cw: could be dubcon, flashback to gojo being kindaaaaa a bully
oh nothing just a reminder of before you were together and gojo was fucking you hard in one of the disabled toilets during lunch because you accidentally brushed past him too closely, and now he's rock hard.
his body encompasses your against the wall, his hand covering your mouth whilst the other wraps around your waist, holding you against him, unable to squirm away. his cock is so wet from you, pale and shiny as it fills you up over and over again, hitting deep as he slams hard into you.
"shhhh, babygirl, quiet now." he whispers in your ear, his own voice panting and warm against your ear. his hips snap against yours, so much so that your legs begin to weaken. he tuts, responding by tightening his hold around you. it feels so good, every ridge and vein makes its way in and out of you, the perfect size to drive you crazy. you whine and pant under gojo's hand, eyes rolling back in desperation.
"shit, you're gonna cum, aren't you? gonna cum all over your tormentor's cock? yeah, yeah you are." his voice turns mocking as you try to shake your head, body now conflicted. he was right, he was an absolute asshole to you in front of everyone else. but alone? his dick was too good to combat, far better then any you'd had (or not had), that it didn't seem to matter. him dragging you away did often end in you cumming, after all.
"come on, come on pretty girl, give me what i want." he angles your hips slightly, allowing him to hit just a bit deeper as he takes his hand off your mouth. "say 'you own me', okay?"
"n-no, no-"
"ah ah, no silly girl. that's not what i asked."
you huff and try to push against his hips, trying to gain leverage. he catches on instantly, shoving your body full against the wall with his cock, forcing you to take it deep whilst he holds you firm.
"what's wrong with you, huh? i think you've gotten a little too comfortable." he reaches his hand around to grab your neck, almost enveloping it. "do i need to teach you a lesson? a reminder of who owns you, sweetheart?"
you shake your head, attempting to appeal to him, but it's no use. he shakes his head, tutting in response.
"looks like i'm just gonna have to fuck the brat out of ya." his hips suddenly pull away before slamming back into you, forcing a gasp out of you. "you are mine to fucking put to shame, alright?"
he begins his threatening pace again, his hand on your neck making sure you don't try to defy him again. despite the pain of his thrusts against you, shoving you into the wall repeatedly, you don't defy him.
Frat boy kuna who tries to convince you to elope with him while, you guys are finishing up college. He knows it’s not ideal for you even in the slightest but fuck he wanted to be yours so badly. Sukuna was obsessed with you, it wasn’t enough to just show you off at frat parties or tattoo your name on him all over, he needed to be your husband. He knew how important your studies were to you though, and it was no way you would stop them just to have a marriage ceremony. That’s why eloping was the next best thing for him. He spent hours looking at rings just to get you to at least consider the idea. Even a maybe was better than nothing. You guys had been in his room at the frat house when he popped the question. His large body laying on top of yours entrapping you with his warmth to cover you from the aching cold of the back to school season.
“Would you say it’s too soon for us to get married?”
“What?”
“I mean…would you? Honestly, what do you think about it?"
“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”
“I don’t joke about shit like that. I’m serious. What’s stopping us? We could just go to the courthouse and get married and not tell anyone. Then we would have one another forever.”
“You been thinking about marrying me Kuna? That’s so cute.” “M’ being for real right now and you’re joking.”
“…”
“…”
“Well it’s not a horrible idea. Elope now and then have a big wedding when we graduate and have good jobs.”
Sukuna sat up so fast he nearly fell off the bed and had to grab on to you to steady his grip. He couldn’t believe you were actually consider it. He thought it’d be a flat out no.
“Really?”
“You gonna promise me a real big wedding later on”
“baby idk give you the damn world if you want it. You make me so happy you know that?”
“i want you to know that i’ll choose you in every single lifetime. and in one of those lifetimes, i will be the one doing this to you.”
still riding out the dizzying aftershocks of yet another climax, you mumble into the crook of your lover’s neck. the eager thrusts cease abruptly, leaving you with that delicious stretch where you can feel him throbbing inside like a second heartbeat.
satoru tilts his head, looking down at you with a slight pout. eyes of the most exquisite azure blink in elaborate bewilderment (and perhaps a flicker of hurt). that is, until you take his wrist, guiding his palm downward to gently rest against your lower belly. a distinct bulge, sensitive to the touch. that certainly wasn’t there five orgasms ago.
throwing his head back, he erupts into peals of unhinged laughter. the vibrations send straight through where your sweat-slicked bodies are connected, causing you to wince and reflexively clench your walls around his fat girth—making him groan mid-chortle.
“aw that’s so romantic baby, what the actual fuck was that?”
tears of amusement are now gathering at the corners of his eyes. honestly, you struggle to find it nearly as funny as he does. but then he dips down to nuzzle your cheek, with a roll of his hips that has you arching off the mattress with a loud mewl. gone completely is the torrent of sheepish apologies from the very first time he ever managed to fit inside you fully, long since replaced by cheekiness. now—in true satoru fashion—he unapologetically and lovingly stuffs his girl full.
“heh, i don’t doubt it for a second, though. in another universe you’d be packing for sure.”
he cooes, the thick ridges of his veins rubbing against your plushy walls as though molding their shape into you with every squelching, wet inch he takes before sheathing himself entirely to the hilt. an unified sigh escapes from you both. despite knowing it’s physiologically impossible, you could swear you feel the tip of his cock in your tummy.
“and, for the record...”
he gently boops your nose before pressing a light kiss to the tip of it. “i’ll choose you in every lifetime, alternative reality, universe, whatever. and let you put your big dick inside me.”
sukuna grinding his cock up into you in the middle of a frat party, lazily rolling his hips up to hit that sweet spot and keeping your back pressed against your chest as he murmured in your ear, "you gonna moan?"
shaking your head no to stop yourself from whimpering at the weight of his forearm wrapped possessively around your waist while drunk frat bros passed you by, chatting about stupid shit and gawking at sorority girls and totally clueless to the way you were getting ruthlessly stretched out around your situationship's thick cock.
