Angel

(20) i block freely

[chocunt]

18+ , smut under the cut! 🎼

he palms your ass, fingers sinking deep into the meat of your thighs, rocking your hips against him, legs spread over his, his hands all on your body.

“yeah… that’s right. look at me baby”

his voice drops low, lazy, but there’s nothing soft about it. thumb drags under your chin—forces your head up, makes you look him dead in his eyes while he grinds your hips down. slow n lazy.

you try to swallow the sound that climbs up your throat but it slips anyway.

“see that? fuckin’ dumb for me. huh? always foldin’ like this. swear you talk all that shit just ‘cause you like it when i fix it.” he chides.

your hands claw weak at his shoulders. nowhere to go. nowhere to hide. he drags you up, then rocks your hips back down—grinds your cunt right against the bulge straining under his sweats.

you gasp. whining softly. “…tojiii…”

“nah. nah, don’t start whinin’ now. wasn’t whinin’ when you was talkin’ crazy earlier, huh?”

he grips the back of your neck—forces you down, forehead pressed to his. his breath is hot, smells like weed and cheap beer and something a lil worse, something bitter.

“say sorry.”

your mouth stumbles. stammers. “…i—i’m sorry—”

“nah. say it right.” his hand cracks down against your thigh—smack!—makes you jolt. “say you’re sorry for bein’ a fuckin’ mouthy little bitch who don’t know how to act.”

it splinters something in you. but you say it. you always do. “…i’m sorry for… f-for bein’ a mouthy little bitch—”

“mm. that’s it. fuckin’ knew you had it in you.”

he shifts—grabs his cock, yanks it out. fat, flushed dark, angry red tip already leaking precum. he lines it up. presses the head right against your messy cunt. doesn’t even bother taking your panties off, just shoves ‘em aside.

“g’head. put it in. you wanna act grown? do it yourself.”

your hands tremble. but you reach—grip the base, guide it. hips shake when you sink down. too thick. too much. splits you open like it always does.

your jaw hangs open—no sound comes out for a second. making you look just as stupid as he’s calling you.

his hands clamp your hips, damn near bruising—dragging you right down to the last inch, forces you to take all of it. “…there you go. dumb fuckin’ baby.”

you bury your head in the crook of his neck—tears slipping, burning hot down your cheeks. he grips your chin again, forces your face back up. “nah. eyes on me. c’monnn. lemme see how stupid you look.”

he starts fucking upwards. every drag and push knocks the breath out of you, punches the sounds straight from your chest.

© chocunt 2025. reposting, copying, or translating is prohibited.

[kora-kiroshi]

Sukuna tries a new position on his whiny little girlfriend.

✦. cw : smut, rough sex, dirty talk, size kink, mild choking, pinning, creampie

You already regret agreeing to this.

The thought shifts somewhere in the back of your mind while you lie face-down in his bed.

The sheets smell like him, like smoke, sweat, and something else bitter, masculine, something that makes everything inside you tighten before Sukuna has even touched you.

The pillow under your hips tips your pelvis up so high your lower back aches, and you feel so exposed it makes heat crawl up your neck, humiliation burning hot under your skin.

Worse, it feels good.

So good your whole body throbs with anticipation.

You’re naked, and the air in the room is cool, biting at the wet skin between your thighs, making goosebumps race from the base of your spine to your shoulder blades, but under that chill, traitorous heat keeps spreading because Sukuna is still kneeling behind you.

You can hear his steady breathing.

And you can feel the way he’s just staring at you.

You crack first.

“Sukuna, quit dragging it out,” you mumble into the sheets, your voice coming out hoarse, annoyed, but the tips of your ears are burning so badly he could probably see it even in the half-dark.

Your knees are shaking from how long he’s been silent.

Sukuna doesn’t answer.

You twitch your hips from impatience and embarrassment all at once, and the movement makes your pussy open up even more, and he lets out a short, amused breath, laughter low in his chest.

“Baby, quit whining,” he finally says. Low, lazy, with that mocking edge that always makes the tips of your fingers go numb.

“I’m not whining,” you snap, even though you know damn well that’s a lie.

“You aaaare,” he drawls, mocking your tone. “Ask you to shut up for one second and you’re already bitching. ‘Hurry up,’ ‘just put it in already,’ ‘I want it.’ Tsk. And then when it’s actually time to take it...”

“Shut up!” you whine before he can start complaining about how you always struggle with his size.

You’re always like this.

You always get impatient first.

Then he gives you exactly what you asked for, and suddenly you’re whining like it’s his fault.

Sukuna laughs immediately. Low, rough, and your lower stomach clenches.

“I wasn’t done,” he continues calmly. “By the way, did I mention you’ve got a fucking insane ass?”

Usually, praise is enough to make you behave, but not today.

“I can still change my mind,” you mutter.

“Change your mind,” he repeats, his voice coated in so much poisonous sugar it makes your teeth ache. “Really? Go ahead. Lemme see.”

You try to push yourself up onto your elbows, but you barely get a few centimeters off the bed before his palm lands heavy between your shoulder blades and shoves you right back down, too hard to be gentle, but Sukuna knows you’ll fall into the mattress.

“Where d’you think you’re going?” he doesn’t ask, he states. Short, sharp. Your face presses into the sheets and you let out a muffled little “oh,” and he’s already leaning over you, his shadow swallowing you whole. “I told you to stay down.”

Sukuna doesn’t press hard, not yet. He’s just pinning you in place, and you hear his breathing closer now, feel the scent of his neck when he leans down near your temple.

“Stay still,” he whispers, his lips almost brushing your ear, and electricity shoots down your spine. “And stop squirming.”

“Sukuna!” you exhale, irritated, but your voice shakes.

He smirks, straightens up, and you hear him lick his lips. Then his hand settles over your ass, broad and possessive, fingers digging into the soft flesh, spreading you open, and you feel cool air brush over your cunt.

Sukuna parts your folds with his thumb, and you whimper because of how open you are, how indecent, how filthy you must look right now.

“Pretty,” he drawls, and your head spins. “Love it when you look like this...”

“Leave me alone,” you whine, twitching your hips, but he slaps you back down against the bed again, this time with his hand on your lower back, hard enough to keep you still.

With his other hand, he drags one finger slowly, from your clit, already swollen and slick, all the way down through your pussy to your entrance, gathering your wetness, and you jolt, clench up, let out a short, thin little sob.

Then he moves his finger higher again, but you jerk your hips immediately, instinctively, because it’s too much. Sukuna lets out a low laugh right away and shrugs like, fine, guess not today.

“Stop moving,” he orders calmly, pressing you harder into the mattress with his other hand until you can’t move at all. “I said stay down.”

“It tickles,” you whine into the pillow.

“It’s supposed to feel good,” he shoots back, and runs his finger over your pussy again, lazy little circles while you whimper and bury your face deeper into the sheets, drool slipping from your lips.

Sukuna stills and pulls his hand away, and you exhale in relief and disappointment all at once. You hear him spit into his palm, that filthy wet sound making everything inside you twist, and then his cock, hot and smooth, presses against your ass. He drags it through your slit, from your clit all the way down, slicking himself up, nudging at your entrance, but not pushing in.

Once. Twice. Three times.

“Ready?” he asks. Not even cruel about it, not really. Just a little.

“Yes,” you breathe out. “Yes, already, c’mon, faster...”

“Tch... Always this fucking needy when it’s me.” He clicks his tongue and lines himself up. You feel the head of his cock press right against your entrance, pushing, spreading you just a little, just a few millimeters, just enough to make sure you feel it.

You moan.

Long and pitiful, because it’s always like this.

“There you go, whining again, baby,” he murmurs, and for once, there’s something almost gentle in his voice. “Take it, good girl. I’m going slow.”

And then Sukuna pushes deeper.

You yelp at the sudden, sharp stretch when he forces your entrance open. Your hands clutch at the sheets so hard your nails leave marks, and Sukuna goes still, already halfway inside, and you can hear him breathing heavily above you, controlled, restrained.

“Fuck,” he exhales, and it sounds almost reverent. “Still so fucking tight. Pathetic.”

You make some broken, incoherent sound, trying to adjust, trying to relax, but your body only clamps down harder around him because panic, tiny and animal, is screaming too much.

“Always act surprised,” he mutters, hand tightening on your back, “like you don’t do this every fucking time.”

Sukuna’s huge body looms over you, and of course that only makes you squirm more.

“Relax your ass,” he orders, and presses hard on your lower back, pinning you to the bed so you can’t arch, can’t run, can’t escape. “And baby, breathe, fuck, deeper.”

You take a breath, deep and shaky, and on the exhale he pushes more of himself inside, slow and steady, stretching you wider around every inch.

You hear his breath catch above you the deeper his cock goes, like even he feels the way your body fights him before finally giving in.

Then one smooth, relentless thrust, and he drives in nearly to the base, forcing a sharp, burning stretch that makes your whole body tense.

“Ohhh—” it tears out of you, long and loud, and you bite the sheet so you don’t scream.

“Good girl,” Sukuna whispers. “Took almost all of it. Almost, hear me?”

Sukuna goes still like that again, giving you time to adjust, and you can feel his cock pulsing inside you. Then he starts moving again.

Slowly. He pulls out halfway, and you suck in a short, desperate breath, and then he drives back in with one sharp thrust, and you cry out because Sukuna hits that exact spot that makes your vision blur.

“Right there,” he hums, satisfied.

The next thrust lands harder, and the sharp slap of skin on skin cracks through the room, louder now, meaner, like he’s already losing patience with how much you’re squirming.

Sukuna slams into you again, and you scream into the pillow, biting down on it while he just laughs, rough and pleased. His hips smack against your ass with a wet, obscene sound.

“Easy, easy, mouthy little thing,” he purrs, even though he likes it when you’re loud, and you know it.

“Fuck you...” you try to snap back, but he pushes in deeper, and the words break apart into moans.

Sukuna speeds up.

“Cry about it,” he shoots back immediately, slamming into you again. “You begged for it.”

The mattress starts shifting under each thrust, creaking softly beneath you every time he drives you back into it.

His palm is still pressing down on your lower back, keeping you from lifting up...

His other hand clamps down on your hip, thumb digging little crescents into your skin every time he snaps forward.

You’re trapped between him and the bed, helpless, spread open, soaked in sweat and him.

You can feel your slick running down the insides of your thighs, the sheet under you going damp, the way his balls slap against your clit with every thrust.

A full-body tremor crashes over you when Sukuna buries himself all the way to the hilt.

“Fuuuck... you’re making a mess,” he groans through his nose, sounding downright delighted. “Your cunt’s making the prettiest sounds.”

Sukuna stills for a second, pulls out almost all the way, and in the silence of the room there’s that wet, obscene sucking sound when he thrusts back in.

You feel the wet drag of it, every inch of him sliding out slow and slick, enough to make your whole body tense before he drives back in.

You let out a choked moan.

“You hear that?” he repeats, driving into you again, and again, and again, every thrust punctuated by that filthy, wet slap.

“Shut... ah-ah... shut up,” you sob.

“Or what?”

Sukuna suddenly leans all the way down over your back, hovering over your ear, and his voice goes quiet, smooth, almost tender, and goosebumps race over your whole body.

“Gonna punish me? Tell me you’re not coming back? You will. You always do. Because nobody fucks you like I do. Nobody knows how deep you can take me.”

Sukuna lets out a rough hum while you try to protest, then straightens up and suddenly thrusts all the way in, fully, to the base, so deep you feel his pelvis press against your ass, the head of his cock nudging your cervix, and you cry out, high and thin, tears springing to your eyes from the strain, from how good it is.

“There,” Sukuna growls. “Took all of it. What were you whining for? You could do it. Knew you could take it,” he adds, almost smug, like he’d never doubted you for a second.

He stays buried inside you like that, breathing hard, and you can feel your cunt pulsing around him, your stomach muscles tightening and releasing, and you’re right there, so close one more movement would do it.

“What, you want it?” he whispers, his lips brushing your temple. His voice is calm, even, like he’s not buried balls-deep in your pussy. “Wanna come? Say it. C’mon, I’m listening.”

You can’t talk. Your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth, and all you can do is shake your head, sniffling, trying to move your hips on your own, but he immediately presses you down again, chest to your back, hips flush to your ass, and you’re flattened under him all over again.

“There you go,” he murmurs, voice dropping lower. “That’s my girl.”

It’s heavy, almost impossible to breathe.

Sukuna wraps a hand around your throat, feeling how wildly your heart is pounding.

“Yes,” you gasp. “Yes, please, yes.”

“Oh, really?” His lips stretch into a wide, mocking grin.

“Sukuna...”

“How pathetic,” he drawls, and you can hear the predator’s smile in his voice. “Lying under me, dripping, shaking, and you can’t even say two words. Drooling again too, huh? Yeah...”

He laughs under his breath.

“That mouth on you... all that attitude, and look where it gets you.”

You want to hit him. Or bite him. Or scream something insulting at him. Instead, you just press your face harder into the sheets, and a choked, humiliated moan tears out of your throat.

He laughs and takes his hand off your neck.

“Wait!” you gasp, panicked, when he shifts his hips back.

“That’s it,” Sukuna says, and slams back into you so hard the shock shoots from your spine all the way to your fingertips.

You squeal, clawing at the sheets, trying to push back against him, meet him halfway, but he keeps you pinned to the bed, not letting you move, and all you can do is take it, take it, take it until the whole world collapses into one single point and you come, crying out, body seizing, clenching around him so hard he groans through his teeth.

And three thrusts later, Sukuna finally stills, coming deep inside you, hot and hard, with a growl that vibrates straight through your spine.

You stay like that. You’re breathing hard, face buried in the sheet, wet with tears and spit. He’s breathing hard too, collapsed over you with all his weight, his cock still inside you, slowly softening, and you can feel the warmth spreading low in your belly.

He doesn’t pull out. Just stays there, keeping you full while it starts to leak around him, warm and humiliating between your thighs.

Sukuna drags a hand along the line of your thigh, slow, soothing, almost gentle. Then he leans down and presses a lazy kiss to the nape of your neck, so casual it almost feels mean after everything else.

“Good girl,” he whispers against the back of your head.

You mumble something incoherent, and he chuckles, pleased, giving one lazy, reflexive roll of his hips that pulls another gasp from you and makes you instinctively try to wriggle out from under him.

“Quit it,” he murmurs, tightening his arm around you when you squirm. “You’re not going anywhere.”

He gives a low, satisfied hum against the back of your neck.

“Next time I’m tying you up,” he adds, like it’s nothing. “So you don’t squirm at all.”

You close your eyes and think that... he’s probably not joking.

And, honestly, you think you like that.

Do not repost, copy, plagiarize, translate, or feed my work into AI in any form!) Divider credit: @dollywons

trying to make up for my disappearance with sukuna smut </3

[yoonsucks]

Jealous Much?

Pairing: Nerd!Gojo x fem!reader CW: SMUTTTTTT SMUT SMUT MDNI, reader is a brat, brat tamer Gojo, some crack, pronebone, rough sex, p in v, choking a bit, spanking, degradation a bit, facial, mentions of Suguru Geto, Weed, possessive/jealous behaviour

"Quit hogging it! Pass."

"Damn, impatient. Here, doll."

You and Suguru were sitting in his car's backseat, your back against the door, legs entangled with his in the middle of the seats, smoke swirling past your face and through the ajar sunroof.

Only recently, you two had started to smoke after classes, nothing deep. Just casual, sharing a rolled blunt while talking about nothing.

Casual, for one, because he was your boyfriend's best friend.

You weren't a troublemaker per se, but you weren't a stuck-up academic weapon either, so you have no clue why you ended up with the top student in his major.

Satoru Gojo, astrophysics and science nerd.

It happened slowly, through little sticky notes and small gifts of candy on your usual desk in the lecture halls, him sitting one chair closer in the library each time you went.

And then one date that made you fall head over heels for this shy weirdo.

And you got to know his closest friend, Suguru Geto, who was more on the alternative artistic side. But he was fun to get stoned with.

You inhaled the smoke, about to pass the rest of the smoked-out blunt back to the long-haired male across from you, when a sudden knocking on the window startled your zen.

The knocking turned into full banging and a familiar, whiny voice.

"Suguru… u..unlock the damn door! What are you two doing in there with her? Smoking?? That's bad for YOU-"

Suguru groaned, pulled the keys out of his pocket, and unlocked the car doors, clearly irritated by the white-haired one catching you both.

The moment he got the door open, you were pulled out, a barrage of smart and large words thrown at Suguru about weed and how it can ruin his health, not to mention how bad it is to give it to you and blablalbabllaaaa.

You could feel Satoru's hands on you tremble, blunt nails dragging your clothes a bit while having you squished close to his chest, his eyes looked like he wanted to burst out crying, clearly shaken up over this even while giving a lecture.

Satoru really only calmed down when you started walking away with him, not even getting to say a goodbye to Suguru, too busy being pulled away by your boyfriend.

"Tooruu…. c'mon, relax. We weren't doing anything…" You sighed, feeling his hand on your waist tighten a bit, leading you through the campus to the dormitories.

"Not doing anything? Why didn't you t..tell me you two were hanging out? I'd come too..!" Satoru grumbled, fumbling with his glasses after stepping inside the building, fidgeting, refusing to look at you.

"You don't even smoke. Are you jealous?"

"Wha..! Me? Feel envious over MY girlfriend sitting in MY best friend's car together and SHARING weed? No." He puffed up his cheeks a bit.

"Relax, babe. "

"I am relaxed. We are g..going to my room to show you how r…relaxed I am."

You sighed, holding his hand while walking up a few flights of stairs, watching Satoru fumble around with his keys before finally getting the door unlocked, ushering you inside right after.

"If I had known you'd freak out over something like that, I wouldn't have gone…" You mumbled, toeing off your shoes.

Satoru seemed to get a bit more on edge from that comment, already battling unfamiliar emotions inside- he hadn't had a girlfriend before you, so feeling possessive or jealous was new.

"Did he ask you to meet him?" The white-haired one's voice came out a bit too rough.

"Yeah, we have met up a few times like that already."

"Oh… so you like Suguru?"

"Maybe." You roll your eyes, getting a bit annoyed now, walking further into the dorm and plopping down on Satoru's bed, staring up at him.

Your attitude didn't go unnoticed.

"Maybe?" Satoru stood up fully straight, the pout on his lips turning more into a frown.

"Yeah, maybe he wouldn't care about me spending some time with friends." You scoff, only adding to the anger bubbling up the white-haired male's throat.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He walked in front of you, subconsciously forcing his knee between yours, having you spread your legs to accommodate him standing between them.

The look in his blue irises behind those clunky glasses wasn't of some pathetic nerd who would let his woman cuck him and force him to watch from the corner. I mean, he totally would do that if you wanted him to- but not the time.

You could tell he was getting pissed now, fingers clenching and unclenching, glaring down at you as if he wanted to bite you.

…Hot.

It wouldn't hurt to egg Satoru on a bit, no?

What was he gonna do?

Nothing. (wrong)

Your lips formed a small smirk, your eyes almost gleaming as you leaned back on the palms of your hands, keeping your legs spread a bit too wide to be innocent.

"Nothing. Just that maybe he'd be a better boyfriend for me." You cooed out, being provocative.

Satoru's eye twitched.

The dorm room went silent for a second, just the two of you breathing.

You wanted to keep pushing, opening your mouth- but a strong hand wrapped around the front of your throat, thumb digging into the side to silence you.

"Shut it." Satoru squeezed out of himself, holding back from growling, the way he had leaned down, forcing you to look up at him, had his white bangs fall into his eyes.

Seeing your usual meek nerd get like this had your panties wet.

He was so mean, so so mean.

Satoru had you roughly shoved back and flipped around, his glasses hanging on for dear life while pulling your pants down just enough, not bothering to properly take anything off- panties pulled to the side and a thumb lodged inside of your pathetic cunt, pushing it up against your walls to stretch you out.

"Why him, huh? You really think Suguru could have you this wet just by a few touches? I don't think so."

All you could do was whimper and try to wiggle away, face mushed into a soft pillow, arching your back after a rough slap was delivered to your thigh for trying to run.

"Stay still, didn't you want this?"

"Suguru wou-" Your attempt at being a brat again had the palm that had spanked you slapped over your mouth, forcing your head to be pulled back and your spine to bend more, having your legs tremble.

"I said, shut it."

An embarrassingly large boner had flopped out of Satoru's boxers after you moaned and whined around his hand for a moment- the angry tip nudging at your slick folds, purposefully not even going near the glistening entrance.

"F..fine… shit… if you want to speak… better beg for it." Satoru leaned over you, chest against your back, chin hooked over your shoulder to listen.

