premise: After multiple encounters with the man, after too many bickerings, you decide to settle the tension between you.
words: 7,315
notes and warnings: It's filth with spoons of sins, please minors dni.
*slap fic* this bad boy can hold so many kinks : kinda chocking, I'm sorry but I can't imagine Beni not being a mocking and mean dom, fighting for dominance, dom/sub relationship, kinda roleplay, rough sex, kinda oral, use of abilities, kind of bondage, kinda sassy reader (I tried), mocking Beni (but not degrading Beni), spanking, overstimulation and probably other stuffs but I can't remember. (Please ignore the grammatical errors)
My demons plays too well with @gojoho's demon - an incredible writer who writes awesome jjk smuts, you should check her out - , the outcome created this monstrosity. This author nothing and everything.
There might be sequels or at least headcanons to that.
You had a problem.
The dying sun melted into the horizon, streams of warm sunlight painting a healthy glow on Benimaru’s skin. The sun wheel dancing in his back would soon become the only source of light around you. From the patio outlooking the small garden of the fire brigade building, you spied beads of sweat running down his temples before disappearing beneath his kimono upper garment. He wasn’t wearing his white shirt underneath.
You licked your lips almost mindlessly, feasting on the sight of his collarbones and the top of his chest.
You have been, admittedly, ignoring the cause of the problem for far too long. And now, the problem that was, at first, easy to ignore festered within you and became an even bigger problem.
A light breeze ruffled through the mini bamboo forest. The song of the wind chime meshed with the rhythmic tic-tac of the Shishi Odoshi fountain and the crackling of his fire to create the dangerous aria of freedom that thrummed within every citizen’s heart.
Movements in your periphery caught your eyes, diverting you from the sinful thoughts plaguing your mind. A dragonfly landed on a half-closed lily pad and took off again before a frog preying in the pond could catch it.
Most insects, because they knew what was good for them, stood clear of Benimaru’s flames. But there were some, much like you, that would throw caution to the wind to be kissed by his fire.
You yearned for Benimaru Shinmon.
The realization had made you scoff at first. You, the vice-captain of the 6th company, entertained the fantasy of dominating the mightiest fire soldier of the Empire. Of having him on his knees between your legs, slanted down eyes watching from below with a hint of adoration, helplessness and hunger.
He who stood above everyone would bow to you.
Sometimes, the intensity of your yearning unsettled you, a desire far darker than you were accustomed to. It’s not like you were particularly dominant by nature. You liked being on top, being the one in control, the one who granted pleasure and could take it back just as fast. But you liked being dominated just as much. To have someone manhandled into submission, to chase your release only to get it ripped from your grasp, to have your body singing with both pleasure and frustration to reach a greater orgasm.
Your eyes were irresistibly drawn back to his form, to the flawlessness of his posture that he held for almost an hour now. He exhaled through his mouth. You reported your attention to his lips, to the heaviness of his bottom lip, full and perfect to bite. His upper lip was on the thinner side but you've kissed worst mouths before. You wouldn't complain.
Truthfully, after psychoanalyzing yourself during one of those nights, you realized that your desire to dominate him likely came from your first few meetings.
His nonchalance to authority and every citizen of the Empire had rubbed your pride the wrong way, creating the sparks to ignite your temper. It got worse after he rudely commented on the tephrosis’s medication system you helped install. At that moment, you would have given anything to wring his strong neck-
“You’re still here.” Benimaru’s voice, as emotionless as ever, had the undertone of a sigh. He shifted, readjusting his posture after the annoying scratching of your nails on wood created a momentary lapse of concentration.
-but it got better, you guessed.
Your lips curled up, the sweetness of your mocking laughter grating his ears, as you laid back on your side, watching Benimaru Shinmon over the knuckles of your fist. “Ignore me as much as you want but it’s not gonna make me leave.”
Eyes still closed, he refused to acknowledge your presence, curling his fingers slightly more. His back turned blazing as he put more power into his meditation. “You’re a pain.”
“Not my problem.” You shifted, making yourself more comfortable. You grabbed your cup of tea, quietly savoring the bitter taste of green tea.
From the way his lips thinned to the overly tensed muscles in his shoulders, you were getting to him. It was only a matter of time before he would look at you.
“Not mine either. Go back to your company.”
“Make me, Benimaru Shinmon~”
He clicked his tongue, furrowing his brows and turned his head to give a piece of his mind. He paused once he saw you, your outfit and your damn big smirk.
The garden darkened as the flames in his back died down. He settled for a glare, running a hand down his hair and watching the two fire threads coming from your fingers connect with the lanterns near you. With a snap of your fingers, you lighted them up. “What the hell are you wearing? There isn’t any festival today.”
What you were wearing was a pretty damn expensive outfit.
The black hakama wrapped around your belly was made of silk and embroidered with pink flowers at the bottom while your haori was hand-stitched by an Asakusa citizen. White with silver patterns of koi fishes and some green and pale pink lotuses, you couldn’t deny that it was your favorite part of the outfit.
To complete the look, your hair was gathered in a bun tightly held in place by hairpins crowning it like a sun. Almost as if you were the enlightened one.
You looked good and he thought so too. His eyes roamed over your figure a few seconds longer than in your everyday clothes. You knew Benimaru liked to see you in traditional clothing - he commented on it once - just as much as you disliked wearing it, which was pretty telling. The garb was too cumbersome.
“In Asakusa, it’s not.” You watched as he approached, planting himself right in front of you. “It’s Sol’s day.”
His scoff made you chuckle. You weren’t fond of that religion either. Though, you reckoned, it had more to do with the restrictions it imposed over Company 6 than whatever deep-rooted disgust the man had for it.
He grumbled something about ‘celebrating an oppressing god’ and ‘stupid religion’ but you ignored him, handing him a cup of tea. “Tea? I kept it warm for you.”
He stared at it, at you, then back at the cup before crossing his arms.
Brat. You squinted. He sighed.
“I don’t like tea.” He said, like a liar. Still, he took it from you, sitting next to your feet.
“Always drink after exerting yourself.” You nagged, the remark coming easily out of your mouth after repeating it hundreds of times to your little trainees.
He frowned, hiding a hand inside his kimono, but sipped on it. You weren’t a member of Company 6 for nothing, you knew what you were talking about. The strain Ignition abilities put on the body wasn’t something to laugh at and Benimaru knew it. Why he still chose to ignore most advice was beyond you.
Together, you gazed at the horizon, at the constellations igniting the midnight sky as if choreographed upon the celestial stage, at the clouds passing by and the pretty pond that mirrored it.
Asakusa was the best spot to stargaze.
The silence between you was comfortable but you couldn’t hide that it was starting to grate your nerves. Still, you waited for his move as you stared at him, wordlessly pressing him to ask the question he was itching to ask and you to answer. Dancing to his tempo was as tiring as it was hard. Benimaru liked a slow burn but he would get impatient, caught in the fragile web you were tirelessly working on to capture him.
“What do you want?”
You licked your lips, raising up to sit. Finally, you inwardly sighed, you would get to the main course. “You’re as tough as you’re dense, aren’t you? I’m here for you.”
He sipped on the tea a bit more, mulling on your words before exhaling, putting his elbows on his knees. “I had a feeling it was about that. I don’t have time for a relationship.”
Always straight to the point. Blunt to the point of rudeness.
You blinked, smiling wryly to yourself. It wasn’t what you were asking for. “I don’t either. I want to resolve the tension between us.”
Benimaru Shinmon, as cute as he could be once drunk, was a menace to both your blood pressure and your sanity. Taking him as a lover required an investment you didn’t have time to give.
Though, if he was a good lay, you wouldn’t mind going back to him for another night rendez-vous.
“You want to fuck me.”
He was staring you down, tone as bored and gruff as ever, but there was something else in his eyes, something that sparked your interest. He was intrigued, almost surprised.
You pinched your lips and checked that your hairstyle hadn’t loosened. “Crudely said-” Once sure everything was in place, you leaned against Benimaru’s side and pushed your chest out so one breast was brushing against his arm. You rose to whisper in his ear. “-but yes, if you want me to.”
