Im so very sorry to anyone who clicks on my profile and sees the horny things I repost. Im not mindless gooner I swear please just click off while you still can
He'll have you sit on his lap naked, just so you'll get his jeans dirty. Something about it really makes his cock throb.
Or, he'll fuck you on his fingers while wearing his favourite pair of gloves before a mission, just so he has something to lick and smell when he gets lonely—and you do get a helluva fucking when your scent wears off his gloves sooner than usual. As if you can control that.
After one too many punishments for that though, you pushed him down and sat on his face while he wore his balaclava. Practically waterboarding the bloke with your arousal. Simon always loved when you were just as perverted as he was.
The thing that turns you on disgusts you the most? You'll be bent over in your kitchen, garden, laundry; and Simon'll come up behind you, shove his fingers in you before pulling them out before you can properly register what he's doing, walking off and sucking his fingers with a pleased hum.
You've scolded him for it countless times, yet the pervert doesn't care. Smiling at you in a way that from any other man? It would make your stomach twist in disgust. But from Simon? You can't get enough.
And yes, he is in fact the type of guy to pull your asscheeks apart so he can lick his thumb and press it against the spasming ring of muscle,
"If she keeps winking at me like this, I'll have to fuck her too." Growled in your ear while you whine in disgust, as if you don't have a pretty little collection of plugs in the back of your dresser already.
You and Simon just loved pretending like you were being corrupted by him.
⛧°. ⋆𓌹♰𓌺⋆. °⛧
Buy my cat a treat? (•˕ •マ.ᐟ
Might change my divider, and way of colouring text. I dunno guys. Anyway hiiiii lol please don't sound me for not posting until now. Can women be sounded? God I hope not.
You’d been with the 141 long enough that the team felt like home—Price’s cigars, Soap’s endless jokes, Gaz’s easy laugh, and Ghost… well, Ghost was Ghost. Silent, broad-shouldered, always layered in black long sleeves and that damn mask. You’d never seen an inch of skin. Not once.
Well, until today.
You’d caught him in the gym, sleeves pushed up while he wiped down equipment. And oh God—Ink. A full sleeve on his left arm—dark, intricate, covered from wrist to bicep—maybe even higher— in sharp lines and shadows. Skulls, barbed wire, something that looked like a grim reaper. It suited him perfectly, and the sight hit you low in the gut.
You couldn’t stop staring. When he noticed, he tilted his head, that masked stare pinning you.
“Something wrong, love?”
You swallowed. “Your arm. I didn’t know you had any tattoos. They’re… really fucking cool.”
Ghost paused. “You want a closer look?” His voice dropped, low and rough, a warning but.. you didn’t catch it. “Might not be able to unsee it.”
You nodded without hesitation. “Yeah. I want to see.”
You not catching that warning was more blessing than curse— now you’re in his quarters, door locked, the only light a sad lamp casting shadows across the room. Your back is pressed to his chest, legs spread over his thighs as he fucks up into you from behind—slow, deep, relentless. The thick, tattooed arm hooked around you, and he’s got three fingers shoved deep in your mouth, stretching your lips, pressing down on your tongue, keeping you quiet.
You can see every inch of the ink.
The sleeve is even more detailed up close—black and gray, textured, the designs shifting with every flex of his forearm as he works his fingers in and out of your mouth in time with his cock. Saliva slicks his fingers, dripping down your chin, but you don’t care. You moan around them, eyes locked on the tattoos, on the way his muscles move, on how hot the contrast is between the deadly ink and the way he’s using that hand to keep you quiet and full.
“Fuckin’ asked if you were sure..” he growls against your ear, accent thick, breath hot through the mask he won’t remove. “Now look at you. Mouth stuffed with my fingers, cunt clenching every time you see somethin’ new. Dirty girl.”
He thrusts harder, hips snapping up, the wet sounds were obscene. His tattooed arm stays exactly where you can see it—fingers hooked in your cheek, thumb brushing your lower lip as he makes you take them deeper. You gag softly and he chuckles, low and dark, never slowing.
“That’s it. Keep your eyes on it while I ruin you.”
Your hands grip his forearm, fingers tracing the lines of the tattoos as your orgasm builds fast and sharp. Ghost doesn’t let up—he fucks you through it, fingers muffling your cries, the full sleeve on display just for you like he promised.
When he finally pulls his fingers free, strings of spit connecting them to your lips, he drags the wet digits down your throat, over your chest, and presses the tattooed palm flat against your stomach so you can feel every inch of him still buried inside.
“Next time..” he murmurs, voice wrecked, “you’ll trace every line while I’m balls deep. Yeah?”
୨୧⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅୨୧⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅୨୧ ⋅┈∘┈⋅⋅┈∘┈⋅ ୨୧
A/N: ….I’ve been going feral since the sleeve reveal guys..
🍓Couldn’t get sending Harumasa nudes out of my head and then I saw @mini-ism post about Caesar going through Livhters phone and had Jimmy Neutron Brain blast. (My moots are so awesome and talented and everyone should give them love). Like... what DO they have on their phone, if anything? So that's what this is. Also took this as my chance to write for my favorite straight white cat boy Seth.
Tw: Nsfw; recording during sex; rough sex (all); somnophilia (Harumasa); breeding kink (Seth); bottom harumasa and seth; Mommy kink (seth); grammar errors (inevitable)
Info: Fem bodied reader (no pronouns i think? use of mommy though); Harumasa x Reader; Lighter x Reader; Seth x Reader; I tried to add plot but who am I kidding this is porn
Harumasa Asaba
The first time Asaba Harumasa asked to record you during sex, you declined. He'd wanted it so he could use it at work, during those days that he really needed you most. It's not like you were shy about your body, especially not with him. He'd seen you naked a million times and done more than just admire your body on numerous occasions. You just didn't want to do it, not with the risk of his very important friends possibly seeing them. The idea of sweet Sokaku sneaking on his phone and somehow finding the videos was mortifying, to say the least. The consequences afterward would probably be even worse, you'd never be able to look Yanagi in the eyes again.
So, you told him no, and who is Asaba to press you on something like that. Feminism was hot, or whatever. He just wanted to see what he could get away with. Little did he know he planted a seed in your brain that kept on growing and growing until, one night, you asked him if he was still into the whole recording you thing.
He wanted to say "No fucking duh." But instead, he smiled and nodded all cute-like, "Oh? I thought you didn't want to? Don't tell me you've been holding out on me now..." And thus began your unexpected obsession with making amateur porn.
Harumasa isn't an idiot, of course, he keeps everything in a hidden folder within a hidden folder, accessible via a password only he knows. (He would give up any chance at living a long life to keep Sokaku as far away from his porn stash as possible). It's surprisingly well organized, coming from him at least. Categorized by type (picture and videos), who was topping, and which kinks you indulged in.
His personal favorites, though, are saved in a separate folder within those already existing folders. They're his go-to when he's feeling so very pent up at work and needs release fast enough that Yanagi won't come looking for him. Like right now, the phone under the desk and the volume just loud enough that only he could make it out by straining his ears. A little treat for his hard work today.
The first one starts out with shaky camera work -- you'd grabbed and started recording in a hurry like you realized this one would make good content for him. (You were right, as usual). The sun is peaking through the curtains of his dark apartment, and with the light, he can just barely make out his sleeping face. You pan the camera down, and one of your hands is gently tracing along his slowly hardening cock, already free and begging for you to suck it. It jumps in your hand as you rub the tip, and then all of a sudden the camera flips and he gets to see your face. You have eyebags under your eyes and your hair is sticking out in several places with little bruises littering your collarbones. Just how he likes you. Shuffling follows and the camera jerks around awkwardly until it rests on his abdomen and refocuses on you, dick still in hand and eyes blinking innocently at the camera.
You tap the tip against your cheek a few times, Harumasa's hips pressing up into your hand as you do so. You smile a little at him offscreen, and it's almost affectionate until you swallow him down in one go. What you can't fit in your mouth you fist with your hand, bobbing in a perfectly trained rhythm that he knows would have him seeing stars. His hips awkwardly jerk, but you take him so well that it doesn't even bother you. The camera shifts again as Harumasa himself begins to wake up. A confused, "Oh fuck," is moaned out in the background, just barely audible over the heavenly sound of you sucking and swallowing him up. Then, your eyes flutter up, right as a hand fists its way into your hair. The video cuts shortly after that, leaving the rest of it up to his impeccable memory.
The next one is a bit longer, and honestly humiliating for him, but he can't get enough of it. Again you're holding the camera, but this time he is awake. It starts with your hand on his ass, marked with the harsh imprint of your strikes, bright and red and sure to bruise (it did). You make sure to get a good angle of yourself pounding him into the sheets, the sounds of squelching mixed with incoherent babbling from him something sinful. You glide your hand over his bare back, camera following along, then tug on his fluffy black hair. He lets out a pathetic whine as you push the camera into his fucked out face. Cheeks red, drool dripping down his chin, eyes watery and unfocused. It's all he can do to answer you when you finally ask, "You were a good boy today, weren't you Harumasa? Tell the camera how good you were today."
"Yessss, 'm a very good boy~" He hiccups out through your harsh thrusts.
You coo at him, pressing a little kiss to his cheek which gets him smiling like a moron in the video, "You know what good boys get to do, right?"
He visibly jolts in the frame, right as you wrap your pretty fingers around his swollen cock just out of frame. A whorish moan leaves his mouth as you pick up the pace, determined to make him cum. His whole face twists in pleasure as he cries out your name, releasing all over your fingers and the sheets. The camera flips, and you're giggling as you spread the covered hand playfully for the camera. "Such a good boy~" You hum, and the video cuts as you begin sucking each finger clean.
The last one he has, which is the only one where he's holding the camera, is his personal favorite. You're in the Section 6 office, legs spread out and perched wobbly on the arms of his desk chair. Miyabi, Yanagi, and Sokaku were all out for lunch and you'd been so sweet to bring him the one he'd 'accidentally' forgotten at home. His pace was fast and rough as he slammed into you. He preferred taking things slow, but even he had to admit he liked the thrill of a quicky in such an open area. One hand comes down to hold your thigh at a different angle, and you let out the squeakiest excuse for his name he'd ever heard. "I thought you didn't want them to see you like this... you're awfully contradictory~" He teases from behind the camera, not that you have it in you to do anything but whine at him. "What would Miyabi think of you..." He tuts, "and poor Tsukishiro might have a heart attack... how shameless can you be?"
He zooms in on your face, head thrown back and mouth stuck wide open with empty gasps just begging to become moans. Your body shakes as his thrusts become less fast and more rough, skin slapping against skin in the quiet office on the very desk he was scrolling through his phone. He can see his name form on your lips.
"Harumasa," Came Yanagi's voice instead, he jumps, quickly locking his phone and slipping it into his pocket, "I understand paperwork is boring, but scrolling on your phone is-"
"Unacceptable, I know," He sighs, "I'm getting to it I promise. Just... right after a quick bathroom break, okay?"
He's up and gone before she can respond, already deciding which video he should watch to fix his little issue. Oh! Or he could ask you for a new one right now, it'd been a minute since he'd gotten you masturbating.
Lighter Lorenz
Lighter didn't get the appeal of it at first. Why would he settle for videos and pictures when the real thing was so much better? Just didn't make sense to him, but sure, he'd let you do what you want. You were damn adorable with how excited you got when he said yes to another video or picture.
It wasn't until an extended period of time away from you that he realized how badly he was missing out. He was horny and you were too far away to do anything about it and no matter what he imagined he could not get off for the life of him. So, he caves and asks you to send one of those videos you'd made. It was probably the fastest he'd cum by himself since getting with you.
Lighter admits defeat, you were right, those videos are something else. Not nearly as good as the real thing, but close enough when he needed it. He's very selective about what does and does not get filmed though. There are some moments he wants to keep just between the two of you, no cameras or anything like that. However, once he gets into it he really gets into it, and those videos are cinema for amateur pornstars.
He keeps the videos and pictures in an unlabeled folder on his phone, not nearly as meticulous about hiding it as Harumasa or Seth might be. He didn't have the risk factor, the girls wouldn't go through his phone without asking first, and he wasn't careless enough to leave it out for others to dig through its contents. He also wasn't stupid enough to look through his little stash with others around, always waiting until he was completely isolated to look.
You were out for the night doing something or another for someone, too kind for your own good, leaving only Lighter and his hand to keep his dick company. He clicks open the folder, smiling to himself when he's met with pretty pictures of you.
He scrolls a bit, then clicks on a more recently recorded one. The camera is focused on your stomach, just low enough that he can see the flared red tip of his dick teasing your swollen clit. A deep chuckle sounds from behind the camera, followed by a grumpy little whine from you. He takes the hint, sliding his tip down and slowly dipping it into your drooling cunt. You let out the cutest squeal as he stretches you out, his hips angling up so his cock presses against your tummy.
The camera zooms in on the outline of his tip, pressing just below your navel. You babble something incoherent, and Lighter hums like it's the most interesting thing in the world. His calloused hand comes into view, tracing the outline with a low hiss. "Fuck, you feel me inside baby?" You mumble something out again, a much smaller hand sliding under his. He presses down as you trace a finger over him, and a whorish moan leaves your mouth. He ruts himself into you, hand pressing down so both of you could feel just how deep inside he was. Your body trembles with each hard thrust, and the camera work gets shakier and shakier the louder Lighter gets until it stops altogether after an annoyed groan — literally thrown across the room so he could focus more on you.
The next one he picks among a sea of delicacies is an older one, one of the first he'd agreed to make with you. The camera is set up on the nightstand, angled nicely so he could see your pretty tits bouncing with each thrust of his hips up into yours. You're wearing his scarf around your neck, and you look like sex incarnate hopping up and down on him.
His veiny hands grab at your hips, guiding each movement with careful precision. You're leaned back, head thrown to the sky as you call his name like a mantra. Each thrust makes your voice peak a little higher, the only thing louder being the slap of wet skin on skin. One particularly rough thrust has you keening, falling forward to press your sweaty face to his just out of frame. He can see your hips roll desperately into his own for all of a few seconds before his hands wrap around your thighs to hoist you up so he can bully his cock into your abused pussy. The whole bed shakes as the headboard slams into the wall, the camera tumbling to the ground forgotten as it records your brainless sobs over the sound of his brutal pace. A weird habit he’s noticed consistently in these videos.
He's close, he can feel it, as he strokes himself a little faster. Just needed the perfect thing to push him over the edge. He taps one of your personal favorites, citing it as 'the most fun' for you to film. In it, he is holding the camera down, you're kneeling between his legs, head resting on his thigh as your deft fingers play with his member. You smile up at him, sliding the bead of precum around the tip like a game.
He's huge in your hand, and it's a miracle you manage to fit your slim fingers around his fat cock. Slowly stroking down, then back up, your thumb sure to run over that vein that made his toes curl. You keep a steady pace, teasing him with the sweetest grin on your face.
"Feelin' good baby?" You purr up at him, amused at what is likely a very red faced Lighter.
There's an audible swallow, and the camera shakes as he answers, "Real good. Takin' good care 'f me."
You giggle, satisfied with the answer enough to lean down and start sucking on his balls. Your other hand scraped against his thigh, the muscles beneath tensing at the sensation. The sound of your sucking, mixed in with his little whimpers has him cumming prematurely, not that it stops him from fucking his hand through his orgasm. The video continues on like that, you teasing him to the edge and denying him his orgasm like a monster. Unlike then, he had quiet the mess to clean up now.
He thinks better of just cleaning it up, though. Instead snapping a quick picture and sending it to you with a little, 'Miss you.'
Seth Lowell
Seth is an incredibly polite, considerate, sweetheart who would never in a million years dream of asking to record you during sex. He might just be the most vanilla guy in all of New Eirdu, and recording seems... a little violating of your privacy. It's not something he considers an option.
Until one day, after a very long week where you and Seth hadn't seen each other for more than a few hours thanks to his work schedule. He's lying in the dorms, texting you about mundane tasks when you throw out how much you miss him. He obviously misses you too, and says so. You ask him if he would like to see how much you miss him, and the sweet thing he is the undertone goes right over his head. He expects a picture of you maybe pouting, doing something you would typically do together by yourself.
When he opens it he's greeted by you, two fingers deep in your own cunt, pretty juices glistening in the dim lighting of your bedroom -- oh god is that his shirt you're wearing? He short circuits, literally just staring slack-jawed at the phone for god knows how long until one of his buddies comes in and starts poking fun at him. He slams the phone down, and he makes it home in record time. That was all the convincing he needed from you to record your (rather basic) sexual escapades.
Seth does not save the videos, ever. They're all in your text chain, pinned there for easy access, but he refuses to keep them in his album. Way too risky for him with his family and his coworkers and... well... knowing himself. They're really only there for you, he doesn't have any free time to watch them and get off. He does, however like watching them when he's alone in the dorms for the night. Just a nice reminder of what he'll be doing next time he sees you.
Like this one, where the camera is pointed down on him, red-faced and teary-eyed as you ride him like no tomorrow. His chest is littered with little purple love bites, and your fingers splay out across them as you roll your hips deliciously against him. He whimpers in the video, shying away from the camera. The hand on his chest reaches over to flick his already too-hard nipple, twisting it a little. A giggle bubbles out of your chest when he keens.
"You like it when I ride you, don't you Seth...?" You coo, tracing your fingers over to the other nipple to give it attention. He nods with a whine, biting back his moans. You pinch him harshly as punishment, "Use your words."
He sighs, humiliated at the degradation, but swallows his pride and responds, "Yes Mommy."
He grimaces at his own voice, quickly closing out of the video to find something a little less... vocal. He settles on one where the camera is pointed down, you're wearing pretty blue lingerie. In this one, he's between your legs, ears flattened back as he gives you little kitten licks to your sensitive bud. The rough texture of his tongue makes your legs twitch, nearly closing on him, but fighting themselves back open.
He looks up to the camera, or more so past it, to look at you just begging for approval. Your hand comes into the frame, rubbing at one of his ears encouragingly. He lights up, taking the sign as his chance to swallow you down. He dives in like a kitten into milk, slurping and sucking with your hand guiding his movements. Your little sighs of approval get his tail curling up in the air behind him. Your little happy kitty, servicing you like the queen you are. “Good boy~” You coo so sweetly, and his tail twitches excitedly behind him.
He smiles fondly at the phone, was it weird to find it more cute than hot. Maybe he was too lovestruck. It didn't matter too much to him as he found one that you had favorited in the chat. He... didn't remember this one at all from the thumbnail, it got him curious.
The first thing he's greeted by is you face down in the sheets, his pale hand pushing your head into the pillows. Then he hears the wet slapping of skin, the camera following down to show where he was fucking you from behind. His entire abdomen is literally shimmering with a mix of your and his cum, the sticky white substance quite literally all over your back and his hands now that he was looking.
This was... he can't believe he had the mental capacity to think to record himself fucking you during his heat. His cock stirs in his pants, but he's too curious to stop watching before he screws himself over too much. The camera shifts as he leans over you, giving it a perfect view as he bites into the back of your neck. Your face is stained with tears, and your mouth is wide open with pleasure -- no sound escaped though, and Seth realizes that he'd fucked your throat raw in this video.
"Gonna fuck you full of my kits, wanna make you a real Mommy. That's okay, right? You wanna have my babies too don't you?" his rough voice mumbles into your skin, and you only nod in response, too fucked out to really do anything else.
He thinks the video will end there, but instead, the camera pulls up again as Seth pulls out. A broken, muted wail leaves you at the loss, but Seth ignores it in favor of recording your used pussy. Globs of cum leak out of it, down your thighs, and Seth's nimble fingers scoop it up and shove it back inside like in a trance. He clicks his phone off at that, way too flustered at the sight.
