when they begin to fuck you a little harder because you’re starting to go a little dumb, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you grip their body and breathily say their name
I so badly want him to tell me im "too little for this", watching me squirm and clutch my stuffie and blankie tight as he presses the head of his perverted dadcock against my pussy.
I want to see him struggle to contain himself as I whine, "I'm a big girl daddy" and try to push his cock inside me.
I want him to slowly stretch me open. "Fuck baby, you're so little."
asking him if those muscles are just for show—bulky and useless. to having your face crammed into the pillows as he shows you precisely how much stronger he is than you :)
☆ : dumbification(hopefully, it's my first time writing for this kink), overstimulation, cockwarming, creampie, hinted/mentioned multiple orgasms, very brief but also cnc if u squint, mentioned foreplay, dom!mike schmidt,
requested by anon
It's not often that Mike gets a day off, working countless overtime shifts in order to make ends meet.
When he finally catches a break, he's using that time to blow off steam, letting out all his frustrations by using you.
With your face pressed into the matress, your back arched, and moans muffled into the fabric of the sheets, he had it. Your hole is clenching tightly around his cock, milking him for all the cum he could give possibly give you.
"Fuuuckkkk, Miikkeeee....!" You cried, whimpering out as you couldn't form any other words, your mind was practically scrambled as Mike continued to fuck his cock deeper into your cunt. His tip continued to nudge your cervix. He was so deep inside he almost had the air in your lungs knocked out. You wanted to beg for more, for him to go faster, but all that came out was a mewl and whine.
"Yeah? Can't say shit?"
He slapped your thigh, a pink print left behind while he grabbed your hair and tugged on it. Your legs were shaking as he grabbed your arm and pulled you up, your back pressed up against his chest. He starts kissing your neck, his hands groping whatever they could reach. His fingers eventually make it to your nipples, playing with them as the movements of his hips moving start up again.
Your own hips ache with the positions he's had you in, your stomach dips as his fingers eventually reached your pussy. Your clit is overly sensitive from earlier foreplay, you almost fall forward as he starts to play with it.
"M-.. Mike-! Mike..!" You want to say something, you want him to fuck harder and faster, you want him to make you cum, but you can't make out words as your own breathing picks up a faster pace.
Your cum and slick allows for his cock to glide in and out so smoothly, the angle at which he has you in only intensifies the amount of pleasure he's giving you.
"You dumb little thing.." He groans out, seeing how fucked out he has you, how stupid you've become on his cock. "So fucked out on my dick, aren't you?", he whispered into your ear.
You can't even say anything other than his name as you're reaching another climax, pussy throbbing around his dick.
"Gonna cum?" He asked, pushing you onto the mattress, your chest hitting the bed, face into the sheets again. All you could do was let out a muffled cry, the overstimulation was reaching a peak within you, it was painful but overpowered by the sensation of pleasure. It was an overwhelming feel, but you needed it, you craved it because you didn't know when the next time would come.
"Oh, you dirty girl." Mike groans, you came, pussy spasms around his length. All strength in your body is gone, it doesn't take longer before your boyfriend is cumming into your used cunt. The hot sensation of his cum flowing into your pussy had you panting more.
Everything after that is a blur.
Mike doesn't pull out, instead, he falls to your side and hugs you from behind. The mixed combination of both yours and his cum sits at the base of his dick.
"Aren't you such a good dumb doll?" He kisses your neck. You barely hear what he says before his cock is ramming in and out of you again.
every night, the king of curses repeats the same routine - waltzing through the halls, often covered in blood (of course not his own - never his own; after all, he was the king for a reason), choosing from one of his many concubines, and storming into his chambers. every night, the screams echoed through the empty temple; every morning, the girl he bedded was gone. you figured you'd take your chances when you ventured onto his estate, following the promise of comfort and lavishness. but when he chooses you, you can't help but dread the unknown fate waiting on the other side.
pairing: trueform!sukuna x f!reader
themes/content: dark content (dubcon). smut. blood, mention of death and murder, biting/bruising, degradation (slut, whore, cocksleeve), he slaps your ass, fingering, dumbification, double penetration, sukuna is real freaky nasty mean. 18+, MDNI (wk: 4.1k)
a/n: licking the blood off his face or whatever
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At first, you think the girls must have been happy. They were chosen by the King of Curses, after all. They wore their heads high, pride settling on their shoulders as they waltzed after him to his chambers.