Your hand ghosted over his hair, dancing over his shoulder. He was still processing your words. So, you took the time to carefully lower your hand toward the fair expanse of skin his kimono was showing, freezing and almost recoiling when he answered you.
“What’s in it for me?” He pierced you with a side-eyed glance before tilting his head while stroking his chin.
You tilted back in your surprise, catching yourself with a hand before you watched him dumbfounded. The warmth you were feeling was nothing short of scorching. It was a fierce flame of embarrassment that ignited your guts, pumped your heart and colored your cheeks.
“I- What?” You scoffed. Did he just… ? Rude much, isn’t he? “You know you could have said no, you dumb idio-”
With a swift movement, he grabbed your wrist and pulled. You jerked forward and, unable to stop your momentum, you crashed in his chest, half-sprawled on his legs. His arms then wrapped around your hips and your back to keep you in place.
“Is that why you are so insufferable lately?” His voice deepened as he spoke in your ear, mocking you while embracing you like a lover. “Annoying me on purpose, showing off more skin than you need to. Because you want to get laid? Because you crave my dick?”
Your mouth fell open, at loss for word after the whiplash he gave you but you couldn’t deny it was turning you on.
“I don’t-” Your attempt to defend yourself was thwarted by the sting of his hand meeting your rear. He spanked you.
He spanked you.
You gasped, a moan dying in your throat. Your body felt hot, both with want and embarrassment, as your panties stuck to your folds like a second skin. His mouth found the shell of your ear and licked it. “Keep spewing lies with that mouth and I will keep it occupied.”
His sentence ended in a growl that did wonders to your body. You were unaware Benimaru could make that kind of noise. And now, you wanted to know what other sounds he could make.
“I’m pretty sure spanking requires the consent of both parties.”
He cocked his brows, disbelief coloring his pretty eyes. His arms flexed, accommodating you better in his embrace and you could feel the way his muscles worked, sliding around your body even through the layers you were wearing. “Uh? You don’t?”
“I didn’t say that.” You answered so fast it surprised you and with just enough worry to make his lips wobbled.
You took in a calming breath, keeping your heart under control. It had the unfortunate quirk of growing bolder and wilder in the presence of Benimaru, sending too much blood into your cheeks and making you act like a schoolgirl with her first crush.
“Good.” With his hand buried in your hair, he angled your face and dived in the sea of trouble you were. First, slow and uncertain, discovering how much you could handle. With his lips, he absorbed the heaviness of your soul and the beauty of you and your world, replacing it with the fierceness of his passion.
As much as you played with it, you never knew kissing fire felt so good. It was overpowering, tingling tongue and the aftertaste of fire smoke, scorching heat running within your veins and strong hands helping you straddle his legs.
His hand ran up your spine, grabbing your shoulder to bring you impossibly close. His nails dug in your skin.
Unlike him, a tower of strength, unmovable and unyielding, you were a more restless lover. Touching him with the delicacy of an angel but the taste of the devil, you were far more intoxicating than he expected. Your hands had a mind of their own. Something you were thankful for as your head was spinning under his attack, heart thundering a heavy staccato while exploring and tugging at him, his hair and his clothes. His remained curled around your shoulder and hair.
One moment, your hands were buried in his hair, appreciating the soft but wiry strands while your nails scratched his scalp, tugging on it until you swallowed his surprised moan and the next you were shamelessly groping him, his biceps, his back, feeling the way his muscles moved to accommodate your weight.
You exhaled, biting on his lower lip as you broke the kiss. You breathed the same air, foreheads touching while half-lidded eyes gazed within the other’s soul. With a small mischievous smile curling your reddening lips, you tugged on his hair once more to hear again the delicious sound.
His throaty noise slipped into your skin to reverberate again and again on your nerves, sending jolts of electricity straight to your navel to turn up the intensity of your desire.
“You do like it rough too.” There was laughter behind your words, a mocking tone that the man didn’t like.
He pushed you off him. You collapsed on your back, eyes wide and mouth opened before bursting into a shoulders-shaking, tears-brimming, belly laughter at his childish face. In your giggles, you missed the softening of his expression as he waited for your laugh to end.
He cupped your warm cheeks, drying your tears. Warmth bloomed in your chest. Not the blistering heat of desire but the soothingly sweet burn of affection. It was the kind of warmth that told you that while you weren’t in love with Benimaru, you could be. You could see yourself fall in love with the man and all the troubles he would bring you.
“You look like a maiden,” he laughed at his remark. You were glad he found himself to be funny. You didn’t, “the opposite of what you are.”
You bit the hand cradling your cheek, taking his thumb in your mouth. You sucked on it, tongue swirling around his callus and enjoying the half-lidded stare gazing at you over the beginning of a blush and opened lips. He enjoyed your ministration so much he presented his index and middle finger.
You took them in, letting him pet your tongue before he ventured farther than you were used to. “Vixen.”
You gagged, breathed deeply before gently sucking, giving Benimaru your most innocent, teary eyes.
He sighed, a pool of dark swirling in his eyes as he smirked. Above you, with his kimono loose, a dark look on his face, and with the lantern shining behind his head, a crooked halo, he looked like the most dangerous being. A fallen god.
His fingers slipped out of your mouth. Your lips curled up.
“Silly, it’s because it’s tailored to be a priestess garb.” The mocking was still present in your tone and he wished to kiss your breath away. “For tonight only, I can be your high priestess and you can be my… Sol?”
You observed his face, the way his mouth curled oh so slightly down and his eyebrows shook. He didn’t like that. You raised both legs to caress his thighs before locking your ankles behind his knees. You slowly sat up until your breaths mingled, until your noses touched, lips hovering over his, until you could see the faint glow of his eyes. You smiled as his breath ever so slightly hitched and his gaze hooded. “No. My god of destruction.”
His eyes creased. The vixen knew how to stroke his ego.
“Then, I will conquer you like one.” He said as he grabbed both ankles, shoving them up. You yelped. The sudden force had your balance thrown off and you rolled on your back. He locked you down there, hovering with a warm hand wrapped around your sternum.
Benimaru shifted, slightly pressing down on your stomach to settle close between your spread legs. His other hand nestled in your hair, removing your hairpins with an ease that bespoke of the twins’ influence.
Your eyes closed as he slowly combed it free of knots before coiling strands into tight ringlets around his fingers. Yanking on them, he inclined your face so you could see the swirl of darkness within his eyes. He dived for an open-mouthed kiss. You were strangely pliant to his whims, half-lidded eyes and that damn smirk he wanted to bruise. With his lips or his fists, it didn’t matter, as long as they were coated in red.
His tongue invaded your mouth, roaming over every nook and cranny like a conqueror in the promised land. You had half a mind to bite on it, to take back the control he appropriated himself, to act on your fantasies. But you waited, listening to the dark part of your mind whispering to let him learn your body, delving in the pleasure of ruling over you before snatching it back.
Benimaru pressed kisses to the expanse of your neck, trailed his mouth down to your collarbones and sucked a bruise into the skin at the base of your throat- and when you reacted to him, when you inhaled sharply and choke on his name, he hummed his pleasure against your skin, the sound vibrating and low. Like a maestro, he had you singing under his relentless attack.
The wet smack of his mouth roaming your neck, gliding lower towards your chest only made you squirm beneath him. He growled under his breath, tugging on your belt to loosen your hakama before his rough hand slipped under your upper garment and he relished in the sight of your breasts. The work of his lips in tandem with his hand left a searing trail of heat in its wake. He would linger on places otherwise hidden from view and suck on your skin; branding you as a tainted war conquest. As his victim.
His rough hand scratched deliciously your skin, raising goosebumps while it made its way to your breast, first, simply grabbing and letting his warmth sweep within your body, appreciating the weight as his teeth bit into the skin just above your heart. You purred for him, grabbing the back of his neck to leave the scorching trail of your nails on his shoulders.
An eye for an eye. A mark for a mark.
