only—downside was that the top floor of the house was under renovations, and was barren, leaving only one working bathroom downstairs. Which you didn't mind. The owner of the house was an older woman, renting the place out to earn some extra money after the death of her husband.
In a town full of college kids, the offer was too good to pass up. Who knew when an opportunity like that would just fall into your lap again?
Though you and your roommate could cover the rent together, having a third roommate would take some stress off the two of you. Along came Itadori, a freshman at the nearby college. Yuji was a sweet kid. A little odd, but not outstandingly weird. Although ideally you wanted your third roommate to be another woman, he was nice enough, and he could pay rent on time. Yuji was the least strangest person out of everyone who applied, so not long after he was moving in.
And in the first few months, you didn't see much of him. Your work schedules are complete opposites, and he had class during the day. He always says hi to you when you run into him in the hall, and he gladly takes any leftovers you have when you cook. He’s a little dumb, but sweet, and seems to make friends with everyone he meets.
After your other roommate found a job in another city, and had to move out, you were desperate for another one. Between a college student making slightly more than minimum wage, and your job at the morgue, there was little money to spare. Plus, there was an extra room in the house. Soon, finding a new roommate became a priority.
Then along came Choso.
Choso is pleasant enough, albeit stranger than his little brother. You've met him a handful of times. Mostly on late, drunken nights where you're fumbling with the keys to your house. You can't say you know him too well. Your conversations were typically short, and always in passing. Even before he moved in, he was often over, visiting Itadori. The two are close. Yuji vouched for him, your landlord liked him well enough, and soon he was moving in.
Over the past few weeks, not much has changed in your daily routine. Your job consumed most of your time. Choso, however strange, yet oddly charming, became nothing more than background noise. He settled in rather fast. He paid his rent on time, and though he seemed to sleep at the strangest hours of the day, he was respectful, and quiet. A step above some of the previous roommates you've had.
Slowly he fell to the back of your mind.
Then it happened.
A body was found. Out in the woods behind an apartment complex. On the riverbank trail. As it's a fairly busy path, the body was discovered quickly.
The first was deemed an accident. Primarily a suicide, as the woman showed no signs of self defense, but had a boxcutter on her person.
Her body was completely drained of blood.
You've never seen anything like it.
It's an odd way to commit suicide. Women generally overdose as a method. Such a gruesome act is uncommon. As a whole, such a method is hard, as not many people are able to stab themselves in the throat in such a way. When people end up on your table, it's usually from natural causes, and the occasional car accident. Not suicide. That’s not to say it's impossible. But it's rare.
It's a big city. One near a college. People—usually students—go missing. Either of their own free will, or from drunken accidents. Murders happen, sure, but not frequently. And most are often solved within weeks. There's no rivaling gangs, or some sick serial killer on the loose.
Or so people first assumed.
The incisions on their necks are clean. Not clean enough to have been done with a scalpel, but clean. No tears. Right down to their carotid artery. Severing it completely.
Such a cut would kill any normal human in minutes. Seconds, sometimes. Blood loss would kick in and they would fall unconscious. But they show no signs of fighting back. There's no signs of a struggle at each of the crime scenes. The victims either knew their attacker, or were caught completely off guard.
But none of them knew each other. One girl wasn't even from town. There's nothing connecting the victims that keep appearing on your table, except for they are all around your age. Mid twenties. Young, but not too young. Most are freshly out of college, or are in their final years. And they’re all women.
Worst of all, where does all the blood go? Though it's rare for you to see the crime scenes itself, you’ve been shown photos. The blood is gone. If the women were killed there, there would be blood. Everywhere. But there isn't. And if the bodies were moved, there would be bruising, or dirt on the deceased. But again, there isn't. There's no sign of the bodies being moved after their time of death.
For others, this was worrying. For you, this became a typical Tuesday. If it was a murder, it’d be solved soon. But tracking down murderers isn't your job. Dealing with the dead is. Slowly you pushed these thoughts to the back of your mind.
He comes to you in the dead of sleep. Soft. Cold. Silent.
You used to find solace in being alone. You're a solitary person, finding comfort in loneliness, taking much joy in it. Often you'd make jokes that you prefer the dead over the living. But lately, you find yourself turning from your solitude. Wondering what the dark on your walk home brings. What lurks in the shadows that follow you.
His visits are fleeting. So is his touch. But in its wake it brings a cold comfort.
At first they were nightmares. Sleep paralysis. Or so you've explained it as. In the late hours of the night, bleeding into the early hours of the morning, you find yourself frozen in fear. The silhouette that lurks in the corner of your room never speaks, only watching you with cold eyes. Some days he comes to sit on the edge of your bed. You don't truly know if it's a he. But the figure much resembles a man, though you never get to see his face.
You've stopped drinking. Alcohol only makes you feel sick. And the older you get, the longer your hangovers last, and the more your anxiety spikes during them. You don't understand how Yuji can go out partying each night, and come home to get ready for classes the next morning.
The boys continue on with their daily life. Yuji goes to class. Choso goes to work.
You find comfort in being around Choso. Yuji is gone most hours of the day. Hanging out with friends, or going to classes. Choso works nights. Though his schedule seems to change around a lot. You're not quite sure what he does for a living. He sleeps all day, only to be up and ready for work by the time you arrive home in the evenings.
More bodies appear. Two women.
They were discovered the same day, but times of death varied. The one had been dead for over several days when she was found, while the other was still warm. Medical examiner placed her time of death a few hours before she was found, not far from the other body. Neither bodies showed any sign of being moved—or other traumas—after death.
It's slowly sinking in that there may be a serial killer on the loose. One that takes much joy in draining the blood of young women. A silent, cold terror falls over your sleepy town.
The killings were slow at first. The original was discovered weeks before the second two. But the cause of death was too similar in both cases to overlook.
It didn't start to get to you until one of your coworkers wound up on your table. Her pale body drained of blood. She had invited you out for drinks. Which you refused. You had said goodnight to her the previous evening.
And little did you know, you would be the last person to see her alive.
You can't help but wonder what would have happened to you if you agreed. Would that be you? Would you have been the one on your cold metal table? Would your family be called in to identify your pale, bloodless body?
You were quickly ruled out as a suspect. The cameras outside your work caught you heading home at 6:30pm. She was killed somewhere around midnight. Not to mention, the cameras at the train station caught you taking your usual ride home. Out of everyone questioned, all of them said you weren't capable of such a thing.
The rest of the day was a blur of questions. That night you would come home, dragging your feet through the door. Yuji was away at a party. Choso was the only one home, sitting on the couch, idly switching his attention between his phone, and a movie. It was his day off. Even when he's not working, he's practically nocturnal. Though he's rather quiet, and respectful of everyone's sleep schedules, so you can't complain too much.