A frustrated sigh leaves his lips as he falls back into the uncomfortable bedding of the dorm. Great, now he was rock-hard and had no way of getting off. He had work in two hours, but there was no way he'd be getting any sleep like this. He frowns at his lock screen, a picture of the two of you together. You wouldn't mind if he came home and interrupted your rest that much, would you?
fem!dio brando when it's finally your period ╱ mdni, blood play, power imbalance, manipulation, dub con, degradation, edging, bondage, dio is her own warning ˚.✦
fem!dio brando who keeps you locked in her room with a pretty outfit on, she hasn't bite you yet to transform you into a vampire because she likes you like that, all innocent and dolled up for her.
fem!dio brando who doesn't pay attention to you all month, just letting you share a bed with her and use your mouth and fingers for her own pleasure, never indulging in your own.
fem!dio brando who doesn't like when you beg her to fuck her, she doesn't like how pretty you look on your knees with only your soaked panties on. It pisses her off so much, if she sees you like that, she'll probably slap you across your face, making sure to leave a mark.
fem!dio brando who wakes you up yanking your hair so you go down on her when the night hits, pushing your face between her spread pussy lips. She tells you how terrible you're doing it and that you really are as worthless as she thinks. Most of the times she shifts you so she can ride your face better.
fem!dio brando who when she's horny, she keeps you in bed for hours, making you finger her and touch her until she comes five different times. She has stamina for hours and it drives you insane most of the times.
fem!dio brando who, four days a month, allows you to be the center of her attention. Only when you're on your period. She keeps tracks of the cycle, the moons and your mood swings, and when the day reaches, she has a gorgeous white lingerie set that insists you on staining.
fem!dio brando who ties your hands and feet to the bed, keeping you those four days at her mercy, for her to take you whenever she wanted.
fem!dio brando who inspects your pussy first, making sure you haven't touched yourself in all month. She spreads your pussy lips slowly, coating her fingers with the blood, tasting it. That's the main reason she keeps you, your blood, your sweet period blood tastes wonders to her.
fem!dio brando who presses down your clit to see how responsive you are, your hips twitch at the lightest pressure, making her laugh. Then she circles your entrance, you're already clenching around nothing.
fem!dio brando who spanks your pussy once, "Stop doing that, you'll spill out the blood." You whine at her hit, but you obey her, doing your best to be still.
fem!dio brando who circles your entrance before pushing one finger in, checking the tightness of your hole, reaching as deep as she can with her long and slim fingers. You're trembling just for that, thighs shaking as her nail hits your cervix. She hums under her breath, you're as tight as the last time she fingered you, which is perfect. "You've been a good girl for me," she says, pulling your her finger, that's now covered in your blood, she takes it all in her mouth.
fem!dio brando who, after a whole month of using you, finally rewards you (even though it's still for her own pleasure) leaning in and sealing her lips around your clit. She rough, scraping the hood with her teeth as she sucks and licks it mindlessly, you grip the sheets, knowing that you aren't allowed to touch her in these moments.
fem!dio brando who stops paying attention to your clit and moves to your entrance, sucking there to get all of your blood on her mouth. She puts her weirdly long tongue inside of you, slurping your red liquid while your moans fill the room. She's not slow, she's been waiting for this the whole month, she's needy too even if she doesn't accept it. All the horniness from before is just the way she handles how much she needs you.
fem!dio brando who makes you cum with just the relentless pace of her tongue at least three times in a row. Your taste drives her so insane that you cannot do anything to push her from it, she's stick to it. She's so pussydrunk that isn't hearing your pretty whines and moans anymore, she doesn't even care if you've came or not, the only thing she wants is to take all your period blood.
fem!dio brando who looks up at you when you're finally dry of blood for this round. She knows that in a few hours you'll be back spilling her favorite drink and she's gonna keep you tucked by her side to not miss it.
fem!dio brando who cleans the sweat accumulated in your your body, forehead and below your breasts specifically. "How many times did I make you come, darling?" Her voice is sweeter than ever, dabbing the cloth around your body, cleaning your armpits and inner thighs from sweat. "I-I don't know, four... maybe?" you tell her, your voice is rasped and low, you don't have the energy to talk louder. "That's good, darling. Now rest and maybe next time you'll get five."
fem!dio brando who never leaves the room in those four days, she feeds you high iron foods, big glasses of water so you're blood flows easily out of you.
fem!dio brando who lays on her side next to you, head propped on her head as she stares down at you, her hand tickling your belly until she reaches your wet folds, keeping a finger inside of you so she can feel the blood when it reaches her.
fem!dio brando who eats you out slowly the next time, now that her hunger toned down, she can take her time to savor every drop of your taste, twirling her tongue around your clit as her fingers work inside of you to get out all of the possible blood.
fem!dio brando who listens you more this time. "Di-Dio nghh! I'm close s'close!" She hears you whine, your face sinking on the pillow. She keeps the pace, flicking your clit with her tongue and her fingers making their way inside of you.
fem!dio brando who keeps her promise and makes you cum five times that round.
fem!dio brando who keeps increasing the number of orgasms each day, when you reach the last day, you doubt you are a person anymore. Your whole body is marked from her strong grips and her hickeys, you pussy is red and puffy, you can't even tell your cum and her saliva apart.
fem!dio brando who ends every cycle with a fierce kiss, exploring your mouth with her tongue until you're breathless.
fem!dio brando who unties you, rubbing your red wrists and ankles, letting you have a bath as long as you need it, with a nice clean outfit hanged at the door.
fem!dio brando who lets you lay on her chest that night, her arms cradling you and letting you rest, promising you that next month she'll turn you into a vampire so you could be together forever.
a/n: shout out to my girl @fancy-possum who helped me get this good<3
୨୧ attempting to ride frat!sukuna for the first time (spoiler alert: you went out sad.)
you’ve been hyping yourself up for this all week.
utahime and shoko were the ones who started it—half-joking, half-serious over overpriced matcha lattes, telling stories about how they took charge in bed for once and had their boyfriends wrapped around their fingers by the end of the night.
shoko said she pinned her boyfriend down and told him not to move. utahime claimed she sat on her boyfriend’s face and refused to get off. and they were so smug. so smug about it. and when you hesitantly admitted you’d never been on top before, they gasped like you’d confessed to a felony.
“you have to try it,” utahime said, eyes wide. “he’ll lose his mind.”
“ride him into the mattress,” shoko added, sipping her drink. “trust me. life changing.”
you blushed, mumbled something like “maybe” and laughed it off. but the idea stuck. it echoed around in your head for days—initiate it. be in charge. ride him. you weren’t shy with sukuna, not really—not anymore—but you’d never tried to take control like that. he always led. always pushed. always gave that smug little smirk right before flipping you onto your back and dragging you apart.
but maybe it was your turn.
maybe you could do this.
so you waited until your roommates were out. shaved. lotioned. picked out the soft little matching set tucked in the back of your drawer—the one you bought on impulse and never had the courage to wear. and when he showed up at your door, hoodie loose and joggers slung low on his hips, hair still damp from the shower, you nearly lost your nerve.
but you let him in.
you closed the door behind him, heart pounding.
you turned, stood in front of him, and tried to sound confident when you said, “i want to ride you tonight.”
he paused. blinked once. then tilted his head. “yeah?”
you nodded, palms sweating. “i—i want to try.”
he didn’t laugh. didn’t tease. didn’t say no. but the look on his face shifted slowly into something darker, something sharper—like he’d just been handed his favorite game and told he couldn’t touch it yet.
“alright,” he said slowly, dropping onto the bed with his legs spread wide, leaning back on his hands. his hoodie fell open a little, exposing the ink just under his collarbone. his eyes raked over your body, and his smirk curled. “go ahead then. do your worst.”
you hesitated.
that was your first mistake.
you climbed into his lap, straddling his thighs. hands trembling as you pushed his hoodie off his shoulders. he let you—patient, curious, still smug as ever. you kissed his neck, pressed your hips down tentatively, feeling him already hard beneath you. your fingers slipped under the waistband of his sweats, and he hissed softly, hands gripping your hips.
but he didn’t help. he didn’t guide you.
he just watched.
“c’mon, baby,” he murmured, voice low. “you said you wanted to ride.”
you tried. you really did.
but the moment he slid inside you—slow, thick, stretching you open with that impossible fullness—your rhythm faltered. your mouth dropped open in a gasp, hands bracing against his chest. and he just grinned.
that smile. sharp, slow, wide. like he’d been waiting for you to break.
“what happened to being in charge, baby?” he murmured, voice low, dripping with mock-sweetness. “you were so confident a second ago.”
you shook your head quickly, breath catching, thighs already trembling where they straddled his lap. you could feel everything—every vein, every inch, every pulse of him buried inside you. it was overwhelming. too much. and he wasn’t even moving yet.
his hands settled on your hips, gentle at first, thumbs brushing your skin in soothing circles. “c’mon,” he said, leaning back just enough to look at you properly. “ride me like you said you would. take what you want.”
but you couldn’t. not really. you shifted your hips once—and the drag of him against your walls made your whole body twitch, a breathy little whimper slipping past your lips before you could catch it. and sukuna felt it. heard it. saw the way your eyes fluttered, how you bit your lip and tried to stay composed, tried to pretend like you were still the one in control.
his grin widened.
“fuckin’ knew it,” he muttered, voice dipping darker. “knew you weren’t built for this.”
you squeaked in protest, moving again just to prove him wrong—but the way your hips stuttered, the way your hands trembled on his chest, told him everything he needed to know. and that was all it took. he snapped.
one hand tangled in the back of your hair. the other gripped your ass, hard.
and suddenly you were flat on the bed, your legs bent up, arms pinned, his cock slamming into you so deep it knocked the air from your lungs.
“this what you wanted?” he growled, thrusts brutal and fast and mean now, the sound of your bodies slapping together echoing through the room. “you wanted to play in charge, baby? wanted to see how that felt?”
you whimpered something helpless, face flushed, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes from how good it felt, how full you were, how every stroke hit just right and made your brain dissolve. and he just laughed.
“you lasted what—two minutes on top?” he leaned down, lips brushing your jaw. “cute idea, though.”
you were already so close. your nails dug into the sheets. your body bowed under him, shaking. and when you came—loud, soaked, legs locking around his waist—he didn’t even slow down. fucked you right through it. chased his own high with his mouth at your ear, moaning about how tight you were, how sweet you sounded when you begged, how he knew you couldn’t actually handle topping him.
you went quiet after that. still clinging to him, twitching, wrecked.
he stayed inside you. stayed close. kissed the corner of your mouth and whispered, “don’t worry. you’re still my little shy girl.”
you would’ve shoved him if you could move.
but you couldn’t. not even a little.
you were twenty minutes late to lecture. not because you overslept—but because it took a full ten minutes to ease yourself into a pair of jeans, another five to sit down, and the rest to just breathe. your thighs ached. your back twinged. and the thought of bending over to grab anything off the floor made your eyes water. you felt split in two. ruined. rearranged.
utahime clocked it immediately. she barely looked up from her notes before her eyes flicked over to you and narrowed. “why are you walking like that?”
“like what?” you mumbled, trying not to wince as you slowly lowered yourself into the seat beside her.
shoko was already smirking, iced coffee in hand, gaze sharp. “oh my god. you did it, didn’t you?”
“i don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“don’t play dumb,” utahime said, leaning closer, her voice low. “did you ride him?”
you stayed quiet. that was answer enough.
shoko leaned in, practically vibrating. “and???”
you buried your face in your sleeve. paused. whispered, “he told me to do my worst.”
utahime blinked. “and?”
“i lasted like… thirty seconds.”
there was a beat of silence. and then they lost it.
utahime choked on her drink. shoko folded over the desk, full-on wheezing. you slapped her arm weakly, but she just wiped her eyes and said, “i knew he was gonna flip you. i knew it.”
you sank lower in your seat, pulling your hoodie over your mouth. your legs still weren’t closed all the way. your thighs felt bruised in places that shouldn’t be bruised. and you knew—you knew—that the moment sukuna saw you trying to walk across campus today, he was gonna say some shit like “told you you’re built for being ruined, not in charge.”
and somewhere in your my eyes only snap camera roll was a blurry picture he’d taken after. your body boneless, legs sprawled across his lap, his hand wrapped around your thigh with his rings biting gently into your skin. the caption written across it being: “stick to being pretty, baby.”
Synopsis. It’s knotting season and all the hybrids are…in rut.
Pairings. [SEPARATE] Higuruma x Reader, Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, HYBRIDS AU, ruts, pheromones, farmer!Shiu cameo, exhíbitíonism, Iactation, MORE bull hybrid!Toji, hibernations, FÉRAL JJK men, slight bréeding, manhandIing, spítting, chokíng, HEADLOCKS, p talking, p sIapping, tentacIes (Geto), slight pIot, arranged marriages (Sukuna), true form!Sukuna, fox hybrid!Gojo (Judy Hopps!reader x Nick!Gojo), DP, creampíes, cumpIay, marathons, REACTIONS, pet names, swéaring.
A/N. HEHEHE- Toji’s a continuation of MILKSHAKE! but can be read alone. Choso’s inspired by this tiktok by theeee gorgeous @/v4mpyrf4e on Tiktok!! Their mind, y’all, their mind >>
♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Mr. Shiu’s Farm
Name: Toji Fushiguro
Age: 30’s (approx.)
Hybrid type: Bos taurus
Height: 6’2+
Weight class: 1600kg - 1800kg.
Other notes: Recently subject has found himself mated to a cow hybrid (see page 9 for full report). Currently residing on Mr. Shiu Kong’s farm alongside his mate. Currently in rut.
Shiu’s darkened eyes skim across the page, reading Dr. Shoko’s medical report for what seemed like the twentieth time in the past hour. He’s practically memorized every word and number on it by now, every footnote, every bit of neat typing that blurred into one wall of text except for—
Currently in rut.
—except for that single sentence.
The only one that the hybrid doctor had emboldened. Emphasized.
Toji Fushiguro had dragged you inside the barn the very moment his rut had hit him. The very split-second. And Shiu hadn’t seen his cute lil’ cow hybrid (alright, his favorite) in days…
So, surely, it wouldn’t hurt just to take a little peek?
Just to check up on you, of course! Just to make sure that brute of a bull hadn’t completely mauled you, of course! Seriously- what kind of farmer would Shiu even be if he didn’t care about the health of his most prized cows?
Which is why he’s standing in front of the barn doors at this very moment.
Towering and red. Furious and needy.
His ears burn as they take in the lecherous whines and squelches emanating from inside- and he’s placing one hand against the splintered doors. The other cascading down his toned front and squeezing his hot erection in an attempt to get himself to fucking calm down—
“Took ya long enough to man up.” Toji’s peeking up at the farmer through the gaps of his shaggy black bangs, scarred lips twisting up into the most sleazy smirk.
Even from here, the farmer could see the way that the bull hybrid had you on all fours. Thighs sheeny with slick and sweat, strands of golden hay sticking to your limbs, twitchin’ every time he was swabbing his bulbous red tip between your pussylips.
Toji doesn’t stop just because Shiu was watching.
In fact, the other man only rests his weight further down on your lower half and pins his pelvis against yours. Even deeper. Even harder. Making your poor, trembling self scramble forwards a few inches at the sudden increase of pressure- before Toji’s slapping two palms down on your hips and drag-drag-draaaaagging you back down onto his thick throbbing cock. Like a ragdoll.
Probin’ and probin’ inwards—in and out, in and out.
Shiu gulps as he catches a wet gush! of creamy sap leak out of your cunt - and he’s wondering whether Toji plans to stop at all.
Without any warning, Toji’s roughened fingertips come down to slam! on top of your slick-glazed folds. So tender and raw. And Shiu’s stepping forwards with his hand reached out- before he’s immediately freezing at the sound of you moaning.
“P-please-” Bucking your hips back in circular gyrations, you’re addicted to the way his puffy veins were snagging and rubbin’ against your g-spot. “Just feels so gooooood, Toji—”
“Shit…” Shiu whispers underneath his breath, eyes widening as he takes in the sight. There was a slight tinge of sweet cream and something woodsy in the air- and he’s wondering if this was what experts meant when they said hybrid pheromones made one lose their mind.
Toji glances over at the other man and scoffs—and without warning, he’s pulling out of your tight hole and flipping you over as if it was nothing. Right onto your back where he can stare at your pretty face whilst he presses his reddened cock between your legs-
Like an animal.
Rutting and rutting until Toji’s flared mushroom tip somehow bullies inside your cunt with a wettened plop! And looking from here, the size difference was just incredible- Shiu’s stepping even closer, driven crazy wondering just how such a cute, innocent-looking pussy can take such a big cock so filthily.
Without easing in, without even slowing down, Toji pumps his vein-covered shaft past your entrance and in, in, in—
“Naughty girl- heh, don’tcha know that s’rude not to greet guests?” He’s angling his hips so that the circular divot right on top of his shaft scrape-scrapes down your cervix and makes you shiver. “Or are you seriously that fucked stupid, hm?”
“Wh-what are you…” Dazedly, you’re so gone that you barely even register the way that Toji grabs onto the lil’ stubs of horns atop your crown and bodily moves your head to the side.
To where Shiu was standing frozen. Erection raging in his overalls.
You gasp-
“Awww, look.” Toji snickers, cutting you off with a few more vulgar strokes. In almost no time, he’s rendered you speechless- just loooong slobberin’ smooches being pressed up against the back of your pussy. “Your beloved farmer’s here to see ya!” Holding you in place by your horns, he forces you to make eye contact with Shiu while he fucks you. No matter how much you squirm. “What a shame his pretty girlie’s too busy getting fucked dumb on my cock to even notice him…”
“Easy there, bull.” You shudder at the husky baritone of the other man finally speaking up. The scowl on his handsome face. He still has a cigarette pressed between his lips, and the smoky scent clings to him like pheromones.
“And what about it, human?” Toji sneers right back, the bell ‘round his neck jiggling just a little as he opens your legs even wider. Making slick leak out from your core with a deafening splosh! and glisten right down the bull’s abs. He’s hitting your g-spot incessantly- “Jealous m’getting to fuck this pretty pussy and you can only watch?”
“You little-”
“Or-” The hybrid casually continues, folding you positively in half- until the caps of your knees hit your chest and you can only whine at the incessant stretch of your hamstrings. “-are ya jealous that I get to pump her so full of my cum that she doesn’t even remember your name?”
Shiu spits out his cigarette and stomps it out- fuck, he’s never been harder. “Don’t make me-”
But Toji only claws a hand upwards and squeezes your right tit, making a line of creamy milk dribble out from your swollen nipples. Which he’s leaning down to suckle on while looking Shiu right in the eyes, “Or s’it that you’re jealous she milks so much for me and nothing for you? Jealous that when I fuck her full of my calves she’ll be making even more?” You’re yelping as he bites dooooown on that sensitive nub, smirk palpable on his handsome face. “Jealous that they won’t be your kids?”
“I’ve had enough of this!” Face burning, Shiu’s making to turn around- fuck. And maybe run off to the nearest private corner he can find just so that he can jerk off—
“But I bet it turns you on, too.”
He pales, facing Toji once more. “Wh-what did you just say?”
But the bull hybrid merely graces him with a smug smile as he’s pulling out of your sloppy cunt once more- and oh, was it such a sight to see the way you were yowling and clawing onto Toji’s toned hips in an attempt to get his thick cock to fill you up once more.
He doesn’t listen to a single plea, yet jerks his head towards you cockily.
And the farmer- oh, he might just be the worst of the bunch. Because he doesn’t listen to a single rational thought in his brain telling him to simply leave—not before he’s taking step- by jerky step- towards your two sweaty bodies. As if hypnotized.
Shiu’s knees barely even hit the ground in front of you before Toji’s clasping onto the blushin’ back of his head and shoving the other man’s face between your legs.
Nose-deep.
And he’s shocked- he’s letting his eyes snap open- he’s letting just a singular wad of your candied slick end up on his tastebuds and he’s fucking addicted. Just darting his slick tongue all over just to gulp and gulp up your heady taste.
The prominent line of his nosebridge shoves directly between your swollen, sensitive pussylips and you gasp—“O-oh my god, Shiu you’re really-” Before those gasps turn into pants by the time that Shiu’s grabbing onto either side of your thighs and pulling you deeper onto his face. He hangs open his greedy mouth and engulfs your pussy whole, long tongue startin’ to slither inside-
“Ah ah- has your momma never taught you to share?” Toji’s rudely nudging the other man over and slotting himself between your legs as well. Dipping his even lengthier tongue out to just slide-slide-sliiiide around your wet outer pussy, “Should know that m’doing you a favor.”
“Sh-shut the fuck up-” Shiu didn’t even want to breathe let alone talk to this bull bastard. Fishing the tip of his tongue in and out of your quivering hole - fuck, he has half the mind to giggle at the way you clenched oh-so-cutely around him - while Toji drags your throbbing clit over to suck.
His scarred lips mercilessly pinch your nub, making you writhe and moan. “Oh, get over yourself. One taste and you’re in liplock-”
“I hear you slurring on her pussy as well.” The farmer grumbles out.
And your mate, Toji, is just about to open his mouth to snap back as well- when you clasp both their perspired scalps and press both of them to your treacly pussy. “Sh-shut the fuck up!” They snap their bleary, pussydrunken eyes to you at the sound of your trilling voice. “Can the both of you just focus on- ngh…this instead of arguing?”
And then they look at each other.
“You heard the missus.”
“Anything you say, girlie.”
And it’s the only warning you get before they’re both delving right back in between your puffy pussylips and lavishing you with both tongues- just the most sensual sensation.
