animedumpfanfics

[animedumpfanfics]

Love that almost all fics with Nanami he’s a doting soft dom husband and then Toji is just a manhandling fiend 😭. Geto is always a mean dom, choso sub!top, and gojo always messy in bed. Messy as in teasing btw

[animedumpfanfics]

I literally just read th most smuttest (think this not a word 🤔) fic on this app in a while. I had to share this. I wish I could reach to this level of writing. Holy shit

FAMILY MATTERS

Shinjuro Rengoku x Kyojuro Rengoku x F!Reader

A/N: so uhhh… y’all remember my Red Dress one shot? Well, here’s the continuation of that, except now, it’s Shinjuro’s turn.

There is nothing redeemable about this. It’s pure smut.

CW: MDNI • 7.2k • explicit sexual content below • cucking • breeding • creampie • Kyojuro sets his fiance up tbh but she’s into it • just nasty filth • doggy • rough rug sex • desk sex •

Senjuro ended up departing for a neighbor’s after dinner, and the Rengoku patriarch retired to bed not long after. Though the two of you should have been well on your way home, Kyojuro had gotten distracted.

“I thought of you all through dinner,” his breath is hot against your ear. One hand flips up the skirt of your sundress as the other fumbles with his belt. “How you sat there, talking to my father and brother while my seed leaked out of you.”

“Kyojuro �� oh —“ you’re cut off by his bruising, rough kiss. You break away only with a sharp gasp as your fiance’s practiced fingers drag over the lacy seam of your underwear, your hips bucking into his touch. His mouth only slopes messily down your neck. Kyojuro growls into your skin in approval at the wetness he finds between your legs — a mixture of his cum and your renewed arousal.

“You drive me wild,” the leather around his hips gives way, and his fingers are nimble as they unfasten the top button of his pants.

You can’t hide the way your mouth runs dry, or how your thighs unconsciously press together as Kyojuro pulls his stiffened cock free. A thrill flutters in your stomach at the thought of getting on your knees before him and offering your mouth for his use. That excitement is doubled at the prospect of being inside your future father-in-law’s study, a place you wouldn’t have dared to venture had Kyojuro not led you here by the hand.

But that arousal grinds to a sharp halt when Kyojuro’s fingers curl under the edge of your underwear and yank them down your legs. A quick rustle of fabric indicates he’s shoved them into the pocket of his loosened pants, for safe-keeping.

Kyojuro gives himself a firm pump before lining himself up with your entrance.

“This is — Kyo — your father’s study —“

“I’m aware.” With one mighty thrust of his hips, he forces himself to the hilt inside you. “Keep quiet, my Flame.”

Once he’s confirmed that your hand is braced steadily behind you on the rich mahogany of his father’s desk, Kyojuro pulls back, his fingers deftly pushing the straps of your sundress from your shoulders. He tugs the bodice down to your waist and your breasts pebble at the sudden exposure to the warm air of the home office.

Kyojuro hums at the sight of the marks he’d left behind; the way the light from the fire dances across your exposed skin.

He begins with shallow thrusts that grow deeper, more forceful with every passing moment. Before long, you’re forced to smother your whimpers against the thick curve of his shoulder, your fingers curling under the edge of the desk as it rocks and creaks with his movements.

“Fuck, my love,” Kyojuro groans into your hair. “God, you feel too fucking good to stop.”

He must be desperate, you decide, given the way he steadily lets his weight fall into you until you’re forced back against the flat surface of the desk. If you weren’t too busy muffling your sounds of pleasure by burying your teeth into your bottom lip, you would’ve smiled. Kyojuro was so adorable when he was like this; when he gave into his more base desires to rut fast and deep.

Your fiance quiets his own euphoria by sealing his mouth against your throat. His moans rumble across your skin, chased by alternating flicks of his tongue nips of his teeth His hands grip you firmly by your waist, his fingers digging into your flesh, anchoring you to him as he pushes faster and deeper into you.

A floorboard nearby creaks, but neither of you notice; you’re too enraptured in one another, your body already thrumming with a need for more that hot, saltiness you can’t help but crave that you know Kyojuro won’t be able to resist giving you.

Thank goodness for the card of neat little pills waiting on your nightstand at home; though you’d likely be pushing your luck, you’re optimistic that your fiancé will give you his fill and still get you back in time for you to take your birth control.