He caught your nipple, caressing it then rolling it between his fingers to pinch it. You yelped, almost hitting him. You settled for crossing your ankles behind his hips and bringing him closer until his warmth sweeped in you, until your chests were pressed flushed, until your cunt could rock against his cock.
He growled and tutted his dissatisfaction at being interrupted in his work, biting your collarbone before awkwardly bending you backward so he could still play with your chest. You tried to rebel against him but his hand pressing your shoulders against the ground was far stronger than your abs.
You huffed and puffed and whined at the frustration of being denied, tugging on his hair to express your displeasure but it only brought more pinching and biting. You didn’t miss his sinister smile moving against your skin-
“Conquered can only beg for mercy.” He rasped out.
Your mouth fell open.
The audacity.
Did he think you were conquered? Did he think he broke you, that he was so good and strong and you could only yield to him? Did he think that the burning in your groin would make you forget yourself?
Mightiest fire soldier or not, you weren’t one to go down without a fight.
In your current state, you wouldn’t be able to overpower him. Too strong and too aroused to think, you could, however, make him yield first.
Your hand went to his kimono, ripping the belt off first and trailing your nails along his abs before pinching his nipple like he did to you. He growled his displeasure, grabbing your hand to pin it above your head while you let a victorious ‘ah’ out. The meaning, a strong ‘See how it’s not fun?’, wasn’t lost to him.
When your other hand picked up where you left, he changed his tactic, going for the throat and you found yourself seeing stars under the pressure. White spots danced in your vision before he released his grip, popping your abused nipple in his mouth.
His touches were abrasive but you lived for the hell he was throwing you into.
You felt a tug on your belt, the drag of hot fingers on an equally hot body going down and down and down until they passed your hips bones, until they caressed the top of your panties, toying with the hem before continuing to cup your aching sex.
You inhaled sharply, appreciating the way he rubbed you through the clothes. You followed the movement, shaking your hips wantonly and in a burst of passion, you kissed him, teeth clashing and sloppy, tongue caressing and noses squashed. You kissed him with more tongue and teeth than lips, overcomed by a passion borderline destructive that sank into your marrow and seeped into your every cell.
You tried to reciprocate the gesture, yanking on his own belt but he slapped your hand away. You snarled. He growled. You whined. You settled for rubbing him through the fabric. He sent you a glare but didn’t stop you, even pressing into your hand, rocking his hips for greater pleasure.
His fingers pushed against your slit and you curled your toes, grabbing the hand wrapped around your throat to ground yourself. You moaned, shaking in his hold. Truthfully, you were barely holding on to your ribbon of sanity, especially when he was working so well to snap it.
Benimaru, still inside your pants, grabbed your pretty expensive panties, peeling them away from your fold to-
Your eyes went as big as saucers. A wave of indignation and, unfortunately, arousal rose within you. You froze, still unable to understand that Benimaru Shinmon, Captain of the 7th Company, burned your underwear inside your pants.
You opened your mouth and closed it, plenty of words on your tongue but none got out. You stared at the man in utter indignation.
He laughed, dark and deep, right next to your ear. “You’re so drenched I almost couldn’t light them on fire.”
“You bastard- Oh fuck!” You choked on your words, covering your mouth to swallow the obscenities from the aching pleasure the two digits he pushed deep within procured you. Your legs shook, closing around his hand to keep them inside while you rubbed his dick through his pants with a bit more fervor.
He had magic fingers, teasing the embers of your desire until it turned into a blazing inferno threatening to consume your sanity entirely. In a desperate attempt to ground yourself, you latched yourself to his lips, drinking in him like he was your oxygen.
Under the night sky, you burned brighter than any star and your face, the hint of defiance in your eyes and your feeble attempts at pleasuring him wrested a grunt from his chest. His patience was thinning by the second. His movements, the slaps of his palm on your clit, the stretching of your walls and the stinging of his bites, spoke of his desperation to take you.
And when his patience finally snapped and when he separated from you to take in a long breath and when he threw his happi away, taking his belt of and finally revealing his erection to you-
You smiled, coy and oh so sinister.
You had half a mind to let him take you, to extinguish that fire in your womb but the part of you that waited with bated breath for a mistake wouldn't let you.
You watched as he sat on his heels, fumbling around with your pants and when he finally revealed your soaked cunt, the burned panties still around your hips and when he reached for your thighs, to grasp them and open them-
You acted.
Two fire threads caught his wrists, pushing him back to the wooden beam.
“Wha- ?” He watched his wrists and the glowing red ribbons tightly bond to them before sending you a glare. His first reaction was to disperse the fire but your threads weren’t something he could dispel nor break through sheer strength. Above a certain temperature, they could be burned, though. “What is this?”
Payback~ You took your time, raising on your elbows, shaking off your haori - which fell off the patio - and watched the sight Benimaru was offering you.
He stared at you, and he really looked good - lips swollen and red, hair disheveled and down, and face lightened by the ethereal glow of the moon and the warmth of the lanterns. His eyes glowed with the restlessness of a caged beast.
Benimaru was all slender and muscular, and you were drinking in this sight like a woman lost in the desert. His cock, angry and red and pearling with precum, stood erected against his abs, just above the hair that started under his navel and led to his crown.
On your four, you drew closer to him, watching the storm brewing in his eyes. It procured you such pleasure and pride, such craving. You wished to be filled as soon as possible and, your eyes lingered on his cock, that was why you wouldn’t lose much time sucking such a handsome part of him.
“Oi, I asked something.”
You ignored him, licking your lips. Your hands glided over his thighs and you dove for a taste.
He didn’t taste divine like people would say when talking about their partner, neither sweet nor salty. You couldn’t really define the taste but you didn’t hate it. The same could be said about his scent.
His scent was characteristic to him, strong enough that you would be able to identify his clothes in a pile. Neither pleasant nor unpleasant, a light scent of ashes would linger in your nose.
It smelled and tasted like Benimaru.
Benimaru watched your back arching, the curve of your spine leading to your fancy little butt. One he wanted to grab and squeeze and watched as it wobbled with every snap of his hips. One he wouldn’t mind turning red and blue. One he would even bite.
He watched, enjoyed the sight and groaned pitifully, tugging on his restraints. Truthfully, if he wasn’t already so out of his mind with want and if a part of him wasn’t willing to indulge you, he would have burned the things off to have his way with that sweet cunt of yours. But right now, he couldn’t be trusted with not burning the whole brigade to pounce on you.
Your tongue swirled around his head, adding spit to precum, and Benimaru groaned a wretched sound. You sucked just a bit, moving away as the captain thrusted up. You licked your way back up, his belly button, his abs, between his pecs and on his jugular. At last, you kissed his chin and answered: “Isn’t it a priest’s duty to serve her god?”
You placed yourself above him. Having him between your legs sure looked like a challenge. But you weren’t going to let it phase you.
“Is it your way of telling me you’re in charge?” He said and somehow, he managed to rearrange his features into his usual, unbothered self.
His breathing hitched as you rubbed yourself against his head, adding your slick to the sticky mess his cock has become. You arched your back, throwing your head back and moaning as his cock nudged your clit, shaking your hips to reproduce that sensation. Benimaru used your bliss to nip at your throat. Drawing out both your and his patience, you teased his tip with your cunt again and again until you really couldn’t wait anymore.
“Would you like to object?” You panted, guiding his shaft to your entrance.
You slid slightly down, enough to open yourself on him and tease without bringing that fullness you were craving. Building the anticipation led to a better orgasm and you intended to make your only shot at fucking Benimaru magical.
He squinted his eyes, full of annoyance and arousal. You could see his thoughts swirling, no doubt plotting to overthrow your rule but you would meet him head-on.
“Don’t falter.” He growled with the undertone of a threat. Shivers ran down your spine. His eyes were telling a different story that you could resume to: don’t leave him an opening or he would ravage you. “And do all the work.”
You leaned down to kiss him, soft and sweet at first but as you eased yourself down, gently, slowly, your teeth clashed and your tongues danced. You lost yourself in him, in his scent, in his taste and in the feeling of being so full and stretched. You didn’t even take all of him in, already feeling too full.