Those ridged textures slipping and sliding over your pussy and deeeeep inside, they thrash against each other and fight for claim over your wet pussy. They fork out your entrance - both at the same time - and Toji moves over to press on your clit while Shiu tries to fuck you with his tastebuds. They lap over each other and makes Toji moan into Shiu’s mouth as well as your cunt—
Well…Shiu thinks, as Toji starts fingering your slippery hole open now with two of his rude digits, murmuring something about ‘two at once’.
.
.
.
Later - much, much, much later - it’s Kusakabe that calls Shiu’s bull and cow hybrid farm after a few days without hearing from his friend.
“What—that damned bull hybrid giving you trouble again?” The man asks, chortling into the speaker at the other farmer’s pointed silence. “Or is it your pretty cow hybrid? The one you favor so much?”
“Well…” Shiu starts, about to head into the barn once more- he could hear your pretty moans start up already, and he’d be damned if he let that bull have one over him. “You could say they’re giving me more than just trouble…”
What was that saying again?
If you can’t beat ‘em…join ‘em.
♡ NANAMI KENTO - HibernATE.
Name: Nanami Kento
Age: 27
Hybrid type: Ursus arctos horribilis
Height: 7’6+
Weight class: 1000kg+
Other notes: Mated specimen (to a human, for more see…) is currently in the process of hibernation, though stands to be on the brink of waking up soon. It is speculated that due to his age, size, and rut cycle that the specimen will be rather famished after his arousal. Quite, quite famished.
It’d started off as a little rumble in your living room, a little quake.
You’d been lazily browsing some magazine, barely even registering the words that seemed to slug across the page. They muddled up in your mind and took on the form of Nanami Kento - the days were too long with your hybrid husband in hibernation.
Given, it wasn’t that he’d completely disappeared into a deep sleep; hibernation was a period for Nanami to slow his metabolism, to lower his body temperature, to snooze most of the day away.
He wasn’t here to spoil you with breakfast in bed like he usually would, nor was he here to kiss you goodnight, to read to you with his deep tone, to have a hand on your back whenever you were out in public, to fuck you right—
You’re squeezing your thighs together with a slight squirm, “F-fuck…” Setting aside the magazine that was now the furthest thing on your mind. “God, how I miss-”
And then you’re catching the slight movements in your living room.
It started off subtle- the glass of water atop your coffee table was tremoring, the carpet spread out on the floor seemed to be moving. You’re frantically looking around and realizing that the couch you were seated upon was slightly jumping.
Something seemed to be thud-thud-thudding closer—
“My love.”
It’s a thick, husky tone enough to make every hair upon your body stand on end.
You almost don’t recognize whose voice it is - simply that ruined. You almost start to feel fear creeping down your spine. You almost don’t want to turn around-
“My love, I think m’in rut.”
Less than a few minutes later and you find yourself on the fucking floor beside the couch - your back against the carpet, your legs strung high in the air. Your calves thrown easily over Nanami’s shoulders as the shoves your wet panties to the side and bullies himself in—
No preparation. No foreplay.
Just pure fucking need.
Your thrash against his hovering body and find yourself absolutely, needily helpless-
“O-oh, fuck.” And you never thought you’d see the day where you hear Nanami fucking Kento’s voice crack…Lips quivering as they drop open, eyes damn near bulging out of his skull- he feels his thickened tip lodge at your hot entrance and gasps. “Fuh-fuck, it needs to go in- oh, fuck.”
A single inch inside and he’s spurting out wettened wads of cum- already! It makes the process slightly easier, with the thick glaze of his sap easing up your entrance.
“You’ve already- oh, ngh.” Just for the words to be fucked out of your lungs. You’re almost stupid on his cock already, feeling your tastebuds sizzle with saliva at the incredible stretch. “You must be sensitive. It’s already going in, Kento-”
“It needs to-”
“But-”
“It needs to go in, it needs to go in, it needs to go in.” But it’s the only thing he can repeat, like a mantra. Like the only sentence his dazed mind knows right now.
You clench and his bear-like ears flinch- making him claw onto your body even further as he plants a rude half-thrust.
“P-please—” Body hunching into yours. Blond happy trail scratching your clit. A slick line of drool cascades down one corner of Nanami’s lips, long lashes fluttering as he’s starin’ down at your core. “Need it to go in- want it- have to-”
“Have to?” You gasp.
“Have to.” He’s groaning, eyes wild and widened as he’s pumping out half-ruts here and there and stuffing himself deeper by the minute. And at one point Nanami’s tilting his head and gnawing down on the tender side of your neck, “N-need to…”
You’re sure it almost looks like you’ve been thrown to the bears - literally.
He’s not even halfway inside but you swear it feels like he’s opening up various crevices and hidden spots inside you that you never even knew you had—fuck, had he grown larger since before the hibernation? “You’re- hck! Kento, you’re acting like such an-” And the way you say his name makes Nanami’s pupils dilate even further, until there was almost no honey-brown within his eyes. “-a-animal…”
“Am- n-need it to go inside- s’not worth it if I can’t feel myself at your- throat-” Could barely even string together three words to make a sentence. Could barely even breathe if he wasn’t fully inside you. Nanami’s rude tip bulges its way deeeep inside of you, and you can feel him throb-throbbing away at your very lungs. “Don’t let me down, pussy.”
Your eyes widen, “Y-you’re talking to…”
“Don’t tell me you can’t take it all- oh.” His hoarse baritone quivers at the mere thought, “That would just b-break me-”
Back arching into the perfect curvature against the carpeted floor, Nanami’s reeling his toned hips back and just plunging—feeling your body start to squirm away, and one of his paws come up to clasp your neck and draaag you right back down his cock. And he’s never sounded more serious in his entire life, “Don’t. Move.”
“Y-yes, Kento.” You could feel your cunt throb even harder at his words. You recall his words from just earlier. “Think you might just break me first.”
And what you didn’t expect was for that mere answer to make the blond man’s lips quirk up into a smile, for him to scoff out a chuckle. Something looks feral in his gaze, “Yes and?”
Fuck- your gentleman of a husband was never like this.
Usually, he took his sweet time with foreplay. He’d stretch that tight orifice of yours oooooout with his fingers. He’d tease your entrance all tender and ready to take his massive cock- but right now he was pinning apart your thighs with both of his hands and ramming his entire veiny length in.
But now he’d awoken from hibernation and he wanted you—badly.
And he was just so strong - expected, for a bear hybrid - that you were absolutely no match for the way that Nanami choked his hand ‘round your throat and manhandled you down to meet his length. To meet every thrust.
He’d slam his thick girth all the way until your poor, elastic hole was stretched thoroughly around his girth and could take it no more. Letting his cum splosh! around a little before drag-drag-draaaagging his veiny length all the way back out and inching back in again, puffing apart your innards to his swollen length- you start to claw at his muscular forearm and Nanami’s tightening his hold with a growl. “Oh my- please, Kento—”
“Inside-” He snarls, his pure need making his bass sound even more rugged than usual. And every time he speaks, Nanami punctuates it with a ruthless stroke deep inside, “Was thinking about you- all day- All night. All the time. Missed the feeling of this tight hole begging me to fuck her, and when I woke up I was just feeling s-so…” It’s then that the bear hybrid slowly looks down at your pussy, all engorged open with his incredible length. He gulps back saliva, “-hungry.”
And as if it wasn’t enough to have you at his complete and utter mercy, he was now smacking one hand down on your clit and brushin’ his thick thumb down that favorite nub of yours. “Couldn’t stop thinking of her. Couldn’t stop wanting to be inside her. Couldn’t wait to fuck her all full and make her carry my cubs- bet you misssed me, ngh, inside-” He hiccups, “Will this finally make it go inside- Inside, inside- inside.”
You’re bawling your throat hoarse, seeing stars burst behind your closed eyelids. And you distantly feel Nanami lean his head down and lick away the salty tears rolling down your cheeks- his rough tongue utterly parched.
“It’s- it’s already inside-” You gasp at some point, straining your throat to get the words out. Just so full with his thick, throbbing shaft speared inside of you- now, Nanami’s simplest movements left him hammering at your cervix. “Kento s’already inside-”
“Oh?” As if he hadn’t even realized, simply way too gone on you. He looks down at the sinful sight between your legs - your cunt all stuffed and quivering as you struggle to take him - knot awaiting at his base.
Something that you already know doesn’t bode well for you.
He looks at you intensely, “I’ve just come out from hibernation and next- o-oh, y’know what comes next for bears, right, my love?”
You could barely even think right now, “What?”
“Breeding season.”
♡ GETO SUGURU - Eight inches hands
Name: Geto Suguru
Age: 28
Hybrid type: Octopus vulgaris
Height: 6’2+
Weight class: Undetermined.
Other notes: Whilst the breeding habits of this particular type of marine hybrid has remained a mystery for quite some time, it seems that this specimen is overtly eager to receive his mate in this state of rut. Faintly sweet pheromones. Strong tentacles (may perhaps take to use them during breeding with human mate, see page…)
“Eight inches—” Geto’s drawling out in his sing-song voice, letting pure lust seep into his words and leave them all hot and heavy against the column of your throat.
He pumps his puckered tip against your g-spot and snickers, “Eight inches here-” And then once more against the door to your womb, “Eight inches there—” Before he’s biting down on the side of your neck and rutting up into you so hard that you swear you can feel him there. “Eight inches heeeeere-”
It’s enough to leave you shivering in this filthy full nelson that he had you in.
To leave your heart racing at the sound of his mean tone, cunt clenching as if you’ve just been shocked with countless volts of electricity. And of course Geto Suguru notices.
Of course he’s arching a singular brow at the sensation of your clingy walls, of course he’s slowing his hips down to look at you with an expression of mocking surprise. “Oho?” He pants out, nose crinkling at the bridge as he tries to keep his words composed. “What’s that? Are eight inches not enough for you, gorgeous?”
And to emphasize his point a little more, his thiiiick shaft is plunging so deep between your pussylips that you see the pale skin ‘round Geto’s pelvis burn bright red. You were just coming down from your nth high of the night, and even the slightest brushes against your throbbing nerve spots left you keening. His creamy tip swirlin’ the back of your cervix and making it feel like he was right at your throat—
Your eyes snap open in pure shock, breath catching in your throat as you realize just what he’s hinting at. “No! No it’s not-”
“No?” A thrill was snaking down your body- and so were a few of Geto’s looooong, flexible tentacles. They were a shimmering shade slightly lighter than his hair, with slimy tips that wrapped around both of your ankles and wrenched you open.
That was one and two. Three, four, and five slide all down the your quiverin’ sides- a sixth one of his tentacles slide-slide-sliiiiiding up to flick your throbbing clit in punishment. “So no my cock isn’t enough for this slutty pussy?”
“I didn’t mean that-”
Silenced immediately by one of his slimy tentacles spankin’ down on your pussylips, which makes you keen with the sting. To which you hear Geto’s chuckle pant out against the side of your face- god, this full nelson was the perfect position. He could see the way his vein-covered cock was shoveling in and out, he could see everywhere his textured tentacles were gliding down, he could see those lewd expressions you were subconsciously making- “Ah well, what can I do? This pussy’s just tooooo greedy f’me, I just don’t think my poor cock can keep up…”
You’re whining at the pure pout that you could hear in his tone, “But-”
“Oh, wait.” As you’d expected, he’s cutting you off with a higher octave- as though a sudden epiphany had just dawned upon him. And his voice dips down to what’s almost a purr…“I have an idea.”
“Fuh-fuck—” Your spine arches into the perfect curvature as his slick-covered tip slips between your pussylips and starting smearin’ your cunt all open. Those tendrils of his were just so dexterous, and you’re squirming at the slimy texture of him prying apart your most tender parts.
Swirling and swirling in circular motions to tease your hole.
Just the sheer squelching sounds of it was enough to nearly drown out his husky voice, “Eight-” His words quiver as if he was on the verge of chuckling. “E-eight inches-” Punctuating that little phrase with a thorough strike at your sponged cervix, the rounded circumference of him leaving a bruise. “Eight kisses.”
You babble, “Wh-what do you mean eight ki—oh!” Your question’s immediately being answered by a rhythmic thud-thud-thud at the very back of your cunt.
They’re just so distinct. Mentally, you count about-
“Eight- eight, see?” Geto’s humming out, his Adam’s apple bobbing against the back of your sweaty scalp. “Eight kisses at that cute cervix. Did ya count them, gorgeous?” And you notice that he sounds even more breathy than before, you notice that the air’s sweeter- as if Geto was losing his grip on reality with every slight slip n’ slide of his tentacles rovering in past your cunt.
“I-I…” Your mouth waters, spittle drivelling down either side of your lips.
Seeing this cute expression on your face, he chortles- hell, he cranes his head down to lick at the glittery sap on your face. “Heh- of course ya didn’t count. Too fucked dumb, are ya?” He was just making fun of you, and he was fucking you like he hated you. “But that was eight—whoops!” Another dull skid of his rotund tip leaves you gasping, “Nine now.”
“Oh, please-” Babbling away stupidly- you were feeling pleasure from so many different points that you didn’t even know what to do with yourself. “That’s just not fair.”
“Wait till ya learn about what’s not fair, heh.”
And before you can stupidly say anything more, Geto has all his slithering tentacles cascading down your body. Two still wrenching your jittery legs open no matter how much you kick and thrash, two more holding onto your thighs, two more wrapping around your tits and twiddlin’ with your hardened nipples, and-
“Eight tentacles.” The hybrid rasps out, and at that very moment you’re feeling the final two of his tentacles plunge straight between your pussylips.
Rutting. Squeezing. Bullying and bullying their honed tips inside and fucking you at a rapidfire pace that matches his hips- “Eight inches. Eight kisses—” A few more bashes at your cervix that leaves you dumbfounded, “Eight tentacles, heh- ya really do have such a fuckin’ spoiled pussy, gorgeous. She just keeps wanting me stuffed all deeeep and haaaaard and kissin’ that cute cervix. She can’t get enough of me so she keeps suckin’ me in for more.”
“Oh- oh, please.” You struggle to stare down at where he was positively ruining your pussy from underneath, the curvin’ lines of his tentacles sticking in and out of you at a blurring pace. Starting off slooooow at the tips that wriggle their way inside- before he’s suddenly shoving most of his prolonged lengths in and repeating the sultry motions. “It just feels so good, is that really only two tentacles?”
“Yes—why?”
“It just f-feels like more-”
“More?” And you instantly know where you’ve made a mistake- Geto’s voice was breathy with excitement. “You want more, gorgeous?”
“That’s not what I…” You’re simply so stunned that you don’t know what to say. Simply so fucked stupid that before you can even think up a response, Geto has two of his tentacles probin’ apart your pussylips—and a third one lifting off of your hips to veer downwards and suction on your clit.
So hard that you’re seeing complete stars—
“Aaaaand look at that-” Geto sighs, “Yer cumming already, gorgeous. Look what happens when you ask for more.”
Begging, you’re tearing up with the sheer intensity of your orgasm. “Mmm, please-”
“Mmmore?” You couldn’t believe the audacity of this hybrid- and the way he was lifting off his second tentacle from your hips. He now had two of his tendrils sliding inside your entrance, gliding and massaging against his red-hot cock.
And then two more that tugged and teeeeased your poor clit to no end, setting two of his suction cups on top to give you lil’ sparks of your high. They were rolling over circles. Rolling over hearts. Matching the ministrations on your tits.
Geto made you jolt with even the lightest touches that to your overstimulated body really didn’t feel light. “Seriously- am I the one in rut or are you the one in heat?”
“Maybe both?” You dazedly ask, “I don’t even- hck! know-”
“Can’t think, can you? S’my cock leaving you speechless? My tentacles making you all stupid?” He tuts, almost sympathetic - though you knew that in reality it was far from that. “You wanted to be fucked so baaaaadly by me and now you’re getting it, aren’t ya?” At your gurgling mess of responses, “S’alright, gorgeous, I just need to know your answer to this one question.”
Yet another one of his slimy tendrils lifts off of your body - this time from your tits - to manhandle your head to the side to face him. “Yes- fuck!”
“Clean that mouth out before you speak t’me.”
Before you know it, the tentacle wrapped around your neck slips its slimy tip into your mouth and dangles it wiiiide open for him to spit inside. “There- all better. And now would ya like to hear what my question is?”
And obviously that’s going to pique your interest, even with the pistoning sensation from all angles driving your pussy wild. “And th-that is?”
“What do you think about eight kids?”
♡ CHOSO KAMO - HOTEL FUCK-SYLVANIA
Name: Choso Kamo
Age: ??
Hybrid type: Desmodus rotundus
Height: 6’4+
Weight class: 80kg - 90kg.
Other notes: Subject is mated, interestingly it seems that this particular vampire bat hybrid has the ability to replace his appetite for blood with other bodily fluids. Particularly in relation to the bat’s mate, it seems that this ability takes effect twofold during times of rut.
“Don’t take this the wrong way…” Utahime asks, and by the worried expression on her face you know she means well. It’s only when you nod your head in a gesture for her to continue does she finish her sentence- “-but isn’t it, like, scary being with a vampire bat?”
You tilt your head in confusion, “What do you mean?”
To which the purple-haired girl looks around the bustling café the two of you were in before continuing with her impromptu interrogation, “Aren’t you scared you’ll wake up one day and he’ll be drinking your blood or something? I don’t know, I’m just a little worried…”
“Choso would never do that.” You’re crinkling your nose in amused distaste, even the thought of your lovely boyfriend doing such a thing is enough to make you want to laugh out loud.
“But how does he fulfill his cravings, though?” She swirls around her drink a little, as if expecting it to turn into said crimson liquid any moment now. “Because I read somewhere that their cravings are quite strong, especially during a…”
“Rut.” You finish for her, “And yeah, I suppose they are- but Choso always satiates his cravings with something else.”
“With what?”
“Um, alternatives.”
“What alternatives?”
Well…
.
.
.
“P-please…” Choso groans, voice trembling at the back of his throat. And the sounds he’s making right between your legs are plain sinful- they almost make you shy to hear.
Just squelch after solid squelch! being wrung out of your sloppy cunt any time he’s pumping his tongue between your folds. Pistoning in and out, in and out, in and out at a feverish pace.
And he’s not shy about getting it all filthy with your clingy wads of sap. Letting his ridged tastebuds swirl all ‘round your tender channel a few times, fishing around for those sweet wads of white before gulping them down. Choso was kneeled at your feet and practically worshipping your pussy with his mouth—
“Th-think that’s all there is, baby-” Gasping, your hands claw atop your boyfriend’s scalp. With a feeble push, you’re trying to get his spit-slicked mouth to detach from your cunt. “I think m’done-”
“But I’m not done.” Choso stubbornly says. And even from here you can see the way his pinkish, swollen lips wobble out of pure frustration where they were sucking on your clit- moved past lickin’ up your sweet, sweet juices to toy with your pussy.
And as if on cue, you swear you could hear the rumble of his hungry stomach—bat hybrids always did get extra famished during ruts, the doctor had told you.
She’d also warned you that Choso might just suck your pussy dry if given the chance - and that seemed to be exactly what he was hellbent on doing. With his puckered lips spreading even wider open and pokin’ his tongue away into your hole, he’s slurping up any and every remnant of his own cum from mere minutes ago.
Your slick glazes all down his chin, creating a shimmery effect that made him look completely gone. “Look- look at her.” Eyes wide, completely crazed. “M’just starving for your pussy, baby—dying. I could eat her out for breakfast, lunch, and dinner and it still wouldn’t be enough.”
Arching your cunt against his face with a whine, “S-so you’re just never gonna be full, Choso?”
“Hmmmm…” He pretends to think - or, at least, you think he’s pretending to. But with how utterly ruined he was from your honeyed sap left you wondering whether Choso Kamo was actually serious about brainstorming the answer- taking a single lick at your folds and nodding. “Yeah- never gonna be full, baby.”
“You seriously needed to taste me to get your- hck! answer-” You’re panting, sheer disbelief in your tone. “You can’t be serious, Cho-”
“Dead. Fucking. Serious.”
And then he’s wriggling his crowned muscle back between your pussylips and makes you cry out, “Oh p-please—” Two doughy pads of his fingers pryin’ aside your folds to help him get to where he wanted to taste the most.
Now he’s fingering you as well as makin’ out hotly with your pussy. Just the cushy edges of his digits searching for your sweetest spots, “S’the sweetest dessert I’ve ever tasted- the most delicious fuckin’ thing. Tastes so good. Tastes so fuckin’ good.” He murmurs wetly between your lips, long lashes fluttering as your velvety walls clench ‘round his tongue. “Always so good f’me trying to suck m-my tongue back in- never met a dessert that wanted to be eaten so badly.”
