I wish we could sometimes love the characters in real life as we love the characters in romances. There are a great many human souls whom we should accept more kindly, and even appreciate more clearly, if we simply thought of them as people in a story.
- G.K. Chesterton
notes: aaaah he’s finally here!!! happy belated halloween everyone!! i hope you all enjoy carnival attendant!dabi and, as always, please heed the warnings below! | title credit: bad habits by delaney jane
warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, rough sex, dangerous sex, public sex, minimal prep, dubcon, drugs, reader has long hair, overstimulation, degradation/dumbification, praise, marking, fingering, size difference/size kink, dacryphilia
words: 8.8k
synopsis:
Because despite the fact that you’re in the middle of an empty carnival and on a moving ride, there is something distinctly intimate about the entire encounter, found in the way his hands hold you close, palms curled protectively around your waist, fingertips signing his name, staking his claim, in blossoms of blues and purples into your flesh as they grip you tightly; in the way his forehead stays pressed flush to yours irregardless of the vicious motions of the boat, kisses messy and inept as teeth clack and click and chip against each other, wild giggles and half-baked sobs sucked from one throat into another; in the way his eyes glitter with the lights of the midway, sapphire amplified by fuchsia and crimson, neons that bleed into his irises and tint them violet and periwinkle.
he pulls his cock out, the weight making it slap against his stomach as he rubs your clit with his thumb, biting back a grin as he watches your legs shake and liquid spray the sheets.
“fuck me,” you cry, hips twitching away from him.
he shushes you, clearly mocking you, but you have nothing to say to him. your brain is mush—giving him full reign on whatever he wanted to do with you.
and nanami wants to make you feel good.
he flips you onto your back, hands pressing against the backs of your thighs before he pushes back in.
your cunt squelches with each thrust and you have half a mind to feel embarrassed at how intently he’s staring at your hole.
“asshole, stop staring.” you manage through your moans, swatting at his face in an attempt to get him to look somewhere else.
(part of you was trying to get him more worked up)
because nanami always fucks you too good, but now you’re greedy—just wanting more and more and more.
nanami knows this—he knows he spoils you too much, but he can’t find it in him to care when he knows he’s just as bad.
“hands off, gorgeous,” he mumbles, “behave.”
nanami leans down, your ankles dangling over his shoulders as his lips brush against yours. you know it’s a reminder that he loves you so dearly.
he kisses both your cheeks, hands cupping your face before pressing his lips against yours.
when he pulls away from you, he runs a hand down your side, thumb inching close to your cunt.
you shake your head, knowing what he’s going to do. “no clit, ken—fuuuuck!”
“shhh, i know what you like, love.” he replies, groaning lowly when your cunt pushes him out, liquid splashing against his groin.
nanami moans, low and guttural as he rubs his cock on your cunt, letting you ride out your orgasm. “shit, ‘m cummin’ baby.”
hot cum spurts out of his dick, landing on your tummy. you whine, pupils morphing into hearts at how thick his cum is, but more so at how his cock is still rock hard.
“need you to cum in me, please,” you beg, hand sliding down your body to part your folds. his dick twitches, eyes almost rolling back when he shoves himself back in.
with your head shoved into the pillow, your hand reaches back, lightly pushing at his stomach.
“mmph—give me a second, ohh—”
eyes rolling back into your head, you hand drops as he swings his hips harder, relentlessly prodding at that one spot in your cunt.
“kento!” you squeal, voice muffled and legs shaking, “i’m gonna cum again!”
he shushes you softly, a hand running down the curve of your ass. “i know baby, it’s okay.”
you shake your head, “‘m gonna die, ken—”
he laughs, watching your body shake in tandem with your orgasm. he’s holding your hips in place and he continues, pace never faltering. “you’re okay, sweet girl. just focus on feeling good.”
nanami leans down, kissing your temple. feeling his weight on you makes you drool, the warmth of his body addicting.
“more, please,” you slur, body flattening on the mattress. kento pulls out momentarily, pushing your legs together and sliding a pillow under your tummy before pushing back in.
“fuck!” you cry, hands pulling at his sheets, “fuck you!”
his weight presses you into the mattress. his teeth biting lightly at your ear. “one more baby, come on.”
“cumming ‘m cummin’, you—fuuuckk—”
“yeah,” he groans, feeling your cunt clench around him. he thinks he’s gonna lose his mind. sloppily kissing your cheek, his hand reaches up to grab your jaw, “you’re gonna make me cum sweet girl—where do you want it?”
“inside, please, i need it so bad.” you whine, turning your head to kiss him.
“you’re gonna kill me,” he mumbles, thrusting with a different fervour before dropping most of his weight on you, groaning in your ear.
“take it, baby, ‘s all yours.” you moan as you feel him filling you up, eyes almost crossing at the feeling.
nanami rolls off you momentarily, tucking your hair behind your ear and watching you catch your breath. he breathes out a chuckle, “so dramatic, you asked for this, remember?”
you try faking a frown but fail, your lips forming into a smirk instead. “what if i ask for it again?”
a hand playfully swats the swell of your ass, “you don’t know what you’re asking for, beautiful.”
loser-könig who eats pussy for the first time, slobbering all over himself, and cumming all in his boxers before you're even nearing your first orgasm.
he'll get insecure and aggressive, huffing and puffing as he forces his cum-soaked boxers into your wet mouth, stuffing your little mouth to stifle your moans as he jerks off to the sight of your glistening pussy — no longer stimulating your sensitive clit through bitterness and embarrassment, instead getting off and forcing you to stare at his bulbous, glossy and leaking cock against your heat whilst he strokes himself gently.