At first, the others ignored the screams. Perhaps it was pleasure twisted into pain, they tried to reason. When the girls never came back the next day, the others wanted to assume the best. Perhaps he so cherished their time together that he decided to free them from the temple, relinquishing the bindings of their agreement to stay.
But you have grown to learn otherwise.
Because you know Ryomen Sukuna is not a kind man. He would never spare a victim for the sake of sympathy; it wouldn’t be particularly fitting for a king, after all. It took work to claw his way to the top, and despite how easy it may seem to overlook the mountain of corpses he stands upon, you’ve never quite gotten over the feeling that he’s glaring down at you.
Now, when heavy footsteps echo down the hall, the air runs cold. You line up next to the others, eyes trained downward, only catching glimpses of the dried blood staining the edges of his robes.
When he points at one of the girls next to you, her body seems to collapse: it’s giving up - her fate has been sealed. Now, the obligation hangs heavy, a collar tightened around her throat, chains clattering as she walks to her doom.
There’s silence for a moment before the rest of you uncomfortably rise and return to whatever tasks filled the time. You were all so numb to death by now it didn’t even linger in your thoughts for more than a moment, a brief flash of decay. You honestly don’t think you even remember the name of the girl who had just been chosen, not that it mattered anyways. Nobody would be speaking it again.
Painting is what you find yourself returning to. It’s what originally drew you to Sukuna’s temple on that wretched summer’s day, after all. You had been searching for materials in the woods, new flowers to use as dyes to craft with, when something flashed across your vision: a girl, in the brightest white dress you’d ever seen. She giggled, her skin glowing under the sun as she hummed to herself.
You found yourself following her. Nobody lived in these woods, at least not that you had ever seen. Anyone you happened to encounter was usually clad in leather or metal, weapons strapped to their sides, hunting for survival.
But not her.
She looked perfectly defenseless, beautifully vulnerable. She didn’t even turn around as you slowly approached her, not a single survival instinct left. What comforts made her so willing to forego protection?
“Excuse me,” you called, reaching an arm out as though to prove she was, in fact, real. When your hand made contact with her warm skin, she didn’t even flinch.
“Oh!” she laughed. “I didn’t see you there. Are you lost?” She was even more stunning up close.
“N-no,” your voice cracked in awe. “I just…do you live out here?”
Her gaze softened as she smiled. “Oh, yes. I live in the temple, I was just out for a walk.”
“Your temple…?”
“Well, it’s not my temple, I suppose,” and that gorgeous laugh returned. “It belongs to Lord Sukuna.”
The title felt familiar in your head, a name covered in cobwebs and dust, one you only remembered hearing in the dark. “And he allows you to stay there?”
“Yes! He allows all of us to stay there, and he takes such lovely care of us, too. We have the most delicious meals, the most comfortable beds, any whim we could possibly think up is catered to in an instant.”
Something in her words made your muscles ache - you had surely been walking for miles by now, a layer of dirt coating your skin. Your stomach churned in hunger, not having eaten in possibly days, unable to consistently afford even the bare minimum. Sometimes the shop owners in town took pity on you, but sometimes they cast you away with a cruel glare. There was a flash of jealousy inside you - what had she done to deserve these luxuries? Just as the thought found its way to your tongue, she continued.
“Would you like to come see it?”
Glancing down at your calloused and stained hands, you wondered how soft hers felt. You wondered if she smelled like flowers. You wondered if you could, too.
“Yes,” you mumbled.
It took so few words to convince you - looking back on it, you wonder if she was even trying to convince you at all. She hadn’t oversold the reality, per se. You wonder if you could go back to that moment, if there’s anything you could have said to prevent yourself from joining her.
You brush the thought aside with a sigh. It doesn’t matter now, after all - you willingly walked yourself to a promised paradise, and now have come to resent it. In spite of its comforts, in spite of its safety, you’ve never felt more vulnerable.
At least you can paint here.
Resting your elbows against the wooden window frame, you paint scenes of places far from this cage, places you can now only imagine. Perhaps if you can create them on paper, your mind could one day venture there, too.
