Call Me Baby

— THE FOOL ; KYOJURO RENGOKU ; 煉獄

summary: all you wanted was to pass out in your room, but no. here you are, dragging yourself (quite literally) up the mountainside to the ubuyashiki mansion's onsen. pairing: kyojuro rengoku / f!hashira!reader wc: 3.6k tags: set-pre season 1, rated T, hashira dynamics, kyojuro's impeccable manners, tengen uzui is a son of a bitch, good fluff, embarrassed flirting, slightly forbidden romance, retable reader insert who just wants to be left alone to bathe in peace a/n: don't look at me.

Your bones are tired. 

Not just your bones — but every ounce of marrow in those very bones. The expression 'bone tired'? Yea, it was written and smithed with you in mind. Tonight, you're the muse for true exhaustion — battered, bruised, and barely hanging on. 

The short walk up to the Ubuyashiki Mansion's onsen is proving formidable. 

Every muscle in your body aches and with each step closer, you pray you'll have a moment of quiet peace to yourself. After all, Shinobu insisted (read as threatened) that you soak in the hot spring after administering simple medical aid post-mission. 

Something, something, hot spring stimulates blood flow, blah, blah, strong healing properties.

All you wanted was to pass out in your room, but no. Here you are, dragging yourself (quite literally) up the mountainside through the willows of wisteria on a lantern-lit path to the hot spring.

Your geta catches on a root and you trip up, scoffing tiredly as you catch yourself and grumble a curse. Ow. Irritation simmers under your skin, and you wonder absently what's gotten into you. 

It normally takes more for you to be so... cranky. And openly so.

When you reach the gate of the onsen, your eye twitches.

Son of a —

There's Hashira abound tonight. 

"Look who's back from her little foray out East!"

Did Tengen need to be so loud? 

All the damn time?

The small, dimly lit spot is surrounded by wisteria and maple. The gravel crunches beneath your feet as you sigh and shut the red gate behind you, paying careful mind not to catch your fingers in the latch. Lanterns are perched on rocks, candles only beginning to run with wax in the evening air. The open-air bath overlooks the sprawling estate down the mountain. 

You sigh deeply from your chest, your eyes practically at half-mast when you turn around to snipe Tengen with an unamused look.

"Our dear Dream Hashira... you look like shit," comes the rogue commentary, "No offense, beautiful."

Tengen is at the far edge of the steaming bath with both arms outstretched along the edge. As always, he's taking up as much space as humanly possible. His silver hair hangs about his shoulders — and he even goes so far as to pin you with a rogueish smile. You stare flatly at him in response.

Then: the middle finger. 

"Woof. Tough crowd tonight," he rumbles as he slides a look towards a decidedly uninterested Sanemi. The Wind Hashira has his head hung back against the edge with a towel over his forehead — his eyes are closed. If you didn't know any better, you'd assume he was asleep. 

"Tengen, do me a favor," comes the gritted reply from the scarred man, "and shut the hell up." 

You motion plainly to Sanemi — the gesture says thank you — with your brows raising in silent agreeance. Even the act of speaking right now is all too much. 

"I must agree with Tengen," comes the wistful and soft voice of Muichiro Tokito as he lifts his chin from its submerged position; his hair is swimming about him. The Mist Hashira looks... almost peaceful; but his words are damning, "You do look like shit."

Somehow it's worse when Tokito says it.

That makes Sanemi lift his head and pry one eye open. 

You serve him an unenthused look from your spot by the benches. You hope for a bit of sympathy, but instead:

"...What the fuck happened to you?" comes his dry response to your current state of being. 

Which — fine, maybe it's fair. The others rarely ever see you in any state aside from perfect. You're meticulous about your appearance; from your uniform to your posture, you value perfection over all else. The devil that has always haunted you is the details. Perhaps it was your rigid upbringing, but regardless—

"Ah!" suddenly, there's a resoundingly warm voice booming across the small courtyard from the onsen's koshitsu, "I see you've returned, Lady— Oh... my, are you quite alright...?"

You've got to be kidding me.

Kyojuro Rengoku's face is twisted into genuine worry. He's standing in the middle of the path, his focus entirely on you. His hair is undone and the sunburst strands are spilling along his chest and back. There's a small cotton towel slung around his narrow waist. You purposefully level your eyes with his, not daring to let your gaze waver — and then you curse Kocho Shinobu a thousand times over for sending you here.  

(Tengen is smirking. You want to throw your sandal at his head.)

Finally, you speak. 

"I'm fine." 

You don't sound fine. You sound like a woman who'd endured being unceremoniously whipped about by a snake Demon in a swamp for three hours before she could finally land a killing blow. 

Kyojuro frowns. His eyes — like two gems of carnelian — are nearly glowing with concern. Those dark brows of his knit and you try to grit out a tight smile. It fails. It looks more like a wince than anything.

It's... pathetic.

"Perhaps a soak will help," the Flame Hashira offers gently. His tone is soft with pity.

Shit. Fuck. Damn it. Fucking Shinobu, fucking hot spring, fucking swamp demon, fucking—

Right. Right, a soak. It's the thing that Tengen Uzui is somehow singlehandedly making more unbearable — he's dragging Sanemi and Muichiro by the necks from the onsen — by leaving you alone with Rengoku. 

"Go on you two! We're just leaving anyways, right fellas?"

"Die," you spit hoarsly in his direction; your expression is flat.

Tengen throws you a wink. "Relax a little, pretty. You deserve it!"

You could still hit him with your geta. Maybe if you put enough force behind it, it could kill him. 

After all, he's been doing this ever since you let it slip about your little crush. 

And just when a girl thinks she can trust an ex-shinobi... never again. You don't care if Tengen is the one offering to buy the sake, you're never drinking with that man again. He's a gossip and a whore. A gossiping whore. A devoted husband-whore who gossips like no-fucking-other. 

Admitting to Tengen Uzui's stupid face that you've been avoiding Kyojuro Rengoku because of your feelings was the second worst mistake you ever made.

Your first worst mistake was not dragging your sorry ass back down the mountain after you and Kyojuro were left alone in the onsen. 

At least — at the very least — it's quieter now, even if the silence feels oddly intimate. 

You're thankful Kyojuro has retreated into the water of the bath; the distance allows you to ignore the burning pit in your gut at the thought of him and you together. In the onsen. Alone.

You've bathed alongside the other Hashira before. The whole lot of you are warriors. There's no shame in the body — and admittedly, you grew up around konyoku onsen in Tokyo. 

It wasn't the nakedness that was the problem. 

...Maybe it was a little bit of the nakedness. 

But, mostly the fact it's Kyojuro Rengoku: the kindest man you've ever met, a man whose smile is nearly as bright as the morning sun, a man whose laugh feels like a summer thunderstorm. A man who is tall, strong, and handsome. It's no small secret he's well-loved among the ranks; respected, admired, sought after... Who wouldn't make an attempt atcatching his eye? After all, he's capable, swift, courageous, honorable—

Having a heart attack.

He's having a heart attack.

I mean — it's you. And him. Alone. 

...Naked. And alone.

He himself could have strangled Tengen when the ex-shinobi scurried off, leaving him here — though he'd never admit it. That sneaky bastard is fully aware of Kyojuro's feelings towards you, and Kyojuro swears the Sound Hashira gets off on forcing him to confront the very thing he forbids himself to even dwell upon. 

Your voice pulls him from his enraptured internal monologue.

"I am fine," you break the silence as your fingers work at the obi around your waist in nervousness. Your back is to him, and as the grey kimono slips down your shoulders, he panics, "I swear."

"I'm not sure I've ever seen you in such a state as this," he tries to sound level, confident, as he turns in the water; suddenly the mountainside is very beautiful. Yes, very nice. Very... mountain-y. 

Kyojuro's eyes flick over his shoulder briefly, back at you.

He sees skin. More of your skin than he's ever seen. There are dimples at the base of your spine. Good god. He swallows tightly and turns his gaze forward once more. 

Even the act of shrugging your kimono off is enough to make you rasp. The ribs Shinobu had been so concerned about are protesting now. It's fine. Everything is fine. You peek over your shoulder. Relief floods you as you realize Rengoku's back is turned. 

Quickly, you slip into the onsen. It's the quickest you've moved all night. 

You plunge in deep, ignoring the burn of the water along of the more raw marks and bruises bitten into your skin. Your ribs wail in protest as you inhale sharply at the heat, and you try your best to coach your expression into unwavering when Kyojuro turns back around. 

"Better?"

All you can do is grunt from your submerged position.

That makes him laugh.

You try to memorize the warm sound and tuck it neatly into your heart. It's cute, the way his eyes scrunch when he laughs. You find yourself staring for a second before swallowing down your affections.

"Shinobu demanded I come," you explain slowly, lifting your hands and playing with the surface of the water, "If I had it my way, I'd be in bed."

Or murdering Tengen in his sleep.

"The hot springs are good for healing," Kyojuro chirps brightly, canting his head as he speaks almost as if he's going to reprimand you. His voice drops an octave, "You know that, Lady Hashira."

He's teasing you.

He's — he's seriously teasing you.

You're naked and he's teasing you.

You sink a little lower into the water and narrow your eyes at him — the act makes you look a bit like an angry, wet cat. Kyojuro can only grin. Truly this is rare form for you. Your disposition is usually sunny, if not well-manicured and mindfully well-mannered. You are every bit a Lady Hashira. Moreso than Shinobu or Mitsuri in a way. 

You are the Dream Pillar, after all, and a woman composed purely of romanticism in his eyes. It's the way he could see you, in another life, in a fine silk kimono and delicate make-up; he could see you in gold and pearls, pouring tea worth more than his monthly salary into fine ceramic cups. Suitors abound.

Though, perhaps that's not so different than now.

Not with the way you're delicately pouring yourself a helping of Tengen's abandoned sake at the edge of the onsen. You'd think it was the most expensive liquor in the land with the care you take to not spill a drop. 

You slide him a hesitant look over your shoulder, the water lapping at your bruised back. Kyojuro lifts a brow.

"What?" you ask, feigning innocence as you turn back to the task at hand, "It'd be a shame if it went to waste."

"I didn't know sake had healing properties," Kyojuro offers slowly, his lips twitching upwards as he watches you take a long sip from the cup.

"Something, something, blood flow," you murmur mostly to yourself, tossing back the rest with a scowl and a wince, "I'm sure Shinobu would agree."

Kyojuro leans back against the wall, sinking a little deeper as he settles onto the seat beneath the water. The ends of his hair are soaked, turning an even darker shade of crimson. His shoulders flex as he relaxes his arms against the stones. 

His own body is tired. Beneath the water, he absently stretches his legs and pays careful mind to the twinge of pain in his left knee.

"Whether she agrees or disagrees is none of my business," he supplies diplomatically.

You reach for the jug, giving it a light shake. It's nearly empty anyway. 

You extend it, offering it to Kyojuro.

The Flame Hashira shakes his head. "No thank you. I reserve drink for special occasions only."

You quirk a brow. Your tone is light. Airy, almost. "I didn't know that about you."

He hums. You place the sake down, sink lower into the water, and try to focus on his face — not the strength in his forearms, nor the water running in rivets down his chest. 

"My father has quite a love for the stuff," he admits with a controlled frown, "I avoid it when I can."

Ah. 

Right. 

Your own father, also a retired Hashira, voiced many a feeling about Shinjuro Rengoku when he was given the chance. You'd visited home months ago and when you mentioned serving alongside Kyojuro, his eyes narrowed dangerously and impeccably sharp. His tongue lashed out at you — as if you were the retired Flame Pillar himself. 

There's a history there, it seems.

"I apologize."

"Don't," he says; firm yet soft.

"It is better that way, really," you mumble in an attempt to soothe the ache you can see across his face, "Liquor leads to making many a fool."

Kyojuro's brow quirks. "You sound as though you're speaking from experience."

"Perhaps," you say slyly, wandering to the far end of the pool. You're nearly submerged to your nose, "A lady shall never tell."

"And if I asked Tengen?"

"You wouldn't dare." The water splashes as you whip around and glare — though Kyojuro senses no real malice. 

It was no small secret you'd been dragged through the mud after you and Tengen's night on the town. Why the Master called a meeting that morning was beyond you, but there's a part of you that wonders if he was slightly amused at your less-than-pleasant state. You swore you were going to puke all over the engawa when you bowed — never mind the fact the morning sun's brightness was enough to nearly drill your brain into a pulp. 

Kyojuro had never seen you so... disheveled. 

Second to tonight, that is.

The Flame Hashira smirks. "If the lady forbades it, then who am I to ignore her wishes?"

Fucking Tengen, fucking Shinobu, fucking Kyojuro—

Fucking honorable, respectable, polite Kyojuro.

"Well, this lady does forbade it," you say with narrowed eyes, "So there."

"You really are in rare form this evening."

He's smirking. That's new.

"Yes, well," you mumble as you lull your head back and wet the rest of your hair; the warmth seeps through the strands and feels soothing on your scalp. You already feel better. Less like a swamp demon's plaything, more like a girl trying her best not to let her petal-mouthed feelings slip out, "We can blame Muzan Kibutsuji for that."

"I surmise it has been a difficult day?" he rumbles quietly from his spot in the onsen.

"You haven't the slightest idea."

"Care to enlighten me?" 

