Doing my weeklies on LADS and I get the idea to make a dramatic rom com photo shoot for mc & raf!
Aka the one where MC is just trying to enjoy college life & Rafayel appears telling her she’s from a different planet and she finds out her life is in danger!
Synopsis: A lot can be said about Sukuna. He’s a true warrior. Beastly. A man fully capable of overthrowing the current regime if he wanted, but chooses not to because he’s lazy. He’s also irritatingly persistent, that much is known with how many times he’s come into the brothel demanding your presence rather than going with all the other courtesans he’s been offered… for free, thanks to the power and status that comes with his name.
It's been years now. You can’t hide from him forever, especially not when your mother, the Madame herself, is starting to grow tired of turning him down.
Cw: explicit smut, profanity, alcohol and tobacco use, historical au, loosely inspired by apothecary diaries and demon slayer, sukuna's a menace, the emperor's afraid of him, readers an oiran (highest rank)
notes: I haven't done the tags yet!! so if you asked and see this beforehand, just know im working on it lol.
m.list | chapter one | next chapter
“Lord Sukuna’s here… again.”
The sudden announcement made you and your mother audibly groan. Being the madame that ran the brothel, she was never much of a maternal figure, except for moments like this, where the arrogant general requested your presence.
More like demanded.
He’s been offered other courtesans, as a way to thank him for reigning enough terror in the country to keep everyone in line, but he refuses them each time. Most think it’s entitlement, that his position in society is the reason why he thinks he's deserving of the house's oiran, but it’s unfortunately much deeper than that. It’s something you avoid sharing, mainly because your mothers growing tired of turning the man down and it’d give her a reason to finally give in to his offer.
If only you hadn’t lied and covered for the boy who stole skewers from one of the food stands all those years ago, maybe your freedom wouldn’t feel so threatened whenever he steps foot into the house. No good deed goes unpunished.
At just fifteen years old, Sukuna’s body was already littered with tattoos, of course you recognized him years later at a local festival. And he recognized you as the girl that prevented him from receiving a lashing that day. A new tattoo maybe. He’s been visiting the house ever since, taking the rejection as just a suggestion.
“I don’t understand why you can’t just sit down and have tea with him,” your mother grumbles, letting out an annoyed sigh as she got up from the seat.
“Do you really think he’d stop after just tea?” you argue back.
She waves a hand and clicks her tongue in response, not interested in hearing your reasons as to why you don’t want to take him as a customer. She’s heard it all— he’s scary, he’ll steal your soul, he’s fucking annoying. All lies. The reasons have gotten more and more ridiculous as the years passed. She knows you don’t want to leave, she just won’t say it.
She walks away as you try to come up with another reason, the last thing she needed was getting a headache from you, knowing the young man will give her one in just a few seconds.
By the time she makes her way downstairs, he’s already made himself at home, lazily sitting back in the silk cushions reserved for guests, eating the expensive snacks given to him by the serving girls who are always afraid to give him anything other than the best. They were met with threats the one and only time they’ve offered him tea, so now they give him an entire bottle of sake. Half of the bottle’s gone.
“Lord Sukuna,” she kindly greets him, he sees right through it every single time. “What a pleasure. How can I help you?”
“You ask me that as if I haven’t been asking for the same thing for years now,” he says with a grin, rubbing his undying persistence in her face. It’s insulting, really. “You know why I’m here.”
She knows, and she’s exhausted. Not just from him, but from you. When he’s not off traumatizing others, including the emperor himself, he’s here, trying to strike a deal with the madame who’s known for bleeding men dry of their money. Meanwhile you’re directly upstairs above them. The windows open so you can listen in on their conversation as if you’ll learn something new.
She’s sighs and takes a seat in front of him, eyeballing the crumbs he’s left on the table and floor. There’s none on him though, the bastard brushed them off.
“She’s busy,” she lies, not at all concerned anymore if he believes her or not. Even if you were busy, he wouldn’t believe it. “We’ve welcomed new courtesans into the house, perhaps you’d be interested in meeting them.”
“Yeah, no.”
“Well, guess you’re out of luck then.”
She’s probably the only person that could get away with speaking to him like that, he oddly respects it, though he won’t budge either. Not even if it’s his future mother-in-law. Silence settles between the two, two incredibly hard headed individuals clashing over the most stubborn person of them all— you. The only thing that gets in between it is someone clearing their throat directly above them, he’s pretty sure it’s you. Sukuna’s well aware that you eavesdrop on their conversation and he’s pretty sure you enjoy yourself when doing so.
“Double her price.”
