Maboiisuga

Bloody

Hellhound Umemiya Hajime x female reader

tw: blood and gore, hard vore (not reader), mentions of miscarriage and domestic abuse, physical abuse, yandere-ish

Fairy & Rhi’s Big Bad Valentines Event ~ Here there be monsters

“Girl, take the beast into town.”

You nod mutely. Speak when spoken to, not spoken at, a lesson imparted swiftly and one you do well to remember. 

The Magister gestures at a stuffed knapsack with a roll of parchment, undoubtedly serving as your list for the day, by the door. “Be back by nightfall.” 

You’re dismissed with a flick of his wrist, the Magister already poring over the heavy tome on his desk, a gnarled, ancient finger trawling across the page, muttering to himself in a language you don’t understand. Before the metal collar around your throat can wake, you turn and shoulder the knapsack, gently stuffing the list into the pocket of your dress, and off to find the beast you go.

The cemetery grounds sprawl around the manor, with the sun burning high, you don’t have the time to waste searching for the hellhound. A quick glance tells you he’s not in the immediate vicinity, and, well, you’d know it if he was. There’s nothing for it. From your boot, you pull a small, thin blade and quickly slice it across your palm, biting back on a hiss. Blood wells to the surface – not much, it wasn’t a deep cut, but enough. Tilting your hand, three drops spill to the earth, soaking into the dirt. 

“Umemiya.”

The clouds don’t part and the ground doesn’t shake, one moment there’s nothing, and the next–

“You rang?” The growling rasp of a voice behind you almost immediately dissolves into a bark of laughter, the hellhound endlessly amused by his own quip.

“I need to go into town for the Magister’s deliveries,” you say, eyes fixed to the ground, your own voice quiet. “Would you come with me? Please.” Magister’s orders or not, you don’t dare presume to command anything from a creature who could rip you apart with a single, lazy swat. 

A gust of warm breath billows over you, tousling your hair; an amused chuff. “I suppose I could be convinced.”

This is the part you hate. You squirm on the spot, blunt fingernails biting into the palm of your hand. “There’s a man in town, the baker’s son,” you eventually mumble. A name – not even that. You aren’t condemning him, although he certainly deserves it, merely pointing out his existence.

Although, you suppose that excuse wears thin when, once night falls and you’re safely returned to the manor, Umemiya will take your words to heart and hunt him like prey to devour.

The first time, with the guard you’d seen tormenting one of the stable boys, he’d left the arm on the ground beneath your window, partially chewed, but unmistakable. Proof, you suppose, of his end of the deal. 

He always leaves something. An arm. A mangled foot. Once, part of what you think was a man’s liver. If you weren’t so deathly afraid of him, you might’ve considered asking him to stop, but you haven’t and so he doesn’t. 

“The Baker’s son.” He sounds like he’s mulling it over, weighing the taste of your choice in his head. “You sure?”

No. “Yes.” 

The Magister’s never given any indication he’s aware of the demands his pet hellhound makes every time you’re sent to fetch him. If you give the name of someone the Magister has plans for and he finds out, the punishment won’t be pleasant. If you refuse to make the choice and leave Umemiya behind, the collar around your neck will burn through skin and mangle your throat. You’ll live, and wish you hadn’t. 

But the baker’s son beats his wife and she lost their baby. His name is as good as any.

You turn. The hulking mass of muscle, teeth and claws behind you sits on his haunches, ash white fur wreathed in smoke, two thick horns cracked with veins of glowing red protrude from the top of his head, reaching skyward. He grins, as much as a hellhound can manage, and chuffs again. “No one else?”

Your blood runs cold. Another? 

Does he– is he– 

You don’t have anyone else on your list. Not yet. You need time, you need– you can’t just condemn another person, someone who might be innocent. “N-no?”

Umemiya snorts, leans forward and jolts you into motion with his snout. You take it as acceptance of terms struck and re-shoulder the knapsack.

The journey into town is at least two hours on foot. Dawdling is not a luxury you can afford. 

—

“You’re late. Idiot girl.”

The crack across your face sends you to the floor, ears ringing. Blood, hot and coppery, coats your tongue, your teeth. Seeps from the scratch his garnet ring left behind and drips into the ground below. 

The Magister said nightfall. You know he said nightfall. 

Like a dog, he kicks at your stomach, and like a dog, you curl up to make yourself small and whimper into the dirt. Your face throbs and stings in equal measure. Tears burn unshed and it feels like you’re going to throw up with every shallow, wheezing breath. 

The sun hasn’t set. The collar at your throat lies cold. 

You haven’t broken the rules; the Magister doesn’t care. 

“Next time you’ll do as I say, hm?” Always condescending. Dismissive. Cruel, because whatever shrivelled up inside of his chest surely isn’t a heart. 

You did nothing wrong. You never do and it never makes a difference.

In that moment, it isn’t pain or shock or despair for the unfairness of it all that sparks in your chest and bleeds through your veins like poison. Spitting a mouthful of bloody saliva into the dirt, you screw your eyes shut and surrender to it, for better or worse. 

“Umemiya.”

This time, a growl precedes his arrival. Dark and thunderous, it rattles at your ribs, you feel it down to your core. His shadow sweeps over you, blocking out the dying daylight, and still, you keep your eyes squeezed shut.

“What, you think the beast will help you? Foolish, stupid girl.” 

The insult misses its mark, fuel to the black pit seething inside of you. 

Give me a name. The words aren’t spoken aloud, you hear them in your head, whisper soft but unbending and unflinching. An order. A plea. And it occurs to you then, what Umemiya was pushing for earlier. What he’d been trying to pull from the first time you’d summoned him. He isn’t loyal to the monster who collared you.

The hellhound belongs to the cemetery.

“The Magister.”

You don’t open your eyes when the screams begin, savage snarls and snapping bones. The wet tear of muscle and flesh, the agonised gurgles of an old, dying man. 

The crunching continues long after the cries die out, but you don’t move an inch. You don’t dare look, certain that if you do, you’ll lose the battle you’re waging with your stomach. Violently. The sounds are bad enough.

The padding of his steps is near silent, but the purring rumble as he approaches gives his presence away, and when something wet and heavy drops to the ground in front of you, you slowly crack open an eye.

Umemiya, maw dripping with red, great splatters of it marring his coat, slowly lowers his head to nuzzle at your cheek.

“Give me a name,” he pleads.

His tongue laps at the drying blood, and as your hands sink into the soft, smokey fur, and you gingerly ease yourself upright, you look to the gift he’s laid before you.

The Magister’s heart, a little chewed up, but unmistakable. 

“The parents who sold me.”

Please repost and share this information.

This is very scary and concerning for black people. AGAIN DEHUMANIZING BLACK PEOPLE

Boack people health conditions aren't taken seriously compared to others.Many black people are scared to go to the hospital for this reason

Black women are 4x likely to die from complications of childbirth than white women in the United states.they've had experience that has unacceptably poor maternal health outcomes

Unhoneymooners!? - G.S.

Synopsis. The universe was surely playing a joke on you. Here you were, trapped on a luxury getaway with your - dangerously handsome, extremely obnoxious - ex. Either you were going to kill each other or end up pinned beneath him, split apart on his cóck. You just didn’t know what would come first.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, exes to lovers, unprotected, argument as foreplay, slight enemies to lovers, more like annoyances actually, cunnilingus, oral (male + female), spitting, creampire, rough, Satoru is still EXTREMELY down bad for you, and unfairly hot, forced proximity, cúmplay, pet names (sweetheart), swearing.

Word count. 8.5k

A/N. It’s impossible to not write Satoru without bullying him at least a little bit.

You broke up with Gojo Satoru exactly 5 months, 2 weeks, and 16 hours ago - not that you were keeping count, of course.

So why was he outside of your resort room blasting “Kill Bill” by SZA like he’s auditioning for the world’s most dramatic comeback tour? On what should’ve marked your fourth anniversary, no less.

Well, given you were the one to lock him out, but still - the stubborn bastard could at least have some decorum. 

With an exasperated sigh, you throw yourself onto the king-sized bed of your honeymoon suite, trying to will away that annoying, grating voice - not SZA, no, more so Satoru singing along at the top of his lungs to the chorus. 

How did you even get here? And with Satoru of all people - your Satoru. Or at least he was this time a little over a year ago. 

You first met Satoru when you were in university, back when he wore those pretentious circled sunglasses and waltzed around those halls like he owned the place. And after a single literature assignment together, he wasn’t just your (self-proclaimed) best friend; he was the reluctantly favorite thorn in your side. 

Like the rest of him, Satoru’s introduction into your love-life was anything but subtle. It wasn’t like he strolled in, gave a polite nod, and blended into the background. Oh no, he bulldozed his way in and dragged you to dance with him on the tables of some dingy frat party in what you could only assume was some joke from the universe at your expense.

And damn him, you think bitterly, you couldn't resist him that night. Spinning you into a dramatic dip, silver chain brushing your face as his half-lidded eyes bored into yours. You couldn’t not kiss him after the way his hands were just searing into your skin. 

God, you’ve never been able to listen to “Gasolina” the same way ever since.  

Satoru was in love as he was in the rest of life - a force of nature, and it was too easy to find yourself caught up in him.

That night at the frat party was just the beginning. From then on was a rollercoaster of everything from heated debates over the best flavor of ramen to impromptu road trips where you’d end up under a carpet of stars. Wrapped in each other’s arms and sharing whispered secrets for an unpromised future - oftentimes where Satoru would crack a joke or two about running away to Tokyo with him. To which you’d laugh it off with a “Yeah yeah, I’d leave everything I’ve known behind in a heartbeat for your dumbass, Toru.”

You just didn’t think that it would be the downfall to your relationship. All the empty promises. 

Because as those heavenly days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, eventually two years had gone by. The whirlwind romance settled into a comfortable rhythm, but with it came the looming promise of graduation and Satoru moving to work under his family company in Tokyo.

Under pressure, it wasn’t long before the cracks began to show, the arguments more frequent, and the silences more deafening. And as your relationship slowly turned into nothing more than a husk of what it used to be - so did the both of you.

Long story short, graduation was a bittersweet goodbye - and you think both of you knew long before it was actually over. Neither of you attended the afterparty - with Satoru on a flight straight to Tokyo and you at home to stuff your face with chocolate. Hey, at least you could blame your tears on finally leaving university, right? 

You had meticulously erased his name from your phone, your social media, and even your dreams - well, almost, the bastard still came around to bother you occasionally. It was messy, painful, and final.

But “final” really didn’t explain your current predicament. Because if there’s one thing you’ve learned about Satoru is that he’s always there - whether you liked it or not. He was there when you needed a partner for that literature assignment, and he was there to turn your world upside down at that dingy frat party.

Hell, he was even there to help you stubbornly chug mountains of ice cream and win that raffle for this five day-long getaway trip to the Maldives. Though, you think he might’ve chugged the ice cream without the promise of a vacation anyway.

But, when ultimately those shiny tickets came in the mail - Satoru wasn’t there. Oh well, it might’ve been a couple’s trip - but you could have a hot girl summer, right? Maybe you could even snag a hottie by the end. You’d almost forgotten that he’d be getting his copy of the tickets as well.

Yet, unfortunately - as the beginning notes of P!nk’s “So What” bursts through the heavy wooden door - you were inevitably reminded of the fact that he was here. Right now. Goading you into coming outside.

You find yourself groaning inwardly (and outwardly) because of course, why wouldn’t he come back even more obnoxious than before? You haven’t seen him in ages, yet here he is, crashing back into your life with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Or - you furrow your brows at his purposefully off-key singing carrying over the sounds of the waves outside - with the subtlety of a manchild with a JBL and a premium account on Spotify.  

Rubbing your temples in frustration, you contemplate how much longer of this it would take before you’re both kicked out of this resort. And after you ate so many ice creams to win this getaway trip? No chance.

With a resigned sigh, you rise from the bed, smoothing out the bathing suit you’d just put on before the devil incarnate showed up knocking at your door. Something hot and prickly pools in your stomach as you approach it, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at the sheer absurdity of the situation. So like Satoru.

Taking a deep breath to steel yourself, you shakily reach for the handle. It’s fine. It’s not a big deal actually.

…

What’s the worst that can happen?

Slam! 

The door swings open, and there in all his smug glory stands a very shirtless Satoru. Gojo pain-in-your-ass Satoru, the same asshole you’ve blocked on even Gmail. 

Except, you’re momentarily struck by how high you have to raise your eyes to meet his. Are growth spurts even a thing anymore? You didn’t have a chance to take a good look last time before slamming the door shut at the first flash of white hair and a smug grin.

But right now, traitorously, your gaze catches on just how broad his shoulders look and…since when was he so chiseled? Damn you, Tokyo - you were doing him too good.

His hair is slightly longer too, curtaining those slightly more mature features, stopping just above that ever-immature grin. One which moves as he hums, “Well, happy fourth anniversary to me, If I knew this came with the suite then I’d have swam here myself.”

You scoff, suddenly feeling strangely self-conscious as he wiggles his brows, striking blue eyes sweeping your figure from head to toe. “I’d prefer if you swam back. What are you doing?” 

“Why, just showing up to our room on our lil’ honeymoon, sweetheart.” Satoru sing-songs, leaning against the doorframe to fully prevent you from slamming the door in his (admittedly) pretty face again. “And before you try to break my nose with that door again, I won that ticket here fair and square, y’know. I ate just as much ice cream as you did for it.”

“You ate most of those before you knew about the getaway raffle.” you sigh over his nonchalant shrug, pinching your nose, “And stop calling it our honeymoon, I dumped you five months ago.”

“Well aren’t you just the gift that keeps on giving. Keeping count?”

“No. Don’t be a pest.”

“Always thought you had a thing for pests. After all, you did date me.” As Satoru grins impossibly wider, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. He winks, “And if I’m a pest then you’re an itch that just won’t go away.”

“At least I’m not the itch that shows up uninvited to someone’s honeymoon suite.” you hiss. And with that you start shutting the door ever-so-slowly, delighting in the panic that overtakes Satoru’s features as he reaches out frantically.

“Hey!” he sputters, “I didn’t know you’d be here! And besides this ‘pest’ forgot his slippers all the way in Tokyo and can’t stand on flaming-hot boardwalks for too long so let me in.”

And sure enough, you glance down to see that Satoru isn’t wearing any slippers on the scorching boardwalk. The realization almost brings a smirk to your lips. This idiot. 

“Wow.”

“‘Wow’ at my feet or-”

“I should leave you here to rot just for your pure idiocy.” you deadpan, eyes locked on the way he’s burning his soles off yet still has the audacity to flash you a cocky smile.

“But you won’t.” he hums.

A beat passes. One. Two. And Satoru’s grin almost falters, before you finally relent - opening the door just a crack, cursing his entire bloodline under your breath. “You’re incorrigible” you mutter as he saunters inside victoriously, dragging his hefty luggage behind.

“Why change perfection, sweetheart~” he calls out, heading straight for the bedroom, only to let out a delighted “OooOOo” at the sight of the king-sized bed in the middle. The only bed. “How scandalous, maybe you’ll even fall in lov-” 

“Don’t. I’d rather gouge my eyes out with a seashell.” you warn, holding up both keycards threateningly, “I get the bed, you take the couch.”

“But-”

“And I’ve got the keys, so slippers or not you’ll be back out on that boardwalk.” 

A slight smile tugging at the corners of your lips at the way Satoru looked so dramatically crestfallen, you continue - just to be petty, “And no more ‘Kill Bill’ that’s on my angry ex playlist.”

With a heavy sigh he sulkily makes his way to the bathroom, calling out as he does, “Fine. But I’m showering first.”

As he disappears from sight you throw yourself onto your bed, basking in what little peace and quiet you’ll have because of your unwanted guest. This was going to be a-

“And I’m using all of your body lotions.”

“...”

“I will use one of your body lotions.”

Groaning, you sink into the plush mattress, just wishing it would swallow you whole and spare you from this torment. And this was only Day 1? This was going to be a very long five days. 

---

The first night with Satoru, honestly, wasn’t too bad. 

You don’t know what you expected exactly - maybe for him to pour hair dye in your shampoo or something. But he actually stuck to his word, slept on the couch after only a bit of taunting, and used only one of your body lotions. Your best-smelling, most expensive one, but one nonetheless.

Feeling slightly more optimistic, you spent most of the second day at the beach, meanwhile he stuck to lounging by the pool. Add in a bit of pretending you didn’t know him by the salad bar at dinner and that made for an almost-perfect hot girl summer. 

Well, considering that you were rooming with your insufferable longtime ex - in a honeymoon suite of all places. 

The only catch came that night, fully content at the burning soreness from being pushed around by the waves outside. You got ready to splay out on your bed, humming along to the tunes of your playlist and…Satoru’s lamenting?