Not like he was going to make this easy.

He did take his hand off of your lips, drool smeared across the palm.

"I'm not begging." You tried to talk back, gasping for air when he dragged his hard cock up and down your pussy.

"Beg for it." Satoru breathed out, his hips grinding down against your ass.

"No- mmphn!"

Thick fingers were shoved into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue, middle and ring fingers sliding back and forth on the twitching muscle.

"C'mon, I know you can. Stop being a brat."

This had you thinking for a bit, who knows what he'd do if you didn't comply.

"Pll..hh..hheasshhee.." You managed to speak around the digits, spit already wanting to spill down your chin.

"Please what? I don't understand you, silly girl."

"Plluhleasee fuchhk mhhee.."

How embarrassing, you have never been the one to beg.

"Good girl. But I'm still mad."

You could feel it, the way he let you suck on his fingers while driving a meaty dick inside- not caring for the cries you let out after going too deep.

Your thighs were held together by his, forced to have them smack together after each thrust- eyes rolling back when Satoru started to leave hickeys, biting and nipping the skin of your shoulder and arm, anything his mouth could get to while lying on top of you.

"Never."

thrust

"Forget.''

thrust

"You're m..mine…"

thrust

"Mine…"

The lewd sounds of your sopping cunt and his leaking pre had your head spinning, almost crying from each rough plunge inside.

All you could do was nod in agreement, nails digging into the sheets- bed shaking from the force of Satoru trying to fuck your brain full of him.

He waited for you to cum, having you spasm and tremble a bit, feeling you clench around his aching cock as if you had never had dick this good.

He wasn't done yet.

Glasses askew, he had flipped you over again, quickly pulling out and moving forward- a deliciously dripping cockhead right above your face, two eager hands jerking it.

Satoru made sure to paint your face, letting every last drop get on your skin, smearing and guiding most of the cum to your mouth.

Obviously you kissed the spent tip, swirling your tongue around it for a second.

That had your boyfriend whine, quickly fix his glasses, and look away- as if the tough guy thing had disappeared.

He did feel a bit bad, lying down and cuddling you right after, even licking some of his own seed off of your skin to nuzzle his cheek against yours, acting all cute now while you struggled to catch your breath.

"M s..sorry… I just got nervous ab..bout you being alone with… Sugu.."

"When I get nervous, I imagine everyone around me naked. It helps, Toru."

"WHAT? Y-YOU SHOULDN'T THINK OF ANYONE ELSE NAKED BUT ME!!"

Yoon's notes: short GULP

masterlist

art: @/3vangel1ne_ 

tags: from @yoonchokes

want to join the taglist? HERE

©yoonsucks

all work belongs to @yoonsucks , do not copy, repost, translate or feed into AI !!

[deepsummitfate]

an: eijiro filming you bouncing on his dick to send to katsuki while he's on a mission overseas..

[recording started]

"f-fuck, yea, just like t-that.." eijiro moans, one hand digging into your hips while the other holds his phone in his hands. the camera a little shaky, but you two both don't care.

you're bouncing up and down eijiros chubby length. his thick tip plunges deep into your sweet spot, making your eyes roll to the back of your head and your toes curl.

"e-eiji! so biiiig!" you whimper, both hands placed on his chiselled chest, he lets out a breath. the lewd sounds of your skin slapping and your wetness fill the microphone. your eyes squeeze shut, letting the feeling of eijiros cock take full control of you.

"say hi to– fuck! shit, just like that–! katsuki baby." eijiro groans, his hips snapping up softly to meet your bounces. a creamy ring around his cock and sticky, gooey lines of your arousal mixed with eijiros pre are shown clinging to yours and his thighs with every bounce you make. "o-oh suukkkii.. miss yooouu." you whine out, grinding yourself down on eijiros cock – you let out a high pitched moan and he lets out a deep groan.

eijiro repositions the phone as you begin your movements again, his free hand moves it's way to your sensitive little clit; his thumb pressing down hard on the numb, making you gasp. "mffgh– fuck!!" you curse out, head lulling backwards.

"see how m-much a dirty girl she is? f-fuckin' makin' a mess– o-oooh, fuck, gonna cum." eijiro groans from deep in his chest. his thumb quickens it's circles and you moan out. "ei– ei– mmffg fuck! y-yes, yes ,yes. 'm cumming! 'm cumming!!" you sob out, your hips still and eijiros begins to thrust up into you to finish the job. you let out a silent scream, your thighs shaking as your pussy tightens to cream around the chubby, thick length of eijiros cock.

"s-she's so messy for us k-kats. we miss– oh fuck, cumming!" eijiro stills his hips upward, spurting ropes and ropes deep in your creamy pussy. you whine at the feeling of his hot cum inside before you fall down on his chest. eijiro moves the phone downward to show where the two of you are connected still; taking in a good shot of your pussy now leaking out all of eijiros cum. eijiro's hand lands a soft slap! on your ass, making you whine into him. he moves his phone camera back up so katsuki can see you fucked dumb and drooling on eijiros chest. the red head smiles towards the camera.

"we miss you kats, can't wait for you to be home!"

[video ended]

an: and katsuki jerked himself off so hard that night in his hotel room also thank u all for 500+ followers :'') big smooches for all!

[silkscream]

use me

ੈ✩ aki hayakawa x reader

ੈ✩ wc: 10k

ੈ✩ synopsis: aki finds himself in a predicament when you aren't yourself after a mission.

ੈ✩ tags: 18+ MINORS DNI, enemies to lovers, workplace relationships, sex pollen, dubcon for that reason, smut, hate sex, fingering, face fucking, dom!aki and brat!reader, degradation, biting, choking, drunk sex, impact play

ੈ✩ a/n: happy belated thanksgiving yall

It was your fault – it always was. If you hadn’t directly defied Aki’s orders, maybe you’d be conscious enough for him to take you back to headquarters. Enough to stumble back home at least, instead of sprawled out on Aki’s lap in the backseat of a cab. The look he’d given the driver was apologetic, gentle enough to assure that no, sir, I’m not bringing home an inebriated girl to have my way with her. Work happy hour got a little too crazy.

Of course, that was a lie. 

Your impulse control was terrible. It didn’t help that your temper was worse than Power’s – at least when it came to dealing with Aki, who hated that you got under his skin in a completely different way. Only one year his junior, you had kept to yourself when you had joined Public Safety. It was only a matter of time for him to find out you were an insolent bitch whenever he tried to exert his authority.

It was supposed to be a sting operation. Take down some yakuza members who had liaisons with certain devils. Easy work for you and Aki. 

Despite the mission brief, the two of you had met an entirely different beast. In the back rooms of some dingy bar, the Devil had throbbed and moaned through its leaking pores, its body an amalgamation of every victim that was its prey. The gangly limbs of naked women were encapsulated in a transparent yet muddy flesh. 

Before Aki could so much as whip his katana across the dripping flesh, you extended your daggers quicker than he could blink. You were fast. He hated admitting that. A contract with the Snake devil matched your personality, he always thought — you and your venomous tongue.

A quick slash triggered the Devil’s aggression even more, and out came the fumes. You had dropped to the floor with a thud by the time Aki could make sense of his surroundings, his throat burning from holding his breath. He carried you out of the building as quickly as he could.

Now, here you are, sprawled on his couch, chest rising and falling with deep sleep. Aki is relieved for that, at least – the slaying of the Devil was exhausting on his own with you being passed out. 

Fuck, he needs a drink. 

He opens the liquor cabinet to pour himself a glass of Suntory, cringing at the burn of it sliding down his throat. He glances at the couch to check on you and widens his eyes when he sees that you’re awake. Sitting up, eyes darkened with an emotion he’s never seen in you before.

“Welcome back,” he mutters gruffly. 

You say nothing. You only stare back at him, pupils dilated to the max. Transfixed. You’d never looked at him like that before unless you were several beers in, and even then, he ignored the fact. You say his name in a way that makes his insides heat, his heart blanching in the deep pool of your pupils staring back at him. There’s a frisson of wariness that slices through him as he blinks.

“You need water? Hungry? You were out for a while,” Aki offers politely. His fingers strain against his whiskey glass. 

You shake your head, still staring at him. You blink slowly. His heart stutters.

You close your eyes, shaking your head again. You scratch the back of your neck, cross your arms in a defensive stance as if you’re trying to fold into yourself. 

Your mouth is bone dry and tastes like carpet glue. You want to spit, but Aki’s fuzzy rug looks expensive, so instead you glare at a spot near your feet until your vision stops shimmering. Every cell in your body aches, raw nerve endings sparking against the inside of your skin. Your hands flicker, restless, like you could wring the world’s neck if you tried hard enough.

Aki watches you from his kitchen, shoulders set in a way that’s meant to project calm, but his grip on the whiskey glass is so rigid you expect it to shatter. You think about how long it would take for those fragments to embed under his skin, how much pressure to split the veins on his hand. The thought makes you smile, your lips splitting before you can reel yourself in. 

Fuck. The Devil’s not done with you.

You can tell by the way every face and voice in your head smears together, blurring into a chorus. Everything feels raw, open to the air—like you've been skinned. You try to sit still, screw your eyes shut in focus. You try to remember your training, but the memory of the operation keeps looping; flashing back to the Devil’s whine, the glisten of its jelly skin, the gloom-thick stench of lust marbling the air. The need to bite something — someone — buzzes under your tongue.

Aki still hasn’t moved. You can almost see the thoughts grinding gears behind his eyes, all those rational synapses clattering: She’s still high as balls, he’s thinking, need to keep her calm, need to keep her from stabbing me in the chest.

He watches as you hunch forward, elbows to knees, hands knit tight under your chin. Your breath is uneven. The horror of the Devil’s lair should’ve rattled you, but there’s no trembling this time, not even a trace of the shakes you got after most jobs. 

Instead, your energy spikes sharp, restless — a low whine in your bones, a hunger that makes your teeth clench. Something is still inside you, and not in the spectral, symbolic sense. The Devil’s residue is in your blood.

Aki sets the glass down. You were always a little unpredictable after missions, but not like this. Not so… untethered. He crouches in front of the couch, careful not to crowd.

“You okay?” he whispers. You open your eyes. Pupils blown wide, almost animal.

Smells hit you: aftershave, briny sweat, whiskey, a bitter-laced edge beneath it all. The air is saturated with him. It makes your head spin, suffocating and sweet. You pick at your sleeve, unpicking a loose thread, then press a fist to your mouth to bite it off, but your teeth won’t cooperate. You want to bite something, but not fabric.

“I’m hungry,” you say, forcing the words past the pressure in your throat, the softness of your tongue. Your voice doesn’t sound like yours. Aki nods, missing what you mean entirely.

“I can heat up some leftovers. And there’s frozen gyoza in the freezer — lemme —” He starts to stand, but you grab him by the wrist. Hard. A strange sensation buzzes in your fingertips.

His warmth floods your palm, so much more solid than you expect. Bones and sinew under skin, somehow both fragile and immovable. You can feel his pulse, not in his wrist but inside your own chest. Aki tries to pull free, politely at first, and then with a controlled twist. You don’t budge.

“I’m hungry,” you repeat, aware that your voice comes out odd, almost childish, stringy with saliva. You want to gnaw him down to the marrow.

Realization passes over his stormy blue eyes. He gives you a look, neutral as possible, like a pane of glass over fear.

“Huh. You’re still under the Devil’s influence,” he says, voice low. “It’ll pass. Just — just hold still for a second.”

He reaches again for his whiskey, but this time you yank him all the way down to couch-level. The bottle tips, and you barely notice. His face hovers a few inches from yours, raven-black hair falling out of its neat tie. The urge to laugh, or bite, boils up your throat. You don’t know which will come out first.

He tries to keep his breathing even, but the scent of him fills your lungs, as deep as the Devil’s maw. It’s a miracle he hasn’t cuffed you already, called for backup, or tranquilized you on the spot. Self-control: the virtue he worships. You ache to see if you can break it.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” Aki says, maybe to himself, maybe to you. “You need to just ride it out, okay?”

From this close, he can see the faded mark of a cut that ridges underneath your bottom lip — a nick you’d gotten in a fist fight weeks ago. He remembers the blood, the way you swiped at him with your sleeve and laughed at him for caring. Even then, your face was full of drunken ecstasy, eventually softened with the dullness of cheap bar drinks. There’s nothing soft in your face now — only hunger, deep as a pit.

“No,” you gasp. “I need— I need to get it out.”

The room’s heat prickles your skin, sweat gathering at your collarbone and pooling in the dip of your thighs. Your body feels like it’s stitched together by an invisible string pulled too taut. Muscles at war with your nerves. 

Aki’s face, blushing against porcelain skin, radiates a morbid magnetism that you can only attribute to wanting to see a car crash. Your hands shake with the possibility of your touch being destructive, every cell under your skin scraping desperately to the surface in a seething crawl.

Your vision whites out a bit as you feel heat fogging the inside of your skull — a smothering, hormonal blanket. Aki pulls away ands spoons some leftover rice into a bowl as you watch him, the careful movement of his forearms, his Adam’s Apple bobbing as he regards you with the wary cadence of someone handling a wild animal. It takes everything in you not to reach for him, to unspool all the tightness in your skin to lick the salt off his sweat.

You’re fucking burning. The stench of the Devil still permeating through your pores, turning itself into something utterly terrible. You can hear your pulse in your ears, static thickening everything. Somewhere across the apartment, the microwave beeps. Aki sets the bowl in front of you and keeps his hand on the rim, steadying it. His other hand hovers level with your face, palm out, halting.

His face in the lamp-lit apartment is tired, blue-shadowed beneath the cheekbones, but his gaze pins you. He’s fighting the habit of walking away, leaving you alone to self-destruct. That’s new. He’s always been a dick about personal boundaries — his and everyone else’s — but right now, for once, he’s not treating you like a bomb. He’s treating you like a person in the middle of coming apart.

You reach out and take the bowl, but your hands don’t quite work. The rice tastes like nothing. Cigarette ash and wet chalk. You feel Aki’s stare on you, and when you look up, he doesn’t flinch or look away. 

You want to lie down and float until the next morning, maybe for a week, but Aki hovers with that draining, careful patience that’s almost sympathy. He sits, hands loose, knees apart, breathing through his nose. You can taste the air. Salt. Sweat. Cherry trees blooming in the spring.

He’s waiting for you to come back to yourself. That’s what he does, the professional: waits things out, nurses the process, ignores the mess until it stops being inconvenient. Except you’re not sure if it will, not this time.

You want to tell him: There’s something wrong inside you, and if you can’t get it out, you’ll ruin the room. The staccato itch in your gums, the ache in your bones — if it was possible to peel yourself open right here, you’d claw your ribcage empty.

You eat spoonfuls of rice, bites of gyoza. The meat still feels frozen and the rice feels stale.

“Think I lost my appetite,” you mutter.

Aki glances at you, but you can tell from your peripheral vision that a glare is pulsating underneath his stoic face.

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously,” you bark back. Aki scowls the way he always does, venom spreading on a tongue that he refuses to use because he knows better. He knows you’re incapacitated in a completely unprecedented way, so he doesn’t snap back at you. Just this once.

He mumbles something under his breath and puts away the dishes carelessly as he swigs more whiskey. When he sits down next to you, your pulse jumps at a depth that makes your chest hurt. As if your heart is trying to dive itself down into the deep end of the pool.

“I’ve never seen shit like that, you know,” he murmurs, trying to make conversation. An attempt at casual. “That Devil. I don’t even know if a Sex Trafficking Devil could even be real — not that it’s not a human fear, but it’s too specific.”

“There’s a fear for everything,” you mumble.

You think about how much your heart is lurching, how the cells underneath your skin are thrumming. Yearning for contact.

Lust is what is plaguing you, ultimately. It clouds you too much for you to say it out loud. Instead, you pounce on the person who cares enough to feed you.

The forward momentum knocks the air out of both of you — a dusty cough from your own lungs, a grunt rumbling somewhere beneath his ribs. You pin his shoulder under the cut of your jaw and clamber across his lap, knees punching into the sad couch cushions. There’s a sour, animal joy in the way he tries to block you, hands rigid and hovering at the jagged notches of your hips. The heat under your skin spikes. Every neuron in you is tuned to the need for friction. He’s solid, all sinew and stubbornness. The world teeters on the edge of dizzy white noise.

“Stop it,” he snaps, more bark than bite, but you can taste the fear in it — righteous, responsible. Professional. You ride the tremor of his voice, intoxicated by the pushback, how he refuses to meet your stare even as you press your fever into him. The hardness of his thigh is a dare. You aren’t sure whose heart is hammering harder.

“Make me,” you bite out. Your tongue is numb, every word dragging velvet behind the teeth. You hear him swallow, feel the reverberation of a grunt against your chest. He manages to wedge a forearm between your bodies, not enough to push you away but enough to set a boundary and define the line.

“Don’t,” he says, voice ragged. “This isn't you right now.”

He says it like an apology. Like he’s sorry to remind you of yourself. Meanwhile, you want to crack his name open on your teeth. His cologne — firewood and amber — floods you, making the bitter strand of want under your tongue tingle again. You press your mouth to the hollow above his collarbone, his pulse vibrating against your lips.

Aki says your name, voice tight, and only then do you realize your rough grip on him, fingers fisted in his shirt hard enough to rip. You stammer out an apology, but it feels like your senses are flooded with an offending gas. Sweet aroma, the taste of his sweat.

“Please,” you gasp, the sensation in your throat hideous and radioactive. Your jaw grinds as you rock into him, climbing onto his body into a straddle. “Aki-kun—”

Shame flashes bright in your throat at the high-pitched plea that falls out of your mouth. It’s not like you. Aki knows that, especially, because his blue eyes are bright and wide with shock, cock stirring at the implication of it. You want to open him at the seams, so you’re clawing at his collar, fiddling with buttons with childlike frustration.

“Stop,” Aki scolds. The calmness in his voice is infuriating. He has you by the upper arms now, fingers pinning into muscle.

“No— just let me—”

“No,” he says firmly. “You need to wait it out.”

It goes against everything in your pulse, your state of mind. Bruises you in a pulsating pain. You want skin and weight and teeth and he won’t fucking give it to you. You press your pelvis against his, the ache in your thighs forcing you to press harder, to find a calm within the blizzard inside your bones.

“Just — fuck, please,” you slur into his shoulder, tongue failing. “Need you. Need you to make it better.”

Aki breathes heavily, closing his eyes in a useless attempt at containment. He doesn’t open his eyes as you rock harder into his lap, the wet heat of you stirring his cock in ways he wants to curse God for. You can feel the slightest bit of friction when he’s half-hard, and it makes you laugh, snarling as you dig your fingers deeper into the muscle of his arms.

“No,” he mutters, trying to wrangle your wrists into submission, but you’re able to break free with the whip of your hands. You can feel tears stinging from the corner of your eyes, threatening to spill over. The heat underneath your skin feels unbearable now — you don’t even want to rip him open more. Your urges are reduced to a tiny animal’s, feral and chaotic and frustrating in its repression.

You press your forehead to the knot of his tie, fingers trembling at the steady column of his neck, and say, “Help me.”

Your voice is terribly weak. The gnawing inside you is starting to hurt in a way that feels irreversible. He feels like the only way to drown the ache out, and you’re too frenzied to examine the reason why. You beg in wet gasps, drowning in suffocating heat.

He freezes at your plea. It’s broken, almost pathetic, coming out of your mouth, which doesn’t suit you. It doesn’t sound like your voice. He strokes your cheek like you’re something wild and half-tamed.

“It’s the Devil’s effects," he murmurs, trying to soothe you, "It’s not real. You’ll feel normal tomorrow.”

“It hurts,” you whimper, clutching the front of his shirt. A sob bubbles up raw and ugly in your throat, not even from the excruciating illusory hot flashes from the Devil’s effects, but for the sole fact that Aki refuses to touch you back. 

You needed it, needed him. Did he hate you so much to refuse you relief?

The synapses in your brain flash. It’s all too loud in your head. When you look at him, something changes — if he won’t help, you’ll have to take it for yourself, won’t you?

You kiss him.

It's not a gentle brush. Your lips press against his in a collision that leaves his teeth rattling. You grab at his face, palms flat against his cheekbones as if you could climb into his head and startle him into coherence by force. Aki tenses, a hot silver of shock lighting through his body before he jerks his head away, electrified and breathing through his teeth.

“What the fuck —” Aki spits out, his voice strangled. A string of spit snaps between you, embarrassment flashing nuclear inside the both of you.