Sukuna’s servant, Uraume, the one you always see quietly bustling about, does have a talent for finding the most beautiful pigments. You wonder where they collect them from, how expensive they are. You almost laugh at the thought of Sukuna paying for something like this, and you wonder if he knows where his wealth gets spent. The laugh dies in your throat as you realize that he likely has never had to actually purchase anything in his life. His currency is fear.
And yet, you can’t find it in yourself to care. Today, a beautiful fall landscape uncovers itself from your brushes. Deep browns and oranges cascade across the canvas. But there’s a sour taste lingering in your mouth as you work - it’s all dead. Every fallen leaf, every cracked branch is dead. That’s all things seem to be anymore.
With a huff, you let your momentary frustration get the better of you, splattering the carefully collected red paint across your masterpiece, a bloodied smear across your work. At least now it looks alive.
The next day is the same.
Sukuna enters.
You all line up.
Your knees hurt from kneeling on the stone floor.
He walks down the line (you wonder how many there are here, now - you’d think the numbers would be dwindling after the near daily executions, but they seem to remain steady, always replenished with some new bright-eyed girl who thinks she’s found her salvation, only to learn it’s her damnation).
But today, you can’t bring yourself to lower your head.
You know you ought to - the other girls taught you during your first week here. Apparently, in the past, he had simply killed those who refused to bow for him outright, not even bothering to torture them first.
But today, you just can’t. Perhaps being killed would be more merciful than this hellish purgatory you’ve found yourself in. At the very least, you’ll die with your head held high.
Footsteps stop in front of you.
“Oh? What’s this?”
A shiver runs up your spine. You’ve barely heard him speak in all your time here, you realize. When he chooses to, it’s exclusively been to bark orders at Uraume or scream at those who come to worship him. But this is different. He seems almost…excited.
“You know, it’s impolite not to bow.” And he has to be fucking with you, because you swear you hear him practically giggle out the words.
“I am aware, my Lord.” The words taste bitter as you spit them out, but you don’t make any action to move. Instead, your gaze rises to meet his, and your heart stutters. Ruby eyes stare back at you, masked by matching blood splattered across his skin. He looks nothing short of godly - perhaps that’s why so many willingly worship him.
And then, the god before you laughs.
“Come with me,” he beckons before turning away.
The girls around you can’t hold back their quiet gasps as you slowly rise to your feet.
He’s going to kill you.
As you follow behind him, the words sink into your stomach.
He’s going to kill you.
Each step down the path makes your heart beat in turn.
He’s going to kill you.
Rounding an unfamiliar corner, you nearly careen into him as he suddenly stops before two large wooden doors. They’re intricately carved, a level of detail you wouldn’t have expected for a place dedicated to killing. And yet, they’re utterly beautiful.
“In,” he growls when you fail to move.
You nervously shuffle past him before heavy footsteps follow you inside. Your gaze wanders over his chambers, the maroon bedding mirroring blood, the dark wood posts caging it in. Everything about it feels oppressive, sucking the air from your lungs like smoke; and yet, it doesn’t seem fitting for a place of sacrifice.
“Derobe and get on the bed.”
He’s shuffling around behind you, not even looking your way as he maneuvers through the space.
Hesitantly, you do as you're told, draping your robes over the headboard before laying down. The comforter is soft beneath your skin, cool to the touch. Perhaps silk? Some luxury you’ve never been afforded, surely.
The entire room seems to shift under the magnitude of his presence as he walks towards you. His own robes are now banished to some corner of the room, skin sparkling under the flickering candlelight from the chandelier above. Two pairs of arms cross as he glances at you, and he hides his smirk with a scoff. “What’s this? I didn’t tell you to lay down - we aren’t here to make love, I’m here to fuck you.”
Your cheeks flush as you grit your teeth. He didn’t give you clear instructions, how the hell were you supposed to know what to do? The movement of your body as you adjust onto your hands and knees hopefully hides the way your eyes roll.
But Sukuna did not grow to be this powerful by being inattentive.
“Oh?” And there’s that same chuckle again. “For someone who’s about to be killed, you’re awfully presumptive.”
“My sincerest apologies, Lord Sukuna,” you manage to spit (the sincerity is lost from the words).