"y-you wish," you quietly insisted, biting down on the bottom of your lip just for him to laugh at you, your skirt flipped up as your lace thong started to chaff against the inside of your thigh.
"i do," he hummed, his teeth grazing against the inside of your throat. "want them to know who's fucking you like this."
"no thanks," you huffed at him, trying your hardest to keep a straight face when he was intent to keep you squirming on his lap. no one else needed to know what you shared. which you were sure should just be sex. no matter what either of you said in the heat of the moment. "m'not yours."
We know that Zayne is 27, Valko is 26, and Caleb is 25. Considering Zayne prolly stayed away from Linkon from Primary to,,, maybe Uni? Caleb also moved away to study, and Valko... Well, we don't know but indulge me on this.
WHAT IF THEY ATTENDED THE SAME UNIVERSITY?
Like it was on accident, since the 3 of them are rlly smart n talented, they were able to attend the top university of the world or something.
They're all in different fields but it's still in STEM, and they probably share the same location, if not the same building (probably not tho).
Zayne first arrived and he's amazing, top student in Science, etc. In his 2nd year, he made friends (maybe thru competition or whatever) with a Technology student, Valko. Two years after that, he finds a familiar name on top of the Engineering leaderboard, specifically in Aerospace and Aviation: Caleb, who was on his 2nd year by then.
Zayne is on his 4th year but since he's medical field,,, 8 years to graduate, I think? Valko's on his 3rd year.
Before Caleb, Zayne and Valko would just pass by each other, say hi, maybe nod at each other, but never really hang out. Until Caleb.
Apparently Valko has been chatting up both upper and lowerclassmens, making friends everywhere, and Caleb fits his vibe so they quickly became friends. After Zayne and Caleb rekindled, Caleb invites both seniors out to drink. One night, Zayne ended up super drunk and the three stumble their way to Zayne's dorm room. Making sure he doesn't die, the other two slept over, and that bonding experience has changed the status of their friendship ever since.
I imagine midterms and finals week are the most fun, because it's 3 super smart geniuses trying to not die from over-studying, and it actually helps because being with each other helps with their nerves. They go to Zayne's room, bc it's clean.
It's also cute because there's no competition. No one's beating anyone. They can be the top students of their respective fields, so there's no friendship-breaking pressure to win against one another.
yearner childhood bestfriend caleb ؛ telling him you love him for the first time while he is fucking you so deep
you’re half-sprawled across the living-room couch, one knee hooked over the back cushions, the other leg dangling off the edge.
caleb is between your thighs, jeans shoved down just far enough, his shirt still on because neither of you had the patience to get fully undressed.
he’s been fucking you slow and deep for a while now, long rolling thrusts that make the couch cushions shift under you every time he pushes in.
you’re already a mess, shirt shoved up under your chin, one of his hands occasionally sliding down to squeeze your breast or grip your hip and pull you harder onto him.
it’s too good, the kind of good that makes your thoughts go soft and stupid, you’re clutching at his shoulders, nails digging in, and the next time he drives in deep and grinds there for a second, the words just fall out of you on a broken moan.
“i love you—”
caleb freezes.
mid-thrust. still buried inside you, his eyes lock onto yours, wide and dark, like he didn’t quite hear it right, the only sound for a second is both of you breathing hard and the soft creak of the couch.
then a low, chuckle leaves him.
“you love me?”
he pulls almost all the way out then sinks back in to the hilt with one firm stroke that makes your head tip back against the cushions, his forehead drops to yours, voice rough and close, a little shaky under the heat.
“well fuck… i’ve loved you ever since.”
he starts moving again, deeper now, like the confession just unlocked something, every thrust is harder, more intentional, the couch rocking under the two of you.
“since we were kids building forts in your backyard. since every sleepover where i had to pretend i wasn’t staring at you the whole time. since the first time i realized i wanted to be the one who got to touch you like this.” his hips snap forward, punching a soft cry out of you.
“i’ve wanted you for so fucking long it made me crazy. every time you hugged me. every time you laughed at something only i said. i’ve been dying to hear you say it, didn’t expect you’d say it while i’m inside you.”
he chuckles then shifts hooking one of your legs higher over his arm so he can get even deeper. the new angle makes you gasp, and he doesn’t let up, long strokes that keep you pinned to the couch.
“i’ve thought about this,” he mutters against your mouth, kissing you messy between words. “you under me. you saying you love me while i’m fucking you stupid. i’ve jerked off to the idea more times than i can count.” another hard thrust. “and now you’re actually said it. fuck, baby…”
one hand slides under your lower back, lifting you so he can grind deep and stay there for a second each time, making sure you feel every inch.
your fingers tangle in his hair, the other hand gripping the back of the couch for something to hold onto as he keeps talking telling you how many nights he lay awake wanting exactly this, how many times he almost kissed you and chickened out, how good it feels to finally have you open and wet and whispering that you love him while he ruins you on the couch you’ve both sat on a thousand times before.
the pace builds, the wet sound of him moving in and out of you fills the quiet living room, your moans get louder, less controlled, and he answers every one with another deep thrust and another soft “i love you too” against your skin, like he’s been waiting years to say it back while he was inside you.
sneaking around with best friend!geto is all fun and games until pretty girls start feeling up his biceps at the bar :(
“someone jealous?” gojo snickered in your ear, slinking up by your side as he waved the bartender over to order another obnoxiously fruity and brightly-colored beverage while you nursed your own suddenly bitter drink.