Benimaru gasped. The sound was quiet like wrenched from him against his will as his eyes fluttered shut and jaw went slack. He savored the feeling, the warmth, the wetness, and the tightness. You were fucking perfect for him, a tight fit he wouldn’t admit out loud.
Your eyes flickered over him, enticingly bare beneath you- his chest was muscular and his shoulders were broad and sturdy and his eyes when you finally met his gaze were hot and piercing.
And then you grinded down and Benimaru thrusted his hips up just a little, like he couldn’t help himself, and you answered with a shallow moan because the angle was good and the friction was good and you felt like you were getting lost in it.
Your hips rose and fell in a graceful motion like a rolling wave, slick and sliding. You wallowed in the stretch, in the tender feeling of his cock buried deep within you, with fluttering lashes and slacked jaw.
He huffed out a strangled moan after just a few thrusts and you pushed your chest in his face, arching your back due to the searing pleasure electrocuting your brain. He quickly found a better use of his mouth along your chest, devouring the soft flesh with motive.
When after a few other thrusts, you failed to take him entirely, he let go of your nipple with a wet pop. “You’re missing a bit.”
Your head fell on his shoulders, gripping and raking them hard as you panted. You watched pearls of sweat running down his abs to his pelvis, directing your gaze slightly below to the lewd sight the jointure of your bodies offered you. The crown of pubic hair was glistening with sweat, slick and saliva. The lewd noise fleeting from the both of you invaded the thin silence. Skin against skin, voice lost in lust.
"I know you can take all of me, pretty."
You shivered and furrowed your brows in concentration. Thinking and speaking was turning out to be harder than you expected. “I- I need a bit of time for tha-”
Your sentence ended in a choke, head throwing back as his tip brushed against that spot. Benimaru watched your eyebrows curve and your mouth fall open in adoration. He observed the petulance growing in your eyes while you failed to reproduce the movement. Then, his eyes went to your fire threads, to their ever dimming light and he knew you would break soon.
Your rule would soon come to an end. A sort of groan, the whisper of your name in your ear that sent shivers down your spine.
It was fascinating, the sound you both made once all pretenses of being anything but sinners were thrown away, equal parts thrilling and terrifying and utterly shameless. You cried out, not caring about your voice and who would hear you. His mouth ascended on yours, silencing you.
Your thighs were burning. Your breathing was erratic. The sweet ache of your release was building, promising toes-curling pleasure but alas you were unable to tip over. The gates of heaven, so close and yet you could barely brush them.
You whined and huffed and-
Two warm hands caught each of your wrists, pulling them above your head while his cock slipped out of you. You spluttered when the realization that you lost your concentration hit you like a matoï on fire. Your threads dissipated. You’ve released the beast.
His smile was mean and promised nothing good for your pride would come out of your mistake.
He, then, grabbed both wrists into one hand, placing the other on your hips.
“Slowing down already?” His grip on your hips was as painful as his voice was strained. His nails threatened to break your skin. You knew it was going to leave marks. “But you wanted that control. Can’t handle it?”
He spanked you, hard, and silenced your cries with his mouth, biting and devouring your mouth until you were lightheaded. And it continued again and again until he was satisfied with the face you were making, throwing a look down to appreciate the color of your ass. Red like his eyes.
Then, Benimaru straightened his position up and with you still balanced on his lap, the sudden change had you tilting backward with wide eyes. You opened your mouth to gasp and the Captain followed your movement.
He had the delicacy to cup your head to stop yourself from cracking it on the wooden floor. He boxed you in perfectly, separating you from the world until he became your everything, until all you could see, think and breathe was him, his glowing eyes and his smirk.
“Control doesn’t suit everyone.” He whispered against your lips, a very faint laugh fanning your lips.
His iron-clad grip reached for your hips, pulling them back up to his hips and throwing your knees to your chest. You gasped and babbled for him to not do what his eyes clearly told you he was going to do. “Wait, Beni. I can’t- ”
He sheathed him in one sharp thrust, going down to the hilt. You felt impossibly full and stretched. The base of his cock, thicker than the length, had your head spinning, eyes rolling back in their orbits with both pleasure and pain.
That man was taking the saying ‘rearrange my guts’ too literally but you weren’t complaining. You couldn’t, you were too preoccupied breathing and babbling nonsense.
Benimaru smiled, and if you weren’t so lost in the sauce, you would have realized that he smiled so much more once balls deep inside you. As if you were his own brand of sake. Exhilarating. Intoxicating.
“See?” His voice had a sweet rumble that spread through your veins, “No need to whine. I told you you could take all of me.”
You purred something for the sake of answering.
With that said, his hands steadied your hips, roughly pulling down onto a sharp thrust. He did it again, and again, pounding in your abused hole with a feral pace, and the harsh sting between each thrust was going to hurt even more tomorrow. But it didn’t matter, you already knew you would be more red and blue than your natural color. What was a bruise or two in the grand scheme of things if you could reach orgasm?
Benimaru was close to his own bliss and nothing was in his way of reaching it.
The friction of his pubic hair on your clit, his pace and the angle of his thrusts, it was all too much. Your steady release grew back in your lower stomach, feverishly pulsating in a way no other man had ever done to you. Nothing could describe the pleasure that wrangled your body other than twisted euphoria. The increasing aria of moans you sang, an omen to your impending fall. With a last thrust, you exploded, face twisted by your sudden enlightenment, body arching before slumping back on the ground -hot, tired and utterly satisfied. You even inched away from his thrusts.
But he didn’t stop, grabbing your hips back to him. In fact…
He moved at a frantic pace, one that had you gasping in mild discomfort and clutching above your head for something to ground you.
The first few thrusts were uncomfortable, it felt too raw, too sensitive. He was fucking you through the aftershocks. He kept going until you were shaking and pulsating, kissing and biting the calves thrown over his shoulders. “Come on, you can give me another.”
You felt too hot, too bare and too fragile, overwhelmed and sobbing, unaware that your tears combined with your dazed glare was utterly desirable to him. So helpless and needy, it was exactly how he wanted you, how he imagined you during the darkest hour of his lonely nights.
The slide of unyielding hardness against your inner walls and-
You gasped, back arching as he hit the right spot. He smirked and the smugness in his eyes was almost too much but you met his hips, one leg falling from his shoulder and his face twisted and-
“Faster!” You ordered, one hand seeking refuge in his hair while you bunched your nails in his buttcheek. He groaned, a wrecked sound of pleasure but did as you said.
Your release was coming too fast and promised violent pleasure. He was bringing you to new heights never reached before and the fall vowed to be as brutal as the flight but you kept going, ready to take the hit head-on.
You came first, back-arching, pressing him closer to you and eyes unseeing before going boneless.
Benimaru pressed into you once, twice, before he released a low growl that was the sexiest sound you had ever heard and came inside you, body shuddering.
You sighed, the sound breathless and painfully soft, like you had been waiting too long and too much and had finally entirely given in.
You were a puddle of smug satisfaction muddled in your pleasure and heavy eyelids that begged to be closed.
You should have done that sooner.
He went to pull out but you shakily stopped him, begging him to have mercy and wait a little bit longer. You had yet to touch the ground. He heaved a satisfied sigh, pushing your other leg away before softly pecking your lips, holding you close.
He pushed you far beyond your limit. He would soothe you back together.
His embrace belonged more to a lover than a fuck buddy but it wasn’t something you would talk about. He cradled the back of your head, bringing you closer to his neck, and rolled on his side. Once he placed you the way he wanted, he planted a kiss on your damp hair and-
“Good girl,” his praise was rough and almost timid, as if he wasn’t used to saying it, “You did well.”
You soaked in his praise like a sponge, absorbing the validation like water in the desert, and in your state, you thought that if Benimaru was praising you then it was the truth. The man was honest to a fault. Your walls quivered and Benimaru groaned. “You should stop doing that if you know what’s good for you. I can take you a second time.”