A dark flush bleeds lightly under the pale skin of his cheeks, settling into his neck that reminds you of sweet prey ready for teeth. You expect him to push you off, grab one of his weapons, summon Kon for the sake of restraining you. Spit in your face and call you worthless. Instead, he only stares at you.

You should retreat. You want to crawl into yourself — the mortification of kissing him breaking through the Devil’s haze to remind you of the reality of your relationship. The humiliation of it all sobers you, makes you square your shoulders, even if the gnawing ache in your chest is about to crawl out into a new beast.

The self-loathing throbs in your throat, shame blanketing your body and turning it frozen. Your brain frenzies beyond the Devil’s heat — fuck, I should apologize, or I could kiss him again and make him want me, or I could run away and find someone else to fuck, or maybe I should kill myself—

Your train of thought is interrupted by Aki yanking you forward by a fistful of hair. His mouth crashes into yours, heat funneling into the narrow point of contact where lips feel like carnations. His tongue slashes into your mouth, furious and unpracticed, hurried as if he's the one affected by the spores of lust instead.

Aki bites you like a warning and you let the pain bloom on your mouth, salty copper bleeding on your tongue. His fingers bunch at the roots of your hair, pulling slightly through the strands. His roughness might make you laugh if you could breathe at all, but you’re too engrossed in the taste of whiskey and blood and the sharpness of his teeth. At least a year’s worth of unvoiced feelings melting into unfettered lust.

You push him hard until his back hits the back of the couch. Your mouth descends onto his jugular, then the side of his neck, chasing his pulse. You bite him hard and he groans, feeling the draw of blood.

“Ow! Crazy bitch,” he mutters, pupils midnight against the moon-paleness of his face. “I should fucking sedate you.”

“You don’t want to,” you slur, teeth bared and taunting. “You like me crazy. You love how much I want to fuck you right now because it’s what you want when you’re sober. Without a fucking Devil.”

You crash your lips to Aki’s again — desperate and rough, teeth catching, defenses breaking like shattered porcelain. Saliva, spit, the resinous taste of his cologne. You claw at him, breaking the buttons of his shirt like you want crawl inside his sternum to feel how he ticks.

He groans as you bite the hard line of his jaw. He fists your hair as you find the skin above his ribs, his own hands going to your hips the way a man might try to cage a rabid thing.

Aki pulls away from you to see you beyond the ruination that his hands will extend. It’s why he blocks out the Future Devil during times like these — he could see your death if he wanted to, the way you’d come undone from his actions with a sob. Anything that could make his cock throb.

“Aki,” you whimper. “Please.”

Your whines raise in pitch as you rut against him. It’s only then, out of his feral haze, that Aki realizes how fucking hard he is. He groans as he feels you through the wetness of your panties, which drips through the thin linen of your trousers.

“Fuck,” he groans, grabbing your wrists, “Wait— wait. Just—”

“I can’t,” you rasp. “It hurts. Hurts so much. Need you—”

He gasps when you pull him onto the carpet, kneeling as your nimble fingers tug down the zipper of his trousers. He was aroused from the moment you kissed him, he realizes. Aki can only resort to calming you down with calloused fingers combing through your hair.

“Shhh, shh— just wait—”

But you can’t wait. Neither can he — not when you’re in between his legs, kneeling with your mouth watering. It doesn’t even feel fair at this point to let you suck his dick — aren’t you the one who needs relief?

Aki takes your hand and pulls you upward, coaxing you into straddling his lap again. You don’t protest, merely kissing his neck with feverish eagerness as you lift yourself enough to tug your trousers off. He groans, every kiss feeling like a branding, like liquid gold burning molten upon his ordinary flesh. Was he affected by the Devil too?

You take a reprieve from kissing to nuzzle into his neck. Of course, this is what makes him freeze — the tenderness.

He had gotten used to your chaos, shed his reservations along with your humility when the fever truly hit you because in the back of his mind, it would always be tongue and teeth with you. 

The thought of fucking you would flicker in his brain at the rarest moments. When it did, it was always rough, you attempting to dominate him to prove a point, him putting you in your place just because he could with sheer strength.

He hadn’t prepared for softness.

“Aki-kun,” you sob. “I can’t—”

The pit of his stomach deepens at the sound of your voice.

“It’s okay,” he mutters uselessly, petting your hair. 

“No,” you whimper. “F-Feel like I’m gonna die if you don't —”

He realizes, acutely, at this moment, that his dream was never a passing fantasy at all. It was what he wanted most, buried under layers and layers of professionalism, of uncaring faux-placidity that called to logic.

You are nestled at the crook of his neck, tears falling onto him, whimpering out of sheer desperation. Admittedly, this was another passing daydream of his. You being cute. Pathetic. Malleable.

“Please, Aki-kun,” you whisper into his neck. “I want you. It feels terrible.”

He hitches his breath before lowering his hand to the apex of your thighs, gathering your slit upwards to lubricate your throbbing clit. You gasp at the intrusion, your cunt pulsating automatically at the prospect of finally getting filled.

His touch is all knuckles and heat as his hands fumble past the shoddy elastic of your underwear. The wetness startles him, his hand trembling a little as he touches you, like he’s bracing himself for a shock that doubles back through his bones. Maybe he is.

You buck against his fingers, ungraceful, grinding against him like he’s merely an object — a handle or hinge or switch to be thrown. The ragged drag of his fingers against your clit sparks the air inside your head, blowing out every rational thought in your mind and reducing it to the need to come, god, just fucking come, and then maybe you’d stop shaking.

He kisses you again. Catches your mouth and sucks on your tongue as if to wring out the poison from you himself. It’s difficult to breathe. You don’t care much. You want him to suffocate you at the root, lips bruised and sloppy. Fist-fight intimacy, skin to skin in collision. You bite his bottom lip and the guttural noise from his mouth has you careening.

His fingers are long, knuckle-deep inside your pussy until he hits the spot inside you that feels like bruised fruit. The delicious pressure of it makes you whine against his mouth, breathless, eyes rolling back into your skull at the pleasure.

You claw at each other until your shirt is completely unbuttoned. Nails snagging at skin, not knowing or caring if red trails are left behind. Aki’s fingers curl inside, blunt force fucking you open while his thumb rolls around your clit. His other hand seizes a fistful of your hair to control the angle of your mouth, teasing your eagerness by pulling his own mouth further away from you.

You gasp at the slight pain in your scalp, only soothed by the peak growing inside you.

“That’s it,” he sighs. “That’s a good girl. Just listen to me and I’ll take care of you, alright?”

You whimper in response, looking submissive for the first time in your life. He feels fucking insane as he overstimulates you, watches the tears flow from your eyes.

Aki cants your hips forward, the knuckles of his hand rough and merciless in the way they work you open, and your soggy cunt pulses around his fingers with such frantic need that your vision flickers with motes of black. His teeth scrapes your jaw, biting deep at the bone and bruising your resolve to fight back. You’re broken apart for him, humiliating in its helpless immediacy, and the aftershock leaves every muscle in your legs fluttering at the edges.

“Aki—”

“Shut up,” he grits. “Shut up and fucking come on my fingers.”

The room fades away until it’s just you and him and the ache. Your orgasm hits like a tidal wave, the dusty warmth of whiskey radiating from his neck mixing with the sweetest aroma that you would only be able to describe as otherworldly. It had to be the Devil’s doing. You’re coming on his fingers alone and everything feels like daisies.

He groans as he watches you come. As your body relaxes from your high, you feel the precise shape of his cock underneath you. You wriggle against him, hard enough to grind your clit against the head of his cock. He grunts like he’s been punched, making you want to rub harder, to coax him through the threshold of his pants.

He pulls his hand free with a noise, then smears your wetness along the hungry seam of your mouth. The taste of yourself is sharp and musky and obscene, and you lick his fingers despite it, kitten-like. He grunts and pushes his fingers onto your tongue. You can feel the violence of his dislike for you sizzling under the surface, even as he thumbs your lips and pulls them open for a real kiss.

You let him have you. There is nothing left to do. The Devil’s heat left you helpless, skin flayed into strips, but his touch is the salve now, the only way to cool the fever thrumming through your bones. He sits back, spreading his knees, the tent in his pants lurid and obvious. You want to laugh in his face, tease him about it, but your voice is broken. All you can manage is a hungry gasp of his name, soft and desperate through the tears you’d almost forgotten were pooling in your eyes.

You paw at his crotch frantically. With a groan, he yanks your hands away and you make the most pathetic noise.

“I need—”

“Calm down,” he commands sternly. “I won’t fuck you if you’re not patient.”

“I feel like I’m dying —”

He grabs your face roughly, squeezing your cheeks with his long fingers. “Go into my bedroom and wait for me there. Make sure all your clothes are off and fucking behave.”

He watches your face sour like a child’s and his lips almost quirk up at how it’s a reprieve from whatever beast is inside you at the moment. His eyes glance at your pert ass, the soaked lace of your underwear taunting him as you walk to the bedroom.

Aki swears under his breath and drinks another gulpful of whiskey. Takes his gun out of his holster and morbidly contemplates how worse this can get. Whatever (unfortunately common) dream this was of his, the image of you nearly naked in his apartment, it had manifested into a nasty curse. He’d have to live with the fever of it.

Anticipation sparks up your arms and across your shoulders as you enter his bedroom. You’ve never once slept in his bed, never crossed this particular threshold except to rifle his room for evidence of pssible embarrassing secrets. There isn’t much: the linen is stark, the books beside the low bed are dog-eared as hell, the closet so empty you can count every hanger. The only things out of place are your own, scattered in a pathetic trail: panties, blouse, blazer. All a little torn. All smelling like the inside of his jacket now.

You want to stuff your mouth with the pillow and scream through it. Instead, you flop onto your back, blood humming in hot, angry pulses. You’re so wet you half expect a slick mark to stain the sheets when you sit up again.

You hear Aki’s footsteps before you see him, deliberate and mean. There’s nothing of his usual stiffness when he enters; his shirt is already unbuttoned, sleeves rolling back to the torque of his forearms. Black hair down, tie discarded. It’s obscene how self-contained he is while you twitch on the mattress like a deboned fish. The assessment in his eyes is flat, clinical.

He flashes you a stern look  and you lay back down on your elbows, scowling like a rejected dog. He almost wants to laugh. He sighs instead.

“I should fuck your mouth with the way you’ve been acting,” he grunts. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You pretend your mouth doesn’t water. He can see the flash in your eyes, the tantalizing glint displaying what’s probably going on in your head right now. Better not poke the bear if he’s supposed to tame it.

The thought of it makes your mouth salt over, thick and selfish. He should fuck your mouth. For the sin of biting him, for the humiliation of lust collapsing your body so quickly, for the crime of wanting, more deeply than air, the specifically horrid, beautiful taste of Aki.

He stands at the edge of the bed, gaze raking you up and down, and the lines at his mouth are deeper than you’ve ever seen them. He’s so still, even the breath in his nose is almost silent. Disgust, amusement, hunger — you can’t tell which occupies more of his face. He doesn’t smell like soap, just that flat chemical of his body, maybe some lingering pepper of cordite and ash under his fingernails. He’d touched his gun five minutes ago. You can smell it.

With the first step forward, Aki’s whole body resolves into force. This isn’t the Aki from the office, or out in the field, or the bored, ceremonial Aki who covers his mouth when he yawns. It’s something else: a heat with nowhere to go except toward you. He grabs you by the hair at the root, hard enough for your scalp to sting a bit. You feel giddy.

“You’re going to behave,” he says flatly.

“If you don’t get in me now, I’m going to kill you.” You glare. He tugs harder.

“You’ll have to try harder,” Aki says, a sneer curling at the edge of his mouth. His grip at your scalp is calculated, the flex of his arm telegraphing how little it would take to break your neck, if you were anyone else. 

He doesn’t move, not until your glare softens and your body slackens, sopping-wet and almost cowardly in the sheets.

Then, a single motion: he yanks you upright, plants you on your knees, bends your head back until you’re looking up at the cloudy lampshade and his knuckles are digging into your hairline. Your eyes cross with the pressure, and you suck in a breath. There — already, just like that, all the fury is sluiced through your nerve endings and replaced with that keening hunger. 

You want to bite his hand. Instead, you flatten your tongue out, panting open-mouthed at his wrist.

He holds the back of your head, other hand wrestling the mess of briefs and pants lower on his hips. Then he’s hard and right there and he presses the crown of his cock to your lips, cool and clinical, a doctor measuring your reflexes. Your voice is gone, burned up in all the other screaming, so you show him: mouth wide, tongue wet and shameless on the tip, fucking delighted when he twitches against your taste buds.

Aki hisses — a cuss exhaled to the ceiling — and shoves past your teeth in one go. Your eyes water, and the hand tangled in your hair tightens.

Your mouth feels fucking amazing. Your lips suck into what feels like an incredibly tight ring.

“Careful with your teeth,” he groans, tapping your face unkindly. “Told you to fucking behave.”

You moan, taking him down to the shaft as you choke on his cock. He gasps when he hits the back of your throat and hears you gag. He makes the terrible mistake of looking down to see you choking on him and his stomach stirs with overwhelming lust. Any longer and he feels like he’ll blow his load.

This is not going to help her, he thinks briefly. She needs to cum.

He exhales as he pulls on your hair, your mouth whining as you chase the head of his cock. It’s almost precious how much you want him. Maybe it would be if you weren’t ravenous.

“Hey,” he warns. “Relax.”

He manhandles you onto your back and you nearly drool, blown-out eyes wide as saucers. You already look fucked out, wet eyelashes sticking together.

He circles your clit and you make a wounded noise that gets swallowed by his mouth. Aki has never cared much for kissing — it was always easier to bite and lick, fuck whoever wanted him hard and fast so he could send them away quicker. A dirty, rough fuck that ended clean, nothing to be developed afterward.

Unfortunately, kissing you feels like a drug.

Aki loves the plushness of your lips, wet moans spilling in between spit. His fingers are deft at your clit, grind and rhythm offset just enough to keep you guessing, desperate, never able to draw a proper breath. He reigns you in by the nape of the neck, hand planted at your jaw to catch the noises you make.

You want his fucking cock inside you. Nothing short of that will satisfy the hollowed-out ache. You push against his thick length with shameless impatience, nails catching on the line of his hip. Your legs fall apart and your heat stains his skin, enough that he shudders. For a moment the only sound is breath, the wet drag of his shaft on your cunt.

He lines up at the entrance, splits you open in a lazy push. The slow threat of being filled in one measured movement — Aki is determined to make you feel every last inch. It’s a violence, the way he feeds himself inside you, but your whole body sings for it, nerve endings shrieking in relief as you pulse around him.

His chin tucks at your ear as he pushes deep, hands pinning your wrists above your head. His cock is so thick inside you that you can barely breathe, but you drag your body against his desperately as if you could manage to get him any deeper.

“Aki,” you whimper. “Aki-kun—”

“I know,” he mumbles. “I know. That’s it. Just take it.”

“Faster,” you gasp, squirming against him. Your heel knocks against the small of his back. “More—”

“I’m the one in control, you brat,” he hisses. “Be good so you’ll feel better.”

“Keep being mean,” you grin, your disposition nearly hypnagogic. “Makes me wet.”

He shuts you up with two fingers shoved in your mouth. You can feel his pulse in them, each shiver a counterpoint to the brutal invasion of his cock inching deeper between your legs. Aki fucks you with precision, like he wants to prove a point about what you’re capable of taking. 

Your jaw aches from the stretch, but the ache between your legs burns hotter; you clench around him and revel in the frustration that creeps into his face, hair falling over his sweat-damp brow. You want to kick him in the chest and split your knuckles on his ribs, but what you do is slither your tongue along his fingers and bite.

He hisses, lets go of your wrists with a long snap, and then you are everywhere at once — your nails clawing at his shoulders, your thighs binding him in place, your teeth grazing skin when you pull his hand away from your lips and clamp down, savoring the copper taste of blood. He lands a smack against your cheek hard enough to light up your vision. You don’t flinch. You giggle.

“You like it filthy,” you laugh, high and uneven. “What would your little office rats say, seeing you fuck me like a animal?”

He grinds your clit with his thumb, no mercy, and your words melt into a gummy moan. The devil-spawned need in your gut is a siren song, and he’s matching the rhythm of it, hips slamming you open, cock hitting deep enough to make your bones shake.

After a minute you’re lightheaded, your nails embedded in his arms. He leans close, flattening you to the bed, his hand at your jaw so your face opens to his mouth — or to a slap, you don’t care which — and you’re trapped in the best kind of panic. Every time his hips hitch forward, you feel the collision of your thighs together. His cocks grind ups against the patch inside you that’s so raw it doesn’t feel pleasure, just bright light and sound. You float in it. You want it to drown you.

He pistons harder and slammins that spot so fiercely your teeth buzz. You arch your back, delirious, moaning at a fever pitch. Aki looms over you, his black hair swinging forward in wild streaks, the shadow of his cheekbones stark and mean. Sweat drips down the hard line of his neck onto your chest, each drop a scald that makes you keen.

“Is this what you wanted?” he hisses into your ear. “Needed it this dirty? You’re a fucking mess. Look at you—”

You whimper, wanting to answer but all that comes out are wet, slurred noises. He snakes his hand down, pinching your clit between two knuckles hard enough to make you sob.

“Speak.”

“Yes, yes, fuck, yes, Aki, just—” You swallow, tasting salt-iron from your own bitten tongue.

You lose the thread of the next few seconds — everything is a swirling, seething pulse of wet friction, the push and burn as Aki rams you open, his grip implacable at your hip. The ache in you subsides and is replaced with delicious pleasure. Despite the ache being soothed, the hunger seems to grow.

You want to say: You are in control. You want to prove it by making a mess of him, make him come before you do, draw his resolve out and snap it between your thighs. But every time your body tries to obey that ambition, he pins you firmer. Hands flattening you, forearm heavy across your collarbones. He angles your pelvis, the length of him pushing deeper than you knew was possible. You gasp, and your next moan is a shiver right at the line of pain. Cleansing, almost sacred.

“Holy fuck,” he moans. “You’re fucking dripping all over me.”

“Oh god,” you gasp, your orgasm blinding.

“That’s it,” he rambles. “Ride it out, baby. Cum on my cock. I’ll fuck it out of you.”

If you didn’t already know what the end felt like, you’d think you were dying. It’s the kind of climax that steals voice and thought and snaps a white-hot fuse along your spine. It detonates against the scarred insides of your skull. 

Your nails dig into Aki’s arms so deep you feel tendon slide, and there’s a bleak little joy in knowing you’ll both see the marks for days. Every muscle in your thighs and belly knots and holds you rigid around him, every nerve a wire pulled so tight it threatens to bust. Your body convulses, seesawing against the length of him, pussy squeezing in desperate waves.

Aki is whimpering, something you didn’t think possible. He’s glassy with sweat and shaking as he fucks through your aftershocks. His hands digg into your hips like he could anchor himself to you and survive the flood. He slows down slightly.

You come back to yourself with a mouth full of his palm — he’s covered your sobbing, bitten-wet mouth with his huge, shaking hand to quiet the next insane sound. His cock is still throbbing inside you; you feel every pulse ringing in your lower stomach.

“Shh. It’s okay. Stop crying.”

You’re not crying, you want to spit at him. Instead, you suck his index finger into your mouth, drag your tongue from knuckle to tip, and stare him down with wild, ruined eyes. Defiant even in devastation.

He leaves the hand over your mouth, just until your spasms subside, until the arch in your back collapses and your legs fall open, boneless and twitching. Then he pulls away, a string of saliva glistening between your tongue and the rough pad of his thumb. He’s breathing like he’s just run a mile. You reach u -- grasp his wrist, keep his hand just above your face, ready to bite or beg again if it comes down to it.

“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down,” you choke out around the edges of his skin, your voice shredded and hoarse. “If you stop now, I’ll never forgive you—”

He slides his hand down, palm cradling your cheek with unwarranted gentleness. 

"Tell me how it feels,” he snaps. “I’m not stopping.”

You want to throttle him; you want to praise him. You’re trembling, not with fear, but with the sense that if he pulled out now, the rest of you would follow—your tongue, your heart, your spinal cord, all in one long red string.

“Keep going or I’ll—”

He bucks against you, rough and animal, just the way you like. Your orgasm has made you so loose and slick it’s an invitation: come apart again, this is what you’re for.

“Shit. Good girl,” he pants, and you hate him for it. 

You buck hard, knock his jaw with your head, and he’s so surprised at the pushback that for a second you can flip the balance. You straddle him in one twist, slamming down, and his cock splits you open so hard your vision goes white for a second. He tries to choke you just to regain control, but you wrench out of his grasp.