“I swear my back feels like it’s been run over by a truck. Five of them, and a zoo.” he complains from behind you, dramatically draping himself over the couch - his impromptu bed. 

“Good.”

“What if that was my last straw?”

“Even better.”

His exaggerated, disappointed whine is both embarrassing and almost-endearing as you roll your eyes, resisting the urge to suffocate him with a pillow. “Maybe call your chiropractor guy.”

Satoru shot you a pointed look, his expression a mixture of faux innocence and irritation, which you knew too well. “I wish but he’s trekking through the Himalayas. C’mon~ Don’t you think that lovely king-sized bed is too big for just one?”

“No, but the boardwalk sure is. Maybe you should try it out.” you monotone, getting ready to end this conversation once and for all. 

But when has Satoru ever let you off easy? He sits up abruptly, a devious smile curling his lips. “Ohh, I get it.” he taunts, batting his long lashes mockingly, “You’re scared to sleep in the same bed with me.”

Huh?

“Out of all the idiotic-” you cut yourself off by whirling around to face his smug grin, “Why would I be scared to sleep in a bed with you. I’ve done that far too many times already.”

“Exactly,” he chuckles. “And all those times you could barely last an hour before without keeping your hands off of me. Scared you’ll end up pinned underneath me and stuffed full like old times, sweetheart?”

You narrow your eyes at him despite the heat burning your face. “The only thing I’m scared of is your icicle feet on my side.”

He laughs, a sound that’s equal parts irritating and endearing, and stands up from where he was slumped on the couch. Making his way slowly, but surely towards you, “Oh, c’mon. For old times’ sake, admit it, you miss me.”

"Yeah, missed the peace and quiet I don’t have because of your big mouth,” you scoff. Finding it hard to meet his twinkling gaze as he comes close enough that you’re toe to toe with him. Your cheeks burn at the proximity - hot enough to match the heat radiating off his body. 

Satoru shakes his head, undeterred by your threats. And suddenly you get the overwhelming urge to throw him out the window and straight into the ocean. “You can deny it all you want, but you still have feelings for me.”

Your jaw clenches at his audacity. “You wish. I’d never.”

“Then prove it.”

Damn, he was good.

Which is probably how you found yourself lying in the same bed as Satoru, with a wall of all the pillows in the room erected between you two - and a few extra from room service just in case. 

“Sweetheart, this is a king-sized bed. Is the fortress really necessary?”

You wrap your blankets tighter around yourself, trying to ignore the figure radiating warm right next to you. Muttering out a muffled little, “Yeah, so you can keep your mitts off of me.”

Satoru groans dramatically, bed creaking as he shuffles what you can only assume to be closer to you. “You keep your mitts off of me, you lecher.” he quips, voice dripping with sarcasm as he inches closer.

You stiffen at his proximity, feeling his warmth seep through the layers of blankets and pillows as he chuckles softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine, “Oh, come on, don’t be like that. We used to share a bed all the time.”

“That was before,” you interject. God, you didn’t like where this conversation was going. 

“Before what?” Satoru presses, his voice low and insistent. 

Now, you might’ve let yourself be goaded into sharing a bed but these were old wounds better off left alone. You hiss, tone firm, “Before. Now sleep” 

Before when you didn’t have to make a wall of pillows. Before when he would hold you tight and whisper sweet secrets into your ear. That he’d buy you the biggest ring he saw and promise you the world. Before- 

“I missed you, y’know.” Satoru breaks the silence barely audible over the sound of your own thoughts. The word pangs through your mind and claws at your chest. And at your silence he continues, tone a little lighter, “And stop hogging all the blankets, I’m gonna freeze to-”

“Boardwalk.”

“My apologies, ma’am. Goodnight, ma’am.”

And he sinks back into his pillow with a huff, you let out a sigh of relief. Something hot coiling in your stomach as you close try to catch as much sleep as you possibly could with the bane of your existence laying right beside you. The suddenly taller, dangerously handsome, still as-obnoxious-as-ever bane of your existence. 

You just wonder if he remembered “before”.

Oh, how Satoru remembered “before”. So much so that he had sixteen different playlists dedicated to you even after the breakup.

It’s divine punishment - it has to be. Satoru thinks there’s no reasonable explanation for the series of unfortunate events happening to him other than punishment from his ancestors above for being such a pussy and losing the love of his life.

First he forgets his slippers, then he ends up locked out of his own honeymoon suite by said love of his life. Granted, all thoughts of his poor burnt soles went out the window the moment he caught a glimpse of you in that positively sinful bikini. God, were you glowing. A goddess upon Earth - he could really give the Gojo Satoru of five months ago a good, hard kick.

And now he’s stuck in a - very comfortable - prison with you just inches away, tossing and turning in that way he knows means that you can’t sleep either. 

Honestly, very funny universe, the great Gojo Satoru demands a refund. Way to punk’d him into confronting the feelings he’s desperately been trying to bury these past few months - ever since he got on that plane to Tokyo and contemplated faking a heart attack just to get off. 

Realizing just then that he lost the love of his life - and the only woman who’d tolerate his karaoke nights. But with that realization came another, more jarring one: he was too late. 

Every touch, every laugh, and even every time you rolled your eyes was etched into his very soul, and it felt like a montage from a sappy breakup movie directed by a sadistic screenwriter who had it out for him. 

And it really didn’t help that this was the exact suite he was planning once upon a time to propose in. God, how you’d feed him to the crabs if he said anything about that - nevermind the fact that he was actually one that booked this-

But still, some traitorous, annoying part of his heart interrupts, she still hasn’t made you sleep on the boardwalk yet.

Maybe - just maybe - he’ll wake up to a second chance?

…

Ha. As if.

“I can’t sleep.” Satoru groans out loud, more so to drown out his own thoughts than anything.

“Well, I can. Goodnight.”

Ah, his girl was such a lil’ liar. Undeterred, the mattress creaks as he shuffles his weight to excitedly face you, taking a moment to admire how pretty you looked under the dim moonlight. He plows on, “Hey, if you promise not to make me crab food, wanna walk along the beach and watch the stars?”

A beat of silence. One. Two. so deafening and tense that Satoru was half a second away from obnoxiously laughing it off as a joke and pulling out his Emo Times™ playlist. 

“Or I can go back to the couch and-”

“Shut up. Let’s watch the stars, Satoru.”

But what do you know - maybe the universe hasn’t given up on him just yet. 

And, well, if he woke up the next morning breaching your fortress - your warm breath tickling his neck and his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, like the lifeline he never knew he needed - then, neither of you mentioned it.

---

“Hey, Satoru. You think we’ll always be like this?” you hum into your boyfriend’s chest, barely a whisper as the looming fears of, well, everything ring in your mind. 

He pulls you close, flashing a mischievous grin before planting a dramatic kiss on the top of your head. “Duh, I’ll always be around to drive you dangerously close to a stroke, sweetheart.” 

You roll your eyes, yet bury yourself closer to his warmth anyway.

“Besides, it doesn’t matter if I have to drag you by the leg to Tokyo. Wherever you are is where I belong. ”

---

You’ve come to learn that a resort island is only so big when you’re actively trying to avoid your 6’3 manchild of an ex.

Now that you were rooming with Satoru, sleeping with Satoru (in a literal sense only, of course), and just-so-happening to bump into him at the beach - somehow, talking with him is a little easier, his presence just a bit more exciting than you’d care to admit. 

If the you of four days ago could see what had become of you, then she’d probably slap some sense into you faster than you could say “Kill Bill”. Sleeping in the same bed (still only literally), having dinner, watching the stars - with Gojo Satoru? You’ve gone completely off your rocker. 

But could you really be blamed? These last few days have you feeling like maybe you’ve been dropped into an alternate universe, where you and Satoru never broke up. 

Yet, reality is a persistent little bastard. And with the end of your trip looming dangerously closer, the past you would be cackling mockingly in your face, flashing a large sign in big, red letters reading “I TOLD you so.” 

Whatever. Maybe by this time tomorrow both of you could laugh this all off as a silly little adventure and call yourself somewhat begrudging friends. Maybe you’d even end up unblocking him by the end - on Gmail, at least.

At the very least, dinnertime was a solace - both from your thoughts and the smug bastard talking your ear off about how he could “make that spaghetti better than a thousand Italian grandmothers.”

Until the fourth - and final - night, that is. When the resort, deciding that your current torture wasn’t already enough, arranged a special candlelit dinner. A romantic one. By the beach. With Satoru of all people. 

Great. Wonderful. Perfect, in fact. Going out with a bang. Was this really part of the all-inclusive package? It was like the universe was playing some twisted joke on you - or some awful version of wingmanning. 

You grit your teeth silently as you’re ushered to the beachside table, thoughts barely audible over the waves crashing against the shore and the soft, romantic music drifting from the band nearby. 

The complete opposite of Satoru, who was already seated at the table and enjoying himself far too much for your liking. He lounged back in his chair, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he watched you sit opposite him uncomfortably.

You hated to admit it - but God was he dangerously beautiful in that crisp white button-up, one that you knew was from his overpriced collection for special occasions. You found yourself fighting to avoid the amber hues twinkling in his eyes as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting warm shadows that bring out his pretty features.

Pretty? So frighteningly pretty - until he speaks, that is.

“And here I thought our honeymoon couldn’t get any worse. You’re sweating bullets, sweetheart. This your first date with me or something?”

“We’re not on a honeymoon, Satoru. And no, it just brings back memories.” you scoff. Relishing in the way he inches his chair closer to listen, clearly not expecting this sudden sentimentality. “Memories of why I blocked you on every social media.”

All but slamming his head down on the table, Satoru whines out, “Ouch, straight for the jugular. That mouth is still as bitchy as ever, huh? Though I do prefer it choking on my-”

“I’m going to throw you into the ocean.”

“Ooo, kinky~” he hums, swirling his wine glass, “But you know what this reminds me of? That one time we had dinner under the stars.”

You froze, the memories suddenly flashing back to you despite your best efforts to suppress them. “Oh yeah,” you muse. A chuckle leaving your mouth despite yourself, “Wasn’t that where you spilled ketchup all over your shirt and then insisted it was a fashion statement?”

He leans in closer, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Hey! It worked, didn’t it? I got compliments from everyone including you.”

“I was just trying to stop you from bursting into tears.” you roll your eyes, shaking your head at the memory. 

“Exactly, sweetheart. Like moths to a flame.”

“More like to a bug-zapper.”

Satoru throws his head back and laughs, loud and unabashed. A sound that echoes across the beach and makes something warm and sticky strum at your heartstrings. And at that moment, that stupid, little part of you didn’t even mind that you were at a special candlelit dinner. A romantic one. By the beach. With Satoru of all people. 

And he didn’t even have to goad you into it with SZA this time.

As the orange glow of the setting sun melded into the cool blue of the night, it almost felt like slipping back into an old routine. The food had long since been finished. Jabs and shared memories flowing through the air like the gentle waves lapping at the shore.

The cool air was now thick with contentment and something so unknown yet so familiar that it made your heart race. 

 “I swear.” you groan over Satoru’s loud cackles, “He tried to charm his way out of the bill by flirting with the waitress. In front of me.”

Satoru doubles over, clutching his stomach as he laughs uproariously. “Classic move! If he’s going to be a cheapskate then he should’ve at least been successful with it.”

Damn, was he eternally grateful for these dim candles. Otherwise you’d surely have caught the rosy flushing tinting his cheeks. How dare you sit there so gorgeous and perfect in front of him. Perfect for him - you haven’t changed one bit.

“Right? She looked ready to fling us both out.” You chuckle, eyes catching on the little dimple just at the corner of his mouth as Satoru shoots you a sly grin. “Mhm, I know if it were me I would’ve charmed us out of the bill successfully.”

You raise a brow, retorting, “Oh please. I’ve had the pleasure of being on the receiving end of that ‘charm’. You’d probably end up charming us into washing dishes in the kitchen.” 

Ah, right now, he doesn’t think he wants to be anywhere but here - bickering with you. 

“Ouch, you wound me, woman!” Satoru feigns offense, placing a hand over his heart dramatically before leaning down to whisper, low and conspiratorial, “Besides, I doubt you even remember what pleasure feels like since being with me.”

A thrill goes down your spine as you realize the insinuation of his words, steady and searing - matching that of  Satoru’s fingers on yours - which had snuck their way across the table, lazily tracing patterns along your skin. 

When did they even get there? Sly bastard.

Your mouth drops into a soft oh! at the dangerous glint in his eyes. But you refuse to back down, “Don’t flatter yourself, Satoru. I’ve had other guys make me cum much harder than you have.”

Touch burning. Mapping every curve and dip he’d known so well, and this time - you graze them back. A challenge. God, you missed that warm little flutter in your chest. 

That seems to catch him by surprise, as those darkened blue eyes widen. But there’s a dangerous edge to his grin as he purrs, voice low. “Is that so?” 

And with that, Satoru’s chair is scraping softly against the sand as he stands up, “C’mon, you’re gonna regret that, sweetheart.”

Oh. 

Satoru knows that it’s been 5 months, 4 weeks, and 8 hours since you two lasted an entire dinner civilly - not that he was counting, duh.

So when he begged the resort staff into setting the two of you up on this special candlelit dinner, he was expecting you to drown him in the lobster tank halfway through or at least end the night with a slap. 

What he certainly did not expect was to end dinner with you shoved against the closed door of your suite, legs wrapped impossibly tight around his waist, and lips trailing hot, openmouthed kisses down your neck. He angles your neck, body pressing so impossibly close to yours.

Inwardly, you curse his button-up for being so goddamn thin that you could feel his abs rub against you with every little movement. Toned chest rumbling as he groans at your hands tugging at those soft locks - just a tiny revenge, for your body lotion. 

“S-Satoru,” you whisper, and he breathes it in with an almost-pained sigh - not wanting to part for even a second. Because fuck it took so long to get you back and he wasn’t going to waste a single moment. 

Pulling just a hair’s breadth away, “Tell me what you want. Always knew we’d end up-”

“Just shut up and kiss me, you smug bastard.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

And, well, who was he to deny you? So he does. 

His lips are searing on yours, hasty and greedy. With a tinge of something so painfully familiar. Your hands make their way onto his chest, feeling the thundering heartbeat against your fingertips - matching that of yours. 

Sweet. You tasted so sweet. Just like honey, and all the dreams where he didn’t leave you behind. Where he didn’t get on that damned plane but instead ran to you all the way from the airport like those sappy romcoms you love. 

He licks at the seam of your lips, drinking in your gasps as he intertwines his tongue with yours. Kissing you like he’ll never be able to again. Because, God, knowing his luck - he probably won’t. 

One hand cups your cheek so gently - a tenderness that doesn’t translate to his lips as he kisses you deeper. Meanwhile the other wanders the expanse of your body, leaving a burning trail of fire in their wake.

Satoru parts with a playful nip to your bottom lip - and before you realize what’s happening, the zipper hits the ground. He’s ripping your pretty dress off - mumbling something about “buying a new one” before large hands surge forward, groping and kneading your tits.

His mouth waters at the sight of your bra. Light blue - to match his eyes. “You evil, evil woman.” he mutters into the soft valley of your breasts as you giggle delightedly. Oh, how he couldn’t get enough of you.

And if there was ever a moment that Satoru thinks he could cream his pants right there, then this would be at the very top, followed very closely by the sight of that withering glare you shot after opening that suite door to him just a few days ago.

He unhooks your bra with one hand, throwing it blindly across the room as if it killed him to see you clothed. 

Immediately, Satoru drops to his knees with the desperation of a madman, coming face-to face with the heavenly sight of your clothed cunt, soaking through your thin panties. 

“Didn’t specify where I had to kiss, sweetheart.”

Your gaze pierces through him, as it always did. “What are you-” Your words get choked up in your throat as his tongue darts out. Licking a long, languid stripe over your clothed cunt. 

“Shit. So sweet f’me, jus’ like I remember. Just one taste and I feel like m’gonna cum in my pants.” Satoru groans, urgently sliding your wet panties down your quivering legs. 

“F-flattery won’t work.” you stammer out as his hot breath fans your quivering entrance as he waits just a second - one, two.

Drinking in the view of your pretty pussy with dazed, half-lidded eyes. Wet - so wet, he almost wants to tease you - just a bit, to see if you’ll get even wetter. Ah, he doesn’t have enough time to take in this view - probably never will. Would it ruin the mood if he took a picture?

“Oh, I’d say it worked pretty well.”

Cock twitching carnally, Satoru needed to taste you now. He immediately surges forward. Breathing you in so sinfully, pooling your juices on his tongue. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he tips his head back back back to let it slide down his throat. 

Shit, if you were the forbidden fruit then he would gladly be cast out of the garden of Eden. 