Kyojuro tears his mouth away from your neck and straightens, his nails digging into your hips as he jerks you to meet his bruising thrusts.

“What do you think, Father?” Kyojuro’s jovial tone makes you freeze and the sweat which has begun to cling to your skin turns cold. “Is the view better than you imagined?”

Instantly you jolt up, clinging to Kyojuro’s massive frame in an effort to keep yourself concealed.

A dismissive scoff sounds from a distant corner of the study. “It certainly isn’t worse.”

Dread curdles in your stomach as Kyojuro’s father steps out of the shadows. His face is hard and severe, even as he draws closer to the fireplace adjacent to his desk, the light of the flames offering no warmth.

You begin to squirm against Kyojuro, who is bewilderingly still buried snugly inside your warmth. Your anxious little taps against his chest, his shoulders, however, do nothing to spur him into action, no matter how you urge him away.

“Now, now, my Flame,” your fiancé tuts, quelling your protests with a warning thrust, shallow, but firm enough to cease your squirming. “You cannot deny you’ve been tempting him.”

Across the richly manicured office, the elder Rengoku’s eyes burn in silent agreement.

“In fact, I seem to recall you mentioning how fuckable you thought he still was.”

Your mouth falls open in horror. Not only was it an exaggeration of what you’d actually said (he could still get it, don’t you think?), but you’d said it to tease Kyojuro. In private.

“And I think we both know this little dress of yours was intentional. You know how we love red.”

Shane burns in your cheeks. You did. You’d worn the red sundress to bait your fiancé, but you’d also done it knowing the significance of the color red in the Rengoku family. And while your comment about the fuckability of the family’s patriarch had mostly been lighthearted, some part of you had always been curious.

Perhaps Kyojuro was right; maybe you’d been enticing the senior Rengoku just as much as you had his son.

But there’s a faint tinge of jealousy in Kyojuro’s tone that has your heart thumping madly against your sternum. It’s the kind he rarely showed even when you were openly flirted with in front of him, whether the two of you were out on a romantic dinner or simply running errands together. A sort of dominance that only ever manifested when Kyojuro perceived a threat — a person whose eyes lingered too long, or when someone simply got too close for comfort.

It is that possessive anger which shows now that his competition is his own father. Perhaps he is hoping the elder will be exactly that — an old man, limited in his age and unable to satisfy you the way Kyojuro knows how. Though, from your blushing once-over of Shinjuro’s form where he waits across the study, you quietly think perhaps Kyojuro has underestimated his father. While he may indulge in his stash of fine alcohol too often, Shinjuro remains agile as ever, his body, strong.

Your curiosity flames, lashing at you until it can no longer be ignored. For every way Kyojuro’s personality contrasted heavily with his father’s, you could not help but wonder whether that opposition continued in other areas. Namely, the way Kyojuro’s switch flipped the second you got him alone, riled up and heated was in diametric opposition to his ordinarily warm and sweet disposition.

Because, no matter how gentle and kind and warm Kyojuro was, rile him up enough and he turned into a downright fiend when left alone with you.

Shinjuro, in contrast, was anything but sunny and cheerful. At best, he was a crass old man with a habit of letting alcohol loosen his already too loose tongue. Assuming consistency was a variable in play, perhaps that meant he would be softer; more gentle.

Despite your embarrassment at having been discovered, you cannot deny your own longing.

Kyojuro grinds once more into you before withdrawing from your heat entirely. You wince at the loss of his warmth, fingers clawing at air to bring him back, to cover you with the safety of his body once more, but he only steps aside.

“If you’re gonna fuck in my house, little girl, then you’re gonna have to abide by my rules.” Shinjuro’s voice carries that deadly sort of authority you’d only ever heard him assert when dealing with business, and it’s severe enough that you find your spine straightening in answer. “And I believe in sharing.”

Your mouth falls open as though you have any basis to protest when you’ve been caught red-handed, but Shinjuro cuts you off.

“That’s my rule from now on.” He looks to his son. “You fuck her in my house, then it’s free use. That includes your brother, once he’s an adult. Don’t like it? keep it in your fuckin’ pants.”