“Choso!” You’re gasping, “I’ve never heard you speak like this-”
“I’ve never been this hungry.”
But he wasn’t just hungry right now - he was absolutely starving, and eating you out like just so.
Almost experimentally, you’re pushing on Choso’s sweaty scalp and watching as he scrambles to grab onto either side of your thighs and crush himself nose-deep between your folds. “No- no no no no- don’t even joke like that, baby.” All serious. His two fanged canines peek out from underneath his upper lip, and it makes you shudder. His bat-like wings flapping behind him- “Not yet. Please not yet. You can’t seriously expect me to remove myself from your p-pussy when she’s creaming down my tongue like this—?”
“Well, I was just thinking…” You mumble, “Wouldn’t it satiate your thirst more if-”
He nips at your clit with his canines, “More if?”
“If you filled me up again, Cho?”
And then he’s peering up at you with those deep, dark irises of his - giving absolutely away in his expression. Mouth stalled. Spit drivelling. Throat bobbing with a singular gulp—
Before Choso’s on you in an instant- hands at your throat and pinning you down onto the bed, meaty thighs pushing your own apart and letting him lodge his red-hot cockhead-
“F-fuck-” Just a singular smooch at your precious cunt and Choso’s already throwing his head back in ecstasy. Back arching. His wings bolting out straight. He can’t stop himself from dribbling out in pearly beads of white that cling n’ drip down the front of your cunt, smearing it all in a glossy white shade. “Fuck- oh my god-”
“You’ve cum already?” You’re marvelling at the sticky warmth that fills you up from the inside, splatterin’ the bed around you.
Something that Choso quickly takes care of by roverin’ his greedy fingertips down and pressing them inside—in and in and in. In sinful synchronization with the constant thwacks! of his heavy base against your puffy folds, just fucking those webs of seed even deeper.
His fingers are stretchin’ aside your tight orifice and somehow managing to squeeze in—your eyes damn near bulge out of your skull at the sheer stretch of him fitting in something else. Something you hadn’t even noticed until now - the prominent knot at his base- “Mhm, told you m’ravenous for ya.” It’s a rounded ring of flesh that bullies into your entrance, shutting it tight. “S’like a never-ending feast, I get to eat your pussy out until she doesn’t know what it feels like n-not to have my mouth on her.”
You’re gasping at the feeling of him plugging your hole - feeling that lump at your very throat. “B-but how can you eat me out when you’ve got your knot in for now? Not to mention just how deep you’re fucking your cum in…”
“Ah, no worries, baby~” Choso hums, and his cock twitches inside of you. “It’s more fun that way.”
.
.
.
The next time you’re meeting up with Utahime at your usual lil’ café it’s with Choso in tow.
Hand-in-hand.
Shoulders brushing shoulders in your booth.
Positively glowing after his last satiated rut.
You’d say that the meeting went quite smoothly, to be quite honest. Utahime had gotten over her initial trepidation over his hybrid species, and the conversation was flowing smoothly.
So smoothly, in fact, that at one point in some dramatic recounting of her last mission- Utahime’s hitting her fork off of the table top. Brushing aside your motions to pick it up, she herself ducks under the table to get that traitorous silver utensil.
Still continuing with her story, “—and then my dear Shoko came up to me and said-”
From above, both you and Choso look at each other in confusion as your friend abruptly stops in the middle of her story.
From below, Utahime felt the soul escape her body the second she accidentally caught a glimpse of your legs, of the short skirt that covered none of the…rabid bite marks littered all across your thighs. She didn’t even have to look too hard to see the way that inched up the inner parts of your legs, closer and closer to…
When she finally resurfaces, the two of you notice that she seemed rather…pale.
You start, “Is everything alri-”
“I think I just figured out what you meant by ‘alternatives’.”
♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Fire-BENDER!
Name: Ryomen Sukuna
Age: Don’t ask.
Hybrid type: Genitive draconis
Height: 9’7+
Weight class: 10000kg - ??
Other notes: It is quite rare to come across a dragon hybrid specimen, and this particular one is an exceptional example of the male dragon. Approaching rut it seems that horns have grown larger, wings have grown stronger, and overall body composition has become much more imposing - all likely in the hopes of seducing his mate, the human (further research see page…)
It must be noted that this particular subject is rather temperamental, and this attitude may pass over to the hormone-fueled rut, as well.
You were arranged to be married to Ryomen Sukuna.
It was not a deal that you had a hand in making, nor one that you had the right to reject.
It was the union between two clans, the marriage between human and myth, the collision of two worlds once thought to be forever separated. And thanks to the ingeniousness of your clan’s elders, it seems that those power-fueled daydreams are now becoming a reality.
And there you were, the scapegoat of it all.
They didn’t care whether you were killed by the infamous King of Hybrids - that had no matter to them, they’d still have the fame of being the first in hundreds of thousands of years to successfully barter a marriage between human and dragon.
Which might have been why no one showed up to your wedding day.
It was quite the solemn affair, if you do say so yourself. Decent, perhaps, at best. The stiff routine of pledges to one another that should have been romantic passed by you in a blur, until ultimately you were bowing to the pink-haired hybrid before you and realized that you were bowing to your husband. To each other. Husband and wife.
Until you found yourself steeped in the most important tradition of all—the wedding night.
You sat on the farthest corner of a bed far grander than king-sized - fit for a dragon, you supposed. And as you waited for your new husband to do something - anything - you contemplated just what that hulking figure of his might mean for you in bed-
“Before we do anything, should you so wish-” He gruffs out, turned away from you so you didn’t have to see his expression. Though, you could make out the faint dusting of pink at the very tip-tops of his ears, “-you should know something.”
“Yes, anything.” You answer, brows furrowing.
“I’m in rut.”
It comes out so matter-of-fact, and you find yourself speechless for a few seconds.
A few seconds in which Sukuna finds himself exhaling, “Look- I understand if you don’t wish to consummate our marriage tonight, I won’t take fuckin’ offense if-”
“Apologies for interrupting-” Though you didn’t feel a speck of remorse, “-but I was actually about to say that I’m glad for the fact.”
He turns to you with hungry eyes.
You’re taken right then and there on the edge of the expansive bed, the velvety sheets drenched in all your sappy juices. Sukuna smacks! down both his plush, reddened tips between your pussylips (dragon hybrids had two, it seemed) and grins at the way your cunt tries to sluuuurp him up- “Are you sure yer a human, brat?” He’s asking for the nth time this past hour.
“F-for the last time-” You gasp, eyes shuttering shut at the teasin’ feeling of his matching cockheads gliding all down your quivering orifice. “-I-I am—fuck.”
Only for your mouth to fall into such a sultry oh! of pleasure, eyes rolling all the way to the back of your skull once Sukuna engulfs one of his tips inside of your cunt. That curve at the end of his shaft was just delicious, opening up your dewy wet entrance in ways you didn’t even know were possible. Stretchin’ out that adorable hole of yours so wiiiiidely around the dragon’s cockhead that you swear you’re seeing stars—
“And yer soooo fucking sure?” Sukuna scoffs, crimson eyes rolling. “How m’I supposed to know that’s not just that pussy talking, huh, mama?”
Before you can bite out a response, his slick-glazed tip was raaaapidly pumping in and out of your core. Not even waiting for you to get used to the sheer primal stretch, not even waiting for himself to get used to the suctioning sensation of your soaked walls.
Sukuna’s using one tattooed hand of his to hold onto your pretty throat and smack! you back down onto his honed v-line. The ridges of his muscles against your thighs driving you absolutely wild, “Because there’s no way- fuck, takin’ me so well like this…” His bleary eyes lock down at the spread-apart lips of your cunt, the way you spurted out just a bit of gloss with each ram. “You’ve gotta be some type of- of pussy hybrid, or something-”
“P-pussy hybrid?” You gape, and for a moment you’re not sure if you heard him correctly with the way that Sukuna was shovelling his achin’ erection into you so hard that you eardrums pop!
“Mhmmm—” He’s confirming, a primal waver in his voice. You can only watch as the King cups the second of his stacked cocks- whilst one was rudely plummeting in and out of your cunt, the other was being guided by him to knock against your cute asshole. “Tell me the truth, brat- are ya seriously just some fuh-fuck- sort of hybrid sent to ruin me? Maybe a succubus?”
“I’m not a- ngh.” But you’re being cut off by the feeling of his incredible second girth kissin’ your other hole. Just barely stretching out the outer rim before pulling back as if nothing had happened.
“I’ll give those cute holes of yours what you want if you give me the- ngh, truth.”
“But I am, I am!” You’re crying out, your spine arching against the soft mattress as he starts striking at your cervix rhythmically. As if he was trying to fuck the answer out of you. As if he was trying to plug up your shattered throat with all his gluey wads of pre.
You reach your hands out to claw at Sukuna’s sculptured deltoids and he groans, “Mhmmmm—that can’t be.” He’s looking down at you seriously, a pink-colored brow raising with a scoff. “How else are ya gonna explain how this is the s-strongest fucking rut of my entire life?”
“I can’t-”
“And what about the way I just can’t- stop- fucking you-” Two of his roughened palms hold onto your waist tight and fill up your geysering orifice, pressing you down onto the plush mattress as he drills into you.
The pistoning of his hips was rude on your cunt- but utterly teasing against your backside. Simply stretching on your hole with his flared tip, “The way I can’t stop listening to wh-whatever this pussy wants- fuck, and the king never bows to anyone.” Sukuna scowls, entire face furrowing into an expression you couldn’t differentiate between fury and ecstasy. “The way I can’t stop fucking you- fuck. The way I know m’gonna me dreaming of this pussy tonight and the night after, and the night after. The way—” He puffs out a heaving breath, smoke curdling out of him. “-the way I think m’gonna fucking die if I stopped fucking her- you’ve got me hypnotized. You’ve got me addicted. You must be some- some succubus hybrid. Some pussy hybrid-”
“I’m just human.” You’re blatantly replying, and you squeeze your slurping walls in emphasis-
Only for that single act to nearly break Ryomen Sukuna.
He damn near collapses on top of you, with his sweaty forehead pressed into the crook of your neck. “Y-you lie.”
“I do not-”
“How else are ya gonna explain how I c-can’t even-” Even as he says it, Sukuna’s scaly wings flinch and flutter open. The feeling of your cunt clamping down on him was just too fucking good- “-control my fucking pheromones anymore?”
As the saturation of spiced wine grows stronger in the air, your lungs attempt to gulp the addictive scent down. “M’seriously just a human-”
“And you’re trying to tell me that the King of Hybrids has fallen before a mere human?”
You open your mouth to answer—but your new husband’s merely shutting you up with a vulgar few pumps that leave you gasping for air. Your eyes shuttering as he thrusts you into a high in absolutely no time.
One you didn’t even expect.
One you didn’t even know was coming.
One so strong that it makes his crimson wings snap! open and tremble sensitively at the squeezing of your cunt.
The white-hot pleasure rips through your body and leaves you whining, mouth falling agape. “Oh- oh my god, you’re such a—” Without warning, you clamor a hold onto Sukuna’s red horns- gripping onto it for dear life as the orgasm bubbles in your veins. “-fuck, keep going, Kuna.”
“As you wish, ma’am.”
And you don’t know who’s more surprised by the response that falls out of Sukuna’s mouth - your or him.
But almost as if to make you forget just what he’d said, he’s roverin’ his puckered tip down the side of your walls- easily locating your g-spot and ruuuuubbing down that particular area with his veiny shaft. “Y-your ears did not hear that.” He rasps out, something seething in his tone. And before you know it, his second dribblin’ tip eases its way through your second hole - both swollen cocks massaging your channels in one go. So big that you could almost feel them rub against one another- “If I g-give you both, you did not hear a thing, brat.”
Still trembling from your last high, you mime zipping your lips shut. “Didn’t hear a thing.”
“That’s my wife—”
.
.
.
After your honeymoon was over - a trip through the serene countryside, as organized by Sukuna who willed that a proper honeymoon was only befitting for a marriage that had been less than planned from your end - you were met with a surprise once you arrived back home to the Sukuna Estate.
Your attendants had informed you that you had guests waiting in the meeting hall. And who you might have assumed to be your friends, or perhaps your parents, had been none other than…your clan’s council.
Here to check whether the King of Hybrids had left you alive until now, you presume. Though not out of concern for your health.
They glanced over you and straightened immediately at the sight of Sukuna following just behind.
And while you hear your husband’s tail swish in annoyance behind you, you’re raising your hand to him as a gesture that you could handle it. Because, of course, you could handle it.
“My dear-” You’re starting off, barely looking in the direction of the elderly men seated in the room before you. “-would you mind letting the house staff know to prepare some tea for our ah- guests?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
How you relished in the look on their faces.
♡ INO TAKUMA - Hop to it!
Name: Ino Takuma
Age: 21
Hybrid type: Oryctolagus cuniculus domesticus
Height: 5’10+
Weight class: 75kg - 85kg.
Other notes: Unmated however seems to express interest in a companion close to him (human?) Even for a rabbit hybrid, subject seems rather…exciteable in relation to his rut. Healthy pheromones, above-average stamina, exceptional desire to breed.
“A-am I pregnant yet, pretty?” Ino somehow manages to babble through his teeth, barely even audible through the constant wrecked moans and the bubbles of spit that just keep on leaking out of his mouth.
At least…until you’re swervin’ your gummy cunt back down his length and it makes Ino throw his head back with a whine. Just the prettiest noises you’ve ever heard, it’s enough to make your pussy throb a few more times before you’re speeding up your pace down his slender hips.
Watching as the bunny hybrid below you squirms n’ whimpers with each gyration, “P-please-” He gasps out wetly through his tears, and you feel both of Ino’s hands come up to plaster upon either side of your hips. Cute nose twitching, “Please, I need to get- ngh, I don’t think it even works like that but…”
“Oh, Taku—” You’re cooing out fondly- and the mere sound of your voice was enough to make his bulbous tip empty out a few more wads of cum. “I don’t think it works like that, baby. I don’t think you can get pregnant-”
“But how do we know if we don’t try—?” He insists- and you swear his adorably bush-like tail must be quivering by now. He’s just so pussydrunk right now that logic wasn’t even an existing concept in his brain right now.
His rut had him completely stupid. Your pussy had him completely stupid.
All creamy and soaked with how many times he’s emptied his balls out into you by now.
And as if to prove his nonsensical point, Ino’s lifting you slightly - just slightly, he couldn’t possibly handle anything more - off of his achin’ hot cock. It makes your entrance leak out in the webs of Ino’s high, so much of it streaming down your inner thighs and making the man below you gulp at the display.
You certainly couldn’t forget that rabbit hybrids might cum fast—real fast, but they sure did have the stamina to last all night. Especially Ino.
Almost as if he was hypnotized, he’s reaching a hand up and thumbing along the mess that he himself had made. Pushing just a few of those creamy white dollops inside of you, mouth gaped and awestruck at the sheer amount of volume that’d been stuffed in your cunt. “S-see?” He breathily whispers, more to himself than anything. And Ino had such long, silken ears the same chestnut shade as his hair - they raise in alertness as they look between your glistening folds. “See- there’s just soooo much, sweetness, ngh- s-surely at least one drop of this s’gonna end up with me pregnant?”
“Oh, Taku—ngh.” Back arching as his hips start funnelling upwards into yours.
Providing your greedy cunt with so many inches- Ino was just the perfect thickness. Not too slender so that his flared edges hit each one of your tender spots, not too thick so that he didn’t have to wait for you to get used to the size before fucking you hard- fast-
“S-see how much I’ve filled you up?” He’s gurgling out, his nose twitching with keen interest. “See how much of my cum is dribblin’ out? I keep fucking it inside and it’s still- ngh, coming out-” Pleading with you. Begging to you. The air grows even more saturated with his sweet sunflower-like scent, “So s-surely…don’t tell me we can’t, pretty. I’ve cum inside you so much that I feel pregnant—”
You have to stifle a giggle - he was just too cute. “Baby, it won’t end up with you pregnant-” Enough to make his entirely pretty face become crestfallen, long ears drooping with sadness. Aw, it was just too cute. “-but it might just get me pregnant, if that’s what you want…”
“Y-you?”
Nodding, “So hop to it- if that’s what you want.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
And it only takes a split-second for him to brighten back up like a Christmas tree - ears upright, eyes shining with interest, the reddened tip of his cock jolting once, twice, thrice—
“So it’s you that gets pregnant- it’s your pretty pussy that I get to fill up until she- hah, can’t take anymore.”
Before he’s thumpin’ it straight against the back of your womb and cumming with a wet squelch! Again. The noise rings in both your eardrums and makes Ino groan at the realization that he was filling you up again-
“Oh- oh, I’ve…” His spit-slicked lips fall open, and a blush grows even stronger on the tips of Ino’s ears. “I’ve cum again- that must be a sign of good luck, right, pretty?” Urging his hips up even higher, “A sign that you’re gonna give me the cutest son?”
You’re shivering at the sultry sensation that you don’t think you’d ever get used to, “Y-yes, baby—”
“Baby—oh.” And you could practically see his dark pupils take on the form of hearts at the very sound of you calling him that. Though- in Ino’s pussydrunken brain, it’s registering as something else entirely. Whispering, “We’re gonna have a baby- m’gonna fuck a baby into you.”
“You’re so- mmm, insatiable.” You gasp, placing each of your palms atop his pecs to balance yourself as you start roverin’ your hips back down.
And you might think that meant he would be happy about the way you start to bounce down his toned pelvis- you might that meant he would be happy to see you trying to fuck his gluey white wads even deeper. But no—Ino takes one look at the way you were bouncing out sultry figure-eights on his erection, and he’s immediately tightening his hold on your hips.
He doesn’t care if he’s leaving nail marks on your poor skin for daaaaays- “N-no, don’t do that, sweetness.” Gritting through his clenched teeth, Ino pins your hips down whilst he bucks his ravenous hips into yours. Taking control now, he pecks and glides his puckered tip against your cervix- “Like you said, I’m s’pposd to be the one fucking you pregnant- me. So let me feed this pretty cunt my cum, m’kay? She must be so tired from r-riding me by now…”
“But I like it, Taku—” You’re insisting, and yet you still let him slam his parched tip inside your every tight orifice like he was addicted to the feeling - and he was.
He couldn’t last even a single second without slide-slide-sliding along your g-spot, the curved edge of his cockhead swabbin’ into every crevice and making the ivory mess inside you splash about. His pinkish lower lip juts out in a pout, “Well you can’t do that when you’re all round n’ glowing n’ pregnant- m’kay? S’gonna tire you and the baby-”
“Oh, I see…” You can’t stop the smile from spreading across your lips.
And Ino can’t stop the way he’s fervently nodding, “S’my duty, m’kay? M’your mate now-” Before you can register a single thing, he leans over and gnaws down on the side of your neck. “-so you hafta let me do all the w-work to get you pregnant okay?”
“Yes, Taku, ngh.” Dazedly nodding, “And what do I do until then, hm?”
He thinks for just a few sultry seconds, before his ears twitch with the idea—“Pull on my ears, pretty, s’gonna make me cum even faster.”
.
.
.
And the next time that Ino’s heading to Dr. Shoko Ieri’s clinic, it’s with you hand-in-hand. And she doesn’t quite need a check-up to diagnose what that rounded belly of yours meant.
“Congratulations.” She’s droning out, and you glimpse her thin brown brows raising behind her clipboard. “You’re pregnant.”
And before you two can celebrate, she deadpans.
“You might want to sit down to hear just how many you’re pregnant with.”
♡ GOJO SATORU - Cuffin’ season.
Name: Gojo Satoru
Age: 28
Hybrid type: Vulpes vulpes
Height: 6’5+
Weight class: Got offended when asked.
Other notes: Unmated subject, particularly prideful in his ability to woo though remains at odds with the object of his affections (interestingly, a rabbit hybrid—for more on the dynamic see page 2). Warned against displaying rut symptoms due to the sheer intensity.
Exceptional coat. Exceptional looks. Also note that subject is an exceptional pain in the ass.
“Felony tax evasion.”
The fox hybrid’s face drops at the words that escape your mouth- so infuriatingly handsome, he looked better when he was taken by surprise instead of insulting you.
As a new patrol officer, you’d been assigned to investigate this particular fox hybrid in Tokyo, known for swindling people out of their hard-earned money. And you’d found him, of course - you just didn’t think that he’d be so attractive.
It’d taken six minutes of him flirting with you to realize that you were a cop.
“$200 a day, 365 days a year since you were twelve- that’s two seconds, so times 20 which is $1,460,000 owed in taxes—I think.” You’re reciting those numbers off of the top of your brain, as if it was absolutely nothing. And the more you spoke the more flabbergasted the man before you looked- oh, how it made you smile. “I mean, I really am just a dumb bunny - but we are good at multiplying.”