Half-delirious thoughts running through his mind, Satoru flattens his tongue across your swollen folds. Leisurely sliding between them, catching on your throbbing clit up and down up and down up and-

“Oh- hngh, Satoru faster-”

“So bossy.” he hums prettily around your swollen clit, the vibrations stimulating it just right. But of course, what his girl wants, she will get. 

Lewd squelches and your mewls of his name ring in the heady room as he speeds up his ministrations. Rolling his tongue harshly along your clit, sucking so sensually. Licking at your sweet cunt, dipping just into your sloppy hole. 

You almost miss the long fingers that deftly slide their way up your thigh, spreading your folds with his thumbs. A low groan sounds at the back of his throat as your walls flutter so sinfully around nothing - aching for more friction. 

Urgently, Satoru bullies his fingers past your folds, sinking deep into your plushy walls as his tongue continues its abuse. So warm and wet around him. Curling his fingers just right.

“Ah- fuck, Satoru- Feels s’good.” you gasp as he starts thrusting his fingers back and forth. A ruthless pace that has tears stinging your eyes, hitting that spot over and over and-

“Oh yeah? Thought you didn’t like my ‘big mouth’?” he purrs, muffled around your clit, “Look at you, sweetheart, now falling apart cos’ of it.”

You scoff, fingers tangling in his silky hair, pushing him deeper into your dripping pussy - mostly because you needed it, but somewhat because you really needed him to shut up. “Yeah, I like it better when you shut the fuck up.”

And with a dark chuckle, his mouth is back on your cunt. Your slick glossy and dripping down the corner of his mouth as he alternates between sucking unforgivingly on your ravaged clit and fucking into you at the same time as his fingers. 

And in the delicious stretch of your cunt, you barely register the metallic clinking of a belt before Satoru presses his clothed erection into you.

Shit. You clench so obscenely around his tongue at the feeling of his clothed, painfully hard and throbbing against your leg. Fuck - as big as you remember. You weren’t gonna be able to walk for a while.

“You like this, huh?” he murmurs, speeding up the rhythm of his fingers. Vibrations sending white-hot jolts of pleasure down your spine.

Cracking an eye open you risk a glance downward. Greedily eyeing the hand wrapped tightly around the base, moving up up up. Pumping in small, jerky movements at the same pace of his fingers fucking into you. “Like the way m’getting off to tonguefucking my girl?”

“Like thinking about how this is what I thought about all those lonely fucking night without you?” You arch into his touch, fingers searing on his scalp and angling Satoru just right to make your knees weak. 

He’s so close that you can feel the precum smearing onto your leg. Mouth fucking you in a way you knew he wanted to with his cock right now. Rough and unrelenting. 

“Like thinking about how you’re all I can fucking think about.”

“Hngh- Yes, Satoru! Yes-” 

You see stars as you cum - or maybe those were the tears in your eyes. Pulling Satoru impossibly closer to your quivering pussy so that you could ride out your high on his pretty face. And he readily accepts it - letting himself be handled roughly with the conviction of a man that wouldn’t mind dying if it was suffocating in-between your pretty thighs. 

Your vision is hazy, blood still roaring in your ears as Satoru stands up. Not even bothering to wipe away the wet trail of your slick prettily glossing his lips before capturing yours in a searing kiss. 

“Y’know, sweetheart,” he gasps in between heated kisses. “We got a king-sized bed so we better make use of it, hm?”

Your back hits the mattress before you can even react. Reeling from shock and the audacity as you bounce at the sheer force of his throw. 

“Next time you do that you’re-” 

Whatever insult at the tip of your tongue melts away immediately at the purely pornographic sight of Satoru stalking his way towards you from the foot of the bed. Eyes hooded, cock rock-hard, kiss-bitten lips parted slightly in a way that was so fucked-out.

Unhurriedly approaching you with such a predatory glint in his darkened eyes as he fucks his fist slowly - so agonizingly slowly. Eyes locked on you.

Despite cumming not even minutes before, your pussy jumps in anticipation. Immediately reaching over as soon as he’s close enough - as if in a trance - to replace his hand with yours. 

He was big - so mouthwateringly big. Flushed your favorite shade of pink at his leaking tip, pulsing veins glistening in the dim light - every part of Satoru was so unfairly pretty.

So hot and heavy in your hand as you pump him at a steady, methodical pace. Precum smearing on your palm, trailing down your wrist as you pump. Tighter on the base, thumbing teasingly under his slit the way you knew he used to like. 

“Oh fuck, sweetheart. Still remember, huh?” he hisses lowly. Ah, the way he still likes. 

“Mhm.” you hum absentmindedly, thighs clenching together at the way his hips grind in shallow, mindless little motions into your soft hand. Meeting your strokes as if trying to fuck something so delicious out of him.

And, well, you just couldn’t resist a taste. Bending down in one, fluid motion to delicately lick at his angry, hard head. Slightly salty taste on your tongue as you swipe at the droplets of precum pooling on his tip. Tracing lightly - ever-so-lightly - down his prominent veins. 

Satoru groans, low and hoarse with desire, “Shit, hah- you don’ ngh- have to-”

“Shut up, Satoru.” 

And with that, you’re shoving down as much as you can of his throbbing erection down your throat. Cunt clenching at the way he hardens impossibly as you choke and gag around him.

“Shit, oh- Oh fuck, m’girl. Yes yes yes-.” Satoru lets out a guttural moan. Fingers threading through your hair as he uses it as leverage to fuck himself slowly, deeper and deeper into your heavenly mouth. Hips stuttering and jerky with pleasure. Yeah, he definitely missed this. 

Half-delirious and cock-drunk, you take him all the way till your nose was buried in the tufts of white at his toned pelvis, already so wet with saliva and precum. 

Still got it, some smug, utterly debauched part of yourself titters. 

It was dizzying, the way he was pulsing in your throat, his heady scent filling your senses. Beginning to move up and down up and down in hasty, desperate bobs of your head. Pulling such lewd gasps and moans from his lips. 

You moan around Satoru’s thick cock, clawing at his toned hips for some semblance of stability. Some truly animalistic part of yourself relishing in the neat, red lines down his milky skin. The sight hazy through the tears that spring to your eyes at the way his fat tip hits your abused throat. A relentless, sinful tempo you were steadily losing your mind to.

Messy.  It was so fucking messy.

You just wondered if his orgasm would be the same…

But, alas, one can’t always get what they want. Because Satoru pulls you off of his achingly hard cock with a lewd pop! that rings in his ears and makes your cunt twitch. 

“Shit, sweetheart. Any longer and I’ll have to start thinking about ol’ Prof. Gakuganji to not cum.” he pants through ragged breaths, flashing you a deceptively innocent grin. “Now, lay back and spread ‘em f’me and let me see if your pretty pussy can still handle me.”

And that you don’t argue with. 

It’s almost embarrassing - the way you scramble desperately to sink back into the mattress. Letting Satoru manhandle your legs open so shamefully for him, throwing them over his muscled shoulders. But that’s a problem for the future, not lust-drunk you. 

Right now you couldn’t give less of a fuck as his hungry gaze locks on your glistening pussy. Pausing for just a split-second before spitting once. Twice. Thrice onto your waiting cunt. Making you feel more and more like an object as the warm saliva mixes obscenely with your slick, trickling down to form such a sinful pool on the sheets below. 

And you liked it.

Almost as much as you loved the way Satoru drags his tip along your swollen folds, catching so maddeningly on your clit. Teasingly pooling your slick on his leaking head. It was so sloppy. And too slow. 

“Satoru, I’ve waited five months too long for this. If you’re going to fuck me then fuck me like you mean it.” you grit out, frustration and pure need boiling over within you. 

“Oh? So it’s like that, huh?” 

And maybe you were a mastermind, maybe you were an idiot - probably both. Because Satoru immediately pushes in one, long thrust into your dripping cunt. Your words catch pathetically in your throat as he loses grip on whatever semblance of restraint he had - or his sanity - whichever one would break you first. 

Fuck, it feels so heavenly. Oh, how you missed him.

Bowing his body down down down till his damp forehead met yours. Folding you completely underneath him in the way you’ve found that only the smug bastard, Gojo Satoru can. 

You could almost sob at the stretch as he presses in - deliciously painful, borderline insane, and exactly what you’d been trying to deny that you’d been craving all these past five months. Being split apart on his throbbing cock, feeling like you were about to be absolutely devoured underneath him. 

It seems Satoru was just as needy for you, hot and throbbing agonizingly inside you, each little bump bump bump against your walls matching that of your heart thundering against your chest. 

Or was that Satoru’s? At this point you couldn’t even tell. 

“Oh, god yes-, jus’ like that ah shit shit shit-”

“This what you wanted, yeah?” A low growl leaves his throat at how sinfully your walls were milking him as he pulls back. All the way till his leaking tip was just innocently kissing your sloppy hole - only to ram his cock all the way back into your snug cunt. “To be split apart on my cock?” 

Shit, he could just about pass out right now with the way your cunt was sucking him in so greedily like she never wanted to part. 

Guess she missed him too, he thinks deliriously. Not even having to think about it as he starts fucking into you in shallow, mindless little thrusts. Pushing himself deeper and deeper into your plushy cunt. 

“Äh- fuck, yeah. S’all I’ve wanted.” you mewl, feeling so vulnerable and exposed under the hungry eyes boring into yours. A dark gleam in them as he grins, “Then take it back.”

Disoriented, you gasp out a strangled, “What?” before Satoru’s hips become rougher, chasing his high as much as yours. 

“What you said at dinner.” your lips fall into a soft oh! as you realize just what he’s talking about, “Admit that no man makes you cum as hard as I do.”

God, you don’t think you could answer even if you wanted to, choking on the harsh, purposeful movements of his hips just to fuck your soul out. 

Heavy balls stinging your skin, the lewd sounds of skin-on-skin fills the heady air. Driving you to insanity. An absolutely unforgiving cadence that has the bed creaking in protest. Ah, whatever, he could buy them a new one anyway if this one just so happens to break.

“Take it back yet?” He had to break you first though.

Slick gushes out of your heated cunt, dripping down his length and pooling at his heavy balls, stinging your ass at each merciless thrust. “No.” 

A large hand hastily makes its way down to draw rough, frenzied little circles on your throbbing clit. Voice strangled, sweat beading on his forehead, thrusts becoming increasingly sloppier. “How about now?”

“Ah- hngh- oh fuck. Satoru!” You could only moan softly in response, broken whimpers leaving you each time his tip kissed your cervix. Angling his hips just right to expertly brush against that one spot he knew so well would have you keening and bucking up into his cock. Your face almost burns at the sheer familiarity of it all. This bastard knew you too well. 

And something about that made such an uncomfortable, prickly feeling pool in your stomach. 

Something which you knew would only be sated if you looped your arms around his neck. Nails digging into his sculpted back as you pulled him impossibly closer.

Kissing his flushed cheeks as he murmurs, “Take it back, sweetheart.”

Despite the thick cock splitting you in half till you probably couldn’t walk tomorrow morning, you find it in yourself to huff out a soft laugh at the way Satoru’s tone teetered on just that endearing side of sulky. “Fine. You win, Toru.” you whisper into his lips,

And then you’re cumming. White-hot pleasure flashing behind your eyes and Satoru’s lips gently slotting against yours as he fucked you through your high. Acting as if the fucked-out whimper of his nickname is one he’ll never forget. 

As if he couldn’t cum simply from hearing it leave your pretty lips. And he does, shooting thick, hot ropes of cum painting your plushy walls white with a raw groan of your name. It oozes out of your cunt and onto the mess of sheets below as he fucks his seed into you as a lover would. As he would. 

It was intoxicating - everything from the way you milked his cock so sinfully, to the arms tight around his shoulders. Pulling him close, running soothingly along his skin as Satoru collapses onto you with a final, fucked-out thrust. 

And despite being a lightweight, Satoru’s never been so easily drunk off of something than he was off of you. God how he missed this - how he missed you. 

So much so that he can’t put it into words - and probably won’t ever be able to. But it’s alright, because your sticky body snug against his, and Satoru arms tenderly around your waist - but you didn’t mind. Both of you understood.

Satoru traces his fingers lazily along your side, neither of you bothering to tackle the mammoth task of cleaning up for now. Each movement slow and gentle, as if any sudden movement might shatter the delicate balance between you. 

All is quiet in your little haven, and you could almost fall asleep. The most contented one you’ve had in a while - 5 months, 3 weeks, and 7 hours ago to be exact.

But, of course, Satoru can’t keep his mouth shut for nothing. You jolt out of your reverie as he hastily tries to stifle the startled laugh that huffs out of him. Your dazed eyes meet his in the dim lighting, raising a brow in question.

“It’s just…” he starts, voice soft, “You still call me Toru. Feels like home.”

Ah.

You find yourself chuckling softly with him. Heat rushing to your cheeks, burying yourself deeper into his warm chest, to hide the embarrassingly flustered smile breaking out across your face if anything. 

Chuckling, Satoru shifts closer, touch now feather-light against your cheek, tracing the line of your jaw with his fingertips. Faltering ever-so-slightly as you mutter out, “Happy anniversary, by the way. I didn’t say it earlier because someone was being a public menace.”

“Hey! It’s not my fault that someone locked me out of my own honeymoon suite.” he laughs, drinking in your pretty lil’ smile. 

Ah, you were perfect. As you always were. Satoru can’t help but utter out a little, “Hey, if I tell you something absolutely stupid, would you promise not to make me fish food?”

“Absolutely not.”

He knew you’d say that. So he flashes you an easy grin, a hint of nervousness in it that he’s sure you see through - you always do. 

“So…” he begins, “First thing’s first, I’m thinking of expanding my father’s company further overseas and it might just so happen that I’m leading the branch development and get to pick where exactly.”

God, you made him feel like such a teenager. At your stunned silence, Satoru could barely raise his eyes to meet yours as he plows on, stumbling so uncharacteristically over his words, “You, I picked where you are.”

You’re breathless, words barely audible as his sinks in. “What? Toru that’s-”

“And don’t be mad but you kinda sorta didn’t-win-the-raffle-so-instead-I-planned-this-getaway-when-we-were-together.”

Any and every trace of breathless euphoria leaves your tone as you narrow your eyes at the very guilty Satoru beside you. Fidgeting under your intense scrutiny. Finally - after what seems like an eternity - you find your senses after his whiplash-inducing information dump. 

A hand immediately shoots out to squeeze his side, right where you knew he was dangerously ticklish.

“You sneaky little-” you scold over his laughed out yells of, “Mercy! No murder on our honeymoon!” squirming helplessly beneath you.

“I can’t believe you let me chug all that ice cream.”

“Exactly- hah- help! You w-would’ve been so sad that you ah- didn’t win.” he manages to choke out under your attack.

Finally relenting, only once you’re sure he’ll be feeling the burn of laughter until your flight tomorrow, you release him from your grasp. A satisfied smirk playing on your lips as you lean in close. “You’re lucky I still love you, you smug bastard” you deadpan.

“Aww, you beat me to it.” Satoru whines. Yet he reaches out to cup your cheek, “And I love you,” words hanging in the air like a promise. “With every fiber of my being.”

You let yourself be begrudgingly pulled into his embrace again, hands caressing along your skin like the highest form of worship. Satoru sighs out a contented, “Best honeymoon ever.” 

But of course, you couldn’t help but bully your idiotic boyfriend. “This is not a honeymoon, Toru.” you mutter into his heated skin.

He only presses you closer to him. Yeah maybe not, fingers deftly dancing along your left hand. But maybe next time. 

“Wanna watch the stars and tell me all about that branch development?”

“Of course, sweetheart, but first can you at least unblock me on Gmail now?”

“...”

You broke up with Gojo Satoru exactly 5 months, 3 weeks, and 12 hours ago. And as for how long it’s been since he won you back - well, you think it might just be one of the few things you didn’t keep count of.

A/N. Based on my vacay at Lily Beach except I didn’t meet my future husband there :0

Plagiarism not authorized.

Mental Health Collab 

A/N: Nekoma College Au, everything is the same but they’re a university team in the American Midwest, Severe Social Anxiety/Panic Attack!Reader, Kenma is a sweet babie in this. 

TW: Large Groups, Panic Attack, Loud Sounds, Tornado Siren

Kenma barely remembers to lift his head when Coach Nekomata leads another unfamiliar student into the gym at the end of practice. There’s something familiar to him about your stance, your body language, the way you orient yourself just slightly less than perpendicular to the group, so that you can avoid any direct gaze. 

“This is y/n.” He says, eyes sweeping across the boys, a warning. 

“Are we finally getting a girl manager!” Lev blurts out, “Because it’s about time!” There’s a smattering of chuckles and Yaku kicks the giant boy in the ankles, hard. 