“yeah, you,” you sarcastically muttered, refusing to feed into his (correct) suspicions that you were sleeping with your mutual friend. the year you’d spent between geto’s sheets didn’t make you his girlfriend though.
not that you ever asked to be either.
“come on,” he goaded, his hip bumping into yours as he cocked his head towards where geto was currently getting groped by a manicured hand. “i know you want to pry him away.”
“so you can grab him next?” you teased, trying to deflect as you twisted around just for his hand to cage you in between his broad frame and the bar top. his pretty blue eyes were fuzzy though, pupils blown wide as you realized that maybe what he’d been sipping on tonight weren’t mocktails after all.
“nah,” he grinned, white teeth glinting as he leaned in lower. “think i’d rather grab you.”
“how much have you had to drink?” you exhaled, eyes drifting down to his glossy lips, lingering there a little longer than they should.
“enough to want a taste of you,” he shamelessly smirked at his attempt to be seductive, his palm sliding up your side as if it always had a place there.
you’d never taken any of his flirting seriously.
but maybe you should’ve.
considering whether or not imploding your situationship over sleeping with your other friend as gojo’s fingertips gracefully slipped down to disappear underneath your dress.
“you’re touching something of mine,” a honeyed voice interrupted with a drawn-out huff, but gojo didn’t pull away.
and a new idea blossomed, your mouth curling up as you glanced between the two men too busy glaring at each other to notice the sparkle in your stare.
what better way to punish your man by showing him just how swiftly a certain someone else would swoop in to steal you?
“boys,” you hummed, clicking your tongue. “don’t you know how nice Paris is right now?”
toji fucking you for so long that your poor pussy is a fucking mess. folds puffy, clit swollen, a combination of your juices and his sliding down between your thighs and onto the towel he has under you. you can’t even bring yourself to hold onto him anymore because all of your limbs are numb.
your head’s a fucking mess too; your five senses have been dulled down to nothing but the feel of his fat cock sliding in and out of you with wet, sloppy plaps.
you’d think that he’d at least have the decency to try and orient you or hold your hands, but he’s a mess too. pussydrunk. he’s watching the way your pussy swallows him up with each thrust, your folds wrapping around his length and sucking him in deeper. little sprays of fluid come out of you when he drives inside too fast, and if he goes too slow, your pussy flutters around him so pretty. he can’t decide which he likes better.
“you like that dick?” he grunts thoughtlessly, moving one hand off your thigh in between your legs instead so he can rub harsh circles onto your clit. “you like that dick baby? i think she likes it.”
“mngh…w-who?” you babble, bucking your hips into his hand while also fucking yourself onto him, chasing your fast approaching orgasm.
“your pussy. fuck, she loves it. look how well she’s taking me.”
you cry out and hook your legs around his waist, knowing that you’re almost there and that you want him to empty his load into you. nowhere else is satisfactory. “to-jiiiii” you slur, eyes rolling back into your head when he curves his body inward to drive impossibly deeper inside you, angling his cock to hit that sweet spot on your frontal wall. “ ‘m cumming!”
toji’s face scrunches up. he resorts to that fast pace that he was stuck on earlier, and pounds into you hard and fast, his curved length battering your soft insides with each wet thrust. he slams his hips into yours one more time, pushing his thumb against your bundle of nerves while your pussy hugs his cock, milking the cum straight out of him while you squirt on his dick.
the two of you let out the most vulgar of moans as he cums with you, emptying his heavy, thick load deep into your womb. his body collapses on top of yours while he keeps rocking his cock into you, making sure no part of your pretty pussy goes untouched by his cum.
♡ TW: implied nsfw, implied noncon/dubcon, poly yanderes, sprained ankle, captive reader, apocolypse au, talk of fertility and pregnancy
♡ FEM reader
♡ P1: The Bunker
Your ankle feels better after a little over a week.
The one initially against you staying has been giving you medical check-ups every day—something about wasteland toxins and underlying, possible contagious sicknesses he’d like to keep a weathered eye out for.
You hadn’t refused. After all, such precautions were only warranted.
When you first encountered them in the wasteland, they were both wearing hazmat suits and gas masks. And though you had already been put through the standard disinfection and the basic check—eyes, teeth, and tongue—before they’d even let you in, you can’t blame them for taking extra measures—no matter how meticulous the check-ups have been since, comprising of endless spit, blood, and urine samples.
Somehow, you actually appreciated the thoroughness. It was just one more thing that reminded you of the past. The way he sat there, behind the desk like a doctor, and you opposite, like a patient, waiting for your results.
You’d gotten more or less used to it now, so it didn’t feel as awkward anymore. And, if you were to say so yourself, you think he’s even warmed up to you a little bit too.
“You’re all clear. No detectable toxins,” he states after a moment, mulling over the data, more or less the same outcome he’d come to for the last four or so days. He scribbled a few things into the file he’d been conducting, a focused furrow between his brows as he worked. You felt inclined to inquire about what exactly he’d been jotting down all these days of running tests but then decided against it—explaining things to you would probably only vex him. He was a man of as few words as possible, after all.
He sighs, then informs, “We can stop checking every day now.”
“Really?” you light up—feeling excited for some reason. Suppose you took it as a sign of improvement even without knowing entirely what any of it actually meant. In any case, lesser checks must be good, right?
“Yeah. You’re way healthier, thanks to all our produce and not consuming any of that wasteland trash.” He pulled a grimace before his face settled back into that constant look of dour solemnity. “Blood pressure, heart rate, vitals—everything looks good.”
It almost seems like such a silly thing to even bother caring about. Only a few weeks ago, you hadn’t cared for any such thing as health as long as it meant you weren’t starving or freezing—and here you are, celebrating such a privileged thing as blood pressure.