"And embarrass myself?" she mutters, splashing absently, "I'd prefer to remain capable in your eyes, Rengoku. I'll spare you the details. And anyone else who asks."

He's grinning. That sort that appears in an optimist's dream. Bright, sunny and so enrapturing it feels like your heart is being scorched by its warmth. 

"Your capability will never waver in my eyes," Kyojuro supplies as he flicks the water absently; his gaze has fallen to the sway of the wisteria in the evening air, "You are amazing. One particularly bad day does not diminish that fact."

Maybe it's the sake. Maybe it's the compliment. Either way, the tips of your ears feel warm. 

That little, nibbling feeling is back in his chest. The very one he's been trying his best to ignore for months. 

"You are only being kind," you mutter, "Because, as the other's made very clear, I look like shit." 

Kyojuro finds himself smiling a bit at the jest — his fingers glide along the top of the water, tracing idly patterns into it as he watches you sink deeper and deeper into the hot spring. Finally, for a moment, you descend below the surface.

Then, you break the surface slowly. Your hair is swimming around you, clinging to your bare shoulders. You exhale, brush water from your lashes, and inhale. You look... beautiful. A different sort of beautiful than he's used to. This sort of beauty is relaxed. Tired. You seem a bit freer than usual — unrestrained by the image you aim to keep well protected amongst the others. 

Kyojuro sinks a little deeper himself.

He's still watching you.

Your eyes find his. 

There's a moment where all you two can do is blink — Flame and Dream mingling for a breath beneath the stars. Wide eyes bound by a moment of silence, a moment of hesitation. He feels like all the breath has been swept from his lungs. All Kyojuro can do is stare into your eyes.

Then, he speaks.

Blurts, more aptly.

"You are beautiful."

...Did he just say that? 

Your lips part in quiet shock.

Suddenly, his posture is more rigid, and his expression a bit panicked — perhaps because your own eyes widen a mile at the words that spill from his mouth. Kyojuro raises his hands as he inhales sharply, the heat of the bath inching a degree hotter. Whether it's from the sudden admission or a misfire of his breathing technique, you're unsure. 

His cheeks are hot. He leans forward, shaking his head.

Damn you, Tengen. Damn you, damn you—

"I-I simply mean — you... You do not look like shit—" He attempts to explain.

"Oh—"

"Yes, yes, I—"

"Thank you," you say quickly, trying to calm your own racing heart as he swallows down a bought of embarrassment and offers a pained smile your way. It's enough to quell his panic.

"Of course," he breathes out, sagging a bit deeper into the water as he fiddles with his hands. He has a habit of rubbing at his callouses. Kyojuro swallows, then hoarsly admits: "One might think that I was drinking the sake with the way I'm making a fool of myself."

Your laugh is like a balm. 

"Hardly," you offer as you sink into the water with a smile; your eyes are glimmering with something a bit mischievous as you swim towards the water's edge. You pause, then slip a look his way over your bare shoulder, "...Do you mean it?"

"That I'm a fool? Of course."

You scoff quietly. Kyojuro's smile is tight — knowing. 

Then, he speaks warmly and kindly. He confirms your question with ease. His arms are wound across his chest. "You are truly beautiful. The most beautiful woman I have ever had the grace to lay eyes upon, my Lady." 

Maybe you could drown yourself here. 

You're not entirely sure how you'll ever recover from this — not from how tender he says it, not from how honest his words sound. So suddenly you feel as though he's hung every star in the sky for your eyes only, having wished upon them, time and time again, for nothing more than a moment of your time. It's reverent is what it is.

You're about to open your mouth and say something when a bright, girlish giggle cuts through the tension—

Kyojuro Rengoku has never been more thankful for Mitsuri Kanroji's ill timing. Behind her is Lady Shinobu. 

The pink and green-haired Hashira is ecstatic to find both yourself and Rengoku in the hot spring — her delight is palpable as she waves her arms and cheers brightly into the air. Her crow caws overhead. Her darker-haired counterpart levels them both with polite smiles.

"Oh, this is just lovely! My friends!" she's chirping as she closes the gate, "I am so glad to see you both back safe and sound—"

"Heading my advice, it seems," Shinobu says slowly — almost like she knows something you don't. Her pale, lilac eyes flick between you and Rengoku. For a moment, you almost suspect she's about to ask something.

"How are you feeling?" Mitsuri cries in your direction, shrugging her kimono off with ease — unbothered entirely by Rengoku's presence. The two are like brother and sister, and Mitsuri has never batted an eye about nudity, "How are your ribs?"

Kyojuro levels you with a look. 

You offer a sheepish grin. 

"Yes," Shinobu mutters as she slips out of her geta, "Four broken ribs."

Kyojuro's nostrils flare. "You said nothing about the sort."

You lift your chin in defiance. "I told you I was sparing you the details."

Mitsuri's bright eyes dart between the two of you — a little bit of giddiness blooming at the sight of Kyojuro looking so worried about their fellow Dream Hashira. 

He slides a look towards Kocho. Then rolls his shoulders. With a sigh, he moves to stand, the water lapping at his waist. You decidedly find the edge of the onsen very interesting as you try to coach yourself through the overwhelming urge to stare. 

"I trust you'll monitor her condition, Kocho," he murmurs as he moves through the water; the words sit nicely in your heart and you feel a little pride swell at his indication that he cares if you're alright, "I'll let you ladies have some time amongst yourselves."

You catch his eyes for a second. A moment. A lingering little breath that mingles between you — like Kocho and Mitsuri aren't there. Then, he stepped from the bath and gathered his robe.

For now, the two of you will pretend earlier never happened.

For now.

Just a little thing between the two of you — and suddenly, you're not so cranky. Once the muse for exhaustion, you're now the muse of lovesickness. 

When the gate closes behind Kyojuro, Kocho speaks.

"...What was all that?"

Nevermind. The crankiness is back.

"Shut up."

On the wrestling to grinding w/ best friend Kyo, your head resting on his forearm as he's leaning on his elbow above you, other hand on your hip. Wet kisses trailed up your neck and his hot breath fanning across your cheek. Every now and then there's a particularly rough thrust as he murmurs apologies in your ear. This isn't how he wanted it to go with you but he can't bring himself to stop

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : nsfw, best friend!kyojuro rengoku, fem!reader, modern au, slight size kink, play wrestling -> dry humping pipeline, premature ejaculation. sub!kyojuro implied but the dynamic isn't too prominent in this one.

A TV drama debate quickly turned into playful shoving, which naturally turned into roughhousing, a common practice between you and the man you've known since you could walk. The show is paused in the background, illuminating your bodies in the darkness of your living room as you wrestle on the couch you were previously cuddling on.

You continue to argue over the protagonist's love life, though you put too much weight into a lunge, sending both of you tumbling onto the floor. Ouch. 

“Oof!” Kyojuro grunts, the wind temporarily knocked out of him as his back meets the carpet, and your body follows, falling atop his. 

He rolls over, caging your body beneath his, undeterred by the tumble and you're reminded of just how big he is. He isn't the gangly teen you remember pushing around anymore, but a grown man. It's difficult to reconcile that dorky teen with the pile of muscle he's become. Jeez, when did he bulk up so much? And as you clutch uselessly at his bulging biceps to shove him off you, you can't help but feel him up a little longer than necessary.

Kyojuro's warm weight atop you is all-consuming, sapping the strength from your limbs his body heat melts into yours. Still, you twist in his hold, ignoring the fluttering in your chest to capture him in a headlock. He knocks your arms out of the way, hands sliding beneath you to grip your shoulders, and one of his muscled thighs hooking beneath yours to prevent you from kicking.

You huff, unable to do much but squirm. And squirm you do, never one to give up. 

He loves your fire almost as much as he loves the way you pout when you lose. Before he can gloat, your hips shift over his groin at just the right angle. Kyojuro's bulge is almost perfectly lodged between your thighs, the warmth between them radiating through your clothing. His breath hitches, muscles tensing in response before a violent shudder overtakes him. 

Though he fights to regain control of himself, his cock throbs in his pants, and Buddha he hopes you can't feel him getting hard. You'd tease him endlessly for it, he's sure of it.

Get a hold of yourself, Kyojuro. His eyes pinch shut, cheeks ruddy with warm blood as he feels his body fill with fire. When his golden eyes re-open, he's met with an expression on your face that nearly makes him moan aloud. 

Your brows are twisted in concentration, perhaps to hide how flustered you are by his proximity. Your lips parted slightly, chest heaving from the exertion of your scuffle. Buddha forgive him, his body moves without thought, hips rutting against yours. His swelling erection drags deliciously over your clothed cunt, eliciting a deep rumbling groan that vibrates his whole chest.

Your nails prick into his back, leaving behind red crescent moons on his skin and fuck that feels good too.

Kyojuro murmurs a slurred apology, dipping his head down as his shame paints his cheeks red. Even as he apologizes his hips won't stop, and the feeling of his warm breath on your throat makes you shiver. The shock of the realization that your best friend is humping you leaves you gaping stupidly, and for some reason, you don't tell him to stop. 

You don't punch his shoulder and laugh it off, only stare with widening pupils as the blond all but ruts his hardness against you like an overeager puppy. Why is this so hot? Wrong in many ways obviously, but it’s intoxicating nonetheless to see him unraveling this way. And God, his cock, even through his joggers you can feel how thick he is.

“Kyo,” you began, a protest on the tip of your tongue but your breath hitches as his lips meet the tender flesh of your neck. "K-kyojuro, what are you doing...”

“I can't stop. I'm sorry, I unnnh,” Kyojuro nearly whines, his hand sliding down from your shoulder to grip your hip as his enthusiastic thrusts start to shove you across the floor. "You feel so good.”

“Don't say things like that, idiot,” you hiss, though even as you scold him, you can feel yourself getting slick. His leaking tip nudges your clit just right and you can't stop the soft sound of approval from escaping, nor your legs from locking around his bucking hips. "Fuck, don't stop.”

His cock twitches, aching against your pussy as your perceived acceptance of his desperate act sends him into a frenzy. His weight presses further onto yours, trapping you between his heavy body and the floor. When you toss your head back, his forearm cushions it.

“Love you. Love you – ohh.”

This isn't how he wanted this to go, how he's always imagined himself confessing his feelings for you. But he can't deny either of you this maddening friction, every single rational thought stolen away by your gasping moans.

“Can feel how big you are. Shit, c’mere.”

Your fingers wind in his flaxen hair, gathering it in your fist close to his scalp and tugging his head away from your neck to slant your lips over his. Your clumsy kiss is electric, all he’s ever imagined it would be and not enough all at once, and his hips stutter against yours. He shakes all over, eyes rolling back with a choked cry into your mouth as he abruptly cums in his pants.

“Sorry, I’m… fuuuck,” he whimpers against your lips, the feeling of your tongue slipping past his parted lips forcing another spurt out of him. “Ah. Hmm, wow.”

His half-lidded, apologetic gaze meets yours, a bead of sweat dripping down his hairline.

“What the fuck,” you start, half-chuckling half in disbelief of what just happened. His face burns with the humiliation of not only humping his best friend like some pervert but also blowing his load from you kissing him, like a loser. Before he can apologize again, he takes in your dilated pupils and the way your hips still undulate beneath his heavy weight. “That was so hot.”

In his post-orgasmic haze, he can only groan in response, pressing his face into your shoulder.

“And pathetic,” you teased, and for some reason his softening cock twitches. And of course you notice, because he’s still slotted against your cunt, which is no doubt a sloppy mess of your own slick beneath your clothes. You hadn’t cum, but you hardly care, still on cloud nine from simply watching your favorite person unravel.

“So cruel,” he huffs, nipping at your shoulder in retaliation. 

“You like it. A bit too much apparently– yeowch!” another, harder bite follows, and you erupt in giggles as his thick digits dig into your sides, tickling you. “Touchy. Now are you gonna get up and let me fuck you properly, or are you too tuckered out, pretty boy?”

The way he scrambles off of you and starts pulling at his clothes is way too cute.

a farewell to summer

Extra goal unlocked and with that we have completed nanami crushes things 2024

laios in ep 15

NSFW Alphabet ft. Yandere! Rengoku

& Afab! Darling

18+

Wanted to make more yandere Rengoku content so I did that smut alphabet thats been going around

Warnings: Smut, Suggested Non-con/Dub-con, Sex, Oral, Implied Anal, Toys, Breeding kink, ect. ect.

-

-

-

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Man is spent. He’s never half-assed anything, so by the end of the rut, he’s already panting hard and dripping with sweat. Honestly, the quality of the aftercare varies from day to day (and depending on his mood.) If he’s up for it, he may take the time to clean you off with a wet cloth, wipe away all the cum from your cunt and rub some ointment on any bruises or bites. But most nights are spent dripping with nut and warming his cock, clutched to his chest like a vice. He can always clean you up in the morning anyway.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Your tits.  He likes looking at them. He likes holding them. He likes feeling them. He loves sucking on them. It just makes him feel so… safe. Now if you were producing milk at the time, there would be no separating the two. But he loves the rest of your body as well, he just has a fascination with your rack specifically.