“No.” Nekomata clarifies. “She’s at the head of the pre-med program and she’s going to be our on-call sports medic for the rest of the season. Do not,” He eyes Lev and then Yamamoto, “Overwhelm her. She’s a professional, here to do a job, a job we’re paying her for.” He nods at you to introduce yourself. You shove your shaking hands in your pockets, you need this money, you need this money, for textbooks. 

“H-hi.” You choke out, giving them a quick nod. Kenma is staring at you, while everyone goes around and says their name, there’s something about the shape of your profile, the air in your voice sounds like a gentle breeze, maybe it’s your eyes, wide and nervous, but he wants to reach out touch you, to see if you’re as soft as you look, as you sound. He rarely feels the desire to enter another person’s space, it’s strange.  But it’s like, he can see where your soul concaves. He can feel your hands shaking in their pockets, can estimate the angle of your slumped shoulders, he can see how perfectly you’d fit nestled against his chest. He must be visibly zoned out because Kuroo reaches over and touches his shoulder. 

“You’re staring, Kenma.” Kuroo says, in an uncharacteristically low voice, reserved for sincerity. “She hasn’t noticed yet, look away.” 

Keep reading

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TANGLED IN YOUR TRANCE • part one

𖤐 MASTERLIST 𖤐

Warnings: mentions of divorce, reader’s clothing described, use of “big brother” and “little sister”, little to no suggestion because we are not there yet

Word Count: 1.5k

Note: pink dividers by @/adornedwithlight! chapters will be longer after this one. Consider this a little introduction. Also, I’ve been asked to start a taglist, so let me know if you want in on that <3

You’re seventeen when your parents get divorced and eighteen when they remarry within two months of each other. Your dad bags a lady who’s closer to your age than his, and your mother finds herself a man who loves living in luxury as well as in debt from his uncontrollable gambling addiction.

It causes your relationships with your parents—all four of them now—to grow tense, causes you to slam doors and spit curses and cover your ears with expensive headphones (courtesy of the stepfather trying to win your affections).

The only, only good thing about your dysfunctional family dynamic is your new step brother, Toma, who you don’t actually see very much, but whatever. You’d been an only child your entire life, lived with a very specific type of loneliness that is impossible to describe, and now suddenly you have an older brother. It’s weird, but there’s an unspoken solidarity between the two of you right off the bat. The marriage between your mom and his dad is absolutely fucked from the start; you know it, and Toma knows it. Just like you both know you’ll be the ones that’ll have to deal with the inevitable fallout.

Every week you pick who you want to stay with, the lesser of 2 evils entirely based on your mood. Do you stay with your father and his irritating wife who only knows how to bond through mani-pedis? Or do you brave the big house full of fake smiles, embellished anecdotes, and late night arguments that echo through the halls?

Usually, it’s the latter that wins out. At least you can seclude yourself in your room there and no one will pester you to go shopping or get your hair done. (The new wife means well, you know deep down. She’s just so fucking annoying.)

Staying with your mom and stepdad also gives you the chance to maybe see Toma if he’s not on tour, at practice, or giving guitar lessons at the nearby music store.

He’s kind of intense, deep frown permanently etched onto his face, popping pills like candy. Usually dressed in perfectly tattered T-shirts and leather pants, his hair is bleached and spiked, one of his eyebrows is pierced—looks like he plays guitar in a metal band.

Which he does.

He isn’t your best friend. You’d barely call him an acquaintance. But every once in a while, you find yourself alone with him in the kitchen or the den. He asks simple questions to make shitty small talk, but it eventually leads you to ask about his band, which always ends in the two of you sharing opinions on music, newly dropped albums, etc.

It’s about the closest you ever get to bonding those first couple years, but it’s good enough for you, makes you feel like you’re not totally alone in the household.

The first time you find a burnt CD on your nightstand happens the same night that Toma sticks up for you at the dinner table. He’s been off tour for a couple weeks, and despite still not knowing him super well, you can tell that the stagnancy is making him cagey.

So, when your stepdad makes an offhand comment about your aesthetic—the skirts and fishnets and combat boots, it doesn’t go over well.

“All that black isn’t exactly inviting, sweetheart. You won’t find a man leaving the house looking like you’re ready to beat someone up.”

You’re used to it by now, spent most of your adolescence listening to your mom and dad bitching about the hair you let cover your face and the gory graphics on your T-shirts. This isn’t anything new to you.

However…

“Why the hell would you even say something like that?” Toma gruffs, fork gripped just a little too tightly in his hand. “The way she dresses ain’t got nothin’ to do with you, so shut your trap about it.”

“Toma—” your stepdad tries to defend.

“No. And why are you so concerned about her looking inviting? What the fuck does that even mean? You tryin’ to marry her off or somethin’?”

All your stepdad can do is get red in the face and grumble an apology, obviously out of his depth.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Keep your shit opinions to yourself, old man.”

You flash Toma a weak but grateful smile, nods in return, and that’s that.

It’s only when you’re winding down for the night that you spot it, the clear case and the bright blue disc within. His handwriting is surprisingly legible, all caps spelling out PLAYLIST #1 followed by each track in smaller print.

You’re only a little nervous when you knock on Toma’s bedroom door. You’ve never been inside before, all the way at the end of the hallway with the door perpetually shut. Your step brother doesn’t intimidate you, exactly, you just don’t have the best read on him yet.

When Toma opens the door, he’s the most dressed down you’ve ever seen him, wearing a t-shirt full of holes and a pair of black sweatpants. His hair is down and damp, barefoot as he steps to the side, and the chain he never seems to take off is missing from around his neck.

It’s strange seeing him like this: no tough guy exterior, just a dude in his early twenties living with his parents.

That’s not to say you look like you’re ready to hit the town. Sporting an oversized Hello Kitty shirt and little pajama shorts, you were ready to crawl into bed before you found the CD. The difference here is that while you’re taken off guard by Toma’s relaxed appearance, he doesn’t even seem to notice yours. And why would he?

You hold up the disc with a raised eyebrow, “a gift?”

Toma shrugs, lifting his arm high enough to let you walk under it and into his room, shutting the door behind you. Around any other guy, an action like that would have made your stomach flip in anticipation, but not this time. Definitely not this time.

“A few of ‘em are from bands we’ve toured with, but most of it is just shit I’m into that I think you might like.”

All you can reply with is a lame, “cool, cool,” too distracted with glancing around his room.

“I’m guessin’ you haven’t listened to it yet?”

You shake your head, eyes landing back on him as he sits at an old desk, a guitar laid out in front of him. From the looks of it, he’s restringing it.

“Not yet. Saw it and just… came to say thanks, I guess.”

He nods toward the stereo system up against one of the walls and tells you, “pop it in, then. I can give you my, uh, expert commentary.”

“Wow, lucky me,” you joke, ejecting the disc that’s already in the player to replace it with yours. You hope your dry tone is enough to cover up the buzz of excitement you feel at the prospect of getting to know him a little better.

For the next hour, you halfway listen to the tracks, more interested in what Toma has to say about each of them. Some of his ‘commentary’ is about the musicality of each song, but he also tells you about how he stumbled upon the the more underground bands and what it was like to play with the ones he toured with.

You use this as an opportunity to explore his space, or the space he allows you to see. You’re not snooping in his closet or anything, but you aren’t subtle as you look over the bulletin board full of tickets and peruse his little bookshelf–music theory, some biographies, a couple of psychology books (one about gambling).

When you pick up a model motorcycle from a shelf, Toma snorts, mutters, “you really are a little sister, aren’t ya’?”

“Huh?” you put the little bike down and turn to him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean rifling through my shit is a little sister thing to do.”

“I’m not rifling through anything,” you tell him, sucking your teeth, “–rifling would be if I was, like, going through drawers or something. I am simply… cataloging.”

He snickers, shrugging broad shoulders, and for some reason you feel the need to add, “I’m not actually that much younger, ya’ know.”

“Three years.”

“Two and a half,” you immediately correct, which, granted, is a little childish, but you can’t help yourself. The last thing you want is for Toma to see you as a baby as someone he has nothing in common with, someone he’d be embarrassed to introduce his friends to.

“Fine,” he concedes, a little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “two and a half.”

You shouldn’t care what he thinks or how he perceives you. It doesn’t matter. He only just recently entered your life—a new, hastily written chapter in an eighteen-year-long story.

There’s a part of you, though, bigger than you’d like to admit, that desperately wants him to like you, to approve of you–just a little sister’s desire to be loved by her big brother.

𖤐 NEXT 𖤐

rugby player bakugou

- random thought or headcanons? idk idc -

TALL A LITERAL GIANT WITH MUSCLES HE WORKED ON FOR YEARS

rugby player bakugou is one of the teams best player and the most aggressive strong players they have on the team

yea he comes to you with a busted lip, almost got a concussion, bloody forehead or a black eye from time to time but at least his team won!

sweats a lot ew

seeing him running for the ball, with the ball or tackling someone to the ground makes him look so fucking badass and he knows it especially because your watching him rn

never lets anyone tackle him for too long, with his strength he immediately gets back up, that fucking score is his!

or he never gets tackled at all sometimes, hes smart and knows where and how to out run bitches

rugby player bakugou always gets into a fight with someone, almost physically if it werent for kirishimas strong ass dragging him away from the soon to be under 6 feet in the ground guy

when he steps into the field he always makes sure to check where you are. he always hope your watching his game, he feels a sense of hope of winning even more because of you

dont tease him too much because if you try to run away… youll never make it💀

a lot of people want his attention, doing and wearing whatever to get him to just look at them but it never works. all he sees is you wearing one of his spare team unifroms

what the fuckkkkkkkk

┌─ “ ! „ SHE’S ‘TAKEN’

tw. a/b/o, forced cheating, alpha!umemiya is sort of sleazy, noncon/dubcon, a lot of alpha/omega, spit, breeding, knotting, size kink, reader called short/tiny/little, squirting, snowballing, calling ume daddy, pseudo-cesty, niichan, unrelated vomit mention, possessiveness, praise, degradation, a lot of orgasms, (belly bulge), fighting

wordcount. 9.1k

a/n. alternate title: oh is she?,, a million thank yous to mel @gimme-hiragi for helping me with my wb questions and rhi @seijorhi loml you’re the best for always reading my writing through for me ur the backbone of my life couldn’t do nothing without you ♡ and thank you aki for letting me joIN yOUR LOVELY EVENt it is adorable i had such a good time writing!!!

for @xrux’s into the omegaverse collab

umemiya hajime x fem!reader x kaji ren

“Let go, I’m over it!” Everyone’s looking at the way you yank up the edge of your top to make sure you’re covered, yank the edge of your ripped jeans skirt a bit lower. You’re wobbling side to side on your heels as you bend to take one off, almost falling in the process only to lean your head against Kaji’s lower stomach, whimpering all the while. You hick, and pout— ungraceful in a way only drunk people can be.

The icy blond by your side still has his sweater held out to you, as he pants, fists balled to his side with gritted teeth. “Don’t made a scene. Put it on.”

They’d been out on their own, ‘til Kaji suddenly slammed his phone down on the table and left behind their orders of yakiniku. To drag his very sloppy girlfriend, you, out of some sleazy bar lined with jerks smoking enough to make the entire alley cloudy. Now he has a forming black eye to match his bad attitude, but the other guy was worse off. The -not getting up, nose crooked and bloody- kind of worse.

You’re not Hajime’s girlfriend, so he’s in no position to judge, but at the very least he’d also feel sort of uncomfortable leaving any girl in a place like this. Former gang territory. Whole lot of grimy types, the kind they protect people from. If you’re dating Kaji, he’s sure you know that.

You bend over your knees to gag up nothing, pushing away Kaji’s hand when he reaches to hold your hair back.

You’re a mess, from what he can tell perched against the wall along with Sakura, Nirei and Hiragi. The former two who look mildly uncomfortable, the latter who’s own distracted hands search his jacket for his phone. “What do you wanna do? Call it a night?”

Umemiya’s honestly off as bad as you are, curtesy of the badly mixed drinks he’d been throwing back, and he guesses none of the guys are any better off. Sakura can’t hold his drinks at the best of times, and it’s been a long night of celebrations. 5:08, the display of Hiragi’s phone shows.

His mind ticks a bit slower than he’d like.

A moment where he debates getting involved, but then sighs. “I’d like to let them fix it on their own, though~”

You’re still leaning against your boyfriend’s hip as you try again to work something out with your shoe, hair flopped forward all over your face. Round and soft and totally out of place in a spot like this, though the way you’re dressed you definitely could have him fooled if you tried. It’s in the way your eyes flick up all big and innocent-like at your boyfriend’s call, that he can tell.

Kaji’s already draped the sweater over your shoulders, something you don’t seem to realize— because when he tries to help you up you only snap more. “Stop touching me, I’m gonna go home!”

“Go home faster then.” Kaji fumes, though one hand remains around your waist until you’re done with whatever needed adjusting on your terribly flimsy looking heels. “Can’t you just once do what I ask of you? You make me crazy,” he breathes back, and you get- what he supposes should be nose to nose. You’re a couple inches too short to square up to anyone.

“You know what, Ren.” Your pretty lips sound out the words slowly. “Fuck you.”

At that, one of the onlookers hoots enthusiastically, and Kaji’s brows get even more furrowed— but he only stares you down. With neither side backing down, he eventually plops one of his signature suckers in his mouth to cut the conversation short.

You turn and start wobbling down the stairs of the club, not even sparing them a glance.

Your big eyes are dark and blown and you’ve got a nose that’s bitten by the cold with tears, or snot, dripping— he’s not sure when you started crying, but you definitely are now. “‘M so sick of your goddamn attitude.” You breathe. Kaji’s close behind to pull you back by your wrist, but this time you let out a whimper. You yank your arm out of his grip as you plant both feet against the way he tries not so graciously to drag you, and the sandy blond has a vein that thumps in his temple.

“Don’t touch me! Leave me alone. Go be a possessive prick to someone else.” You take the sweater from around your shoulders and shove it back into his chest hard enough to make him step back. Then you finally start walking off down the wet, littered street under the encouraging whistling of the drunkards lined up against the other wall.

When Kaji no longer makes an attempt to stop you, the few of them slowly make their way over to the young man— and Umemiya places an empathetic hand on the other’s shoulder. Kaji’s steely blue eyes trace you even as you swing your hips, eye twitching. “Stubborn fucking-,” he pants, “Omega brat- can’t hold a drop of her liquor.” Ah. Kaji runs a frustrated hand through his hair, making it stand up every which way, before he finally grits his teeth.

“Someone please fucking go after her. She’s days out from heat and restless to shit, she’ll get herself hurt.” Yeah, that’ll do it. That explains the big blinkers and the sweetness. Hiragi’s quick to start looking for his motorcycle keys, but the oldest waves his hand at that.

“You can’t drive in this state, Hiragi. You’ll hit someone. We still have to pay and our food is waiting for us, too.” Sakura and Nirei wouldn’t speak up about it, but leaving the food behind must’ve stung. He hands his card to Kaji with a smile. “I got ‘er. You guys are staying at my place anyway, right? Take a few hours to round off a good night.” He winks. “Leave it up to your niichan!”

He only has to follow you about two blocks before you crouch down and start sniffling, and he stops a few feet short of you as not to scare you. Even without Kaji’s explanation, he’d be able to tell that the honeyed, enticing scent emanating from you is too sugary to be anything other. With how close he comes to a halt by your side it’s almost choking on his lungs. Umemiya clears his throat. “Hey, you remember me?”

You’re crying into your palms, skirt halfway up your ass and exposing your panties— he’s just glad it’s just you two here. “I- hck- didn’t mean it. ‘M sorry, Ren kun. Jus’ wanna- I’m all over the place. Just- feel weird right now. I’m sorry, I really am.” Pre-heat mood swings. You’re cute, even cuter when you suck your bottom lip in between your teeth and wipe the tears to look up at him. When you notice he’s not in fact ‘Ren-kun’, you get a bit embarrassed.

Even though he doesn’t know you too well, he does notice you’re definitely pretty. Hot, even. Despite the mascara and eyeliner smudged onto your lower eyelids, your lips look soft as they open to say -nothing-, and you breathe in and out.

He can’t help but let eyes flick down to your ass resting on your ankles, how your plush thighs stick out from under the tightened skirt and you’re not even thinking of covering up. It’s not your fault. He’s trying not to get too much of your scent down deep into his lungs, but way he’s guessing, you’ve probably got a day before your body will start heating from the inside out- leave your pussy a wet, wanton clenching mess to get bred full-

He needs something else to think about. Something other than those sheer lace panties that show all of your pussy if he really tries to look.