loser-könig who will hump you 24/7, ‘til he's squirting hot strings of his milky release all over his boxers, covering himself, and your panties, in his white arousal. you're squirming against his firm grip as he buries his fingers deep inside your pretty pussy, swollen folds and your clit overstimulated, getting you off whilst drooling against your bare neck like a weirdo.
loser-könig who humps your pillow whilst flicking through porn magazines, rubbing his hung and throbbing dick against the soft sheets, his balls heavy and full with his white cum, spurted all over your pillow as he gets off to the pornography.
loser-könig who tries to get you to re-enact some pornos with him, but he'll end up forgetting what he's supposed to be doing, hammering into you brutally!
notes: eeee first choso piece ever!!! i had such a blast writing this and i wish i could’ve gotten it finished in time for christmas but alas! anyway, please enjoy this and as always please heed the warnings below and stay safe! | title credit: girl like me by dove cameron
warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, pseudocest (reader + choso are family friends), age gap, bratty reader, rough sex, minimal prep, teasing, hints of manipulation, hints of dubcon, size kink, pet names
words: 6k
synopsis:
“Maybe you should stop calling me that.”
“What? Why?” you pout, blinking up at him, sugared innocence coating your tone. “I thought you wanted me to call you big brother…I thought I was allowed to…”
“Bi-Big brothers don’t do stuff like this with their little sisters—”
“Well, it’s a good thing we’re not actually related then, isn’t it, onii-chan.”
Choso can’t remember the last time he saw you.
You’ve known each other for a long time—so long Choso’s lost count of the years, now, having met you when Yuuji was just a toddler (and you were, too) at the bus stop on Yuuji’s first day of Pre-K, only to discover you lived a mere few houses from each other—but you haven’t seen each other in a long time, too.
It’s not through fault of either of you; life had gotten in the way, as it has a tendency to do so, had grown busy with intricacies and obligations that demanded time and attention, tangling around you and keeping you apart.
You had both embarked on university endeavours; him pursuing his PhD, you continuing your undergrad, had both stuffed more and more into your lives—art shows and book readings and music festivals and tropical trips—and lost space for each other in the process.
Choso can’t remember the last time he saw you, but it feels as though no time has passed at all, as it normally does with family—you’re still just as bratty as you’ve always been (some things never change, he guesses; some things you’ll never grow out of, he supposes).
Family.
Family is not a word he uses lightly, but you and yours had quickly become his and theirs, had quickly become ours, morphing from neighbours to friends to practically kin, members mixing to form something special, a hybrid of some sort, stuck somewhere between long-standing family friends and blood relatives.
Which is why how you’re acting—how you’ve been acting, this entire winter break—is so undeniably inappropriate.
And although he’s lost track of the years, everything beginning to blur together, to melt and flow and shift and breathe, he still remembers the day he told you to call him onii-chan.
That he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget.
Yuuji’s so lucky, you had pouted, kicking at the sandy ground with the toe of your shoe and swaying a little on the swing. He has a big brother. I don’t. I’ve always wished I had one. Sighing, you looked away, fingers tangling in the chain. But I’ll never get one; it’s impossible.
It’s not impossible, Choso had responded gently, nudging his swing against your own. I’ll be your big brother, if you want.
And you—well, you had been so incredibly happy, all bright smiles and sunshine eyes and breathless giggles, to have a big brother to call your own.
Never in his life did he think he’d come to regret such a decision.
But you seem to be on a mission to make him, this Christmas.
Because you’re really testing his fucking patience, this Christmas.
The term of endearment oozes from your lips as if it’s melted in the wet heat of your mouth every single time, always paired with your worst behaviour: bending over in those short, sweet, slutty skirts and flashing cute Christmas panties at him; placing a hand much too high to be appropriate on his thigh as you watch a film together, leaning close to his ear to murmur out a silky question you already know the answer to; twining your ankles with his beneath the dinner table and gazing at him with eyes full of sin, leaning so far forward on the table that your tits swell, nearly spilling from the too-low neckline of your dress, then giggling when you catch him ogling.
As a result, he’s been meticulous about avoiding being alone in a room with you—he doesn’t trust himself, doesn’t trust what he might do, especially if you start playing your little games—but he should’ve known it would only be a matter of time until you get want you want.
Because it always is.
And on Christmas Eve, you finally succeed.
Somehow, you’ve managed to get him alone in his childhood bedroom—something about wanting to flip through his old sketchbooks, to search for some doodles he had drawn for you many years ago, to rip the pages from the spiral-bound spine and stuff them in your back pocket, for safekeeping, you had claimed.
Tugging at his heartstrings, that’s how you succeeded.
Sitting on the edge of his small twin bed, thighs slotted up against one another and both of your arms looped around one of his, he flips through the curling pages of his drawings, smudged with graphite and pastels.
“Oh, I remember this one!”
A dainty finger points to a cute kitten sketched out in astonishing detail, with a pink nose and a satin ribbon tied in a bow around its neck.
“It’s you,” he smirks. “You asked me what animal you’d be, and then demanded I draw you as a kitten when I responded with a cat.”
“You drew a lot of me,” you lean forward, swelling breasts pressed flush to his bicep, a palm sitting high on his thigh as avid eyes scan over the spread, gaze stuttering as it sweeps from doodle to doodle.
“I drew a lot for you,” he says, the observation entirely unthinking. “You wanted a specific page, but I might as well give you this whole sketchbook. More than half the pieces in here are for you.”
It’s a fact that shocks him in its authenticity, a realization that sends a painful, sick thrill searing through his body, saliva beginning to collect in the dips beneath his tongue.