Everything becomes warm as he looms over you, hot skin pressing against yours. He smells like blood and smoke and violence, something in it making your legs tremble. He’s almost terrifying up close; he’s almost beautiful.
“Do you know why you’re here?”
His face is right next to yours now. You shake your head.
“You’re here to entertain me.”
When you don’t respond further, a large palm digs into your scalp, grabbing you by your hair to force your attention to his. Unenthusiastic eyes meet flaming ones.
“Okay?” You shouldn’t be speaking to him like this, you know you shouldn’t be speaking to him like this. He’s going to kill you. But maybe that’s the problem - when you know you’re going to die, there’s nothing left to lose. You were always taught to never corner a wounded animal. “Get it over with, then. Go on, entertain yourself.”
He smirks. You don’t stop.
“Fuck me, hurt me, do whatever the hell you want to me, but don’t expect me to get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness. And certainly don’t expect me to plead for your mercy.”
If he was any closer, you’d flinch from the sheer volume of his laugh. Tears nearly prick at the corners of his eyes as his entire body shakes with utter glee. “Oh, my, I outdid myself with you, didn’t I?” he muses.
Finally, it’s your turn to be silent.
“Do you know why I chose you?”
A snarky remark sits on the tip of your tongue, but it’s held back by the cold grip of shock. For once, you’re speechless.
“I chose you,” he leans forward, close enough to catch the lingering flecks of blood across his skin, “because the stubborn ones are the most fun to break.”
The silk bedding is much less soft when your face is shoved into it. The firm hand on the back of your head pushes you forward, threatening to shred the remaining semblance of your dignity as you fall. It’s rough, the way he throws you down like nothing more than a doll, one he’s grown tired of playing with.
Scrambling to find him in your vision again, you feel him before you see him - four of those same giant palms resting on your hips.
He’s going to kill you.
When you expect pain, anything else is a pleasant surprise. Especially, it would seem, two fingers trailing between your legs.
“Are you always this pathetic?” he asks.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re fucking wet.” He’s not wrong, unfortunately, you know he’s not wrong, you can feel it in the way he circles his calloused digits over your clit. “Is me being cruel truly that appealing?”
Just as your lips part to retort, to spit back the poison he’s feeding you, the sound twists into a smokey moan as he slides into you.
“Hah. Thought so, fucking whore.”
He’s killed before. You’ve never seen it, but you’ve heard the screams, of course. He’s probably choked and stabbed more people than you have even known in your limited lifespan. Of course the hands of a killer would be powerful, but you never imagined they’d stretch you out quite like this. Perhaps the damage brought by them is transferred to your body with each curl towards your core, each rough motion pulling your muscles towards an uninviting goal.
But that means you can use that violence. You can contain it, redirect it, control it.
“I’m not a whore.”
“Oh? So sure?”
And then he’s pressing harder. Muscles start contracting, your legs start shaking.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
With white knuckles, you veer yourself away from the edge at the last moment.
Sukuna, of course, feels it.
“Don’t want to cum, little one?” His mock affection is almost sickeningly sweet on his tongue as he giggles. “So be it. Only making things harder for yourself.”
Those same calloused fingers are ripped from your cunt. Finally, you can take in a full breath.
Your lungs stop halfway through expanding when something else suddenly fills you.
A scream threatens to tear from your throat as the tip of his cock enters into you. Teeth bite into the flesh of your arm to stifle the sound, your eyes screwed shut. Everything goes red, the burning flames inside your chest igniting.
Behind you, Sukuna laughs.
“What’s the matter? Can’t handle it, hm?”
There are marks on your skin from where your canines dug into it. You shake your head. “I-I can handle it.”
“Good.”
His hips pull back before slamming into you. Then it’s hands, everywhere - groping your chest, your ass, your hips, your stomach. Every part of you feels his palms, his flesh fighting with the air to contain your body.
Rough, unapologetic thrusts shake your frame. The muscles in your back strain to keep you upright, willing yourself to not collapse into the mattress beneath you, knowing that falling into the silk sheets holds the same fate as a grave.
One of his lower hands smacks your ass, the plump flesh rippling before long fingernails dig into it. “Perfect fuckin’ body,” Sukuna grumbles from behind you - if you were in any other setting, you would almost blush at the praise.