“You’re… Kaji’s friend. Bofurin, right? We’ve seen each other before, though it’s the first time we’ve really talked.” You’re calmed down enough to get flustered when he too comes to sit on his heels, nice leather jacket brushing the floor. Good to know that the presence of an Alpha doesn’t scare you off. If anything, you’re calm enough to get affected by him, and it makes pride bloom inside his chest. “It’s Ume…”

“Umemiya Hajime.”

Since you’ll be staying at his place with your boyfriend for a good two weeks anyway, you might as well stay a little sooner. He’s pretty sure that’d be fine, but he’ll have to text to check. “Kaji asked me to take you home since he can’t. When you’re ready.”

You start gathering your hair into a pony as you nod. “Sorry about earlier, Umemiya-san. Don’t know what came over me. I think I’m just a little -overly emotional right now. I- might’ve drank too much too.” Probably Kaji’s frustration about the situation that set you off in the first place. You stare at a dent in the road with a lidded look as you talk- then clear your voice. “Mh.”

He smiles, before reaching out to pet your head. Being this close to an Omega getting into heat just feels electric, he can’t help it. He wants to pick you up and lick your tears from your face. Not that he will. You’re a precious kouhai’s, and that’s stronger than anything his animalistic nature demands he do. You’re quiet until he pulls his hand back, holds the urge to wind it down to your little neck and bite down on soft skin. You’re just so affected right now.

He’s sort of surprised Kaji didn’t start an all out brawl with whoever was no doubt drooling all over you in that club. He’s about halfway there himself, and he’s only got honourable intentions.

If you’re bothered by his silence, you don’t say anything. So he nods.

“Kaji said something about holding your liquor, yeah- but I-” A guttural groan rings between you two. When he looks back at you, you’re bending over your own knees to gag, placing both hands on the dirty street to hold yourself. “Oh- whoops,” he chuckles, and reaches out to hold your hair back, as you throw up away from your nice shoes as best you can. “You got it, sweetheart. I’ve got water in my car.”

+

He’s halfway through a cup of coffee when he hears you rummaging in the other room. A bit of shuffling, before you put your clothes from last night back on, probably. He only got you halfway through the door before you started stripping against the warmth. “Ren? Huh- babe?” You ask into the hall, and your cute, little voice rings out. You’re scenting up his whole apartment, have been since he woke up first thing at daybreak. It’s definitely stronger than it was even last night when he dropped you into his bed with the explicit intention of washing the sheets as soon as you woke up.

He clears his voice. “Ren said he’d be over in the afternoon. Apparently Sakura puked all over his car…”

”Oh.”

It doesn’t take too long for you to come out of his room wrapped in a blanket over the terribly short mini skirt, and the definite glow of a sheen of sweat on your cheeks as you process. 

In the morning light it’s even easier to see that you’re an Omega through and through. Every part of you is soft and rounded and supple for grabbing, flushed face blinking away sleep. Truth is, he really doesn’t know you all that well. He knows you met Kaji through Enomoto in high school. Knows you started dating somewhere around university— and that some of the Furin guys got into a bit of a scuffle over it. Didn’t think you should be dating Kaji, or Kaji you- he can’t remember.

Seeing how you pop your hip out to watch him, blink those big doe eyes up at him— he think he sort of understands. After a few seconds too long where you start to giggle at the silence, he stops studying you to grin. “Coffee? A cold water?”

“I appreciate that you’re so willing to brush my behavior from yesterday aside, but I’m still sorry. That you Bofurin lot always have to step up. And that I ended up causing trouble for Ren again...” It might be the heat in the room, but his collar feels a bit too tight when you rest your ass against the cupboards with a little smile. Your heat is not just close, it’s full-on started. His chest feels heavier, and skin a bit tight.

You hum. “…Something cold would be great, thank you. I’m feeling a little hot.”

The way you look up at him from under your lashes tells him you aren’t entirely unaware of it, either. He can’t decide if you’re coy, or just trusting. He pulls his sweater over his head and tosses it onto the table, smoothing his shirt out in agreement. “Might be hot in here, yeah.”

It’s so quick he almost misses it. But you eyes definitely slip to the sliver of skin that shows when the fabric rides up. It makes his groin stir in his shorts to watch how you catch yourself, and heat makes its way up to the tips of your ears and nose.

He hums as he bends for the fridge, not bothering to watch you as he talks. Your scent is so strong you could hide across the street and he’d be able to sniff you out. A thought that, however guilty he feels about it, sounds really fucking good right about now. Chasing you down to sink his hot cock into that needy, fertile Omega cunt. His heart’s pounding like you’ll run any second, and he’s no longer as sure as he was last night that he could stop himself from chasing. Was it like this when his ex was going into heat too?

The cold water drips condensation down his arm when he hands it over to you. “You mean you cause trouble for Kaji often?”

You bite your lip. “We just have …discussions like that a lot, even though I love him very much. I guess we just still aren’t entirely used to each other.” When he lifts his eyebrow in question, you rub your both palms over your cheeks to get rid of the heat, dragging them through your hair. “You might’ve noticed that I’m an Omega.” Baby, ‘might’ve’ isn’t the word he’d use. It’s all he’s been able to think about since you stepped foot into his apartment yesterday.

His mind flashes to his precious kouhai for a moment, but the way your throat hitches snaps it out of him instantly.

You seem to get even hotter as you talk, and your voice pitches up into a softer sort of noise that makes the hairs on his neck stand upright. “It’s not like we’re a dying breed or anything… But ratio wise, people are used to Beta’s. Ren- would know how to handle a Beta. Most heat blockers don’t work too well on me,” you confess, “and Ren can’t just sit pretty for a week every other month to… s-service- me-”

You’re struggling on the words, like even mentioning the possible sex you’ll have pains you.

It’s so fucking cute. Poor little Omega doesn’t know what to do with herself. You’re not wrong though. He doesn’t know what it’s like for you, but without effective blockers, it’s not hard to imagine it really is all consuming.

“We’re still- trying to find our rhythm, and last time we couldn’t, a whole bunch of Furin got dragged into it because I couldn’t contain myself. It’s just embarrassing.” His breathing gets laboured just seeing you shift uncomfortably. Watches how your eyes dialate as your lashes flutter desperately up and down. You’re a fruit ripe for picking, baby. He tastes sugar in the air when he smiles, and your gaze finds his.

A stray sane thought reminds him he should back up. Open a window or something.

The Alpha in him is pounding on his brain though, making everything hard to stomach. He licks his bottom lip. “I don’t know, maybe he should consider it.”

“Wh- taking time off for me every heat?” You ask back, as your brows furrow. As you back up against the cupboards and squeak in surprise when you knock your heels against them.

Fuck, he’s getting so hard. If only he could lean you back a little further. He reaches out to take your face between his fingers and watch how your lips drop open. “Are you saying Kaji doesn’t want to?” Pretty, pink little tongue darting out to wet them. It’s only when you stop talking wide-eyd, that he notices he closed the distance at some point and is now basically towering over you, feet to feet with your face at his chest. 

”I-I’m saying I don’t want him to- pu- put his life on hold… and- Umemiya-san.” Fuck. He can hear the way your heart beats like a hummingbird in your chest. “You’re too close,” you’re starting to get that signature scared bunny look. Your eyes go anywhere but up at him where he wants you, as you swallow and ignore the cold shiver going through your body. The blanket’s pooled at your feet. “Where’s my phone, Ren should come now.”

“Hm, I put it somewhere…” He does try to think. It’s just that you’re looking so woefully vulnerable and flushed and desperate to get rid of that itch that’s starting to build in your belly. He leans in, you push against his chest. It honestly only turns him on more. He shouldn’t be this eager to take a bite of you right from under Ren’s nose, right? His hands wind down your waist and you honest-to-God mewl like a fucking kit- whining when he leans in.

Just a few little kisses won’t kill either of you. His shorts feel way too tight, and a nagging little voice in the back of his head asks him to just fill you up, knot inside you. Bite an ugly mark right over the faded one Kaji gave you. “Umemiya-san.” He’s big enough that he could take your boyfriend on if he had to. He pushes in and grabs the back of your neck. “Umemiya!” You force out, before his mouth finds yours and he hikes you up against the kitchen cupboards for better access.

Your head falls back instinctively, letting his lips push against you, tongue pushing against yours as he steps up to your body. Large hands that glide up under your top and brush the sensitive skin under your tits- until you moan softly into his mouth, arching your back. He can’t help but chuckle. It’s not exactly proper to use a girl’s heat against her, feeling you spread your legs wider to make room. He kisses deeper, licks against your gums to make you taste of him, before whispering. “So vocal. What would Kaji say?”

It only takes a second of instinct, thump ringing out.

You punch him in the cheek. More surprised than anything, he grunts low and drawn out as he grabs his jaw, and watches how you scramble back to the floor and far away from him. The punch didn’t actually hurt much, you didn’t put any weight into it. Your anxious energy is what really does it, searching for his eyes with tears in your own. “My phone,” you beg more than say, hands now protectively around yourself.

He blinks a few times, until he can store away that predatory scow for long enough to speak. “Sorry. I got carried away.” Your face gets hot again, shoulders dropping. “You’re okay, I promise. The strength of it just took me aback, ‘is all. You did good socking me out of it.” The silver blond puts on a smile.

Besides that, he just wanted it more than he wanted to stop it.

He can’t exactly say that though, instead perching himself back against the cupboards. A safe distance away from where you’re rubbing the backs of your hands over your cheeks full of embarrassment, trying not to push your thighs together. It only makes him want to pin you down even more. His eyes glide down your body again. “We were switching apartments, right? You should probably head over there now. Tell Ren to head over quicker, that my heat came early.” You swallow heavily.

He definitely can’t tell you that right now, he’d rather do anything else. That would make him a bad guy. Someone Kaji shouldn’t have trusted with you. He’s got better things to do than obsess over some animalistic breeding instinct, doesn’t he? He should be worrying about making sure his little brothers are alright, that Sakura isn’t dying.

He nods as he stands to make his way past you. The scent is so heavy now that it’s taking everything in his power not to drool, and his chubbed up cock twitches to life in his boxers at the way you stare him down.

+

“Umemiya.” The dinner place is too loud, or the call too quiet for him to pay attention the first time. “Umemiya.” Hiragi repeats louder, and when that still doesn’t get results, he punches his arm softly. A bit harder than he could, for good measure. “Umemiya, what’s up with you? You keep spacing out on me midway conversation.”

Hiragi pops the cigarette back between his lips, watching him through his eyelashes as he sparks the lighter with one hand. In response, the blond wafts away some of the smoke, then hums. “My bad. You know the girl from the bar this morning, right- the cute, little thing… big eyes, short skirt, uhm- y’know the Omega,” he distractedly picks up his beer to tilt it edge to edge as Hiragi lifts a brow.

“Are you talking about Kaji’s girlfriend?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, that’s the one.” He makes a bit of a show of tapping his fingers on his bottom lip, before resting his head in his palm. “I’m just trying to figure out where I’ve seen her before.”

“Uhuh.”

If his long lasting friend thinks anything about his sudden curiosity, he has enough sense not to say it. Hiragi’s a good guy. Probably good enough to put a stop to Umemiya himself if he acted out too much. When the silvery blond doesn’t elaborate, Hiragi just clears his voice, tapping ash into the tray. “Not sure. I know she didn’t go to Furin or San Middle though.” He furrows his brows when Umemiya only drinks. “Didn’t you run into her with Kaji before? They’ve been dating for a good while now.”

“No, no, I would’ve remembered that. It was before Kaji. I could’ve sworn…” He swings his arms next to his chair, before tapping his hand on the table when he ‘remembers’. “Oh, wasn’t she- one of the Shishitoren girls back when.” A genial smile tugs at his lips before taking another sip. “Before, when they were still using girls like expensive cars and Togame would drag them around town to patrol our borders. Would drive all the Beta’s up the walls. I think I even remember Kaji getting-”

“-Into a fight over it with some of our guys, yeah.” Hiragi suddenly clicks his fingers, “that might’ve been her, after all.” He takes a drink of his own glass, humming along the rim. “I scolded him for it back then, but looking back, he was probably just protecting the person he loved. In his way.”

Sure… Umemiya stares off into the rest of the bar instead of replying. Always so genuine, Tamon’s team captain. Can’t fault the guy. But his honesty really does get in the way. Across from him, Hiragi lifts his own bottle. “So?”

He knows his eyes are too sharp in the low light. Umemiya puts on his best smile. “No, nothing. I’m just glad Togame turned a new leaf since then.” He finally allows himself to grab one of the delicious looking skewers, humming around the mouth full. “I mean, it would be some real shit for Kaji if Shishitoren suddenly wanted their Omega pet back.”

+

He crashes his mouth to yours, hands either side of you ass to lift you off the floor and drop you ask into bed, grunting. “Mh-hgh, came as,” he growls against your mouth, tongue tasting so much like strawberry lollipop, “soon as I fucking could. Stupid extra patrols gettin’ in my way.” His hands grab anywhere he can reach, digging in deep.

He’s short of breath, and you know it’s your scent that’s got him all rattled. Sinking his cock into you is one of the few moments he allows himself to let loose- you can tell by the way he’s chubbed up in his pants he’s been thinking about you for a while. He grunts into your mouth, tongue tasting yours. “Knew- you were- mhm-gonna get there. Been twitchy all day.”

“Uhuh, missed you. Missed you so much, all day- wan’it.” Your nails rake along his back to pull him closer, all his weight on top of you, and obnoxious kissing noises fill the room. You can’t help yourself, the heat travels down every vein, settles in your toes, your hands, in your tongue. The tongue currently being sucked into your boyfriend’s mouth as he grunts your name and makes you rock your center against the seam of his jeans until he pulls back. “Ren, Ren, Ren~”

Umemiya’s bed squeaks under the weight as he gets on top of you halfway, one thigh straddling you against the mattress.

More. You want more. Your heart is banging like a battering ram against your ribs as you slide your hands under his sweatshirt, and drag your fingers up the ridges and dents of his muscles, the thin scars. All while whimpering like an animal, something you might not be aware of, but is driving your Alpha absolutely insane.

A low rumble falls from his chest as he grips your face harshly, and steely blues flick over your expression. He black eye has started turning pretty purple under his skin, cut still on his brow. “Still a brat? Gonna fight me again for taking care of ya?”

“Nuh uh,” you quickly say back, and press sweet, messy kisses on his pink lips. They’ve gone all puffy, and it’s making it hard to think straight.

“Wanna take some medicine? Just in case,” Kaji pants after a few seconds in concern, hand worming its way between your bodies for his fingers to swipe over the absolute mess you’ve made out of your panties. They’re soaked straight through— something that once he notices, he takes a laboured breath so slow it makes him flush all the way up his chest. “Fu—ck, pretty girl. You’ve been wet and empty all day like this?”

”Mhm.” You nod again. Don’t have even a single thought to tell him that you sat with the terrible ache ever since another blond fought his way out of the door, because that was a stupid accident. Stupid. Single. Accident. “Ren, Ren- please. Mh-ghuh,” you moan, and your body curls to rub against his crotch despite yourself, “can’t take any more. Please~ please, please, please. Want- my Alpha.” Sticky, translucent slick is all over your pussy, ran down your thighs and ass and you’re now getting it all over his pants.

Your boyfriend looks so wild and unfocused it could honestly be kind of scary- if you weren’t already scenting up the whole house and terribly shaky yourself. Your legs wrap around his glutes to pull him closer, as the icy blond tries to stutter out a groan. “Your pills…”

“Don’t want ‘m if you’re here. Ren, I want your cock already~”

The tiniest twitch to his lips proves he’s smiling into another messy kiss he lays on you, before starting to drag his teeth along your neck. “So fucking whiny. ‘S cute. Yeah, you wanna have me fucking you full for days? Get stuffed full of cock ‘til you can’t stand?” Yes. Yes yes yesyesyes. You’re not sure if you’re nodding, because all you can feel is his fingers pressing into your thighs, grabbing your ass and forcing you right up against the seam of his pants.

When he reaches the spot you’re the most sensitive with his mouth, your body stills in anticipation, and almost explodes when instead of bitin down, Ren’s hot tongue makes circles over the tiniest scar he left last time. “My little Omega bitch, mine, mine.”

His eyes have gone all blown out. Your own face is burning hot, and so is everything else as you let him mark up your neck, sniffing around the area without any other thought. You want his bite, you want his cock and his knot in you, filling you up to the brim ‘til you’re nice and full and round and you’re good to nest up— you want to be bred full so bad it’s all you can think about.

”Mh-mghh, Ren~” Your voice doesn’t sound like your own. It barely belongs to you, pitched and tiny and so fucking desperate.