“I’m such a lucky girl,” you hum out in a sigh, nuzzling your cheek into his arm and looking up at him with shimmering eyes. “I have such a good big brother.”
“You’re spoiled,” he says, but his voice holds no malice, eyes softening as he stares down at you, a small smile on his lips.
“I dunno about that,” you frown, but mischief glints in your eye. “You haven’t really given me what I’ve wanted all holiday…”
Blood turns to shards of ice in his veins, whole body going rigid as his breath stalls in his throat, pounding heartbeat reverberating in his ears.
“Wh-What’s that?”
He doesn’t want to ask it, doesn’t mean to ask it, but the question claws at his tongue, pries past his teeth and tumbles from his lips in a ragged, tangled heap.
And the smile that spreads across your face is nothing short of sinister, that glint flaring to a sharp shine as your pupils breathe, pulse, swallow him whole.
“A Christmas kiss,” you say, stare unblinking and intense as your hand slips between his legs, rubbing little circles into his inner thigh, a mere centimetre or two away from his cock.
The motion makes him jolt, hips involuntarily twitching toward your touch, brushing his half-hard cock against your knuckles.
“That’s all I want,” you sigh almost dreamily, tits pressed harder into his bicep as you lean closer, so tight they’re practically being squeezed from your sweetheart neckline. “A kiss from my onii-chan. Though…”
Trailing off, your hand slides up a little further, pinky and ring finger tiptoeing along the rapidly hardening lump in his jeans, squealing out a short giggle as it jumps beneath your touch.
“I’m not sure that’s all onii-chan wants.”
“Onii-chan doesn’t want anything from you,” he breathes out, but his voice is rough, unconvincing, his hands curled into firm fists on his bedspread, trembling slightly, skin stretched taut across pointed knuckles.
“Another lie,” your lips tug down, voice saturated with disappointment. “You know, good big brothers don’t lie to their siblings,” you fix him with a look, glaring through feathery lashes, expression teetering dangerously on the edges of a pout.
A shiver skitters through his bones, whole body stiffening. His jaw flexes as he grinds his molars, a slow, controlled breath exhaled out his nose, his eyes flicking down. You’re still touching him, two fingertips rubbing gentle circles into his clothed cock.
“Maybe you should stop calling me that.”
“What? Why?” you pout, blinking up at him, sugared innocence coating your tone. “I thought you wanted me to call you big brother…I thought I was allowed to…”
“Bi-Big brothers don’t do stuff like this with their little sisters—”
“Well, it’s a good thing we’re not actually related then, isn’t it, onii-chan.”
“That—That—” he swallows hard, dense saliva pooling at the back of his tongue. “That doesn’t matter—We shouldn’t—”
“But—” your lip juts out further, forehead crinkling. “But I want to.”
You can’t always get what you want.
That’s what he wants to tell you. That’s what he wishes he could tell you. But it just isn’t fucking true, when it comes to you.
“Stop,” he says instead, and although it’s supposed to be an order, it comes out as a plead, his voice hoarse, strained, thin, the proclamation high and false and tinny.
“You’re a terrible liar,” the tip of your index finger traces the head, looking up at him through your lashes. “Did you know that?”
He does, he does know that. He’s a terrible liar, eyes too honest, voice too sincere, expressions too candid, always giving away his true intentions and forthright thoughts.
He’s a terrible discipliner, too, incapable of saying no, of refusing his siblings anything. You know this, too.
“St—” he tries to force the word from his tongue again, protest sticking in his throat. Stop, stop, he wants you to stop, he needs you to stop, please.
But that’s a lie, too, the rejection refusing to take shape, to mold into something audible, something tangible, something worthwhile.
No matter how much he wishes it were true, he can’t will it to become true—not when he wants this just as badly as you do, his straining cock exposing his real desires to you.
You’ve already taken full notice of it, yearning for you through rough denim, hot and hard and throbbing. The pad of your finger rubs over the slit in rhythmic motions, smooth and gliding, aided by the copious amount of pre-cum oozing through the material, and it jerks beneath your touch, eager for more attention.
“It’s so hard, onii-chan,” your hand cups the impressive bulge, rolling it in your palm, a girlish giggle tickling your tongue. “It—It’s throbbing, onii-chan.”
“Yeah? And who’s fault is that?” he breathes, attempting to keep his tone stern and his eyes stony.
“It’s making me want to ride it,” you whimper loudly, squeezing your thighs together, completely ignoring his question. “Oh, please, onii-chan, can I ride your cock?”
“Fu-fuck,” the curse breaks on his tongue, eyes shut tightly, breaking away from your invasive stare. “Fuck, fuck, f-fuck.”
No.
“I’d really like to ride it, onii-chan.”
No.
“Can I? Pretty please?”
No-no-no-no-no!
He wants to say no. He should say no. It’s the right thing to do.
He’s the older brother, the eldest brother, it’s his duty to say no, to mentor, to lead by example.
But he can’t.
He can’t form the word in his throat, can’t mold it into a sound and push it from his mouth.
He’s never truly been able to, when it comes to you—and he was so fucking stupid to think he would.
Because, as always, you are making it exceptionally difficult to deny, gazing up at him with shimmering eyes like that, mouth licked raw in anticipation, bottom lip bitten puffy from the front teeth constantly sinking into it.
“I—It isn’t right—” he attempts, swallowing thickly, cords in his neck straining, desperately attempting to quell the tremor in his voice.
He knows you don’t care. If he’s being entirely honest with himself, he doesn’t, either, his morality eroded to nothing more than a farce, a thin façade, not nearly strong enough to force him into doing the right thing, not nearly strong enough to fortify his rapidly waning self-discipline.