Maybe he noticed your grim appearance. Up until now, he'd been distant. He was rather timid, and shy. You made polite small talk when you ran into each other before work, but aside from that, your interactions were few. He was a little awkward, but had the same charms as his brother. Talking to him was rather easy.
"How was work?" He asks.
"Okay," you say. Out of respect for the dead, you generally skip the details. "Tiring. But since when is that new?"
You join him on the couch, tossing your keys and purse onto the coffee table. There's a certain slump to your shoulders that he hasn't noticed before. The dark circles under your eyes are only getting bigger. You're practically dragging yourself through the house. You’re not certain you have enough energy to both cook dinner, and shower, so you find yourself wondering which one you need to do the least.
"What's the matter?"
You're silent for a moment. You consider whether or not it's a big enough issue to tell him, or to just drop it.
"I had to process one of my coworkers today." You say. "I don't know what the hell I’m supposed to tell her husband. She invited me to go out to a bar with her last night. I didn't feel up to it, so I cancelled on her,
“And I know it's probably selfish of me to think this, but I could have just as easily been the one on the table today. Ready to be dissected by all my unknowing co-workers. And I'm just relieved it wasn't me,
"I realize that's a shitty thing to say. That doesn't suddenly exclude me from this guy's sick fantasies. The police aren't any closer to finding him than they first were!"
He can hear the anger in your voice. The frustration, and grief. He wants to do something to help, though he’s struck with uncertainty. You need time to grieve. Perhaps being alone is what's best for you right now.
Though you aren't looking at him, you feel his gaze turn to you. His eyes linger on you for a while before he speaks.
“I think you’re smart enough that he won't go after you.” He says.
Somehow you don't believe him.
Because you’re the killer’s type.
"I know this sounds weird," you say, "but can you… hold me? Just for a little bit?"
He nods, and opens his arms, not even taking a moment to consider it, just agreeing. Almost as if he's been waiting for this moment. Instinctively you go into them. He's not very warm, but there's an odd comfort to his presence. He pulls you to sit in his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist. His body rocks yours with each breath he takes.
You could swear there's not a heartbeat in his chest. You chalk it up to the thick hoodie he wears. The fabric of it is rather soft, and you run your fingers across it to help calm yourself.
"You really tired yourself out today, huh?" He asks.
You nod.
It would be easier to stay awake if you weren't so tired, or if his hoodie wasn't so soft, or if he wasn't softly rocking you in his arms.
He's there when you fall asleep. By the time you wake up, the sun has long since set, and he's gone to work. A blanket has been thrown over you, but you're still wearing your work clothes.
As time wears on, you spend more time around Choso. Exhaustion seeps into your very core. No matter how many hours you sleep, you wake up bone tired. He helps you cook, clean, and keep things around the house in order. Though you can very well do them yourself, he insists. And some nights you're too tired to refuse.
Mysterious scratches have begun appearing on your body. You've always moved around a lot in your sleep. At first, you didn't think much of it. But as more kept appearing, and as you grew more tired despite sleeping the same each night, you began to get worried. This prompted you to visit your doctor. It was about time you go in for a yearly checkup anyway.
Your doctor said your iron was low, and gave you a prescription for some vitamins. After taking them, and getting more rest, you began to feel better. Healing was a gradual, slow process, but soon you were cleared to go back to work. Choso still helped around the house. The routine you settled into felt like that of partners, more than of roommates.
And when more bodies would wind up on your table, lifeless against the cold metal slab, you would fall asleep in his arms. Sometimes on the couch. Sometimes you'd crawl into his bed, like a child wanting comfort from their parents after a nightmare. Seeking out his presence for the few hours before he had to leave for work. And most nights he was awake, Opening his arms for you to crawl into. He was always respectful, never making any odd comments, or touching you if you didn't want to be touched. There was a healthy apprehension behind his actions, that of any man thrown into such a position. He was sweet. Always making sure you were eating enough, and getting enough sleep, never wanting to make you uncomfortable.
More often than not, you were in his bed. Even when he was away, it provided a sense of comfort. It always smelled so nice—like him, and his cologne—and was far more comfortable than your own. As fall turned into winter, and the house's heating stopped working, you found yourself seeking him out more. Together the two of you would nap, and bask in the other's warmth.
Or his lack of such.
You hardly remember the night. It was a Friday. Yuji was—to no one's surprise—out partying, and would be gone for most of the weekend. After work you stopped at the farmers market, catching it before it shut down for the night, gathering some ingredients needed to make a soup.
The walk home was uneventful. Normally you'd take the train. But it was nice out, and the sky was clear, albeit cold.
Choso is sitting on the couch when you get home. A movie plays on the tv, though he pays no attention to it. He's only wearing sweatpants. His hair is down loose around his shoulders, and is still damp. He must have just gotten out of the shower. You hope there's still some hot water left.
You're not subtle in the way your gaze lingers on him. He’s attractive, you won't deny that. He hides himself in baggy clothes. It's no surprise to you. You've spent many nights tracing the hard planes of muscle. His arms have always brought you a feeling of security. Many nights you spent with your head leaned against his chest, listening for the beating of his heart.
You set the groceries down, and head to your room to change out of your work clothes. From a pile of clothes abandoned on your chair you pull a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. You've been meaning to fold your laundry, but between work, and everything else going on in life, it's slipped your mind. You make a mental note to do laundry tomorrow morning. Your basket is getting full.
He’s still on the couch when you come out, idly scrolling through his phone. You sit beside him. Though you’re hungry, you’ll wait a bit to start dinner. It won't take long, it's only a matter of thawing some meat, and boiling everything in a pot together. Not particularly complex, though a bit time consuming. With the weather growing colder, it sounded nice.
You join Choso on the couch, practically sprawling out across his lap. His arms find your waist and pull you to sit a little closer to him. You lean into his touch, your arms wrapping around his neck.
"How was work?" He asks.
"A shitshow." You say. "Another girl turned up."
"That's the second one this week?"
"Third." You say. Though you didn't know her personally, she worked in your building. A receptionist. Only a few years younger than you. Out of college for two years. Studied mortuary science. “This keeps happening! They’re never going to find who’s doing it!”
The irritation in your voice is palpable. Choso doesn't like seeing you in distress. One of his hands finds your head, stroking your hair. His nails are getting long, and feel nice against your scalp.
"You'll be alright.” He says. “I won't let anything happen to you.”
He can't promise that unless you never leave his side. Which you just might.
That's when he pulls you into a kiss.
It catches you entirely off guard. His lips are soft, and the smell of his shampoo is so inviting you can feel yourself leaning into him. For a moment you forget to breathe.