But now, all you can do is choke back a moan in response.
His movements are fast, but steady, you realize. The fog of your thoughts begins to clear, your clarity returning.
You can do this.
The ruby comforter folds in your grasp as you pull your palms into fists. Legs steady, arms ready.
The next time his cock bullies into you, you meet his thrusts. When he reaches deeper, it almost feels good.
So, you keep moving your hips in pace, pushing them flush against his pelvis each time. God, it feels fucking devine.
That breathy chuckle echoes behind you, one that never bodes well.
“Aw, does that feel good?” he coos, saccharine words dripping red from his lips.
You’re almost too gone to miss the sarcasm. “Y-yes.”
“Desperate little thing, you want more?”
Nails almost pierce the skin of your hips. You nod.
“Now, now, that’s no way to speak to me. Use your words.”
“Please,” you whine - you shouldn’t be doing this, you know you shouldn’t - “more, Lord S’kuna.”
You dug your grave, and the air of his laugh is enough to blow you forward into it.
One hand trails from your waist down to your ass, massaging it softly - the thunder before lightning. In an instant, sharp teeth bite into your skin. Hard.
You cry out, but he just giggles, the mouth that had formed on his palm gone in an instant.
Distracted by the sudden pain, your senses are too preoccupied to notice the way he continues his path down, until you feel something cold. Sukuna’s spit lands on your puckered hole, his thumb rubbing around the rim.
He’s going to fucking kill you.
Just as your lips part to protest, one thick finger pushes past the first ring of muscles inside you. Then two.
The moment you finally feel yourself beginning to relax, he pulls his hand away. It’s just as quickly replaced with something much, much bigger. The tip of his second cock is sticky with precum as it rests against your skin.
You knew Sukuna was not a patient man, but you had hoped he’d be gracious with you now.
The blood speckling his skin reminds you how foolish those hopes had been.
With one hand gripping his base, he slowly presses into you. On instinct, you attempt to squirm away, but his remaining arms wrap firmly around your torso, holding you in place.
“Wai-aah,” the sound garbles as you bite into your forearm, this time hard enough to pierce flesh. Your blood blends into the bedding.
Eyes screwed shut, you can’t see the sinister smirk painting his features, all four eyes fixed on where the two of you are connected.
“C’mon now,” he huffs, “a good little whore like you can take it, can’t you?”
A whine escapes your throat in denial, but it sounds more like an affirmation as it hits the air. Especially with the way your knees begin to buckle.
You feel every vein and ridge of his cocks as he slides out of you.
You feel nothing but ecstasy when he thrusts back in.
Everything is hot, your skin on fire. Shaky breaths rattle in your chest, shallow puffs of air through parted lips.
It’s too much, every muscle in your body held taught. The slick sound of his cocks pumping in and out of you fills the room, fills your mind.
And you can’t even think, can barely breathe, anymore. Your eyes roll back, tongue lolling from your mouth as you desperately pant.
“See, doesn’t it feel good to be my little cocksleeve?” he purrs from behind you - he’s not even out of breath despite the way his abs clench with each thrust. “Fuckin’ cunt was made for this.”
And something switches off in your brain, because there’s no other reasonable explanation for the words tumbling from your bruised and bitten lips. “F-feels good.”
He’s nothing short of shocked by your admission - but then again, he did set out with the goal of breaking you. A giddy smile blooms on his lips.
“Aw, what’s this? Already fucked dumb?” A rough palm gropes at your tits.
And a part of you knows you’re above this.
But that part went up in flames the moment Sukuna’s thick cocks ripped you apart, tearing you open and putting you back together in a shape of his liking.
“Mmhm,” you can barely nod, drool collecting at the corner of your mouth, but you’re in utterly no position to wipe it away, your hands preoccupied with gripping the bed sheets below, the fabric twisting between your fingers.
“So it’s true then - you’re just a fucking slut, hm?”
You’re better than this.
You’re smart. Determined. Strong.
“I’m - nnng - m’your slut.”
Pride tingles his nerves, fingers digging into your skin, sharpened nails leaving marks on your waist. With one deep thrust, you feel him in your throat and your vision is blurry and your muscles give out.