“I—I won’t tell,” you whimper, and he can see the fine film of tears lacquering your eyes, shielding lust-blown pupils. “Pinky promise! I just—I just want you so badly,” your nose twitches cutely with a sniffle, your bottom lip beginning to waver with infinitesimal quivers, soft palm caressing his cock like you love it. “Please, onii-chan?”
And Christ, you’re so pretty, so pouty, with your glistening puppy-dog eyes and pleads dripping from your lips like thick syrup.
How could he possibly say no to something so precious? How could anyone?
“Alright,” he whispers, defeated, eyes squeezing shut as he nods. “If it’ll make you happy.”
“Really?”
And just like that, the tears are incinerated from your eyes, gaze bright and blazing with excitement, lips molded into a brilliant smile.
You look so sickeningly beautiful when you get what you want.
“Yes,” he nearly whimpers, and it’s pathetic, his hips twitching up into your touch, craving, desperate. “Yes, yes, ride my cock.”
The affirmative is all you need, squealing a little with happiness as you climb into his lap, fingers up your own skirt to push your soaked panties to the side, other hand pawing clumsily at his waistband.
“Thank you,” you breathe, the words soaking into his neck, sealed with a sloppy kiss. “Oh, thank you, onii-chan.”
He can’t help but chuckle a little as his hands find your waist, instinctive, steadying you.
“Eager little thing, aren’t you.”
“This is all I want,” you tell him, pulling back a little to search his face. “S’all I’ve wanted for a long time.”
He wants to ask you to elaborate on that, confusion warping his brow, but then you’re yanking at his belt loops and pulling at his zipper and wrapping a soft palm around the base of his cock, a heavy groan vibrating in his throat.
“Wait, wait!” he chokes on a gasp as you hover over his cock, head bumping against your hole. “Let me—”
“I don’t wanna wait,” you whine out, petulant and stringy, whole face scrunched in frustration. “I’ve been waiting! I want your cock in me now!”
Fuck, you’re such a fucking brat, he’s growling as he forces you down on his cock in one swift motion, the sudden intrusion pushing a yelp from your lips. Your forehead knocks against his, sugar-stained breath wafting across his face, his tongue darting out to mop up remnants from his mouth.
It’s really cute, the way your little cunt spasms around his shaft as he bottoms out, pressed snug and tight against your cervix, desperate in its attempt to adjust to his girth. It’s really sweet, the way your body splits itself open for him, cracking at the core and struggling to swallow him down.
“Oh, it’s so big, onii-chan!”
“God,” he nearly sobs. “You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me, y’know that?”
Giggling, you wind your arms around his neck tighter, nuzzling your cheek into his skin, then stringing a garland of wet kisses along the line of his jaw.
“S’really thick, Choso-nii,” you tell him honestly, nodding in lethargic little motions. “I feel so full, onii-chan.”
A laugh falls from his lips, breathy and exalted.
“I don’t know if it’s that I’m big, or if it’s just that your cunt is so fucking small,” his voice tapers off into a whine, raspy and gruff.
“H-Hurts a little, onii-chan,” you admit in a whimper, hips shifting in experimental little movements, conjuring a groan from deep within his chest.
“Yeah? And who’s fault is that, huh?” he asks for the second time in fifteen minutes. “Who was too impatient to let onii-chan prep her?”
“Don’t care,” you mumble. “Wanted you s’bad.”
He laughs again, warm and gentle and full of love, his hands squeezing your hips just enough to make you gasp, fingertips pressing his name into your flesh in blotchy little ovals of purple.
“You have me,” he says, his words ringing clear and true with a painful sincerity.
The vibrations of your responding hum seep from your chest into his, and he sighs, body deflating against yours, pleasant little tingles snuggling between his ribs.
You stay like that for a moment to two, wound up in one another, chests pressed flush, breathing as one. Your auras ebb and flow, presences bleeding, tangling together and creating something that is neither one nor the other but both, a single shared entity.
And it’s nice, it’s real, it’s natural.
But then you become impatient, as you normally do, as he knew you would, wiggling a little in his lap, fingers twining in the strands at the base of his neck.
“Go on, sweetheart,” he urges gently. “Ride onii-chan’s cock.”
And so you do, hips beginning to roll in slow, languid circles, fingers still laced at the back of his skull, half-buried in messy ink.
He allows you to set the pace, allows you to take your time, allows you to enjoy and savour every rock and grind and bounce, staring at you through heavily lidded eyes, hands on your waist merely guiding you—keeping you stable, just like a big brother should.
He’s absolutely breathtaking; gaze glittering in the dim light overflowing with awe, spit-slicked lips licked raw and shimmering as his tongue glides over them again, swollen and bitten cherry red.
You can’t help but reach out to trace his features; the strong line of his brow, the delicate curve of his cheek, the enticing bow of his lips, hips slowing to uneven little ruts as you hone your focus, his eyes observing you with a sick sort of fascination.
“Did you—Have you—Have you thought about this before?”
The question stings his tongue, revulsion flushing through his blood as guilt pricks his flesh, his cock throbbing eagerly.
“Course I have,” you breathe out with a little laugh, as if he’s so silly for thinking you might not have. “Actually, I—I—”
A sudden shyness overtakes you, an unsure giggle on your lips fading into a soft squeal as you hide in his shoulder, shaking your head a little.
“What? Huh?” he shrugs, nudging your face up gently, curiosity clawing at his irises as they search your face, voracious. “What?”
“Well, sometimes I…”
The words tangle in your throat and you choke on them, gaze fleeing his own, and you shake your head again, chest beginning to stammer.