“H-hey now-” Gojo rasps out, looking down at the cutesy police officer that he was slowly but surely learning not to underestimate. “-let’s not get too ahead of ourselves. In my defense, I’m in rut!”
“Ruts don’t make you commit tax evasion.”
“…”
…”
“You got me there.”
“And according to your tax forms, you reported- oh! Zero.” You falsely gasp, flipping through your clipboard. Before looking up at Gojo with a bat of your lashes, hands reaching for the cuffs on your belt. “Unfortunately, lying on a federal form is an offense punishable with up to five years in jail.”
“Aw, c’mon!” He seethes, “What’s a man gotta do to make a dishonest living ‘round here-” Though at your deadpan look he shuts up, “Fine- what’s something else that’ll get you to let me off easy, sweetheart?”
“Let you off easy?” You question, slightly leaning backwards.
And his eyes sweep down every corner and curve of your body, “Yeah- let me off easy.”
.
.
.
“Fuh-fuck—” Gojo’s breathing out into the crook of your neck, nostrils flaring as he drinks in the saturated scent of your pheromones - so fuckin’ sweet that he can feel his mouth start to water at the idea of simply taking a bite.
Shaking his head free of that particular day dream, he shovels his reddened cock into you with such explosive fervour. “Fuck, this is the perfect pussy. This is the perfect lil’ cunt to suck me up- ngh, are all bunnies this cute when they fuck- or s’it just you, sweetheart?” Just thud after thud! of his rotund tip.
It was the perfect curvature to leave your toes curling, and your teeth gritting at the rhythmic pleasure. You’re looking over your shoulder at the fox and struggling to keep your voice steady, “Just sh-shut up and fuck me, Toru.”
“Mmm, s’what I’m doing, silly bunny.” He rolls his eyes, knees digging even deeper into the cushion of your backseat. “And shit—” You’re clenching instinctually around him and you can feel his entire sculptured body behind you shiver- “-shit it just feels so fucking good.”
“God, I don’t know how but you’re hitting all the right spots.” You’re whimpering, feeling his glazed tip satisfy carnal itches within you that you didn’t even know you had. He was just so big that he was easily rub-rub-rubbing his swollen cockhead over your g-spot, and then thrusting right in to massage you with his prominent veins.
“Heh, you’re welcome.”
It’d taken mere seconds to drag you to your police car and bend you over in the back - mere seconds.
And mere split-seconds for Gojo to take a niiiice long look at the globes of your ass and decide he wants to give your ass cheeks a good squeeze. And decide to grab onto the fluffy tuft of your tail and pull you to him—“H-hey! Where’d you think you’re pulling-”
“Your tail, duh.” He’s unapologetically replying, “Honestly- I can’t tell if you really are just a dumb bunny or m’just fucking you dumb.”
“You’re too f-full of yourself.” You scoff.
“Too f-f-f-full of myself?” Gojo dramatically whines, quite a few octaves higher than what you actually sounded like. And as if he’s irritating you on purpose (he most definitely is) he’s tuggin’ on your sensitive tail once more and letting his cock’s hilt spank your drivelling hole. “Actually- I think it’s you who’s full of me, sweetheart.”
Your jaw drops at the sheer audacity of him, “K-keep talking and that won’t be the case any longer-”
“Oh, so I’m gonna be full of you—?” He’s cooing out, and you’re not sure whether these were the fox hybrid’s genuine pussydrunken babbles- or he was simply driving you wild. And succeeding. “You’d be the first to peg me, you slutty bunny, but I wouldn’t be ngh- opposed-”
“God, do you ever just shut up-” You’re bursting out, followed almost immediately by an elongated keen shattering from your throat. It was at that very moment that Gojo had decided to lurch his hips backwards and sloppily smooch at your throbbing g-spot, so hard that your entire body goes limp.
His fox-like ears twitch in the direction of your lecherous sounds, as if he was committing them to memory. “It seems neither you nor this pussy can…h-heh.” As if on cue, the background noise of your cunt seems to increase in volume.
And Gojo’s feeling his ruby-red tip twitch at the lecherous noise, like he couldn’t get enough of it. He’s rutting and rutting and rutting until his swollen shaft is feeling all red and raw- until he shakes with the phantom shivers of your walls clenchin’ all around him and he still wants more. “And I can’t help it- just can’t fuckin’ help it.” He’s the one falling apart on your gooey wet walls, and yet you’re the one being teased. “Just love chattin’ with this pretty pussy- you’ve got such a sweet pussy, bunny, she loves me too m-”
“Satoru, if you don’t shut up then m’banning you from this.”
“Please no, ma’am.”
“Then do it.”
He swishes his tail in excitement, “And what you want me to do is—?”
“Fuck me properl- oh!”
You didn’t have to ask him twice.
Because within mere moments, Gojo has his hand tightened around the puffy part of your tail and disrespectfully hauls you down to meet his hips. As if you were nothing but a ragdoll, he targets a few hits to your cervix that leave you bawling from both pairs of lips.
“Dangerous thing to ask a fox.”
Blinking back the tears in your eyes, “Wh-what do you-”
“Don’tcha know what you just asked, lil’ bunny?” Gojo questions, and it’s in a strangely…quieter tone of his voice. One that felt more primal. One that sent shivers down your spine.
When you’re not answering quickly enough for him, he’s slithering his second hand down to tease between your pussylips. That softened index and thumb pinching your clit until you’re seeing stars, “Don’tcha know what sly, cunning foxes do to c-cute lil’ bunnies like you?”
“Wh-what-” Even though you damn well knew- you were swerving your hips down onto his plump cockhead like you were addicted to the stretch of him in your deepest insides.
“Foxes eat bunnies like you.”
You shiver, and Gojo’s increasing the pace of his veiny shaft pummeling inside of you. He’s striking your spongy cervix one-two-three times a single second, he’s twisting his fingertips over your clit. He’s hauling you straight back down onto him using your tail—and acting as if he wasn’t just driving you maddened.
“And espeeeeecially for a fox in rut- oh, you’re just lucky I don’t wreck this pussy until she doesn’t remember anything but the feeling of my cock- ngh. M’one of the good foxes, see?” Dollops of Gojo’s saliva strike the arch of your spine- and you’re realizing with a jolt that he was drooling at the feeling of sloppily gliding his length between your pussylips. “You’re lucky I haven’t carved my name out into the back of your cervix…yet.” Dangerously, his puckered tip throbs at the very back of your pussy. “Fucking lucky I don’t shut you up by filling you up with so much of my cum that you feel it at your throat.”
“F-fuck-” You try to lurch fowards on instinct, and Gojo casually manhandles you down as though it was nothing. Hand still gripped firmly ‘round your tail-
“Don’t make me pull on those ears, too, bunny.” He’s hissing, hips growing just as slopping as his slurring was. Gojo flicks his fingers on your clit and you almost don’t hear his next few words, “Fuckin’ lucky I don’t- mmm, breed you until you hafta carry around a child with my name- hey.”
“What now-” You bite back at his sudden change of tone at the end.
“If I did knot you—” And you swear you feel the slowly-thickening hilt of his cock pulsate readily against your pussylips, “-d’you think we’d make foxes or rabbits, heh?”
“Shit, are you pussydrunk-”
Gojo fucks that shocked impression clean off of your face, feeling the slightest twinges of something sizzling at the pit of his stomach. “Just kidding—!” Muddying his mind. Making him actually think of certain possibilities as he pumped you full of milky white- “Unless…”
And then you’re both stumbling into your high.
Your taking you over in a startled flash, Gojo’s making him shake and quiver and quiver and gnaw down on the damned inside of his cheek to stop himself from gnawing down on you-
“Fuck-” The fox hybrid streams out a slew of sweears underneath his breath, blue eyes clenching as he rides out the blissful waves on your cunt. It was making his toned body shake, it was making him hold onto your cute body like a lifeline as he emptied out his swollen balls into your cunt.
You were just so damn soft around him that it felt as though you were molding to each of his sensitive twitches. Your velvety walls fluttering around him as Gojo fucks you through both of your highs, “How’s it feel- being fucked by the bad fox- hah, having him cum inside you?”
Toes curling at the white-hot pleasure of your own high, it ran through you like electricity. “So good—I feel so f-full inside.”
“Mmm, shit.” He marvels at the way that only makes his overworked divot start streaming out in even more gooey wads of cum. It fills you up until it’s overspilling, and Gojo’s blushin’ tip can only endlessly swab those gluey ribbons into your tiniest of orifices. “Fuck fuck fuck- bunny, we really might just make ngh- the cutest kids ever.”
“Please-” You gasp, your hips reaching a feverish point simply papping! down onto his. You’re turning your teary face over your shoulder to look at him, “Please- w-won’t be able to do that if you don’t knot me, Toru…”
And oh, fuck—
Gojo Satoru thinks he could’ve creamed all over again right then and there.
Gojo Satoru thinks he just does when - with a rough few thrusts - he somehow manages to sink his incredible girth inside. All the way till the hilt. All the way till the rounded swelling of his base manages to bully inside- stretching your cunt out so wiiiiiide that all you can do is let out muffled mewls.
You gasp once his knot finally plops! inside- hot and thick and throbbing inside of you. You squirm, “Fuck- fuck, s’too fucking big. I should arrest you just for this.”
“Oh yeah-” And to your surprise, Gojo simply responds by letting go of your tail (finally!) to duck a hand down onto the carpeted floor and bring up his discarded button-up. Fishing for something in his front pocket-
Your jaw drops once he shows you an official police badge.
“Gojo Satoru, undercover agent, at your service, bunny.”
♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - RIDE ‘EM, COWGIRL!
Name: Higuruma Hiromi
Age: 30’s (approx.)
Hybrid type: Equus caballus
Height: 6’6+
Weight class: 900kg - 1000kg.
Other notes: Sleek coat. Intelligent. The mature type. Subject has revealed that he has not been having regular ruts, with the last one being over ten years ago and yielded with no mate. Likely obstructions of stress, hormonal imbalances, and pure chance. Symptoms of upcoming rut persist.
It must be noted that, even for a horse hybrid, the specimen is rather…well-endowed. And considering the fact that the subject’s mate is of the human type (with no prior experience in horse hybrid ruts)—further investigation must be conducted as to the procedures during the upcoming rut period.
It had started slow at first.
It had started without Higuruma even realizing.
He’d simply come back home from his law firm one day, exceptionally tired with no particular reason as to why. Somewhat feverish. Somewhat out-of-breath. It couldn’t have been the extra cases he was taking on (Higuruma had trudged through even higher workloads than this before, relatively this was a piece of cake), it couldn’t have been any illness (he visited the doctor, of course, and she’d said that there was absolutely nothing to worry about). But Higuruma had been worrying far too much that he hadn’t even had the time to flip through his medical report as thoroughly as he might have liked.
And it’s only because of you—“Hiromi, have you read through this?” Asking him in that sweet voice of yours one night. With his medical report propped open and your lips slightly parted as you swept your eyes through it.
To which he’d absent-mindedly looked up from one of his law books - Higuruma had dismissed himself from work early today, for the first time in his life. Though he was determined to get himself back in the office by tomorrow- that burning heat underneath his skin be damned. “Pardon, my angel? I don’t believe I have.”
“Well, you might want to open up another book then.” You’re grinning at his visible confusion, “A book of baby names.”
You’ve never seen the stoic man so stunned, gulping. On the verge of being ruined. “E-excuse me?”
“You’re experiencing pre-rut, Hiromi.”
It’s less than two hours later when your husband has you splayed out across his chiselled front, sweat-slicked abs moving and massaging against your back at a fervent pace as he fucked you from underneath. Such a filthy full nelson.
Your drivelling maw agape. Your legs spread wiiiide open. Your pussylips being funnelled with his thickened, throbbing inches from behind—he barely even has to try to give you particularly rough thrusts that make your mouth water.
It was the only position in which Higuruma’s absolutely massive length could fit inside you - the perks of having a horse hybrid as a husband, you guessed. And while you weren’t used to Higuruma’s entire size on a normal day, attempting to take him during his rut?
Oh, you were hopeful.
One look at his furious erection, and you knew that you won’t be making it out of this alive. He was much, much larger than usual - with his blushin’ tip almost doubling in size whenever he pumped himself viciously inside, with his girth looking almost engorged right before he was tunneling himself in. Red-hot. Veins pumping.
Higuruma was just so damn hard right now that you swear you can taste the creamy, salted-caramel flavor of his precum welling up at your throat—and you whine as he’s pulling out.
“Oh, fuck-” He’s whispering gruffly into the crook of your neck, with the edges of his canines grazing down your soft throat. Now, you knew that Higuruma wasn’t exactly the predatory type- but it still made a carnal part of you shiver to feel him leer down at your pulsating pussy. “Fuck, you don’t know how hah- how fuckin’ long I’ve wanted to fuck you like this.”
Your eyes widen, “You- you have?”
“Mhmm—not that I wouldn’t fuck you right even w-without my rut.” Murmuring- almost as if to prove his point, his rounded tip ends up lodged at your cervix with a wet thwack! “I would. I did. But with this I get to…mmmm, fill your cunt up until she remembers my name and nothing more. I get to smack at her pretty lips whenever she talks back.” Right on time, the tight curve of his ballsack ends up slamming against your treacly front. “I get to watch myself go in and out, iiiiiin and out- fuckin’ lucky that you have a horse hybrid for a husband, sugar, I get to see when exactly m’kissing that cute cervix of yours.”
“P-please-”
And one of his wide hands cascades down the front of your core, with his palm splayed out right above your womb. Higuruma was just so damn big that his thick, cylindrical cock was outlining a damn tummy bulge on top of your womb. “See- there. Mwah.”
One hit bruising your gooey pussy.
“And there again.”
Two hits.
“And again.”
Three hits.
He continues through a raspy groan, “And th-that’s not all…”
Before you can question that little sentence of his, his rude palm glides over where the globular edge of his cock was chasing your cervix. And Higuruma wastes no time squeezing his doughy palm doooown on that lil’ bump (well, not quite little…).
“-I get to fuck you like I disrespect you, my angel.”
“Oh my-” You don’t even have the words. The coherent trains of thought. With either of your feet planted flatly on the bed, you’re jerking your limbs up and attempting to move—whether back down onto him or away, you’re not quite sure. “Holy fuck, I didn’t know that you could fuck like this-”
“Ah ah-” And before you can even register it, Higuruma loops one arm ‘round your waist and draaaags you right back down onto his hilt. Feeling the scruffy trail of his hairs tickle the back of your cunt, feeling him press his bulbous tip against the back of your pussy and bruise—“-n’ just because you didn’t know doesn’t mean you can- ngh, run away.”
“I wasn’t trying to-”
“Good.” Higuruma’s cutting you off with his stern tone, striking your gooey pussy so hard that you see damn stars- “Keep it that way then.”
And then you can’t move, you can’t even squirm.
He had one hand wrapped around your body, and the other flicking at your throbbing clit. The crowned edges of your husband’s fingers tease all down your slobbery slit, squeezing between your pussylips and pinching your cute clit.
And no matter how much you’re jolting in his arms, you’re completely at his mercy.
Because not only is Higuruma ploughing into you like an utter madman, he’s holding you down to him. He’s holding you hostage on his cock that even breathing means you can feel him plunging straight into your lungs. “Isn’t it greeeeeat? You know exactly when m’getting into that womb of yours- see- see, giddy up, girl, you can see it. Heh…you’re shaking, angel.”
He’s tightening both hands on your body so that sparks of white-hot pleasure rush across your body and make you mewl—
“What did I say?” He draaaaags on your throbbing clit until you cry out, ramming faster and faster and faster. An incredible pace, three direct strikes to your g-spot and your cervix per second. “Don’t run. Simple as that.”
“B-but-” You’re reaching blindly above your head- somewhere beyond you to hold onto for dear life. But the only thing your greedy fingertips manage to grab onto are the sweat-stained locks of Higuruma’s hair. It seems even that’d grown longer during the transformation of his rut, silky and flowing. “-but then what am I even supposed to do-”
“Why, that should be obvious-” He breathes, scorching hot from somewhere behind you. “-all you have to do…”
You’re yelping as he bucks his hips just a little higher, further splaying you out helplessly on his lap. On his swollen cock. On his honed thrusts.
Higuruma furrows his dark brows as the hand restraining your restless body slides down your front and presses pointedly on your cylindrical outline. “All you have to do is wait until I can fuck this cute bump—” Making you whine on the way he massages that spot, sending pleasure bubbling twofold at your voice. “-into a bump tha’s even bigger, hm?”
“You mean-”
“Yes.”
He was going to fuck that particular spot at your channel - your womb - until he’d fucked a baby into you. A baby bump is what he meant. Perhaps it’s this realization, perhaps it’s simply the way he increases his cadence, but you’re hurtled into your high and Higuruma fucks you right through it-
Mouth agape.
Toes curling.
A kaleidoscope of tears formulating behind your eyelids as he hits each peak precisely- somehow pinpointing each tender patch of nerves with his flared tip. “Mmm—” As you keep on riding your wave of bliss on his slick-glazed length, he feels himself empty out in wadded pre. Puddled out way deeply into the back of your cervix- “-I might hafta call out of work tomorrow…”
.
.
.
The questions hit you the instant you’re stepping into the office.
Well, given that it wasn’t your office so the questions were bound to come had they not known you - but more so because of the fact that everyone here already knew you.
Higuruma Hiromi’s wife.
The boss’s wife.
They crowd around you with concerned expressions - and you couldn’t blame them. Had you not been the one to let Higuruma know of his little ah- condition, then you would have been worried as to why your workaholic husband wasn’t at work, either.
The queries are thrown at you—
“Oh my god, he’s dead-”
“He’s not dead, he’s likely sick-”
“The Higuruma Hiromi I know would be at work even on his death bed.”
“Maybe he got caught up in a really tough case-”
“Is he really okay, ma’am?”
“Calm yourselves, calm yourselves.” You’re placating your husband’s coworkers and employees with an open smile.
All you’d come here for was to drop off the letter of your husband’s temporary leave- though he’d begged and begged for you to stay. Though, to be quite honest, you think if he had his way then you wouldn’t ever be able to leave the house.
But you did - no matter how much trouble you had…walking.
You answer them, “Hiromi is alright, you could say he’s just a little bit ah- out of sorts, at the moment.” Before anyone can rush to any tragic conclusions, “He’ll just be taking a much-needed break for a few days before coming back better than ever, I promise!”
There’s a sigh of relief, before-
You think to yourself, “Oh, but he might need some considerable time off in the future.”
“Time off?” One fresh intern squeaked out amongst the burst of whispers, “I-I mean- we obviously would love for our boss to have some for himself! But what sort of time off, ma’am?”
“Ah-” You smile, “Paternity leave.”
A/N. HYBRIDSSSSSSSSSSSSS- Canva broke down like twice while making this.
Kyle, the "pretty boy" of the group, is used to being looked over by most people.
Sure, he's pretty, but next to ghost or price? They've just got this...allure. bigger than him, beefier, most people go for them. He can't blame them, they're just larger than life and make him look small in comparison.
Then you come sauntering up, running a hand along Gaz's forearm with a smile "hey there, big guy."
Big guy. Not pretty, or handsome, or gorgeous. You chose to define kyle by the one thing he's determined the others have him beat at. It's through sheer willpower that gaz stays calm enough to not make a fool of himself.
To his side, price deflates, obviously having thought you'd be talking to him. You don't even notice, too busy eyeing the way Kyle's sleeves hug tight over his biceps.
Biceps that end up locked around your head while he rails you into the mattress. He manhandled you easily, switching the position as he pleases. God, you knew you were right choosing him with the way he forces your thighs open and draws out mutliple orgasms with just his tongue.
˖ ࣪૮₍ 𝓑.𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐉𝐎 𓂃 ⭒ bounces you on his cock cause he thinks you're stupid
⤿ ꒰ he's always seen you as nothing but a stupid, pretty girl :: college au :: slight angst :: smut :: mean satoru :: degradation :: f. oral :: fingering :: riding :: dumbification :: overstimulation ꒱
꒰ BULLY NERDJO ꒱ has been your worst nightmare since highschool. belittling you, shaming you, making you feel like you were the dirt beneath his shoe. unlike other bullies, he didn't have to push you around and slam you into lockers to make your gut twist. no, all he had to do was toss you a smug smirk over his shoulder whenever your mathematics exams were handed back. his red-circled A++ crumpling your hopes into your measly B-. you thought things would be different in college.