Every fiber of muscle in your body spasms at the stretch of this new angle. You gasp.

Unconsciously, you clench around him, and Aki swears under his breath, violent and soft, gripping your ass hard enough to leave fingerprints. You set the pace, frenzied and clumsy at first —then more confident, riding the sluggish roll of his hips until something inside you starts to melt. He feels impossibly thick, every controlled pulse of his body grazing the spot that’d make you lose your balance and brains in a single blow. You brace yourself with a palm against his sternum and dig your nails in, using it for leverage as you grind downward.

Aki exhales hard. You feel the tremor in his thighs as he tries to keep up. You stare down at him, shaking. His face is a snarl, but behind it his mouth trembles with restraint. His hands clutch your hipbones, fingers scoring red into your skin, and you get the hint — rock faster or lose the upper hand. So you do.

You grind down until the only thing left of you is sensation — a hot, wrung-out rag, sore and fevered, nothing but a mouth to open and a cunt to fuck.

He knows it; he feels it in the way your body seizes, the way your voice devours itself: Aki, Aki, Aki, please, more, more, you’re killing me, I love it, I’ll do anything, anything, anything you want.

He lets you ride him until you’re undone. Then, at the flashpoint just before you break again, he grabs your hair at the nape and yanks you down to kiss him. It’s all teeth: he bites your lip so hard the copper of blood is clear against his tongue. It’s a gasp, a lurch, and suddenly he’s on top again, turning you over onto your stomach and pushing a hand against your shoulder blades.

He thrusts so deep inside you it’s unreal, It almost hurts, the pleasure so sharp you see nothing but afterimage and dye-bloomed shadow. You know it’s meant to be a punishment, but you only feel pure bliss. You can feel your peak building again, empty-headed, mouthing obscenities into his sheets as your body flails and shakes.

“Gonna come?” he growls, striking the plushness of your ass with a slap. “What happened to that attitude, huh? Now you’re fucked out and taking it like a good little slut.”

You can’t answer — your jaw’s slack, and every muscle in your body is twitching with white-hot need. You grip the mattress so hard your knuckles turn bone-white; the sound you make isn’t even a real word, just a raw, kinetic groan torn wide open by his hand beating a fresh red bloom across your skin of your ass.

“That’s what I thought,” he sneers. The satisfaction is real, but there’s a ragged edge to him, too. Like it costs him something to hold you down, to fuck you so furiously, to let this side of himself win.

He birds his hand in your hair, bunching the strands at the base of your skull, and yanks your head up so your back arches obscenely, so he can see your face in profile. 

“Look at you,” he spits, grinning feral, “all cock-drunk. How’re you gonna go back to work after this, huh?”

Your eyes flutter; in the blur, you crane your neck to see his face, red and splattered with sweat, pupils so wide it’s almost demonic. You try to snarl at him but your mouth’s as raw as the rest of you. You can only gasp his name.

“Please, I’m so close,” you gasp. “Don’t stop—”

You’re whimpering, knees shaking in the sheets, each thrust landing like a hammer blow in the base of your skull. The world has collapsed to two points — the slice of Aki’s grip in your hair and the brutal, friction-ripped seam of pleasure where he splits you open. With every slam and slap, your body tenses tighter, until the only thing left is a coil of pressure along your spine, ready to snap.

He wrenches you up by the roots so your back arches more, chin thrown high, and you hear in your own ears an inhuman wail, a scream too raw for language. Your cunt clamps down, milking his cock in wild pulses. You spasm through your climax, tears streaming down your face as every muscle in you goes rigid and then shudders apart.

Aki is cursing you — he’s lost his own cadence, the measured rhythm giving way to ragged, uneven pounding, like he’s desperate for release but determined to gut every last tremor from your body first. 

His voice is close to your ear, filthy, insistent, babbling curse after curse with your name laced through it—fucking take it, you brat, you wanted this, didn’t you, always such a greedy bitch, can’t get enough, gonna make you so fucking sore—and you know, with bright certainty, that you’ll never want anything else again.

You crumple forward as your orgasm rocks through you, half-sobbing, face mashed into the damp sheets. Aki keeps rutting into you, slower but impossibly deep, letting you wring out the last dying electric arcs of the orgasm. Your legs are numb, shaking uncontrollably, but for some reason, your mind is completely blank.

Aki just keeps hitting that deep, devastating place over and over, groaning filth in your ear—"Yeah, that’s it, make a mess. Wanna feel you milk me dry — fuck, you’re tight — you want my cum that bad?”

You nod, or try to, but your neck won’t cooperate. You only whimper and sob. He pushes you down, burying your face into the pillow, and the suffocation makes your last spasms of need clench down tight.

He fucks you through the comedown, doesn’t even slow or coddle. He just holds you under the crux of the shoulder, rutting, cock twitching so hard you can feel every jolt as he loses control. You can’t beg anymore, can’t even think. You want him to fill you so bad your stomach hurts. When he shoves in, bottoming all the way out, the heat inside you is electric. 

You sag in the sheets, face mashed sideways, Aki’s teeth pressing into the tendon of your neck. His free hand claws at your thigh, jerking you back onto him. The second he cums, it floods you so intimately. Sugar boiled down into syrup.

He collapses forward, grunting, weight pinning you to the mattress. His tongue flat against the back of your ear. All salt and exhaustion. You can’t move, can’t think, don’t really want to. You lose track of how long you lay there. Maybe you black out.

Aki appears in the edge of your vision, outline blunted by exhaustion. You expect him to light a cigarette, maybe nudge you off the bed with the tip of his shoe, but instead he throws his shirt over your hips and crouches low. 

You feel your wakefulness go in and out. When you open your eyes, he’s holding a wet hand towel, steaming faintly, probably microwaved. He kneels beside you, eyes slitted with an anger that’s less about you and more about the failure of his own professionalism.

“You with me?” he asks, voice stripped of all the venom it had from before. He checks your pupils, the tender press of his thumb to your cheekbone almost apologetic. 

It would be comforting, if you weren’t sure that he’s mentally reviewing all the ways he let shit get this bad.

You don’t respond. You can only blink dumbly back at him. He frowns.

“Hey,” he says softly, tapping your cheek. “Say something. You alive, baby?”

The endearment knocks the air out of you, hangs heavy in the back of your head, somewhere beyond the whirring static noise.

He just called me baby. He is not joking. Aki is too tired to ever really joke.

“Uh huh,” you mumble, voice hoarse, as if it’s your job to apologize for the entire preceding event.You haven’t cried more than twice in your adult life, but you know if you open your mouth again, tears will fall out. That’s another thing you can’t tolerate: crying.

Maybe Aki wants you to. Maybe you want you to.

All you can do is hide your face and bite down on the sound trying to rip itself free from your chest. There was a point, hours before, where you would have given anything for the soft, deep velvet of his voice in your ear. Now, his hand at your temple feels like something soft wrapped in barbed wire.

“Nngh,” you gargle, trying to roll away, but your body’s at heavy odds with you. Your arms don’t want to listen. Your legs aren’t attached. You feel like a crash-landed ship.

Aki sighs and hauls you upright. He sits on the edge of the bed with your limp shell in his lap, legs bent at grotesque angles. You try to protest, but your forehead thumps against his collarbone, and it’s the first time in memory you’ve ever felt so fragile.

“Don’t move. Let me take care of it.” His hands are pointed and mean as ever as he wipes your thighs, the sticky mess of lust and shame and need, but there’s a tenderness to it.

“I feel weird,” you mumble, suddenly feeling as if you’re hungover.

“You are weird,” he scoffs. “And you fuck like a coked-up pixie.”

The smile you find for him is a strange, not-quite-human thing. 

“You loved it,” you rasp, just to needle him. “Blew a huge load, didn’t you, Captain?”

If this embarrasses him, he hides it well: only the hard swallow at his throat, the brief flicker of his tongue at a split in his lip. He swipes the cloth between your legs, utilitarian, but with odd care. Enough to make you squirm at the memory of how thoroughly he carved you open.

You expect a reprieve, the post-coital flicker of contempt he’s built up over years of policing his emotions. But he only looks at you, long enough you wonder if you’ve actually died. He cups your chin in two hands and tilts your face up.

He almost looks like he’ll kiss you.

Instead, he looks at the bruises on your body, the shape of sex taking formation in blotted colors. He clears his throat, shame tinting his face.

“Sorry,” he says, and his voice is steady now, softer than even the echo of your own pulse. That gets you: Aki Hayakawa, apologizing to you after years and years of your careless mouth and his mean precision. His thumbs brush the hothouse of your cheekbones. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to—”

“Liar,” you snort, and the effort of it sends a shiver from your shoulders all the way to your toes.

He shakes his head, eyes sharp and silver under the salt-smudge of sweat. “No. I’m not lying. But you’re impossible to handle. I should’ve just tied you up.”

You bat your eyelashes, or you try, but it’s more of a series of uncoordinated blinks. “Next time.”

Aki’s breath hitches, the faintest spark behind the exhausted mask.

“Don’t say shit like that,” he mutters, avoiding your eyes. You think it’s hilarious considering the filth that came out of his mouth earlier. “Makes me think you’re still not you.”

“I was always me,” you scoff.

“No,” he grimaces. “You acted like you were fucking possessed.”

“I was still in there, though.”

His eyes soften, almost, but the steely facade he usually puts on wins over. “Yeah. Guess you were.”

There’s a minute where neither of you say anything, but it’s not the loaded simmer it once would have been. There is no longer rage between you. 

You’re sitting in his lap, both naked, both trembling, and neither of you seem equipped to handle something so frail as aftercare. Still, he wraps his arms around you, brings your chin to his shoulder in a way that means comfort even if it’s never been offered before.

The next morning, you regain consciousness, the world recalibrating itself around the fact that you can barely move. For a moment, you’re convinced you’re still back on that Devil sting mission, trussed up by yakuza as leverage. Then you realize: this is Aki’s bedroom, haloed early sun strobing through the curtains, the smell of his sweat and your own sex clotted thick in the air.

Your body is folded into a knot of blankets — no, not blankets, his jacket, the sharp-wool lining scratching your cheek. You can’t feel your hands. You try to move them, and only then do you see why: Aki has bound your wrists in the sleeves of his own button-up, coiled so snug the pulse at your wrist stutters. 

The little creep, you think. You never expected he’d have such a sense of humor.

He’s beside you, lying on his back, the profile of his face sharp and battered in the predawn light. The inside of his forearm is smudged with marks — yours, probably. For once, he isn’t pretending to be asleep or already up grinding coffee beans at the first hint of morning. He’s there, a real person, shell-shocked and vulnerable. He blinks at you.

“Hey,” you murmur.

He looks over at you, his expression not moving. “Hey.”

“Care to explain why you tied me up?”

“You’re still a liability,” he says flatly

“Right. Because the most recent collection of UNIQLO is going to restrain me.”

He considers this, meets your eyes, and snorts.

“Couldn’t be too careful.” Then, quieter, “You kept trying to touch me. Even in your sleep.”

You try, for his sake, to look abashed, though beneath the thump of your headache, there’s the pulse of something that almost feels like pride.

“In a pervy way?” You raise a brow.

“Not at first. You kept grabbing my wrist.” He holds it up, and you see the angry pink trenches from your nails. “And then you stole my phone and texted Makima at four in the morning.”

“About what?”

“…You told her you loved me. Also said I had a giant cock and made you see god.” The flush at the shell of his ear is the only proof it’s not a total lie.

You close your eyes and let the humiliation wash through you. “So, what did she say?”

Aki scratches the scar near his eyebrow, sheepish. “She said to keep you hydrated, and recommended two paracetamol every six hours.”

You let out a genuine laugh this time. His lips quiver at the effort of holding back a smile. You make a child’s show of straining against the makeshift bonds. The effort spikes needles up both your arms, but that only makes the reward — Aki’s hand touching your forehead, the gentle brush of his thumb at your eyelid — feel like a contact high.

“Still you in there?” he asks, barely voiced.

“Still me.”

There’s a charge in the air as you lie there tangled in the aftershock, blankets twisting the two of you together in a makeshift shroud. You count out breaths, running a tally of damage: thighs burning, wrists tender, lips bruised. When you move, Aki’s arm slides over your midsection, pulling you closer with proprietary gentleness. You never knew such a thing existed between the two of you. The heat in his palm spreads under your ribs, far softer than his cut-glass voice has ever allowed.

“For the record,” he says, slowly. “I’m glad I was your victim and not someone else.”

You want to say something pithy, call him a simp, a weak-ass bitch, but nothing makes it past the tickle in your throat and the way your cheek is pressed to the back of his hand. It’s so easy to close your eyes and float, just for a second. Even the pressure at your wrists doesn’t bother you. If anything, it’s the only thing binding you to the world.

“For the record, you’re better than my last three victims combined.”

He snorts, half laughter, half bitter disbelief, and for a second the space between your bodies is a live wire.

“Sorry I made you do that,” you say, eyes tight against the morning glare.

“You didn’t make me do anything.”

“You sure?” you laugh, just a puff of breath between your teeth. “I could try harder next time.”

He lets the suggestion hang. You wonder if you mean it as a threat or a promise. He shifts his weight, rolling so that your wrists are pressed to his ribcage, snug, and leaves a palm splayed on your lower back. The weight of it keeps you from drifting off.

You try to catalog the feeling in your chest — a spasm eating up all the leftover shame. It feels like biting into a perfect, stolen persimmon. Terrible, too-sweet, impossible to stop. It’s not romance, exactly. No one would call it that. But it’s… something.

“We both have the day off, by the way,” he murmurs.

“You’re saying I can do whatever I want today?” you ask, tilting your chin in a challenge.

“Absolutely not,” he snorts.

“You’re basically asking for it.”

“You’re not going to seduce me this time,” he replies, his voice almost wary.

“So you’ll just make coffee and pretend you don’t want to rail me into unconsciousness,” you suggest, with what you hope is a steady voice.

He sighs. You catch, in the brief twist of his lips, that he’s considering the offer on its full spectrum.

You muster the strength for another wild strike: “Maybe I do want to seduce you. Did that ever occur to you, Aki?” 

You hope the invective lands like a brick, but instead he just looks at you long and hard. There’s an unspeakable flash of interest and amusement, a flicker of weird kinship that makes your insides squirm.

“Later,” Aki promises, surprising you. “First, you need food and three liters of water.”

Instead of hauling you out of bed, however, he keeps you corralled against his chest in the starchy tangle of sheets and ruined uniforms, warm and lazy. You can sense his heartbeat in the wall of muscle pinning you, each pulse steady as a clock, as if his body requires you to re-time yourself to its cadence.

Aki’s thumb, as if by accident, strokes the hollow at your chin. He's not big on physical comfort — prefers to bark orders and slam doors and keep the world at a safe radius, but in the bleached honesty of morning, he can't resist the compulsion to check that you're real. That you're not just a fever dream or a devil hallucination. You realize he’s watching your eyes for signs of relapse; there's a tension in his brow that shows he’s still being cautious.

You swallow thickly. “It’s still me.”

He stares at you another second, reluctant to yield. Then nods, once, and releases your hands from the neat knot of his sleeves. 

You press your ear against the metronome of his pulse, close your eyes, memorize the way the shape of your face fits against the hollow beneath his collarbone. Somewhere below the blanket, his knee presses against your thigh, bracing you in place. In that weird, bitter-light morning, you think he could die like this, both of you wound up together like blown fuses. Perhaps it would be an okay way to end.

[bunnis-fanfics]

Angel devil holding your puffy pussy lips open with gloved fingers so he can cum directly into your cute hole <3

Watching his cum dribble down your thighs, seeing the way your hole clenches around nothing, begging for his cock…

You’re so desperate to have your lover inside of you, he finds it very cute.

And tempting.

[izukuspuppy]

i wish i knew how to write for wlw smut because im craving power from csm right now

[crybaby-cinna]

a/n: need this big beefy man to suffocate me (word daddy used a couple times)

kiri finds you curled up in bed, under the blankets and clinging onto his pillow. you poke your head out and whine softly and he immediately starts pulling off his hero gear. he goes to grab sweats and you whine again, flipping the blankets off of you and reaching out to him.

“shh, i’m here baby. i’m here.” he walks over to you and crawls in bed.

he pulls you into his lap, brushing back you hair and looking over your face. he watches you slowly blink at him, the way your lip trembles and the way you’re slowly pulling him closer by his shoulders. he wraps his arms around you, squeezing you tight as you burrow into his neck, his hair ticking your cheek.

“what’s wrong, sweet girl?” he rubs your back.

“i.. dunno.” you shake your head.

he feels your hot tears drip onto his skin. “it’s okay.” he brings a hand up to the back of your head. “i’m here baby.” he slowly rocks you in his arms.

“i want..” a whine and a roll of your hips. “just wanna feel you.”

“okay okay, i got you.” he whispers.

his hand on your head slides down to wrap around your waist and lift you off his lap a little bit. his other hand slips between your thighs, fingers dragging up and down your panties, cooing in your ear as he slowly starts to feel them dampen. you’re softly hiccuping and gasping into his neck, legs shaking as he slowly peels your panties to the side.

the first drag of his fingers through your honey pulls a whimper from your mouth. “daddy.” your cheeks burn and you press closer to him.

his arm tightens around your waist. “daddy’s got you, baby. you know i need to stretch you out.” he hums softly and slips a finger inside.

“mmm!”

he slowly fucks his finger into you, sliding a second one in while you moan into his neck with your fingers digging into his hair. his thumbs hooks up and rubs at your clit until you’re falling apart in his arms whining so pretty for him.

“lemme see you, pretty girl.” he slides his fingers out, rubbing them up and down your folds as you tremble.

you open your mouth just as he pushes his tip in, a moan falling out instead of words. he sinks you down on him, watching your eyes flutter as you suck him in. you try to lift up on shaky legs but he stops you and holds you against his chest. he rocks himself up, splitting you open, each drag out steals your breath.

“starting to feel better?” he rubs your back.

“mmmngh!” your mind slowly turning to mush at the way he fills you.

“yeah?” he coos. “just let every thought leave this pretty little head.” he starts to move his hips faster. “daddy’s gonna take care of you.” he groans softly at the way you squeeze around him.

he’s focusing on the way you react to every word, every movement, making sure you’re feeling the most pleasure possible. he’s kissing the side of your head, wrapping his other arm around you and slowly pulling you out of the crook of his neck.

“there she is.” he smiles. you’re looking down at him with glassy eyes, tear stained cheeks and scrunched brows as he fucks up into you. “you gonna cum for me?” he searches your eyes.

“mhmm.” you’re trembling.

“you can let go, angel. not going anywhere.”

you collapse against his chest, orgasm washing through every never in your body as he fucks you through it before filling you with ropes of cum until you’re leaking all over his lap.

“let’s lay back down and go to bed, hm?” he rubs your back and slowly slides the both of you down until your laying against his chest. “feeling a little better?”

“love you so much, eiji.” you cuddle into his warmth.

“i love you too.” he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

[deepsummitfate]

like i’m so big into dirty talk it’s just like mmnffgg katsuki and izuku as dirty talkers YES!! buyuuttt..

izu being the type of teasing dirty talker where you’ll be fucking yourself back on his cock, your tummy so so tight with the need to cum and he leans down and whispers. “no hun, you can’t cum.. you need to show me what a good good girl you are for me. let me fuck you a little bit longer like how you’ve been begging for it, so desperate..”

oh and then we have katsuki but i think we alll know… his pace is rough and hard, you’re sobbing out on the sheets below while he’s grunting out. “you like that? fuckin’ slut just creaming allllll over my dick, yea? fuckin’— like it when i’m pounding deep into this messy pussy? yeeaah you do, fuck.”

i need both of them in me… NOW. also good morning 🤞🥹

[sweethearticism]

♡ 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐃𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓... to catching you humping your pillow?

THEY'RE AMUSED ♡ walking in on their sweetheart so needy cause they're not around? shiiittt. they can't help but prop themselves against the doorway, fold their arms and watch your slippery lil' cunt stain the pillow with your desperation. their eyes deep with lustful humour. had you even seen them yet? or were you too busy picturing yourself grinding on their thigh? their presence is announced with a low, rough whistle that jolts you upright and has you scrambling in embarrassment. all while their brow's arched, head tilted, crooning in that dark, silk sin: “welcome home to me, I guess.” sure felt like a homecoming when they pinned you down and spread you open on their cock.