“She’s not for sale,” she responds irritably.
“Triple it,” he stubbornly persists.
She groans, “it’s not about the money.” She’s convinced she could quadruple the price and he’d extort the money out of someone if he, for any reason, couldn’t afford it.
“Sure it is,” he pops a grape in his mouth, “you’re running an entire business, no?”
“I am, but that one's a separate entity of her own,” she reminds him for the millionth time. “Don’t forget her ranking and reputation, she can turn clients down. She could easily be one of the emperor's concubines.”
“And don’t forget that I’m the one who prevented that from happening,” he laughs. The emperor was smart not to follow through with the silly thought of inviting you to the palace.
For a man that enjoys what he does for a living, there really isn’t much Sukuna’s above doing.
The madame stares at him in disbelief, unsure if she should be impressed or disgusted by how corrupt he is— how open he is about it too. She’s lived through war in her childhood and never once thought she’d find herself wishing it’d break out once again, yet here she was wishing he wasn’t so good at his job. Her poker face eventually comes back as she decides it’s time to wrap up the meeting she’s forced to endure multiple times a month.
She smoothes her robe as she stands and holds her hand out for payment.
“For the sake— don’t know why they had to give you the expensive bottle,” she grumbles to herself.
“I’m a man of taste,” he reaches into his pockets and gives her more than enough to replace the bottle.
“You’re a pest.”
“I’m your future son-in-law,” he corrects her with a grin and she laughs, not because she found it funny but because you were right, he is fucking annoying.
Maybe if he were a little nicer, she’d think he was clever for figuring out that you were her daughter. But no, he’s a nuisance. A spoiled, petulant man-child. If only she knew her one and only child would bring her this much trouble...
She won’t finish the rest of that thought. You bring in enough money to make up for it.
“See you next time… mother.”
Maybe not.
“Get the fuck out.”
All he does is snicker to himself, continuing to drink out of the bottle as he strides out of the high-end brothel, as pleased as ever from how easy it was to get under the esteemed Madame’s skin.
And like always, he feels eyes on him just before he steps into the carriage. He glances up and catches a glimpse of you, standing up from the window sill you sat on while listening to yet another failed bargain.
You don’t even try to hide the fact that you hide from him anymore.
The grin on his face grows further when he hears the Madame yelling at you to get your ass downstairs, ready to give you an earful, returning the headache that he had given to her. Not that you care. Doesn’t seem like it at least from the way you walk out of view at a leisurely pace.
“Why can’t you just take the fucking offer?” she hisses at you, not even waiting for you to fully descend the stairs.
You don’t really know why. At first you thought it was because he was a thief turned war criminal, but then you realized you didn’t really care if you ended up in the hands of the nation's most feared man. If you had to be honest with yourself, you’re not exactly against him. At this point, you’re against leaving the comfort of this house.
“Have you seen him?” you ask.
“I have, the serving girls have had to pry you off of customers that are built like him— oh don’t give me that look,” she snaps from the way your eyes widen at the crude remark. “We all know it’s true, you drain the life and vitality out of these men.”
And you’re not looking to stop that anytime soon.
“And the worst part?” she continues, pacing back and forth in frustration, “he knows you enjoy your job. He knows you’re a whore! We’re never getting rid of him.”
“Oh my god— okay— I get it!” you swiftly stop her from rambling. It doesn’t even hurt your feelings when she talks like that, you just don’t want to hear the same script for the hundredth time. You’re just as tired of it as she is with him coming into the brothel to pester anyone he comes into contact with.
“One of these days, I’m making you come down here to face him,” she grumbles, shaking her head as she walks away— most likely going back to the room where all the liquor is stored. “Who knows, maybe he’ll listen to you.”
“Doubt it,” you mutter back.
What could’ve been a forgotten memory has turned into a core one ever since he started visiting the brothel. It started off as him bringing his coworkers with him to drink with some of the lower ranked courtesans, sometimes sleeping with them, in hopes that he could possibly work his way up, all while his salary steadily rose. Buttering up the Madame in a way, raising his chances of buying you out when he finally had enough money.
At one point she did like him, he brought her more business by sending his colleagues there, he even convinced other high ranking officials to rent out the courtesans from your house for events.
But you never came down to greet him, only attending the events that he just so happened to be too busy to attend. After nearly two years of trying and failing to do things the right way, he gave up and started coming on strong, explicitly stating that he wanted your services and your services only.
And no, you’re right, he wouldn’t stop at just having tea with you. He wants to know the girl that stupidly covered for him when he ran into the brothel all those years ago.