As for himself, he enjoys his own chest as well. He enjoys keeping you close to sleep on it, feeling your breath near his heart, praying that the organ can somehow coerce you to be as obsessed with him as he is you. But besides the metaphorical reasoning, he knows his pecs are soft and wants you to lay on them like a pillow.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

If he were to play that word association game and his word were to be “cum”, his immediate answer would be “cunt”. His brain is set to maximum primal instinct. If he sees your pussy, he’s gonna cum inside it, and he comes a lot. If you were under some previous assumption that he’d cum just anywhere, that’s on you, darling. If he’s gonna cum, it's gonna be in your sweet, tight, warm pussy, right where it belongs. Sure, he’ll shoot the occasional load in your mouth or ass, but he’s always scooping some up and shoving it up your snatch, pressing it into your walls and fantasizing about your egg accepting his sperm. It should be pretty obvious why.

He wants every drop locked inside of you, keeping all his little babies warm while he panders you with attention and love. If the purpose of semen is to impregnate a womb, why would he want it anywhere else? Look at the bigger picture here.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

It turns him on to see you cry. He doesn’t mean to! The last thing he would ever want is for you to be upset or hurt, but something about seeing you so pathetic and vulnerable does something to him. He finds himself “accidentally” being too rough with you, “accidentally” hurting your feelings, “accidentally” neglecting you. Oh, you look so pretty when you sob, fat tears pooling down your red cheeks like drops of rain on a window. And it just winds him up all over again. He can always cheer you up afterward, right?

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s not too experienced, but he’s sampled here or there. Truth be told, he wasn’t all too big on the idea of sex before you. The act itself was just to pass the time, maybe relieve some stress. He’d never met someone he’d imagined settling down with before, and that made sex a bit… disappointing. Until he met you of course. Kyojuro made sure to do some more research before he swept you away. Studies, videos, books, you name it. He didn’t really care if he was doing things right before. But, like I said before, he doesn’t half-ass anything, especially when it comes to his little darling. And considering how he can turn you into such a hot mess in a matter of minutes, it's safe to say his efforts have paid off.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Cowgirl.

Kyojuro usually does the majority of the work during the deed, including remaining on top, but once every blue moon, he throws you on top and gives you a hard slap on the ass. Giddy-up bitch. Having you on top, bouncing on his cock so deeply, so slowly, it's such an intricate pleasure. Intricate as in it feels like he’s being milked like fucking cow. He feels the way your cunt squeezes him on the way up and glides so carefully back down, glazing his shaft and sucking the milk straight from his balls, begging him to unload his potent seed right where you need it. He likes to imagine your life depends on it. Doesn’t it?

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s tried from time to time, but has found you don’t react very well to it. His goal was to make you more comfortable, but it was fairly obvious that the only thing that would make you “comfortable” was to avoid sex entirely, which wasn’t on the table. He wasn’t about to let you spend your days celibate and bored when he could be pleasing you as you deserved. He’ll still giggle from time to time, but he tries to be fairly serious, so he can focus on giving you attention. But he still does wish you would lighten up to make things more fun.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He’s fairly groomed, but his happy trail is pretty messy. Thick and coarse, you can feel the unruly hair scratch against your clit when he plows you into the bed at night, rolling his hips lazily to feel every inch of your velvety cunt and doping himself out. You have to bite your lip to keep yourself from whining, your delicate bead overwhelmed by the sensation of pain and pleasure. Blowjobs are even worse as you’re always finding yourself plucking stray pubes from your mouth, gagging at the sharp hairs. You wish he would just shave.

Does the carpet match the drapes? Absolutely.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He’s very… intense, is one word for it. There’s no resting periods, no breaks, just ongoing, continuous, lovemaking (fucking.) Kyojuro may need to pause every once in a while for a refractory period, he only has so much cum after all, but even then he still touches you. Sucking on your clit, maybe fingering his seed back into you. He likes to keep himself busy. As much as he tries to be romantic initially, telling you he loves you, complimenting your beauty, comforting you, he always falls back to his primal self, dirty talking, moving too rough, biting you. So swept up in the moment, his instincts do all the talking as he holds your hips down to the bed and just starts humping. There’s not much you can do during those times besides hold on for dear life and blink your tears away. But you can’t deny the effort is there. Sometimes you go to the bed for the night only to find the room littered with rose petals and candles, a naked Kyo sitting up against the headboard with his thighs spread and cock bobbing between them. You already know it’s going to be a long night.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He doesn’t. The pleasure is miniscule compared to having the real thing (you), and even when you’re not with him, he still doesn’t indulge. He’s adamant that it’s wasteful, if not selfish. Why waste a good load into his hand when he can give it to you? 

But before he’d met you, he’d touched himself quite often, mostly from pent up frustrations and the constant overproduction of semen in his balls. He’d do it everywhere - in bed, in his car, in the bathroom at work - there was constant ache in his belly that grew with each hour his hand wasn’t fisting his cock. He’d never really understand back then why he was so insatiable until he’d grown to love you. After that it was quite obvious that his primal body was heavily focused on the need to breed and fuck his babies into his destined love. Even if the feeling was… less than consensual.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding, Daddy, Breeding, Praise, Marking, Breeding, Pet play, Overstimulation, Breeding… Did I say breeding yet? Kyojuro is into pretty much anything when it comes to you but these are the main ones you have to deal with. His fascinations usually fluctuate every couple of weeks, one week he may be especially gentle and kind with you as he uses only his tongue to tease and edge you until you can beg daddy to let you come, and another he may tie you up with your face buried deep into the pillows and your ass high in the air as fills you up with what feels like gallons of cum. If you’re smart enough, you may realize your own actions have an influence on what he’ll be into for the week - if you’re well-behaved and clingy, he’ll be soft and patient, wanting nothing more than to spoil his little girl, but if your… difficult, all he’s going to be in the mood for is a more torturous pleasure for you, treating you like his little cumdump that he can use all he’d like. It’s really up to you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He prefers the bedroom. Kyojuro has no problem doing it elsewhere, but his preference will always be in the comfort of your shared king-sized bed. Something about being so intimate in such a safe place feels so nice to him, and he wants you to feel safe too. He doesn’t need you getting anxious in the kitchen or on the couch that he’ll pressure you into intimacy. There will be the occasional kiss and grind, but he likes to keep it PG around the home. But the moment you even step foot into the bedroom, be it to change your clothes or grab a belonging, it's fair game. Maybe he’ll follow you in there for some alone time, maybe he won’t. It’s anyone’s guess.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Any hint of consent on your part has his body on you before you can give any objection. Smile at him? Consent. Touch him unprovoked? Consent. Make any noise of satisfaction when he’s with you? Consent. Just the thought of you needing sex and having that need fulfilled by him makes him go absolutely crazy. Psychologically, thats the only reason he feels comfortable doing anything to you - he convinces himself you always want him, vocal or not. You say no? You’re just shy. You insult him? You’re insecure. You start crying? You’re overwhelmed with happiness. He truly thinks you want him, you want his kisses, you want his touch, you want his cock. And it doesn’t help that you can’t stop yourself from coming in his grasp no matter what you do. He thinks your rebellion is just a phase. Maybe it is.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Sharing. While jealousy of another does often rile him up and lead to some hard fucks as punishment, the actual vision of you being with anyone other than him is an immediate no. Why do you think he has you locked away? He loves you of course, and the past is in the past, but as of current you belong to him, and that means your body is only for him as well. He doesn't even take pictures of you in fear that someone may wander on his phone and see them. Your body should only crave his, after all his body only craves yours! Isn't that only fair? But he does try not to be hypocritical. He lets you know of every woman in his life with no secrets, immediately cuts off the ones who try to engage with him, he even offers to let you check his phone if he thinks you are getting jealous. However, don’t go about pointing fingers either. He takes accusations of cheating very seriously. Get mad at him and say a girl at work is flirting with him? Expect to hear of her arrest on the news for tax fraud, theft, bribery, ect. - anything that has her in cuffs and tears being escorted into the back of a police car to be locked away for decades while you suffer the punishment of being forced into orgasm after orgasm until you can name 100 reasons why Kyojuro loves you and would never betray you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He enjoys both equally, but he prefers to give, for practicality’s sake. He knows blowjobs are hard for you. Even when your plush lips do manage to stretch around his thick girth, you can hardly take much in before you start gagging and choking. He still likes to watch since it’s so cute when you have to give up sucking to kiss and lick the tip while your hands do all the talking, but even then it's only an occasional pleasure. While blowjobs are every week or two, cunnilingus is everyday. He doesn’t even penetrate you until you’ve come at least once or twice on his tongue, and he even takes breaks during sex just to eat you out again. For him, it's a meal and therapeutic. Just having your ripe little nub in his mouth has all his problems melting away so he can focus on how delicious and sweet your slick is coating his tongue. And don’t even get him started on how warm and comfortable it is between your legs, some nights he even falls asleep with his head on your thigh, mid-lick up your slit with your clit pulsing under his tongue. But then again, he wouldn’t mind falling asleep with your mouth warming him either. It’s up to you really.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He usually starts off slow, tries to warm you up first and get you stretched out and needy. But it usually dissolved into him frantically rutting into you, desperate to get you fucked out enough to cling to him and beg. But he does prefer your reactions to when he goes slow. He likes how your eyebrows scrunch together and you purse your lips, how you have to take deep breaths to keep yourself composed, how your cunt gently contracts around him and gushes every time he fills you to the brim. The experience is just so much more authentic when he takes his time molding you around him and leisurely building up your orgasms. But that's not to say he doesn’t enjoy a bit of rough housing. It's usually after your umpteenth orgasm, when you’re babbling and drooling, eyes tired and lidding, that he begins increasing his pace and thrusts harder, your eyes shooting open from shock. You're already so smooth and slick from all the creampies, so it's easy to go a little harder and give less than forgiving strokes into your heat. He doesn’t get too rough, doesn’t make you bleed or bruise to an inappropriate extent, but he does prefer to leave a mark. His mark.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Meh, he’s not privy to them. Kyojuro prides himself on long ruts, and quickies don’t really fit his criteria for the correct way to make love. He thinks every session should be intimate and lengthy, prolonged enough that you’re too tired to make a fuss when he wants to cockwarm or cuddle you afterwards. Quickies aren’t bad… they just aren’t good either. He’ll always want more, and doesn't want you to feel used afterward when he hasn’t made you lose your mind with ecstasy. He does give a quick grope or caress your breasts, ass, or pussy every now and again, but that’s as far as it goes. HOWEVER - if you were to ask him for it (yes, I know, crazy) he would give you a quickie and hesitantly leave you be afterward. Of course, this scenario has never happened before… because you don’t ask.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Of course! He’ll bring home random toys, outfits, or bonds from time to time to experiment different kinks and fetishes. He’s even offered to let you do things to him! (Although you’ve never taken him up on that offer) He wants to try everything with you, just to see if he or you are into something you’ve never tried before. Given, it's not very often that he tries anything unpredictable, but he does every month or so. However, he doesn’t take any risks that would give you the opportunity to escape, per say. Tying him up is a no-no, drugging him is a no-no, giving you weapons is a no-no-no-no-no. But he will let you do anything else to him, and he certainly does whatever he wants to you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

It depends on how long it's been since your last session, how much energy he has, and what condition he’s in. But if he’s in perfect health, he can usually last around 10 rounds (cumming 10 times). Of course this number can be lower or higher depending on outside factors, but that’s the average. One day he may come once and be done for the night, another he may be so pent as to last 15+, it all depends on circumstance. Each round usually lasts for 30-45 minutes, again this may be shorter depending on depravity. As for you, you always lose count of your own orgasms no matter what.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He owns several - dildos, vibrators, plugs, you name it. He even has a couple of strap ons for you to use on him if you’d like but you’ve never indulged. He uses them on you from time to time, usually in his more adventurous phases where he wants to experiment more with your body, but he also leaves the drawer full of them available for you to use at your leisure. There are times where he’s gone longer than he would like to be and would prefer if you have toys to please yourself in his absence. He even has a replica dildo with his exact shape and size just for you to use when he’s gone. He unfortunately isn’t quite sure you even use it during those days as you’re always insistent that you don’t and would never (but much to your own horror and guilt, you do.)