You sniffle, can’t help yourself, balled fists quivering in your lap as a few tears start to drop, “Thank you—truly. I’d have died if it weren’t for the two of you.”
He must think you’re ridiculous, too, crying over something so small. You wipe your eyes, only to notice him holding out a tissue for you. You can only laugh at yourself while accepting it.
“You’ll help me in the greenhouse today since your ankle is all better,” he states while getting up.
You spring to your feet, too. This would be the first time you’d been asked to help out. “What about—”
“He’s busy doing inventory,” he answers before you get the question out. “We’ll have to change a few things since you’re staying.”
This stills you, breath caught in your throat. You look at him wide-eyed, scared you’d heard him wrong. Voice weak as if scared to ask, “I’m staying?”
“Tch—” It’s his turn to chuckle, though he does so much differently from you—mockingly, a way he often does at both your and the other's expense. Though, you’d taken to find it rather endearing. He gives you a look—it’s very almost soft. “You didn’t think we’d waste our resources on something we planned on chucking back out again, did you?”
A tug pulls your wobbly lips back into a smile. “I guess that would be silly...” you sniffle again. “Still, thank you.”
This time, as you say it, you rush to hug him—tightly, with both your arms wrapped around his tough midsection and your head tucked against his broad chest.
It’s him who falls still now—stunted by the action and left both speechless and frozen in place. His arms hover mid-air, unsure of where to rest, before slowly lowering to settle atop your narrow shoulders—so much smaller in comparison. It’s crazy to think you’d endured out in the wasteland for so long.
He’s sure you’ve done things in order to stay alive you’re not at all proud of. Still, your survival is no less than a miracle.
He clears his throat. “Let’s hurry up,” He dismisses, then proceeds to nudge you off as if the hug was unwanted, but even you can spot the blush dusting his cheeks as he looks away with another grumble, “We’re making dinner before he’s done.”
The smile on your face is a sight for sore eyes, he thinks. You didn’t smile like that a week ago.
“Yes, sir.” You salute, following him in stride.
You’d said it innocently enough, but by God, if only you knew how it takes everything in him not to bend you over the medical desk right then and tell you all about how you’re in the perfect window for conceiving.
He manages to steal himself.
After dinner, he promised himself soothingly, calming the hunger in his gut—after dinner, they’d decided, tonight would be the night they’d finally make use of you the real way they’d intended—have you earn your keep.
When you’re done tilling the gardens, about a couple hours later, the two of you move on to the kitchen. You’d learn that the brash one was in charge of making most meals, as the other one was more than hopeless in the kitchen. It seemed you were replacing him as the helper, given simple tasks such as cutting, measuring, and fetching things.
It felt nice to be doing something again, especially something so trivial. Housework and domestic chores were something one could only reminisce about, and yet here you were, doing just that—cutting carrots as if the outside world wasn’t a badland of people killing each other for a can of expired dog food.
You really were so lucky you could hardly believe it. The tears start bubbling again.
“If you’re finished cutting, go to the cupboard over there,” he jolts you out of your thoughts. Not looking away from stirring the pot, he points with his other hand toward the far side of the kitchen.
You pad over and open it to find two dozen or more bottles of wine, all neatly shelved.
“Pick one out,” he calls out.
You blink, looking between the wine and him. “You mean—”
“Anyone of ‘em is fine,” he says. “Feel free to read if you’re looking for something special, though. It’s you were celebrating, after all.”
This time, you can’t stop the tears as they trickle down your face one after the other, soaking your cheeks.
Hearing you sniffle makes him sigh with rust. Scolding you with military toughness, “Quit cryin’ already—it’s getting old.”
You wipe your eyes and stiffen your lip. “Yes, sir.”
Turning your head back to the shelf, you can hardly believe the sight. It had been all moonshine and slop out in the wasteland. Dangerous stuff you were better staying well away from.
You can’t believe you’re going to drink actual wine again—your mouth waters just at the thought as you pick the first bottle you set your eyes on. But then you stop yourself—a guilty knot in your stomach twisting.
“Is it really okay?” you ask. “Shouldn’t we save it?”
“Tch—” he scoffs disapprovingly again. “You gotta stop doin’ that.”
You’re left looking at him even though he keeps his back turned, still busy stirring the pot. He lifts a spoon for tasting, then adds more spice to his liking before continuing as though he could tell you were confused just from the silence.
“You’re not in the wasteland anymore—” he states. “You can afford to live a little now.”
A concept like that had yet to have reached you.
Suppose you were still settling in.
“Besides, there are more in the cellar,” he reveals. “Even if we drank a bottle every day, it would take years for us to finish. So don’t worry your pretty head ‘bout it, a’ight?”
Your grip around the bottle tightens—trying to toughen up to keep the tears at bay. But today was an emotional day, and it seemed there was no end to the blessings you were given. It was all so overwhelming, your heart swelled with happiness—a feeling you hadn’t felt in such an awfully long time.
“Something smells good!” comes a call.
It seems he’s returned from doing inventory.
“Oh no, why are you crying?” He instantly rushes over to you, holding your face to inspect the damage, then snaps his head to the other, who’s still busying himself with perfecting dinner. “Are you being too harsh on her?” he accuses. “You know, not everyone can live up to your cooking expectations—”
“Tch—I haven’t done shit,” he denies. “She’s just emotional ‘cause I told her we’re lettin’ her stay.”
“What!? You told her without me?” he cries then. “We were supposed to surprise her together.” His pout is instantly replaced with a blank look of surprise as you wrap your arms around him like you’d done with the other earlier—hugging him tightly.
“Thank you,” you repeat to him as well.
You still couldn’t believe how nice they had been to you.