It was quiet that day, only to be broken by the typhoon that is Ryomen Sukuna, a troubled orphan at the time.
He was hungry.
It had been days since he’d eaten. Most people wouldn’t even look at him let alone try to help him, believing that he was already too far gone at the age of 15. No parents. No dreams or aspirations. Nothing to live for. They would’ve rather given their food scraps to a dog.
Too bad. Sukuna lived for himself.
He would’ve been more slick had the hunger and dehydration not gotten to him, but he was nearly delirious, blatantly stealing a handful of skewers from a food stand. On most days, he would’ve been able to outrun whoever was chasing him, but not that day. He was surprised he was even able to get away for a moment, after who knows how long the group of grown men had beaten him for.
Men who’d probably never gone a day having to feel a fraction of hunger he felt that day.
He ran for his life, convinced they would’ve killed him if they had caught up to him once more. He turned the corner fast, running toward the first open door he saw— the entrance to the famous Willow House.
Sukuna’s only luck that day was being caught by you and not the Madame, who happened to be out for business.
At first you heard light crashing in one of the storage rooms. It should’ve startled you more, but it was the middle of the day, figuring it was one of the workers slipping up from heat exhaustion. But instead, you crack open the door to find a boy.
Bloodied and battered. Slumped against the wall, panting softly. His shirt was all ripped up, covered in dirt, exposing all the tattoos he’d earned himself thus far. He didn’t say anything, he just glared, but even then there was something behind those sharp eyes of his, begging for mercy for once in his life.
“You there!”
A deep, angry voice from the entrance startled you. Watching you flinch from that and not from sight before you surprised the boy, giving him a smidge of hope when you turned around and walked to the door to face the group of men.
They might as well have been barking at you.
“We’re looking for a boy— pink hair, probably covered in blood. The little bastard stole from a vendor. Someone said he ran in this direction.”
You were practically frozen as they continued to push you for an answer.
You weren’t scared of them, you were scared of your mother coming back. She would’ve reigned hell on everyone, including you for just being there.
“Oi!” one of the men snapped his fingers to grab your attention. She would’ve cut his hand off for it, “Are you fucking deaf? Have you seen a boy running through here or not?!”
You began to stutter, “n-no, I—”
“You’re not allowed to speak to the girls in that house unless you're a paying customer,” your neighbor from across the street yells out.
One of the men snapped his head back, growing angrier at the lack of cooperation, “do you think we give a fuck? We’re looking for a thief right now.”
“You should,” your neighbor suppressed a laugh. “The madame of that house doesn’t mess around with her girls. She’ll cut your tongues out herself if she catches you yelling at them, especially that one.”
The three men froze, the description of the woman sounded familiar. If it was the same woman they were thinking of, they absolutely had the right to feel unsettled, hence why they didn’t bother to push the matter any further.
“Tch— whatever,” one muttered. “We’ll find that kid eventually, not like pinky’s hard to miss.”
They didn’t even bother to say another word to you before walking off, continuing their search. As for you, you shut the door. It shouldn’t have even been open in the first place.
Sukuna was still in the storage closet when you came back to him with a glass of water, half-unconscious, slightly flinching from the pain as the adrenaline wore off. He stared at you for a moment when you tried handing him some water, wondering if it came with a catch. After the long stare off, he figured if there was one, it would’ve been worth it. He couldn’t remember the last time he had cold water.
“...Are you hungry?” you eventually asked, trying to fill the silence between you two.
He hesitated. Even after getting beat within an inch of his life, he still had pride. But just the thought of food made his stomach continue to sting. He was so fucking hungry.
“Yeah,” he muttered, unable to meet your eyes. “A little.”
“I figured,” you muttered back. He could’ve sworn he heard a little sadness in your voice when you told him to wait there, rushing out of the room. If he hadn’t been in that much pain, he probably would’ve laughed from hearing your feet hurriedly pattering in and out of the storage room.
You weren’t gone for too long. The most he expected from you were some stale crackers, maybe a riceball if you were feeling generous enough. When you came back with a tray full of fresh food, his jaw nearly dropped.
Miso soup, a couple riceballs, an entire skewer of chicken, and more ice water. All he could think about at that moment was that you absolutely had no concept of what money was, and…
“I’m not gonna owe you for this, am I?” he groans, trying his best not to sound ungrateful.
You tilt your head in confusion, “why would you owe me for this?”
Yeah. You were definitely spoiled.
“You're draped in silk and gold,” he mutters, nodding his head at your clothing. “People like you don’t just give things away without expecting something in return.”