“It’s okay,” he says softly, rubbing reassuring circles into your flesh. “You can tell onii-chan, go on.”
There are tears in your eyes now, mouth wobbling a little with the verging confession, and God, that’s so hot, why is that so fucking hot?
“Where’s my brave little sister gone now? Hmm?”
“M’right here, onii-chan,” you whisper, face teetering on a wince, as if you’re bracing for a blow, terrified to admit to him, fearing reprimand. “It’s just that—Sometimes I do, um, really bad things with my stuffies while—while thinking about you…”
Dewdrops of shame glitter in your lashes as your lids flutter, nose scrunching with a soft sniffle, tears breaking free of their wispy confines to roll down your cheeks in fat, glimmering streams—so fucking beautiful in the dim light of his bedroom—but you don’t dare break his stare, gazing at him through a thick shield of water.
“Oh, Christ,” he coughs on the curse, hands flexing on your waist, blunt nails digging into your skin. “And what—what do you think about?”
“Um,” your gaze flits from his own, to his wrinkled bedspread, then back to his face, wide and honest. “Riding you, like this. And—And riding your thighs, makin’ a real mess all over them, and your thick fingers too, filling me up…”
Bolts of dizziness sear his brain as his lungs deflate, oxygen eaten up by pure lust and leaving his chest buzzing, burning, some sort of response mangling itself in his throat, escaping his lips as nothing more than a cracked moan.
“Do you think about me, onii-chan?”
Your question pulls him from the depths of his hedonism and he blinks, your face swimming into view, a peculiar mix of hope and cognizance infusing your expression, eyebrows raised with false curiosity, a smirk twitching on your lips.
Ah, there she is, that brat he knows so well, that brat he’s come to crave, every ounce of uncertainty eradicated from your face, replaced with assured confidence, contradicting the tears still staining your cheeks.
You fucking know he does.
And, oh, how he wishes he was stronger, how he wishes he could lie, how he wishes he could devour the smugness in your eyes and complacency in your smile, to humble you, to knock you from your high throne.
He settles for a kiss instead, mouth crushed to yours as a large hand cups your head, thumb pressing into your ear, fingertips dragging across your scalp as he yanks you closer.
It hurts, his front teeth scraping against your lip as he practically gnaws his way to your tongue, his own big and thick and so fucking strong as it overwhelms yours, shoving it further into the cavern of your mouth and forcing it to stay put as he explores.
He’s making a real mess as he slathers over your molars, over the inside of your cheeks and the backs of your teeth, drenching your mouth in him. Drool oozes steadily from the corners, collecting along the underside of his bottom lip and leaving his chin sticky and slick.
“Yes,” he whispers, eyes shut so tightly his whole forehead crinkles, mouth wet and sliding against your own. “Yes, yes, I think about you—much too often.”
Nose nudging yours, he nuzzles into your face a little, planting a chaste kiss to your lips, then peppering a few more, quick and sloppy, around your mouth.
“But right now, I don’t want to think about anything. I just want to feel you creaming all over my cock—you think you can do that for me, princess?” His palms cushion your cheeks, thumbs swiping across your cheekbones, then brushing strands of damp hair from your temples. “You think you can do that for your onii-chan?”
Yes you can, of course you can, you’re nodding, blinking the last remnants of tears from your eyes, rapid movement eliminating the final stubborn drops, clinging delicately to your outer lashes.
“S’it, baby,” he encourages as your hips start moving again, working up a steady rhythm. “Just like that, good girl.”
A mewl slips from your lips, burrowing your scalding face in his sticky neck again, his undivided attention almost too much to bear.
“Like it when you call me a good girl,” you murmur, lips dragging across his skin with the confession, streaking him with thick glimmers of spit.
“Is that so?” he laughs a little, pressing a few kisses to the crown of your head. “That’s because you don’t hear it often.”
Lifting your head, you scowl at him, though there’s no heat to your glare, fury dimmed by fondness, unable to smother the smile playing with your lips.
A dazzling smile spreads across his own face in response, and he laughs again, his eyes so bright, so brilliant they almost hurt, blazing like two small suns, scorching your skin as his gaze glides over it.
He watches you like a man possessed, a man obsessed, entirely entranced by the way pleasure passes over your face, twisting your features into the cutest little winces as you grind the head of his cock against your cervix, then smoothing them out with bliss as his shaft drags along your favourite spot, bouncing in shallow little motions to rub over that fleshy patch hard and fast, a stream of mewls spilling from your lips, stitched together with his honorific.
“You’re so pretty when you ride my cock,” he groans, words tapering off into a hoarse whimper, as if it pains him to admit it.
His palms run up your sides, fingers counting over each rib, hands committing every dip and curve and bulge to memory, marvelled by the way you fill his grip, as if he can’t believe you’re real, you’re here, you’re his—even if just for tonight.
“Yeah, yeah, keep going, use onii-chan like a toy, sweetheart.”
And he tries to be patient, he swears he does—tries not to rush you, tries to relish in the moment, in each swirl of your hips and every puff of his name—except your pace never accelerates, never moves past anything but teasing as you use his now aching cock to continually edge yourself; moans building higher and higher, louder and louder, on the cusp of the crest before they disintegrate into nothing and you start the process all over again, the delicate fluttering of your cunt enough to drive him fucking insane with desire.
It has his entire form trembling with such vigour it’s quivering the mattress, muscles locked stiff and tight as he tries to keep from moving, from bucking up wildly, from forcing you to speed the hell up. Rough fingers sink into your flesh so deep it dimples, a pathetic attempt to ground himself, rapidly blooming bruises staining your flesh.