You whimpered your disagreement, a tinge of fear on your face. His eyes creased with mirth, inwardly laughing at your state. Benimaru only knew how to wreak havoc and he certainly wrecked you. You, usually so proud, strong and independent, reduced to a fawn in his arms. His face was dripping with smug satisfaction.
The night was hot and intense but worn fingertips danced over your back, feather-light touches that only brought you into the world of dreams faster.
If only you could stay like that for-
“Oi, don’t fall asleep on me.” You moaned your unhappiness at being disturbed, trying to burrow yourself deeper in his arms but he kept shaking you awake. “We can’t stay here, we’re lucky no one interrupted us.”
Your tongue was heavy and your throat was raw but you still willed them to move. “I would have been more surprised if they interrupted us. We were anything but quiet.”
Benimaru shook you off his arm, ignoring your unhappy noises and the movement lodged his dick slightly deeper. You shivered at that. “Hina and Hika are still roaming around. The others should be at the bar.”
“Ah. The tiny gangsters.”
He clicked his tongue and moved away and out of you. You whined at the absence, not sure you were ready to have him out of you yet. “Oi.” There was a warning, one that told you he would fight you over his girls.
You snorted and jabbed a finger in his chest. Perhaps it was your fearlessness talking but you couldn’t find him intimidating, not when he was previously balls deep in you, making the most sinful noises you were blessed to hear. “It’s the truth and you can’t deny it.”
And because he couldn’t deny it, he chose to ignore it entirely. “Come on, you can stay in my room.”
How he managed to move, let alone put on his clothes was beyond you. You pouted as he put on his happi, hiding the streaked back you gave him - the trails of your nails went down to his ass and damn, weren’t you proud of yourself.
“Good because I don’t think I could have gone back home.” A grimace tore your face as you tried to massage the numbness out of your lower half. You’ve said ‘break my back like a glowstick’ before but now that it had happened, you weren’t sure you would repeat it again. It hurt and burned like hellfire. “I’m not even sure I can walk, to be fair.”
You observed him freeze in the doorway, already ready to leave the altar of your sins. You saw him considering the pros and cons of leaving you behind, of washing his hands off of you and leaving you to fend for yourself. He might be the reason for your soreness but you were the reason all of this happened. (Not that he complained.)
Indignation shot through you and you hissed: “Don’t leave me there.”
He sighed, closing his eyes before coming back to collect you, draping your haori over your naked form and whatever else he could find. “That’s what you get for teasing me.”
He rose up to his feet, you in his arms as if you weighed nothing.
“We should stop by the entrance to get my bag, and the bathroom. Actually, the bathroom should be the first stop. I’m covered in your spit and sweat and your semen is trickling down my thighs. Also, the floor needs to be washed-”
He cut you off with a kiss. “I get it. It can wait tomorrow.”
The door leading to the guardhouse closed behind you, your indignation and your sore pride.
summary: a halloween movie marathon doesn’t go as according to plan, but you don’t complain about how konro makes up for it
words: 2.9k
warnings: no spoilers for any season, 18+, smut, age-gap
← day 14 | knife play | gojo satoru day 16 | non-con | ryomen sukuna →
Konro was the sweetest man you’d ever met. He was polite, caring and protective of his small family.
But most of all, he was a deviant - when you tired to bring it up to Benimaru he’s simply dismissed your claims that the other man was sending you glances.
He claimed that Konro was ‘Too gentle’ to be having any sexual thoughts.
That didn’t help explain why you’d continuously catch him looking at your ass if you bent over, to the point where you could tell he was staring at your behind without looking to check.
Aizawa is addicted to making you cum. Sometimes he wakes up so riled up from you softly sighing and nuzzling into him all night, from being tense and pent up all week, that he starts to finger you first thing. You might try and push him off, laughing, saying that you're not even awake yet, but he'll just mouth at your neck while his long fingers spread you open and coax sweet, soft arousal from you. He makes you cum once on his fingers and then again on his cock, bucking into you slowly, dragging it out. You're more than ready for breakfast after that, and while you brew coffee and he makes food he keeps coming up to you to stand behind you, grope at your ass and tits, kissing your exposed shoulders. You realize that it's gonna be one of those days and make a bigger pot of coffee. He tugs you back into the bedroom after you spend half an hour with your plants, pets and whatnot, and locks the door. He fucks you rough this time, pinning your wrists above your head and watching your tits bounce, telling you how sexy and juicy your body is, how much he wants to never let go of your plush softness, how much he wants to bury his cock in you every moment of every day. He edges himself for what feels like two hours, moaning that he doesn't want it to end, wants more. He makes you orgasm around him by rubbing at your clit while he pounds into you, and the feeling of you squeezing around him, your moans and whimpers, your strangled "Ah...S-Shou!" makes him see stars. His balls tighten up and he can't take it. When he finally cums inside you, your pussy quivering around him from the pretty pretty moans he grants you, he just keeps going. His stamina is insane and you're delirious. He fucks his cum deeper inside you and this time goes slow, almost lazy. He lies on top of you, his tongue in your mouth, panting, praising you. You're my good girl, so sweet for me, so tight. I've been fucking you for hours and you're still fluttering around me. Are you that needy for me? Say it, kitten, say you're desperate for me.. You cum around him with a gentle mewl and a rolling, languid shaking. There's not much energy left in you and your pussy is a little numb from the friction, but you still want him. You still get wetter and wetter when he groans or rolls his eyes. Aizawa is tired too, but he wants to see you cum again. Just one more time, for him, please. He knows you can. You're almost crying from overstimulation, your pussy raw and puffy. He gets comfortable between your legs and latches onto your clit, sucking it so gently that you cum easily and tears spill out. You're still shaking and moaning when he crawls back up your body for a kiss. You beg him to stop now, you need rest. He promises you can have anything you want for cumming so pretty for him - his dick twitched and swelled from your sounds and taste. You're hungry, so he orders food and you cuddle while it arrives. After you both eat and rest a bit he might just get another couple orgasms out of you. He knows you can do it for him.
can i request arranged marriage with toji and corruption please 🥰
wedding rings - toji x fem!reader (5k)
the zenin clan just can't stop meddling in toji's affairs. what's he supposed to do with the nervous little virgin who shows up on his doorstep and says that her family and his have said they have to get married? not fuck her?
warnings: not sfw/minors dni. arranged marriage. corruption kink. virgin reader. light cunnilingus, fingering, coming inside. light dub-con by nature of 'arranged marriage'. afab reader, fem pronouns.
[a/n: writing toji is always so much fun ;_; ]
When you showed up at Toji’s door with suitcase in hand, trembling lip and eyes all wide and frightened, he had laughed outright.
It was just like the fucking Zenin clan to be meddling in his life even now, wasn’t it? Even though Toji has abandoned them and slaughtered their ilk, their bullshit about bloodlines still leaks into every facet of what they do; and clearly the idea that Toji, even with his flawed lack of cursed energy, might be able to pass on the technique and hasn’t got a pretty little wife to impregnate yet had rankled them so badly that they’d sorted the whole situation out for him.
If he didn’t hate jujutsu society so much, he’d almost feel bad for you.
You’re clearly in the bloom of life; fresh-faced and innocent, not expecting to find yourself in Toji’s messy shithole of an apartment (why bother making it nice, when he spends so long out of it for work?). He wonders who you’ve pissed off to end up here.
As it turns out, you end up telling him yourself, a frown on your face.
Turns out, you’re . . . not quite just like him, but you’ve been fucked over by your clan just as much for not being able to be useful. You can see cursed spirits, but you’ve got no cursed energy, no technique – despite your clan usually producing good, dutiful, powerful wives. Disappointment of the family. He can understand what that feels like.
So they were probably glad to get rid of you. Might even hope you’ll bear Toji’s kid and it’ll have no technique to speak of itself, too – so both families can forget about you.
(Well, Toji thinks to himself with a grin – his family can’t forget about him, much as they want to, considering both his nickname and his line of work.)
He takes a sip of the glass of water he’s holding in his hand, green eyes focused very hard on you. You’re not in traditional clothing, like most clan members he knows would be; you’re wearing a pale blue dress that you keep tugging uncomfortably down over your thighs. Toji lets his eyes linger on your thighs, too – he might as well appreciate the view, he supposes.