꒰ BULLY NERDJO ꒱ was nothing if not dedicated. to his valedictorian status and his relentless belittling. hell, the second you stepped foot into your quantum physics class— he scoffed. then grinned as you reluctantly made your way to the only empty seat. . . right beside him. “my, what's the bimbo doing here? daddy's money must be doing wonders.”
꒰ BULLY NERDJO ꒱ rolled his eyes as he passed by you in the hallway and saw you talking up a male classmate. muttering under his breath, “no wonder your grades are falling.” only to send you a wink when he catches your crestfallen look.
꒰ BULLY NERDJO ꒱ was not impressed when you were both paired for an assignment together. he actively tried to protest against the professor, but soon settled for it. before you knew it, he was in your dorm and grumbling over a textbook. shuffling over his laptop with an cooing tongue click and condescending head tilt. “aww. you really don't get it, do you?” then grinned mockingly as you shook your head with big eyes and a trembling lip. “silly girl. looks like I'll be carrying us again.”
꒰ BULLY NERDJO ꒱ rolled his eyes when you came to him all teary because— he was right. your grades were slipping. hell, you never wanted to be in astrophysics. your parents forced you. and now here you were with a crumpled up paper in your hands and crying to your bully, begging him to tutor you. he agreed with slumped shoulders and a groaning, “fine, whatever. just don't waste my time.”
꒰ BULLY NERDJO ꒱ was awful the entire time, no matter how hard you tried. he'd explain things that your brain couldn't process and lecture you when you wouldn't get it. and when he had enough of your tears? he snatched your chin, thumb swiping below your eye. “stop it.” he muttered. “stop it. stop crying. you can't help that you're stupid, now can you?” and when you didn't? well. . . let's just say he was inclined to make you cry in a more pleasurable way.
꒰ BULLY NERDJO ꒱ soon enough, had you sprawled over the table. textbooks and stationary strewn all over as he thumbs on the soaked fabric between your quivering thighs. creating a perfect friction against your trembling clit as you bucked and whined into him. another hand dwarfed your inner thigh as he pressed it down, keeping you wide open with a grinning, “now what did I say? keep those legs open for me. you can do that, right? not too dumb for that?”
꒰ BULLY NERDJO ꒱ took great pleasure in making you pay for wasting his time. he sucked on your clit through your panties until they were drenched with his saliva and your messy cum. allowing you to grip his hair only when he yanked your panties down and latched his mean mouth onto your pussy. licking, suckling, ruining you on his tongue while he glared at you from over his glasses. “suuuchhh a slut,” he huffed, fogging his spectacles. “no wonder those grades are slipping.”
꒰ BULLY NERDJO ꒱ fingered you open with two long digits. lips fixed to your clit and assaulting it with his tongue as he surged you through yet another sticky orgasm. fingers slow, steady and cruel while his mouth was ravenous. switching between your slit and throbbing nub. doubling down when you clung to his hair and whimpered out his name. he wouldn't admit to how hard he throbbed when you whined it like that. instead he dragged his tongue from your slit to your clit and groaned into the stringy mess.
꒰ BULLY NERDJO ꒱ leaned back into the chair and let you bounce on his cock. it was the least you could do after wasting his time, right? “stupid girl,” he huffed, swallowing a groan as he tweaked on your nipple. grinding his hips up filthily. once, twice, until you were clinging to his shoulders and humping on him like a pitiful slut. he clicked his tongue and watched as your pussy stretched. squelching and squirming all over him. “maybe you should just drop out, huh? drop out and be a slut for a living. you're better at it.” as he spanked! your ass. then gripped tight.
꒰ BULLY NERDJO ꒱ who toppled you over him when your bounces became weak grinds. hands fisting your ass and squeezing you on his thick cock as he pounded up until you were whining and drooling in his ear. leaving behind a gooey ring of cream round his base and bubbling your webbed mess all over. his name was on your lips like a lewd prayer. desperate pleas and whines as his pubic bone caught your clit with every rough slam. “just can't do anything right, can you sweetheart? fuck, stupid little girl with the prettiest pussy.”
꒰ BULLY NERDJO ꒱ lost himself when you creamed him for the nth time that day. a hand fixed to the back of your neck as he rolled his hips up in jagged thrust. making you whimper. squirm. and all he did? grin. “there ya go. that's it. take it. fucking. take it.”
꒰ BULLY NERDJO ꒱ was not prepared for your lips crashing onto his. for your hands clinging to his hair and your whines spilling into his mouth. and most definitely not for your spluttered little: "I love you— I love you satoru— toru, toru I love you, I love you!”
꒰ BULLY NERDJO ꒱ had to leave the second he'd cleaned you up and tucked your sleeping form into bed. stumbling back to his dorm, slamming his door shut. he white knuckled the counter and hunched over. heart pounding in his ears as he replayed your words over, and over again. I love you. I love you satoru. he scrubbed a hand down his face. cupped his mouth and nose as he breathed heavily, then looked into the mirror. hair disheveled. eyes puffy. no, no, no no no no no. what the fuck did he just do?
11.2k words of porn with plot. Going out with a bang for Halloween (pun intended). Everyone’s hands are everywhere and I may or may not have lost track at some point. M’bad.
It was honestly Graves’ fault.
Not that you’d admit that to him, the man’s ego was insufferable enough without adding fuel to the fire. But the chain of events that led to… well, everything that came after, started with him and his inability to keep his goddamn mouth shut.
Though to be fair, he couldn’t have known what he was triggering. He didn’t understand the fundamental truth about Task Force 141, the thing that everyone who worked with them learned eventually:
They were the most competitive bastards in the entire British Armed Forces.
It wasn’t just legendary; it was documented. There were actual incident reports.
Like the time Soap and Gaz had turned a simple training exercise into a competition over who could complete the obstacle course faster, which escalated into them sabotaging each other’s runs, which culminated in both of them dangling from a cargo net they’d somehow set on fire. Price had made them write individual apology letters to the base commander. They’d turned that into a competition too, each trying to write the most eloquent apology. Price had been furious. The base commander had been confused. The letters were still pinned to the bulletin board in the rec room as a warning to others.
Or the time Ghost and Soap had disagreed over the best way to clear a building, and instead of just… discussing it like normal people, they’d run the same scenario seventeen times in a row, each trying to beat the other’s time by mere seconds. They’d only stopped when Price physically removed them from the kill house and threatened to make them do paperwork for a month. Even then, Soap had muttered that he’d been winning.
Even Price wasn’t immune. There was a pool table in the officer’s lounge that no one was allowed to use anymore after Price and a visiting colonel had gotten into an increasingly intense game that lasted six hours and ended with the colonel’s transfer request. Price maintained he’d won fair and square. The indentation in the wall from where the cue ball had been hit with unnecessary force suggested things had gotten heated.
They competed over everything: marksmanship scores, mission completion times, who could do the most push ups, who could hold their breath longest, who could spot the enemy sniper first, who could drink the most without getting drunk (that one had ended poorly for everyone), and once, memorably, who could go longest without speaking. That had been a peaceful week for you, right up until they’d all broken at the same moment and started arguing about who had technically lasted longer.
Ghost had won that one by pointing out he never spoke much anyway, so it hadn’t been a challenge. Soap had thrown a boot at him.
The thing was, it made them excellent soldiers. That competitive drive pushed them to be faster, sharper, better than anyone else. They held records across multiple bases. Their mission success rate was unmatched. When Task Force 141 was assigned to an operation, people breathed easier because they knew it would get done.
But it also made them absolutely insufferable when they decided something was a competition.
And they decided everything was a competition.
Which brings you back to Graves.
The rec room was unusually crowded with Shadow Company temporarily stationed at the base. You’d been dealing with Graves and his people for three days now, and while professionally everything was running smoothly, personally you were ready for them to leave.
Graves had a way of taking up space, his Southern drawl filling every room he entered. He wasn’t a bad guy, exactly. Just… a lot.
You were refilling your coffee when he sauntered over, that trademark smirk firmly in place.
“Well, well. Didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, leaning against the counter in a way that was probably supposed to be charming.
“It’s my base, Graves.”
“Phil, sweetheart. We’re past formalities, aren’t we?” His eyes gleamed with something that made you tense. “Especially considering.”
Across the room, you felt the 141 paying attention. Price had looked up from his report. Soap’s conversation with Gaz had died mid sentence. Even Ghost had shifted slightly in his seat.
You should’ve known then. Should’ve recognized the signs. The 141 had a sixth sense for potential competitions, and they were already alert, already watching.
“Considering what?” you asked, keeping your voice level even as warning bells started ringing in your head.
“Oh, come on now. No need to be shy.” Graves’ smile widened. “Though you weren’t particularly shy that weekend in Berlin, as I recall. Great even.”
The room went very, very quiet.
You sighed internally. Of course he was going to do this. Of course he was trying to posture and mark his territory. “That was two years ago, Graves.”
“Phil,” he corrected again, clearly enjoying himself. “And I gotta say, you’re looking even better now than you did then. If you ever get tired of the 141, Shadow Company’s always recruiting. I’d be happy to conduct your… interview process.”
The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.
Oh no.
You saw it happen in real time: Soap’s hand tightening around his mug, Gaz going unnaturally still, the way Price’s report crinkled ominously in his grip, how Ghost’s head tilted in that particular way that usually preceded someone having a very bad day.
“I’m good where I am,” you said firmly, trying to de-escalate. “Thanks.”
“Your loss.” Graves straightened, addressing the room now, playing to his audience. “But between you and me, and well, everyone else here” he stage whispered conspiratorially, “totally worth the operation debrief we had to sit through the next morning half dead from exhaustion, if you know what I mean.”
Oh no.
“Graves-” you started.
“I’m just saying.” Graves straightened, clearly enjoying the attention. “But hey, you know where to find me if you change your mind. I’ll make sure to clear my schedule. Maybe we can recapture some of that Berlin magic.”
He winked- actually winked- and sauntered off to join his team.
The silence he left behind was suffocating.
Finally, Soap broke it. “Berlin?”
You shrugged, returning to doctoring your coffee. “It was a joint task force operation. Two years ago, like I said.”
“And you…” Gaz trailed off, eyebrows raised.
“Yes.”
“With Graves.” Soap’s voice was flat.
“With Commander Graves, yes.” You turned to face them, meeting each of their stares head on. “Is there a problem?”
Price folded his paper with deliberate precision. “Did we say there was a problem?”
“You’re all looking at me like I kicked a puppy.”
“We’re just… processing,” Gaz said diplomatically.
Ghost’s voice cut through, dry as bone: “Didn’t take you for someone with poor judgment.”
You snorted. “It was one weekend. Casual. And for the record, it was perfectly good judgment at the time. Mission was over, we were both consenting adults, and I have no regrets.”
“No regrets,” Soap repeated, something dangerous in his tone. “About Graves.”
“Should I?” You challenged, feeling your own temper stir, offended as they questioned your life choices. “I’m pretty sure I’m allowed to have a past.”
“Course you are,” Price said, but his jaw was tight. “Just didn’t realize your past included…”
“Included what? Men you don’t like?” You crossed your arms. “Grow up.”
“How was it?” The question came from Ghost, and everyone turned to stare at him.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” Ghost leaned back in his chair. “How was it? With Graves.”
You could’ve deflected. Probably should have. But you’d never been good at backing down, and something about their collective judgment made you want to defend yourself even if a voice in the back of your head said you were just going to poke the bear.
“It was alright,” you said with a shrug. “Better than most, if I’m being honest. Actually…” you paused, taking a sip of coffee, “probably one of the best I’ve ever had.”
The reaction was immediate and visceral.
Soap’s mug hit the table with a thud. “You’re joking.”
“One of the best?” Gaz’s voice had gone up half an octave.
Price’s knuckles were white where they gripped the report.
Ghost had gone preternaturally still.
You blinked at them, genuinely confused by the intensity of their reactions. “What? You asked.”
“One of the best,” Soap repeated, standing now. “Graves. Commander Philip Graves, who can’t shut his mouth for five seconds and wears those ridiculous sunglasses indoors-”
“I didn’t say he was perfect, I said the sex was good. There’s a difference.”
“Better than-” Gaz cut himself off, glancing around the room. They were still in public, even if most people had cleared out when the tension started rising. “Better than most?”
“Are you actually offended right now?” You stared at them. “This is ridiculous.”
“It’s not ridiculous,” Soap said hotly. “It’s-it’s-”
“It’s Graves,” Price finished, and somehow that explained everything.
You looked between the four of them and suddenly understood. This wasn’t about you having a past. This was about their egos. Their pride. Their absolute inability to accept being second best at anything, especially to someone they considered inferior.
And especially not at this.
“Oh my god,” you said slowly. “You’re jealous.”
“We’re not jealous,” four voices said in unison, which was probably the least convincing denial in military history.
“You are.” A laugh bubbled up despite yourself. “You’re actually jealous of Graves.”
“Not jealous,” Ghost corrected. “Competitive.”
“That’s the same thing!”
“It’s really not,” Gaz muttered.
Soap had started pacing. “One of the best. One of the bloody best. What does that even mean? Top five? Top three?”
“I’m not ranking my sexual encounters like a mission debrief, Johnny.”
“Why not?” he shot back. “Seems like useful information.”
You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Can we not do this here?”
“Do what?” Price was genuinely curious now.
“Have a breakdown because I slept with someone and thought they were good.”
“It’s about-” Gaz gestured vaguely. “Standards. You have standards, right? And if Graves meets those standards, then what does that say about-”
“About you?” You finished. “Nothing. It says nothing about you because you’re not in competition with my past.”
The look they exchanged said otherwise.
“Don’t,” you blurted out preemptively.
“Don’t what?” Soap asked, voice too casual.
“Whatever you’re thinking. Don’t.”
“We’re not thinking anything,” Gaz said, which was absolutely a lie.
You knew that tone. You’d heard that tone before, right before they’d decided to turn a simple reconnaissance mission into a competition over who could get the most actionable intelligence. It had been effective but exhausting.
“It was two years ago,” you said firmly. “It was fine, it’s over. Can we please move on?”
“Fine?” Soap pounced on the word. “You said fine? But Graves was great.”
“It was an exaggeration.”
“Was it though?” This from Ghost, who had actually stood up now. “In my experience, Graves is many things, but he doesn’t usually undersell his own accomplishments.”
You stared at him. “Are you defending Graves right now?”
“I’m establishing accurate parameters.”
“Parameters for what?”
The look they all exchanged was brief but telling. In that single moment of silent communication- the kind they’d perfected over countless missions- you saw them come to some kind of collective decision.
“Nothing,” Price said, but his slight smile suggested otherwise. “Just thinking it’s interesting, that’s all.”
“What’s interesting?”
“That you considers Graves some of the best you’ve ever had,” Gaz said thoughtfully. “Makes a man curious about the standards being applied and if someone can raise them.”
“Oh my god.” You could see where this was going now, clear as day. “No. Absolutely not.”
“No what?” Soap asked innocently. Too innocently.
“Whatever competitive insanity you’re all cooking up right now, the answer is no.”
“We’re not cooking up anything,” Price said. “Are we, lads?”
“Nothing at all, Cap,” Gaz agreed.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Soap added.
Ghost said nothing, but his silence was somehow the most ominous of all.
You pointed at each of them in turn. “I know how you people think. I’ve seen you turn loading supply trucks into a competition. You’re not turning my sex life into another one of your challenges.”
“Your sex life?” Price raised an eyebrow. “No, love. This isn’t about your sex life.”
“Then what’s it about?”
He moved closer, and despite everything, your breath caught. “It’s about performance metrics. Ensuring quality control.”
“Quality control,” you repeated faintly.
“We’re the 141,” Soap said, appearing at your other side. “We don’t do second place. In anything.”
“And if Graves-” Gaz made a dismissive gesture, “-thinks he’s set some kind of benchmark, well…”
“Someone needs to correct that misconception,” Ghost finished.
You looked around at all of them, these competitive, stubborn, absolutely impossible men who apparently couldn’t stand the thought of anyone- especially Graves- being considered the best at something.
Even this.
Especially this.
“You’re all insane,” you managed.
“Probably,” Price agreed easily. “But you’re still here.”
You were. God help you, you were still here, and you weren’t walking away, and they all knew it.
Which is how you would up on Price’s bed with Soap’s head between your legs.
One second you’re in the rec room and the next you’re ushered upstairs, Soap’s mouth on your cunt, and your whole body jerks like someone plugged you in.
It’s wet and hot and pressure. Not a fluttery kiss, he seals over you and pulls, drawing your clit into his mouth and your hips come off the mattress a good inch. His hands slam to your thighs and push, spreading you wider and pinning you at the same time.
“F-fuck- oh god- Johnny.” That’s when your pulse drops, leaves your throat and settles between your legs in a hard, responsive beat. Every time his tongue flicks, it kicks. Every time his mouth sucks, it swells. The nerves there go loud, drowning out everything else.
You can feel your own slick on your inner thighs now, warm and a little messy. When he drags you closer, you slide on it. The sheet under your ass is going to be damp.
He angles his head and finds the exact spot.
You know it because your calves tense and your fingers curl. You try to close your legs around his head, curl around the pleasure, and he just laughs into you, low and smug, and forces your knees apart again. Your hip flexors burn from the stretch. You can feel the tremor start in them.
Above you, the bed dips; someone leans in. A broad, callused palm plants over your lower belly and holds you down. That single extra point of contact changes everything; now you can’t roll, can’t run, can’t arch away. All you can do is feel.
Soap increases his tempo.
Slow at first; long, wet licks from your entrance up to your clit, pausing there, circling. Then tighter, faster, little pulls of suction. Then when you gasp right, he adds tongue and lips and pressure and it becomes this relentless little engine of sensation, over and over, no mercy.
Your stomach knots. Your thighs start to shake properly now, not just twitch. Your nipples rub against the fabric of your bra every time you breathe, and they’re hard, throbbing, needy from the rubbing.
You make a sound.
It’s not pretty. It’s a half choked, wet, needy thing, and it spills out without permission. Someone coos at you for it. A thumb strokes your cheek. Fingers thread through your hair. It all blurs together because the center of you is flooding with heat.
He pushes two fingers inside you and the stretch is immediate; fullness to match the drag of his tongue. A sharp, perfect ache along your inner walls where your body says yes, there. Your cunt clenches around him like it’s trying to pull him in farther. The wet sound is obscene. You hear someone suck in a breath and say “Fuck, look at ‘er.”
Your chest heaves. Your ribs can’t expand enough. You can’t get a full breath because every time you try, Soap does something with his tongue to take it.
You’re right on the edge of that bright drop and your thighs try to close again. He forces them open again.
Your hips try to lift. The hand on your belly forces you down.
Your head tosses side to side, too much, too big, too good. Fingers- whose? Price’s? Gaz’s?- catch your jaw and bring you back to center.
“Look.”
So you do. You blink through the blur and look, and there’s a pair of baby blue eyes watching you come apart, and that alone tips you.
You break.
It’s hot and it’s fast. Your whole pelvis locks, then pulses. Your cunt clamps around his fingers in hard, greedy squeezes. Your clit is burning from the drag of his mouth and you are so wet you can feel your slick slide down toward your ass. Your toes curl, calves cramping, thighs shaking. At the crest, your vision goes white at the edges and your ears rush.
You come hard.
He stays on you.
That’s the killer. He doesn’t back off. He gentles, yeah, but he doesn’t stop. He licks you through it, slow, teasing, gathering everything he pulled out of you, making you feel every last pulse.
Your body shudders in aftershocks. Little heat flares. The muscles in your stomach flutter. You can’t do anything but take it.
Someone’s hand comes up to your chest and rubs, grounding. Another slides under your knee and bends it, easing the strain in your hip. Another strokes the inside of your thigh where his stubble has made it pink.
You sag.
You’re warm everywhere now, skin buzzing, limbs heavy. Your cunt still pulses in little sympathetic squeezes around nothing. If Soap slid his cock in right now, you’d pull him in to the hilt, no resistance.
They move you, fabric drags over your oversensitive nipples and you hiss, arching away, and someone laughs softly and unhooks your bra, slipping it away, soothing your nipples with their thumb. The bed squeaks, wood complaining. A knee slots between your legs and you ride it without meaning to because there’s still ache there, still want.
Another mouth finds your throat. Teeth scrape, gentle. A hand cups you, broad and warm, palm pressing over your still wet clit.
You were still shaking when they decided one orgasm didn’t prove anything.
The bed dipped and shifted around you, weight moving like a tide. You were on your back, knees loose, underwear somewhere halfway down one thigh, trying to remember how to breathe, when a warm hand slid up your stomach and settled just under your ribs. Big palm, callused, heavy enough to say stay right here. Price, then.
“Easy,” he murmured, more in tone than words. You felt it in your skin, not your ears. “You’re alright.”