But he’s powerless to stifle the whines leaking through the gaps of his gritted teeth, hands flexing on your hips, whole body pulled taut with restraint.
He’s sure you can feel his cock twitching inside of you, eager and impatient, begging you to move faster, to fuck him harder.
But you aren’t going to do any of that—not unless he asks for it, he realizes dimly, after you bring yourself to near orgasm for the third time in a row, giggling a little at his crestfallen expression, his hair having fallen almost completely from its trademark spiky buns, braided fishermen sweater soaked with sweat and sticking to his now heaving chest.
He really thought it was real this time. He really thought you were finally going to cream all over him, so he could finally flip you over and fuck you properly, pound you into the mattress and stuff that pretty, cute little cunt to the goddamn brim with his seed.
He’d been trying so hard to be nice, to be the loving, doting, good big brother he is—but he’s also only human, and there’s only so much misbehaviour he can bear before, finally, he snaps.
Because, sure, big brothers are meant to care for, to lead and to nurture, but they’re also meant to teach, to punish, to put bratty little sisters back in their fucking place.
“You think I don’t know what you’re doing? Huh?” his grip on your hips tightens, halting you from moving. “You think I’m fucking stupid?”
“Never, Choso-nii,” you gasp, astonished. “I would never—”
Sincerity rings in your voice, but he can see it, the mischief tugging at the corners of your mouth, barely suppressed by your façade of innocence.
Anyone else would’ve been fooled—enchanted by your doe eyes and your dainty voice.
But not him.
No, he knows better now.
“Bullshit,” he cuts you off, eyes narrowed sharply. “You wanted to ride my cock, but you’re clearly incapable of it—”
“No I’m not!”
“—So it looks like I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”
“No! I—I can do it!” you cry, face crumpled in fury, nails scrabbling at his shoulders.
“You lost your chance to prove it to me,” he growls.
The world flips suddenly, momentarily a blur of inks and ivories, a breath of surprise punched from your ribs as your back slams against the mattress, trapped between the bedspread and your big brother’s heaving chest.
“You have been testing me all fucking holiday,” he snarls, specks of spit splattering across your cheeks. “Onii-chan shouldn’t give you his cum—onii-chan shouldn’t have given you his cock at all!”
A certain type of haughtiness corrodes your shock, lips spreading into a pompous smirk.
“Oh, but you just couldn’t help yourself, could you, onii-chan.”
“You little bitch!”
His hips shove forward, forcing you further into the plush of the mattress, cockhead ramming against your cervix. A little noise of pain vibrates on the back of your tongue, shattering your arrogance, and a grin smears across his face, glinting in the moonlight.
“I think it’s time your big brother teach you a lesson in respect.”
“Y-Yeah? And how are you gonna do that?”
“You’re going to take what onii-chan gives you, and you’re going to fucking like it. And then, at the end, when you’ve gone stupid from the cock you don’t deserve, you’re going to thank me for giving it to you at all. Do you understand me?”
Defiance shines in your eyes, lacquered by a thin coating of tears, nose scrunching up in a glower.
A rough thumb and forefinger, hardened by charcoals, clamps around your jaw, squeezing your cheeks with such force that your mouth puckers, a sticky little whine squealing in your throat.
“Do you understand me?” he asks again, each word said slow with purpose, each word annunciated with intent, his eyes boring into yours, sharp and painful.
Finally, those tears push past your bloated lashes, shoved from your eyes by rapid blinking and rolling down your cheeks in glistening pairs, a half-stifled hiccup stuttering your chest.
“Y-Yes,” you whisper, nose twitching.
“What was that? Onii-chan couldn’t hear you.”
“Yes, onii-chan.”
“Good girl.”
And then his hips are snapping, hard and fast and immediate, fucking into you with such ruthlessness that it jostles your body up the bed, sheets collecting in little wrinkled bunches beneath you. Your nails sink into his shoulders, piercing flesh through the knit of his sweater, the muscles in your thighs tensing as your ankles hook around his waist, his shirt riding up, your heels digging into the those cute little dimples that cushion the base of his spine.
It hurts, every pound of his cock producing a dull, throbbing ache low and deep in your gut, another torrent of tears rushing to flood your vision.
“Ch-Choso-nii, Ch-Choso-nii,” you whimper, face screwed up in pain, his name stuttered by his rapid thrusts.
“What’s the matter?” he pouts, and it’s so condescending, dripping from his lips in an over-exaggerated coo. “Can’t take onii-chan’s cock?”
The question wafts across your face in a panted breath and you lick at your lips, sopping it up with your tongue.
“N-No,” you say, and that telltale brattiness is back, watered down by his viciousness. “I can do it—I-I can do it for you, onii-chan.”
A throaty curse escapes his lips, thrusts stammering out of rhythm for a moment as his cock twitches, and a helpless giggle bubbles up in your throat.
Even angry, he’s still so fucking easy.
He regains his composure quickly, though, face hardened to stone but beginning to splinter with pleasure.
“Brat,” he breathes out, though there’s mirth shining in his eyes, pure and fond and full of love. “You better.”
And even angry, he still sounds so fucking pretty; cracked moans and dense groans and choked gasps, all flowing from his mouth in a single stream, fractured by the piston of his hips.
The pain doesn’t fade, of course—it barely diminishes at all, the sheer massiveness of his cock making it near impossible to be dispelled, keeping the cramping pang in the pit of your belly steady and constant—but it does amplify the pleasure, nerves gnawed raw by the agony, left hypersensitive to the sparks of ecstasy that blaze through your veins with every quick, rough pump of his hips, every deep, hard slam against your bruised cervix, every rapid drag over that engorged spot.