After dinner is eaten, the three of you end up sitting there, chatting—about the past, most of all, how things used to be—how people would live in little houses with next-door neighbors they’d invite over for game night—little families with kids and backyards and pet dogs—college, marriage, careers.
You helped the stoic one clear the dishes while the chipper of the two opened another bottle of wine. You can hardly believe it when they bring out the record player and slide a vinyl on.
You end up crying again as the music plays. You even dance. Laughter fills the bunker while you get completely swept away with the feeling of utter bliss. And as the wine finishes and the conversation turns sloppy, the hands twirling your body to the music get a little touchier, a little greedier, until you’re suddenly kissed.
Between the two of them, the air becomes hot—steamy as you share breathes.
Busy hands, large and strong and callused from labor, work on your button-up shirt. It’s gone before you know it, then the hands move on to your pants.
Honestly, after all the emotions joined by the wine and dance and being spun between the two, you can’t say you’re completely without lust, but at the same time, you’re just a bit confused.
Despite not having seen them kiss in front of you, you’re certain they both go to bed in the same room every night—so all this time, you’d been under the impression that they were involved with each other and not interested in you that way.
Not that it matters much what you thought, you think, you’re not against what’s happening so much as you’re a little hesitant about how it’s about to happen. It’s been a while since you’ve slept with anyone—willingly, that is—you’ve sort of forgotten how to enjoy it.
If it were just one, you’d maybe find it a bit less overwhelming, but given there were two, you quickly found yourself feeling somewhat claustrophobic.
“Wait—” you stutter. Blocking the advance with your own hands, looking up into drunken and heated eyes and the soft look of arousal painted on the face before you.
“Don’t worry,” he comforts with that kind smile. “You’re the most valuable thing we have—we’re gonna be gentle.”
You almost bite, almost give in, almost let it soothe you. But even in the drunk haze, the choice of phrasing finds you a little odd. And you’re unable to disregard that feeling that’s been nagging at the very back of your head ever since you stepped foot in the place.
Something’s not right.
“Valuable?” Sure, you could choose to understand it as them saying they care for you, but somehow, it just doesn’t feel as if that’s all. “What does that mean?”
“You know…” he utters softly—his kind smile curling into something different. His eyes fall downward as he licks his lips before finishing, “This.”
He’s laid a hand atop your belly where his gaze is set—his palm flat and firm as he rubs tentative circles into the softness.
It takes you a moment before you shudder. “You…”
You needed to be rational about this. Some part of you always knew there was something going on, didn’t it? Why else would you be here? Why else would they let you stay? The cameras in the bedroom, in the showers, all those medical checkups—you’ve known there was something. And still, you hadn’t left. You hadn’t even so much as humored the thought even once.
There is no life for you out there. You don’t just want to stay—you have to—you need to.
And is it really so bad? Hadn't they been nice? Haven’t they been more than generous? Don’t you owe them so much more than what they’re asking in return?
But what are they asking? It’s not just intimacy. It’s something else—something premeditated.
“You want to use me to…” The realization makes you shudder. “To make you a child…”
Like an incubator.
They don’t deny it.
You want to back up—create space—room to breathe, but the other is just behind you with his big chest pressed stiffly against your back, keeping you close, trapped before the one in front.
“It’s true…” he confesses at your ear. “That is all we wanted from you in the beginning.”
It sends a chill down your spine.
“It was almost too good to be true when we found you,” he continued while playing with your waist in big hands. “How a perfect candidate fell right into our lap mere days after we decided to go lookin’ for one.”
You suck in a hitched breath as the well of tears breaches, dribbling down your cheeks at the clinical word—candidate.
“But you’re more than that now,” the other reassures, bowing and fishing for your eyes as you’d taken to look down—too horrified to look him back in his.
“We figured you’d be a savage, havin’ lived out there for so long,” the one behind says. He’d been the most skeptical at first, but he’d come to learn it was rather the opposite—your time out there hadn’t toughened your skin or hardened your heart but only made you timid and soft.
“In all honesty, we weren’t sure we were gonna keep you after the pregnancy…” the one in front whispers upon your lips. “But that’s all in the past now.”
He lifts your chin, taking in the all-too-soft look of despair on your face. It’s a strange thing to say he’d missed. It nearly makes him feel guilty for the hard-on in his cargo pants. But then again, tears are the allure of the gentler sex. It’s only natural for a man to enjoy the sight.
“We want you to stay.” He strokes your cheek, catching the tears on his thumb. “After all, it would be best for the baby to have a female presence—especially one as soft as yours.”
“And, well…” You flinch at the stubble being dragged upon your shoulder and neck, a kiss placed in the nook there along with his words, “We’ve grown to like having you around.”
His hands had fallen from your waist down to rub your hips, swaying you back against his crotch—and the bulge there, that now felt a little more like a gun being poked against your back.
“It’s been a long while since we’ve had the company of a woman,” he continues while pressing himself against you. “It was unfamiliar at first, but… it’s nice.”
Something urgent takes over your body then—even though it’s beyond stupid. There’s no plan, no further thought than run—despite having no solid clue as to where. And yet, it ends up not mattering in the slightest. You don’t make it far.
You scream as their hands snag you. The grumpier one locks your arms, the chipper one grabs your legs—and they both lift and carry you back—laying you down on the little round table you’d had dinner on.
You struggle, but your wrists are pinned down to the metal with a strength you can’t hope to match.
“Don’t be like that.” He clicks his tongue dismissively like he so often does when you say or do something stupid. “There’s nowhere to go.”
“No—” you cry. “Please—don’t.” Shaking your head while squeezing your thighs shut.
Never mind having sex, you could endure that much—but having a baby in this mess? They’re the ones who lost their minds down here.