Shinjuro’s attention slides back to you, and a sharp flutter shoots through the pit of your stomach at the leering desire in his eyes. “And I don’t care if you’re here visiting with your future kids. I’ll fuck you once they’re asleep.“

Any cautious optimism you had that Shinjuro might embrace the softer side of intimacy flew right out the delicately arched window of his study.

And yet, your curiosity lingers.

Hesitantly, you lower your eyes and see the rigid bulge straining against the seat of his pants. It looks almost identical to Kyojuro’s, but from your quick assessment, it seems his father boasts a greater thickness.

The thought of how that thickness might feel, buried inside your makes, makes your mouth go dry.

Warm, gentle fingers catch your chin. “Only if you want to.”

It is a whisper only meant for you to hear, and suddenly, some of your anxiety eases. You know, by the burning sincerity in his eyes, that if this truly was beyond your realm of comfort, Kyojuro would cut it off without you needing to even utter your safe word.

With a light gulp, you nod, the movement almost as imperceptible as Kyojuro’s eyes become unreadable. But he says nothing more; instead, Kyojuro merely steps away, leaving no barrier between you and his father. Predator and prey.

Self-consciousness has your arm jumping to lock itself over your chest, a futile attempt to conceal what has already been exposed.

Shinjuro stalks silently across the rug, drawing short of where you’re still spread atop the edge of his desk. The shadows dancing along the walls of his study do not conceal the way his tongue flicks out from between his lips, moistening them, the longer he stares between your parted thighs. You clench around nothing under the heat of Shinjuro’s gaze, and his eyes narrow like he knows.

Some of that burning desire tempers as Shinjuro’s eyes flick to your face. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

The abruptness of the question catches you off guard, and you’re shaking your head before you remember to demand why he’s asking in the first place.

Shinjuro’s eyes harden. “You’ve had the nerve to fuck this girl under my roof and you still haven’t knocked her up?” He scoffs, turning his attention back to his son. “I impregnated your mother the first time I brought her here. Have you no shame?”

A quiet anger simmers in Kyojuro’s eyes. “She’s on birth control.”

“No fuckin’ excuse,” Shinjuro pushes past his eldest, his eyes locked between your thighs, still spread wide. “The Rengoku family is known for its virility. You’ve embarrassed that legacy. Go sit down.”

Wordlessly, Kyojuro backs away, his anger burning hotly on his face. He crosses to one of the great, stuffed leather armchairs to the side of the hearth where the fire roars and settles in, his eyes bright.

Shinjuro turns his ire back to you. “You see that ring on your finger? The one paid for with our family’s money?” And your eyes drop to the beautiful engagement ring sitting on your left hand, placed there by Kyojuro. “That’s not just a gift, sweetheart. Deal was you get the ring and you give this family your womb.”

Some fiery, rebellious part of you balks at that, overtakes your own common senses. “The wedding is still a few months away.”

“You think that fuckin’ matters? That ring means you’re part of this family, little girl. And being in this family means pulling your weight.”

He reaches for you then, and it takes a concentrated amount of effort to not flinch away from him, no matter how wetness pools between your legs.

Shinjuro’s fingers curl around your forearm, tugging it away to expose your breasts.

“Not bad.” He clicks his tongue. He palms one in his hand, rolling it, pinching it between rough yet warm fingers, as though testing it. With an alarming swiftness, the tension in your limbs eases, your body turning pliant and supple under his touch, confident and knowing. The faint moans trembling in your throat under your future-in-law’s inspections quickly choke off with a yelp as Shinjuro gives one tit a firm slap.

He smirks. “They’ll be better once you’re good and fat with a kid. What, with your milk and all.” He closes his eyes and shudders. “So fuckin’ sweet. I couldn’t get enough of it with Rukka.”

Shinjuro jerks his head at Kyojuro where he settles into the great leather armchair by the mantle. “He’ll like it, too. Little degenerate, just like his old man.”

He fondles you once more, pulling a small whimper from you that makes him smirk. Shinjuro eyes one of the hickeys near the top of your nipple, left behind by Kyojuro’s earlier attentions and with a faint sneer, he flicks it.

You gasp and arch into him, goosebumps skittering along your skin and you quietly present yourself for more. The way he continues to palm you — rolling each breast in his hand, testing its weight — leaves you with the distinct impression that you’re little more than some prized brooding mare and he, your inspector. That feeling is only amplified when Shinjuro suddenly grabs your hips and forces you back against his desk, maneuvering your body in different positions to see how you bend.