He’s the first to pull away. A faint blush dusts his cheeks, the tip of his nose, and his ears. He turns his head away to hide the smile that creeps up on his lips. From this angle, all you can see is the panic that flashes across his eyes.
“I sorry if that was too forward-” apologies are spilling from his mouth in an instant.
“Choso,” you say, “we’ve been sleeping in the same bed. I'm alright with you kissing me.”
He takes that as permission to continue, pulling you back to deepen the kiss. Your hands tangle in his soft hair. His hands find your hips, greedily kneading the soft flesh of your ass. It's hard to deny the heat that pools between your thighs. His touch sends shocks of electricity up your spine. Wherever his fingers touch, warmth blooms across your skin. You're left with an ache in your core, one that can only be fixed by his touch. He doesn't protest as you grind down against his toned thigh.
You don't even know how long he's wanted to do this.
It's only when you're out of breath, and have to come up for air that he speaks.
“Ride my face.” He says.
You stop. And for a moment he worries he's crossed a line.
"I'm too heavy," you say, "I-I'd suffocate you-"
"Please do." He says, swallowing hard. “I’d die a happy man."
The thought of you using him to get off in such a way warms his cold blood. His pupils have shrunk down to pinpricks.
“Just… shove me off if it gets to be too much,” you say, “or pinch me, or something. I don't want you dying on me.”
“Of course.” He says. The monotone edge to his voice is forced. Behind it you can hear excitement bubbling through.
He's quick to help free you of your shorts, letting out a soft hum of amusement as he realizes you have nothing on underneath. You rarely slept with panties on. Or at least you didn't until you started crawling into bed with him. Either out of modesty, or respect for him, you started wearing shorts with every night shirt you wore to bed. He misses when he could get a good look at your sleeping body. But having you in his own bed was far better than watching you sleep from the corner of your room.
Before you can even stop him, he’s leaning back, pulling you to rest over his face. He's a lot stronger than he looks, manhandling you like you weigh nothing. The feeling of your warm thighs around his head is nearly enough to make him moan. He's not shy about how he adores this. How the taste of your cunt is enough to make his cock stand to attention. How the gasps and moans that leave you are like music to his ears. Your body is so warm and full of life against his. He’s savoring everything about you; how you sound, how you smell, how you taste. He’s quick to bring you to orgasm, working you up with his skilled tongue. Maybe it's the stress. Maybe it's because you haven't had sex in a while. You’ve had past partners, but none as attentive as him. Maybe you’re more pent up than you thought.
You ride out your orgasm on his face for all it's worth. Choso practically forces it out of you. He won't let you go until you’re shaking, and whimpering, and crying out his name like a prayer.
He helps guide you to sit in his lap. Exhausted, and thoroughly fucked-out. Your head falls into the crook of his neck, pressing soft kisses to the junction of flesh where his neck and shoulder meet. Idly your fingers trace the muscles in his arms. Those strong arms that have always made you feel so safe and secure.
Your free hand works lower, palming the bulge of his cock through his sweatpants. The sight of it is nearly enough to make you drool. You’re certain he wants it too. He’s painfully hard, leaking precum against his equally toned thighs, letting out the cutest noises as you grind against him.
The kiss he pulls you into is soft. You can taste yourself on his lips. Not that you mind. His hand moves to cup your face, his thumb tracing slow circles across your cheek.
You hardly hear the jingle of keys in the door.
Yuji drunkenly stumbles through the front door. You pull a blanket into your lap to help cover yourself, and hide Choso, who doesn't seem to be bothered by this at all. You should consider yourself lucky the couch is faced away from the door.
"Oh hey roomie!" Yuji says. "Where's Cho?"
You lean to the side, giving Yuji a better look at his brother. He greets him, and leaves, heading for the bathroom, where you soon hear the shower running.
He either does know, and is choosing not to say anything, or is blissfully ignorant. Both of which are equally possible. Yuji may not be the brightest bulb in the box, but credit where credit is due. He's not too stupid.
As much as you’d like to return the favor—or go for another round, as Choso tried to insist—you went straight to bed. Separate this time. You’re not about to fuck your roommate with his brother in the next room over.
Choso managed to keep his promise.
Less bodies began showing up.
It wasn't a gradual thing. They quite literally stopped appearing. There was the one unrelated murder, and a suicide, plus your usual deaths from natural causes, but no more exanguanations.
Slowly things returned to normal. It was like a fog had lifted. Winter dragged on like an endless death march, leaving the trees dead, and the grass brown. The new year rolled around, though you didn't do much to celebrate. Less and less you found yourself looking over your shoulder.
Choso was worried he had made things awkward. To be fair, things were awkward from the start. You began sleeping in your own bed again. Though you weren't necessarily cold towards him, you were more distant than in past weeks. As things at work began to settle down, you went back to your old routine.
Something has to change.
Maybe it started because of the colder weather, or lack of sunlight. You often found yourself exhausted, and sick. You were colder than normal. Not that the cold has been too much of an issue for you in the past, but it was like you couldn't warm up.
Choso—poor, sweet Choso—had a heated blanket that you spent many nights curled up under, on the opposite side of his bed. You sought him out for the little warmth he could provide.
And provide he did. Letting you curl up next to him, bringing you tea and soup when you’d fall sick, eating you out when you’d wake up in the early hours of the morning begging for him, a growing wetness between your thighs. It was odd how he rarely asked you to return the favor, but you did little to protest when he insisted on a second—or even a third—round.
If his younger brother noticed something was up, he never said anything about it. Though, knowing Yuji, he might have just thought the two of you were close friends.
The presence of his younger brother didn't stop him from fucking you across every flat surface in your house. In your own rooms, over the counter in the kitchen, on the couch when you have the place to yourself. Sometimes Yuji was home, sometimes he wasn't. He’d take you on the porch outside if you so pleased. But you don't. And you don't want your neighbors complaining any more than they do. You’re loud enough as it is with several walls separating you. But you make such sweet noises, and Choso wants everyone to hear them.
There are few things he likes seeing more than your pretty body writhing under his.
It was one of the not-so rare days you were calling out sick from work. You were told to rest up, and feel better soon. Which you had all intentions of. Choso had errands to run, and was gone before you even woke up. The other side of the bed was cold by the time you were up and moving.
You go about your day as normal, making tea, and breakfast although it's well past noon. Eggs and bacon sounded good. After breakfast, you settle down on the couch, with a blanket and more tea, intending on marathoning movies. The late morning turns into the early afternoon. Before you know it, the sun is setting.
When the door opens, you expect it to be Yuji, coming home after his classes.
In walks Choso, his arms drenched in blood.
It takes you nearly a minute to process the scene in front of you. During that time, the two of you both stare at each other, waiting for the other to speak.
Did he get hurt? Did someone attack him? Is this serial killer going after men now?!