It leaves you feeling high, leaves you feeling stupid, brain melting in a hot haze of lust and rendering you incapable of forming a single coherent thought beyond how incredible his cock is, his name and his title the only two things your sloppy, numb tongue can fully scrape together.
It’s all so much, too much, but it all feels so fucking good—s’good, Choso-nii, y’r so-so good—sentiment vibrating indistinctly in your chest.
“Yeah, sweetheart?” he asks, words gone wispy, fading into a whine. “Does your onii-chan’s cock make you feel good?”
Yes, yes, yes, onii-chan, it’s so good, you’re so good!
Your head nods frantically, fingers curling in the collar of his sweater, a mess of affirmatives fucked from your mouth.
“Y’know, you’re kinda cute when you’re too cockdrunk to misbehave,” he chuckles a little, biting back a moan as your cunt clenches at the compliment. “May-Maybe onii-chan should fuck you stupid more often, huh?”
Oh, God, yes, onii-chan; oh, please, onii-chan!
“Yeah, you’d like that a bit too much, though, wouldn’t you, you little sl—ah—slut.”
Drool dribbles from the sides of your mouth as you continue nodding, eyes wide and unblinking, encrusted with stars.
“Y’so pretty, onii-chan,” you manage to mumble out, sentiment tangled in threads of spit, fingers flexing in the fabric of his sweater, as if they yearn to touch but can’t find the strength to carry out the action.
And he is, so beautiful it’s borderline sickening, strands of onyx plastered to his cheeks, his jaw, his neck, strung together in clumps and saturated in sweat; damp skin glittering in the waning moonlight spilling through the slits of his window, dewdrops catching delicately in the beams as he pounds into you, every drive of his cock accelerating his pace.
“W-Wan’your cum now,” you slur the demand through a lax pout, lids beginning to weight with exhaustion, heavy as they frame dopey eyes.
“Yeah?” he laughs a little, gaze shining with adoration, and it’s breathless, it’s beautiful, his affection wafting over your scalding face. “Onii-chan needs you to cream all over his cock first. Can you—” a grunt cuts him off, and he whimpers, pushing through his sentence, his voice strained. “Can y’do that for me, angel?”
“Uh-huh, uh—uh-huh,” your head begins nodding more fervently again, pushing your lids open with some effort to stare up at him, pupils swelling with devotion and determination.
“Then show me—Show me how gorgeous my good girl looks when she’s making a mess all over her big brother’s cock.”
Three more thrusts and your cunt is obeying, convulsing on his thick shaft as heat gushes around him, so much that you can hear it—a sick, slick squelching as he jackhammers into you, your essence coating his thighs in a shiny layer of arousal.
“Oh, fuck,” his eyes shut tightly before springing open again, suddenly rabid, ravenous.
The bed creaks as his hips speed up, skin sticky with arousal as it slaps against your own, the sharp sound mingling with his ragged pants and your hitched mewls.
“Onii—Nii-chan,” you nearly wail, fingers tangling weakly in the hair at the nape of his neck, nails scraping against his flesh. “Please, please, cum, gimme—gimme y’r cum!”
“Greedy little thing,” he rasps out, voice cracking into a whine.
But you don’t care, you can’t care, pleads spilling from your lips as your thighs tense around his waist, hips twitching in erratic little motions, crudely trying to fuck yourself on him.
“Need it, need it, onii-chan, fill my belly with it, onii-chan, please!”
“Christ,” he chokes on the curse, pace faltering as he finally gives his baby sister what she wants, cock throbbing almost violently while it fills you with hot, thick cum, so much you swear you really can feel it, stuffing your belly as full as it can be, tummy bulging cutely with his seed.
You must tell him that, sentiment slipping from your lips without your permission, because he moans again, his cock giving another weak spurt, hips stuttering as he tries to fuck further into you, grinding the head into your sore cervix.
“Yeah, yeah,” you’re murmuring, hips rolling up to meet his own. “Push it into me, onii-chan, push it into my cunt nice n deep, do-don’t waste a single drop!”
“You really are gonna be the death of me,” he whines, face buried in your hair as he collapses on top of you, hips still moving in lazy little circles, shudders of overstimulation rippling through his form.
“Mm,” you hum, on the cusp of unconsciousness, nuzzling your face into his neck like a kitten, then lapping at a few droplets of sweat streaming down the column. “What are lil sisters for?”
mdni; threesome, anal, dp, creampie, brief spanking, pet names (princess, angel, baby), female reader, spit. based on this - i wrote this in like 20 minutes, not proofread. (1.4k)
It's the debauchery of it, the downright sinfulness of it. It should be wrong, it should feel wrong and yet; it feels right. Too right.
Yuuji is your saving grace, a gentle caress when you're sprawled out against his chest. You're panting already, huffing against the skin between his throat and collarbone. He tucked you between his chin for what you assume was to keep you closer—but in reality, it's so he can get a better view of what's about to happen.
But it's Sukuna who is the devil on your shoulder, quite literally. His hands are larger than Yuujis, they slide along your sides, thumbs dipping into the length of your spine. You're so much smaller than him, so pliable—fuckable. It has him practically drooling over you, it's a situation he dreamt of. To have you pinned beneath him, willing and waiting.
His fingers are pressed deep inside of you, your ass taking him so well—it's downright filthy. You're mewling against Yuuji's skin, your saliva and hot breath making his skin sticky. Sukuna continues to lean over you, the length of his leaking cock pressed against the side of your thigh.
Yuuji was already buried deep inside of your cunt, seated so deeply that he could feel your walls contracting from how his fingers dragged back and forth inside of you. Yuuji's cock twitches when you squeeze around his length, pulling a moan from somewhere deep in his chest.