“Oh, I–” you cut yourself off, embarrassment creeping up on you. Even if you weren’t taking clients like that just yet, it was still weird to talk about with a boy around your age. “I’m not expecting anything in return. I just– you’re practically salivating right now just looking at the food. Can you just eat already?”
Your sudden nervousness pulled a smirk out of the boy. Though he had a cut on his lip, he immediately winced right after.
“Here,” you pushed the tray closer to him, urging him to eat.
“Thanks,” he mumbled, taking a bite out of one the rice balls, attempting to be respectful by not immediately scarfing the food down. It didn’t last long, he finished the meal in just minutes.
You of course didn’t leave him in the storage room, nor did you tell him to leave. You didn’t have the heart for that, he would’ve been caught with the way that group of men interrogated everyone in the area.
“Is this your room?” he asked cautiously after you snuck him upstairs and closed the door to the spacious room. It smelled nice, like jasmine and incense. Clean too, not too cluttered aside from the vanity covered in makeup, hair pins, and perfume bottles.
“Yeah… but you’ll be safe here, the Madame never comes into my room,” you assured him.
“You sure?” He began to look around the room, then back at the door.
“Mhm,” you nodded. “Wait until the early morning when everyone's asleep to leave, I doubt you’ll get caught by then. You can sleep until then, you look tired.”
“You’re not afraid of me stealing your things?”
“I mean… I’m hoping I gave you enough so you don’t,” you responded awkwardly.
“Some logic you got there, princess,” he chuckled.
The response should’ve worried you, but something in you knew you could trust him to be good for the rest of his stay.
And he was.
He was still asleep in your bed by the time you came back up to your room, after spending the night playing the koto for some regulars. You thought about waking him up, letting him know it was safe for him to leave, but you let him be, figuring he needed the rest.
Instead you set some hairpins beside him, along with a little note telling him to sell them so he’d be able to buy his next meal rather than steal it.
Afterwards, you curled up next to him and fell asleep. He was warm, it was nice.
He was long gone by the time you woke up, the only evidence that he was ever there were the missing hairpins and note, along with the blanket he used, leaving it folded up neatly beside you.
You never got his name, yet you still remembered him a couple years later during a festival. No longer a pitiful orphan that needed to be helped, but a grown man dressed in black and dark red attire, the kind of attire you were only allowed to wear if you were a high-ranking general in the imperial army.
No longer the boy that had to work quickly and hide in the sidelines, but a man that people stepped aside and made room for. A man people were afraid to look at. A man people feared.
You were finally able to put a face on the infamous Ryomen Sukuna, a familiar one at that.
And he was finally able to put a face on the Willows House’s notorious oiran, the sweet albeit spoiled girl who helped him without hesitation during a time where everyone wanted him dead.
Of course he recognized you as fast as you recognized him.
Yall they went back on their word about Caleb for LADS and I am not happy. Idc if it is a work of fiction, incest should not be romanticized. Y’all fucking gross. You want that shit? Go live in Alabama or something and just it to yourself. It’s 2925 not 1057 with King George whatever-the-fuck. Fucking defender Caleb for half a year after reading his stuff and shit they did that is awful. I sincerely hope New York finds out about what they did for this new banner and denies them of showing it because keep that shit to yourself please and thank you.
LMFAOOO people seething at pure fiction. This is also a funny topic imo cause My MC is black and Caleb is not black so I am not following LADS lore lmfao. It’s not that deep!
𑣲 NOTES — are the bad dragon-esque dildos necessary and relevant to the plot (what plot)? no. did I want them there for funsies? yes!!! have fun reading!
"What do you want to see tonight?" You ask into the laptop resting on your bed, crossing your legs as you wait for his response.
Three dots pop up in the chat box.
XYZ_02 is typing…
You lightly trace the floral pattern on your light blue stockings. They're new and a little itchy. You're hoping he asks you to take them off.
XYZ_02 loves when you strip, slowly unveiling your body inch by inch until you're completely bare.
Your laptop chimes, and you draw your eyes away from the lace to read the screen.
XYZ_02: just wanna see you.
"How sweet," you chuckle, with a roll of your eyes. You lean down a bit, letting the camera get a nice view of your breasts that nearly spill out of the matching floral, lace bralette. "But, you'll have to be a little more specific than that."
XYZ_02: start slow then.
Your lips quirk up as you pull back from the screen. Looks like you know him well.
You position your top half off screen to give him a full view of your bent legs in front of the camera. Two fingers pinch the edge of your stockings down.
Ding!
You glance at the chat.