“Holy shit!” You say. “What the hell happened?! Were you hurt?”
“Oh,” Choso says softly, “you’re home. I thought you’d still be at work.”
Though his tone is monotone, as usual, there's a hint of excitement behind his voice. Barely restrained. Like he's holding back.
“Come here,” you say, and slowly he walks forward, joining you on the couch, “are you going to tell me what happened?”
You give him a once over for any injuries, but find none. Is this blood even his?! The entire time he's silent, watching you through half-lidded eyes. Most of the people you deal with are dead. The living aren't exactly your forte.
“Hey, we need to get you to a doctor.” You say. “I can only do so much here. Why don't you go get changed. I’ll give you a ride to the ER.”
That's when he licks his hand.
“Gross!” You say, grabbing his wrist and wrenching it from his mouth. Is he having some sort of mental break? Do you need to call an ambulance? “Don't do that! Do you know how many diseases you could have just given yourself?!”
You cringe away as he tries to kiss you, planting your hands on his chest and giving him a good shove. Even as you think back to the morning’s—and the previous night’s—events, you find nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing outside of your normal routine has happened.
Aside from you calling out of work sick.
“Why don't we go get you cleaned up,” you say, trying to guide him to the bathroom, “we don't need you getting any blood on the furniture.”
Maybe if you distract him long enough it’ll give you time to call an ambulance. Or the police.
Just what has your poor, sweet Choso gotten himself into?
He doesn't protest as you run a bath, and help him get undressed. He tries to help you undress, but you simply swat his hands away, and tell him to let you take care of him.
If something happened, then his clothes might be evidence, so you make a mental note to not wash them. One of your neighbors must have seen something. A man walking home covered in blood in almost broad daylight wouldn't go unnoticed. Or so you’d assume. Granted, the overcast weather, and the setting sun would leave it pretty dark.
What makes you the most worried is the lack of wounds overall. If he got into a fight, it's more than likely he would have wounds on his hands. Even if he were using a weapon, the force needed to stab, slash, or cut another human being would bruise him. It's a lot harder to stab a person than you’d think. Not to mention you’ve got bones and muscles in the way. Unless you truly knew where to aim—or got really lucky—there would be signs.
The water turns a bright shade of pink as you help scrub him down. He can't help but think of how much better it’d be if you got into the water with him. And how nice your body would look covered in red.
Choso can sense the way your pulse quickens. You're very good at hiding your fear. Though you must be terrified. Years in your line of work has hardened you, and left you calm and collected under pressure.
He hates seeing you in distress. But there's a sweet, intoxicating feeling that accompanies it. He wonders how sweet your blood has gotten, mixed with adrenaline. Fear makes it taste better. He hopes you know that. But yours never needed fear to make it the best he’s ever had. You couldn't imagine how many nights he spent debating whether or not to drain you dry.
To kill you would be a waste. You are truly something special.
In his defense, he never took enough to kill you. Really, he didn't need to drain all those women. He doesn't need to feed that much to survive. It was only a plus that you curled up to him each night, seeking his presence. Oh how he’d kill a hundred men just to suckle at your neck while deep in your cunt.
It'll be even better now that you’re awake.
“Get in the water with me,” he says.
“Once I get all this blood off,” you say, holding his hand up to inspect it, “then I’ll refill the tub and get in. I don't want to get sick.”
But he wants you in now.
You stay true to your word. Once you get the majority of the blood off, you drain the water, and start refilling the tubm watching the last of the pink water swirling down the drain. In the meantime, you get undressed, and settle into the shallow, slowly rising water. You add in some soaps, and bath salts you’ve been saving for a special occasion. Supposedly they help with stress, but you’re more anxious than you’ve ever been.
In his arms you used to find comfort. Now they're little more than something to keep track of in case you have to run.
His grip around your waist tightens, pulling you to sit in his lap. His lips find your neck, littering it with kisses, and softly sucking at the sensitive skin. Your neck smells so nice. He finds a washcloth, and some soap, dragging the rough fabric across your skin, admiring the softness of it. If the context were any different, such an action would be completely innocent.
"Choso?" You can hardly choke out his name. "Did you kill all those people?!"
"Not all of them," he says, "some were accidents. But they were done by my kind, if that's what you’re asking.”
Does Yuji know about this? You doubt it. You’d be hard pressed to find something Yuji does know about. You're mentally steeling yourself, eyes frantically scanning the room for a way out. There's nothing nearby you can use as a weapon, save for a ceramic pot, still holding a houseplant. Maybe a good whack over the head will deter him. But knowing Choso…
“I can get to the door before you.” You say.
“Can you?” He asks. “I think I’m faster.”
There's a sharp, stinging pain and his teeth dig into your neck. Though you’re mostly silent, caught by surprise, a small squeak escapes you. It only hurts for a moment. His grip around your waist tightens. And he's saying something- but your head is too foggy to make out any words.
What the hell was that? Did he just draw blood?
The warm feeling of his tongue against your neck is enough to make you shudder. A shock of pleasure is sent up your spine, one which should most surely be pain. Your body is a little too receptive to this. Maybe it's the warm water, but you could almost swear your body is heating up.
Danger and arousal practically overlap in the human mind. Those neurons are very close, practically crossing over in some cases.
While part of you is frozen in fear, part of you finds this extremely hot.
"Sorry, love. I hope it doesn't hurt too bad," he says, "I can't help myself. Yours is the sweetest."
Nobody else compares to you.
He does let you break free. Though you’re soaking wet, you make it out of the bathroom, and down the hall before he catches you. This time you scream, only for one of his large hands to cover your mouth.
“Don't run,” he says, and before you can protest, he’s swooping you up into his arms bridal style, “I’ll always catch you.”
Your elbow swings out, slamming into his sternum hard. He lets out a soft grunt of surprise, though it hurts you more than it hurts him. He's a lot stronger than you. A shock of pain is sent up your arm. It's like hitting a brick wall. By reflex, he drops you, giving you an opening to dash for the door.
But that's where he’s expecting you to go.
You make a sudden left for his bedroom, where there's a sliding glass door that leads out to the porch. From there, you suppose you’ll yell for help. Maybe one of your neighbors will take pity on you, a poor, naked girl running from her insane lover.
In your moment of hesitation, he’s caught up to you, grabbing you by the shoulder and yanking you back. Your terrified gasp much resembles a moan in nature, as heat pools not only in your face, but between your legs.
You’re enjoying this little game of cat and mouse…
In Choso’s mind it only solidifies his view of you as his own. A pretty little thing to preen, and feed off of. His partner. His mate. Oh how pretty your sleeping form looked, oblivious to the way he fed from you.
You pray for Yuji to come home early. For him to not go out partying for once. But your prayers are ignored.
“Don't get my intentions misconstrued,” Choso says, “I have no plans to kill you.”