SATORU · suguru · kashimo

THEY'RE HELPFUL ♡ they're almost pouting the second they register it. your sweet slick soaking the pillow case, your needy little whimpers, tits perked against their shirt that hangs off of your shoulders. poor thing, had they left you all needy? it's a sin they'll have to atone for by coming up behind you, snatching your thighs, and pressing hot kisses up your shivering neck. you'll jump in surprise— but they squeeze you against them. “my sweet baby... so desperate?” a kiss pressed to your ear as they roll your hips down, guiding your clit to grind just right. squishing your thighs on the pillow to provide you the perfect pressure. “let me help... make it up to my favourite girl for leaving her pussy so needy, hmm?”

YUTA · SATOSHI · nanami · higuruma · ijichi · choso

THEY'RE GREEDY ♡ what? you thought they'd just be satisfied walking in on you grinding your messy cunt on a pillow? course not. they make their presence known with a hum. casual as they lean against the wall, hands shoved in their pockets. “what?” their brow arches, gaze dragging in dark appreciation down your quivering body. when they meet your eyes again, there's a deep, raw current: effortless dominance. “don't stop now, baby. show's all yours, have at it.” a lazy grin tugs to their lips as you listen, as you always did, rocking your hips into the pillow, maintaining eye contact because you knew it's what they loved. “thereee you go. feels good to be a needy slut for me, doesn't it?”

SUKUNA · satoru · toji · yuta · satoshi

THEY'RE SADISTIC ♡ because, how dare you? fluff up your pillow, pull those sticky panties off, and decide to grind that cute cunt on a useless piece of fabric instead of asking them for help? “am I a joke to you?” that's how they make their presence known, and before you can go on your spiel of being embarrassed and stammering, they're grabbing you by the jaw. kissing you hard, senseless, breathless. and then abruptly shoving your face into the pillow. cradling the back of your neck as they stroke a thumb along your pulse. “go on.” you feel their voice on your ear. they're loomed over you, dripping with rough amusement. “lick that pillow clean for me, since you prefer it instead of asking me for help.”

SUGURU · sukuna · kashimo

© 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒔𝒎. no plagiarism or ai training authorised. animated line divider: @chrisssiren . pink heart divider is mine do not use or edit.

[deepsummitfate]

sex ban — k.b + e.k an: let me imagine here for a second

bouncing on a dildo while being watched by eijiro and katsuki.

your pussy squealing around the silicone that's suctioned to the floor as both of the men stroke their leaky cocks harshly. you put them on a sex ban after they both went off on a dangerous villain while on patrol without warning, after they promised to you that they'd be more careful.

your head is thrown back, your tits bouncing mesmerizingly with your movements. leaving both men whining and leaking all over their fists. "f-fuck, come on beautiful. don't do this to kats and i.." eijiro pleads out, his voice coming out harsh. his thumb rubs against his pretty tip that's leaking so so much pre. he always leaks so much compared to katsuki.

"stop bein' a b-brat, n' let us fuck you." katsuki groans out, his pace not slowing on his cock. his knuckles are white from how hard he's trying to replicate the feeling of you squeezing around him.

you run your hand down to circle your clit, you let out a soft moan that has both the mens eyes rolling to the back of their head. "n-no, you both were bad. broke the promise." you cry out, your pace moving quicker on the toy. your hips angled to find that sweet spot inside your pussy that you know both men know the placement by heart.

you look back and forth between the both of them, your eyes dazed out as you feel a heat coil up in your tummy. "'m gonna c-come.." you sigh softly, your hand rubbing faster on your clit as you buck your hips on the toy.

both of the men whine out, their cocks leaking. eijiro's stare is harsh while katsuki is trying to register that it's not him you're going to be coming around. their eyes track your movement like a hunter watching it's prey.

"I- fuck! coming!!" you cry out, tossing your head back. you don't stop circling your clit, your hips buck involuntary on the dildo. both men groan out at the sight, their own hips bucking into their fists. letting out the last bit of strokes they needed as the see you bounce on the now creamy dildo.

katsuki comes first. hard and loud. he throws his head back, his hips bucking up, up, uppp into his fists as he spills all over his lap and abs. his breathing is ragged, he strokes a few more times to milk the come out of himself with a sharp groan.

eijiro follows quickly after with a load moan of your name, he spurts rope after rope of come all over himself. his come is thicker and creamier then katsukis. it pools on his lap, his eyes never leaving the sight of you sitting innocently on the dildo.

you watch the both of them loose theirselves with a smile. you watch them both calm down and look at you, katsuki looks at you with a teasing smirk while eijiro looks at your with pleading eyes.

before you could start moving again, katsuki stops you. "don't think you're gonna come on that little shit toy again. you know were so much better." eijiro follows quickly after, "were both so much bigger too, don't think you can get away with that much longer."

safe to say, that sex ban didn't last long.

an: your honour pls let me whore out some more banners by @/uzmacchiato

[deepsummitfate]

beefy shoto headcannons !!!

an: still look back to this photo... mmfgghh look at sho (sorry this is not the og.. I didn't save it I'm sorry :(( )

beefy shoto! who always, always takes seconds (even thirds) of whatever you cook him! now not having his dad restrict his diet anymore, he is able to eat freely and boy does he do so. he wants to make sure that you know he loves your cooking. he'll leave little kisses down your neck afterwards and praise you for how nice and good dinner was. it always makes him so happy, and he's so glad to see the smile on your face after his praise.

beefy shoto! who wakes you up with being almost piled on top of you; almost like your own personal weighted blanket! so warm (from his quirk), your face is pressed in between his now bulkier bicep while he kisses your neck and mutters under his breath sweet good mornings and how he's excited to spend the day with you.

beefy shoto! who picks you up after a night out and tosses you over his shoulder, landing a nice smack! on your ass. his large hand runs up your thigh to tease your now wet panties with his thick middle finger. he grumbles softly about how much of a tease you were the whole night with your slutty little dress (except he was the tease. his button down shirt was straining against the thick muscle of his chest, and don't even get me started on it around his bicep).

beefy shoto! who walks around the house shirtless like a little asshole because he loves to see the way your eyes dilate when they land on his thick stomach. his abs still there; but paired with thick muscle overtop of it + his happy trail of duel colours. it drives you insane!!!

adding on, beefy shoto! who knows that you'll get down on your knees, run your hands down the soft plush of his tummy to land at the waist band of his boxers or sweats, or whatever he's wearing, to pull them down so his nice thick, chubby cock can come to life. you put it in your mouth — gagging on the size as his flushed tip hits the back of your throat — and give him the best, eye watering head of all time!

beefy shoto! who looks at his cock weirdly, then looks back at you and asks "it looks.. fuller?" poor baby is worried that something is happening to his cock, while your mouth is drooling at the sight. it's gotten so much thicker as well! he holds it in his hand because the moment he lets go; it's going to droop from it's own weight because of how heavy it is now. poor guy thinks there's something wrong with his dick because it gained girth and doesn't smack his belly button anymore when he pulls down his boxers; while you just wanna get down on your knees, suck it, and praise it, and make him feel so so good :'''')

beefy shoto! who is now become the number one munch of the year the way he will eat you out at any given moment! in the steam of the shower; yes! in bed to wake you up on lazy mornings; well duh?! when you're baking or cooking something good for him in the kitchen; well he has to repay the favour somehow! he always get's so pussy drunk as you thread your hands through his duel colour hair, his pretty heterochromic eyes so fucked out while he laps and sucks alllll the juices you provide for him. his nice thick fingers come and finger fuck your pussy while he sucks on your clit! sometimes he gets too into watching his fingers move in and out of your sopping pussy. he loves to watch the ring of cream form around his fingers, he'll pull them out and suck them right in front of you to clean them off. what a dirty guy!!

+ one more bc these are my personal fav pov. beefy shoto! who's sad to see his favourite shirts get too small. you watch from across the room with an absolutely shit eating grin as you see the way his muscles strain against the fabric; how the shirt rides up to give you a beautiful view of that happy trail and little pudge of his tummy that you wanna stuff your face in. he looks at you with sad eyes, but you remind him that growing and changing is apart of life and that you both can always find new shirts (his old ones that don't fit are your new ones btw). which it makes him smile. to which it's how you end up folded in half with his chubby cock being thrusted sooo deeply right into your little pussy :( have fun walking tomorrow!

an: going BACK to my roots. I missed my big guy :''( so here he is! banners by @/uzmacchiato !

[sarcayas-basement]

Aki Hayakawa x fem!reader x Kishibe - Lessons at teaching (18+)

As much as I usually don't like the 'older guy teaching the younger one' scenario, Kishibe would so do this... Reader is a fiend that also lives with Aki

TWs/CWs: Dub-con-y, Bondage & Punishment, Kishibe should be his own warning bc this man is shameless and na~stay •Masterlist• •Chainsaw Man masterlist•

"Ugh, Power! You give that back!" you yell and immediately pick up speed form your previous walking to run after the fiend who stole your snack Aki bought you at the corner store for helping him out with a mission.

"No! This delicious morsel shall belong to me for it was my presence that has lured out that puny devil!" Power jumps up at a nearest fence to get away from you and knocks some flowerpots off it in the process.

"No you don't!" keeping up with your pursuit, you allow your hunter instincts take over to stay hot on her trail, also knocking some things over as you follow after her.

"Both of you, get down! You're destroying shit!" Aki groans like a tired mother of three after blowing out the cigarette smoke from his lungs.

"Yeah, Power! Get down, you're destroying shit!" you echo Aki's words as you're getting ready to pounce at Power, who has stopped to unwrap your well-earned snack. As you carefully calculate your attack, the only thing in your mind is tasting your reward, not really considering the consequences that come with it.

Aki can already tell what is going to happen as he's seen you and Power fight many times like this before. You always give her - or any other prey of yours - the same look before striking.

And not even a second later you take a big leap to close the distance between you and the fiend, making both of you collide and tumble off of the brick fence while taking a lamp post with you and completely breaking a bench into scrap pieces of wooden planks.

The two of you land right in front of the young devil hunter, who simply looks down on you with an unreadable expression while exhaling another lungful of smoke. Only now you realise just what kind of mess your are in this time.

Already, you're expecting Aki to start yelling or scolding you both, but that doesn't happen. He simply just looks away from you and continues walking - or at least he would if Denji didn't come charging from around the corner, "Hey, Power! Makima apparently has a mission for us and we gotta go there right now."

"Ah cool! I was just missing some good action! And if I complete it I can demand another reward!" Power as if completely forgets about the whole event that just took place and simply gets up, not looking back at you, still laying on the pavement, half-hugging a lamp post and surrounded by scrap wood.

Shaking off the paralysis from the fall you just took, you start slowly picking yourself up, thinking what to do next to make up for your damages. Deciding to ask Aki for help, you look at the spot he was last, you come to find out that he's simply continuing to walk away.

"H-hey, where are you going? You yourself said I gotta-" you catch up to him.

"I'm going home." he gives you a cold look, still continuing to smoke his cigarette, looking away from you, he continues: "And you will too if you know what's good for you."

Ouch. You can practically feel his bubbling anger seep through every exhale he lets out. Aki is never safe to be around when he's angry and especially not when he's angry at you.

You two walk in a heavy silence for a few blocks until you can't take it anymore, "Aki, you saw I didn't start -"

"Shut the fuck up. I don't care."

His words only make the further silence even more suffocating. By the time you reach the door to his apartment, your heart is racing from anxiety.

Aki silently opens the door and walks through it to make you close it behind you. This alone shows you how mad he is, since he insists on closing all the doors after you because in his opinion you still don't know your strength which his neighbors don't always appreciate.

Without a word, the young devil hunter takes off his jacket and sets it on the kitchen counter, bracing himself on it. You open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off, "What did I tell you? I told you to stop running around like that and what happened? If you just stayed put, I would buy you another, but you had to chase her.... What do I gotta do to make you listen?"

"Wh-... A-Aki, I'm sorry..."

"Are you now? Just like all those other times before?" Aki looks at you, not hiding his emotions anymore and as he starts listing out all the other times you and one of your roommates went a bit overboard, he slowly starts walking towards you until he has you pinned against the entrance wall.

He's so close, the only thing you can smell is the cigarette he's smoked on the way. His hands are on either side of you, preventing you from running - not that you would even have any chance against his fast reflexes.

"I told you time and time again that if you're good, I will take care of you... How else do I gotta say it to get it through to you?" he takes your chin into his hand and tilts it slightly upwards to force you to look at him. The sudden direct eye-contact makes feel shy and with a murmur of his name you try to look away as much as possible.

"Hm? Am I not doing enough, then?" Aki prompts you, trying to move his head back into your vision so you can't escape him until the matter is resolved.

Suddenly, the movement of the entrance door in corner of his vision freezes him in place. Both of you actually.

"Yeah, you're clearly not doing enough." a dark, tired voice answers his question instead of you.

It's Kishibe. One of the senior devil hunters that you've seen Makima talk to a few times while waiting to be briefed for a new mission. You pity the devils that have to face him... And maybe even feel envious of the women he gets to spend a drunken nights with.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Aki spits, almost as if he's embarrassed he got caught in such an intimate-looking position with his co-worker.

"Looks like you don't know how to keep your... Pets... In check so I'm here to teach you how to do it." Kishibe's eyes land on you at the derogating name, as if he only then acknowledges your presence. He's now standing in front of you too, opposing Aki and you can't help but feel like a trapped prey while two predators fight over it.

"Respectfully, fuck off! I don't need your help." you've never seen Aki respond to a superior like that and especially to Kishibe of all of them, but for some reason that new fearless edge of him has your pussy becoming more receptive.

"Mhm... And that's why there's been a report about a destruction of public property by two of your entrusted assets." Kishibe doesn't raise his voice, which unnerves you about him even further.

Aki rolls his eyes and cuts away his sight from Kishibe to rather look at you. With a resigned sigh he gives you an expression that reads as 'Whatever happens to you next, you brought upon yourself'.

Kishibe only chuckles and takes out his metal flask to take a few swings of it. "M'kay... Bedroom then."

Now this puzzles you. Why bedroom? What exactly is he planning to have Aki do to you? Is there actually some sort of agreed-upon procedure for situations like these that you don't know about?

The younger devil hunter nods once and firmly grasps your wrist, pulling you after him into his bedroom with the older one following closely after you.

"Get her naked and tie her to the headboard." he continues with a command and turns Aki's desk chair around so he can have a good view of the bed. Only now he sheds his coat and drapes it over the chair's backrest.

"Aki!" you squeak out as the younger male starts undoing your shirt buttons.

"Don't 'Aki' me. You fuck around and find out. My warnings weren't enough for you so take it like a good girl." he disregards any of your complaints and helps you take off the rest of your clothes.

Once you're only covered by two flimsy pieces of your underwear, Aki follows through the rest of his order and pulls you to lay flat on his bed, securing your wrists to the headboard with his black tie.

Your eyes search for the old man and find him sitting in the chair, legs wide spread and his eyes intently on you.

"Just so you know, the next time you give him a hard time, I'll be the one to discipline you and I'm not known to be a merciful master." the cadence in his voice is as flat as usual, but his words carry much more than a promise or a threat.

"Yeah, that won't be needed. Like I said: I can take care of her myself." Aki still tries to stand up for himself, but the older devil hunter only laughs at him.

The only thing you can do is watch the two men bicker as you yourself have no way of getting out of this situation that could lead anywhere. And on top of that, Power has once again gotten off scot-free as always.

"So what's next?" Aki barks at Kishibe, clearly impatient to get done with this thing and get the senior hunter out of his apartment. Or so you hope.

"Take off your belt and flip her over. Make her count each one and if she fucks up, make her start over." Kishibe shrugs and takes out a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket, lighting up one of them. The way he savors the death-flavored air and proceeds to exhale it for some reason goes straight to your pussy.

"Right..." Aki trails off, almost as if he's just as embarrassed to be in this situation as you. Still, follows through and scoops his hand under you, flipping you over on your stomach. Even though you can't see Kishibe anymore, you can feel his intense stare on your exposed ass, making you feel shy, but also, strangely, excited.

The sound of Aki's belt buckle coming undone has never sounded threatening as only now you brain connects all the aspects of your situation together. The belt, the counting,... Oh boy.

It's quiet for a moment until the younger male's hand plants itself on your thigh so you don't squirm away from him, soon followed by the feeling of leather stripe being dragged over your bare skin.

"Like he said, then... You fuck up, you start over." as much as Aki still sounds mad, you could swear you hear an edge of his own arousal.

You don't even get to take a breath to brace yourself for what's to come and the belt in Aki's hand comes down with a piercing thwap.

"O-one..." you breathe out, slightly surprised at how light the strike was.

Another thwap.

"Two...!" the next one is worse as the leather meets the same spot.

Aki then continues landing more hits on your ass, sometimes alternating between each one of your cheeks, and you keep counting despite the now burning pain from the repeated strikes without a single break.

"Tw-twenty... F-five..." you stammer out, trying to stop the tears in your eyes from spilling.

"Hm, what was that?"

"Twenty five!" you squeal out, slightly annoyed at the subtle threat since you've clearly counted out clear enough for him to understand.

"Mhm... Good..." Aki nods and much to your relief, finally sets the belt down by his side while his other hand gently runs over your sore skin.

"Hah... Giving up already?" Kishibe mocks his subordinate with a slight grunt, hinting to you that he's most likely palming himself through his pants at your suffering.

"She has work tomorrow." Aki states bluntly, shifting in his kneeling position next to you.

"Yeah, and what better reminder to be obedient than the consequences of what happens when she's not?" the older male snorts.

"She will be good from now." Aki firmly spits in his direction, clearly not happy to be constantly challenged by his superior.

There's something so humiliating and yet arousing about the situation and two devil hunters talking about you like you're not even in the room.

As the pain slowly subsides into a dull ache, you can't help but squirm from how uncomfortable it feels. Aki notices this and reaches over to undo the binds on your wrists.

"What? We're done here..." the younger male sighs irritated, noticing the raised brow Kishibe gives him. He's now much more gentle, helping you roll back over and rest against the headboard.

"Are we?" Kishibe is still unmoving, "Looks to me like you still have something to do..." he motions to Aki's lap where, only now you notice the straining boner. So he's been enjoying this too, just like Kishibe.

"I can take care of myself on my own, thanks..."

"Hah, yeah... But since you believe she's gonna be so good from now on, why not give her a taste of the rewards good girls get?"

Kishibe's argument clearly takes Aki aback. His eyes widen and then quickly fly to you. It's not that he hasn't thought about you like that, but is this really the time to advance on you like that, especially with his superior in the room watching it happen?

"Aki~! I'm really sorry... Please... Make the pain go away..." you whine out, more aware of the dull ache in your backside than the words exchanged, you slump against his chest.

"Y/N..." hes gasps out, now feeling slightly guilty. Do you even know what you're asking for?

"Looks like the lady agrees... So..?" Kishibe leans back in his seat, his hands travelling to the zipper of his pants, awaiting any further indication on whether he should continue further.

"Y/N... Do you really want this?" Aki softly cups your face so you focus on him and not the older devil hunter.

"A-aki~... Please... Need you...!" you nuzzle into his hand, overwhelmed with all the different feelings inside you. One thing you know for sure, however: you wanted this for a while. For almost as long as him, unknowingly.

Aki nods and slowly pushes you off of him and turns to you fully. Not really the moment he envisioned for something like this, but fuck it. He leans down to you and kisses you, slightly awkwardly given by the uncomfortable audience you two have.

You hands almost instantly fly up to his chest and grab onto his white shirt. The kiss you share is nothing short of breathtaking, releasing the feelings you've both had for each other.

"Get on all fours for me, okay?" he whispers to you after pulling back a bit, so only you can hear him clearly.

With a nod, you follow his request, thankful that you don't have to put any weight on your sore ass. Facing Kishibe, you also feel less exposed, only presenting your most intimate area to Aki, who is kneeling behind you and quickly working on freeing himself.

As the younger male tries to soothe your pain further by massaging your flesh and teasing your folds through your panties, you can witness with your own eyes how Kishibe pulls his leaking length out of his pants and, holy hell, he's so huge. You doubt you'd be ever able to take him in and in turn admire any woman or man who can.

Aki gently gasps after moving the fabric of your panties to the side only to find you practically dripping due to your previous punishment, as much as you seemed to not enjoy it.

His blunt head slides into you with almost no resistance, almost as if your walls were already made for him.

"Ha~ah!" the young devil hunter heavily exhales as he fully bottoms out. He doesn't stay like that for long, though, as he's almost immediately pulling out again only to slam back into you faster and faster until he's pounding into your heat like possessed.

As much as he hates to admit it to himself, it's been way too long since he was with anyone and that was only a drunken night mistake, whose name he doesn't even remember anymore, if he ever did.