XYZ_02: let me see your pretty face too.
Somehow he always gets you a little flustered with his sweet talk. Your cheeks burn as you move in front of the camera, pushing the laptop back to fit all of yourself in frame.
"How's this?"
XYZ_02: good girl.
You bite your lower lip to resist your smile. This guy is probably some elderly man with cash to blow, and you're sitting in bed on a Friday night flushing over his praises. You need to pull it together.
Settling on a good position where your knees are tucked to your chest, you continue where you left off, pinching the edge of your stockings and sliding them down.
You look at yourself through the screen. Your makeup is minimal tonight. The main draw being a dark, smudged eyeliner to give off a sultry look. At least, you hope it does.
You're still new to this. The ins and outs of it all are unfamiliar, and you're not sure what works. But XYZ_02 is the only one who keeps coming back. So, there must be something you're doing right.
XYZ_02: slower.
The single command is enough to make you pussy clench. You almost hate how easily you grow weak to his simple messages.
Simple and direct. He knows what he wants, knows just how to ask for it. He's not like other chatters you've encountered, completely vulgar and demanding.
There's something intimate in the way he talks. You can almost feel him with you, each message acts as his hands and guides you toward blinding pleasure. But then again, maybe you're reading too much into it, placing imaginary characteristics onto a faceless username to get yourself off easier.
You do as he says, peeling down your stocking slower until you can pull it all the way off and toss it to the side.
Ding!
XYZ_02 tipped $5!
The tip doesn't surprise you. XYZ_02 always tips for every article of clothing you take off. Five for each stocking, ten for your bra, and twenty—sometimes fifty if he's feeling extra giving—for your underwear.
Your fingers brush over the exposed skin of your knee as you smile. "Thank you, XYZ."
XYZ_02: ;)
You continue with the other stocking, another tip chime, before moving onto your bra. You sit up on your spread knees. A slight arch to your back as you lean forward on one hand. It helps to push your breasts together, showing them off to the camera. Fingers delicately glide over your breasts, outlining the curve of the ample flesh, and you tease your bra strap off your shoulder.
"Off or pulled down?" You slip the left cup down to give him a peek at your pebbled nipple.
XYZ_02: whatever you want.
XYZ_02 tipped $10!
You opt for off, following the same languid movements to pop open the clasp, letting it slip off your body. All that's left is your panties, snug around your hips and clinging to your growing arousal.
Anticipation grows. You spread your thighs apart to show off the darker patch of your sheer, lace panties. Your hips shift across the sheets like you're needy for something to be stuffed in your cunt, whether it's fingers or a cock.
"I wanna touch myself," you whine, leaning against your headboard. Your hands grope your chest, toying with your pert nipple, but wanting nothing more than to move closer to your throbbing cunt. "Can I?"
XYZ_02: not yet.
XYZ_02: want to try something new.
XYZ_02: if you're up for it.
XYZ_02: Join XYZ_02's private room here.
You pause, sitting up now, and stare at the link. You hands fall into your lap. A private room is typically for face-to-face calls.
XYZ_02 wants to show you his face…
It's illusion breaking to even think about seeing XYZ_02's real face. So far, he's just been a blank figure in your head and that makes it easier to get off.
But, you can't deny the curiosity. Putting a face to the username.
"Um, sure," you swallow. "I don't mind."
Just joined 80085GUY
You pause over the end button.
It might be better to stay in the room and have the opportunity to get yourself another regular. XYZ_02 will understand. He's been very patient so far.
80086GUY: wheres ur pussy @??
You recoil from the screen, scrunching your nose. In second thought, maybe you don't want another regular.
"Shows over," you snap, ending your stream. You're left with the chat log open.
What if he's just like that chatter when you actually talk to him alone? You can always just block him from your streams, but then again you'd be losing out on your best donor.
XYZ_02 is typing …
XYZ_02: second thoughts?
XYZ_02: no hard feelings if you change your mind.
XYZ_02: I'll still be your #1 fan ;p
Silly.
You click the join button without anymore deliberation. His red apple icon shows up instead of his video, and it's quiet on his end.
"Hello?" You say.
There's some rustling and a slight clatter on his end. You wait, heart thudding against your chest.
His video turns on after a second and who appears in focus is not an older man with graying hair, instead it's a man close to your age.
"Fuck," you mutter under your breath because XYZ_02 is hot—really, really hot.
His outfit suggests he just came back from the gym. A white compression tank top which show off his biceps with gray shorts that almost hug his thighs. You can't help but imagine those strong arms holding you up as he fucks you dumb from behind.