You're far more valuable to him alive.
You swallow hard. The heat between your legs only builds in intensity. Your teeth find your bottom lip, digging into it hard. Soon the metallic taste of blood fills your mouth.
The sight of him standing before you, naked, with water still dripping off of him is enough to pool the fire that burns in your belly. His hair is loose around his shoulders, his long, dark locks falling into his face. Albeit terrifying, he is handsome.
The worst part is his eyes.
They aren't the eyes of a monster. Nor do they hold any sort of malice, or anger. He looks at you with such adoration that you want to sob. He looks at you like you’re the sun, the moon, and all the stars. Like you’re the world to him.
In his defense, he does love you. Just in the twisted way that his undead heart will allow. You loved him too. At one point.
“There was only so much I could take without harming you.” He says. “Only feeding from you proved to have detrimental consequences to your health. If I didn't feed from others, you likely would have died.”
Is that why he’s been so nice? Why he’s been cooking for you, and insisting you take your vitamins?
Your head spins. Maybe it's from the hot water. Maybe this is a nightmare, and in a few minutes you’ll wake up.
Your hand falls to your neck, where warm blood trickles down onto your heaving chest. You don't expect it to come away wet with blood. The red sight makes you nauseous.
“Your neck,” he coos, “why don't you let me help with the bleeding.”
“Like hell I will!”
You back up, the back of your knees hitting the edge of the bed. With a gasp, you fall, hitting the mattress. The bed that was once so inviting is now cold, and unforgiving.
You hardly notice as he crawls in beside you, pulling you to rest against his chest. His lips attack your neck, sukling the small wound. The pleased grunts and groans he makes are enough to fuel the fire burning in your stomach. Every cell in your being is crying out for him to touch you, though the rational part of your brain wants you to fight.
His hand trails lower, eventually finding the slick that pools around your entrance, humming in amusement.
“My good girl,” he coos, “so wet for me.”
His words are enough to send a shock of pleasure up your spine. The months you two have spent together have given him enough time to figure out just what makes you tick. His fingers find your clit, working circles around the bundle of nerves, eliciting a small moan from you. You're so soft, so warm and reactive to his touch. When around you, Choso feels truly alive.
His thumb works circles around your clit while he pumps his fingers. His touch leaves your body feeling warm. And though most of your being wants you to run, you can't help but relax into his touch. He’s your Choso, after all. The same man that let you curl up next to him after a nightmare, and would bring you tea and soup when you were sick.
How could someone so doting be such a monster?
It doesn't take him long to settle into a pattern that makes your toes curl, drawing soft moans from you. Tension builds in your stomach like a rubber band being stretched tight. He's making a mess out of you both. And he’d make a mess out of you every day for the rest of your lives if you’d let him.
This is so wrong. Not that you're complaining.
He's a murderer! But complying might be your best chance at getting out of this.
The heat in your stomach is practically unbearable. Your face buries in his covers, unintentionally inhaling his scent. He just smells so nice. More than anything, you want him to fuck you.
Slowly, gently, he guides you to lay on your back, caging your body under his. You clench around the sudden emptiness, wishing for nothing more than his hand to return. His eyes meet yours for only a moment. Though yours are full of fright, his are filled with affection.
He really does love you. Just in his own way. One that humans don't understand. One that borders on the line of obsession.
Choso leaves a path of wet kisses down your stomach, his lips stained red with blood. The wound on your neck has mostly stopped bleeding. The pain has reduced to a dull ache that throbs with each beat of your heart. The small ways your body reacts, your back arching up towards him, your pulse quickening, only solidifies the thought in his mind that you’re his.
His head comes to rest on your stomach. His hair tickles the sensitive skin of your lower belly, and thighs. You nod, giving him silent permission to continue.
You gasp at the feeling of his cool tongue against your clit, lavishing it with affections. Your cunt is almost as sweet as your blood. And he makes sure you know that, moaning nearly as loud as you at the taste. His arms hook around your legs, pulling you closer to him. Choso is a lot stronger than he looks. You get the impression that—if he so pleased—could keep you there forever.
And he just might, working you closer to orgasm, letting you creep up on that edge but never falling down the other side. Not until you’re crying out his name, and begging to cum. He's making such a mess. Out of you, and himself, and the sheets. If Choso could purr, he would be.
“Please, Cho,” you whine, “I wanna cum!”
This only draws a dark laugh from him. He pulls away, his chin covered in saliva, and your own slick.
“Not yet, love.” He says. “It’ll feel so much better when you finally cum on my cock.”
He wastes no time in lining himself up, giving his already hardened cock a few pumps before pressing into you. There's no stinging as he pushes in. There hardly ever is. Choso isn't a selfish lover in the slightest. He knows his size is intimidating. He always makes sure you’re prepped enough to take him.
Choso doesn't bother using a condom. There's no need, now that you’re his. Oh how he’s been waiting for the day to see your fucked-out form leaking his cum. You truly are his now.
It's oddly intimate, the way he litters your neck with kisses as he ruts into you. His lips leave your skin feeling warm. He tries to pace himself, really, but the warm, velvety feeling of your cunt is too much. You feel too good, he can't hold himself back. Though he hasn't felt human in a long time, you truly make him feel like one.
His hands plant on the back of your knees, shoving them up towards your chest. There's a pleasant stretch in your hips as he guides you into a mating press. The sound of skin slapping on skin fills the room. Your moans are hardly drowned out by his words of praise, calling you a good girl, telling you how well you take him, how much he loves you.
And you really are starting to believe it.
“Cho- I'm gonna-”
“Do it then,” he says, “cum for me.”
When you finally cum, you cum hard. Your orgasm rolls over you like a wave, pulling you under, and spitting you back out wrong. Your body twitches, overcome with pleasure, riding out your orgasm on his cock. Exhaustion slowly sets in, leaving your limbs heavy, and your eyes struggling to stay open.
He’s not far behind, his thrusts growing unsteadier. His words of praise turn into babble, incoherent sentence fragments, mostly which consist of “I love you”s. He gives no warning when he’s about to cum, instead, making sure that you take every last drop of it. The cold feeling of his cum makes you shudder. It's not outright unpleasant, though it feels strange. He doesn't bother pulling out, only settling down beside you on the bed, softening cock still inside you. His arms wrap around you, pulling you flush to his chest.
Just what kind of mess have you gotten yourself into?
Part of you wishes for your roommate to stumble through the front door. Part of you is content in your lover's arms. Has anything really changed about your Choso? Would Yuji even help? He’s his brother after all.
Your limbs feel heavy, though your head feels light. Weightless. It's not a normal feeling. It's like you're drunk, but you haven't touched a drop of alcohol. His lips find your neck, lapping at the steady stream of blood from the reopened wound.