But Sukuna is always stronger.
Four arms hold your limp body as he continues fucking into you. Truly nothing more than a cocksleeve the way he’s using you, so small in his grasp, so powerless. And yet, your thighs are sticky and slick from just how wet you are.
Teeth prick at your back, your shoulders, your neck. Marked in bites and bruises, you’ve become his canvas, stained with his claim on you. Reds and pinks and purples bloom beneath your skin, painted in sharp canines and pointed nails. A signature left along your hips, up your spine - his.
Broken whines of his name get forced from your lungs with each thrust, the only sound besides his heavy balls slapping against your skin.
That fire begins to burn brighter in your core. You want to call it resentment, but you aren’t that naive, not anymore.
“Heh, is my little whore gonna cum from being used like this?”
At least his smirk is outside the realm of your perception, the only thing you feel being the ravenous push and pull of his cocks inside you, the tightness and burning pleasure they bring each time his tip pokes deeper and deeper.
You want to shake your head, you want to deny him, deny the effect he has on you.
But all you get out is a weak cry of “please,” before your skin erupts in flames. Your cunt spasms around him, everything going red.
He pumps into you six more times before both of his cocks twitch in unison, unloading sticky ropes impossibly deep into your aching holes. He growls as he does, muscles rippling under the strain of his conquest.
When he releases you, your body collapses onto the damp sheets below. Cheek squished into the maroon, it all bleeds into itself, until you can’t tell where the bed ends and Sukuna begins. It’s only when you feel it shift from the lack of his weight that you know he’s gone.
Everything hurts. Everything is too hot. Everything feels so fucking good.
You should feel shame, you think - you should hate yourself for the way he used you, broke you. He tore your strength away with bloodied teeth until you were weak and limp. Maybe it’s the slow pulsing that lingers between your legs, but you can’t bring yourself to resent it - it was a battle well fought (and victory takes many forms, after all).
But the thing is, you are strong.
With a muffled groan, you shift your weight closer to the edge, the remnants of Sukuna’s claim lingering on your body in scratches and bruises, burning desire.
“You may collect your things, someone will be in-”
When his gaze falls upon you, he freezes where he stands in the corner of his chambers, robe half-draped over his broad shoulders.
You’re wobbly as you stand, cum leaking down your thighs, ruffled hair and unfocused eyes, but he recognizes something in them, a fire he would call strength.
And Sukuna smiles. Not the condescending smirk of a man pitying his captive, but one of respect. He crosses two pairs of arms over his chest.
“What’s this?” he mutters to himself. “Well then, Uraume will be in to help you bathe.”
“Bathe?” You use all the remaining air in your chest to keep your voice from sounding weak. “Before you kill me?”
There’s that giggle again, but the sharpness to it has dulled slightly, in a way you would hesitantly call fondness. “Oh, I won’t be killing you.” Turning, he brushes the thought away with a wave of his hand. “You’ve proven yourself to be quite entertaining, and I’d be a fool to discard such a fun little whore.” But there’s no bite to the words as he says it.
Your legs feel steadier as you stand.
“I expect to see you in my chambers tomorrow, understood?”
— playground : umemiya hajime x f!reader x endo yamato
summary: idk, i wanted them together, here we are. nothing more but a depraved lil drabble
wc: 1k
content warnings! nsfw, teasing, degradation, both are rather condescending here, hair pulling, threesome, blowjob, manhandling, petnames, rough sex, dumbification, asphyxiation, somewhat dacryphilia
“Don’t be selfish now,” Endo chides with a hint of irritation, gently grasping your chin to direct your attention back to him. “You wanted to share, yet you’re all over Ume.” His jealousy prompts you to shift slightly in Hajime's lap, to face the dark haired man instead and cradle his pretty face, pulling him in for a deep kiss.
Yet Yamato can be greedy, too greedy whenever something tastes absolutely divine. His mouth now latches onto your neck, firm hands on your hips pull you onto his own lap, to grind your throbbing pussy against his cock, as his lips destroy your skin. Umemiya's chuckle fans over your slightly damp neck as he busies himself with an exploration of your figure, his fingers run over the sheer fabric of your blouse, popping one button after another and exposing your bra to their hungry gazes.