Each slap of your skin meeting brings up sparks of the pain of your punishment in a surprisingly pleasurable way, making you clench around Aki's dick maybe a bit too much as evident by the groans leaving his lips every time you do so.

"Mh... Eyes on me, Y/N..." Kishibe growls lowly, fisting his cock in tandem with the speed of Aki's hips. This is also the first time he's used your name this whole time and, god, how good does it sound coming from him like that.

The next following moments are then filled with only heavy breathing, the sound of your and Aki's skin slapping against each other and the squelching coming out of your dripping pussy, until one by one you all start nearing your peaks.

You're the first one to give any indication of getting close by having your moans grow louder and more high-pitched. Your jaw slowly resorting to just hanging open as the sounds are drawn out of you by Aki's speeding up thrusts.

Kishibe takes your state as opportunity to walk towards you and pull your head up by your hair, "Are you gonna be a good girl from now on, then?"

And when you attempt to nod, he plunges his thick member down your throat. Holding your face in place, he begins to fuck your face without abandon, only focused on cumming down your throat.

His rough abuse of your mouth makes your arousal boil over and result in the most intense orgasm you've ever experienced. Your walls clamping around Aki's cock, toes curling and vision filled with stars.

The young devil hunter is the next to finish due to your walls milking him for all he's got. With a loud whine he almost topples on top of you as he spills inside you.

Kishibe watches the two of you ride out your peaks as he still works on his fastly-approaching one. Only a few more rough thrusts into your sore mouth and he's beginning to loose himself.

As he finally spurts his big load of salty cum down your throat, his hold on your head only strengthens. Pulling out, he makes point to slap your face with his softening dick before fully letting go of you.

"I'm going then... I trust that she's gonna be good from now on, like you said, but if not..." Kishibe matter-o-factly tucks himself back into his pants, giving both of you a nasty, warning look that only promises worse punishments than the one you've received today. Without another words or a glance he throws on his coat and exits the apartment, leaving you and Aki figure out where to go from in terms of your relationship after what just happened.

[maeveybelle]

Puppy

༉‧₊˚. summary: a misbehaved puppy!reader means soft dom!izuku's gotta teach her a lesson

༉‧₊˚. warning/s: puppy girl!reader, soft dom!izuku, sub/dom dynamic, p in v sex, vaginal sex, cunnilingus, overstimulation, edging, use of pet names (puppy, good girl, honey, etc), fingering, teasing, baby wink of bully!izu

༉‧₊˚. w/c: 3.6k~

The lamp on the nightstand threw soft golden light across the bed. You’d spent the whole evening pushing Izuku’s buttons—little brushes of your hand, that sweet “Deku” tone you knew got under his skin, the way you’d looked at him like you were innocent. Now payback had you flat on your back, thighs spread wide, heart hammering.

Izuku knelt between your legs, cock heavy and flushed as he dragged the tip through your soaked folds. His curls stuck to his forehead, green eyes soft but sharp with that teasing edge.

“Been such a needy puppy all night,” he murmured, pressing just the head inside you. “Now you’re gonna take what you asked for. Yeah?”

You nodded fast, breath already shaky. “Y-yeah… please, Izuku.”

He smiled, slow and knowing, and sank in deeper. The stretch made your mouth drop open. He was thick—always had been—but after two orgasms from his tongue and fingers you were stupidly sensitive. A choked whimper slipped out.

“I know that dick is big, hon,” he coaxed, voice low and warm as he eased in another inch. One hand stroked your hip, thumb rubbing circles. “But look at you. Taking it so well already. Such a good puppy.”

Your walls fluttered around him. “F-fuck— Izuku—”

“Shh. Easy, sweet girl.” He bottomed out with a quiet groan, hips flush against yours. For a second he just stayed there, letting you adjust, forehead pressed to yours. “Feel that? Allllll the way in, pup. Good girl.”

He started moving—slow, rolling thrusts that dragged against every oversensitive spot. Your legs twitched. You tried to close them on instinct but he hooked his elbows under your knees and spread you wider.

“Nuh-uh, Y/N. No hiding.” His smile stayed soft even as he picked up the pace, hips snapping a little harder. “You asked for this, remember? Teasing me all evening like a bratty little pup.”

You squirmed, hands fisting the sheets. “I-It’s too much— ah— already—”

“Already?” He chuckled, low and teasing. “We’re just getting started, puppy.” He pinned your wrists above your head with one hand, the other pressing flat on your lower stomach, holding you down while he drove in deeper. “Stay right here for me. Good girl.”

Tears pricked your eyes fast. The overstimulation hit like sparks under your skin. Every thrust made you jolt, little sobs mixing with moans.

Izuku noticed immediately. His eyes softened but the smile didn’t fade. “Aw, Y/N. Already tearing up?” He leaned down and kissed the corner of your eye, tasting salt. “So fucking cute like this. My sensitive puppy.”

He shifted angles and hit that spot dead-on. Your back arched hard, a broken cry tearing from your throat. You tried to twist away from the intensity but his weight kept you pinned, cock sliding in and out with wet, filthy sounds.

“Izuku— p-please— I c-can’t—”

“You can, honey. C’mon. Two more for me.” His voice stayed gentle, almost sweet, even while he fucked you harder. “Taking it so well. Look how nicely you’re squeezing me.”

Your head thrashed against the pillow. “T-too much— s’too big— Izuku—!”

“I know, baby. I know it’s so big,” he murmured, still smiling as he watched fresh tears slip down your cheeks. “But you’re doing so good. Such a good girl for me. Just breathe. Atta girl--”

He released your wrists only to grab your hips with both hands, pulling you back onto his cock with every thrust. You sobbed, legs shaking violently around him. The pleasure burned—sharp, overwhelming, perfect.

Another orgasm crashed over you without warning. You clenched hard, crying out his name as your body seized. Izuku groaned but didn’t slow down, fucking you through it with steady, deep strokes.

“That’s one, puppy. Good girl. Give me another.”

You whimpered pathetically, trying to crawl up the bed. “C-can’t— Izuku— s’too much— please—”

He followed instantly, draping his body over yours and pinning you down with his chest. His cock never left you. “Nuh-uh, honey. No tapping out now. You asked for this, puppy. Remember how you were rubbing up against me earlier? This is what you wanted.”

He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, folding you practically in half. The new angle made him feel even bigger. You let out a stuttering sob, nails digging into his back.

“Izuku— f-fuck— I can’t— ah—”

“Yes you can, Y/N.” He kissed your tear-streaked cheek, still smiling softly while he pounded into you. “C’mon. Two more, pup. Taking it so well even when you’re this sensitive.”

The second orgasm hit harder. Your vision blurred, thighs quaking as you came again, walls pulsing wildly around his thick cock. Izuku hissed through his teeth but kept moving, dragging it out until you were a whimpering, twitching mess beneath him.

He finally slowed, still buried deep, and brushed damp hair from your forehead. “There we go. Such a good puppy. You’re shaking so much, baby. Adorable.”

You sniffled, voice hoarse. “I-Izuku… c-can’t do more— s’too sensitive—”

He kissed you slow and deep, swallowing your little whimpers. When he pulled back, that teasing glint was back in his eyes. “One more, babygirl. Just one. You can do it. I know you can.”

He flipped you onto your stomach without pulling out, pressing your chest down into the mattress and yanking your hips up. “Ass up, puppy. That’s it. Good girl.”

The new position made everything deeper. He started thrusting again—long, deliberate strokes that made your toes curl. You buried your face in the pillow, sobbing and moaning.

“Izuku— p-please— its too full—”

“I know, doll. You’re so full of my cock, huh?” He reached under you and circled your swollen clit with two fingers. “But you’re taking it so well. My perfect little puppy.”

You squirmed hard, trying to escape the overwhelming sensations, but he held your hips in an iron grip, fucking you steadily. Tears soaked the pillow. Your legs wouldn’t stop shaking.

“C’mon, Y/N. One more. You’re doing so good. Such a good puppy for me.”

The final orgasm tore through you like fire. You cried out, voice cracking as your whole body locked up, clenching around him so tight it dragged a low groan from his throat.

“Fuck— that’s it, good girl. So good.”

Izuku followed right after, burying himself deep and spilling inside you with a quiet, wrecked moan. His hips jerked through the aftershocks, arms wrapped tight around your waist to keep you from collapsing.

For a long minute the only sounds were your ragged breathing and his soft murmurs.

He eased out carefully, pulling a broken whimper from you at the loss. Then he turned you gently onto your back and gathered you against his chest, stroking your hair.

“You okay, babydoll?” he asked, voice soft now. His fingers traced soothing lines down your spine.

You nodded weakly, still sniffling. “Y-yeah… just… a lot.”

He chuckled quietly and kissed the top of your head. “You were incredible. Such a good puppy the whole time.” He reached for the water on the nightstand and helped you sip it, then cleaned you both with a warm cloth, every touch careful and loving.

You curled into him, exhausted but warm. “You’re mean,” you mumbled against his neck, voice hoarse and stuttering a little.

Izuku smiled, pressing another kiss to your temple. “Only ‘cause you like it, puppy.” His hand kept stroking your hair. “My sweet, needy girl.”

You shivered at the pet name, too tired to argue. He kept whispering it—soft praises mixed with “puppy” every few seconds—until your eyes drifted shut, safe in his arms.

Morning light filtered through the curtains. You woke sore, limbs heavy, tucked against Izuku’s chest. He was already awake, fingers tracing lazy patterns on your hip.

“Morning, Y/N/N,” he said, voice still raspy from sleep. He tilted your chin up and kissed you slow. “How’s my good girl feeling?”

“Like I got destroyed by a pro hero,” you muttered, cheeks heating.

He laughed softly, rolling you under him again. “You did so well last night. Took everything I gave you like my perfect girl.” His hand slid down your thigh, teasing. “Think you can handle a little more after breakfast? Or is my girl too sensitive today?”

You groaned, hiding your face in his shoulder, but your legs parted anyway. Izuku smiled against your skin, already whispering more praise.

“That’s my good puppy.”

༉‧₊˚. A/N: this is FILTHY. but I wanna get dommed by izu SOOOOOOOO bad.

comments and reblogs are always appreciated!!

masterlist

[gwonty]

Warnings: NSFW🔞, inmate!Sukuna, anal sex, reader is Sukuna’s prison bitch, he uses you like a toy, reader is a fem woman disguised as a man in prison, power play, dub con-ish (he’s quite rough), overstimulation, idk this is a very long fic

The guard guiding you to your cell snorts when you ask if you’ll have your own space. You can’t exactly explain to him that you’re a woman disguised as a man and need your privacy. Perhaps you’re in over your head.

You gulp as you peek around the loud prison. Large men stare as you pass by. It’s clear they’ve made this place like home, clothes lines full of laundry, some playing card games, comfy slippers, lounging on the tables or mingling about.

“Here you are,” the guard stops in front of an open cell, rolling out his hand, “your penthouse suite.”

It looks like a stale dorm room for the most part. Two metal single beds, a metal toilet, two desks. And zero privacy.

Your supposed cellmate is doing pull ups on a makeshift bar in the middle of the room. His large bare, tatted back faces you, bulging arms, baggy sweatpants, and a head of pure pink hair. He’s grunting with every pull up, but they still seem chillingly effortless.

The guard leans his shoulder against the doorway. “Ryomen,” he whistles loudly as if to get a bull’s attention. “Got a new friend for you.”

Your eyes flick from the amused guard to your new ‘friend’ who gets one last pull-up in before dropping two socked feet to the ground with a grunt. You swear the fucking ground rumbles. He turns towards you and your knees wobble as his shadow over takes you.

Red eyes. Half of his face is mutilated, marred by a fire from long ago, you can surmise. His face tattoos match his body. He’s tall, you wouldn’t even be able to reach the height of his makeshift pull-up bar on the tips of your toes.

You stiffen as he sizes you up like the other inmates did on your way in. You hope you wrapped your chest tight enough. A woman in an all male prison? Not a good idea for too many reasons.

“Hi—” you clear your throat of the high pitched tone, adopting a fake, deeper one, “Hey, bro. It’s uh— cool to meet you— or whatever.”

You could slap yourself. Who are you kidding? You don’t know how to talk like a guy. You should have told Gojo ‘No, no amount of money would make me spend a year in a male prison.’ You shouldn’t have drank so much and stupidly agreed that night at the bar, because now, the best case scenario here is that the guard takes you away and they throw the real you into a women’s prison for trying to ‘fool the system.’

The man takes a step forward, and you’re already tensing for a blow— but he just shoulder checks you on the way out. You stumble a little, immediately going to rub your shoulder.

The guard looks properly amused, holding back a laugh. “Here,” he kicks off the wall, pushing some supplies into your arms. Another guard must have handed these over to him as you greeted your cellmate.

“Have fun,” he makes his brows jump and moseys away.

You deeply exhale through the nerves in your chest, walking towards your bed, if you can even call it that. You drop the supplies onto the thin mattress. Sheets, blanket, toothbrush, etc.

You’ve never been one to pray, but you’re considering it right about now. You shake your head and give yourself something to do: put on your sheets, organize the few toiletries you have on your desk.

After fifteen minutes, some kind of bell rings through the prison and you watch inmates filter out of their cells.

You stand and lean out of the cell curiously. You catch one of them muttering about ‘green beans’ and you realize it’s dinner time.

You enter the crowded mess hall and you’re immediately overwhelmed, clattering trays and chaos. The smell of old meatloaf and sweaty man fills the room.

You keep your head down as you get in line, adopting a slight slouch in hopes to avoid accidental eye contact that could be perceived as a threat. The second you’re pulled into something like a violent altercation, you’ll likely be exposed as a woman quite fast.

Dinner is slop with a side of slop on a metal tray, and you’re realizing why Gojo wanted to avoid this place so adamantly. A fucking paid vacation, he’d said.

You scan the mess hall with the tray in your hands, heart racing.

You spot two guards leaning against the entrance, watching you with amusement— like they’re waiting to see what happens to you, who will pick the runt of the litter. You’re the entertainment. You must look like a little meek boy, shaking in your boots.

It’s packed. Big men in little stools. It reminds you of highschool clicks but worse. You spot your pink haired cellmate, sat alone at the only empty table, but one mean glance up with those red eyes and you’re searching elsewhere.

“Who do we have here?” A deep voice sings as a heavy arm drops around your shoulders.

You glance up at him to see a blue haired man with scars all over his body, like he’d previously had poorly done stitches. He smiles at you with dead eyes.

Some of his friends surround the two of you, bored and idle— but their bulky presence only makes you nervous.

“Need somewhere to sit?” he hums tauntingly, tilting his head down to your level. “My name’s Mahito.”

“Oh, I—”

“Shhh little pet, I’ve got you now. I’ll take you under my wing! You don’t even have to thank me or anything.” His smile makes your spine tense with chills as he moves to stand in front of you.

Do you have another choice? You’re afraid of offending him and his scary friends if you decline.

Mahito continues, as if your acceptance is a given. “Let’s just get some things straight before—”

He’s interrupted by a large fist slamming into his jaw, knocking him right off his feet and onto his ass. Your hands tense around your tray, eyes wide as your gaze snaps to see who just punched Mahito into a limp, dream state.

It’s your pink haired cellmate, looking down at his victim while ringing out his fist like it’s just another Tuesday.

Fights must be common around here, because when you look around, no one seems surprised. Most of the men just mind their business and continue eating their food. Even the two guards are whistling, turning the other cheek.

You gulp. Mahito’s friends don’t even try to defend him, they just back away— like hyenas in the presence of a lion. You hear one of them mutter a name, ‘Sukuna.’

You wonder if anyone is even going to bring Mahito to the infirmary, but when Sukuna’s roaming gaze sweeps over you, all thoughts freeze in fear.

You hold his gaze a beat too long, unsure, until you see a flicker in his expression, a subtle tightening of the corner of his eyes. In a breath, you fold inward, chin dipping down to your chest in retreat.

He breaks the tension first, adjusting his neck as he turns away. He settles back into his seat with his meal, relaxed and borderline bored.

You have no clue what his intentions are, or what saving you signifies. Regardless, you’re relived to not sit with Mahito.

With no other option, you inch your way over to the only empty table where Sukuna sits. He remains focused on his food, ignoring your presence completely as you sit as far away as possible— on the literal side edge of the seat.

You cautiously take a bite, peeking at him defensively, but he remains indifferent.

__________________

Lights out, 9:10 pm.

You lay in your uncomfortable little bed, staring at the dirty ceiling. The cell door clanged shut at exactly 9 pm and when the guard made his final round, flashlight shining through the corridor— he passed by with a slow, deliberate glance followed by a wink that made you feel uncomfortable.

You can’t sleep, tossing and turning for 10 minutes. You shift on your side, unable to lay in one position for longer than two minutes due to this stone of a mattress.

“Quit. Moving.”

You freeze at the demand coming from your cellmate, who probably hasn’t been able to sleep with all of your loud movement.

“Sorry,” you chirp quietly, pressing your lips together between your teeth.

He exhales, deeply. You peek at him and he’s facing the opposite wall, naked back towards you.

You don’t know prison etiquette, are you meant to do something specific if someone saves you from a group of scary individuals like he did earlier? Maybe give him half of your lunch from now on or he’ll take you into the back and beat the teeth out of you?

“Um,” you whisper, practicing your ‘boy’ voice.

You feel the energy in the room shift, like when you were a child sharing a bunk with your sibling and you’d start spouting nonsense to each other after 3am.

“Thank you.”

You feel relief when a silent moment passes, maybe he’s asleep and didn’t hear you, because now that you’ve actually said it, you regret it. How stupid and naive could you be? You reckon gratitude like this may not apply in prison.

He grunts as he adjusts his position, and you cringe at the ceiling, subtly inching your thin blanket up to your chin. Oh. He definitely heard you.

You nod off after too many minutes of silence and you wake in the morning to the sound of the breakfast bell. You all but squeal opening your eyes to see your sweaty cellmate looming over your bed.

You quickly clear your throat, sitting up and glancing around at your surroundings. You kick your ‘boy’ voice up, trying to recover from your girly scream. “Morning.”

He throws a small towel over his shoulder and walks off, unbothered by the strangeness of standing over someone’s bed before they’ve even awoken.

Your breast wraps are still in tact when you peek down under your shirt, so you don’t think he saw anything he wasn’t supposed to.

Breakfast is uneventful, thankfully. Mahito, who has fresh dark bruises along his face, doesn’t even look your way. You sit alone at Sukuna’s table, the same acceptable distance as before.

Things are just okay, you think.

That is, apart from the whole using the bathroom thing. You’ve been putting it off. But, it’s unavoidable.

After breakfast, you peek into your cell where the shared toilet is, only to see Sukuna casually reading a scroll with one hand and doing one armed push ups with the other. The image of using the toilet in here makes your face sour. That’d be a type of humiliation you’d rather avoid, and that’s not even accounting for keeping your gender a secret.

Instead, you settle for the shared bathrooms connected to the showers in one large tiled, communal room.

Standing in front of the toilet stall, you curse Gojo’s entire family line. Because of course the stalls don’t have doors. Somewhere far away, Gojo suddenly feels shivers race down his spine in the middle of his little mochi date.

Apart from the unsettling experience of using the bathroom surrounded by large men shaving and brushing their teeth, you overheard interesting information as you did your business. You had to translate male prison gossip lingo, but apparently Sukuna and Mahito’s little altercation yesterday wasn’t random.

They have history. Something about ‘daring to touching his soul’ — whatever that means. You think soul is code for a drug supply, maybe.

Yesterday’s incident was a ‘checking’ as your fellow inmates say. Mahito was trying to force you, someone weak and new, into his group, which made him look strong among the lower ranks. But when Sukuna stepped in, punching his lights out in front of everyone, it was a show of power.

Mahito dominates people like you, small and submissive by nature, to stay on top, but Sukuna operates on a whole nother level. In that simple act, he showed everyone that you’re on the bottom, people like Mahito are in the middle, and Sukuna reigns on top.

You’re already cringing at your naivety thanking him last night, like he was some knight in shining armor.

Once you get back to your cell, Sukuna’s still reading, this time, sat on his bed all glistening with sweat having finished his workout.

You ignore your nerves walking past him to sit on your own bed with your back against the wall.

You’d scored a notebook and pen from the recreation room, and begin idly drawing the time away. Seeing how he’s the only thing there is to draw in this place, you start sketching Sukuna’s profile.

His nose is particularly a unique shape, reminiscent of the Greek God statues. You glance up for the millionth time to get the particular slope of his bridge committed to memory, and startle to see him looking back at you with a glare.