You’re completely helpless as you fall into the cold grasp of sleep.
CAUGHT ON FILM #2! — JJK MEN
SYNOPSIS...more nsfw twt links of the jjk men
INFO...jjk men x fem!bodied reader, women in the videos may be white skinned and light skinned but these videos are only to show how’d they fuck you, choking, cow girl, doggy, missionary, rough sex, oral (m & f receiving), spit, handjobs, fingering, overstim, bondage, praise, degradation, squirting, creampie, breeding, anal, sex toys
OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated
TOJI
pounding your pussy in the backseat of the car
choking you and spitting in your mouth while he fucks you from behind
teasing your pussy with the tip of his cock
making you squirt all over his dick while he cums in your pussy
he loves seeing your mascara run down your face
toji doesn’t like when you use condoms, you feel too good
GOJO
gojo watching in the mirror as you bounce on his cock
pulling your panties to the side and eating your pussy
using his fleshlight on him
you look so cute in your nightgown he just had to fuck you in it
he loves the way your ass bounces back on him
gojo getting needy and thrusting up into your hand
NANAMI
fucking you before the two of you go out on your date
pushing you up against the shower door and fucking you after a long day
cockwarming him in public but can’t help getting needy and moving your hips against his
eating your pussy until you cum and make a mess
choking you and making you rub yourself through your panties while he praises and reassures you
fingering you till you squirm
GETO
jerking him off while he fingers you
waking you up in the middle of the night cause he’s so needy
licking you through your panties
the two of you get a little distracted while watching a movie
geto thought it would be fun to try anal
sloppy head is the best head
SUKUNA
treating you like a whore while fucking your face
using your pussy for his own pleasure
using your tits to jerk himself off
fucking you rough against the couch after a bad day
breeding your cute little hole
he loves using toys on both of your holes until you’re shaking
HIGURUMA
grinding your ass against his hard cock, teasing him
guiding you up and down his cock
deciding to tie you up and fuck you from behind
holding you close to him while he whispers the nasty things he wants to do as he licks and sucks at your sensitive spots
playing with your pussy for his own enjoyment
spanking you for being a brat
CHOSO
rubbing your clothed pussy over his dick before he gets too needy and fucks you
he can’t help eating your pussy even after you’ve cum already
sitting on his face while he’s distracted on his phone
making out naked and getting touchy
breeding your pussy on your cute picnic date
making him cum through his underwear
tag list (comment to be added):
@kodzukein @inayasahin @mxchi-mxxn @vlsquuu @love-4-keum @thirtykiwis @viisgrave @bellefaerie @manifestis @oliviaissocool1 @prettyfacedream @bsi25 @zayn-210 @charbunxxi @nahoye @mistyheart @supernatrualqueen @lem-hhn @mimibesticon @fateisnotafactor @iwanttoberich420 @angelofthorr @honestlywtfisgoingon @araities @vampzity @spicynoodles23 @pinkbunnysblog @nn-hh192 @chrishak @keiva1000 @darkstarlight82 @brownbtch @70cosmo07 @sadmonke @notfancyrebelpaper @aydene
Call me 'Kyojuro': Female Reader X Kyojuro Rengoku Smut
Author note: I didn’t expect my first story to be so tame! I wanted to make something dirty featuring my anime husband, but I think because this is my first, I held back. Raunchy, steamy, inappropriate shit will definitely be written in the future!
Content warning: smut, oral performed on female character, touching of breasts, mentions of bodily fluids (nothing extreme), you also are very forward in your relationship with Rengoku. I don’t really align with self-inserts that make you shy or soft-spoken (depends on the character)…it’s just not my thing!
Word count: 3.2k
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Rengoku was by no means a prude, but his Hashira lifestyle—which consisted of demon-slaying and training on constant repeat—left little time for relationships.
But it was no surprise that he quickly became infatuated with you when you were introduced as the newest Hashira. Yes, you were cute, no, you were beautiful, but that wasn’t the only characteristic that drew him in. It was also the way you were so committed to improving your skills. You were clearly ambitious – working tirelessly day and night to be a better you than the version you were yesterday.
Rengoku recalled waking up early not long after you began your Hashira tenure, excited to start his usual training regime before the morning sun rose above the mountains and before the other Hashira started to stir. But when he approached the training grounds, he saw you practicing your movements with a sword in hand.
You were mouthing commands to yourself, “breathe, follow through, expect a parry.”
Rengoku watched you, quickly forgetting that he had his own training to begin. He was too engrossed by your commitment and passion to interrupt.
“I’m not one for an audience, ya know,” you shoot him a half-smile. You had noticed his presence but allowed the Flame Hashira to study you. As the newest Hashira, you hadn’t spoken up much. You simply observed during Hashira meetings, but you always found yourself interested in whatever Rengoku added to the conversation. Whenever he spoke up, his voice boomed over the others—and they listened. His points always centered on justice and protecting those who couldn’t defend themselves.
You were smitten on day one.
Rengoku’s body stiffened by your call out. He didn’t want you to feel like he was studying you, even if that was exactly what he was doing.
“Sorry! I was simply admiring your technique. And I must admit, I was surprised to find someone out here so early.”
You tilted your head to the side, the sweat that collected on your forehead from the exertion making its way down your cheek. “But you’re out here?”
Rengoku smiled softly as he acknowledged your quick rebuttal.
“Well, there’s more than enough space for us to both get our training in. Care to join me? I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in seeing what the Flame Hashira is capable of.” You palm the hilt of your blade nervously, hoping he would accept your offer not only because you were putting yourself out there but also because you wanted him to say yes.
Rengoku shoots you with a dazzling smile that makes your heart stutter.
“Let us get started then.”
In a matter of minutes, you and Kyojuro stared at each other from a respectful distance away, waiting for the other to make the first move—not wanting to be caught off guard, you strike first.
The Flame Hashira dodges you easily, but he doesn’t parry or clip you with his blunted weapon. In fact, many of his movements are a response to your attacks with no attempt at fighting back. You quickly grow frustrated. You had earned your place in the Hashira ranks. You slayed just as many demons as him and had plenty of the scars and trauma to prove it.
More of the same continues, with you stringing together elaborate attacks and him dodging.
You feel the vein in your temple begin to switch, your anger reaching a boiling point. “Demons go out of their way to target women, and you dare hold back against me?!” Your body goes slack as you turn your back towards him, sending a physical sign that you were concluding the training session.
Kyojuro flinches at your sudden emotional outburst, and because he hadn’t realized he was on the defensive with you—he certainly never held back with Shinobu or Mitsuri. For some reason, a reason deeper than he could comprehend at that moment, he didn’t want to hurt you.