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He teases fairly often, as that’s his sense of humor and it gets him riled up. From his experience, that’s the best way to get you to be more active during the deed as you squirm and eventually beg for him to give you release. Luckily for you, he very easily gives in to your pleas and always gives you whatever you want right away. Whether with his words or his actions, he loves how you react to his teasings, how your face burns and your mouth falls open with frustration and embarrassment, it's so cute. Especially when he teases you physically, drawing weak circles with his tongue on your clit with a feather-like pressure that has breaking so quickly, wrapping your legs around his head and shoving him deep into your pussy to get the attention you so desperately need, but he always just smiles and tucks his tongue back behind his lips just to kiss against the crease of your lips before unwrapping himself from you and starting all over again. The only way he ever stops is if you use your words and tell him exactly what you want. He wants to hear you say it.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He can get pretty damn loud. Who is he silencing himself for? You're the only person with him that will ever be with him for the rest of your lives, so why would he keep quiet when he can tell you exactly how good you make him feel? He wants to let you know just what you're doing to him, how crazy you make him feel, how obsessed he is with you. During the slow beginnings of your rounds he will keep himself down to an appropriate level, moaning and groaning softly into your ear, whispering sweet, sweet nothings and praising you, but when the storm of it all hits, he makes sure to howl in euphoria, shouting loud for the world to know that he is the one who obtained you. He whines and whimpers just as much and he grunts and growls, and, if you listen very closely, you can almost hear him purr after he nuts. And don’t worry too much about neighbors or passerbys hearing, he soundproofed the whole place long before you arrived.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Similar to the original Beauty and the Beast, he asks you to marry him constantly. While he knows it would be impossible legally since you’ve been missing for quite some time with authorities on the lookout, he more so asks for romantic purposes. He even has been planning for the event since day 1! But he’d make changes to it if that's what you wanted. Truly he just wants the role of being your husband rather than your lover, as it all comes into play for his ultimate goal of getting you pregnant. While he doesn’t enjoy you being on birth control at present, he allows it for the sake of normalcy as he finds it would be improper to have children before marriage. But if you would just say yes to his proposal that would change everything! You have yet to accept, but he’ll give you time to love him.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s about 6.5 inches long soft, 8.5 inches when hard, with about a 7 inch girth (6 when soft). He’s a big boy.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Very. Very. High. There’s pretty much no limit on when he can have sex or be hard, all he needs is some… motivation. Just seeing you relaxed on the couch in your sweats when he gets home from work is enough to get his pants feeling unbearably tight, ideas flooding in about what he’s going to do to you after you both eat dinner. And dear god can he last for hours. There hasn’t ever been a single time when a session has been less than an hour, and by the end of the rut, you’re already so tired that cleaning up simply isn’t an option. For him, there is always an eternal ache in his belly from all the cum he produces, so having a good outlet (you) has done wonders for his health. It doesn’t help that his high drive has affected yours as well, making you far more horny on a daily basis than you used to be. How you aren’t dead by now is a mystery.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Pretty much right after. He uses up every ounce of energy he has during sex so by the time you're both done and covered in liquids, all he wants to do is cuddle and go to sleep. He’s out in maybe 10 minutes? You’re not really sure since you’re passed out as well.

-

-

-

COMMUNITY NOTES INTERN

levi ackerman x gender neutral reader

modern universe, college students. everyone aged up levi runs the community notes on twitter, which erwin is in charge of for some reason. erwin new twitter ceo everyone! fast paced and cracky in honor of aot anniversary! also isayama said levi would get nervous/stuttery around the person he likes so i tried to emulate that a bit

Rotten Right to the Core

Caleb x MC

Author's Note: No thoughts, only Caleb's toxic ass behavior. This was shorter than I planned but sometimes the words lead you and not the other way around. Hope y'all still enjoy 😘 Word Count: ~1500 | Read on AO3 Summary: Caleb wants to feel you without any barriers. 🔞Content Warnings: Dead Dove, afab!MC, she/her MC, taboo (pseudo-cest), PIV, rough sex, edging, biting, protected sex until it’s not, dubcon (sexual coercion), possessive Caleb, spanking, Girlboss/Gaslight/Breeding Kink, hair pulling, putting it back in

Incoherent words fall from your mouth, muffled by the scratchy material of your grandmother’s couch while Caleb ruts into you from behind. Ever the one to take advantage of your time home alone together, your brother had you pinned to the cushion the moment you got home from a full day of classes at the Hunter’s Academy. You barely had time to for your bag to drop to the floor before his tongue was down your throat and he had you folded in half over the armrest. He’s been different since leaving for the Skyhaven base to train as a pilot. Caleb has always been the overprotective, obsessive type but now that you were no longer living under the same roof it was like he was trying to tattoo himself inside you whenever he was granted leave to visit home.

“This is just the welcome home I needed,” he groans.

His fingertips dig into the flesh of your hips, pulling you back on his length with obscene wet slaps echoing off of the walls. Your body was already sore from the way he tossed you around like a rag doll, placing you in various positions and seeming unable to get enough. Heavy, firm balls slap against your puffy abused clit, teasing at an orgasm he had denied you over and over again until you felt on the verge of madness.

“Caleb, please!” you whine, voice pitched high and eyes full of tears.

A deep chuckle vibrates against your back as he pins you further with his chest.

It was borderline cruel the way he made you beg for release. You never understood why he insisted on drawing it out and tormenting the both of you, especially considering that more times than not you were on a time crunch to finish before Gran could catch the two of you. It was like he wanted to get caught, always pushing the limit further and further, seeing how close you could get to the sun without incinerating.

“You know just what I like to hear.” His warm breath is like silk against your eardrum. “I want something else from you, though.”

You don’t hesitate to answer, unable to bear the thought of waiting any longer.

“Anything.”

Caleb’s hand grips your jaw, pulling your gaze back to meet his until your neck aches from the strain. Danger flashes in his amethyst eyes.

“You have no sense of self-preservation, dear sister. You don’t even know what you’re asking for. But it’s too late to take it back.”

He bites your ear painfully as he continues to pump into you, teeth clamping hard while his tongue flicks at jewelry in your lobe. You cry out in a heady combination of pain and please, tightening around his erection.

“Shit, you feel so good,” he moans your name. His heavy cock falls out, leaving you dripping and clenching around nothing as a pitiful plea escapes your lips. “Stop being a whiny brat. You’ll get what you want. Take the condom off.”

That snaps you out of your tormented, blissed out haze, shocking you to your core.

“What do you mean, take it off—”

As you push up on one arm to turn around and face him, you collapse onto your chest once more as Caleb pushes you down and pins your arm behind your back. His hand encircles yours in deceptive softness as he guides your fingers to the tip of his hard cock to pinch the latex.

“What I mean… is take it off, pip,” he repeats.

“B-but we don’t… not without…” you grapple for understanding as responsibility pushes through your lust-filled brain.

“Yeah, well I wanna feel you. All of you. Without anything between us.”

You hesitate, knowing it would be an incredibly irresponsible thing to do. You just got into the academy and were top of your class. Before long you would be assigned to a squad at the Association, something you’ve dreamed of doing since you saw Hunters fighting off Wanderers on the broadcast as a little girl.

Caleb must sense your hesitation. Soft lips press to your cheek, a trail of soothing kisses pecking lovingly against the skin. The hand not currently wrapped around your own dips between your thighs as he starts to swirl your swollen clit. Still sensitive from the constant edging, your mind swims as your forehead falls to the cushion to stop the room from spinning. His touch is light, gentle even as your brother’s calming voice soothes you like a balm.

“I know this is new for us and you’re nervous, but it hurts that you don’t trust me to take care of you.”

“It’s not—”

“You have the implant—”

“How do you know tha—” you ask, but he cuts you off again.

“And I’ll pull out. I promise.” A soft sigh falls from his lips as he starts to pump against your hand that was still gripping him. “Just need to feel you.”

You never knew how to tell him no when he gets like this, all soft and sweet even if it never lasted.

“I-I—you promise?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“…okay,” you give in, body going pliant in his hold.

Pinching the latex, you start to tug. Caleb pulls back to give you space to work the condom down his length with a snap!

“There’s my sweet girl,” he praises.

Releasing your arm, he grabs himself to swipe the sticky bare head through your soaked folds with a hiss. Up and down over and over again as it keeps bumping your clit in a maddening tease. Just when you think he’s never going to put you out of your misery, he slides in with a single deep, hard thrust that takes the air from your lungs.

“Caleb!” you cry out just as he lets out a loud quivering groan.

Hand pressing against his abdomen you attempt to make him ease up. But just like before when you tried to stop him, he traps your arm against your lower back while his long cock bruises your cervix. His hips regain the brutal pace it had before the condom came off, the skin-to-skin contact making his glide through your walls much easier. Despite your pleas for him to slow down, you gush around the intrusion.

“I know you like it soft and sweet, pip-squeak, but you also like when I just take what’s mine. Don’t you?”

His hand cracks across your ass, leaving behind a sting that has you grinding your teeth. Head shaking in denial, Caleb lands another smack across the sensitive flesh followed by another and another.

“Don’t lie to me. I can feel your cunt squeezing the life out of me every time I do.”

“No—”

Crack!

“Want to try that again?”

“Caleb!”

Crack!

“Just tell me the truth and I’ll let you come.”

Like a carrot dangling in front of a horse, you give, desperate for the release. Your muffled response gets lost in the cushion. Fingers thread through the base of your neck, pulling at your roots until your face is unobstructed.

“Say it again,” he demands, panting harshly into your ear.

He was just about as far gone as you at this point.

“I like it,” you mewl, not having the strength to deny it any longer.

Your body was starting to grow heavy and you didn’t have much left to give.

“Like what? Use your big girl words.”

You loved hated when he did this. He was a total sadist sometimes. Face heating to an unbearable degree, you rush out a response.

“I like it when you take what’s yours.”

“You love it when I take what’s mine,” he corrects.

“I love it when you take what’s yours,” you repeat between high pitched moans.

You would give him anything he wanted right now if he would just give you what you needed. Your dignity was long gone, that ship having sailed years ago when it came to him.

“Now tell me you want my cum.”

“Caleb,” you hyperventilate, on the verge of tears again at his constant teasing.

“Shhh, it’s okay sweet girl. Almost there, I promise. Tell me what you want.”

“I want your cum.”

“Whose cum?”

“My brother’s…” you murmur, knowing exactly what the pervert wants to hear.

Caleb always did want what he wasn’t supposed to have, you above all.

“Yeah? You want your big brother’s cum? Well, who am I to deny a pretty girl her request.”

Fingers pinch your clit, the mere touch enough at this point to make you go blind with pleasure. Your abdomen tightens and your ears ring almost painfully as you’re overcome with your release. You barely even notice when Caleb pulls out with a growl and wetness coats both holes between your legs. The moment seems to go on forever until he finally releases you, allowing you to collapse face-first into the couch with your heart pounding against your ribcage.

Grabbing his still stiff cock, Caleb swipes it through the mess he made of your ass and pussy, gathering the sticky release together on the tip.

So out of it, you don’t even realize what he’s doing until it’s too late.

Caleb slides back into your abused, tender hole with slow intentional deep strokes.

“Caleb!” you scold, so depleted of energy that your protest comes out as a pathetic mumble.

“I kept my promise, babygirl. I pulled out. Do you think Gran would be mad if we made her a grandma again?”

“You’re a jerk,” your swat lands against his naked hip with a smack as he laughs at your expense.

𝕗𝕦𝕝𝕝 𝕚𝕞𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟;

summary: bertholdt loved his new little toy -- the highest tech available on the market, a brand new innovative VR set that fully taps into your senses, bringing you into whatever fantasy world you desired. the best part? the cute girl on his friends list that he just couldn't get out of his head.

pairing: bertholdt hoover x f!reader

warnings: smut, online relationship, meeting in person!, virginity loss, unprotected sex, slight praise, fluffiness, friends to lovers, partly takes place in a virtual fantasy setting

notes: heyo!! here's a little piece i loved writing, for the lovely @tadokorochann, who has the best fucking ideas i can't even deal <3 stay lovely, i hope you enjoy!!

Work had never felt so long, Bertholdt thought to himself as he eyed the little clock on his car radio. In just under an hour, he'd be ready to jump into his favorite hobby and spend time with his favorite person. It was the perfect set-up for blowing off steam. The shit day answering calls and dealing with angry customers weighed on his shoulders heavily, but none of that would matter once he was home.

He scarfed down an unimpressive dinner. He showered, even fixed his hair to be presentable despite the fact that nobody would even see it -- perhaps it was a slightly nervous habit, but it didn't matter -- Bertholdt was ready to see you.

Even if it wasn't... you, exactly, it still was, in a way.

A familiar melody chimed in his ear upon donning the headset. Swirls of color lifted to life in front of his eyes, bright and harmonious. Bertholdt relaxed back into his aging gaming chair and let the giddy smile consume his face.

Everyone needs a hobby, right? Something to fill the void. Bertholdt certainly did, when he ordered the newest VR set on the market almost a year ago. The tech was groundbreaking; fully immersive like nothing else before it, and all-encompassing to the senses. It was really something amazing to experience (even if it burned a pretty little hole in his wallet) and quickly became part of his nightly ritual, keeping him up way longer than his body appreciated.

The biggest and most popular game available for such new technology enraptured him immediately: Planes of Eldia, a high-fantasy MMORPG that plopped you right in the middle of a massive world filled to the brim with strange creatures, breathtaking scenery, and, of course, no shortage of players to aid or hinder your journey.

It was his first week of playing when he met you.

Bertholdt wandered himself around the cute, quaint village his avatar lived in, eventually picking up a little fetch-quest from the inn-keeper to go collect some rare mushroom that only grows in a certain cave outside of town. He figured it'd be easy enough. Such missions were standard fare for the fantasy games he was accustomed to.

Lush grass licked at his calves as he walked, cool and dewy against the thin fabric of his low-level gear. He could hear birds chirping in the trees; a river running not far away; the coo and caw of mythical creatures that made these kinds of woods their home. Bertholdt eyed the barely noticeable gap in the tree line up ahead. He was closing in on his destination.

Traversing the forest had been too calm. Palm-sized, scaly beasts bawked and took flight if he drew too near. Fuzzy mouse-like creatures scurried themselves up the trees to avoid his booted feet. Nothing even spared him a glance as he passed by, weaving his way between impossibly tall trees until the thick of it finally broke into a rather bare clearing. The grass was dotted sparsely with tiny pastel flowers. It led like a trail up to a dark, eerie crack skirting along the side of the mountain before him. Bertholdt eyed the scene. He took in a deep breath, savoring the smell of the ocean not far away, reeling at the way the wind brushed at his hair and nipped his cheeks.