He smirks, and you're not sure if it's because he heard you. "Hey."
And his voice is hot too?
This is the man who's been sending you money and helping you get off each week with his simple messages. It feels too good to be true.
"Hi," you breathe, trying to control your beating heart with slow breaths. "Nice to meet you, I guess."
"Yeah," he huffs, shifting in his seat. Only then are your eyes drawn to the bulge in his shorts. "Didn't think I'd be brave enough to ask you for this. I'm glad you agreed though."
He looks huge.
"Me too," you stammer, subtly trying to rub your thighs together. "So, what's your name? Or would you prefer XYZ?"
"Just Caleb."
His name rolls off your tongue easily and you catch the way his eyes widen as he shifts his hips.
You glance away, wondering how to continue, and spot a box on your dresser, something you've been eager about before the stream even started.
"Oh, I have a few things you might like," you exclaim, moving to grab a box on your bedside table. You set it down on your lap and pull off the lid. "Want to guess what they are?"
You don't give him a chance to respond before pulling out two dildos that just came in the mail. They're both uniquely shaped monster cocks you bought after a curious late night browse. You were extremely excited to try them on stream tonight, and now you're hoping that Caleb is also interested in seeing you play with them.
He nods his head to the left. "What's the purple one supposed to be?"
You eye the pretty purple base to pink tip fade. What drew you to it in the first place was the scaly texture along the thick shaft.
"Eh, I was just a little curious about what it'd be like to fuck a merman," you hum, running your thumb over the rough texture.
"I like the other one."
You tuck away the merman dildo, for now, and show off the other—a werewolf cock, ribbed below the tip, leading down a veiny shaft to a thicker knot. You were kind of hoping he'd choose this one.
"But I think you'd be prettier on my cock."
Your eyes snap back to the screen where Caleb has a cocky grin. This kind of confidence is unfamiliar to you. As XYZ_02, Caleb rarely made comments about being with you physically. But this side of him isn't too bad because you wouldn't mind imagining that either.
"You'll have to send me a mold if you want to see that," you tease.
"Sure."
You pause at that. Caleb continues to look at you, completely serious. "You would?"
"Yeah." He slides up the hem of his tank top, revealing the line of his happy trail. "Think you could handle it though?"
Your mouth turns dry as he pushes down his shorts to free his half hard cock. He's thick with a pretty mushroom head that slightly leans toward his abdomen.
"With some prep," you choke out. You're not doubting yourself, but the stretch he'd give you would make your toes curl immediately.
He nods his head. "That dildo is more than enough prep then."
You nearly forgot you were holding it in your hand, gripping the shaft for dear life as you tried not to drool over Caleb's dick.
"Use it for now."
For now. A promise to come.
You nod, still ogling his cock as you slip off your damp panties. Your cunt is in full view for Caleb.
Being naked in front of a camera was easier when you were just looking at a screen and reading a few words. But, now that you can see the way Caleb's hungry eyes roam over you on screen, you're a tad bit self conscious. Your thighs press together as you kneel, but you don't allow your face to give anything away, keeping a sweet smile on.
"Ride it," he orders. He grips his cock, thumbing over the pearly precum leaking from his tip. "I wanna see you take that knot."
Your poor pussy clenches at his stern command and you pull your thighs apart again. You run your hand over your chest, teasing your nipples to peeks, before gliding over your stomach. When your finger reaches the tiny bud nestled between your folds, you bite your lower lip as you draw slow circles around your clit.
Caleb doesn't take his eyes off you. The muscles in his jaw ticks as he watches the way your hips buck into your hand. Your fingers work against your clit until you're trembling against them and dripping down your thighs. You dip into your pussy to gather up the mess leaking out of you.
You raise your fingers to the camera with a proud grin before popping them into your mouth, sucking off your own tangy juices.
Caleb groans, working up his cock with measured strokes.
You finally align the tip of the dildo with your dripping pussy, gliding it along your folds to coat it in your wetness, and sink. Once it begins to breach your tight hole, you moan as it spreads you open slow.
You take as much as you can before it starts to ache, as you feel the bulbous knot kissing your lips, and lean against the headboard for support. It's too much to take for now, too thick to stuff inside your untrained cunt.
"Fuck," he groans, "look at you. Taking it like a good girl. Think you can fit all that in you?"
"Y-Yes," you moan, rising just an inch before sinking back down. You'll show him just how good you can be.
You force yourself lower, popping the knot past your entrance with a sharp gasp. You head lolls back, brain turning into mush. It's so much. Almost too much to take. You've never been so full before, so stretched open. Your thighs tremble as you try to keep yourself upright. "Fuck- fuck!"