You slouch into yourself, your face growing hot having been caught staring and you force your eyes back down.

“You keep thinking you’re allowed to do that.”

Your heart rate kicks up at his scary gravelly tone, like a demon having come back to life in the form of his vocal cords. You naively thought he didn’t notice your glances, since he never even spared you a look.

“Sorry,” you mutter quietly.

“Look at me,” he demands in a way that you wouldn’t dare consider disobeying. Fuck. You were hoping he’d just let it be.

You clench your eyes shut for a brief moment, squeezing your pen in your palm before slowly sitting up and peering at him.

“Pitiful. Truly.” He scoffs, looking at your entire form with disgust. “Do you have no honor? Stand.”

You hesitate, gaze flicking, feeling like you’re playing a game of simon says.

“I said,” his tone rumbles as he moves to sit at the edge of his bed, chin resting on his fist, “stand.”

A passing inmate side eyes your open cell, but he minds his business as if it holds a sleeping monster within.

You gently toss your notebook to the side and your brows twitch as you push yourself up to stand, socked feet meeting the cold floor.

You aren’t even sure if you’re meant to be looking at him still, gaze uncertain.

“Now kneel.”

A flashback of how hard Sukuna’s fist met the bone of Mahito’s jaw makes you slowly bend and drop to your knees.

You spot a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes before a judgmental expression takes over, like your obedience is simultaneously sickening and mandatory to him.

“You hold your head quite high,” he hints at your lack of respect, and if putting your forehead on the dirty floor is all he makes you do for disrespectfully staring, you’d probably be lucky.

Your brows pinch in a pout, grossed out with the prospect of it but still, you inch your head down.

“Good,” he drawls the word out with a whispery rasp, “Go on. All the way down.”

Once you’re in a fully seated bow, like a servant in the old ages, he exhales slow and deep. Cathartically.

A long moment passes with his red eyes on the back of your head. The floor smells like dirt and a trace of bleach. You’re completely vulnerable in his position, with the back of your neck exposed and blinded.

Honestly, you’re wondering if Sukuna is still there. It’s so quiet, all you can hear is the subtle mumble of the others outside of the cell in the main area and the tick of the clock.

You prepare to speak by taking in a small breath, and that’s all it takes for Sukuna to snap at you.

“Did I say you could speak?”

You gulp.

“You’re new,” he complains, “The next time you disobey me, you won’t enjoy what I do.”

You hear the bed creak from him standing, but he doesn’t take a step in any direction. Just stands above you.

“Lick the floor.”

Your lips part in shock, blinking at the floor in confusion. You can’t even begin to imagine the disgusting things that line this floor after decades of men coming in and out. You’ve seen the guy who cleans the floors, he’s blind— literally. Humiliation is the only benefit to making someone do something like this, to knock them back into their place. You don’t have another choice.

“Show me,” he snaps, making you flinch. “Your tongue.”

Fuck this place, you obey. Slip your tongue out and slide it against the floor, eyes clenched shut to cope with the taste of everything horrible and bitter.

Pushing your palms to the floor, you lift your head, giving him the pathetic display of your twitching tongue.

The light above halo’s his pink head like a dark angel, and you see his lips curl into a diabolical smile. Pleased with your submission.

He squats, lining his mouth to your ear— not touching, but close enough to hear. “The hell are you looking at?”

Your eyes clench shut as fast as his words come out and you almost flinch when you feel the tip of his finger brush against your clavicle. Your breast wrap is right there—not impossibly close, but too close for comfort. It’s like he’s bringing attention to how frail your bones are, brushing the bone so lightly.

“Speak.”

“You— I’m sorry,” is all you know to spit out around the taste of the bitter floor in your mouth.

He tuts like your answer is just average, a boring C- at best. It seems to be all you know how to say, that and thank you.

“I don’t want trouble— I didn’t know I couldn’t look at you,” you stupidly explain.

“Have a little crush on me?”

You gulp, shaking your head. “N-No.”

He stands. “Why are you here?”

“Because you told me to—” your uncertain gaze flicks around his face but never connects to his eyes.

He interrupts you, repeating himself in a rougher tone, “Why are you here?”

You realize he’s asking why you were locked up.

“Speak. My impatience is not passive you’ll soon find out,” he snaps at you when you don’t immediately answer.

“I— I lost a bet. I needed money.” Technically not a lie, but you can see how your words imply that you robbed someone or something.

He uses a socked foot to nudge at your tummy, and you tense, praying he doesn’t lift it or lower it in either direction.

You’re bracing for a kick, a shove, something. Instead, he simply runs his foot down your abdomen until his toes brush the clothed skin above your pussy. You shiver in anticipated worry, looking up at him through your lashes like he’s a god given the right to deciding your fate.

Just when you think this is it, he’s going to push just an inch lower and notice your lack of dick— he loudly sniffles and walks out like nothing happened.

________________

Later, 11:25 am.

Your one reprieve after your humiliating morning is the library. Everyone has a job in prison— a 0.25$ paying job— but it’s better than nothing. You’d been lucky to land a job sorting books. Pushing a little cart around, organizing the collection of educational texts, self-help, religious, even things like the hunger games— it was nice.

That is, until your heart drops down to your ass when Sukuna pushes you against the shelf, chest pressing into your back.

You gasp, dropping the book in your grasp. Your mind immediately flicks to movies you’ve seen, involving a homemade shiv and a lot of blood, people who have nothing to lose and kill just for the hell of it. You’re an easy target too, smaller than the rest.

“You’re welcome,” he says casually into your ear. He’s not even pushing into you in an overtly sexual manner, just pinning you to the shelves.

You knew he was awake last night. But, he definitely didn’t intentionally protect you from Mahito, no, it had nothing to do with you. He’s taunting you.

You let out a shaky breath, daring to speak just above a whisper. “F—for what?”

“This is how it’s going to work,” he explains, hard hand gripping the back of your neck, “I’m going to fuck your ass, use you until that gratitude dries up and in return— no one will touch you.”

Oh shit. Your face pales. He’s explaining the concept of being a ‘bitch’ to you because it’s your first time in prison. Was it that obvious? (Yes.)

You let out a fearful whine under your breath, so quiet, but being so close, he hears it.

“What’s wrong? Thought you wanted to thank me,” he mocks you, hot breath fanning your ear. Maybe in another universe, you’d beg the domineering man fuck you— as you. But if you want your gender to remain a secret in here, you have no choice but to get out of this.

“I— but,” You grip the shelf harshly, thinking of any excuse, “I’m a virgin!”

A pause. Did that actually work? You’re not an actual virgin, but you’ve never done anal— technically not a lie.

Your bated breath halts when he lets out a boisterous laugh. “Oh?” he drawls like a king on a throne.

You can almost guarantee he feels your heart thumping through your fucking back.

“You’re just a hole. Meant for use. Doesn’t matter to me, I truly don’t care.”

“I— please, I can’t do that for you. I want to— I really want to! But I can’t,” you breathe, hoping you haven’t offended his ego— which you assume is larger than this building. You want to be able to say yes, just so that you don’t have a target on your back.

“Tch,” he clicks in distaste, “I won’t injure you. Is that enough to address your concerns?” You think he mutters a ‘loser’ under his breath but you aren’t sure.

The fact that he’s even trying to quell your fears is surprising, and gives you a spec of hope. It also allows you to consider the idea of what his protection in exchange would mean. Everyone clearly fears Sukuna, you’d get through this year untouched— aside from the obvious.

“Uh—uhm,” you gulp, side glancing back at him as much as his grip will allow. “I’m insecure about uh.. my dick.”

His brows lower into a furrow, looking at you with judgement. “Fine,” he rolls his eyes, “your little cock won’t come out of its confines. Satisfied?”

Are you actually going to do this? Can you even pull this off? The fact that this man even wants to fuck you in the first place is completely out of the blue. You knew things like this happened in here, but from this guy?

You shift. “Why do you want this— with me?”

“I’m not gay,” he scoffs, “Fool. I simply need a flesh light.”

“Oh, and,” he pushes his nose into your head, behind your ear, and sniffs, “you smell nice, like a woman.”

You shiver. It’s horrifying that he can actually smell that on you without knowing it.

“Deal?”

You clench your eyes shut and nod.

He finally pushes off of you and mutters a ‘good’ before walking away and out of the library.

___________

You’ve never been one for the concept of anal. You’d glare whenever a boyfriend would even bring it up. It’s always felt inconsiderate, like you’re just being used when a more pleasurable hole is right there. You’re kind of nervous, but part of you is relieved.

Since you made the deal, Sukuna has ‘claimed’ you. He makes you grab his meals for him, sit across from him in the cafeteria, visible signs of ownership. The other inmates avoid you completely; even a minor bump into your shoulder in passing earns an apology. You’re his now, and everyone knows it. Off limits.

As for your end of the deal, you aren’t sure when Sukuna is going to be in the mood to fuck. You’ve been stealing peeks at him, watching too closely, hoping for a signal, but Sukuna noticed. After that time you practically jumped when he stood up from his bed, he gave you a glare that made your knees weak. Instead, you’ve decided to just wait for him to tell you when he’s ready.

A few days after your library talk, Sukuna finally gives you the signal.

It’s morning, and you wake to see him hovering over your bed once again.

You startle, sitting up quickly as you rub your eyes. “Wh— what happened?”

He tosses you a little bag of chips, the type you can only get from the confectionery, and your brows furrow down at it.

“Um,” you glance at him, unsure, “thank you.” It sounds more like a question than a statement.

“Library, 12 pm. There’s a spot with no cameras in the back.”

Your eyes flicker in recognition, and your heart races as you nod. “Okay, I’ll— um— I’ll be there. That’s great. Sounds good.”

He deadpans at your pathetic attempt at speaking and walks off.

You can’t help but feel a weird affection placing the bag of chips under your bed, rolling your eyes at yourself. It’s a bag of chips, and you have more to worry about than catching feelings for this guy.

You have to prep.

The communal showers are sectioned by half walls and curtains. You’ve been able to shower, dry yourself, wrap your breasts, and get dressed all inside of the little shower section without anyone seeing your important body parts since you’ve been here. Still, you’d rather some privacy as you do what needs to be done today.

Thankfully, it’s empty when you check the showers while breakfast is taking place.

You stand there naked under the water, toes curling in nerves as you slowly bring the empty bottle up to fill it with water. A homemade douche. It’s mildly humiliating shooting water up your ass but it’s a necessary evil.

About a few hours later, you’re sorting books like your job entails, while anxiously glancing at the door and wall clock every two minutes with anticipation.

At 12:03 he pushes the door open, and you immediately turn your head back to face the shelves.

You hear him snap at the only person reading at a table, forcing them to leave. Your heart races when you hear him lock the entrance door behind them.

You stupidly pretend you’re deciding which shelf the book in your hands belongs on as his heavy footsteps close the distance between you.

He settles right beside you and you peek up at him.

“Come.” He nods his head, gesturing you to follow as he turns and leads you to the last isle, all the way to the back of the room.

“Right here?” You glance at the camera in the corner.

“Right here.”

You gasp when he grabs your hips and manhandles you over to the very corner of the isle, pressed into the shelf with your back to him. “It’s a blind spot.”

“Okay,” you lick your lips nervously, fumbling with the hem of your sweatpants. “I— how do we— should I just—?”

He squeezes his big hands over your shaky ones, stopping you. “Relax,” he snaps. “Ass fucking is not that difficult. It’ll be a lot easier for you than it is for women.”

You gulp at that, his (rude) reassurance means nothing considering the obvious.

He swats your hands away and you squeak when he pulls your sweatpants down enough to expose your ass to the chilly air.

You curiously glance back when you hear a click of a cap opening. He squirts an ungodly amount of lube into his palm and tosses it aside. (How did he even obtain lube in here?)

“Pretty fucking ass,” he says as if it’s an insult, using one hand to spread your cheek and slide a glob onto your hole with two fingers.

You cringe at the cold feeling of the gel as he rubs your hole, anticipating him shoving his finger in there.

“It’s gonna hurt,” you say wearily, “right?”

He rolls his eyes, using his middle finger to push at the resistance of the rim.

You gasp when it pops in. He slowly massages your insides in a manner to loosen the very edges, preparing the most taught of the muscles to stretch. It’s more weird than uncomfortable feeling something wiggling around in there.

“You’re lucky I’m doing this,” he rasps, “Virgin.”

“Thank you,” you squeak. He uses his free hand to shove your hips out a bit more.

He whispers as he pulls his finger out, “How’s it feel knowing you’re about to get fucked in the ass? Feel the shame yet?”

You gulp and clench your eyes shut when you catch a glimpse of his hefty cock being pulled out of his sweats. A large, scary winding vein catches your eye.

“Slow,” you chirp as he presses the tip to your ass, “please go slow.”

He notches his chin over your head, wrapping one arm around your tummy to push your back into his chest and grunts, “I will.”

His large body envelops you, like a hard hug. If it weren’t for his tip forcing your asshole to open up, you’d probably enjoy being held by a big man like this.

You hiss, unable to keep your hands from snapping back and digging your nails into his hips. The intrusion is uncomfortable, so odd and unnatural to have something this big pushing into your backside.

He doesn’t seem to mind your nails, undulating the tip around in circles within the very inside so you can get used to the feeling.

“That’s it,” he drawls, “open up.”

You let out a high-pitched whine and your ‘boy’ persona is thrown out of the window, completely irrelevant as he inches the rest of it in. He’s fully seated.

“Okay, okay,” you gasp, frantically tapping his hip and toned back, “don’t move yet.”

He exhales deeply, like he feels relaxed having finally mounted a warm hole. His warm huffs of breath calm you as they steadily fan the side of your head.

“Tick tock,” he hums after a minute of your hole pulsing around him in attempt to cope with the intrusion. “It will hurt less if I move.”

“Fuck,” you whimper, shaky hands moving to brace against the shelves. “Okay, fine.”

“Good.” He wraps one hand roughly around your mouth and his other arm holds your midsection taut to his front.

You squeal behind his hand when he pulls out and barrels back in with one hard rut. It hurts, but somehow, his large dick has reached your g-spot through your ass. You likely have a bulge in your tummy from the way his tip is angled to push down against your vaginal canal through the back door.

“Ahhh.” He tilts his head and rumbles an exhales right into your ear, like he’s dipping into a nice, warm hot-spring.

It doesn’t take long for him to set a rhythm, rocking his hips in short, hard thrusts. The contact of your cheeks meeting his hips creates a loud ‘plap,’ bouncing off the books in lewd repetition. His harsh breaths are the most you receive from him in terms of vocalized pleasure, but sometimes he offers a grunt.

Your feet shuffle with every hit, toes barely touching the ground as his strong hold keeps you up in the air like you’re just a human sized flesh light. He’s using you, and you can’t deny his incidental abuse of your g-spot feels good.

“You moan like a fuckin girl,” he hisses into your ear as he pounds your ass.

You can only moan under his palm, confirming his what he thinks is an insult. The jackhammering is short and mean, barely a few inches of his base exiting your puckering hole before stuffing it back inside.

“This ass is mine,” he grunts as your clit throbs with need, “Pathetic fuck. Letting a guy bend you over.”

Your legs shake as he grows frantic and mean, putting horrifying strength behind each thrust. You’re fucking like bunnies, your body frantically jostles up and down and you’d be embarrassed if it weren’t for how he’s completely dominating you. A few books fall right off of the shelf and clatter to the carpeted floor with the force of it all. You wonder if he’s fucking you this hard because he thinks you’re a man, that you can and should be able to handle it.

You exhale sharply out of your nose, eyes clenched shut as you take his last few slams.

“Fuck!” He grunts, throwing his head back as his grip on you grows so harsh you’ll have bruises on your waist later. You feel his dick pulse as he dumps his load as deep as he can go into your ass, keeping his hips still against your irritated asscheeks.

Finally he sighs as he slides out, making your hole clench shut the second the intrusion is gone.

You practically stumble for balance as he lets you go, knees buckling. Pussy dripping and confused while your ass aches.

You want to just collapse right here, take a much needed rest, but you can’t risk an accidental flash of your pussy. You pull your sweatpants up, out of breath.

He tucks his dick back in, glancing down at you with a glow of physical relief on his face. “You took me well,” he licks his top teeth, tilting his head. “Did you enjoy getting your cherry popped?”

That was almost a compliment. Your insides are still screaming for an orgasm and a break simultaneously. You feel your face rise in temp, pathetically, and you can’t help but tuck your chin to your chest.

“Just fucked you and you’re getting shy.” He snickers with a look of disgust. “I think i’ll play with you again and again until I tire of this.”

He doesn’t even give you a chance to respond before moseying out of the library, adjusting his dick in his pants as he goes.

Somehow, you’d gotten away with the first fucking without revealing your secret. Aside from not having a chance to finish the job and rub yourself to a much needed orgasm, you’re quite proud of yourself.

Sukuna doesn’t speak to you more than usual following the act, he’s just not the type. Does one speak to their flesh light between uses?

That night, you almost believe you’re dreaming when you wake up to Sukuna’s weight lying directly on top of you. You couldn’t sleep comfortably on your sore ass, so you’d had to sleep on your tummy, giving him a perfect opportunity.

“Again,” he rasps into your ear, grinding against your ass. You must have done well earlier if he’s already back for more, or he’s fond of how your asshole feels.

You tiredly whine and lower your groggy tone to say, “But the guards will hear— and the others.”

He ignores your concerns and crawls down your body, yanking your sweats down. You squeak, pushing a hand under yourself to keep your pants up at the front.

You glance over your shoulder. “What are you— oh!”

He spreads your ass and licks a stripe up your asshole, terrifyingly close to your pussy. So close your pussy clenches in anticipation, having a sweet mind of its own.

He pauses as he looks down at your hole with furrowed brows. It’s dark enough that he won’t be able to see the feminine parts of you, you hope.

He doesn’t say a word about his pause, just brings his face back down and pushes his tongue into your ass. He wriggles it around and you cringe, gripping the sheets as he stimulates your sore hole. You can’t even tell if it feels good to have your ass ate, or if it’s the concept of this man with his face in your ass, or the fact that you’re just fucking horny and begging for scraps.

After one last lick from your hole all the way up to your lower back, he crawls up to lay on you with his lips to your ear.

“Why the fuck is your ass sweet?” he asks as he lifts his hips to yank his cock out. Your brows raise, almost letting out a snicker. It must be due to your pussy leaking wetness down to your ass all day since the library.

“I— I don’t know,” you mumble as he holds one of your cheeks open and slides his tip against your hole.

“Just,” he grunts as he pops the tip in, not even waiting before pushing in to the hilt, “stay quiet and I’ll be done in a second.”

You whine under your breath, fisting the sheets as your toes curl. His legs surround the outsides of yours as his arms wrap around your neck in a loose headlock. You aren’t sure you can stay quiet if he pounds you like he did before without his hand covering your mouth. Getting caught with his dick in your ass doesn’t sound so great.

But fuck, you suddenly don’t care because his abs clench as he lifts his hips and slides back in, already gaining a stead rhythm. It’s slower than before, but hard. Your eyes roll back at how passionate it is, fingers pressing into his pulsing arms around your neck. You can’t remember the last time a man truly put his heart into fucking you.

You think you may be able to enjoy this little arrangement after all, considering his dick is big enough to pound into your g-spot with every hump. Maybe his claim on you, the free use of it all, is charming too.

But then, he begins to slide a hand down under you and you freeze.

He’s reaching for your nonexistent dick.

You snap your hand down to grip his wrist, stopping him, but you know that he could bypass your frail hold if he really wanted to.

“D-Don’t touch,” you breathily murmur through his continued thrusts.

“Tch,” he grunts in distaste, “Won’t see your ugly dick. You should be thanking the gods that I’d even try to touch you.”

You wish you could allow him to touch, rub your clit, finger you, fuck you the proper way. But no matter how horny you are, you have to have a clear head about this. If he knew you were a woman, he could tell the guards— or worse, tell the other inmates and let them have a turn with you. That’s just the tip of the iceberg of the horrible things that could happen to you if you’re exposed.

“I know, I know,” you gulp, lips parting as he manages a particularly nice thrust, “just— next time. Okay? Next time.”

He huffs, exasperated and gives up, moving his hand away and instead uses it to dig into your hip to get a better angle.

“Fuuck,” you breathe in a particularly girly way as he reaches deeper, and he hisses in your ear in obvious pleasure. He seems to enjoy the way you ‘moan like a woman.’

“Good,” he thrusts, “little,” thrust, “hole.”

He cums with a last few pitiful humps and rubs his hips against your ass in a circle as if to make sure his cum is deeep in there.