He figured it'd be easy enough, but he quickly realized he was out of his element -- quite literally. Right as his fingers brushed along the thin cave mouth, a flurry of tiny, winged creatures burst from the darkness in a powerful stream, knocking his avatar back on his ass. A cacophony of screeches and caws grated harshly through the air as they swarmed, enough to make his teeth ache and grit strangely in his mouth. Laid out, defenseless, Bertholdt slapped his hands over his ears, but it did little to drown out the relentless screaming surrounding him and draining the health bar hovering over his head.

He closed his eyes. Surely he'd wake up in his virtual bed soon, pockets a little lighter after suffering the respawn fee -- but the swirling dark clouds that accompanied the 'dying' mechanic didn't take over his vision as he'd expected.

"Dude, what are you doing?!"

A savior in mismatched armor, a diamond among the rough tree line.

"You don't even have any ranged abilities yet. You gotta pick up a crossbow or something, man, you're fucked against stuff like this!"

The first time he met you, you saved his ass. And you never let him forget about it, either.

It was months ago when he made his first friend in Planes of Eldia, who just so happened to be a sweet, higher-level mage. You didn't mind gifting him gear and weapons, you didn't mind escorting him through quests you'd already completed. Bertholdt felt babied by this objectively better player, utterly dwarfed in skill and abilities, but you never minded.

You were cute -- well, your avatar was cute, he had to remind himself. He felt drawn to you in embarrassing ways. Whenever he'd log on, he'd check to see if you were also online. He'd travel to your avatar's home a few villages away, feeling much like a nervous teenager when he knocked on the door. It was just a game, he had to remind himself.

Just a game.

Eventually, you two played nearly every day together. It became a ritual of sorts: Bertholdt would get off work, put on the headset, and you'd almost always be waiting. The gentle greetings and little laughs were a symphony to his ears. So many nights stretched far too long, sometimes not even getting anything done in the game. Hours of just talking felt like minutes when it meant he could lie in a field of grass next to you.

"You... you have an online girlfriend?" Reiner had smirked at him from across the table one night, amusement dancing behind his golden gaze. Bertholdt blanched, nearly choking over his beer. "No, no! She's just... a friend, on the game, who happens to be a girl," he sputtered and glanced away. The restaurant surrounding them felt too quiet for the friendly conversation to take such an embarrassing turn. Distant forks scraped against plates and patrons chatted to one another, yet Bertholdt felt like he was trapped in a closet with his oldest friend, pressed into an inescapable corner. He picked at a fry on his plate absently.

The blonde arched a brow, clearly inquisitive after that reaction. "Well, you sure spend a lot of time together. I feel like I haven't seen you in ages," he hummed and paused to take a bite of his meal, "I finally pin you down and now I feel like I know everything about this... friend."

The sound of phone chimes suddenly broke into their space -- three dings, back to back -- and Bertholdt stiffened in place. A hole was burning in his pocket and anyone half blind could see it. Reiner blinked at him and the curious way he molded into a rather ghoulish statue under the dim lighting. "...Don't tell me that's her."

"Okay, I won't."

"Bert, buddy," Reiner swiped the back of his hand across his mouth a little unceremoniously, clearly loosening up after his third beer, "listen. You like her, don't you?"

The brunette didn't reply, instead choosing to take an inappropriately massive bite of the burger he'd been neglecting. He started talking earlier and didn't notice the rapid pace that took over him, words simply spilling from his usually timid mouth at breakneck speed, dripping with puppy-like excitement. It was rather unusual, Reiner noticed immediately, but he simply grinned and soaked in the gleefulness radiating from his friend.

Bertholdt looked guilty, but really, he felt torn.

He knew the answer to Reiner's question. Of course he liked this girl, how could he not? The connection was nearly instant and completely automatic. He'd always been a rather shy individual, finding it hard to communicate and find a comfortable space around others. People were intimidating. People were confusing.

But you were kind. You were sweet, you made him laugh, you looked at him like he held no flaws.

Maybe it was naive of him, a man in his twenties falling for someone over the internet like some lost puppy, someone he had never met in person. Naive or not, he knew what Reiner was going to say -- it was written all over his face, that slightly wry smirk slipping into a rather tight line.

"Do you know what she sounds like?" The blonde asked next. Bertholdt nodded and swallowed, not really tasting the food in his awkward reverie.

"We talk every day."

"And she... sounds like a girl?"

Okay, maybe he didn't quite know what Reiner was thinking. He assumed there'd be some light ribbing, not an entire interrogation.

"Yes. God, Reiner, what are you getting at?"

The man across from him held his hands up in a show of defense, dipping his head a tad. "I'm just saying, there are some weirdos out there, man!" he flicked his golden gaze over Bertholdt, calculating his next words carefully. "Do you know what she looks like?"

"Yeah," he replied quickly, but faltered after a moment of thought. "Well... I guess not. I haven't asked for a picture or anything."

Reiner laid his palms flat on the table. A steady look washed over his relaxed face. "Bert," he said sternly. His name never felt heavier coming from Reiner's mouth. The brunette shook his head, heat rising to the tips of his ears.

"W-Who cares what she looks like? She's my friend, we just play games together, nothing else."

Except, there was something else. He'd just rather keel over on his plate before admitting it to the skeptical mass of muscle across from him.

Bertholdt remembered the first time he felt a line had been blurred, past the casual flirting and prolonged eye contact that was so beautifully normal for you two.

Digital stars hung in the sky, twinkling little holes punched behind a swirl of pastel colors, painted like careful brush strokes. That particular corner of the gigantic map was your favorite. The sky was always dark, but the gentle glow from the aurora above served as the perfect night light. Soft blues and greens lit up your cheeks and glistened in your eyes. Bertholdt felt dizzy watching you, felt his breath nearly sucked from his lungs when the realization hit him like a sack of bricks.

It was just a game, sure, but he was smitten. The avatar sitting at his side was just that: a character.

But when you -- your digital form -- laid your head on his shoulder, he could feel the pressure. He could feel the heat radiating from you, feel the butterflies in his belly.

He knew he was in deep.

"Have you ever seen something so pretty where you live?" you asked, tone dreamy and voice soft. Bertholdt shook his head gently without needing much thought.

"It's pretty boring where I'm from, honestly. Not much to do around here," he replied. Briefly, he thought about you, most likely sitting thousands of miles away in some city he's never heard of. He thought about what your daily life might consist of, outside this magical realm you traversed together nightly.

It became easier to be bold in this virtual setting, no matter how real it felt. Bertholdt slowly snaked an arm around your form and let his fingers ghost over your waist, something he'd be petrified to do in person.

"Ugh, me too. I visited Paradis with some friends last year, and it was so fun. Made me super jealous that my town is just so... bland, even if it's not that far away."

Bertholdt looked down at you. "Not far from Paradis?" he asked. A sense of excitement leaked into his words, one he hoped you didn't catch onto.

"Yeah. It's like, a ferry ride away."

No fucking way.

Bertholdt straightened himself. Suddenly, the hilltop you two lazed on felt sky-high, his heart catapulting into a slightly frenzied state. "Do you live around Liberio, maybe?" he asked, a little shake in his voice.

He could tell he caught you off guard with the way you snapped up to look at him. The answer was plain as day, but the satisfaction of hearing you confirm it felt too delicious to pass up. "No fucking way," was all you said, but it was music to his ears, easily stealing the breath from his lungs.

The VR was revolutionary, impeccable and immersive, allowing you to feel everything your character would -- almost everything, anyway. Bertholdt knew his actual heart was threatening to burst in his chest. He knew he was probably sweating in his gaming chair, and he knew Reiner would have a field day with this information if he ever caught wind. What the brunette didn't know, though, was how real it would feel when you planted a kiss on his cheek.

Not just the sensation -- of course he'd feel it, he felt everything that touched him -- but the implications behind it. You were a real person, somewhere not far from him, someone he absolutely adored, and you had kissed him. On purpose, no less.

At least he wasn't crazy like Reiner inadvertently made him out to be. It wasn't all in his head. All the hours spent together, all the late nights, all the texts that made him glow while he was supposed to be working... it wasn't nothing. It wasn't silly, it wasn't weird. It was real. You were real, somewhere, and he needed to settle some things before he went insane from self-doubt.

Despite his outward skepticism, Reiner was a good friend, with good intentions. Bertholdt knew it all came from a place of love, even if it left a sour taste in his mouth sometimes, which is why he even allowed this Scooby-Doo-level scheme to transpire in the first place.

The cafe was quiet, but not empty. A few students dotted the tables, typing away on laptops. A little group of women clad in athletic gear chatted amicably just a few seats away. Bertholdt tried to sip away his nerves, the coffee burning his mouth in his haste. A new text tore his gaze away from the front door he'd been burning a hole in for the past five minutes.

Reiner: You look like you're about to shit yourself

He rolled his olive-colored eyes, shooting a pointed glare at the blonde sitting not-so-casually across the building. Reiner tilted his head with a grin before biting his croissant.

The blonde came as backup, a safety net in case things went horribly wrong with this... date? Would you even call it a date? Maybe it'd be too forward to assume. Sure, he'd held your hand; you've hugged plenty of times; you've kissed his cheek, and he's kissed your forehead. But this was all virtual, Reiner was quick to chirp in.

Truthfully, Bertholdt wasn't sure what to expect as he waited anxiously. What if things were painfully awkward? What if he didn't know what to say, what if he clammed up like he tended to do in social situations, and you thought he was some weirdo from the internet?

What if you didn't even show up?

Reiner: This is taking forever

Bertholdt heaved a sigh, staring at the phone laid on the table. As much as it pained him, he agreed with the sentiment, nerves frayed like a man on death row. What a painful, mortifying mistake this could be. What a--

"Bertholdt?"

He must've missed the door chime, must've missed the little gasp hidden behind the fit of self-depreciation he'd immersed himself in because he certainly missed the girl that walked cautiously up to his table and stood before him. Wide eyes slid up your form to settle on your face -- your strikingly familiar face that he'd actually never seen before, except, he has.

Just... digitally.

You looked exactly like your avatar, which came as a stark surprise. People usually embellish their characters, making them wildly more interesting or attractive to live their best fantasy life -- but you, standing a little ways away with your fingers fiddling at your sleeves -- you were so familiar, it made his chest ache and stomach flip dangerously.

He managed to mumble out your name, disbelief accidentally dripping from the syllables. A jovial smile crept over your cheeks, hidden by the hand you slapped over your mouth rather quickly. "No way, no way," you muttered, voice raised an octave in what he hoped was excitement.

Any sense of confidence he held in your little virtual world completely dashed away, knowing how stunning you actually were in person. He suddenly felt bashful, hot prickles rising under his skin as he stood up.

"Woah, you're really tall," you gawked, staring up at him with a gleam in your eye.

Reiner let his mouth hang in subtle disbelief as he watched the scene play out. He'd suggested the plan in wholesome concern, fully expecting to console his heartbroken friend over a few beers and maybe a little shit-talking session -- never in a million years did he expect a beautiful girl to waltz in, let alone bury her face in Bertholdt's chest as he timidly wrapped his arms around her. The two men made eye contact from across the cafe, sharing the moment of shock.

Reiner was a good friend -- he knew when to make himself sparse.

"Sorry I'm-- I'm really nervous, to be honest," the man before you said breathily, swiping his hands over his jeans. You'd felt how stiff he was during your hug, the energy radiating off of him like a live wire. As incredibly flattering as it was, it also fed your anxiety, making your hands shake just the slightest bit, but you laughed it off, enraptured by the adorable blush dusting his cheeks. "That's okay, I am, too," you replied gently, trying your best to even out your tone.

Bertholdt looked down at his drink. Something clicked, making him jump a little bit. "I'm so sorry, c-can I buy you a coffee?"

Your stomach fluttered, unable to look away from him. "I'd love that, thank you, Bertie," the nickname slipped out so easily, but it nearly threw him on the ground, his face and neck now a deep red.

"It's no problem, anything for you."

You weren't sure what you were expecting from this little plan. To any outsider, it was undeniably risky -- meeting up with some guy from the internet, alone. The fact that he asked you to choose the destination was a good sign in your eyes, though, as if you personally needed more reassurance... despite not knowing him in real life (yet), you knew there couldn't be a malicious bone in Bertholdt's body. The man was honey personified, extremely respectful in all of your interactions thus far, even when the playful banter turned a little less than platonic.

As he sat across from you, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes, you knew he was a shy thing; the way he would bounce his gaze between you and his drink made you squirm with adoration. Nobody else in that little cafe felt relevant as you talked, minutes slipping away until the sun began to dip behind buildings outside.

How long had you been there? The parking meter certainly needed to be fed, or you got slapped with a ticket already, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care. Your favorite person and the only man on your mind for the past year or so was finally in front of you, laughing at lame little anecdotes and strange stories from your life as if you were the most interesting person in the world. It felt so normal, so natural, it's like you hadn't had the wind knocked out of you just hours before.

"It's getting late," you said suddenly, sighing into the empty space inside your cup. Bertholdt glanced out the window, blinking in surprise. "I guess so," he replied, "I didn't even notice."

You smiled coyly. "I take it you're enjoying yourself?"