You were. Your muscles, though, hadn’t caught up. Your thighs had that post release tremble, the one you couldn’t command away. Your belly kept fluttering in little afterpulses. Between your legs you were hot and slick and sensitive, pleasure still fizzing under the surface like it hadn’t decided to leave yet.
And they were all still there.
You were aware of them the way you’re aware of heat behind you. Soap, breathless and smug near your knees. Gaz, closer to your head now, arm along the pillow so you could lean if you needed. Ghost, solid at the side of the bed, one knee on the mattress so he could reach you without crowding.
Four men. Four sets of hands. Four different temperatures of want.
Your body knew it before your brain did: we’re not done.
Price’s hand slid down from your ribs to your hip, then lower, thumb brushing the still damp inside of your thigh. He hummed, quiet, pleased. “Good,” he said like he was noting it for the record. “Soft and wet.”
That should’ve been embarrassing. It wasn’t. Not with the way they were looking at you- like this was data, yes, but also like it was a gift you were like this for them.
Gaz tipped his head, watching your chest rise and fall. “She’s coming back,” he said, the way he might’ve said her vitals are up. “Look.”
You opened your eyes. The room swam into focus- concrete walls, rain on the window, four shadows leaning over you.
Soap grinned down at you, face flushed, mouth a little swollen. “So?” he said. “Better than Graves?”
You meant to snap at him. You really did. But the second your mouth opened, a thumb- Ghost’s, gloved and warm- smoothed over your cheek, and whatever retort you’d had melted.
“Don’t make her talk through it,” Ghost said, voice low. “She’s floatin’.”
You were. Your head felt light, your limbs felt heavy, and under all of it, your cunt still pulsed, slow and needy, because that first orgasm had taken the edge off but not the want. If anything, the want had gotten worse; looser, lazier, more give me more of that.
They saw it.
Price shifted, sitting on the edge of the bed so your back could rest against his thigh. The fabric of his pants was rough against your bare skin, but his palm was warm, moving in soothing circles over your belly. You let your head fall back against him without thinking.
“There we are,” he said voice like gravel. “Let’s get you comfortable.”
Comfortable was relative. Comfortable meant supported while we do more to you.
Soap crawled up again, this time on your left, bracing a hand beside your shoulder, his body radiating heat. Gaz mirrored him on the right, thigh pressed to your hip. Ghost stayed at your feet, big hands sliding up your calves, over your knees, pushing your legs apart again with maddening patience.
Your thighs quivered under his hands. He didn’t let them close.
“Look at that,” Soap said, and there was honest admiration in it. “Still shiverin’.”
“Sensitive,” Gaz agreed, eyes crinkling. “Makes it a fair fight.”
A fair fight. You almost laughed. Nothing about this was fair. It was four world class overachievers deciding one loud American didn’t get to be the gold standard in your head.
Ghost’s hands were firmer now, thumbs pressing into the tender spot where thigh met hip, easing you open inch by inch. You felt the cool air on you again. Felt your own wet, slick and warm against the inside of your thighs. Felt the ache start to build again, low and heavy, because even being held open like that sent a pulse of want through you.
He didn’t touch you right away. That was almost worse. He just kept you open and looked, head bent, breath brushing your inner thigh through the mask. His gaze flicked up to yours, unreadable.
“Still want more?” he asked.
You swallowed. Your throat felt dry. “Yes.”
Price’s hand on your belly stilled for a beat, then resumed, slower. You could practically hear the satisfaction in his silence.
“Good,” Ghost said. “Because we’re not lettin’ Graves win on a technicality.”
Then he touched you.
He dragged two knuckles through your slick and the sensation was so sharp after what Soap had just done to you that your hips tried to jerk away. Price’s arm across your middle kept you exactly where you were.
“Easy,” Price murmured, mouth close to your ear. “Breathe for me.”
You did. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Your body settled, but only in the loosest way. Every nerve from your navel down was on.
Ghost circled you first. Slow, deliberate, dragging wet over the most sensitive part of you in lazy, cruel little loops. It made everything there swell, throb, wake up. It made the ache bloom again, hotter, until you were whimpering into the air, panting from the heat of it.
Then, when you were looking at him, when he had your eyes, he slid two fingers into you.
You gasped. Couldn’t help it. Couldn’t hold it back.
It felt deep immediately. You were still soft and open from the orgasm and your body took him to the knuckle. You could feel your walls flutter around him, a helpless, greedy squeezing. You could feel just how wet you were, how easily he moved, how the motion made obscene, slick sounds between your thighs.
“Fuckin’ hell,” Soap breathed. “Listen to her.”
You heard it too. The wet. The way you caught on his fingers on the way out, then sucked him right back in. Your cheeks burned. Your body didn’t care. Your body wanted more.
Ghost set a rhythm- deep press in, slow pull out, lazy twist at the top that nudged right where you were still sensitive. Every stroke made your hips roll, made your breath catch, made moans spill out past your lips, made that warm, liquid feeling in your belly spread.
Price’s hand slid up to your breasts, fingers curling over the weight of them, thumb brushing your nipples. They were already sensitive and the touch made them tingle more. You arched into his palms without thinking and he made a pleased sound low in his chest.
“Responsive,” he said, mostly to himself. “Like that, do you?”
You managed a nod. Your voice was somewhere under the bed and you could only answer him with moans.
Gaz leaned in and kissed the corner of your mouth. “You look wrecked already,” he murmured, smile against your skin. “That’s good. That’s how we like you.”
Ghost crooked his fingers inside you.
The pleasure changed. Went from warm and spreading to sharp and right fucking there. It sent sparks up your spine. Your thighs tried to close again and Gaz and Soap clamped their hands on the fat of your thighs, held you wide and open, while Ghost worked that spot over and over.
Your breathing went ragged. Your hips started to chase. Your toes curled in nothing. Your hand flew up, searching for something to hold, and landed on Soap’s forearm. You clamped down hard. He just laughed, turned his arm so you could get a better grip.
“Yeah, that’s it,” he said, eyes hungry on your face. “Hold on.”
You could feel yourself climbing again. Already. So soon. Your body didn’t care. It liked his fingers, liked the way they filled and dragged, liked the way Price’s thumbs kept circling your nipples in lazy counterpoint, liked the way Gaz’s mouth kept brushing your jaw, your cheek, grounding you.
“Still with us?” Price asked quietly.
“Yes,” you got out. Barely.
“Good girl.”
Your cunt clenched around Ghost’s fingers at that. Hard. Instinctive. You felt the heat in your face flare.
He felt it too. “Oh, you like that,” he said, tone gone velvet dark. “That what he said to you?” A pointed reference- Graves? Did he say it like that? It should’ve annoyed you but it didn’t. It just sent another pulse of want through you.
“Doesn’t matter,” Gaz said, amused, kissing your temple. “She’s gonna hear it better from us.”
You were too close to answer with a retort. The pressure was right there, sitting low, throbbing. Your thighs were fully trembling now, little uncontrollable shakes. Your belly was tight. Your breath came in hot pants. You knew if he just-
He did.
He added his thumb.
The extra point of pressure on your clit lit you up. It was too much and exactly enough. Your head tipped back on Price’s shoulder. A sound tore out of you, high and helpless.
“Let it happen,” Price said into your hair. “Let it.”
You did.
It rolled over you harder than the first, because your body was already primed, because you were being held this time- one hand at your throat, another at your breast, hips braced, legs kept open. You didn’t have to hold yourself up. You didn’t have to be quiet. You didn’t have to pretend you weren’t falling apart for them.
Your climax ripped through you in tight, fast pulses. Your walls clutched around Ghost’s fingers like you were trying to keep him. Slick flooded out around him, hot and embarrassing and perfect. Your thighs shook, heels digging into the mattress. You might’ve said someone’s name; you weren’t sure which.
They talked but it washed over you. What stuck was touch: Price’s hand on your sternum, grounding; Gaz’s thumb catching a tear you didn’t realize had slipped; Soap’s palm tightening on your knee like there you go, that’s our girl; Ghost’s fingers slowly, carefully easing out of you when the aftershocks got too sharp.
You sagged back, boneless.
Your cunt still fluttered, slow little squeezes in the afterglow. Your thighs glistened. Your skin hummed. You were warm all over, skin prickling, heart finally starting to settle.
Somewhere near your ear, Price chuckled. “That’s two,” he said, smug. “He give you two?”
You huffed a breath that was half laugh, half groan. “Oh my god.”
“She’s not arguing,” Soap crowed.
Gaz leaned his forehead to yours. “That’s because we’re winning,” he said, delighted.
Ghost wiped his fingers on the sheet, then rested his big hand over the inside of your thigh, thumb stroking once, slow. “We’re not done,” he said, and the promise in it made your already overworked nerves spark again.
You believed him. Every part of you, flushed, wet, and trembling, believed him.
Price shifted behind you.
“Alright,” he says, voice low, that command layer threaded through it. “My turn.”
You feel him move, feel the bed dip differently, feel his thighs open so there’s room for you. A hand slides under your knee and guides your leg over his until suddenly you’re straddling one of his legs, back against his chest, his arm a wide band across your front, holding you steady.
He’s warm everywhere you touch him. Solid. Bigger than you in all the places that matter for this. You can smell him, too, smoke, wool, the faint metallic smell of weapons oil. Familiar. Comforting. Infuriatingly hot right now.
You’re still soft from coming. Still wet. When he palms your hip and pulls you backward over him, you feel just how wet; you slide on yourself, on the inside of your thigh, on the sheet. You make a small, uncontrolled sound at your own slickness.
“Yeah,” he murmurs against the side of your face. “That’s what I thought.”
There’s movement below you: a belt unbuckling, the soft metal jingle, zipper down. You don’t have to look to know what he’s doing. Your body knows; your muscles get ready. Your hips go loose and expectant. Your cunt gives a slow, hungry little pulse like yes, now.
He fits his hand between your legs first, checking like he didn’t just watch Ghost make you flood. His fingers drag through you, gather you, stroke you. The touch is gentler than Ghost’s was, not searching for a spot, just confirming you’re ready for weight.
You are. God, you are.
“Still open,” he says, and you can hear the approval. “That’s good, sweetheart. Gonna make this easy.”
You don’t even realize you’ve tipped your head to his shoulder until his beard scrapes your temple. His mouth is right there, breath warm, words for you, just you. That alone makes your chest go hot.
“Hands on me,” he says. “Hold on.”
You do. One arm goes back around his neck, dragging his collar down so you’ve got something to grip. The other braces on his thigh. You can feel the muscle there, hard even relaxed.
The others have gone quiet.
They’re still close. You can feel Soap at the edge of the bed, practically vibrating. You can feel Gaz leaning in to see. You can feel Ghost standing sentry, watchful, but there’s a charged waiting in all of them now; the kind you get right before breaching.
Price angles his hips.
You feel his cock thick, hot, and heavy pressing against you from below. It’s blunt at first, just a nudge at your entrance, sliding in your wet. Your breath stops. Every muscle lower than your ribs goes tight, held in that exquisite almost there.
He hears it. “Breathe,” he reminds you softly. “Don’t lock up on me.”
You force air into your lungs. It shudders on the way out.
Then he pulls your hips down.
It’s a slow, controlled push. He’s too big and you’re too sensitive for him to just drive in, so he eases you over him, inch by steady inch. The stretch is immediate and deep. You feel it all the way up your spine. Your body parts around him because you’re open and slick and primed, but it still burns for a second and tells you you’re getting full.
“There’s it is,” Soap said somewhere off to the side, almost reverent. “Look at how she’s takin’ him.”
You felt it even with your eyes closed: three men leaning in, watching the way your body gave for Price. You were too busy feeling it to be shy.
Because once he got past that first thick resistance, your body just… went. The muscle ring eased, the wet did its job, and you sank. You could feel every ridge, every vein, the heat of him. You could feel the difference between the blunt, stretching first half and the deeper, thicker second half. You could feel your own slick being pushed up around his cock.
Your breath came out on a shaky, “Oh-”
“Good girl,” Price said in your ear, voice gone rough. His arm tightened around your middle to keep you from scrambling away from the intensity. “Knew you’d take me.”
That praise lit you up. Your cunt clenched around him hard. He groaned low in his throat, vibrating against your back where you felt it more than heard it.
“Fuckin’ hell,” Gaz muttered, delighted. “She’s squeezin’ him already.”
“Course she is,” Soap said. “She’s still warm from before.”
Ghost didn’t say anything, but you heard the small, sharp inhale he always did when something impressed him.
Price held you there for a beat, fully seated, your ass on his thighs, your back to his chest, his cock buried in you to the hilt. It was a lot. Full, hot, so deep it nudged at places Ghost’s fingers hadn’t reached. It made your stomach feel heavy and your chest feel light. Your body wanted to move, to rock, to chase, but he didn’t let you. Not yet.
“Feel that?” he asked quietly.
You nodded, too breathless to speak.
“Tell me.”
“S’full,” you slurred, cheeks hot. It felt silly to say, but it was the truth. “You’re- full.”
“That’s right.” He sounded indecently pleased. “That’s the bit he couldn’t give you.”
Your back arched when he pulled almost all the way out.
The drag was obscene, long and slow, your walls gripping, reluctant to let him go. You could feel the way you narrowed again around the thickest part of him, the way your wet clung, glistening on his cock. At the top of the stroke he stayed right at your entrance, head just inside, letting you feel the emptiness he’d leave if he pulled out.
Your whole pelvis tipped, chasing him back.
Price laughed, low. “Oh, you liked that.”
Then he pushed back in, a little faster.
It rocked your whole body every thrust translated through his thighs and into your spine. Your breasts jostled; his forearm across your chest pushed them up. Your head fell back on his shoulder, mouth open.
He found his pace quickly, not jackhammering- he wasn’t showing off for the lads. He was demonstrating. Deep, confident strokes, bottoming out every time, giving you the full length so you couldn’t accuse him of holding back.
Every thrust pressed you down onto the mattress and up into his chest at the same time. Every thrust made your clit drag against the heel of his hand where it was braced on your hip. It stacked sensation- deep stretch inside, blunt friction outside- and your nerves lit right back up.
Your thighs tried to close and his big hand slid down and caught the inside of your knee, pushing it back open, letting the others see him inside you.
“She’s made for it,” Gaz said, softer. “Look at her.”
You were half gone already. Your breathing had gone high, breathy, those quick little pants that always came out of you when you were being taken instead of doing the taking. Your hands had locked on him, your cunt fluttering around him every time he bottomed out, that desperate, helpless squeezing.
He felt it. “There she goes,” he murmured. “She’s climbing again.”
You were. Faster than before. It hadn’t even been five minutes since Ghost worked you over and already your body was stringing itself tight again because now you were full, now you had weight, now you had rhythm. Your clit, still tender, zinged every time he drove you down. Your belly tightened. Your toes curled.
Price angled his hips a fraction and suddenly he was hitting a spot that made your vision blur.
You made a sound- high, keening, moaning.
“There?” he asked, voice tight.
“Yes- yes- don’t stop- please-”
He hit it again. Again. Held you down this time so you couldn’t wiggle off it. Your mouth dropped open. Heat flooded your face, your chest, your whole pelvis. Your legs shook against his hand.
“That’s the one,” Gaz said, almost delighted. “Right there.”
“Keep her there,” Ghost said. “Make it clear.”
He did.
You couldn’t run. You couldn’t even think of running. His arm was a bar across your chest; his hand was a clamp on your thigh; his thighs were solid under you. He just kept driving up, slow and merciless, right into that spot, each stroke punching a breathless sound out of you.
Your first and second orgasms had been waves. This one built like pressure. Tight, hard, insistent. Your cunt started to clamp in short, frantic squeezes. Your nails dug into his shoulder. Your head tipped back, baring your throat.
He bent and bit you there making you gasp.
That did it.
You broke around him, muscles locking and then spasming. Your walls gripped him so hard it dragged a groan out of his chest. Heat rushed down through you, out along your thighs, up through your spine. Your whole body shook. You might’ve said “Cap’in,” you weren’t sure.
He didn’t stop. He rode you through it, pace steady, letting your spasms milk him, letting you feel every inch of him inside you while you were at your most sensitive as he groaned and spilled deep into your cunt with a groan.
“That’s three,” Ghost said, satisfied. “He do three?”
You couldn’t answer. Your brain was white noise. All you could do was gasp and babble and hold on and feel.
Price finally slowed, then stilled, cock still deep, arm still locked around you. You were limp against him, boneless, chest heaving. Sweat was cooling on your stomach. Your thighs were a mess between wet and shaking and being forced open.
He kissed the side of your head. “Good,” he said, praise thick. “That’s my girl.”
Around you, the others moved.
You felt Soap climb onto the bed properly now, not just hovering. Felt Gaz shift closer to your knees. Felt Ghost come around the foot, big and quiet, watching you with that evaluating look.
“You want a turn?” Price asked, still inside you, not even pretending he’d pull out yet.
“Oh, absolutely,” Soap said, hungry. “She’s soft as fuck now.”
Gaz laughed. “You just want to see if you can top that.”
“Mate, I know I can top that.”
Ghost’s eyes flicked over you, taking in the flushed face, the trembling legs, the way you were still clenching around Price even as you came down. “She can take more,” he said.
You made a weak, protesting sound that wasn’t really a protest.
Price chuckled into your hair. “Hear that?” he said. “She wants it.”
Price kept you on him for a moment longer, big arm banded across your front, chest to your back, thighs snug under your ass. You were still pulsing around him in little, involuntary squeezes, and every one of them made his breath hitch warm against your ear.
“Well?” he asked the room, smug. “That feel like Berlin to you?”
Ghost shifted at the foot of the bed, mask tipped like he was taking notes. “So far,” he said, dry as bone, “that’s us: 3. Graves: fuck all.”
You managed a laugh, weak and breathy. “You’re all… ridiculous.”
“Competitive,” all four of them said at once.
Price finally eased you off him. You felt every inch of it; felt the drag, the last thick stretch, the way your body tried to hold him and then had to let go. You gasped softly at the loss, hips twitching. He steadied you with both hands, murmuring, “Easy, love,” as he guided you forward.
The second you were clear, Soap was there.
“C’mere, then,” he said, hands already on your waist, warm and eager. “My turn.”
Soap pulled you onto your hands and knees near the middle of the bed, the mattress complaining. You were loose limbed and shaky, so he did half the work himself, tucking your knees under you, keeping a palm between your shoulder blades so you didn’t fold.
“Oh, look at you,” he said, a low whistle in his voice when he got a full view. “Messy wee thing.”
You flushed hot. You were messy: your slick on your thighs, Price’s cum dripping out of your on the blanket, thighs still trembling. You would’ve dropped your head in your arms if Gaz hadn’t reached in and tipped your chin up.
“Don’t hide,” he cooed. “We wanna see you.”
Ghost made a little approving sound. “That’s the point.”
Soap looked over your shoulder. “So?” he challenged. “Cap do good?”
Price, still catching his own breath, wiped a hand over his beard. “She came,” he said, a little too pleased.
“Then I’ll make it four,” Soap said. “An’ then we can tell Graves to get fucked.”
“You did tell him that,” Gaz reminded him.
“Aye, but now I can tell him why.”
You felt Soap line up behind you, heat against the back of your thighs, chest to your back for a second as he reached down to guide his cock towards your entrance. His left hand stayed right in the small of your back, keeping you in position.
Soap pushed in.
He wasn’t as patient as Price- he was eager, and you felt that in the way he rolled his hips, in the way his hand tightened on you when he felt how easily you took him. You were wet enough, and already open; your body gave. You gasped- couldn’t not, after being so full already. Your arms shook. Gaz immediately slid closer on the bed and let you grip his wrist.
“Price did the hard work,” Gaz said, but he was grinning, cupping your cheek with his free hand so you’d look at him. “How’s he feel, love?”
“S’ good,” you got out, words breaking on a breath. “He’s-”
“Better?” Soap said, smug, starting to move for real now.
You couldn’t answer right away because Soap fucked differently than Price. Price was heavy and deep and sure. Soap was energized. He rolled through his hips like he fought, like he danced, like he couldn’t keep still if you paid him. Every stroke had a little snap at the end, a little lift of your hips, a little grind that dragged over every sensitive place Price had already woken up.
Your arms almost gave. Your elbows dipped. Gaz caught you around the shoulders and pulled you up, settling you half against his chest so you weren’t bearing your whole weight. It changed the angle, your back curving, your hips tipping, and Soap groaned when he felt it.
“Oh, that’s better,” he said. “Fuck, that’s better.”
Price moved in behind him, one hand landing on Soap’s shoulder like, pace. “Don’t blow your load in five seconds, Sergeant.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Captain,” Soap said, but he slowed just enough to keep you from being overwhelmed.