"Sukuna—" Yuuji chokes out, eyes rolling into the back of his head when you contract again around his cock. "She's ready, fuck, please."
"Is that right, princess? You ready for my cock?" Sukuna has to bite his bottom lip to stop himself from groaning when you work up the courage to glance over your shoulder at him, your hair is dishevelled from his earlier ministrations.
You nod, and it earns you a slap against your ass cheek. "Words, or you get nothing at all."
"Please, 'm ready." Your moan tapers off your words at the end, his fingers hooking upwards. "Need you."
Sukuna wouldn't deny you—or himself any further. His fingers withdraw with a squelch, the sight of you clenching around nothing finally does pull a groan from his throat. His cock is hot and heavy in his hand, the pre-cum that pearls at his tip glistens in the low light. He presses it against your puckered hole, thrusting his hips shallowly without entering you—he can see the visible agony it's causing you to not have him fuck you yet.
You've tucked yourself back against Yuuji's pec, your lips parted and drooling against him with a fucked out look on your face. With each slap of his cockhead against your rim, you jolt in pleasure and in turn, it's causing Yuuji to dig his fingers deeper into the fat of your hips and thrust up into your drooling cunt.
"If you don't—" Yuuji huffs, jaw working hard to grit his teeth and push through the urge to flood your insides. He shoots a heated glare over your head, the golden retriever no longer present and replaced with an impatient lust-driven mutt. It makes Sukuna snicker.
But he finally does take pity on the both of you, his cock presses into your ass slowly. Careful to not rush you through it, even if you push back against him. His fingers press against your ass, spreading you wide so he could watch your greedy hole suck him in until he's seated deep against your ass.
Yuuji lets out the most sinful of moans, his cock twitching harsh inside of your fluttering walls. Your own mouth is open in a silent scream, eyes shuttering with the sensation of being double stuffed. It's a feeling like none other, your ass alone was tight already but to be stuffed in both holes—it was nearly impossible to move.
Nearly.
It's Sukuna who moves first, setting a pace that Yuuji can counter with each thrust of his hips. One in, one out. Never empty. Your fingers curl into Yuuji's shoulders, your arms hooked beneath his whilst his arms wrap around you tightly to hold you snuggly to his chest like a lover would.
The pace quickens soon enough, encouraged by the subtle shift of your hips to meet Sukuna for each of his thrusts. His hands slip to grab ahold of your waist, large fingers digging into the dips there before he really sets a bruising pace. It has sweating beading along his hairline, eyes locked downwards to watch the way your ass takes him so well.
His lips part and the warmth of the spit against your ass has you moaning like a common whore into the skin of Yuuji's neck. You migrated there at some point, unable to keep still when someone slipped their fingers downwards to toy with your swollen clit.
"Fuck, who knew our little angel was such a whore." Sukuna hums his words, biting again on his bottom lip when the rich timbre of his voice has you squeezing unrelentingly around both lengths buried inside of you.
Yuuji rests his chin against the side of your head, his eyes half-lidded and peering along the length of your back to watch Sukuna fuck you. It would be easy to lose sense of who was who, but it was Yuuji holding you through it all, Yuuji who was rubbing his thumbs soothingly against your shoulders when his thrusts got more erratic; more demanding.
"Gonna let us cum in you, hm?" Surprisingly it's Yuuji who asks, his voice breathy when he settles his hips for a moment to feel you pulse and writhe against the pace Sukuna has set. "Please baby, let me cum in your sweet pussy."
"Please," you huff your words, working your hands out of the ironhold you had on Yuuji's upper body to slide your hands downwards. Your rewarding groan from Sukuna is worth the strain on your shoulders when you hold your cheeks spread, an open invitation for what you want. "Both of you—need you to cum inside."
They fuck you in earnest, bouncing and thrusting you between both of their cocks so seamlessly. It has your lips parting and teeth sinking into the tense muscle of Yuuji's neck, he near whimpers at the feeling of your teeth latching against him. His hips are the first to stutter, the fingers he pushed between your sandwiched bodies to roll your clit in smooth circles picks up in effort.
You groan against his skin, partially muffled by the way you refuse to let go of his skin until finally—you burst. Your orgasm comes sharp and fast, a coil that snaps and whips until you're arching your back painfully. Sukuna pushes down on your back, deepening that arch until he's fucking painfully into your ass.
Yuuji spills his load deep inside of you, fucking through the spurts and his eyes flutter closed at the sensation of you milking him for all he's worth. His fingers never give up on rubbing against your clit, not until he knows Sukuna has finished too.
Sukuna growls something under his breath, his hands clamping on your waist and he throws himself forward once, twice, three times. His cum is hot, thick and somehow a lot more than what Yuuji had spilt inside of you. It drips from around his length, the cock he's still fucking into you with each burst until he's spent.
Slowly, with a hand wrapped around the base of his softening cock, Sukuna pulls back until he's gifted with the sight of something he wishes he could engrain in his brain forever. You're twitching still around Yuuji's cock, a cock that's dripping in both his own cum, yours and the cum Yuuji had valiantly tried to fuck back into your womb.
Sukuna dips his fingers downwards, pushing his cum back into your ass to hear you whimper and groan against Yuuji. "Look at that." He hums more to himself.
Yuuji is completely lax beneath you, his hands rubbing soothing patterns up and down your back where you slowly deflate against his chest. But even Sukuna can see that Yuuji isn't quite finished, his cock still hard and buried deep inside of you—Sukuna smirks when he meets those light brown eyes over your shoulder.
The night was only young, and Sukuna had much more planned for you.
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