"More than I'd like to admit." The brunette ran a hand through his hair, all but forcing you to take note of the prominent veins that ran up his forearm, hiding under the rolled sleeves at his elbows. He'd dressed so nicely, it made you swoon inside. "Well... okay, call me crazy--"

"You're crazy, but so am I, because I already agree with whatever you're going to say," you found yourself leaning across the table, eyeing him with a heated, curious gaze.

Bertholdt chuckled -- a deep, rumbly noise that lit a fire under you. "Don't agree too quickly, you'll get my hopes up. I was just wondering... would it be weird if we, I dunno," he looked away shyly, fiddling with the long-empty cup between you both, "spent some more time together tonight?"

At your grin, he flushed deep again. Oh, how adorable this giant, bashful teddy bear was.

"I-I mean, like, maybe a movie or something? I'm sorry if it's weird. I just... I've had a lot of fun, I really like being around you, and I don't want today to be over."

Reaching over, you laid a hand over his, nothing but syrupy sweetness in your voice, "I'd love that, Bertie."

He really should've cleaned. It's not often he has guests in his apartment, let alone gorgeous women, so the space seemed embarrassingly lackluster as Bertholdt guided you inside and flicked on the lights. "Sorry for the mess," he mumbled sheepishly, running a hand through his hair, and you waved him off immediately, muttering a playful 'shush, you're fine' in reply.

It's not like he could've predicted bringing you back home. Fuck, he wasn't even sure if he'd be meeting you at all -- and now, there you were, curiously gazing at a few framed photos hanging on his entryway wall. You looked utterly adorable, smiling at the image he knew to be his graduation day; he stood side by side with Reiner, red gowns draped over them and wide smiles plastered on their faces. "You look so cute here," you cooed, a sense of adoration dripping from your lips.

Bertholdt chuckled meekly. His stomach was tying knots around itself at a rapid pace. "Thanks. You look cute, too," he replied before he could think it over.

"Oh, do I?"

"Y-Yeah, stunning, actually."

The air felt heavier as you looked at him, your hands drawn together before you, lips pursed in the cutest half pout he'd ever seen.

Bertholdt was never good with women. He could feel himself crack under your gaze, nervous energy surging him further into his apartment in a feeble attempt at diffusing the tension he depicted as discomfort. "S-So, make yourself at home," he cleared his throat and set his keys on the granite countertop separating the kitchen from the living room.

Truthfully, you were on cloud nine. Despite only just meeting him (formally, anyways), your mind wandered to dangerous territory as soon as he sheepishly brought up extending your night. All these emotions that had built up for so long were finally coming to a head, in one way or another, and the need to explore it outweighed your frazzled nerves.

Fuck, it felt good when he complimented you. It felt good when he looked at you; it made you feel whole, complete, admired for everything you were. There was something so different about having that deep emotional connection before any inkling of physical attraction -- but that was most definitely there, too, burning deep in your belly and making your thighs squirm a bit.

His couch had never felt more comfortable than it did with you snuggled on it. It was impeccable, really, how smooth everything seemed to go despite how devastatingly nervous he was inside. Part of him wanted to text Reiner, maybe to gloat just a little bit, to revel in how he finally felt wanted by a beautiful girl that just so happened to lean into his side so casually it was like she was made to be there.

But, no, Bertholdt couldn't tear himself away from the moment, even for all the satisfaction that blabbing to the blonde might bring.

You hummed, utterly content in this mans hold, your core swirling as he rubbed little circles into your arm. His smell was intoxicating, something so clean and masculine and new but it felt so comfortable, so familiar in a strange way. How odd of a feeling, to be enamored with someone for so long and finally be able to feel them under your fingertips, take in their scent, even taste them if you so chose.

The thought brought electricity to life under your skin.

The movie still played idly on the TV, though truthfully, nobody was paying attention. Bertholdt realized this when he chanced a peek down, being met with a heavy gaze through thick lashes. His heart hammered in his ears.

"Hi," he breathed, so easily sucked into the beauty pressed against his side.

"Hi," you mirrored, nearly purring once he squeezed you closer, your head falling naturally against his chest. An experimental hand laid across his abdomen, spurring surprise at how toned he felt under the soft cotton. "This okay?" you cooed gently.

Bertholdt sucked in a sharp breath, feeling himself tense up as your fingers explored the peaks and valleys of his stomach. "Y-Yeah, that's okay," he watched you closely, deathly curious to see exactly what was happening before him.

"Bertie?"

The way you said that little nickname always made him melt. Though you could probably call him anything and he'd be quick to swoon.

"Mhm?"

With a tilt of his head, you leveraged yourself to lean up his torso and plant your lips across his own, eyes fluttering shut before you could spy the way his face immediately flamed up. Bertholdt's body lit up in record time, his skin searing and mind reeling -- it took a few seconds before he pulled together and leaned into you, but the action was eager, needy, incredibly charged. The sound of your lips working against each other overpowered the film, but was barely a thought in his mind over the subconscious screaming your intimate affections spurred in him. Embarrassingly enough, with a few swipes of your tongue against his, he could feel his dick growing harder and harder, just inches away from where your hand now played under his shirt. The man groaned softly into your mouth, worming his hand up to brush your hair away in utter adoration.

You pressed your thighs together, the fire between them becoming overwhelming as his hands curiously began to roam over you. He was so gentle, so cautious -- you leaned yourself further into him, shifting your hand down to grasp his thigh, but gasped into his mouth when you accidentally brushed over his bulge.

"S-Sorry," he muttered, eyes squeezed shut, "I'm... you're really pretty, and I just really like you--" it was Bertholdt's turn to gasp when you palmed him through his jeans, pressing down with teasing force.

"Don't be sorry," a catlike grin spread over your plump lips, "I don't mind at all. I really like you too, y'know." You bumped your nose against his in a sweet little nuzzle, completely eating up how his breathing quickened with your gentle rubbing. A few short, involuntary jerks from his hips completely fed your ego, ushering away any nerves that threatened to fray in the heated moment.

"Is it okay if I...?" he pressed his forehead to yours, finally prying his eyes open to watch you, uncertainty laying heavy in his green gaze. A coy giggle spilled out in all your excitement, taking his hand and pressing it against your chest, kneading a little bit for extra measure. Even through the thick fabric of his jeans, you could feel his cock twitch.

A cute hitch caught in his throat when your hand fell away from his, his guide lost. "I... um," he pressed against the soft swell curiously, "h-honestly, I'm not the most experienced."

You pecked his lips, heart swooning when he eagerly pecked back. " 's okay, Bertie, neither am I."

"Really?"

Playfully, you squeezed at his hard length. An unmistakable tingle pooled in your core when he slipped a delectable moan against your kiss-swollen lips.

"Really. But I feel so... comfortable with you. I'm down to try some things out, if you are," your words were honey, and he was soaking up every bit he could, his heart utterly slamming against its poor cage. Bertholdt nodded eagerly, eyes falling shut again with a hard swallow. "Y-Yeah, yeah, I'd like that, a lot," the slight quiver in his voice made you notice the throb between your legs.

Bertholdt was so addicting in every sense. The smell of his sheets gripped you, pulled you in, made you think about how gruff his morning voice would sound or how cute he'd look with sloppy chocolate bedhead. It was almost too perfect, how at ease you felt under his careful touch. The incredibly flustered look splayed over his face once his cock was freed sent you into a horny tizzy -- it was perfect, if a little intimidating: long, flushed at the tip, drooling precum as it hung heavy between his toned thighs.

"I-I've thought about this a lot," he breathed, saddling himself between your bare legs, "it doesn't feel real. You're so gorgeous, so perfect," he shyly traced his thumb up and down your drooling lips, mesmerized by the sheer amount of wetness pooling already. "I'm so fucking glad you're here with me."

Electric jolts shot through you once he found your clit, swollen and needy and begging to be played with. Instinct made your legs squeeze together around him, even if all your lust-riddled brain wanted was to open up as wide as you possibly could for more of his delicate touch. Bertholdt watched in near astonishment as you writhed under his hold, one hand settled gingerly on your thigh and the other rubbing sweet circles against your hot button.

Succulent moans slipped from your lips, giving him the biggest confidence boost in the world. "Keep doing that," you cooed, "feels s'good," eyes fluttering shut, your head nudged back against his pillows in a state of bliss. He listened obediently, swirling your clit, and pressed his silky cockhead against your heat. With all your juices nearly dripping out of you, he barely needed any pressure before he was slipping between your lips, the new sensation sending shivers down his spine. "F-Fuck," he hissed quietly, even more pre dribbling out in his excitement. Needy, nearly throbbing, you wriggled your hips against him.

"More, need more," you whined.

"You want more?" the brunette breathed, rocking against you, dipping just the very tip of his cock inside and pulling out again. "Please," came your desperate reply, "please fuck me, Bertie."

The request alone nearly made him cum. With a groan, Bertholdt urged himself further at a careful pace, faltering a tad but not relenting on your sensitive little clit. Stretching around him, the unique sensation left you a bubbling mess, gripping onto his forearms hard enough to leave little crescent moons along the lightly tanned skin. "A-Am I hurting you?" he gasped, pausing mid-thrust and leaving only half his long cock inside, despite how desperately he wanted to bury himself all at once. He wanted to get lost in you, in your warmth, your wetness, but not at the sake of your comfort. Feverishly, your head thrashed side to side, eyes popping open to catch his hazy gaze. " 's okay, I'm okay, I promise."

"Want you to feel good," his chest, slick with a light sheen of sweat, heaved so deliciously. It looked like he was falling apart at the seams. "Are you ready? C-Can I keep going?"

You bit your lip. Such a sweet fucking man, towering over you in all your indecency, tripping over himself to make sure you were alright. With a little mewl, you raised your hips, sucking in more of his hard dick. "More, more," you begged, "want you t'fill me up..."

It was all he needed, a strained little moan accompanying his push into you. Pelvis to pelvis, Bertholdt couldn't believe the sight in front of him. The woman he'd been hopelessly in love with, splayed out on his sheets, face twisted up in pleasure that he was more than willing to provide. It was real, you were real -- the pressure in his lower belly was absolutely real, coiling aggressively fast as he slid in and out of your wet pussy. The sensation was addicting, he decided, your gooey insides massaging him so perfectly it was hard to stop, and even harder to keep himself contained. "Fuck, you feel so good," he breathed, forcing his eyes shut as he tried to find a rhythm between hip thrusts and messing with your clit. The circles grew sloppy, but he couldn't find it in himself to correct it, every moment drawing him closer and closer to release. "I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Bertholdt gasped, his hips stuttering along with his words, " 'm so close," he nearly whined, completely in love with the way your body sucked him in so greedily. Your hands found their way to his chest, lightly scratching down to his abs, tipping closer and closer to your own orgasm with his delicious words and needy moans. " 'm I gonna make you cum, pretty boy?"

The brunette lost the battle, that coil inside him completely snapping under your sticky sweet words -- muttering incoherent praises, Bertholdt hung his head as he came, thrusting deep inside you to bury himself as far as he could. A tiny bit of sense knocked back into him with your wiggling, enough to pick up the pace on your clit while his cock eased in and out of you slowly, riding out the tail end of his orgasm and feeding your own.

Clenching, spasming, your cunt sucked onto him desperately, a silent cry falling out of you and sucking all the air out of your lungs. This was so incredibly different than cumming against your own fingers, hitting so much deeper and scratching an itch you didn't know you had until Bertholdt satisfied it so intensely. "So good, so fucking good," he panted, easing himself out of you once your muscles began to relax.

The glow that settled over you both was intoxicating. His room felt hot, heavy, as if there wasn't enough oxygen for your needy lungs as you tried to recover with shaky legs. He laid beside you, trying to muddle through the wave of emotions crashing against him as he gazed at your breathless form in his bed.

"Thank you," Bertholdt said rather innocently, pressing his nose into your messy hair.

You giggled. "Thank you, what an excellent host you've been."

"My pleasure," he sighed. It felt like he just ran one of Reiner's impossible marathons, leaving his muscles weak and brain foggy.

"Yeah, speaking of... do you mind if I use your shower?" your thighs pressed together, acutely aware of his cum threatening to dribble out of you. A strange sense of pride coupled with slight sheepishness filled his chest when he realized what you meant, agreeing immediately and taking you on a little tour of his apartment, starting with the bathroom.

"So, you do have an online girlfriend."

Reiner was looking rather smug, leaning against his forearms on Bertholdt's counter. He studied the little photobooth strip of you both stuck to the fridge as the brunette rummaged around in it. Bert looked happy, kissing your cheek in one of the squares, beaming in the next.

"Not just online," the taller man mused, "she's coming over later, so don't make a mess."

Almost like a proud parent, Reiner straightened and grinned, playfully dusting off the spot he just occupied. "Alright, alright," he mused, not missing the way Bertholdt smiled so effortlessly as he crossed the kitchen. It was refreshing to see him so happy. "I'll get out of your hair. You have fun on your little date."

Waving him off, Bertholdt grinned into the sink as he washed the vegetables for your dinner that night.

You were real. Not just you as a person, not just your feelings for him -- you two, as the inseparable berserker and mage duo -- your connection was real, infallible, undeniable.

God, he loved that damn VR headset.

Girl, I Do This Often

Synopsis. How does he cope with a séx ban? He doesn’t.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, established relationship, rough séx, unprotected, stuff with pantíes, gaggíng, bréeding, Nanami is a bit mean, overstím, finger suckíng, really desperate boys, light smackíng (Nanami), bondagé + víbrators (Geto), swearing.