You don’t notice the way your moans are filling the room or how wet and messy your pussy’s getting his pants. Just that his heartbeat’s in his tongue as he sucks harder and harder until his teeth grate over your throat. Ren grunts as he pulls back, one hand grabbing your one of your tits to kneed greedily in the flesh, as the other starts pulling your underwear off from under your skirt. “Smells too much like Umemiya in here-” It’s angry but not accusing, as he stands back to watch your glistening pussy clench around nothing.

“Turn over.” Your legs shake, and without much will of your own you start rolling over to stick your ass in the air to give him a better view. Kaji’s voice just gets quiet, as two fingers slide the slick around your pussy down to your clit. When you mewl, jerking at the touch, he throws his head back and groans deep and animalistically, before holding the fingers to his nose. His eyes clench shut when they roll back in his skull. “Shhh-Stay down. Everything off- fuck, fucking shit, babe. ‘S fucking hot —all mine.”

It’s instinct that makes you oblige. Not a single coherent thought makes it through your brain. Just him, in you, your pussy, your mouth, you want Ren, Ren, Ren, your Alpha fucking you, over you, breeding you. It’s so hot, but you’re still cold without the heat of his fat cock in you. The top goes first, ungracefully pull it over your face and lose an earring in the process. You want him. Your poor pussy wants to be so full, full full full you can’t walk fo a week.

“Alpha, n- hurry, hurry. Hurts without you, really, really does. Wan’get bred. Hurry~”

His headphones land somewhere with a thump as he pulls sweatshirt and shirt over his head in one go, then grabs himself through his jeans with a rumbled swear. You’ve soaked a wet patch through his jeans too. As soon as your skirt’s down the curve of your ass Ren’s already leaning into you, buries his face against your pretty, sloppy pussy and starts to lick and kiss, slurping as he tongue fucks your hole every few seconds.

When he locks lips around your clit you have to force your face down into the blankets to cry out, biting down on the blanket. Spit gets on your cheek when you cry out for him, and grind back against his face. Strong hands and long fingers hold your ass open until he can lick your pussy clean, before pulling back just to spit on it again. “Alpha, alpha, need your c-knot. Please.” You’re babbling to yourself more than to him, because he’s entranced with the way your sloppy pussy winks around nothing, how the slick mixes with his spit to drip down your folds. “Ren, your cock. Puh—lease!”

His long fingers land on your ass a few times, rings stinging upon impact, before he pushes your back down into an even more extreme arch and lets out another groan. “Prettiest Omega pussy I’ve ever seen, only one I want. Ain’t that right? You can act out and be a brat, but this is mine.” You look back over your shoulder just enough to watch him drool, slick down his chin when he pulls back and gives you a look.

Dark eyes almost entirely glossed over, he pinches your clit meanly- and your squeak makes the tiniest curl grace his lips. “Say it for me. Who does this little pussy belong to?”

”You.”

His thumb swipes over your clit before grinding down, two other fingertips pushing into you. “Mh. Who?” He’s mean, he’s so mean it’s making you tear up, forcing your head back into the blankets as your cunt tingles and aches and the touch is making you push back against him.

“You, Ren! It belongs to. My. Alpha. My- aaah-ah- Ren~, fucking please put it in. Ren, Ren please. It hurts.” Tears dampen the fabric, the two fingers sliding in halfway isn’t enough. You need- need more. “Please. Please.” He places another kiss on your clit before his touch vanishes, and you can hear the lewd sound of him licking his own fingers clean. You’re so hot sweat tickles on your hairline, the base of your neck.

And then, the click of his belt makes you moan, loud.

The familiar sound has you biting down on your hand, legs almost giving in. The smell of his musk is making it hard to stay upright. You can barely hear yourself think over the rushing blood between your ears, and the heartbeat thumping in your pussy. He groans, “Look at me. Look here,” and long fingers tangle in your hair to force you. Watch your boyfriend squeeze his pretty, extremely flushed cock a bit too tight. The head’s a blushy purple glossy with precum, that drips as he holds back a little pant.

”Wan’it?”

You don’t speak- can’t. Just back yourself up against him until the cock is rubbing against your ass and the warm pre gets all over you, as you moan. As you try to form a coherent thought, and Ren chuckles. “That’s a sweet way of sayin’ yes. Open your mouth.” He leans in while rubbing geedy circles over your ass, then lets a glob of spit land on your awaiting tongue with another huff. “So good for me.”

His hand spanks you again, hard enough to have you forced forward, before lining up properly. The wet sound of his cock patting on your pussy is the only for a moment, one that seem to last entirely too long— before finally, finally you feel the hot mushroom head push in. Into your slick, wet cunt and pushing past the ring of muscle inside and deeper. Deeper, deeper, until Kaji grunts low and gutturally and his thighs hit against yours as he bottoms out.

It feels so fucking right. Good, full, you want more, wan’ stay like this and your head’s spinning so good— Your breathing only continues when he groans a low ‘breathe’, pulling your hair and shaking your head. “Breathe, baby. Don’t pass out.” Your hands are fisted so tight into the blankets your knuckles show, only managing to lift your head enough to cry out a moan.

”Move, please. Please, move- ghhuh, fuck—ing God.” His hips move back with the squelch of your clamping pussy, then dives back in. The first pump is strained, the second is heaven. It’s only when he starts to move in you that you feel how full you are- how fucking deep he’s hitting inside you and rocking the bed with his weight. He’s moaning so pretty each time he bottoms out- fucking your walls open with each thrust. His balls his against you with a wet ‘pap’, and your tits feel too- too needy.

Your Alpha’s inside, finally, finally, you can’t hold the moaned whimpers. “Ah, agh, ahhRen, t-touch me more, please. Touch me.” You search for his hand that’s holding you down to drag it under your body, making him grunt— only breathing deeper when his nose nuzzles into your neck. Something’s ringing, but you don’t have the free thoughts to think about it.

He’s gonna make you cum. His one hand on your tits, other on your clit, he fucks you like he’s made to be there. Stretches your clenching walls around his curved shaft too perfectly- every thrust makes more slick drip out down your thighs. He feels so good. So- fucking- good. And his panting in your ear, low rumbled voice grating on your brain. He licks along your jaw to wipe some of the sweat, or tears, you can’t tell anymore. “Gonna fuck y’full, breed that stupid Omega pussy like a bunny.”

It just- feels- so so good. You’re gonna cum. You want him to get stuck in you and knock you up. There’s only his breathing and your banging heart, as his cock drives in and out and hits that perfect spot, made for you. His fingers swipe over your clit so good your eyes squeeze shut, and thighs clench. “‘S what you deserve, huh, yeah? You want that? Wan’ me to fuck my knot into you and pump you full of my pups?” You can’t help lock around him, hand digging into his arm. Your entire body stutters and goes white—

Shuddering around his cock as the coil inside you snaps. ”Alpha, R-ah, aghh- ahg, gon’- Mh-ugh Ren!” He drives in again and again and again until your toes stop curling and the desperate hold on his forearm loosens and- the ringing is back. “Mhm-Ren.”

He’s barely conscious as you feel his lashes flutter against your cheek, and he turns to the sound. “Fucking’—” He doesn’t pull out of you, but does reach for the phone just to groan loud, annoyed, clicks his tongue. When he picks up he puts his free hand over your mouth, but presses a kiss to your ear. “Fucking what?” He hisses into the device, rests his head against yours. Still feels good, he still- feels so good. You can’t help clenching around him and making him choke— before he continues. “Short. Enomoto, as short as you fucking can.”

”It’s Kuguri,” you hear him through the phone, “he’s alone, and I’m out of town, so is half of Bofurin. They— it’s bad, Ren. You need to come help.” You know he doesn’t mean to, but a desperate groan is forced out of his throat.

You can tell, it’s entirely instinct the way he desperately tries a little longer to rock himself into you, before letting out a sharp breath through his nose. “W- why is he alone— what are you talking about? What the fuck happened?”

“It’s Shishitoren! Don’t know. They’ve beat his face black and blue, I don’t know either! Hurry to the Ori.” Kaji’s body’s gone entirely tight. Enomoto just says a last, “Umemiya’s orders,” before ending the call, and Ren smashes his phone down into the pillows.

“Ren,” you pant desperately, you want more. “Nhg- Alpha, please, Ren.” You know, it’s not fair, but you’re so- hot. The sane thought that rings through your mind is just so quiet when compared to the budding flower that is your heat. You’re so empty. It’s not enough.

Your Alpha looks like he might burst.

“I- I can’t- fuck,” his hand moves from your mouth to push himself back against you, before he starts sliding out. You turn onto your back to look at him, watch his internal struggle as his thin brows dig such a deep frown it must hurt. Hurt bad— you sit up to grab his hand. You can finish him off! His steely eyes find yours as he clenches his teeth. “Don’t. You say that, I’ll stay and if I stay I won’t wan’ go ever. I don’t wanna go.”

It takes everything in you to keep your mouth shut against the Omega desperately mewling inside you— as a loud bang comes at the door. “Kaji!” It’s Umemiya. “I’m sorry, man. It’s an emergency!”

“Shit- fuck,” the blond grunts out, throws his head back, before grabbing his clothes from the floor. You can’t look or you’ll cry.

“I just heard- came to pick you up. We’re taking my car,” his superior calls through the door, oblivious. It hurts. It physically hurts to watch the way he puts his boxers back on over his incredibly hard cock, breathing deeply all the while. His cock is still so slick it creates a wet imprint through the fabric. “Kaji?”

You hate him a little right now. You hate them both, pushing your hand between your legs to clamp your too little fingers where something much better just filled it— The sound of his quick dressing makes you nauseous. The ache only worsens when your boyfriend sends you an awfully guilty look and wraps his hand around your ankle to squeeze, and you have to shut your eyes against the welling up of an onslaught of tears.

“Coming!” Ren snaps when the fists pound again, and he clicks his tongue.

You know, really, but can’t help but shudder as your fingers rub over your pussy and leave it so unsatisfied. So empty it makes you go cold. Kaji groans out under his breath and opens a new sucker. He leans in to place a kiss on your shin, clenches his eyes shut hard, desperate. “Be right back, baby.”

“Fucking- go, I can’t,” you squeak back, and also cry- there’s no way this is happening. Your skin feels like it’s being turned inside out when his touch leaves you, first slow and then all at once. “Ah-Quickly, Ren, it hurts so bad- hck- agh-ahhh.” You can just manage to clamp your free hand down into the blankets to keep yourself from sliding off the bed in pursuit of more— pushing the image out of your head until you feel the fade of his presence and your body burns.

It hurts so bad.

“You were in the middle of something? Oh. —Oh.”

You hear the latch of the door, but you can’t focus on it, only roll back over to bury your face into the sheets. “Mh-hck—mn hah-Alpha, Alpha, no no no don’t leave, don’t leave. It hurts, it hurts so bad, baby- come back. Come back please. Please, Ren, please, please. Pl- gh-please.” You’re calling your voice hoarse. Your lip is pulled between your teeth at the smell of Alpha all over you, and your whining, needy pussy slicks even more obnoxiously.

“Need t’ fucking leave. Now. I’m gonna -lose it.”

Kaji growls deep and loud, coming from deep in his chest in the other room; even more Alpha scent fills your lungs. Makes you burn from the tips of your ears to your toes, as every cell seems to submit. Another familiar, normally smooth, lithe voice is more raspy when it filters through the wall. “Right behind you, man. You hurry on— I’m just gonna-”

“Where’s Hiragi and the others?”

“I’m calling them now,” Umemiya agrees.

Everything makes your clit thump with blood, your tongue thick and wet licking your lips. The door slams and keys jingle in the lock, and you whine out like a dying welp. “No! Wait, Ren— Alpha, Alpha, please. Please, please I need- I need to- be full. I’m gonna die, hurts so bad.” You’re panting makes everything worse, unsteady, shaking with that horrible feeling of emptiness. “Aw, ah! Don’t leave.”

“Shhh, shh sh shh.”

You claw at the blankets. Alpha scent fills you, and your scenting goes crazy- spiking all over the room. Umemiya’s room. His face flicks through your head, you don’t know why. “Poor pet. Does it hurt that bad?”

You find yourself rubbing your cheek into the blankets up and down weekly, rolled onto your side. Fat tears roll out of your closed eyes. “Hurts. Hurts, please. Help me, I need it- wanna be full. Hck.” A finger drags along your sweaty hairline and makes you mewl, before it's taken away to be sucked clean.

“Fuck, poor, sweet girl. Smell so good in my bed. And you’re dripping sugar-” The hand comes to your neck, down your collar to your tits, and just the single flick of his finger over your perked, puffy nipple makes your pussy gush, mouth dropping open with moans. Drool drips out of your lips and someone wipes it away, as your eyes flutter against the miserable migraine you’re having. “Such a sweet, pretty little Omega. Little breeding bitch ready to get filled up?”

“Please, please, please!” You’re pushed over onto your back, and your legs drop open in response, back curling off the mattress to get a bit closer to the hand dragging down your belly to your leaking cunny. You’re so tired, your eyes won’t work. Someone hooks your leg around them, and two fingertips trace barely sensible over your folds. “Ah! Ah, ah, ah!”

“I know, I know it hurts. Just appreciating the view.” You wanna look. Your cunt aches like the worst cramps you’ve ever had. It takes everything not to start bawling. Luckily, he takes your hand in his and tangles fingers with yours, while the clicking of metal -a belt- and shuffling happens quick. “There we go, pretty baby. Open up, —daddy’s got you.”

“Ah, ah, quickly, hurry~”

It’s only when a warm palm comes to your cheek that you manage to finally force your eyes open, right when a hot, drooling cockhead pushes at your stretched entrance. Blue, gunmetal eyes stare back at yours as an unfamiliar feeling fills you up top to bottom. Your view is wobbly because of the tears, tongue trapped between your teeth. The face before you doesn’t make sense— not until the hand forces your face to his and a kiss is laid on you.

That taste. And he groans, low, rumbly. “Ohh, there- gh- we fucking go.”

An indescribable feeling of relief washes over you so strong that your legs clamp around him and shove him inside up to the hilt, as the coiled spring pulling in your cunt snaps, you claw at him and cry out. “Ume—miya! Ah, agh- Alpha, d-daddy, thank you, thank you, than-gh uhuhh~”

“Come on my -cock, that’s a good cockslut. Such a tight, little whore.”

Your orgasm barrels through you so hard that your feet cramp and you’re locked around him, moans getting swallowed by his tongue. Your vision goes blotchy and black, and the silver blond above you groans out your name as your pussy swallows him to his balls. “Ughd-daddy, more, more, more please! Please! Cum’ feelsso gud.”

“You’re so cute, so- fuck—ing cute.” He chuckles into a messy kiss, bites your lip for you until the tingling makes your legs shake. You can barely feel where you begin and he ends, with the way he’s gripping your thigh so thigh it’ll bruise, pulling you back against his thrusts. “Polite even when you’re cumming. D’ our little Kaji train you like that? Or is that just- for,” every word is accentuated by his cock hitting an entirely different spot, higher up in your belly, “me?”

You’re not sure you even stopped cumming before he starts rubbing your clit hard and fast, but before you know it you’re feeling an entirely different sensation— wetness squirting out around his cock in forceful gushes and getting all over his hands, his thighs and his bed. “Yeah, yeah yeah cum, just like that. So pretty.” Umemiya actually growls at the sight, slipping the wetness over your raw clit over and over and over. “Perfect little Omega whore— fuck.”

”Knew you’d take it if I offered. Isn’t that right, pet?” He yanks your leg up to put it around his bicep, and the thrusts get deeper and harder when he uses all his body weight to slam into you. The sound is filthy. It echoes the walls, and makes your pussy suction around him like you’re willing him to stay. You are, you want to be bred. You want-

“Daddy. Daddy, daddy, please. Want your cum. You need’t cum- hah- in me. Please, daddy. Please, fucking— I need-.”

He’s smiling so wide it looks a bit deranged. Every lewd pap makes you more mindless, and you’re not sure when you laced your hand in his, but they feel molten together. “What do you need, baby? Tell me.”

“K-knot, your knot, please. Breed me. I need to be fucked full.”

His laugh is high pitched, a slight bit hysterical before it dies out when staring deep into your eyes. “Does another Alpha’s cock feel that good inside you? Even better?” He’s sucking the taste of your boyfriend off your tongue, before fucking into your puffy, swollen folds with a satisfied hum. You’re floating, as his fingers dig into your tits. As your poor cunt is filled up, stretched in a completely different way.

He fucks in and out, in and out until he pulls out entirely, then forces the swollen head back in with a guttural grunt. “Good enough that you want to get fucked pregnant, fill you up with my kids? Yeah? You want your boyfriend’s bigger brother?”

”Yes, yes yes yes, please. Breed me full, Ume— Hajime! Hajime!”