When you're finally able to open your eyes and look at your screen, Caleb is stoking himself languidly. He sunk into his cushions with a lowered gaze watching you intently.
"Feeling good?"
He looks so relaxed while you're nearly coming apart around the dildo. You wonder if this is what he looks like when he watches your streams. Keeping himself on the edge while he types out orders for you.
You want to watch him lose composure too. You pull the laptop closer, angling the camera so it has good view of your dripping pussy stretched around the knot.
"Yeah, it's so, so good," you moan, rocking your hips. You press down on your abdomen, feeling the knot against your throbbing walls, and whine, "mmh, it feels so deep, Caleb."
You hear something akin to a whimper and a curse from Caleb and the frantic, slick sounds of him stroking his cock.
"Been w-wanting to hear you say my name for so long," he moans.
When you get a peak at the screen, you find Caleb with a firm grip on himself, watching you with an almost dazed expression.
"W-Wish I could be in you right now," he groans, head falling back against the couch. His Adams apple bounces as he pants.
This is much better than reading his words in chat.
You keep up the pace with his hand, bouncing on your dildo but imagine his cock in its place. Thick and veiny bullying deep into your tight pussy. The slick sounds of both your movements and panting blend together.
You're both close. His breaths are heavier, coming in and out of your speakers as his mic tries picking up on his stuttered moans.
"Ngh, 'm so close," you pant, moving to rub your swollen clit again. You ignore the way your thighs burn and your body begs for rest, exhausted but still desperately chasing that sweet release.
"I love watching you come. Shit," he hisses, pinching the head of his cock. "You look so pretty with your head thrown back, moaning and crying. Just wanna leave some marks on you."
"Mhm, what else? Would you kiss me? Do you wanna e-eat—ahh!—eat me out too?" Your finger works faster against your clit until your legs are trembling, and you have no choice but to find support against the headboard again. Leaning against it allows your hips to angle out, giving him a nice view of your drooling pussy, clenching around the thick shaft.
"If that's what you need. I'll do whatever you want, pretty girl."
The airy way he says your favorite name forces your orgasm to rip through you. His name falls from your lips like a desperate prayer as you ride out your orgasm around the dildo. You sink against your bed, keeping the toy inside of you for now. Your cunt still squeezing around the knot as it holds itself in place.
Fluttering eyes stay open to watch as Caleb comes with you, ropes of white splashing onto his tank top as he curses. He makes a whiny sound, stuttered and breathless.
Caleb strips off his shirt to wipe down the cum on his hand. The sight of his toned chest and abs make you clench down on the toy again. So much skin that needs marking.
You both look at one another, steadying your breaths.
You lick your parched lips, tasting a bit of your cherry lip gloss still left. "See you next time, Caleb."
He chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief, and runs a hand through his hair as he sinks lower on the couch. "See ya."
A/N — as always, comments and reblogs very much appreciated (I will give you a big virtual smooch) thanks for reading! ( ◜‿◝ )♡
sequel where you get a new viewer named 1emur1an who wants to see you use the merman dildo and wonders if you can take two at once ooh who said that!?!??!
I normally don’t talk about LADS and mostly have become a reblog account but man I’m lowkey kinda sad I pulled Sylus, like I just want rafayel to come homeeee. My rng on this game fucking sucks! 58 more pulls (aka spending hella money) is the only way I’ll pull him cause I’ve maxed out on weekly limits on everything and there’s so little time left of the event 🥹☹️
And I’m only sad bc I knew I’d get sylus, He’s not even in my top 3 bro, it was Rafayel, Caleb & then Zayne 💔 I fuckingggg knew I’d pull him 😭 now I wish Iput him first on wish point so I’d have a chance at the other guys. & I’m trying not to seem ungrateful but like I’ve been grinding for 4 days, trying to not spend money on this game, 4k diamonds were used, & I spent a little over 10 bucks on this pull like I’m so upsetttt
I normally don’t talk about LADS and mostly have become a reblog account but man I’m lowkey kinda sad I pulled Sylus, like I just want rafayel to come homeeee. My rng on this game fucking sucks! 58 more pulls (aka spending hella money) is the only way I’ll pull him cause I’ve maxed out on weekly limits on everything and there’s so little time left of the event 🥹☹️
Ft. Yuji x Reader, drabbling about how needy he gets during those early morning makeout sessions. Minors dni!