Word count. 5.2k

A/N. Guess what, ya girl just turned 19 yippeeeee.

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - 4 days

On the first day, Toji’s more amused than anything.

A sex ban? With him? Ridiculous, he predicted a full 24 hours before you come crawling back, just begging to be split-apart on his cock. And he tells you so, too - a little over five times as he kisses your pouty lips, muttering a smug, “You’ll be eating your words soon enough, doll.”

By the third day, he’s beginning to think that okay, maybe you were serious about the ban after all. How cute - real cute. 

He’s left to do nothing but complain pathetically on the phone to a very reluctant Shiu. Who doesn’t have much to say other than cut off Toji’s ramblings about “not having your pretty pussy all day” to groan, “Shut the fuck up and beg for her forgiveness. I’m hanging up.”

Toji can only scoff at the thought. Beg for forgiveness? Him? Toji Fushiguro never begs, he never-

That was until the fourth day. 

With you - bent over the kitchen counter in his t-shirt - and nothing but his t-shirt.

“Please, pretty.” Toji drags his lips down your neck, just loving the way your traitorous hips are grinding back into his. “Said m’sorry, right? Don’t ya miss this?”

And you can only look behind your shoulder at the big arms around your waist, muscled thighs pressed up against yours. Angling your head just right to catch the way his hands snake down to your squirming hips to help you draw slow little circles against the rock-hard erection straining against his pants.

So close. So big.

Big enough that you’re almost thinking of throwing this sec ban out of the window altogether - almost.

But that little smirk of Toji’s is infuriating enough that you’re gasping out a breathless little, “I-I’m still mad at you, y’know? You never let me-” The words die in your throat as Toji pulls his pants down just enough for his aching cock to spring free. So angry and painfully hard, leaking hot precum all over your thighs. 

“No no no- hah. Keep talking.” he grits out, breath hot against your ear. Hips pushing and pulling. “Please- keep talking.”

And fuck you didn’t know what was harder - trying to find your voice, or ripping your eyes away from Toji’s cock long enough that you could. 

“B-because you-” you choke out, watching the way he takes his massive cock in his hands. Staring to pump so slow - so lazy - no rhythm or reason other than getting off so filthily to the sound of your voice. “You never let me take-” He wraps your smaller hands around his dick, so hot and heavy in your palms. “-charge.”

“F-fuck-” Toji lets out a low hiss, head thrown back as you thumb teasingly under his sensitive slit, trying to fuck something delicious out. “Yer killin’ me doll. Killing me.” Whether from your words or from the way you’re sliding him so lewdly between your puffy folds, you didn’t know. 

And Toji didn’t either. Hell, he doesn’t even seem to be breathing as he shifts his toned hips so familiarly. Head filled with only you and your heavenly cunt and you. 

“Toji-” you mewl. “Need you so bad.”

If he was any lesser man, Toji would’ve just bullied himself into your dripping cunt already, fucked you into the counter until there was nothing about any sex ban in your pretty lil’ mind. Instead, he’s panting out an absolutely wrecked, “Please. Then take all the charge you want, pretty.”  Fat head lining up with your sloppy hole. “Next time.”

And oh has it really been that long?

Because Toji’s just barely pushing into your plushy walls, and he already feels like he could cum right then and there. The stretch too sinful. Your walls too tight. So cute how you’re already mumbling his name so deliriously. 

“Awww,” he coos, watching awe-struck at the way you flatten your hands on the counter, fucking yourself back into him in short, shallow little grinds. “The s-sex ban was for ah- nothing, huh?”

You’re pulling him impossibly closer by the hair, catching his lips in such a searing kiss. Drinking in Toji’s guttural grunt as you bite down on his lower lip, “Are ya gonna sh-shut up n’ fuck me or do I need ngh- another sex ban?”

“No, ma’am.” he grins, kissing back so mockingly soft. And you know he’s making fun of you with the way he’s twitching so wildly inside your pussy. Veins dragging against all the right spots as he reels his hips back, back, back - only to slam his cock fully inside. “Guess you’re the one mm- in charge right now, huh?”

Over and over again. Fucking you exactly the way he’s wanted these past four days - and then some. 

Hitting your cervix - but it feels like your fucking lungs. Heavy balls smacking against your ass, so hard that he’s sure it’ll leave some obscene marks for him to point out next time. One hand around your throat, the other keeping your slutty, trembling hips in place while you’re torn between running away and bucking back for more more more-

“Right here.”

It’s all you can do to whirl your head around, eyes glassy and unfocused, whining a broken, “Wh-what?” 

“Right…” Trailing down, featherlight, right where he knew he was wrecking your insides. “Here. S’where I belong.” Pressing hard. “N’ m’gonna make sure you don’t forget it.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - 1 week

A week. One week of being patient with your silly idea to “spice things up”. One week of pretending like he wasn’t excusing himself during important meetings to have his cock in his hands - thinking of nothing but you and that sinful little dress you had on today.

One week was all it took for Nanami to have a bad day at work. And you could tell when he did. 

By the way that front door slammed, unfamiliarly harsh footsteps sounding against the hardwood floors. And all it takes is one look at you laid out so prettily on the couch and Nanami’s mouth drops into a soft oh! 

One hand immediately loosening his tie, the other snaking down to his belt. Ashen, tense, - and you have half the mind to wonder whether he’s even breathing. 

Not even looking at you as he mutters a low, “Panties off. Spread those legs.”

That was a few hours ago. 

Before you knew it, your husband had you splayed out like such a slut for him on the couch - too starved to even think about making it to the bed. Legs on his sculpted shoulders, panties in tatters on the floor because you were taking too fucking long. Cock so angry and sensitive as he bullies into your snug cunt, stuffing you full of his cum.

Again. And again and again like he wanted to fuck any and every thought of that stupid sex ban out of your delirious mind. 

“K-Kento- what-” he pulls you into a bruising kiss. Just a sloppy clash of teeth and spit and hands everywhere. “You’re ngh- different.”

At this, Nanami has the audacity to laugh - laugh. Hips snapping impossibly deeper, “Yeah? N’ who’s fault is hah- that? Who’s fault is it th-that we ended hngh- up like-” Pushing your knees all the way up to your tits, groaning at the mess of cum and slick pooling beneath you. “-this?”

Cock just ramming into you, prominent veins nudging against your gummy walls so agonizingly. The couch creaking in protest as he uses your pretty lil’ cunt exactly the way he’s been fantasizing this past week.

And when all you can do is let out delirious little moans in response, Nanami raises his hand up, up, up. Coming down on your ass, hard. 

Smack!

“Didn’t you know we’d end up here?”

Oh the words hit you harder than that large palm-print stinging your ass. Tight pussy clenching and trying to milk the fucking soul out of him as you sob, “I- I didn’t-” Smack! You’re jolting at the impact, hips bucking wildly as you gasp, “-I did! Wanted this so bad, Kento. I did I did-”

And yeah, Nanami knew that. He knew you’d pulled this little “sex ban” stunt to make him break - to have him fuck you like the slut you are. But hearing the words from your pretty mouth had his balls squeezing so painfully. 

“Knew it.” he manages to grit out. “Knew you were such a slut, my love.” Words strained with each harsh thrust, “N’ as my slut, y-you can ngh- take one more, right?” You keen at how soft his tone was, like he was whispering sweet little nothings to you instead of promises to absolutely break you. Fingers trailing down to draw lewd patterns on your throbbing clit, “Right?”

And as if to prove you could, he’s squeezing his swollen cock harder into your plushy walls. Faster. Unforgiving. Fat, leaking tip hitting all those sweet spots he’s mapped out, in time with his abuse on your clit.

“Didn’t hah- have to lock myself in my office for nothing, right?” Pulling your trembling hips flush against his toned ones, “Have to get by with j-just a pretty picture this week for nothing?” Hips out of control now. Bruising. Almost painful with the stretch and the sheer pressure of being so full. “S’all for this, right?”

Smack! 

“Oh God, Kento- Fuck fuck fuck fuck.”

“Yeah? Feels good?” he nips at your lower lip, “Good enough to fuck- take another one?”

You were sure if he came once more then it might just be the death of you.

You’re not even lucid enough to realize what reaction you’re giving him - all you know is that it isn’t good enough for Nanami. 

Because he lets out a tut, hand dancing across your stomach to where he knew he was absolutely making a mess of you inside. 

“Fine.” And something about the way he says it makes your heart stop, already knowing that it didn’t bode well for you or your poor cunt. “Guess I hafta ngh- help you.” Sure enough, Nanami wastes no time before pushing down on your abdomen. 

The both of you watch - awe-struck and speechless - as your overfilled pussy gushes all around him. 

And shit neither of you can even begin to think of what a bitch it’ll be to clean out this couch later on. Too caught up in the way you’re soaking Nanami’s merciless cock in that sinful mix of cum and slick. Thick, and hot, drooling down the side of your puffy folds. 

“See? Enough space, no?”

You raise your eyes, teary and hazy with lust, up to meet Nanami’s darkened ones and oh-

You weren’t going to make it out alive. 

Especially not when he leans down, whispering so raggedly in your ear, “Now I get to give ya another week’s worth more, right?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - 9 days

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzt-

You didn’t know how it ended up this way. How that stupid bet about who’d be the needier one made Geto the one with the sex ban. 

How he had you tied across from him so prettily on the bed, a bullet vibrator stuffed up your dripping cunt, unable to do anything but whine and watch as he spreads his bare, muscled thighs.

Tip flushed your favorite shade of pink, matching those panties wrapped around his throbbing cock. So angry and leaking all over his fist as one hand slides up, up, up. The other, fiddling with that tiny metal remote. 

“You’re drooling, gorgeous. So desperate, huh?”

You know you aren’t - but you can’t help the way your face burns at your boyfriend’s low chuckle. Thighs squeezing together at the heavenly sight before you. “N-no fair, Sugu.” you whine. “I want to-”

Intensity setting 2.

But whatever words get stuck in your throat as Geto draws harsh, quick little circles on the intensity setting, smirking at the way you’re so wrecked already. 

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzt-

“I-I want to-” he mocks your pathetic little whines, acting for all the life of him that they didn’t make his dick twitch so wildly in his hands. “My poor baby. S’not nice, right?” And if you were embarrassed before then it was absolutely nothing in comparison to when Geto knits his brows in mock concern, eyes locked on yours. Hand still moving down his cock, “But isn’t this what you wanted? With the sex ban? Isn’t this-” Hips bucking up to show off how sloppily he’s fucking his fist - and your panties along with it, “-what you were asking for?”

“No.” you’re tugging at the ties at your wrist, “I wanted…”

Intensity setting 3. 

But oh it’s like Geto was well and fully intent on leaving you speechless - and succeeding at it too. 

Because he immediately brings up your panties - flimsy and just so soaked - up to his face, breathing in so filthily. And as if he couldn’t help himself - as if he didn’t want to help himself - the remote falls out of Geto’s hand, “accidentally” locked on the highest setting, first wrapping around his cock to make a mess of himself. 

“F-fuck-” he cracks one eye open, balls squeezing so painfully at the way you were almost in tears trying to get some semblance of friction. “Heh, looks like I’m winning the bet.”

You scoff, but it comes out so pathetically like a whine. “You’re a cheater, I’d have w-won this bet otherwise.”

Ah, how Geto loved your smart mouth - though, he probably loved it even more when you’re fucked dumb. But, right now, bet at the forefront of his mind, the next best thing he could do is shove those sinful panties into your mouth. 

Hand flying up and down his cock faster and faster as you choke like such a slut on it. Greedily eyeing the way your lip wobbles, big fat tears welling up in your eyes, cunt all glistening and quivering as Geto blindly reaches behind to grab ahold of that remote again. 

Intensity setting 4. 

“And you’re too cute.” he drops his head, breath ghosting your lips. “So if you ask me nicely I might just-” Thumb playing around with the intensity, pressing down, hard. As if it would translate to your needy cunt, “-give you my cock, gorgeous.”

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzt-

It’s all you can do to keen as his fingers get faster on the remote, other hand getting so sloppy on his painfully hard cock. Matching that sinful little ah! ah! ah! leaving your swollen lips. Sinful - and stubborn, still refusing to say those words that you knew Geto wanted to hear so badly. 

“Awww, still not giving up?” At your delirious little headshake, “Then how about this?” 

Intensity setting 5. 

And shit it makes you arch off the bed entirely. It makes you let out a strangled yelp of, “Oh- fuck. Fuck fuck fuck Sugu, m’gonna-” It makes you cum.

“Tha’s it.” Geto can’t help but let go of his aching cock to draw rough, messy little circles on your clit. Grinning at the way you’re so pretty when you cum untouched - all for him. Over and over and- He reaches over to catch your lips with his, tongue dancing with yours, around your soaked panties. 

So filthy and dizzying that he almost forgets about that bet - almost. Because you’re murmuring something so incoherent into his lips. 

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzt-

God, doesn’t matter who wins next time - he needs to fucking do this again.

“What’s that?” he leans in tauntingly, pulling the fabric out of your mouth, finger still running circles around the intensity. Absolutely addicted to the way you’re twitching and whining at the aftershocks of your orgasm, “M’sorry, gorgeous, this vibrator is too loud. Speak up f’me, hm?”