Your body, though, was already there. Every thrust pressed slick heat up where you were still tender. Every time he bottomed, you felt that deep, aching fullness, your walls clinging to his cock. You could hear yourself wet, obscene, a steady rhythm under the creak of the bed. Your thighs started to shake again, traitorous.
“She’s goin’ again,” Soap said, awed, angling his hips, his dick pressing deeper and making you whine against Gaz’s throat.
“She’s not gonna last long with you showboatin’,” Price said.
“She doesn’t have to,” Gaz said, mouth at your ear. “That’s the point.”
Ghost had moved closer, right at the foot now, one knee on the mattress, watching you from the best angle. You could feel his eyes on where you were joined. You could feel the heat of him even not touching you.
“Look at that,” he said, voice gone low, almost hungry. “That’s four. She’s taken two cocks and she’s still asking for it.”
You were. Your hips were pushing back to meet Soap’s, small desperate motions. Your hand on Gaz’s wrist had gone from holding to clutching. Your breath came in high, sweet bursts.
Soap slid his hand around your front, over your belly, down.
“Johnny,” Price warned.
“Relax,” Soap said. “I’m helpin’ her.”
His fingers found your clit, already swollen and slick and went straight to steady, tight circles, timed with his thrusts. Your whole body jolted.
You made a noise that wasn’t words.
“There she is,” Gaz murmured, holding you upright. “There we go. Let it happen, pretty girl.”
Soap laughed, ragged. “Aye, let it- fuck- listen to her.”
You couldn’t hold it back. Your body was too ready, too worked, too wet. The combination- full inside, rubbed right there, held and watched and praised- ripped another climax out of you. This one was messy and loud, your muscles going tight-tight-loose, thighs shaking so hard Soap had to clamp his arm around your middle to keep you from dropping as he buried deep and came, flooding your sensitive cunt with his release.
“That’s four,” Ghost said immediately. “Graves: still nowhere.”
You dropped your forehead to Gaz’s shoulder, breath tearing in and out of you. He cupped the back of your head, pressing a kiss to your hairline. “Good girl,” he said. “So good. You with us?”
“Yeah,” you panted, tears sliding. “Yeah.”
“Need a minute?” Price asked, voice back to that command soft.
You thought about it. Your body was thrumming, muscles liquid, thighs sore in a good way, your cunt still fluttering around Soap where he’d slowed to a lazy grind to keep you from getting shocked. You could have taken a minute.
You didn’t want to.
“No,” you said, surprising yourself with how sure it came out. “Don’t… stop.”
You felt all of them react to that.
“Fuck, I love her,” Soap said, groaning, pulling out slow, another long, obscene drag that made your eyes roll. “Right. Trade.”
Gaz laughed, delighted. “My go.”
He was smoother about it.
While Soap eased out, Gaz was already shifting you, rolling you gently onto your back again, then tugging your hips toward him. His hands were warm, steady, different from the other two: less force, more coaxing. He bent, kissed you once, slow and deep, like a palate cleanser.
“How we doing?” he asked against your mouth.
“Fuzzy,” you murmured. “Good. Fuzzy.”
“Fuzzy’s good,” he said. “Means we’re doing it right.”
He pushed your knees up, opening you again, and glanced back at the others. “You lads want to see?” he asked, shameless. “Come round. She’s gorgeous like this.”
They did.
Price came to your left, hand braced by your head, beard shadowed, eyes heavy. Soap flopped to your right, still flushed, watching like he wanted to dive back in the second he got the nod. Ghost stayed at the foot of the bed, looming, mask down, eyes dark.
Gaz stroked you first, just fingers, slow up your slit, spreading your slick and Price’s and Soap’s cum along your cunt. “Still so wet,” he said, low. “God, you’re perfect.”
Then he pushed into you.
He was between Price’s deep and Soap’s eager. He sank in steady, watching your face, slowing when you gasped, pushing when you relaxed. Your body welcomed him, open and dripping and aching for it. Even so, the stretch made your breath stutter and your hands grab for whoever was closest.
Price gave you his, lacing his fingers in with yours. “Here,” he said, and you held on.
Gaz bottomed out and stayed. You could feel him everywhere, thick inside, pressing low, your walls hugging him after so much use. Your belly fluttered again.
“Fuck,” Soap whispered. “She’s still clenchin’.”
“Means we’re not done,” Gaz said, beginning to move.
His pace was cruel in its own way. Not the driving authority of Price or the showy roll of Soap, this was measured. Just fast enough to keep you on the high, just deep enough to hit where you were tender. He knew he didn’t have to prove he could make you come, Price and Soap had already done the heavy lifting. He wanted to prove he could keep you there.
He did. Within a minute you were right back on the ledge, breath short and hiccuping, thighs trembling, slick loud between you, hands switching from Price’s wrist to Soap’s forearm, back to Price’s shirt, sobbing and sniffling with each thrust. Your clit was throbbing, begging for touch.
Gaz gave it, of course. Thumb down, gentle circles, perfectly in time.
“Yeah,” he murmured when your mouth dropped open and your back bowed and lewd desperate sound fell past swollen lips. “There she is. Gimme another.”
“Another?” you gasped, half pleading, half hysterical laughing.
“You said Graves was ‘one of the best,’” he said, smiling through the words. “We’ve got to bury that score, love.”
You couldn’t even argue because you could feel it right there again, that tight, spiraling tension building from the inside out; because the others were watching you like they were cataloguing every twitch; because Price was murmuring, “C’mon, love,” and Soap was chanting, “There ya go, there ya go,” and Ghost was saying nothing but looked satisfied.
You shattered again.
It rolled over you like a breaking wave, less sharp than the last, but wide, everywhere, making your toes curl and your back arch and your fingers dig into whatever you were holding. Your cunt spasmed around Gaz in hot little pulses. He groaned, hands tightening on your thighs, but kept moving slow to draw it out until you were scrambling and wiggling and sobbing from the sheer pleasure of it.
It was the wild look in your eyes, the near frantic pleasure at being overstimulated, blubbering into the air as Gaz kept thrusting, prolonging your orgasm into too much, that broke him, pushing in deep and stilling with a groan as he added his cum to Price’s and Soap’s.
You whimpered, overstimulated now, hips trying to twist away. Gaz caught it immediately and slowed, then stopped, still inside you but not moving. “Okay,” he said softly. “There we are. Breathe.”
You did, trembling all over now, thighs, stomach, even your arms. Sweat dripped on your neck. Your hair stuck to your cheek. You were aware of everything: the wet between your legs, the steady heat of a cock still buried in you, the weight of hands on your knees, your chest, your cheek.
Then there was Ghost.
“Shift,” he said quietly.
No one argued. Gaz eased out carefully making you whine- God, you felt that- and ghosted back. Price and Soap moved enough to give him room. You were boneless, pliant. You watched him take off his gloves, one finger at a time, setting them on the nightstand.
He came to the foot of the bed and took your ankles in his bare hands. His palms were hot, big enough to wrap nearly around. He slid you down toward him, closer to the edge. Your ass met the edge of the mattress, thighs spread over his forearms, knees kicked up, your back arched because there was nowhere else to go.
You were already wrecked.
Everything from your navel down felt wet, hot, loose. Skin clammy from sweat. Inner thighs slick where your own arousal had dried and then been replaced and then smeared again. Your muscles had that aftershock tremor- little twitches in your quads, belly fluttering, shoulders quaking when you tried to push up on your elbows.
He took one look at you and huffed behind the mask, low and satisfied. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s more like it.”
He wasn’t rushed, but he wasn’t delicate either. He hooked your right leg up over his shoulder; high, opening you farther than the others had and the stretch at the back of your thigh burned.
“Easy,” Price murmured from somewhere by your head, palming your shoulder. “He’s got you.”
Ghost caught your other knee and shoved it out with his hips, there was nowhere to put him. He took up the whole end of the bed, arms, shoulders, chest, all of it. You were small against him now, laid out, thighs spread over a frame that could pin three people if he wanted.
You felt his size before you felt him.
His shadow blocked the ceiling. His thigh brushed the mattress and the whole thing groaned. His hands spanned your hips like they were handles. When he bent a little, bracing one palm beside your ribs, the bed dipped like someone had dropped a sandbag.
“Want more?” he asked.
You nodded, breath already short.
“Good.”
He dragged his cock through you once and that alone nearly short circuited you.
Because you were soaked now, used and soft, and he was thick. Thicker than Price. Different shape than Soap. Longer than Gaz. He slid through your mess in a long, slow stroke, head bumping your clit, smearing heat everywhere. Your hips jumped like you’d been shocked.
“Oh-”
“Christ,” Gaz breathed, watching from beside your knee. “She’s still that wet?”
“Yeah,” Soap said, all wonder. “We did that.”
Ghost lined up.
You saw it only in a flash- cock big, flushed, heavy in his fist and then it was gone, pressed to your swollen cunt, right where you were open. You felt the blunt head nudge and everything in you locked, not from fear but from pure instinct: big, big, big.
“Breathe,” he said, like he’d been waiting for it. “Or it’ll hurt.”
You pulled air. Chest rising, shaking. Price’s hand slid up to your throat thumb under your chin to tip your face up so he could see your eyes.
“Right here,” he said. “With us.”
Ghost pushed.
There was zero give for the first second. You were open, but you were also swollen and sensitive, and he was a lot. The pressure was deep, powerful, like someone slowly forcing a fist into clay. Your mouth fell open in a silent oh, eyes going wide.
“Fuckin’ hell,” Soap said again, because apparently that was his phrase tonight. “Look at her-”
“Johnny,” Price warned, but his voice was tight too.
Ghost didn’t slam. He didn’t have to. He just leaned his weight in, inch by relentless inch, and let your own wet do the rest. Your body had to yield. And that was the moment your brain just… flickered.
Because it was too much.
Stretch, deep in your pelvis. Burn, not sharp but huge. Fullness that pushed on places the others hadn’t. Your back arched hard, heels digging into his shoulders, trying to find leverage that didn’t exist.
“Si-” you gasped, name torn out of you.
“Yeah,” he said, voice low, pleased. “Say it.”
He was halfway in and you already felt full. Crowded. Your cunt squeezed around him in shocked little spasms, trying to pull him in and push him out at the same time.
“Fuck,” Gaz said, softer. “She’s clamping down on him.”
“’Course she is,” Price said, hand still at your throat, thumb rubbing your jaw. “He’s wreckin’ her.”
He was. He absolutely was.
Ghost gave you maybe two seconds to adjust, then he pushed the rest of the way.
It knocked sound out of you. A strangled, punched out cry that wasn’t even a word. Your vision went hot white at the edges. Your hands flew out, grabbing for anything- blanket, shirt, wrist. Soap shoved his forearm under your palm on reflex so you had something solid to claw at.
“Got you,” he said, eyes wide. “S’okay, s’okay.”
Your body took Ghost’s cock, because it had no choice, because you were so wet he could’ve slid forever, because the three men before him had already made you pliant. But where Price and Soap and Gaz had felt like they fit, Ghost felt like he filled. Like there was nowhere he wasn’t.
He bottomed out and held.
You could feel him in your belly- cock heavy, hot pressure low and deep. You could feel him nudging at your cervix, you could feel your own slick squeezed around him, you could feel your pulse beating against the underside of him.
Your brain went white.
Not “I can’t think of a comeback.” Not “wow, this is good.” Actual blank space. Everything narrowed to he’s inside me, he’s so big, I can’t- I can’t- oh god-
You stared up at the ceiling, mouth open, chest stuttering. Sound was distant- men talking, praising, swearing- but it was like it was happening down the hall. The only thing close was his weight and the bed and the way your body was struggling to remember how to relax around him.
“Breathe,” Price said again, firmer. “C’mon, love. In. Out.”
You dragged air. It trembled.
Ghost’s big hand slid down your thigh, over your knee, to the underside of it. He hitched your leg higher over his shoulder, angle changing, hips dipping so he wasn’t ramming your cervix, just pressing deep.
“Good girl,” he said then, and you felt the words more than heard them. “Took me. Look at you.”
You couldn’t. Your eyes rolled a little. Your fingers dug into Soap’s arm; he hissed and let you.
“Look at her,” Soap said, voice gone soft with awe. “She’s floatin’.”
Gaz laughed under his breath, gentle. “She’s gone.”
Ghost started to move, a slow, dragging pull, to the point where you could feel every ridge of him, your own walls clinging desperately, and then a steady, heavy drive back in that rocked your whole body. The mattress creaked. Your breasts bounced. Your mouth kept making these little punched out sounds you couldn’t control.
The best and worst part was the weight. Every time he came down, his hips met the backs of your thighs with a solid, meaty thock, and because he had your legs hooked over his shoulders, it pinned your pelvis to where he wanted you. You couldn’t lift to meet him. You couldn’t squirm away. You could only take that deep, filling stroke.
Your eyes unfocused.
Your mouth went wet and open.
Your thoughts- what was left of them- ran in circles: big, deep, can’t, yes, yes, yes-
“Yeah,” Soap murmured, almost proud. “That’s the one, Ghost. That’s the one that’s gonna wipe Graves right out of her head.”
Ghost’s eyes flicked up at him, dark and amused. “That the brief?”
“Absolutely the brief,” Gaz said. “Mission critical.”
“Then hold her,” Ghost said. “She’s slippin’.”
Price’s arm came under your shoulders and lifted you partway so you weren’t flat, so you had him to lean on. Your head flopped to the side against his chest, lips parted. He cupped your jaw, thumb on your cheek, steady.
“Come back,” he said quietly. “Want you to feel him.”
“I-” you managed, voice thin. “I feel him.”
“Oh, I know you do.”
Ghost changed the angle again, just a small shift of his knee, a deeper drive of his hips and that was it. That was the key. Suddenly he was stroking over that spot inside you the others had found, but from lower, heavier, fuller, and your whole body spasmed.
“Oh- oh, fuck-“
“There she is,” Gaz breathed. “There it is.”
Your climax came up like a sucker punch.
No build. No slow climb. Just here. Your cunt clenched around him so hard it wrung a low, filthy sound out of Ghost. Your back bowed against Price’s arm. Your legs tried to close around his shoulders and couldn’t, he was too broad, he kept you open, made you take every pulse of it.
It was the kind of orgasm that blanks a mind.
Sound dropped out. Vision whited at the edges. Your ears filled with rushing. Your body just contracted around him over and over, pulsing, milking, trying to drag him even deeper. Hot slick spilled around him, down over your ass, onto the sheet.
“Fuckin’ look at that,” Soap said, half-laugh, half-disbelieving. “She’s squeezin’ the life outta him.”
Ghost’s jaw flexed. He held your hips down, taking it. “That,” he said, voice gone rough, “is better than Graves.”
Price laughed, low and triumphant, hand stroking your cheek as you rode it out. “There we are,” he said. “That’s the record.”
You could only whimper, body shaking, cunt still fluttering around the thick length still buried in you. You weren’t thinking about Berlin. You weren’t thinking about Graves. You weren’t even thinking words. You were just full, and held, and done.
Everything cut to soft static; weightless, cotton wrapped nowhere. Sound went muffled, like you’d ducked under warm water. Your body was still humming on some deep, molten frequency, but your mind had…let go. Like someone had hit the breaker.
You felt big hands moving you, but from far away.
Your leg was lifted- careful, careful, don’t cramp her- then lowered. Cool air on your thighs for a second, then something warm pressing in. You twitched, a tiny reflex, and a palm smoothed down your hip right away.
“Shhh. S’alright.”
You heard it as vibration, not words.
Your body knew them, though. Knew the cadence of their voices, the way each one sat in your bones. Even floaty as you were, they were still buzzing in your nervous system. Nobody else could’ve touched you right then.
You were rolled, whining because you were sore, onto something broad and warm. A chest. Hair rough under your cheek. Beard bristle against your temple. Arms closing around you, not tight, just there. A heartbeat under your ear, deep and steady. You made a small noise, half sigh, half childlike hum, and melted.
“There we are,” Price murmured, and even though you barely heard it, your neck relaxed. “That’s it. Got you.”
Everything else turned into hands and heat.
Someone at your legs, wiping between your thighs in slow, respectful strokes. He paused every time you flinched and whimpered, waited, then kept going. Someone else tugging the sheet away and swapping it for a cleaner blanket. Someone tucked the blanket under you so you stayed warm. Someone lifting your limp hand and putting a bottle in it, then guiding it to your mouth.
“C’mon, sweetheart,” Ghost said, low and uncompromising. “Need water.”
The rim tapped your lip; you didn’t open.
A thumb stroked your jaw, firmer now. “Open.”
Your mouth parted on reflex. Cool water slid in, shocking compared to all the heat. You swallowed slow, almost lazily. It dribbled from the corner of your mouth; someone thumbed it away.
“She’s barely there,” Gaz said, voice soft with that pleased note medics get when a patient is post op and not distressed. “Look at her eyes.”
“She’s lookin’ right through you,” Soap said, proud. “We sent her to fuckin’ space.”
You weren’t following the words, but you were following the touch. Every time you slipped a bit deeper- down, down- someone reeled you back just enough. A hand over your sternum. Fingers in your hair. A palm cupping the back of your neck. You didn’t have to do anything. They were moving you like a sleepy doll.
Your arms wouldn’t work. Your legs felt like they belonged to someone else. Your whole pelvis was one slow, warm ache, like the echo of being filled was still there even though you felt…empty? Clean? You couldn’t tell. Everything was soft.
“…never seen her this quiet…”
“…you almost did break her…”
“…well she asked for it…”
“…Graves couldn’t do that…”
You drifted lower, your nervous system had finally decided, oh, we don’t have to do anything now. We can just exist. Your breathing slowed. Your mouth stayed parted. Your eyes blinked slow and out of sync.
“Christ, look at her eyelashes,” Soap repeated, grinning. “She’s fuckin’ gone.”
Price huffed a laugh, hand big and slow on your back. “Yeah. She’s ours now.”
Ghost was the only one still a touch clinical. “She’s pale?”
“Flushed,” Gaz said, checking your cheek with his knuckles. “Warm. She’s good.”
“Heart?”
“Steady. Bit fast.”
“Yeah, well.” Soap’s grin turned sharp. “We were spectacular.”
That actually tugged a weak breath of a laugh out of you, more an exhale with a shape. Four heads turned toward you instantly, like you were a radio that had just crackled.
“There she is,” Price said, pleased. “Back with us?”
You were and you weren’t.
You could hear them better, now that you’d taken water and your brain had floated a smidge closer to shore. But your body was still out in the warm sea, rocking. Every sound was filtered through cotton. Every touch was in slow motion. You had no urge to move. No urge to talk.
You were aware mostly of warmth. Warm arm under your shoulders. Warm thigh under your hip. Warm palm at your nape. Warm blanket over your legs. Warm, satisfied men around you like a wall.
“Alright,” Soap said, mischief back, because of course he would ruin the soft moment. “Moment of truth, then.”
“Johnny,” Gaz said in warning.
“What? We have to know.”
“We already know,” Ghost said, perfectly calm. “Look at her. She can’t remember her own name.”
“Yeah but I want t’hear it.”
“Ask her later,” Price said. “She’s milk-brained.”
Milk-brained. That made you want to laugh again. It came out a tiny smile against his shirt.
Soap saw it and crowed. “See? She’s not dead.”
“Fine,” Price sighed, indulgent, rubbing your shoulder. “One question. Then you let her sleep.”
“Deal.” Soap leaned over you, upside down in your vision, eyes bright, hair a mess. “Hey. Sweetheart.”
Your eyes slitted open. Barely.
“You with us?”
A slow blink. “Mhm.”
“Gonna ask you a very important thing, yeah?”
Another blink. You were so tired. But his tone was playful and your body trusted him, so you let the sound out: “Mm?”
“How,” Soap said, sounding like he could burst from smugness, “do we compare to Graves?”
The name hit your fogged brain like a stone dropped in deep water- plop… sink… gone.
Your brows knitted faintly. Your mouth worked. You genuinely searched and came up empty. Not a coy empty. Not a “I’ll say this to boost your ego” empty. A real, floaty, no file found empty.
“Who…?” you mumbled, voice slurry, eyes already sliding closed again.
The room erupted.
“Fuckin’ yes,” Soap yelled, triumphant.
“Told you,” Ghost said, not loud but so satisfied it rang.
“God, that’s beautiful,” Gaz said, laughing, head tipped back.
Price’s chest shook under your cheek. “That,” he said, pressing a kiss to your hair, “is what I wanted.”
You were already gone again, body boneless in their hands, drifting on their voices like sleep:
prguitarman
dededos
dailybridgerton
kianamaiart
2087
turnnoffyourmind
tangentwithtanner