He angles his hips a little to fold both your legs to your chest, baring teeth. It shifts his cock in you to the spongy spot in you like nothing else did, and has him moaning. “Oh, fuck, little girl. My cock’s reaching your womb, look— right here.” It makes him pant like a dog. Makes his eyes go wide, dipping his forehead to yours. He’s just so much bigger, so much stronger. Alpha in every sense.

“You know,” he chuckles, short before he hisses at the way your cunt squirms around him. “Since you’re Ren’s, you’re also sort of- my- hgh little sister too. Gonna let niichan fuck you ‘til you get bred?” You’re lost to the world as he bounces you up and down and your pussy spills over into the bed. Umemiya doesn’t care. The flush has crept up on his ears, his chest, he’s pink and sweaty to his fingertips and the way they dig into your skin. “Let it take, let it— that’s a good cheating, little cunt- so- pretty. Ask niichan to cum in you.”

“Cum, pl- pleas,” you slur against his mouth, let him get his face all up in yours. Let him nuzzle your cheek aside for purchase on your neck. “Niichan, niichan, nii-”

His cock pulses the last few sloppy thrusts, letting your cervix create a nice little seal around his cockhead— then he grunts. “Ah- that’s it, thatsit- fuck!” His sucking turns into teeth, and then a bite. One that has your entire body shivering, before your legs stretch out around his hips with another orgasm travelling through you. He swells inside you with a moan, and pushes you deep, even deeper onto him.

The weight of his pervic bone rubbing over your clit and his strong, muscular thighs pressing into your own is all you need to ride out another high ‘til you can’t see straight. It all has you wrapping your arms around him in an embrace that has your mouth open, panting and letting drool spill out.

The cum that hits is hot at first, rutting against you like you’re a fucktoy- but it doesn’t stop. There’s so much of it you try to shift, only to have Umemiya bite down harder on the juncture of you neck, until he breaks skin. “Stay,” he grunts, “take it a—ll. Let me fill you up.” Cum that makes you so hot inside, and squelches when he repositions to push more of himself inside, spilling out every which way. His cock is in until the thick base, and has swollen inside so wide you can’t even shift without it aching. “Ugh, so much cum inside that little body.”

Only after a couple minutes of staying that way, him growling into your skin when you try to escape, does he allow himself to pull back and watch the damage. His knot’s not deflated, but he still slowly starts moving out just to watch his cock flop out over your pussy and let the last squirts of hot cum spill over your clit. The ring of creamy white at the base of his cock and the mess he’s made of your raw pussy is nothing of proof like the bruised, mean bite right between your throat and your shoulder.

You’re too fucked out to notice. It’s cute. You’re cute all over. He squeezes his cock as he lets go of your legs and they stay that way, then laughs when trailing kisses down your thigh. “Kaji had a good thing going. I see why he went to bat over you.” Your eyelids flutter when he thumbs your pussy open, and buries his nose into it. His tongue delves into it just to lap up most of the extra cum, then leans over you to push your lips open. You just let him spill the mess of cum and spit and slick into your mouth, swallow it like a good little pet.

“And I don’t just mean your pussy either. I know you’re more than just that. If you weren’t, Togame wouldn’t bitch so much to see you again.” It makes him hum softly, and lay down beside you with a gentle motion to pull you in. Willing or not, you’re gonna snuggle into him a little longer. This is only the first of many days you two will spend like this. “We’re gonna have to make a visit to your old friends one of these days, ‘kay?”

He feels bad about the situation Kaji’s run into by now, beat hard enough to break a few ribs. It’s not enough to kill him, but Togame doesn’t know when to quit. Or rather, he quits only when he’s been told to quit. Your smell feels so nice wrapped around him, watching how you drift into a dreamless sleep with your cunt full of his cum. He could honestly go again, but maybe not right now.

“Niichan’s promised to make a diplomatic little gesture. You get it, right?”

All Rights Reserved © IWAASFAIRY 2024. Works are exclusive to this Tumblr.

mafia au kuroo x f!reader

a/n - daddy kink, authority issues, d!kuroo, s!reader, lifestyle dom kuroo and reader brats for a second before giving in, praise degradation, good girl, he manhandles you, throws u around a bit, breeding but only a smidge. if you're ever interested in the context of this lmk

minors and ageless blogs dni

“My honor has limits.” He watches you struggle trying to unzip your own dress, watches you twist your back around trying to get it without asking for his help. Adorable. “Stop that, please.” To his delight, you freeze and he comes up behind you slowly, resting his hands on your waist for a moment before unzipping it for you. "You'll have to get used to asking me for help with things." Your mouth goes dry.

“I, I can try.” You say softly, feeling his breath on your neck. He slowly, carefully, starts to slip you out of your dress, you can feel every brush of his fingertips on you, cool against your burning skin.

“You’ve got goosebumps, sweetheart.” He breathes, leaning down to speak directly in your ear, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say that you want me.” The dress is bunched around your waist now, and you can smell his cologne, sharp and masculine. He moves very slowly, as if he’s waiting for you to stop him. Kuroo pushes it down, hooking  his thumbs in the soft material, pushing it down farther until it moves past your hips and crumples to the floor. He takes them in his hands, pulling you against his body. He’s still fully dressed but you can feel his muscles through his thin shirt, and his erection tents his pants, rubbing against your ass. You feel his lips on your neck and you moan softly, “Tell me,” he says, “Tell me you want me to stop, kitten,” 

“I, um,” you start, your voice pitched oddly, senses overwhelmed. It had been, a very long day. “Oh, god,” you say, stomach dropping when you feel his teeth on your neck, yelping a little when he bites down, hard. "Kuroo!"

“What are you supposed to call me when we're alone?” he purrs, moving his hands up your body, palming your breasts through your bra. “You’re barely breathing.” He says, a teasing edge to his voice. “Tell me to stop and I will, baby.” It takes a moment, but you shake your head. “No, you don’t want me to?” You nod, unable to look up at him. “Use your words.” He commands, still kind but there's an authoritative edge to his tone. 

“Don’t stop.” you breathe, turning around to look at him. “Please. I don't want you to-” He picks you up and throws you on the bed, you squeal as you fly through the air, completely caught off guard. You bounce on the mattress for a second as he tugs his tie off with one hand. He tears out of his clothes in seconds, and then he dives on top of you, devouring your neck, sucking and biting bruises into your skin, and  you’re moaning and grinding your hips up against his. 

“You’re so fucking pure.” He taunts. “You don’t even steal? Isn't that right?” You go to bite back and gasp when he bites you particularly hard.

“It’s, it’s wrong.” You manage. He laughs, a harsh mean sound. 

“I think," He says, unclipping your bra in one smooth movement, “You act like terrible brat, with a bad attitude,” you moan, loudly when he closes his mouth over one of your nipples, tweaking the other with his hand, "But deep down, you were hoping this would happen, weren't you,” 

“Oh, oh fuck,” you cry out as he bites down on your nipple, 

“Hoping I'd give you a reason to let down those walls hm?” He growls, “Fuck you’re little sounds are driving me fucking insane,” He dives back to your neck for only a moment and then leans back, slipping a hand underneath your panties, “You’re fucking soaked, god, you’re dripping.” You shift uncomfortably and then gasp when he slips a finger inside of you, your back arching, as you cry out. “Yeah, do you like that baby, come on slut, say my fucking name, who’s making you feel good, who is it?” he presses against that spongey spot inside of you, and you cry out again, 

“Daddy, please, please,” he growls in satisfaction, “Daddy, fuck me, fuck me please,” you beg, “I want it, I’ll be good.” He practically rips you out of your panties, but you can't bare to be that far from him, sitting up and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He smirks a you for a second before he flips you over and takes a fistful of your hair forcing your back into a harsh arch, 

“Are you sure kitten,” He rubs the head of his cock against your folds, with the patience of either a saint or a madman, you're not sure which, “Only good girls get fucked, are you sure you’ve been good enough?” 

“Please daddy,” you say, desperately, unsure of what combination of degradation and submission will unlock his mercy, “I’ve been good, I’ll keep being good, I promise.” He hums a kind of low growl, it's almost a satisfied noise but it stutters to a gasp as he eases inside you. He leans over your back, letting out a sharp breath at how good you feel, tight, and warm, and soft.

‘Such a good girl, baby, your pussy is so fucking wet for me, and warm, fuck,” He growls, “Fuck, baby,” he starts to fuck you at an easy pace, releasing your hair and grabbing handfuls of you as he arcs his hips into you. 

“More, please,” you beg, “I want it harder, please daddy.” You ask and he chuckles and slaps your ass hard before obliging, picking up the pace and bottoming out on every thrust. 

“You know not to cum without daddy’s permission, right bitch?” He asks and you let out a whimpered confirmation.

“Yes, yes I know.” 

“Good fucking girl.” He growls, taking your hair again and pulling you back so that you can’t support yourself with your hands on the bed anymore. Your hands flail in the air for a second before he snaps, “Behind your back.” And you immediately oblige, keening for him as he bottoms out in you. He slaps your ass with his free hand, then loops it around your waist, pinning your back to his chest.

“I need to cum,” You beg, and the words spill from your lips before you've even fully thought them, “Please, I-” He almost sounds surprised when he responds. 

“Not yet.” He somehow picks up his already brutal pace, and you can feel him hitting your cervix with every thrust, sending waves of pleasure across your whole body. 

“Daddy please,” You beg again, feeling yourself tremble under his hands, the coil in your stomach tightening, “Please I’ll do anything you want please let me cum,” you feel his lips on your shoulder, he takes another beat before responding.

“Go ahead, baby,” he coos, “Cum all over daddy’s cock, kitten, cum for daddy.” You let the coil in your stomach go and your whole body spasms. He curses violently, feeling you clench around him, he fucks you hard, riding out your orgasm and following seconds later. You don’t even think about the fact that you’re not on birth control as he finishes inside you and then lets go of your hair, both of you collapsing onto the bed, chests heaving. You’re crying softly and he holds you close to him, curling your quivering form into his bare chest.

"Still mad at me?" He asks in the silence, rubbing your back. You shake your head. "That's what I thought."

darlin' darlin'

mikey x reader, ran x reader

summary - mikey decides it's time to remind ran who's in charge.

cws - sex worker reader, rans gf reader, mikey cucks ran, degradation, praise, i made mikey's cock huge what do you want from me. i don't think this is hurt comfort but there could be a littol angst in that rans not thrilled mikey's fucking his girlfriend and mikey's mean about it. daddy kink, reader sings.

MINORS DNI

Mikey didn’t want to come. He didn’t want to be at another club, he didn’t want to get high, or drunk, he was still hungover from the day before, a dull throbbing at the back of his head as he leans against the bar. He rubs his eyes.

“You can dip soon,” Sanzu offers. “This’ll be a great front for us, all the tips and stuff, s’great way to clean off our money. I give him a lotta shit but Haitani was right.” Mikey massages his temples. 

“What’s that they say about a broken clock?” He orders a whiskey. “That Haitani has to be right sometimes or someone woulda put a bullet through his head by now.” Sanzu snickers. The drink comes seconds later, chilled, with one large ice cube, exactly the brand he likes. The bar is crowded, but not packed, dark wood and red velvet. The brass accents sparkle in the low light, and men in expensive suits lounge in secluded benches. The stage is empty for now, but the floor of it shines, sparkling with expectation. “How does this work again?” Mikey takes another long sip. 

“The girls come out and perform,” Sanzu explains, “They collect tips, but the men have to bid on them blindly if they want to take them home for the night. They write how much they’d spend on a night with her, but they have to guess how much they’d go for, the bids aren’t displayed, and it costs 10,000 yen to bid. Highest bidder pony’s up and takes the girl for the night. All cash.” 

“Huh,” Mikey realizes he’s finished his drink quickly, the whiskey warm in his ribs. “You’re right, this’ll be perfect.” 

“I’m sure Ran had a great time testing them out,” Sanzu smiles wickedly, “He always does.” 

“Actually,” A voice pipes up from behind them, and Haitani Ran strides across the plush carpet over to the bar, “I liked one of ‘em so much I kept her. It finally happened, I’ve been tied down.” 

“Doubt it.” Sanzu’s grin widens. 

“I’m wounded,” Ran touches his heart, “You don’t think I could be happy with just one girl?.” Mikey clears his throat and Ran gives him a little bow. “Whaddya think?” He asks, gesturing to the packed gentlemans club and reluctantly Mikey nods. 

“It’s nice.” He sighs, and leans against the bar. “Looking forward to seeing the girls.” Ran nods. 

“Not to brag but I’ve outdone myself this time.” He orders a drink and it’s in his hands seconds later. 

“So, what?” Sanzu said, “Are we going to meet this girl?” 

“Yeah,” Ran sips his scotch, “She’ll perform, but uh, don’t think anyone’s gonna outbid me.” 

“You’re willing to bet on that?” Sanzu raises his eyebrows. 

“Literally, yes. No one here would cross me.” Ran says, his lavender eyes darkening. “Plus,” he grins, “Think this one might actually tie me down. For real.” 

“I’ve heard that before.” Rindou joins the group, shaking his head at his brother. 

“You’ll know when you see her!” Ran protests, “Bet even Mikey will admit she’s fine as fuck.” Mikey is getting a refill on his whiskey, and shrugs. 

“I’m,” he pauses, “Particular.” 

“As someone who’s spent a fair amount of time acquiring paid company for you,” Ran says, a weak smile on his face, “I know.” He stretches a little, enjoying that he’s a good few inches taller than even the next largest Bonten executive. 

“I like,” Mikey starts to explain, then stops, frowning, “I like nice girls.” He finishes. 

“She’s real nice,” Ran smirks, and Mikey doesn't get a chance to respond, because the lights darken, and the light chatter of the men in the booths subsides a little. The first woman walks onto the stage, in a green satin dress that skims her curves, with eyes that glitter, the pianist begins playing a soft, jazzy song and she opens her mouth, starting to sing. Her voice is low and sensual, and she keeps her eyes mostly closed, punctuating certain phrases by lifting her gaze to the audience, gifting them with her attention. Waitresses in tiny outfits take bids from men in bespoke suits, the smoke from their cigars wafts towards the ceiling. 

“I can’t believe you managed to combine the two things that rich assholes like most,” Rindou grumbles, “Pussy and gambling.” Sanzu nods. Ran leans back on the bar, 

“Even Kokonoi had to admit this was a good idea.” He says, as the first girl finishes her song, and is led off the stage by a waiter, who leads her to the booth with the man who had bid the most money. A pretty waitress with curly blonde hair taps Ran’s shoulder, hands him a note. “She just went for 500,000 yen. Cash.” 

“Don’t forget the other thing rich assholes like,” Rindou offers, “Showing off.” The man who won the first girl makes a show of putting his coat on and leading her upstairs and out of the bar, to the rooms upstairs. A few more women perform, and they’re all talented and beautiful in exactly the way Ran likes, kind smiles, intelligent eyes, something deeper happening behind the surface, the kind of beauty that makes men want to pry their souls open, and unravel their secrets. The kind of beauty that launches ships, that starts wars.

He had a talent, begrudgingly acknowledged among Bonten, for running these kinds of establishments, the same way Kokonoi could sniff out a deal, or Mikey’s natural predisposition to landing on his feet in a fight, he’d balance the right amount of discretion and flash, of propriety and fun. Of course, usually the most beautiful women ended up in his bed, and tonight would be no different, Mikey assumes. He glances at the exit, a few more women, each more talented and beautiful than the next, had taken the stage, and he was getting bored with the exercise. He stares out at the crowd of men, who would occasionally heckle each other and push each other to spend more, and downs his drink, eyes dulling. Is this the legacy Ran was comfortable leaving? He wonders, Ran who talked often and loudly, of his desire to father children, but seemed incapable of even sticking to a regular prostitute. Did he care what he was remembered for? Mikey is so busy studying his subordinate that he almost doesn’t see you walk on stage. 

The first thing Mikey sees is your thigh, a long leg peeking out from a slit that cuts nearly up to your hip, you can’t be wearing panties, is his first thought, you must not be, and his mouth drops open as the rest of you saunters on stage. The dress is low cut, a glistening red velvet, dipping between your perfect breasts, a thin gold chain is around your neck. Your hair is impeccably styled, sweeping around your face, the soft wash of makeup you’ve applied perfectly accentuates your natural, breathtaking beauty. A hush falls over the crowd, and you part your lips. 