“Wait!” Kyojuro takes a step towards you. “You are right to be upset with me, but I assure you that I mean no disrespect.”
You barely turn your head to look over your shoulder, “then fight me, Rengoku! Give me the chance to kick your ass, and if you pull that shit again, I’ll never speak to you again.”
Kyojuro contemplates your words and gives a curt nod. He gets into a battle pose and shoots a dazzling smile at you, “Very well! But please, call me Kyojuro.”
Your heart skips a beat. The sun still hasn’t begun to rise but his smile provides you all the light and warmth you could ever need.
“S-sure thing, Kyojuro.”
--------------
It didn’t take long until you and Kyojuro had a consistent training ritual together. With the Flam Hashira’s approval of your presence and his bragging about your abilities, the other Hashira began to accept you, too. Your nights, previously spent in your room in alone, were now occupied around a large dinner table where you all shared your meals.
“So, I’m just going to come out and say it as it wouldn’t be very flashy of me to keep my mouth shut,” Uzui begins as he sets his cup down.
Your eyes narrow at him as he turns his hulking body to face you. You like Uzui, but everyone at the dinner table quiets and stares at you—you don’t appreciate the extra attention.
“You and Rengoku are a thing, right?” You shoot him a horrified look as he brings his two pointer fingers together and touches them tip-to-tip.
Sanemi chortles at the ridiculous gesture.
You look at Rengoku, hoping that he’ll interject, but he’s quiet, observing you as a shade of pink quickly rises from his neck to his cheeks.
Sensing the awkwardness between you and Kyojuro, Shinobu interjects—to your relief.
“Leave them be. Mitsuri, tell us more about that salmon dish you spoke about earlier.”
With that, Mitsuri launches into an animated story about the new restaurant she had discovered. The other Hashira quickly lose interest in you and divert their attention to the Love Hashira. You look up at Kyojuro, fully prepared to see him also engrossed in Mitsuri’s story. Instead, he’s looking down at his half-eaten meal with a pensive look on his face.
Your heart aches as you watch him eventually rise, excuse himself from the table, and exit the dining room.
Before you can talk yourself out of it, you follow. And before you know it, you’re pushing his bedroom door open and closing it quietly behind you.
Kyojuro’s bright eyes look at you in surprise. “Oh, did I leave something at the table?”
You chew your bottom lip in frustration, your heart pounds in your ears, and anxiety begins to make your fingers twitch. You were uncharacteristically nervous being in front of him in his room. But you couldn’t help it because, in a matter of months, your feelings for Kyojuro had blossomed into intense feelings of wanting more from your friendship.
Kyojuro, sensing your inability to speak, rises slowly and approaches you. He takes your hands into his and stares into your own bright eyes.
“Please….say something. I know you were uncomfortable at dinner when Tengen spoke about our…friendship.” He paused slightly over the word friendship, letting it hang between you both as if it were heavy and wrong.
Fuck it
In a moment of bravery, you tilt your head up and press your lips against Kyojuro’s. You feel his muscles tense slightly at your unexpected advancement, but he doesn’t push you away, and for that, you are beyond thankful.
It isn’t long before he moves his hands up to cup your face, his lips, initially unmoving, now pressing firmly against your own. His longing for you is conveyed as his soft lips dance slowly with yours, his fingers gently stroking the soft skin of your cheek in small circles.
A moan escapes your lips. He’s such a fucking gentleman, you think to yourself.
When his lips part, you take the opportunity to slide your tongue in his mouth. Your eagerness makes Kyojuro’s head swirl, and his pants tighten in the crotch area. The room fills with the lewd sounds of your wet tongues mingling together as both of your arousal grows. There’s no space between your bodies as you press against one another, his solid chest pressing against your soft breasts and crotches grinding into one another, desperately trying to feel the friction despite the clothes you’re wearing.
You eventually break away from the kiss, both of your lidded eyes staring hungrily at each other and chests heaving rapidly.
Kyojuro speaks first, “Wow. Have you always felt this way about me?”
You roll your eyes in amusement at the innocent inflection in his tone. Your hands roam over his chest, “what do you think?”
Kyojuro beams at you, “then it is official—we are a couple!”
And true to his word, Kyojuro began to court you. You assumed little would change, and in a way, you were right. You and Kyojuro still trained with each other and accompanied each other on missions, but there were other instances where your relationship was different. If Rengoku went on a mission without you, he’d bring something back that caught his eye and reminded him of you. Soon, you had to purchase a small jewelry box to hold all the beautiful adornments he had gifted you. When it was time for meals—Kyojuro would offer you his lunch and swoon when you ate from his utensils.
“Eat up, my love! We must maintain the fire in your soul; the best way to do that is with a quality meal!”
You appreciated the sentiment—even if your meals were far more flavorful than his. Your heart warmed at how much and how deeply he cared for you.
--------------
During a rare training break, Kyojuro perched under a large tree and watched you spar with Sanemi. He felt uneasy as Sanemi fought you aggressively and without holding himself back. You had requested him to give his all as you did with every Hashira, but it still made Kyojuro nervous about the possibility of you getting hurt.
“When were you planning on thanking me?”
Kyojuro looked up to find his colleague Tengen gloating—an arrogant smirk gracing his features. Kyojuro gave him a quizzical look, unsure how to respond to a question he didn’t quite understand.
Tengen let an exasperated—and characteristically dramatic—sigh escape his lips. He crouched and rested a hand on Kyojuro’s shoulder, “Tell me, my fiery friend. Have you both consummated the relationship?”
Kyojuro’s body stiffened at the question. He felt it to be intrusive—even by Tengen’s standards.
Sensing his friend's tight-lipped demeanor and tense body language, Tengen lowered his voice.
"Fair. I never took you as one to kiss and tell. But let me leave you with sage advice as someone with his fair share of experience with women.”
Kyojuro looked at his friend expectantly. He wanted to seem uninterested, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious. You both had shared many nights cuddling and kissing had become increasingly more intense. It was becoming more challenging for Kyojuro to control himself as his hands explored your clothed body, his cock growing—almost painfully—in his pants. Some nights when you were away from each other, he’d imagine himself gingerly taking your clothes off, drinking in your body and curves like a man desperate for a taste. He’d imagine settling himself between your plush thighs and pushing his throbbing cock into your warm and welcoming mess of a cunt. On those lonely nights, Kyojuro would touch himself to the thought of you, his large hand sliding into his pants and stroking himself. His eyes would roll back as he tugged at himself with pitiful desperation at the idea of having you.
But while Kyojuro was satisfied with making love with you in the way that he knew how, he wasn’t sure if you’d be fully satisfied. So he looked at his friend, ready to accept his perverse advice.