“P-please fuck me, Sugu.”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - 21 hours

If Choso had it his way, then you’d both still be at home and he’d be balls-deep inside your sloppy pussy - fucking you over and over into the mattress until the neighbours file another noise complaint. 

But, alas, Jin Itadori was sure to hire a hitman - or worse, Sukuna - on him if he missed another family dinner. Which is how it ended up with you, sat so prettily across the table from him, watching through his long lashes at the way that red dress hugged you so sinfully. 

So right, in a way that made Choso almost jealous. So irresistibly, in a way that had Sukuna looking over a few too many times and-

Choso’s chair almost hits the floor with how fast he stands.

Fuck it.

“Sh-shit, Choso I-” 

“Keep ah- that dress up, baby. Unless ya wanna get it d-dirty.” he’s panting into your open mouth,  tongue so hotly toying with yours as he gives you another harsh thrust. “Though, I don’t ngh- mind.”

And he was telling the truth, too. Choso was in no way gentle with the way he had you sat on the bathroom counter, flimsy dress bunched up at your hips. Strong arms spreading your legs so shamefully while he bullied his cock into you with reckless abandon.

Over and over and-

“Cho!” you yelp, as he hits that one spot so expertly. Flashing you a fucked-out grin as how you’re scrambling to cover your mouth. “Th-they’ll hear.”

“So?”

And it’s all you can do to stop your jaw from falling slack once more - both in disbelief and at the way he’s fucking you so mean. So desperately like he hasn’t in months - years, even. Just unfocused, sloppy movements to milk his cock on your snug cunt.

“I don’t mind hah- that either.” Hand dipping underneath your soaked panties - just lazily pulled to the side - to roll your swollen clit between two fingers. “W-what I do mind is my oh- fuck girl holdin’ out on me and wearing that fucking dress on the s-same day.”

Oh you knew you were pushing the limits of your sex ban by wearing his favorite dress, that it would drive him absolutely wild. You just didn’t know it would be this easy.

“But you promised.” you’re letting out such broken little whines, muffled through your fingers, ones that go straight to Choso’s achingly hard cock. “You hngh- promised we wouldn’t at your family’s…”

The only response you get is Choso rolling his hips deeper into yours, so bruising in a way you knew would make you feel so guilty even when all the marks are covered up. Leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck in time with the way he alternates between hitting your poor, abused cervix and that one spot. 

Gasping out a ragged, “I know- I know I know fuck- Hah- I know.” Words strained - like he was losing a bit of his sanity with each thrust. And needed you to be the same. “But shit, baby. Do you know how p-pretty you look right now? Hngh- how fuckable?”

“Y-you’re so fuckin’ dirty.” you mewl, as if you were any better. As if your gummy walls weren’t sucking the fuckin soul out of Choso right now. “Should’ve made the ngh- sex ban even long-”

He bites down at the soft crook of your neck, growling out a little, “Don’t even joke about that.” 

And if Choso expected a response, then he didn’t act that way. 

Hips just erratic against yours, fingers even worse. Not even moving in circles anymore, just messy, sloppy patterns to-

No. 

You gasp at the realization, the deft movements of Choso’s fingers, and it just makes you all the more fucked-out underneath him. Scrambling to grab at the counter - Choso’s hair - his shoulders - just anything and everything to stop yourself from alerting the entire household to what you two were up to. Letting him fuck you like his favorite sextoy, fingers so so messy and spelling out a relentless little C-H-O-S-O-C-H-O-S-

And then you’re cumming and cumming so hard that it almost hurts. Stars behind your eyes, blood roaring in your eyes. Choso’s massive cock fucking any and every thought of the dinner just downstairs out of your mind. 

“F-fuck fuck fuck- ngh- we’re never coming back here for dinner again.”

And it’s all you can do to drag your nails down his broad back, leaving deep red marks that make his balls squeeze so painfully. 

It makes him throw his head back, gasping out your name so loud. It makes him pull your hips so bruisingly against his. 

It makes him cum, spilling thick, hot ropes of cum into your pussy. So messy with the way it’s too much to bear, dribbling down your swollen folds, forming a lewd little pool below you. And Choso doesn’t give a fuck - doesn’t care if he leaves marks that everyone will see. Or if that slutty dress of yours has a suspicious little damp patch as he swiftly pulls out to snap your panties back in place. 

Whispering lowly against your lips, “K-keep it in till we leave, hm?”

“Cho-”

Knock! Knock! Knock!

“The fuck? You brats fall in or something?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - 2 days

The great Ryomen Sukuna has always been terrifying - but never before has he been this ruthless. So utterly savage. Destroying every single curse he comes across in the blink of an eye - friend or foe, big or small. 

Why? All because he hasn’t been able to fuck your pretty lil’ cunt in two days. Which, in his opinion, are two days too long. All because of some stupid little experiment about wanting to see how long it would take to see the king of curses crack.

And when those trembling curses heard about this ah- sex ban through the grapevine, well, they wrote it off as another baseless rumor. Ha, Ryomen Sukuna cracking? Never. 

“Please…brat.” he bites down on your earlobe, further pushing up your expensive robes - ones he’d bought just to get on your good side - to sink his cock deeper inside your heavenly cunt. “There I said it. Now jus’ a bit more-”

And maybe you’re a mastermind - maybe you’re an idiot. Because you’re digging your heels into the mattress, pushing off ever-so-slightly from his aching hard cock. So thick and angry as it slips out of your sloppy hole. 

You bat your lashes so deceivingly innocently up at a pissed off Sukuna, “I didn’t like your tone.” Crossing your legs to cover that view he was so fixated on, “Either you beg n’ start all over again or-”

“Fine.” he grits out the word, like it physically hurt to. Though, nothing for what falls from his lips next, “Please.”

“Louder.”

“Please.”

There you had it. And you can’t help but smirk, “Well, I liked that one-”

Nothing more is said - in Sukuna’s eyes, nothing more has to be said. Because he’s got his favorite lil’ human all needy and spread so shamefully in front of him, what more could he want? Sukuna grabs your ankles, pulling you to him like a ragdoll. Wasting no time before he’s splitting you apart on his rock-hard cock.

“Ya don’t hah- know how many curses I killed these past two days.” he kisses your ankles so softly. “How many I wanted to kill.”

And God, if you didn’t know any better you’d say it’s like he wanted to kill you with the way Sukuna barely even gives you time to adjust. Stuffing you full of his cock, so hot and thumping against your gummy walls in a maddening little bump! bump! bump! 

Letting out a strangled moan of, “There you go.” Brows scrunching together, looking wrecked already as he rocks his hips into yours - fast. Hard. hands coming up underneath your ass to arch you deeper into him, “Squeezin’ me so- tight. Heh, almost ”

“Oh hngh- ‘Kuna!” you moan, eyes snapping down to the way your cunt was taking him up so good. Puffy folds bulging around his massive cock, looking like they were sucking the fucking soul out of Sukuna as his massive cock disappears in and out in and out in and- “S’too- much-”

“Shut up.” he drops his head, one hand so bruising all over your body - groping your ass, your tits, playing with your throbbing clit. “Ya wanted hah- me to talk, right? And I say-” The other, squeezing your cheeks together into a pathetic lil’ pout, “Open up.”

It’s so embarrassing the way you can’t do anything but let your mouth fall open so sluttily, tongue lolling out just in time to catch the stream of saliva as Sukuna spits once. Twice. 

So filthy with the way he lets it splatter against the corner of your mouth - on purpose. 

“Wanted the king to beg, huh?” Each word is punctuated by such a harsh thrust, twitching balls stinging against your ass. “Well you got it. H-how does it feel, huh?”

And you couldn’t speak up even if you wanted to. Sukuna’s hand too tight around your face, cock too merciless. Slamming his hips down faster and faster as he runs his mouth, like he was taking revenge for the last two days. Again. And again. And again and again-

Grinning at your delirious little gurgles, “Heh, what? Can’t talk?” 

And as if to prove his point, Sukuna loops two big arms around your waist, falling back on his knees with you sat like such a slut on his cock. Fingers lacing above your head to sink you impossibly deeper and deeper-

“Oh my god- K-” Your breath hitches as he fucks up into you so easily. Feeling more and more like some plaything with each ripple of his muscles underneath your legs. So hard you were sure it would leave marks - both confirming and condemning those rumors you knew have been flying around. His balls on your ass, thighs underneath yours, nails dragging lightly down your skin. 

Resting on your waist, holding your quivering hips still as he grunts, “Now shut up. M’gonna get my fill of the last two days.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - 4 hours

To the great Gojo Satoru, this droning, 4-hour meeting with the elders was a nightmare. To you, it was exactly where you wanted him

It wasn’t often that the strongest was tense - jittery, even, like he was about to jump out of his seat at any given moment. But, really, it was almost impossible not to, considering that stern talking-to you’d given him about “no sneaking out during meetings.” Especially when you’re sat across from him looking so beautifully unbothered.

Your smile too pretty, your uniform unbuttoned just enough that it gave him such a heavenly view when you bent over just so.  

Oh, how Gojo wishes he could just-

And that was when he felt it. 

That slow, slight touch up his inner thigh - so fleeting and light that he almost thinks he’s imagining it. But, no, Gojo could never mistake any touch from you. 

It sends his entire skin burning to catch your eye ever-so-briefly from across the table. A tiny smirk gracing those pretty lips as your heel inches up, up, up-

“Gojo, do you have anything to comment on the recent increase in curse sightings?”

He stifles a groan underneath one palm, the other snaking under the table just in time to catch your ankle before you can carefully slip away. “I think…” he manages to grit out, heady gaze flitting over to yours, “-that is a question my lovely wife and I must discuss first.”

Oh? 

And then, your back is hitting a plush mattress before you know it - long before the realization hits you that this bastard just fucking teleported the two of you to your bedroom. 

“T-Toru-” you sputter out, whatever reprimand getting stuck in your throat at how desperate Gojo was acting. Your uniform buttons hitting the floor as he rips open your shirt, hands bunching up your skirt, only having enough patience to just pull aside your soaked panties, rolling your pretty clit between two fingers. Needy. “The meeting-”

“The meeting isn’t here now, right?” 

Words so hoarse it takes you a moment to recognize it as your husband’s. You were only beginning to wonder just what the fuck you’ve gotten yourself into when Gojo tugs down his pants just enough that his rock-hard cock springs free.

And oh then it makes sense. Because Gojo was so hard that it looked painful - so so red, and angry. Soaked in enough precum that it made a damp little patch on his trousers, heavy balls twitching at the mere sound of your voice.

“D-didn’t I say no sneaking out this time, Toru?” You buck into his touch, despite your words, eyes locked on the way Gojo stops toying with your clit to pool your sweet sweet juices on his fingertips.

“You did.” Raising his long, glossy fingers to those pretty pink lips, “But this is teleporting, not sneaking out, sweetheart.”

Gojo’s like a man possessed as he pops your slick-covered fingers into his mouth, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the sinful taste. 

Gasping out a wet, “Fuck the ban. Can’t go without ya. Can’t-” One hand sliding his fat tip between your swollen folds, up and down up and down - spreading them apart, just barely dipping into your sloppy entrance. “-can’t live without this pretty cunt.”

And then it’s like something snaps - Gojo’s patience, his sanity, the last of his restraint as he sinks his throbbing cock into your plushy walls. 

Pushing past that first, tight ring of muscle, and at the first feeling of your gummy walls milking his cock, he pants out a strained, “Fuck- oh fuck fuck fuck, yer the stuff of dreams, my girl. This cunt- ngh-” Pushing your legs further apart, fingers back on your clit “-would’ve fucked this cunt right in ah- front of those old toads. But, you’re lucky I’m a jealous man.”

“Oh- oh my god, s’too- too- big!”

God, you needed to spread your legs more - as if they weren’t being folded apart so easily by a delirious Gojo - maybe breathe, try to relax because Gojo was so big. And so unforgiving. 

Feeling like he was pushing all the way into your lungs as he thrusts in quick, shallow little thrusts to bully himself inside your snug cunt. Jagged - like he was fighting with some absolutely, depraved, feral part of himself. 

You can feel the way your hips are torn between pushing away and grinding back down for more more more- And Gojo can, too.

“No-” he hisses. Brows scrunching in frustration, hips becoming more and more sloppy - frenzied. “No no no no no- hold on, sweetheart. Need this, need this so bad.”

Going faster. 

Deeper. 

You sob, ankles locking around his slutty waist. “B-but Toru-” You make a feeble last attempt at regaining your sanity. Your entire body jolting as Gojo presses so hard on your clit. “-we should ngh- hurry up. W-we’ll be late to the meeting-”

But does it really matter? Gojo doesn’t think so, not when he finally bottoms out in one, rough thrust. Groaning as his sensitive balls smack your ass.

Your cunt so slutty and tight - sucking him up so good despite your cute lil’ pleas about something stupid like “responsibilities”. 

So he really can’t help the way he wastes no time before reeling his hips back - all the way till his weeping tip is just kissing your sloppy hole. Before fucking into you completely - rough. Unrestrained. The same way he imagined taking you on that meeting room table. Over and over and-

“Not yet.” he grins against your lips, “We’re not done discussing the recent increase in curse sightings.”

A/N. Gojo’s came out toooo long I don’t even like this man fr (loud incorrect buzzer).

Plagiarism not authorized.