Your suitcase is full of, as well as a collection of clothes in modest cut and soft, pastel colours, documents. Toji flips through some of them, nose wrinkling at the boring jargon. He does linger on a caveat about if you bear him children, they all have to take the Zenin name, and Toji and you will be ‘compensated handsomely’ for handing over the kid’s education and raising to the clan--
Bullshit.
Toji’s about to crumple them up on the floor and tell you to get the fuck out of his house, when he catches sight of you over the edge of the paper. You’ve drawn yourself in; shoulders tight, pretty mouth pressed into a tight line, eyes shining with a mixture between hope and fear. You look so lost. You look so innocent.
A little curl of heat makes itself known in the very base of Toji’s stomach; the thought of you being a good little wife, on your knees. The thought of him telling you exactly how to suck his cock.
He knows how the sorcerer clans raise women like you.
He knows you’ll be eager to please and obedient, falling over yourself to keep your man happy. He knows, too, that you’ll be pliant and agreeable – and that you’ll be pure as the driven snow. That thought gives him pause.
You’re seductive to him without realising it, in the totally guileless way you act, as if you don’t know that he’s considering how your tits would fill his hands and how tight your precious, untouched cunt would feel around his girth.
If he rejects you, what will your clan do?
You’re as fucked as him. He can see it in the shine of your eyes in his kitchen; you’re afraid he will throw you out, like he was thinking of. Leave you to fend for yourself on the streets of Japan, because there’s no way your family will want you back after even scum like Toji’s rejected you.
Would it be so bad?
He lets himself look at you critically. He takes in the curves, the dips, the contours of your body; the way you’d feel beneath him. Your face, and what it would look like lost in pleasure.
Perhaps it would be pleasant, to have someone to return to after a hit; to have someone warm his bed, curl around him, cook for him and take care of him. Perhaps it would be pleasant to take a pretty little virgin and break her into exactly what he wants in a woman. To teach her how he likes to fuck, how he likes her to act, to condition her until he can crook his finger at her and she’s bending over, presenting herself already slick and needy for his cock to use however he sees fit.
“Alright,” he says, draining the glass. “Sure, sweetheart. We’ll get married.”
Later on that night, he creeps into the spare room. You’re asleep on top of the covers in a cute pyjama set that’s all frills and froth and pale pink; elastic in the shorts digging into the flesh of your thighs, top clinging to the curve of your chest. His cock stirs in his pants looking at you. You’re so . . . innocent. There’s no mark to you; Toji wants to cling to your hips until there are bruises in the shape of his hands, wants to worry love-bites into your neck like a necklace, wants to ruin you until you’re tear-stained and whimpering and arching your hips up for him--
Calloused fingers trail along your skin. You’re so soft. Where Toji is all scars and muscle, your skin is like satin. You moan in your sleep, pretty face furrowing, and Toji wants to see your face creased in pleasure too. Your mouth drops open and he imagines thrusting his cock in it; how pretty and shiny your lips would look wrapped around his shaft, almost too big for you to even take.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, thumb skimming the exposed stomach where your pyjama top has ridden up. “Ripe for the picking, ain’t ya?”
Your eyes twitch. Eyebrows, furrow – and you blink your gaze awake, sticky-slow, to see your fiancee looming over you in the dark.
“What’re you—?” You ask, still sleep-laced, but Toji just makes a soft noise in the back of his throat.
“Just lookin’ at the merchandise, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “Wanna make sure you ain’t damaged, that’s all--”
“I—I’m not!” The cute little burst of outrage is ruined somewhat by the yawn that you have to suppress in the middle of it, but Toji grins.
He didn’t think the Zenins would send you if you weren’t – they wouldn’t want to risk the precious possibility of a kid born with power and technique not really being one of theirs – but it’s nice to hear your mouth confirm what he’s been suspecting and hoping is the truth.
“Aw, baby girl,” he says, keeping his voice low and even, trying to comfort you even as his hand is sliding further up, cupping one of your breasts (his palm brushes your nipple and he feels it harden beneath his touch, stiffening to a peak – he wants to see what you look like under there so badly), “C’mon, it’s fine. I ain’t gonna hurt you--”
“M-Mr Zenin,” you say, and the tremble in your voice is so cute. His cock is straining against the boxer shorts he wore to sleep in. You’re wide awake now; your eyes meeting his. “I—I know, but--”
He’s on the bed. He doesn’t miss how your gaze strays to his veined forearms, where the muscles bulge in his biceps, the carefully sculpted and maintained abdomen and pecs – he sees the swallow in your throat, the way your cute little tongue reaches out to swipe nervously over your lower lip.
Thumb brushes your collarbone and you shudder, your eyes fluttering closed at the sensation. He sees your thighs twitch, squeeze together – he’s willing to bet if he dipped his fingers into your slit right now, he’d pull his digits back out with your slick glimmering on them.
“Just call me Toji.”
“T-Toji—” Your voice pitches, shuddering with arousal that you don’t know how to handle. He’s heard that note in women’s voice before; that desperate ‘I want to be touched, but I know I shouldn’t want it’ wobble. He’s been the cause of it more times than he can count.
“S’okay,” he soothes, his other hand rounding over your hip, his knees nudging your legs apart. “You’re savin’ yourself for marriage, yeah? We’ll get the papers signed in the mornin’, I promise, botha our families are the kind to make sure things can be rushed through quick--”
“I—” You’re a little breathless, all needy and hot under his touch. It’s adorable. “I shouldn’t, please, it’s only a few days--”
“You want to.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement, as he curls his fingers about your hip, as he settles his own muscular thighs between yours and he sees that there’s a damp spot on the pale pink shorts. Soaked through your underwear and your nightwear? He forgot how sensitive virgins can be. “Don’t lie to yourself, angel.”
He leans down, scarred lips brushing yours. You taste like his toothpaste; peppermint on his tongue as he swipes it over your lower lip and you sigh as you allow him entrance. It’s the first mark of him on you, but he knows it won’t be the last. He deliberately presses his knee against your clothed mount, grinding it just a little – and you whimper into his mouth, heated and desperate.
“We’ll be married soon as,” he murmurs to you, pulling back, looking at you with lust darkening his eyes. No man has ever looked at you quite as hungrily as Toji is looking at you right now. And he’s so handsome, his touches gentle-- “You wanna be a good girl for me, right? S’just what a wife does for her husband, yeah?”
“Yes,” you breathe, and Toji grins at you. It’s a feral, starving grin, that you feel deep inside of you as you clench around nothing and burn to be touched.
He kisses you again, hungrier. He nips at your lower lip, his tongue roughly demanding entrance – he dances against your own. You’ve never really understood the idea of kissing with tongues, but Toji knows exactly what he’s doing; hitting a spot on the roof of your mouth that makes you shudder and gasp, your hands coming up to grasp his biceps.
The muscle underneath them is so solid, and Toji can’t help but notice how soft your hands are on him. He knows you’ll be that soft everywhere else, and the thought spurs him on.
“I’m gonna undress you now,” he tells you, thick and throaty. His big fingers curve under the hem of the lacy top you’re wearing, gently tugging it up over your stomach and then your breasts. That sharp green gaze caresses every newly bared inch of you, a soft sigh escaping his lips. “Fuckin’ hell. You’re a sight for sore eyes, sweetheart.”
Your skin feels hot under the compliment, Toji’s flat palm sliding along the softness of your tummy to round over your breasts. Your nipples have pebbled and stiffened in the cool air of the spare room, and Toji flicks his thumb along one (making you shiver, again, he notices) before he bends his head to suckle the bud into his mouth, his tongue lapping at it in a way that has your back arching and thighs clenching.
He chuckles at the noise you make as his lips pop off, and he turns his attention to the other side.
“Responsive, ain’t ya?” He asks. “You’re adorable.”