You’d both drank through the night. Celebrating passing those midterms that you studied hard for. Work was going well, classes were going well and this thing that you had going with Yuji was going extremely well. You were supposed to go to bed, you had work but Yuji was convincing you to call off work hours ahead so you could stay up. The smooth talker that he is even came up with a convincing excuse for you as well.
So you were both laughing, attempting to sober up but Yuji proposed another toast and then somehow a drinking game became involved and of course one thing led to another and now you were both half dressed and sprawled across the L shaped couch, laughing and exchanging sweet whispers to one another. He’s laying underneath you, his large frame hold you in place, arm resting comfortably against your lower back, hugging you close, you lay draped across him, leg hanging over his lap, every once in a while you’d palm his erection through his boxers and he’d groan, eyes snapping shut as he softly moaned, hips jerking upward following the warmth of your hand.
Yuji loved this, every bit of it, he loved the way you nip at his lips, drinking him in feverently, he felt utterly pathetic beneath you and he knows you love him like this, knows that you secretly enjoy the control. You kiss his jaw, sloppy and open mouth down his neck and he whimpers when your warm breath hits that spot behind his ear, he can feel your lips form a smile against him, as you kiss him there.
You moan against his neck, your hips moving forward against him, before you can do it again he grabs you by the hips, lifting you until you’re directly on top of him, the bulge in his boxers fits snug against your pussy and you mewl into his neck when he rocks his hips upward into your needy pussy. He groans, gripping your ass like his life depends on it. Pride stirs in your chest realizing just how desperate he his after spending the last couple of hours exchanging touches and kisses.
You move your head back to look at him, his face is flushed red, and he’s looking at you with so much adoration you feel yourself clenching on emptiness, the need to have him inside you so evident but you’re enjoying this as is. He leans forward silently asking for your lips and you tease him at first, pulling backward every time his lips are ghosting over yours. You giggle so cruel and he huffs. He grabs your face, mumbling about you playing too much before licking at your lips. You’re eager to please him now, having had your fun with him you let him kiss you and he’s pitiful about it, he feels his face rush with heat at that familiar warmth spreading through his lower body. You feel him tense up and know that he’s close, you roll your hips, grinding against him and it’s pathetic really, nothing is stopping him from just fucking you but you know that he’s thinking it feels way too good to stop so he’d rather just cum now and not later.
You coax him to cum for you, moaning and whimpering against his neck as you speed up. Your voice strums through him and he can feel himself gripping your hips to a complete halt and he’s gasping lightly, cursing your name as he spills in his boxers.
Bakugo is nervous around you, once you officially start to date. He'll never say so, of course, but you see the tension he carries in his shoulders the first time you come over for a meal he cooked, and he watches you take your first bite while pretending he isn't. Needing so badly to know that you like it, that he's doing this right, and he only looks away on a low exhale of a sigh when he sees you close your eyes and groan at your first delicious bite.
You know he's going to kiss you for the first time about ten minutes before he does, because you can just feel the change in his body when he realizes that the meandering walk you've taken home from the restaurant will bring you to your front door soon. You actually go right for the handle when you arrive, his nerves putting you a touch on edge too, but he stops you with a low murmured,"hey," and a hand wrapped around your wrist.
And you physically bump into him when he tugs you lightly, so caught off guard because he's been so reserved with touching you so far, but when you tilt your head back to look up at his face, you see the color in the tips of his ears, spreading a bit into his cheeks. From the chill of the big, fat snowflakes falling around you, maybe, but maybe from him touching your jaw with his thumb as his eyes search yours in the soft light of your stoop.
The moment lingers, the pad of his thumb catching on your lower lip, and when you part your lips to speak, drawing in a breath, he murmurs, " 'm just - " and draws your face to yours.
His mouth is soft against yours. From his quirk, maybe, but he presses his mouth to yours the way someone hold something very precious to them. Breathing out through his nose, a little loud, a little nervous, as he shifts closer to you and presses closer still.
And you trade quiet, breathless kisses there in the falling snow. His fingers touching at your hairline, curling around your ear and keeping you pressed against him as you learn the shape of each other here.
You nip at his lower lip, just a instinctive little bite and he groans, and pushes. Moves you until you're pressed up against your door as he ducks lower and tilts your head further to meet him. Opening his mouth over yours on a gutted sound, making you shiver at the first taste of his tongue against yours.
He's nothing like you expected, you think. You'd just assumed he would be in this the way he is in all things - strong and dominating and sharp.
But when he pulls back from you at last, his cheeks flushed and mouth wet as he looks down at you like he's just experienced something religious, you think to yourself that you've maybe never wanted him more.