“I can’t—”
“Of course, you can,” the other insists, prying your thighs apart to make space for himself between them, already with his hands returning to undo the button of your pants, zipping down the fly and tugging them off.
“No—”
He’s back to console you just as quickly, “Shh-sh, don’t cry,” he soothes, cupping your face in both palms. He gives you that kind smile again, but it no longer serves as any source of comfort—now just a mouth full of teeth. “We’ll be gentle.”
It’s been a month since your new owner brought you home, and despite expectations, you’ve yet to be eaten by the predators you share your den with. On the contrary, the six hybrids seem to have accepted you as their seventh pack member despite you being at the very bottom of the food chain.
You’ve come to trust that, despite the look of hunger in their eyes… food isn’t exactly what they have in mind.
The hyena seems to be the only one your age. But he’s also a bit of a bully. Always goading you with ticklish poking until you stomp your feet and whine at him to stop.
He never listens to you, though – he just cocks his head, finding it funny how you try giving him orders – only grinning as he pins you instead, chewing some on the lops of your ears while squeezing your cottontail – smirking and giggling at your pouty face getting all frustrated.
Your weak kicking is so cute, and so is how you try clawing at him despite having but blunt nails – he can’t help but laugh at the way it tickles him.
It’s so painstakingly clear you’re not made to fight back, and it’s so adorable how you don’t even realize you already surrendered the moment you rolled over on your back with your belly up.
It makes him go absolutely feral when you pull on his ears and mane, begging him to stop as he laves at your slit and clit, delving his long tongue deep within your walls until the tip prods your womb. It’s course against your skin and harsh on your insides and scratches your poor clit until it’s all swollen and throbbing for him – making you sob as his feral smile teases your chubby mound with a bite – only satisfied when you cum in his mouth.
But while the hyena enjoys play-fighting with you, the rest are more prone to fight each other…
The panther and leopard are good friends, whilst the fox and wolf seem to tolerate each other – and you don’t know whether it’s unfortunate or a blessing in disguise that both pairs only want you for themselves and often end up fighting over you.
You’d say the four are the most trigger-happy of the pack – always hissing and barking at each other. But everyone knows that cats and dogs don’t get along.
The canines are a little scarier, you think. They’re rougher with you.
The wolf especially. He’s older than you, a big heap of hulking muscles that bear down over you with the daunting superiority of a seasoned hunter.
He doesn’t take lightly to you talking back to him – acting as though he’s actually offended when you so much as open your mouth if it’s not to swallow his tongue. Even if all you ask is for him to go a little slower, he’ll just growl at you – threatening your neck with fangs while chewing your collar – and otherwise ignore your cry completely. Calling you his bitch while telling you to quit your whimpering even though he’s been breeding you sore for the past hour, ramming your poor cunt so hard your muscles have all given out and left you to lie on the floor with only his paws keeping your hips upright.
He's always extra rough when you reek of cat – as though it’s your fault. Huffing and puffing as he now has to spend so much effort scenting you again.
It’s a never-ending war between them all. You go from camp to camp, getting marked again and again like territory, only for your owner to clean you up at the end of the day.
But the wolf is the worst. One time he’d gone so far as to piss on you…
But he was later scolded by the owner – bonking his head with a rolled-up newspaper, telling him he had to learn to share or else he’d have to go sleep out in the doghouse. He’d also been told he had to stop breaking skin when biting you unless he wanted to be muzzled.
It only made him all the more grumpier. Growling in your ear that the one who ought to be muzzled is you and your snitch-mouth always crying wolf like some bitch who never learns her place – that next time you go talking to the owner, he’s going to eat you like the piece of meat you are.
You come to learn that he’s more bark than bite after a while.
When you get used to him and his stamina, you stop crying and start holding onto him instead. And it’s when you’re burying your face in his neck and begging for his seed that he softens up for you.
He stops biting and starts sucking instead – laying hickeys all over your neck and chest, blushing with closed eyes when suckling your tits like a pup. You learn he’s a sucker for being called good boy and will wag his tail when you sit on his face.
He’s also the one with the most owner-sickness of the pack, always clinging to you, growling when others get close, and never ever sharing when his turn.
He only begrudgingly allows the fox to eat his scraps afterward.
You can only mew as he mounts you next.
His tempo is always a bit of a shock – a bit juvenile, but who can blame him when he’s had to wait for so long? He’s a little younger than you – eager and desperate for it every single time.
Pounding you sharply – hard and fast with howls and heavy panting – even whimpering as you hold you tighter and tighter, squeezing you free of air as he savors the feel of your wet pussy clamping down around him.
He doesn’t growl too much when you whine. Instead, he laughs – elated and frenzied – eyes manic as he sticks his tongue as far down your throat as he can – drooling uncontrollably as he sinks his knot inside you and spills his worth inside your womb.
It’s a relief he doesn’t last as long as his bigger partner.
He’ll suck love-bites on the chubs of your cheeks as he unswells – lick all the sweat from your skin and come down by the sweet taste. Laying sloppy kisses all over your body and lapping over all bruises and soreness in gratitude – looking at you somewhat sheepishly with big puppy-dog eyes as though suddenly embarrassed that he’d been so feral.
The felines are less spastic.
But they also like to lick you – with sand-textured tongues scraping at your fur and skin until they’ve made sure you’re coated with their scent. They seem to enjoy grooming more than anything, always snuggling with you.
But they get flirty, too… you’ll know when they start kneading your softer parts – blinking at you slow and expectantly until you return the favor.
They’re the same age and have known each other all their life, practically brothers, and do everything together as though they were a pair of Siamese – including when they mate with you.
They’ll lay you down on one lean chest while the other is poised above you. Purring as they take turns with you – both so gently.