“Love,” you start, perfectly on pitch, tone like a whispered bell tone, “I said, real love, is like feeling no fear, in the face of danger.” The music picks up underneath you, and when you open your eyes the energy in the room crackles, deep and dark, shimmering with energy, it’s like you’re staring right through the men in front of you. Mikey closes his mouth, but not before the others notice. None of them speak though, equally transfixed by your song, a modern siren in strappy heels and winged eyeliner. “A touch, from your real love,” you sing, the corner of your mouth twitching into a smile, “Is like heaven takin’ the place of somethin’ evil,” you sway gently, one hand delicately wrapped around the microphone stand. “And I want it,” You catch Mikey’s eyes, he could swear it, “So, much.” Mikey is distracted by Ran waving a waiter over and passing her a note. He realizes, floats back down to earth after his initial infatuation, and is immediately deeply annoyed at the idea of anyone else's hands on your body, anyone else parting your thighs. 

“Told ya she was fine.” Ran mutters, shaking his head at Mikey, who comes to terms with several things very quickly, one, that you weren’t his, two, that you were Ran’s of all people, and three, that unless he acted very quickly, you weren’t going home with him tonight. 

“Darlin, darlin, darlin,” you sing, closing your eyes, clinging to the microphone stand, “I fall to pieces, when I’m with you, I fall to pieces,” your hips are almost hypnotic, the softness of your voice is addicting, “My cherries, and wine, rosemary, and thyme,” and he feels almost paralyzed, stuck watching you, unable to call a waitress over, to tell Ran to hand you over. The song ends and a waiter helps you down from the stage in your heels, leading you to the back of the room, and a chorus of boos from the men as Ran slips his arm around your waist. 

“I pay for it just like you fellas,” He says with a grin, “Simmer down.” They do, after a few good natured jabs. Mikey’s stomach turns as you blink up at Ran, who leans down and presses a kiss to your lips. 

“Angel,” He says, gesturing to the other men. “These are my colleagues and my brother, Mikey, Sanzu, and Rindou.” You extend a manicured hand, your nails are the same deep red as your dress. They each take it, and greet you. “Dinner?” He says to the other men, “Or join me in the back once  you’ve,” he gestures to the stage, “Found some entertainment?” 

“I’ll come now.” Mikey says, unsmiling, sliding off his barstool. 

“There’s nothing you think could tempt you,” Ran teases, grip on your waist tightening, daring Mikey to rip you away, “Nothing at all?” The truth was unspoken between them, Mikey knew what he wanted, and Ran knew it too, knew that the pleasure he was dreaming of was locked between your legs, knew that his only hope of ecstasy was just out of reach. Mikey shrugs. 

“I’m,” he doesn’t look at you, “Particular.” Ran’s lips curl into a smile. 

“That you are, boss.” He leads you and Mikey out of the main room into a private dining area, slightly more well lit, a bit more golden, but in sharper relief you only look more beautiful, Mikey notes, settling on the other side of you at the table. Ran settles a hand on your thigh and orders for you, without asking what you’d want. Mikey follows, quickly and the scantily clad waitress disappears. 

“I find it hard to believe you’re so particular that no one here is your type,” You say to him, when the food starts to arrive, steaming baskets of dumplings opened on the table. “Not even Lara?” 

“Which one was Lara?” He asks, reaching for a dumpling. 

“She was first, in green.” You offer, and he shrugs. 

“I guess,” he says, “I work very hard, and I’m careful about dedicating my time to people who are untested.” You nod sagely. 

“That I can understand.” Sanzu and Rindou stumble in with girls on their arms. 

“Hope you paid,” Ran says, eyes narrowing, “We can’t be ripping ourselves off.” His hand moves up your thigh under the table, Mikey’s stomach turns, but you keep your face neutral, bringing a spoonful of soup to your lips. You lean into Ran’s arm, and Mikey swears he can see a slight blush creep onto the Bonten executive’s cheeks. 

“Excuse me,” you murmur, standing and walking to the bathroom. Mikey takes another big sip of his drink, the alcohol hits him hard, and he can’t tear his eyes from your disappearing figure.

“Listen,” Ran says, cutting in on his thoughts as you round the corner to the restrooms. “She’s a good girl,” Mikey looks at his executive, not catching what he means. “You can have her, for the night.” 

“For the night?” Mikey repeats. 

“I’m seeing her,” Ran says, checking his reflection in a knife. “I can’t say I’ll like it, but if you want her, go ahead. On me.” He glances at the shorter man. “Regrettably, I’m a touch attached.” 

“I can see that.” Mikey says, taking another sip of his drink. “I’ll take her.” Ran nods, and Mikey detects traces of vulnerability in him that he’s never seen before. “And you can watch.” Ran blinks at him. “You heard me.” Mikey deadpans. “You’ll be watching.” 

“I-” 

“This is not a negotiation.” Mikey’s eyes harden, “You don’t tell me that I can have something that belongs to Bonten, I own this place, I own you, and I definitely own her.” He scowls. An unreadable emotion crosses Ran’s face. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Glad we remembered our place.” Mikey stands, intercepting you as you return from the bathroom. “We’re going upstairs.” He says and you give him the gentlest, most polite smile, and a tiny little bow. He slips an arm around your waist, leading you up the stairs. They’re dark wood, and carpeted with a lush red rug, softening the sound of Ran’s footsteps behind you. “Do you have a room?” He asks, and you nod. 

“Yes, sir.” You chirp, your tone still soft and muted, but loud enough to cut through the sounds of the conversation in the restaurant below. You feel his grip on your waist tighten as you reach the top, steadying you in  your heels. You don’t look back at Ran, your heart racing. “This way.” You take them both down to the end of the hallway, and open a heavy, dark wood door. Your room has warm, rich, red walls, and dark furniture. There’s a huge bed, covered with pillows, and sitting next to a light pink armchair is a small wicker basket of what looks like toys. You hold the door for both men, Ran has to duck his head to fit under the door frame. You let it close behind you, standing in  your dress. Mikey walks immediately to the basket, digging through it. 

“Take your shoes off.” He orders, and you’re struck by how soft his voice is. It’s not light, or kind, but naturally soft, almost muffled. You sneak a glance at Ran, who's got his hands shoved in the pockets of his suit. You bend over, undoing the buckle on the top of your strappy heel and then stepping out of it, letting out a soft sigh of relief. You fold even more to get the other one, taking both and setting them next to the bed. Mikey hasn’t turned around, but you realize without your shoes that he’s actually taller than you. Ran is gigantic without your heels, well over six feet tall, and he doesn’t offer you any comfort, doesn’t dare touch you. His face is completely unreadable as Mikey takes the basket and sets it on the floor, striding across the room and handing something to you. They’re a pair of red leather handcuffs, the silver chain glinting in low light. “Put those on him.” Mikey says, and you reach for Ran’s hand, but the blonde clears his throat. “Behind his back.” 

“One sec.” Ran says, and his voice sounds normal, but there’s just a touch of forced brightness to his tone. He slips out of his huge suit jacket, setting it on top of your dresser. He must catch something in your expression, because he gives you a little smile, “Be gentle with me sweetheart,” he teases, and that brings a little smile to your face as you walk softly behind him. Mikey watches the small interaction, jealousy broiling in his stomach. Why Ran, he wondered, why Ran, of all people who you could seem deserving of affection. Vain, lazy, snarky, what the hell did Haitani Ran have that he didn’t? He clears his throat and for the first time, fear flashes on your face. 

“I’m having trouble with the clasp.” You look at him, doe eyed, begging for help and his cock twitches in his pants. 

“Here.” Mikey strides over, closing the cuffs and taking Ran by the arm, sitting him in the silk pink armchair, in full view of the bed. Ran shifts uncomfortably, it’s been a long time since he’d attempted to exist in any way while restrained. Mikey turns his attention to you, reaching out and gently pushing some hair out of your face. “Are you nervous,” he asks, hands coming to rest on your waist, you nod, and you feel his lips on your forehead, your eyes flutter shut. “I’m not gonna let him be upset with you,” he murmurs. “He, like you, belongs to me.” You look up at him sharply, and a little smile flits across his face. “That’s right.” He breathes, “That’s right, you belong to me.” His hand slips down the satin of your dress, and dips between the slit, moving between your thighs, finding you as bare as he’d expected. “Good girl,” he praises, immediately able to feel how wet you are, gathering some arousal on his fingers before dipping two of them inside you, feeling the warmth of your little gasp on his skin. “Shhhh,” he breathes, looking at Ran, who remains impassive, sitting in the chair. “Shhh, baby.” you feel his lips on your cheek as he starts pumping them in and out of you. He nudges your clit out of its hood with his thumb, lips trailing burning kisses down your cheek, to your jaw, to the crook of your neck. “I wanna see you cum for me,” he whispers, “I want to feel it on my fingers, understand?” 

“Mhm,” you whimper, already finding it difficult to keep your thighs from shaking, the pleasure he’s providing is so steady, not building, bringing you to a cliff and leaving you there. 

“You know why I’m prepping you so good,” he says, arm around your waist tightening as your moans rise in pitch, as the sound of him fucking you with his fingers becomes wet and lewd, “Know why, baby?” You shake your head dumbly. 

“No, I,” you shudder, he cuts you off mid sentence by flicking his thumb over your bud, “I, I don’t,” 

“Can’t even speak,” Mikey says, softly reveling in the little victory, “That stupid already, all the words gone from that pretty little head?” You nod, moaning softly, holding his gaze. “That’s it, look at daddy,” he coaches, “Want you to look me in the eyes while you cum for me, understand?” He picks up the pace, forcing any remnants of a response you could have to that back down in your throat. “I’m prepping you,”  he explains, with the patience of a saint as your noises start to sound less like pleas and more like whimpers, “Because you’ve never taken a cock like mine.” Ran shifts uncomfortably in his chair, just as Mikey kisses you, drinking up your soft little sounds. “Gonna cum?” He murmurs right into your lips, “Go ahead, cum for me, I wanna feel it.” 

“Oh,” you manage, the second your lips are free, your orgasm ripping through your body, overwhelming pleasure running through your veins, toes curling as you cling to Mikey for dear life, wrapping your arms around his neck. He holds you up, grunting softly as he lays you down on the bed. He’s drunk on you, drunk on the warmth of your skin, on your sweet, musical sounds, on the way your dress splays out underneath you. He’s nearly forgotten about his subordinate when he hears the chair creek again. He glances at the taller man, half climbed on top of you, one leg between your thighs, hands above your shoulders, when his lips curl into a cruel smile. Ran’s unmistakably hard, a huge tent in his suit pants as he squirms in the chair. A laugh falls from Mikey’s lips before he can stop it, and then he decides he doesn’t care, tapping you lightly on the arm and directing your attention to your boyfriend. 

“He must like you,” Mikey muses, “To still be getting off when he’s not even touching you,” Ran looks away. “Kind of,” Mikey traces a pattern on your bare thigh, “He’s kind of pathetic looking, like this.” You blink up at Mikey, then look over at Ran. Your teeth sink into your lower lip as you consider, and both men watch, you let out a soft little sigh. 

“Can I touch him?” You ask, and Mikey considers. 

“No.” He says after a long moment. “If he’s good, maybe I’ll let him eat my cum out of your pussy, hm?” He doesn’t give you time to react, pushing you back down on the mattress with one hand on your clavicle, climbing back on top of you quickly. He yanks his shirt off, throwing it on the floor and not missing the way your eyes rake down his chisled form, he might not be taller than Ran, but fuck he knew he was stronger. He pins your wrists to the bed and kisses you, losing himself in your softness, the way your body curves up to meet his, and fuck, yes, he knows he’s got you when you grind against his clothed thigh. 

“Fuck,” you both hear, and you freeze but Mikey ignores Ran, ignores him muttering under his breath, groaning, “Fuck, I,” you look over at him, and his face is red, he’s writhing against the restraints, desperately attempting to get some friction, some sensation from his cock that’s trapped in his pants. 

“You wanna look at him so badly,” Mikey cautions, ‘I’ll make you stare at him the whole time.” Your eyes widen and you focus back on him. “He’s not here,” Mikey breathes, and you shudder, feeling the warmth of his lips on your neck. “He’s not here, and you don’t belong to him.” He pushes your thighs apart with his legs, reaching up and fumbling with his fly. “You belong,” he sucks in a sharp breath, pressing the head of his cock to your pulsing clit, pulling away so that he could watch you reach to it, this, this was his favorite part. “You belong to me.” He roughly sheaths himself inside you and you keen, it hurts, he’s easily the longest, the thickest cock you’ve ever taken, tears spring to your eyes and he kisses them away, “Shhh, shh,” he says, oozing smugness, “So pretty, such a pretty girl,” he rolls his hips against yours experimentally, still half buried in you. 

“Please,” You beg, “Please, can  you, would you go slow?” He reaches down, cupping your face, 

“Paying attention to me now, huh?” He says, and you nod emphatically. 

“Sorry,”  you choke out, feeling him push a little further inside you, “Yes, yes daddy, I’m,” your eyes roll back in your head, he feels the way you clench around him. “Paying, I’m paying attention.” 

“Good girl,” he says, pushing the last few inches inside you, rubbing at your clit before withdrawing a little and fucking you deep and slow. You feel so full you struggle for breath, hands fisting the soft pink sheets, you feel him wiping away your tears as he picks up the pace just a little. “How does it feel? You feel full?” You nod, whimpering. 

“Feels, feels so good.” you choke out, “But it’s, it’s so much.” 

“I know,” he nods at you, mocking, glancing at Ran, “I know it’s so much, so much for our pretty girl to take huh?” Ran makes some kind of strangled noise in the chair. “Should have gagged you,” Mikey continues, still in the same sweet, soft voice he was speaking to you with, but there’s a darker undercurrent to his tone. “Always running your fuckin’,” he throws his head back with pleasure, “Runnin’ your fuckin’ mouth,” he looks down at you, “You, baby,” he fucks you harder, pulling sharp mewls from your lips, “You’re more than just a pretty face huh, got a fuckin’, fuckin’ incredible pussy,” you moan in response and he chuckles, running a hand through his hair. “Whaddya say when daddy gives you a compliment huh?” 

“Th-” you manage and you feel his cock nudge your g-spot for the third time in a row and know he’s found the right angle, the one that makes your toes curl, that arches your back up off the mattress, “Thank you daddy,” you get out the words on the edge of a hushed moan, “I, I’m gonna, if you keep fucking me there I”m gonna-” 

“Greedy,” he taunts, “You wanna cum twice before I do?” He’s losing some of his composure now, you’re sure of it, the feeling of your soft, warm walls clenching around him, but he manages to look at Ran and smirk, “You shoulda taught her better manners.” You don’t dare check on Ran, not again, but the idea of his eyes on your skin, on the way Mikey’s rocking the bedframe with the force of his thrusts makes the coil in your stomach tighten. 

“Jesus christ,” you hear and you catch Ran snap the toy handcuffs like they’re plastic, not bothering to remove them from his wrists before unbuttoning his pants and pulling his cock out with a desperate urgency, “Please,” he begs, in a tone you’ve never heard before, that he’s never used with you, and that’s when you realize that he’s talking to Mikey, “Please don’t stop, fuck,” Ran shudders as he rubs the tip of his cock before fucking, “God, she’s so hot I-” 

“If you cum before I do, Haitani I swear to god,” Mikey snarls, and the tone is so sharp in contrast to how he’s been speaking that you jump, “Oh,” he turns back to you, “Daddy can be mean, yeah, so be good, be good for me.” You nod, and he hooks his arms around your shoulders, plowing you into the mattress, your vision nearly whites out when you feel him bite down hard on the shell of your ear and then growl. “I’m gonna cum inside this pussy, yeah,  you want that,” you whimper in response, “I’m gonna cum inside you,” he groans, “And I want you to cum with me, you ready,” 

“Please,” you cry out, “Please, Daddy, need to-” 

“Shut up,” he grunts, before groaning loudly, just as your orgasm breaks over you like a wave, you feel him cumming inside, feel how hot it is, feel it squirt out around his length, making your thighs sticking, your palms ache with desire, the pleasure rolls through you wave after wave, and you’re not sure how long you endure the sightless free fall, but when you blink back into your body Mikey is lying next to you. You open your eyes just in time to see Ran cum all over his hands, swearing violently. “Shh, shh,” Mikey pushes your face back to his. “Don’t look at him baby, don’t look at him.” You obey, blinking dumbly. You hear Ran stand, imagine he’s grabbing a towel from your bathroom. Mikey tucks you into his chest, rubbing the back of your head. “Are you in pain?” He asks softly, finding that the usual urge to make a hasty exit isn’t bubbling to the surface. You nod. “I thought you might be.” He presses his lips to the top of your head. You hear a loud smack and with a giggle, realize that Ran’s hit his head on the top of the door frame. 

“Jesus fucking christ.” He snaps, wiping his hands. “Are you finished with her, or,” he blurts, glancing towards the door. 

“I’ll let you know when we’re done,” Mikey says, and feels you stiffen against him, but ignores it. “Sit back down.”

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