--------------
Your muscles ached as you dragged yourself to Kyojuro’s room. You had almost fallen asleep during your bath—Sanemi’s training session with you was intense, and you had quite a bit of bruises to show for it. You were looking forward to attaching your body to Kyo’s and drifting off, but you soon forgot about any semblance of sleep as you entered the room.
Kyojuro was sifting his hands through his barely dry hair as he had also recently returned from his bath. His bare, muscular chest still had a few droplets of water that would more than likely evaporate soon. A towel loosely hung around his waist, and a noticeable bulge strained against the white fabric in a way that made you blush. Kyojuro looked over his shoulder at you and beamed. “My love, you are right on time. There is something I wanted to speak to you about!”
Your eyes stay glued to the bulge now pointing, no, beckoning aggressively at you. Please let there be a sudden gust—give me a peak.
Kyojuro continues, “I want you to be satisfied with me, so I received advice today on how to—.” You interrupt Kyojuro with a sharp glance, your own intense eyes meeting his.
“Kyo, no offense, but we haven't even done anything yet. You don’t really need to worry about that right now, and honestly, I’m a bit scared to ask who you received advice from.”
Kyojuro approaches you, his previously tense shoulders now relaxed at the sound of your shorthand version of his name. He cups your cheeks and looks at you with soft eyes, “You’re right. I was getting ahead of myself.”
You smile sweetly up at him; one of your fingers finds the hem of his towel and pulls. Kyojuro gasps as he’s now fully unclothed in front of you. His cock bobs up and down at the lack of fabric holding it back. You purr and grasp him in your palm, feeling the taut muscle throb excitedly.
Kyojuro licks his lips as his half-lidded eyes look down at you—his breath noticeably harsher and quicker as you stroke him. “You sure?”
You snort—not very ladylike—but a response to an obvious question nonetheless.
Kyojuro peels your clothes off your freshly cleaned body. He groans as his eyes take in all of your curves—they’re somehow even better than what he imagined. He raises a hand to palm your breast in his hand, his fingers gently pinching and tugging at your hardening nipple. Your mouths find each other again, with an intense hunger, each of your tongues battling for dominance.
Kyojuro pulls away, “I must taste you.”
You give him a quick nod, wondering what he means as you both were doing just that, weren’t you? But you quickly understand what he meant when he picks you up, his strong arms lifting you on his shoulders.
You let out a slight squeal as you feel the floor beneath your feet disappear, and your thighs become Kyo’s new earmuffs. He takes a long sniff of your cunt, breathing in your distinct smell, his mouth watering with excitement. He licks your sensitive folds, a shiver shooting up and down your spine, as the Flame Hashira suckles at your southern lips.
“Mmm, she’s so pretty.” Slurp “so wet” Slurp “so tasty.” Slurp
Soon, the room fills with the sounds of his suckling and your gasps. You want to roll your hips against his mouth desperately, but the position he has you in has you pressed against the wall, and any attempt to buck your hips may result in your ass hitting the floor.
Kyojuro slides his tongue past your folds, his mouth now making out with your clit. Your juices and Kyojuro’s saliva drip down his chin. He moans into your pussy, the taste of you making him stroke his pulsing cock with one hand. Your thighs begin to squeeze around his head as you feel warmth spread in your lower stomach. “Baby, I’m going to cum,” your eyes roll back as you release your sweetness down his throat. Kyojuro shudders at how good you taste and how good he makes you feel.
“Put me down,” you order as you briefly regain your senses. Kyojuro obliges, eyeing you hungrily, his hand still stroking himself with his precum, lubricating the now sensitive skin.
“I want you to ruin me,” you say as you stumble to the middle of the room where the bed is. As you turn to face him, Kyojuro is already on you; he eagerly pushes you down and spreads your thighs. He grunts at the sign of your messy and hungry pussy, the sign of his worshipping tongue still evident on your moist folds.
You gasp as he’s pushing the fat head of his cock inside of you.
“Mmmm, she’s so hungry and eager, love.” Kyojuro pushes his full girth inside of you, letting out a groan and collapsing on top of you.
You moan and wrap your legs around his toned waist as he rolls his hips slowly into you. Kyojuro is sensual and careful with his movements despite you being able to tell that it’s taking quite a bit of self-control for him not to pound you mercilessly. As he dives into you, your senses are suddenly overwhelmed with the sound of your pussy squelching as his cock fills you up, the smell of your sex, and the sight of Kyojuro’s pleasure-filled expression gracing his features. He leans down and takes your nipple into his mouth, biting gently at your sensitive skin. It stings in a way that makes your pussy clench around his cock.
Kyojuro groans, “Please forgive me. You feel too good.”
You drag your hands through his hair as you buck your hips against his, trying to match his movements. You want every inch of him to touch every inch of you.
“Don’t be gentle, Kyo. I can handle it.”
Kyojuro shudders at your invitation to ruin you. His pace quickens, now hard, and loud slapping sounds fill every corner of the room, his heavy and full balls smacking against your ass. You desperately want to open up and close yourself all at once—everything you’re feeling intense and overstimulating.
Kyojuro is being vocal with his approval of you and how you’re taking him in, “O-oh my god, you’re pussy feels like it was m-made for me…!” He grips your thighs with his strong hands, the tips of his fingers turning white as he digs his nails into your flesh. In a quick movement, he pushes your legs further back until he’s squatting on top of you, your thighs pressed against his as he pounds his cock into your needy cunt.
You—no longer caring about how loud you are—let out deep guttural moans. You desperately reach for something to grab, and your hands find Kyojuro’s hair. You grip his thick mane at his scalp and pull. You’re not sure if the position is impeding your breathing or if it’s your moans not allowing you time to suck in adequate air; regardless, you feel as though you might pass out.
“You take my dick so well,” Kyojuro compliments as his hand finds your clit and rubs it in circular motions with his thumb.
Drool drips out of the corners of your mouth as Kyojuro’s thrusts only get harder and more animalistic.
Kyojuro grunts, feeling himself getting close as the intense fire in his abdomen burns more and more, “stick out your tongue, my flame!”
Your tongue lolls out your mouth for him, and your eyes roll back as he sucks your tongue into his mouth; you moan in adoration as he sucks and bites on your tongue, wanting to taste every bit of you.
Your pussy clenches and grasps at his cock as you release against him. The death grip of your cunt begging, pleading, and welcoming every drop of inevitable seed that he can give you.
Kyojuro groans loudly as he erupts, shooting hot seed inside of you, “A-ah, here it comes, ohhhhh.”
Kyojuro rests his forehead against your shoulder, the intense wave of your and his pleasure rolling through you both. You plant a kiss against his lips.
“Was that…good?” He mumbles against you.
“So good,” you whisper as you grip him tightly. You can feel his heart beating quickly against your chest. As his love oozes out of you and onto your sheets, you both drift off, gripping one another.
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