You give him a trembling breath as a response, which he takes as a sign to begin a trail of wet, open mouthed kisses down from your breasts to your stomach, tongue tracing the shape of your navel, teeth grazing your hips so gently that you barely feel them. He takes the waistband of your shorts in his mouth and tugs those down using your teeth, and the vision of him between your legs like that--
“Ha,” he says, as his fingers reach to tug them, expertly manipulating your legs so he can get them off without moving from between them. “Careful there, darlin’. You’re gonna soak right through the sheets.”
His mouth, again – kissing firmly against the wet patch on your underwear, his breath fiery hot. His mouth is solid enough that you feel the jolt that goes through you as his nose pushes against your clit, even through the cotton. Toji almost smirks at how much of a cliché the white cotton underwear trimmed with pale pink lace is, but the scent of you is too heady for him to want to do anything but bury his head between your thighs.
Lower. He kisses all over your slit, hard enough that you jerk, ruing the barrier between you two. His thumb strokes circles into your inner thigh--
He seems content to kiss at you through the fabric – but really, he’s waiting for you to give in. To beg him to take them off. From just how wet his face is even with the barrier in his way, he doesn’t think it will be long – and you do not disappoint. You raise your whips, softly mewling;
“Please, I –”
“Please, what, darlin’?” He asks you. “C’mon, you can use your words – no secrets from your husband, right?”
“I—” You’re so cute, squirming and feeling like a slut for him. He loves it. He loves the tremble of your body and the fact that your eyes are glassy with need. “P-please take my underwear off, I wanna--” You swallow. “W-wanna feel without it--”
“Aww, y’should’ve just said so,” Toji says. Fingers pry beneath the gusset.
He doesn’t bother manipulating your body this time. He simply tugs hard enough to split the seams, the fabric delicate from being saturated in your slick.
(Doesn’t matter, anyway. While he’s home, you won’t be wearing underwear.)
You gasp at the display of strength, swallowing – and Toji grins at you again. Oh, you like that? He’s got more shows of strength where that came from, don’t you worry.
He props up your knees with his hands and says;
“Wrap your hands around these, keep your legs spread for me like a good girl, yeah?”
You nod, shyly averting your gaze as you do just that and the position spreads you open lewdly; your velvet-soft folds bared entirely to Toji’s hungry eyes.
You’re already absolutely dripping, but Toji can see that you’re nervous.
“Don’t worry,” he soothes you, again. He can’t help but notice how small you look; the pearl of your clit nestled between curling soft petals, your pulsing hole. He knows you’ll take him, but . . . fuck, he thinks you’ll be a stretch. Not that that’s a bad thing. “I’m gonna open you up, darlin’, alright?”
“Y-yeah,” your voice is tremulous, soft – and sends a throb right to his cock. It’s been straining against his boxer shorts since the moment he saw you, but your eyes all big and glossy with trust and the vulnerable position you’re in and the knowledge you have never been touched like this are really doing a number on it.
But fuck it, he’s not gonna hurt you more than he has to if he’s really going to keep you around. He gently spreads your plump labia lips even further apart with his fingers, so your clit stands swollen to attention. You shiver under his calloused fingers, as he leans in and a hot wash of breath fans over you.
Toji’s tongue darts out to lap a long, slow stripe from perineum to clit, and though he can’t see your face any more, he hears the way you whimper.
Another. He lets himself soak his face in your slick; lets his tongue get deep between your folds. You taste so good on his tongue; honey-sticky and sugar-sweet. The tip of the wet muscle gently flickers against your clit and your hands are suddenly wrapped in his hair, your chest heaving in sensitive gasps. You keep your legs raised, so he decides to be kind. He eases his lips off of you for a moment to mumble, amused;
“Don’t pull too hard, I’m too young to be losin’ my hair--”
Before he dives back in between your legs, once more licking and sucking at the tender flesh. Your stomach explodes in fireworks, your heart beating so fast you can hear it in your ears. Toji’s mouth and tongue against you is a wet, lascivious noise that at once makes your toes curl in pleasure and cringe in embarrassment. Is it awful and forward of you to be enjoying yourself like this? Your family have always drilled into you that a proper wife isn’t a slut, but still does what her husband wants--
Toji’s not your husband yet, but this is fine, right? To have him eating you out like you’re a desert oasis? His lips lock around your clit and he sucks and your vision whites out for a second, your hands tugging hard at the dark hair in your grip--
And he comes away with a light laugh that still manages to shiver with seduction. His face is shiny with you as he looks at you with eyes half-lidded and still hungry.
“What’d I say, huh?” He teases you. “Angel, I could have fucked you with my tongue all night--” He likes seeing how the crude words make you flinch, nervous but pleased but ashamed all warring within you. Your lips are pushed forward, the moue almost petulant. His voice drops a tone. “Don’t look at me with that cute pout. You don’t know what it does to me.”
If he didn’t still need to stretch you out using his fingers, he’d take a moment to kiss you so you could taste yourself and just how needy you’d been for him on his lips. But he’s still driving a hole through his boxers, so . . . the sooner you’re able to take him, the better.
You’ve gone back to holding your legs apart with your hands. Excellent.
Besides. He hadn’t finished what he was doing, and he thinks it’ll be easier to fuck you if you’ve already come once. Your poor, swollen clit hasn’t had all the attention it deserves. You’re being so cute, so well-behaved for him--
“Relax,” he says, softly, as he eases his fingers from spreading you open, dipping them in the mess he’s made of your slit. “This might sting a bit--”
One finger finds your hole; circles the sensitive entrance, making the muscles in your thighs tremble. But you keep your legs spread open for him like a good girl, and he’s able to gently push his index finger in, first to one knuckle, then to the second, and then to the ones at the base.
“Good girl,” he breathes, barely able to breathe at how tight you feel around him. Your insides are silky and hot and wet, clinging to him like a lifeboat in the sea. He pumps the lone finger in and out of you, rubbing the pad against the inside of your walls until he finds the spot that makes you throw your head back and give him a long, choked moan. “There we go,” he keeps talking to you, softly, like you’re a spooked animal. “’M gonna put the second one in, yeah? You’re takin’ it like a champ, sweetheart. You wanted this, huh?”
You babble something that he doesn’t care enough to listen to but overall sounds positive. This one’s a stretch, his middle finger and index finger even tighter. But he needs to get three in you, he thinks, or you’ll never take his cock. You let go of your thighs, and he sucks in a breath – but your feet clearly need purchase on the bed, your fingers twisting in bedsheets now they can’t twist in his hair, and you breathe through the stretch so he figures it’d be churlish to tell you off for it now.
He keeps hitting that spot as he fucks you slowly on his fingers, until he can feel your cunt sucking him in, pulsing around him.
“Third finger,” he tells you, his own throat dry. “Next time I fuck you with this one, you’ll feel my weddin’ ring--”
You tighten around the other two at that. Cute. Three fingers opening you wide, scissoring inside of you, aches – but you’re being so good for him, the most that’s coming out of your mouth sweet little whines. Toji rewards you by crooking them inside you against that spot, his thumb coming to gently rub circles into your swollen clit.
He’s been teasing you for too long, and you are a virgin – it’s no surprise that the stimulation proves too much for you too quickly, and you arch your back at the same time as fireworks go off inside of you, your cunt fluttering around his fingers, tightening and loosening as waves of euphoria wash over you.
You soak Toji’s fingers with the rush of your release; the gush of liquid.
He whistles, low and impressed. So you’re a squirter, huh? Toji doesn’t mind that at all. It’s not like he’ll be doing the laundry – and it’s kind of hot, to look down at you and see what a mess he’s made of your little virgin cunt--
“That’s it,” he says, guiding you over the last low crests of your orgasm. “I think y’can take me now, sweetheart. Let’s get you comfy--”
He shows off his strength a bit, because he knows it will get you going despite the sensitivity of your body from your recent orgasm. You’re man-handled by him higher on the bed, so your head is on the mountain of pillows you’ve slipped down. He can pick you up as if you weigh nothing at all, despite the creak of the bedsprings clearly saying the opposite.
Your legs are urged to wrap around his hips.