The stark contrast between his cool touch and your heated skin sends shivers down your spine. However, Ume's teasing pales in comparison to Endo's urgent advances, guiding your hands to unfasten his belt as he deftly caresses the damp fabric of your panties before riding you of the useless scrap of fabric.
Of course, he fucks you first, guiding your ass to take a seat on his thighs as he helps you settle down on his overly excited cock. You’re pressed against his chest with big palms resting on your tummy and squeezing your tits.
The sight in front has Hajime question his sanity, never would he have expected to enjoy watching you get absolutely ruined by someone else. The blush on his cheeks nearly radiates as he has to keep his own excitement in check, fisting along his erection for some desperate measure of relief.
Teeth graze the nape of your neck while you part your lips and loll your tongue out to get a taste of Hajime's pre-cum. He drags the dripping head over your glossy lips, the mess he creates makes you even prettier.
But the devil behind your shoulder bounces your frame on his lap with ease, forcing you to welcome Ume in the back of your throat with no warning. You clench around Endo, nails scratching over Hajime's pecks and thighs for leverage as tears brim your eyes. You should have known that Endo is an impatient bastard. “Not so greedy, pretty girl” Ume groans, yet a big grin forces its way on his face, the satisfaction you present him with too good to feel bad for you.
Muffled cries of objection send tingles over Ume's skin, a mixture of your saliva and his arousal leaking from your mouth while he loses himself in bliss. “Fuck, you’re such a filthy little vixen, ain’t you?” Endo murmurs, sounding almost upset—yet intrigued, you definitely need to suck him off as well.
Moans escape you, vibrating around Hajime's cock, before it all gets a little too much. The stretch in the back of your throat causes a panic to stir in your mind. Yet the attempts of pulling back only push you further into Endo. He grins. “No, no, kitten, give him all you’ve got before you suck me like your favourite lolly,” Yamato murmurs in your ear, his hand tangling in your hair and pushing you further onto Ume's cock until your lips meet his pelvis. Your eyes roll back as desperate whimpers are lost in their fervent groans.
It's a game of push and pull, two pairs of hands all over your body to hold you in positions perfect for their own selfish desires.
“Up you go, pretty thing,” Endo drawls, large hands grasp your hips to hoist you off his lap and shove you further into Umemiya until you're on all fours. The latter ensures your lips remain around his cock, his blunt nails digging into your scalp as he revels in your choking sounds. The position is uncomfortable for you, effectively constricting your airway, causing your throat and cunt to clench around their cocks as their pace quickens. A calloused hand massages your cheek, before lacing around your throat, to make breathing just a tad bit more difficult. Your mind is spinning, ears ringing, yet both guys are too caught up in their needs to worry for you.
But you enjoy this. Sick girl. As your climax approaches, your fingers paw against Ume's thighs, overwhelmed by Endo's cock deep within your fluttering walls, you finally free yourself. “‘M cumming, please,” you mewl. Yet instead of having mercy, Yamato tugs on your hair, forcing you to meet steel blue eyes, Hajime's gaze is almost drowning in your fucked-out expression until Endo's movements slow to shallow thrusts.
“So you ruin my pleasure because you’re only thinking with your pussy?” Umemiya grumbles, his words and irritation catch you off guard. Your eyes wide in shock, since you've never heard him talk like that before. But the electrifying spank to your clit wales you from your shock. Endo's fingers rub lazy circles around your nub, pinching you offer no answer to Umemiya's complaint.
“I-I’m sorry, Haji, really sorry!” Your tear-streaked cheeks and sobbing voice draw a sigh from Umemiya. “Silly girl, time to turn around.” Their synchronised actions are intimidating; barely able to face Endo as he already pulls you towards his glistening cock while Umemiya's nails drag over the plush of your ass and back. “Take it all,” the dark haired man urges.
As you bend over to take Yamato's cock—your jaw deliberately slack—Ume positions himself between your legs. His hands push down on the small of your back, presenting your ass perfectly as your core drips down your inner thighs. With a swift, commanding thrust, he enters you deeply, his hips snapping fervently against you. Each powerful push drives him closer to his climax, his desperation fuelled by the sight of Endo finishing on your tongue.
You're too pretty to not have your face covered in cum, he thinks to himself.