The panther always has a sly smile on his face when looking down at you – his claws retracted while he sticks his slender fingers inside your mouth to play with your tongue. He says it’s one of his favorite things about you – so soft and so silky, so different from theirs when you lick his skin.
It makes the leopard pout behind you, nuzzling you tight, his cheek to your cheek, asking the other if he doesn’t like it when he grooms him.
The panther only smiles down at both of you, promising that he likes both your tongues until he proceeds to swap between which one of you he kisses.
When the leopard kisses you, he also admits he likes your tongue – whispering all depraved things that come to mind – loves how smooth it feels in his mouth and on his lips and neck and nipples and cock and balls.
Eventually, the heat gets to their heads, and their pointy ears start to droop, looking at you with such dark glossy eyes, opium-blown with pleasure and lust for more – kissing each side of your face, asking whether you won’t allow them both inside you at the same time – their pretty pleas making your head go silly, panting while nodding your head for them, bucking your hips stuck between the two while begging for both of them.
You feel their slim tails coil around each of your thighs as they sink inside your drooling heat together – their breaths deep and shuddering while they feel your tightness squeeze around them.
They coo at you – telling you how perfect you look trapped between them like that – as their pretty little double-stuffed toy. And you’re too cock-drunk to do anything but agree.
After flooding you with cum, they go back to cuddling – sleeping – the both of them purring with lanky limbs all tangled on top of each other and you in the middle.
The bear is also a lazy fellow – a gentle giant. Something you’re grateful for – you don’t think you’d survive if he ever tried mounting and pounding you like the other boys.
He’s the eldest of the pack. Twice your age. You feel the seniority in his movements – all unhurried, savoring every second with a warm smile.
He’s satisfied with having you on his lap – cock-warmed by your tight bunny-cunt while you hand-feed him berries. You feel a little safer with him knowing you have the same appetite and that he isn’t thinking about eating you.
He hums, a rusty sound that comes from his gut – telling you he likes seeing you eat – that it’s cute how you take such small bites – and the way your nose scrunches and your cheeks fill.
Sometimes he’ll tell you to hop on his lap – his massive warm paws placed on your haunches with large black claws gently denting the plush flesh found there, encouraging you as you ease up and down the great length that bulges from your belly.
The size of it makes you pant.
You’re glad he’s happy having you at the end of the day – after you’ve been loosened up by the others. You fear he’d split you in two if otherwise.
The owner collects you before bedtime after everyone’s had their share – clips a leash onto your collar, and leads you to the bathroom – crawling on all four like an actual animal. You’ll often collapse halfway there, but he doesn’t mind scooping you up to carry you instead – always with a few patronizing words leaving him while mollycoddling you, almost speaking baby to you, telling you how proud he is of how domesticated you’ve become.
There’s always a bath waiting for you – a gift for being such a good little pet, he says.
It reminds you of when you were first brought here, as he washes you with his own hands – rubbing the filth of spit, cum, and sweat from your sore limbs, messaging your flesh into nice limber softness again.
He’s always mumbling about human matters under his breath – money, business, estate – ruffling your hair when you give him a blank stare. Apologizing while saying he won’t trouble your pretty head with such complicated topics.
All you have to worry about is being his stress-relief – something clueless and dumb and dependent on him. You realize that without him needing to say it. It’s communicated through all the other things he says anyway.
He’s always whispering in your ear before bed – sweet nothings about what a good bunny you are – how you’re the cutest, softest, sweetest little thing in the entire world – telling you how much he loves you and how happy he is that you’re finally settling in – how you’ve become the most precious little housebroken pet for him.
It feels different when he touches you. The other hybrids make you feel small, but there’s a familiarity with them – something about being hunted fairly and squarely, like out in the wild.
With the owner, you’re reminded you’re a pet eating out of his palm – something tame warming his bed at night with your leash tied to the bed frame.
He doesn’t fuck you with the same intent as the others do – there’s no rut behind his cold movements. It’s not mating or breeding. It’s something else you can’t put your finger on. Something human. Something alien to you.
Something in the way he has his hand fisting your leash as he sinks inside your heat – something in how he babies you, calls you cute when you shake and cum around his cock like you can’t control yourself.
It all makes you feel like some mindless animal.
Impulsive and primitive in comparison to him and his calculated thrusts and how he only cums inside you after you’ve all but begged him to breed you.
୨୧ — "Tooojiii~", you chime, skipping up to him before wrapping your arms around one of his massive biceps. The sheer size difference making you look even smaller.
He arches an eyebrow, that smirk you adore so much playing at his lips, "what're you plotting?"
"Nothing at all," you say sweetly, your finger tracing the defined muscles of his arm, "Juuuust taking in the view~."
He snorts, but there's amusement in those sharp Zenin eyes, "The view, huh? Sure it's not just an excuse to cop a feel?"
"M’nope! I was just admiring how the sunrise today makes you look extra dangerous~"
"Dangerous, huh?" The big bad Toji Zenin grins, amused by how you can make even that sound like a compliment, "Most people don't say that while grinning like they've found a puppy."
"Well, I'm not most people," you giggle while pressing your cheek against the warmth of his arm, "And your arms are way better than any puppy. Now up, please ~!" you can’t stop the dumb grin on your face when he flexes his bicep deliberately under your grip.
"Tch. You're worse than a kid." He grumbles as he effortlessly hoists you up with his arm, your feet dangling. Toji huffs, but there's no hiding the flush creeping up his neck, "And flattery will get you nowhere."
Despite his gruff demeanor, you know he secretly loves how you get all stary eyed at his strength.
You grin cheekily, "i dunno, I think it’s gotten me pretty fa-."
"Papa! UP!" A tiny voice suddenly demands. You both look down to see little Megumi- the very proof of how far your flattery has gotten you with Toji Zenin. Your sons arms were stretched high above his head in a perfect mirror of your earlier pose.