“Don’t worry,” he tells you, again. He doesn’t think he’s ever reassured a fuck as carefully and constantly as he’s reassuring you; but then again, he’s never intended to marry one of his fucks before.
You, though – you’re so adaptable. So untouched. So different from women and men who come onto him at bars and flutter eyelashes and make soft little insinuations. He can corrupt you into exactly what he wants, and the thought of you knowing nothing but his cock forever and serving him like he’s the only man in the world--
It’s enough to make a lesser man come in his pants.
“You’re tired, yeah? I’ll do most of the work. You lie there and take it like the sweetheart you are.”
He’s shucked his underwear off in the man-handling, and now he shifts so that you can see the full glory of what he’s packing. Your eyes widen.
He gets that a lot. Even for a virgin who’s probably never seen a cock before, it’s obvious that Toji’s the real deal – you swallow, nervous, and whisper;
“I—what if it doesn’t fit--?”
(There’s a tremble of fear in there, that you’ve fucked up; that he still might throw you aside if you can’t take him, and now you’ve been utterly ruined.)
“Hey,” he says, all comforting and appeasing, “I ain’t hurt you yet, have I?” You shake your head, but your bottom lip is still trembling. “I’m gonna go slow with you, I promise.” He shifts forward again, the head of his cock catching against your entrance. “Just keep your eyes on me, darlin’. I promise, it’ll feel so good . . . you wanna keep your husband happy, don’t ya? I’ve already got you all stretched and prepped. Just breathe--”
He keeps up the steady stream of talk as he urges his hips forward, your cunt swallowing the head of his cock first before he’s able to push more of his shaft in. You keep your eyes on his, green eyes locked against yours – and though he can hear the shake in your chest, you don’t make any noise louder than a huff when he gets two thirds of the way in. He pauses there for a minute, letting you adjust – he can feel every minute tremble of your body, swears he can hear your heartbeat.
“Good?” He asks, and you nod – and he slides the last third of himself inside you in the same unhurried pace, until he’s settled hot and heavy entirely inside of you.
His eyes map your stomach, pleasure rushing through him at how big he must be inside of you; there’s the lightest shadow on your pelvis, as if he’s big enough to make your stomach bulge. He takes in the sight of you with all nine inches of him buried inside of you; the sore, spread-wide stretch of your cunt around him, the creamy ring of your pleasure where you’re joined.
He can’t fuck you vigorously – he thinks he’d fucking breakyou - but you’re tight enough that he’s getting plenty of stimulation just from keeping his cock in there.
“P-please,” you manage to form, through your swollen lips and your glassy eyes and your dry throat. “W-want you to fuck me, Toji--”
Oh, fucking hell.
You’re perfect.
“I will, sweetheart, don’t you worry,” he instinctively leans down and presses a kiss on your sweat-soaked forehead, flexing his hips so they withdraw the smallest amount. “Just lie there and take it for me--”
You do.
He doesn’t fuck into you with abandon, though he wants to more than he can say; plenty of time for that in the future, as your cunt moulds to his cock and it isn’t such an effort to get it inside of you. Plenty of time for you to learn just how hard he wants to rail you, until you’re covered in his bruises and there are friction burns on your knees – plenty of time for him to show you every depraved thing you make him want to do to you and make sure that you enjoy it.
He fucks you with slow, shallow strokes, taking most of his pleasure from the way you feel around of him; your eyes, your mouth, your heaving chest. You’re hot and tight and wet and grip him perfectly – his fingers digging into your thighs where they’re wrapped around his hips.
He’s been hard for what seems like hours, so it’s no surprise, either, that he feels his orgasm come quickly up on him like a steam train – it’s not like you’re going to shame him for coming quickly, you’ve never even been fucked before. So he lets the heat all gather low in his belly until he can feel himself teetering on the edge – and then, he dips his head and pulls you into a heated kiss as he grinds his hips in a circular motion inside of you and feels himself tip over the precipice.
His cock shudders and judders inside of you, shooting rope after rope of his come deep into your body; thick and hot and full. His teeth worry at your bottom lip almost hard enough to draw blood, the groan vibrating through you as he comes and pushing you into another short, trembling orgasm as if trying to milk him dry of everything that he can give you.
(You like him coming inside? He can work with that too.)
Your thighs are tight around his hips, your arms draping loosely about his neck as he kisses you. Your tongue nervously probes at the scar; the slightly raised line bisecting his mouth, and though he usually doesn’t like it being noticed or touched (he knows it gives him an air of danger, but sometimes the events surrounding it’s acquirement sting), he finds that with you he doesn’t mind.
With you, his eyes flicker closed and he just enjoys the closeness and warmth of your body, even as he gently pulls his cock out of you (you leak slick onto the bedsheets, again. He’s gonna have to buy some more laundry tablets).
“How’s that, darlin?” He murmurs to you, not moving from his comfortable place on top of you. “Glad y’didn’t save it for marriage now, huh?”
Your cheeks radiating heat is enough answer for him, Toji’s smirk so wide and smug that it threatens to split his face in two. He flops to one side of you, pulling you in, cradling you against him like a little spoon. He can’t help but notice that the curve of your body fits perfectly against his.
The two of you will fit even better in Toji’s bed, he thinks.
“We’ll get all the paperwork and shit sorted tomorrow,” he tells you, as he feels your breathing begin to even out, the tremors from your orgasm begin to fade. He could get used to this too. Someone warming his bed. Someone to cuddle up to on cold nights. Someone soft, to ease the loneliness he hadn’t realised he was feeling.
He doesn’t want to get sappy on you, though. He lowers his face to the shell of your ear, breathing gently, murmuring in a voice that’s still dripping with desire for everything you represent to him;
“The other stuff that goes with a marriage too. I wasn’t kiddin’ about wantin’ to finger you with my wedding ring on, darlin’.”
“You know.. resisting will only stop you from enjoying this.” Another heavy hit of the flogger against your inner thigh, marking the third time in the same spot. Unable to move from the spread out position you’re in since each of your limbs are cuffed to the bed posts. Your unresponsiveness doesn’t sit well with the man towering above you. A firm hand slaps your thigh harder than the flogger did previously and even though you flinch viciously with every hit, the bed doesn’t shake. “Nanami what’s the meaning of this?” He leans down close to you, minty breath fanning against your face when he responds, “Why the formalities? We’re just trying something new.” Gritting your teeth, you hiss, “Yeah, clearly. The Kento I know would’ve warned me at least.” A forced chuckle is all you hear before he steps away and opens a drawer behind you, pulling an object out and walking back towards you with it behind his back. “I apologize in advance for what you’re going to experience.” Confusion is written all over your face, an expression that he’s never left you feeling before.
When a cold cylinder shape is pressed against your lips, an incoherent slur you ask, “What are you doing?” Nanami lifts your head, and you receive no answer to your question. What you do hear, is the sound of a buckle snapping. At the same time, the object in your mouth tightens enough to stop you from speaking overall. “It’s just a ball gag, sweetheart.” He steps away from you and walks back over to the drawer that he pulled this device from. Carefully and quietly selecting which toys to use against you while you stare at the ceiling. More than anything, you’re in disbelief that he’s capable of something like this. You know that he would never cause any real harm to you, but he’s a dedicated man and you don’t know how long he’ll drag things out.
Nanami tosses a few items next to your body, before sitting down next to you and blocking your view from identifying what they are. Metal clanks together while he ruffles his hand through the pile. He picks up a pair of nipple clamps and lets you examine them before adjusting the clips to a looser setting. You watch him, quiet and alert; paying attention to his every move. Tension in the room is high, a mixture of his excitement and concentration. Nanami places the nipple clamps on you one by one. What’s supposed to be a moan ends up sounding like a hum against the gag in your mouth, eyes rolling back at the sharp sting on your nipples. His eyes peer down at your cunt that’s drooling onto the sheets below you. How’s he supposed to maintain his resolve when you’re like this in front of him? Sprawled out on the bed with vulnerability washed over your features like a fawn who lost their mother. Two deft fingers slip into your cunt, exiting as quick as they entered while he observes his slick coated fingers. “I’m glad you’re pleased by this.”
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