You feel utterly spent when he pulls out, two loads in your ass just from today and you’re clocking out.

He doesn’t even give you another look as he gets up and stretches with a yawn, wet dick still hanging about his thigh.

You pull your sweats up with a grimace at how sore your asshole feels. If you weren’t so horny, you might be annoyed how beat up your insides feel.

You exhale in relief when he passes out the second he flops down into bed like any average man does. You’re already thinking of some way to fool him into thinking you have a cock by the next time he wants to fuck.

_______

You’ve stolen a cucumber from the kitchen. It wasn’t easy, but you managed.

Sukuna has you up against the cell bars and has grown quite confident in his ability to fuck you within an inch of your life. He doesn’t seem like he’s all that invested in you, after all, he still thinks of you as some boy he’s using to get off. But you’re still enjoying it as much as any woman can reasonably enjoy anal.

He definitely seems to enjoy fucking you too, because you can feel his thighs shake as he pounds into you.

He kicks your feet wider and reaches around you to grab at your ‘dick.’ “Gonna let me touch it now?”

You gulp, peeking down at his hand that finds the cucumber and grips it.

“Jesus Christ, you’re fucking hard.”

You would laugh in his face if he wasn’t obliterating your insides with heavy humps.

He slowly begins to knead your ‘cock’ and the only way you know that, is because the tip of the cucumber incidentally rubs against your clit with every one of his strokes.

“Oh shit,” you breathe, brows raising and blinking into an eye roll of surprise pleasure. The stimulation to your clit and g-spot is like heaven after two days of being pent up.

“Don’t— don’t stop,” you beg, making his brow quirk.

The second you start fucking back into his cock, like an auto-masterbater, Sukuna’s eyes roll and his orgasm appears in the distance.

He sinks his teeth into your shoulder, indifferent to the pain he could be causing and meets your thrusts half way. There’s no way you’re not waking the entire cell block with the slapping sound bouncing off the concrete walls.

You sigh in disappointment when he lets go of your ‘dick’ and uses both hands to grip your hips, thrusting harder than ever.

He hisses an inhale like it hurts, a string of saliva connecting your shoulder to his teeth— and cums as his feet slightly shuffle.

“Phew,” he exhales, pulling out and tucking his dick back in. He crashes right into bed, just like before, and leaves you throbbing and needy. Again.

_____________

Sometime in the middle of the night, Your cell.

Sukuna has turned ravenous, he wants to fuck everyday, at least twice. It’s a bit much because you have to prep the same day before anal, and you’ve had to turn him down. Not without worries of how he’d take the rejection with little explanation, but thankfully, all he did is tsk and walk off.

One day of no sex, and he’s been staring at you through the entire day. When you wake up, in the cafeteria, on walks, while you draw on your bed. It’s frightening since you can’t read his expression that’s always resting in a threatening way. Would it be stupid to ask what he’s feeling?

Honestly, you just wanted him to wait until you could prep, and then he could have at it— but he didn’t get the message. And it’s not like you can just tell him, ‘Hey Sukuna, you can fuck my ass anytime now. Clock’s ticking!’ That’d mean you’re actively seeking anal, and that’s ridiculous. Right?

You shrug it off and decide to ignore his stare, focusing your attention on the book in your hands. He’s a big boy, if he needs something, he’ll ask for it.

And ask for it, he does.

You gasp when you’re suddenly pushed down flat to your bed, strong hands spreading your legs so Sukuna can rest between them as your book clatters to the floor. You hadn’t even heard his footsteps, or the creak of his bed as he stood.

“Jesus Christ,” you breathe, looking up at him with your heart racing out of your chest. “You scared me.”

His clothed bulge is hovering just above your pussy, but if he rested his weight down a few inches, you’re fucked. Maybe literally.

He must have just showered, his hair is damp and dark pink. He looks down at you hungry, like you’re not a person but a fucktoy with a timed lock on it that’s almost ready to use again, licking his bottom lip. “Does this fix your problem? Can I fuck you now, princess?”

Your brows furrow, an obvious question mark on your expression. You ignore the pet name meant to taunt you, because you’re not a man with toxic masculinity.

He rolls his eyes. “I’m not kissing you. Missionary is as romantic as I’ll get. Take it or leave it.”

What? He must have misinterpreted your rejection as a desire for more intimacy and affection when you have sex. The idea of missionary with Sukuna makes your tummy flutter— but you can’t.

You press your lips together, concealing a laugh. “Oh. Um— no,” you gently press against his chest, “I like how we usually do it.”

“You know,” he leans into your face, “I’m getting real tired of you bossing me around.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, recalling your excuse for keeping your dick out of sight, “I just feel— uh—insecure.”

“Fuck that,” he grunts, grabbing hold of the hem of your sweats, “Only way to get over that shit is to face it.”

You grasp his wrist, nervously. It’s not like you don’t want Sukuna to know you’re a woman so you can fuck the way you want to, it’s just too complicated and risky.

“I— really, let’s just do it against the wall, like we always do!” you attempt to convince him as he pulls against your hold.

He doesn’t say a word, just squints at you like he can smell bullshit in your words.

Suddenly, he yanks your pants all the way down until they fall to the floor and you immediately cup your sex, trying to hide from him. You twist your lower half to lie on your side, legs bent around his side so they can stay together.

He glances down at your lower half and grips your thigh. “Show me,” he snaps, more suspicious than warranted if he actually believed your lies of insecurity.

You shake your head stubbornly, clenching your eyes shut.

“Now,” he allows the word to reverberate against the walls of the cell, and you swear you can feel the vibrations in your chest.

That domineering tone is like a frequency that emits a wave of submission in timid people like you, like a lions roar to a cornered bunny.

Still, you don’t open your legs.

He scoffs a huff of air, like he’s in disbelief of your sudden ability to grow balls. Pun intended.

You peek your eyes open when you feel him shift to crawl down your body until his breath is fanning your hand covering your pussy and naked asshole.

You squeak when he slides his tongue against your fingers. “Open up,” he taunts, giving your asshole a little lick as well.

You whimper as he begins licking at your hand and your thighs, resolve dissolving with every warm, wet touch.

“I’m— I’m scared,” you admit with panic, though you’re being too vague for him to actually console you even if he wanted to.

He takes a big bite out of your thigh and you gasp, pussy clenching in need from the sting. Your wetness has made your hands slippery, and the second he takes another bite, this time a deep one on your fingers, your hand slips away with a sting and a hiss.

He takes the opportunity to yank your legs apart, spreading them over each of his thighs till you’re on full display in front of him. Like a plate.

Your wide eyes flick from your exposed pussy, to his red eyes trained down between your legs. You quickly reach to futilely cover yourself once again.

“Aht!” he scolds, pinning your wrists to the bed on either side of your body before they can cover your sex again. “Don’t fucking move,” he snaps, inches from your face.

You must have the expression of a small animal being prepped for slaughter as he closely eyes you because that’s exactly how you feel. You watch his face shift as he realizes your features aren’t just girly, you’re a fucking girl.

“Please.” You plead him, but for what exactly?

He exhales into you, ignoring you to observe your body. He lets go of one wrist to slowly raise the hem of your shirt up to your collarbones, revealing a tightly wrapped chest.

As if he needs to make sure, he rips it away and blinks at your bouncing tits. One last look at your pussy and he huffs harshly, gazing into your eyes like he just won the lottery.

“Holy shit.”

You’re mute, afraid and frozen in place as your legs clench around his hips, trying to close them around him even though it’s impossible.

“Why are you here?”

He watches you with equal parts curiosity and amused awe.

“I— I made a deal. A stupid fucking deal,” you breathe in your natural feminine voice. It’s not hard to assume the deal was money for time in prison.

He shakes his head, laughing airily like he can’t believe his eyes. “Now this is so very interesting. A woman in my cell.”

He leans into your ear, making your chest and tummy erupt in goosebumps. “I knew your little asshole was too good to be true.” He nips your ear and you whine.

“Don’t— please don’t tell anyone.”

Your quiet request makes him burst out laughing, head tossing back as he hovers over you territorially.

“Tell them?” A vein in his forehead pops as his gaze manically flicks back and forth from each of your eyes, “No, you foolish little thing. You’re all mine. You’d have to fucking kill me to share this pretty pussy.”

You aren’t sure if you should feel relived or scared. You’ve grown fond of Sukuna’s cock, but that look in his eye is downright diabolical.

“You’re,” you begin with a swallow, “not gonna hurt me?”

“Ohhh,” he breathes cathartically like he’s battling aggression seeing something so small and delicate beg not to be broken. “No, no. I’m not gonna hurt you. You’re safe with me.”

You aren’t so sure, if that glint in his eye and tone in his deep voice tells you anything. Like mouse encountering a perfect piece of cheese suspiciously sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor, begging to be eaten.

He leans in and lays a soft kiss to your cheek, making you blink.

“See?” he hums smiling, “I know exactly how to handle with care.”

He presses his nose to your neck and starts sniffing you loudly, like a dog— down to your breasts, your tummy, and finally he takes a good long sniff of your pussy.

You slap your hands to your face in embarrassment and he groans loudly on an exhale, jaw pinching as he clenches his teeth. “Fuuuck. Nothing quite like it. Your pussy smells very nice,” he trails off with a manic laugh, licking his lips.

His eye catches on your pinched brows once you hesitantly pull your hands away to grip the sheets and he leans into your face with a careful kiss to your jaw. “Deal still on, baby?”

You absolutely have no choice, you need his protection now more than before. Without this deal, there’s no telling what he’d do— no matter what he says. And even if he keeps his word, who’s to say no one else will find out your secret? It helps that he’s hauntingly sexy with a big dick he knows what to do with.

You gulp, nodding. “Yes, please.”

“Goood,” his lip curls as he drawls the word out, “That’s very good.”

He licks a wet stripe up the side of your face, making you grip his biceps.

“Are we going to have sex? My— You want my—”

He interrupts your stutter by humming against your cheek with amusement. “Oh yes. I want your pussy. I’m gonna take it over and over again.”

You exhale a sigh, eyes slightly rolling back, enjoying his words a little too much for the situation at hand.

“I’m not on birth control,” you warn him weakly as he begins to suck on your neck.

He hums nonchalantly, slowly sliding his hand down your tummy.

Your hips jerk when he cups your entire sex, long cold fingers pressing into your warm folds that are just begging for love.

“We don’t have condoms,” you add, biting your lip as he uses two middle fingers to carefully brush from your slippery hole up to your clit.

He chuckles against your neck, wickedly, like he’s enjoying every aspect of this conversation.

“No, we don’t,” he agrees with a smile you can literally hear on his voice.

Your jaw drops as he starts rubbing leisurely circles against your throbbing clit, back arching to press your abdomen into his hard abs.

“You have to pull out,” you whine in a broken moan.

“Okay,” he agrees with ease, moving to press his lips to yours.

You barely kiss him back, as his lips slide and suck on yours.

“I thought you said you didn’t want to kiss me,” you say, muffled as your legs tremble.

He moves his middle fingers down and slides one into your core, making you gasp into his mouth.

He abruptly shoves his tongue into your mouth, sliding and flicking against your tongue. He peeks the tip of his pointer finger in to join his middle inside you, and once your initial ring of resistance gives, he shoves it in like a glove.

“Oh,” you whine, brows pinching and toes curling. “Your fingers are so— fuck— they’re big.”

“Oho,” he breathes as he unhurriedly rocks them in and out, “You’ve been so unsatisfied, haven’t you? Getting ass fucked with not one touch to your pretty, crying little pussy.”

You nod erratically, “I was just so scared if you found ou— oh god.”

He gradually puts weight behind his thrusts, fingering you at an angle to abuse your g-spot.

“You thought I would want to hurt you,” he assumes with a pitying smile, “No, no. I just wanna fuck the shit out of you.”

You reach down and grip his wrist, but his hand in motion makes it difficult.

“Please make me cum,” you beg, “I’d be really— so grateful.”

“Yeah?” He presses a peck to your lips and crawls down to stuff his face between your legs. “Finally,” he sighs to your pussy.

He glances up at you and pecks your jumping clit. “Gonna eat your pussy. You want that?”

Your eyes roll back and you nod pathetically. “Oh my god, yes.”

He doesn’t waste time. He makes a pursing motion with his lips and basically sucks your clit into his mouth like a vacuum, gently suckling on it with his eyes blissfully closed. His free hand rests around your hip and flat against your lower tummy.

Your brain is fucking buzzing, toes curling in the air as you breathe short, pathetic breaths. You’re delightfully surprised he knows you need your clit stimulated to cum; a man in prison just isn’t the type you’d expected to know what most women need.

You use both hands to gently curl into his pink hair, watching his lips envelop your clit as the motion of his hand rocks into you.

“That feels good,” you affirm, voice shaky, making sure he knows he’s going a good job so he doesn’t feel motivated to stop.

He doesn’t answer you, just flicks his tongue against your clit with horrifying stamina, like his tongue is as trained as the rest of his body. You don’t feel a second of lag in his force behind his tongue and that yummy suction.

You melt when he transitions into thorough, flat tongued licks, the kind that nudges your clit in a way that’s not too overstimulating— but genuinely pleasurable in a sustainable way. You could actually cum like this. You rub his head like a masseuse, kneading the skin affectionately, making his brows and forehead slightly move with your massage.

He eats you like he hasn’t eaten his favorite meal in a long time, and considering the slop in the cafeteria, your delirious mind thinks it makes perfect sense that he’s probably soo hungry. It’s not his fault he’s so eager.

Your toes curl as your abdomen clenches inward, honing your focus to find an orgasm in the distance with every specifically pressurized slide of his tongue.

He tilts his head idly, side to side and the second he finds that perfect angle to the left, you gasp and yank his head impossibly closer.

“Right there, huh?” is the last thing he says before repeating the motion perfectly, over and over and over while his hand continues at ample speed. It’s about 27 licks in when the white blinds your sight and you give in to the ecstasy of an orgasm.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you— fuck!” you stupidly babble the one phrase you can’t seem to stop repeating to the man ever since you met him, voice strained and slurring as your brain short circuits and cuts off the connection between your motor skills and brain signals.

Even when you fall limp with fading euphoria, frailly whining, ‘no more,’ his big mouth attaches to your entire slit like a fucking milk pump, despite acknowledging your orgasm passing by discarding his wet fingers to join his other hand on your hip/tummy area.

It’s an interesting sight— your weak, spasming body jerking in overstimulation as he blissfully hallows his cheeks and enjoys your cunt with all kinds of tongue techniques. The type of techniques a stupidly rich man has learnt after so many wine tastings to get the full taste profile of every berry inside to layer over his every tastebud. Getting his full money’s worth of this favorite thing.

But fuck if it doesn’t feel good to be licked, even with the ultra sensitivity of an after glow.

“Sukuna— please,” you whimper, “Aren’t you gonna fuck me?”

That’s what makes him pause, flicking open his relaxed, heavily lidded gaze.

He unsuctions your warm folds, letting go in one popping motion and you exhale sharply when the cold air hits you.

He crawls up your body like a predator, more than twice your size. He slides his arms under your back to hold you flush to his body, hugging you in a possessive hold. One hand wraps around the back of your neck, fingers almost meeting at the front, and the other massages your lower back.

“Am I popping your pussy cherry too?” he hums, lips brushing yours as he speaks into your mouth.

“No,” you huff, “Is that a deal breaker?”

He nips your lower lip. “I’m gonna eat you whole,” he expresses how deeply he wants to fuck you— how small a concern like being a virgin would be to him.

You shiver, and maybe even start to consider why he’s in prison in the first place. Eat you.. whole..?

“Can we fuck first?”

He licks his teeth as his metaphorical tiger tail flicks behind him— like a bunny has triggered a tigers instinct to play while in the midst of a chase. If he could purr, he would be right about now.

Interrupting your little moment, the breakfast bell rings. Sukuna must have made his move an hour before six while you were reading the night away and neither of you noted the time. Sukuna had thought it’d be a 10 minute ass fuck, but now that he’s stumbled upon gold in the form of a woman, he’s gotten distracted.

You’re expecting Sukuna to be frustrated that you have to stop before you even reached the main event, but surprisingly, he just helps you get dressed and then stands lazily by the cell bars to cover you while you wrap your chest so no one eyes his plaything.

The guard just passes by boredly, doing morning checks, nodding at Sukuna in brief greeting.

Once the guard is out of sight, you huff in exhaustion and sit up on your bed. After all the fear of being exposed as a woman and having an orgasm like that, all you want is to sleep. You literally nod off as you sit there, listening to the ruffle of Sukuna throwing on some new clothes.

Two taps to your cheek makes you startle, slurping up some drool as you open your eyes. Sukuna squats in front of you, holding your knees.

“Breakfast,” he reminds you, “get up.”

You pout at his tone, having hoped he’d soften up to you after learning you’re a woman. A woman he desperately wants to fuck and protect and own.

“Can’t you bring it to me?”

He blinks at you, deadpanning. “The fuck did you just say?”

You flinch a bit, chin tucking into your chest. You grow even more alert as he stands and pushes over you, making you lean back in bed with your palms behind you, supporting your weight right beside his own larger ones.

“Does this pretty little thing want to be punished?”

You immediately bite your lip, smiling as he pushes his head into your neck to nip at it.

“Mhm, keep doing that,” you encourage his panty dropping neck kisses.

Oncoming footsteps leading closer and closer to your cell make your heart jolt, and suddenly he roughly pushes you down flat with a veiny hand tight around your throat.

“Begging for a beating so early in the morning are we, boy?” he rasps, menacingly, as the inmate walks past, peeking at your altercation briefly before scurrying off in fear of becoming involved in Sukuna’s business.

You smile.

Oh. This’ll be fun.

______

SORRY edged you there, didn’t I?

Also not sure if this counts as gender bend? Lmk if I should add it to the warnings!

Huge thanks to @specialgradefckr for giving me soo many ideas that I used for this fic— I love yew sm I wanna eat you. Please check out their page. They have delicious writing

[arminslovurrr]

denji, your favorite boy, a bright man despite all of his hardships, denji your favorite boy so willing to do anything to reach his goal not caring about having a goal based on avenging loss ones or making money to get out of a certain situation. a sense of belonging is all he strive for to live like a normal man, a man who can live a completely normal life where people want to steal his heart instead of the chainsaw devils.

And you did just that, it was like you showed him how to breathe again, showing him how to live a normal life though he still has the heart of a chainsaw. You didn’t see him for his powers or his perverted outbursts. You saw the achy soul that longed for happiness , the longing to be free from responsibilities, the soul that desperately needed to feel that indescribable feeling of vulnerability with another person.

denji, your favorite boy, a man who rapidly thrusts forward into your soddened hole, every few seconds pulling back to repeat the action. His toned pecs pressing against your chest,smushing you under him entirely. yellowish brown eyes now teary as they bore into yours, a pink tint covering his whole body, his pink lips parting to begin with and plead for you to never leave his side. gently as ever taking his face into your hands you’d whisper against his lips “i-i won’t leave you, ever. never wi-nghhll.. never more..” you dreamily sighed before pecking them multiple times. to which would cause his hips to stutter at your sweetened tone and even sweeter words. still energetically pushing his length into your confined gummy walls reaching a soft hand down to toy with the stiffened nub below.

staring in awe as you unravel underneath his toned body, the sweetest cries spewing from your mouth. “s-sososo pretty..” he’d whine “how the fuh-fuck did i get so lucky mmnghh..” he whimper feeling himself spill into your welcoming warmth. it slowly trickled out of your battered hole, soiling the fresh linen sheets below you. still panting from the intense orgasms as he lied atop of you. nuzzling his face into your hair, occasionally placing soft kisses on your head. gently grazing against his back,”i was serious about what i said denji.. never gonna leave you. promise.” you whispered into his shoulder before pressing a honeyed kiss against it.

he realized.. you were his sense of belonging, you were that person who made him feel normal, feel loved. You let him be vulnerable at times like this when he needed you to let him. Why did it take so long to realize what he’s been searching for all of his sorrowful life has been sent to him like a well earned blessing from the highest God of all. you parted your lips again, he was sure that you “i love you, denji.” were his raison d’être.

an: do yall want the angst version of this !?!? lmk but idek what possed me to write this sappy stuff but it’s cuteeee right? (say it’s cute now.) love yalllllll !!!

previous item on the menu: watching fireworks on a balcony while getting back shots

© arminslovurr 2023-24, do not copy, translate or alter my work in any way.

[cinna-creme]

katsuki making an absolute mess of you until you’re shaking and leaking before kirishima comes home and then he holds you open for kiri to clean you up with his mouth <33