Toji's expression softens gradually as he looks at his son. Without putting you down, he easily scoops up Megumi with his free arm, holding both of you aloft like you weigh nothing.
"Great… now I've got two clingy brats," he complains, but his eyes are warm as Megumi squeals in delight, tiny hands patting his father's muscled shoulder.
𓍼ོ true form!sukuna who lets you ride his stomach mouth.
you straddle sukuna’s broad torso, thighs already shaking as you hover over the jagged mouth splitting across his abdomen. his four eyes gleam with cruel hunger, watching every twitch of your body.
the stomach mouth opens slowly, hot breath fanning over your dripping folds before a thick, ridged tongue drags out, tasting you like he owns every inch.
“go on,” he growls, voice dripping with mockery. “ride it properly. show me how badly that greedy little cunt needs me.”
you sink down with a broken whimper as the tongue pushes inside you, thick and relentless, stretching you open while the mouth’s lips seal tight around your clit. the suction is immediate and vicious, pulling at the sensitive bundle of nerves as the tongue curls deep, fucking into you with wet, obscene sounds. your hands brace on his chest, hips rolling desperately as pleasure slams through you.
it does not take long before your walls clenching hard around the invading muscle.
sukuna laughs, low and dark, the vibration making the tongue thrash even harder inside you. when you try to lift up cause it’s becoming too much, oversensitive and twitching, his massive hand snaps around your wrist like a vice.
sukuna yanks you back down forcefully, slamming your hips flush against his stomach so the mouth devours you completely again.
“where the fuck do you think you’re going?” he snarls, eyes narrowing. “you started this. now you finish it. keep riding.”
the tongue does not give you any mercy.
it pounds into you faster, twisting and dragging against every spot that makes your vision blur. the lips suck harder on your clit, relentless and wet, forcing another orgasm out of you before the first one even fades.
your thighs burn, body jerking wildly as you sob through the overstimulation, but sukuna’s grip on your wrist is iron. every time you try to pull away or rise even an inch, he drags you right back down, grinding you against the mouth.
“look at you,” he taunts, voice rough with satisfaction. “crying and shaking like a pathetic little toy. my stomach is soaked and you still can’t stop grinding on it.”
this is when a brutal wave hits you, your whole body convulsing as you cum, tears streaming down your face.
the overstimulation turns sharp and electric, every lick and thrust bordering on pain but so good you cannot stop moaning. sukuna’s free hand comes up to grip your hip, helping you move, forcing the rhythm faster and deeper.
you lose count of how many times you tired to get yourself off of him. your voice grows hoarse, legs trembling uncontrollably, slick pulling and sliding down onto his stomach as the mouth laps it all up greedily.
“kuna…” when you go limp, too exhausted to keep moving, sukuna simply uses his strength to bounce you on the tongue himself, wrist still locked in his hold so you cannot escape.
“that’s right. keep cumming for me,” he commands, another dark laugh rumbling through him. “this mouth is not done with you yet. you’ve pissed me off today, no stopping until you’re a sobbing, broken mess who forgets every thought except how full you feel.”
he keeps you there for what feels like hours, the tongue never slowing, the suction never easing, until your mind blanks out completely and all you can do is tremble and take it, trapped on top of him by his unyielding grip.
𓍼ོ inexperienced!reader sucking dad’s best friend!toji’s dick for the first time
you kneel between toji’s spread thighs on his living room floor, the tv light bouncing low with hue of some old game in the background.
his cock is thick and heavy in your shaky hand, the vein along the underside pulsing as you lean in and wrap your lips around the head for the first time. “mhm,” you hear your dad’s best friend hum.
when it slips into your mouth, it tastes salty and warm, bigger than you expected, already stretching your mouth.
you suck gently, eyes flicking up to his face, hoping for some sign that you are not messing this up completely.
toji leans back against the couch, one big hand resting on the back of your head, his green eyes half lidded with that lazy smirk.
“fuck, baby, don’t choke,” he mutters when you try to take more and your throat tightens around him.
you pull back a little, coughing softly, spit already slicking your chin. “am i… doing it right?” you whisper, voice small and uncertain.
he laughs, low and rough, the sound rumbling through his chest and making his abs flex under that dark trail of hair.
“yeah,” then bunch of words follow when you hollow your cheeks, a slurping sound engulfing you both.
“you’re doing it.. fuck— right”
“smart girl.”
“…just like that.”
“slow and wet. feels good.”
encouraged, you dip down again, taking him deeper this time, your tongue pressing flat along the bottom. but you push too far too fast, and your eyes water as he hits the back of your throat.
“easy,” he growls, but his fingers tighten in your hair anyway. “you gonna choke on it.”
another laugh escapes him, this one darker, as you try to breathe through your nose. before you can pull off, he guides you down firmly, pushing until your nose brushes right against that coarse trail of hair at the base of him. your throat spasms around the thick length, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but he holds you there for a long second, savoring the tight heat.
“there we go,” he murmurs, voice dropping lower. “good girl. take it all for me.”
he finally lets you up just enough to gasp for air, strings of spit connecting your swollen lips to his cock, before he pushes you right back down again. his laughter mixes with a groan as you struggle so prettily around him.
tonight’s food for thought: loser!reader trying to baby trap situationship celebrity!gojo only for him to claim he never wants to get married anyway. but the MOMENT you move on and start dating he crashes out
yuuji finger fucking you with his promise ring on … and it’s like a low quality recording in the hidden folder on his phone for when he’s feeling lonely … most of it being your whines and him whimpering back in response every time you say his name. just: “uh huh? yeah baby? deeper? i think you’re gonna cum. please cum for me.” and the pitch of his voice rises the closer you get to squirting on his fingers
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