“Arches her back nicely,” he remarks casually, as though discussing something as tepid as the weather. “Feels flexible, too. But none of that means shit if she’s not fertile.”

Shinjuro steps back, his hands planted on his hips, expectant. “Let’s see what we’re working with, girl. On the floor,” When you don’t move, too frozen atop the desk and uncertain of what he’s asking, he nods at the rug. “Go on — present yourself for me. Need to inspect the goods.”

With shaking legs, you lower yourself off the desk. Cheeks flushed with heat, you cast one last, anxious glance at your fiancé. Kyojuro, however, says nothing, his eyes boring into yours as he waits.

You’re doing this; you’re actually doing this. You are willingly lowering yourself to the great, ornate rug sprawled across the floor of the study, knees first, and then your hands, followed by your forearms.

Your heart hammers away at your chest as you wait, ass held high in the air, your cunt on open display. A soft thump of a body lowering itself behind you is followed by rough fingers that spread your ass cheeks, forcing your thighs to shift and widen. The faintest tickle of warm breath fans over your heated, drooling center, and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip to keep from crying out in desperation.

“Pretty little pussy,” Shinjuro hums with faint appreciation. Two, thick fingers swipe harshly through your dampened folds, spreading your wetness from your clit to your entrance. “Glad he at least knows how to get you warmed up. You’re fucking soaked.”

His fingers circle your opening, pressing against it just enough to make you squirm into the rug, but not enough to alleviate the nearly painful way your cunt continues to flutter and clench around nothing.

“How does she take it — oh,” you can hear Shinjuro’s leering smirk as he slips his finger inside your fluttering entrance. “Sucked me right in. Least she knows what to do when she’s got somethin’ in her.”

He pumps another finger lazily into you as you moan your encouragement. “Does she taste as sweet as she smells?” Shinjuro’s voice is faintly hoarse as he addresses his son.

There’s a pause that seems to stretch on for an eternity. “Sweeter.” Comes Kyojuro’s answer, strained, though you cannot see his face from where his father has crowded you into the rug. “Father —“

“I ain’t gonna taste her.” Shinjuro brushes off your fiancé’s warning, flippant. “Don’t need to. She’s ready for a good breeding, I can tell just by the smell of her.” A sharp slap of a hand against your sex pulls a yelp from you, and yet you can’t stop from wiggling your hips in a silent plea for more. “But you have failed your duty in bringing about the next generation of our family. You both have.”

There’s a rustle of clothing behind you followed by the distinct click of a belt buckle. “So I’m correcting it.”

Shinjuro’s fingers find your clit again, his quiet signal that he is addressing you even though he turns your brain to mush beneath his expert touch. “Looks like I’ve gotta show my boy how to properly breed a woman, since he’s yet to put his brat in you.”

Your stomach clenches. If not for Shinjuro’s leg wedged thickly between yours, keeping you spread for him, you would’ve pressed your thighs together in anticipation.

Shinjuro shifts behind you, pushing his pants down past his knees. Your curiosity is too great to resist, and slyly, you throw a glance over your shoulder, eager to see if your predictions about the Rengoku patriarch’s endowments ring true.

Before you can confirm, a rough, demanding hand ensares itself in your hair. With a hard shove, Shinjuro forces your head down, deepening the arch in your back. Behind you, Kyojuro makes some faint noise of discontent at his father’s roughness with you, but he does not interfere.

“I can only assume it’s ‘cause he’s not fuckin’ you properly. That’s what happens when you spread your legs for boys. They don’t know what you need.” He lines his tip up with your entrance. “Need a man to fuck you right.”

With a single, deep thrust, Kyojuro’s father bottoms out inside you.

He does not bother to give you time to adjust to him; he’s moving before you manage to choke out a small sound of surprise, one that’s lost to the fierce smacking of skin meeting skin.

“You need to— fuck — her — like — this —“ Shinjuro grinds out, each word punctuated with a sharp slap of his pelvis against your rear. The fat of your ass jiggles with every lurid thrust, and the elder Rengoku’s balls — heavy and full of cum that you know he’s going to insist on unloading inside you — smacks against your clit in time with his movements.

A responsive moan vaguely registers to your right, and with great effort, you turn your head toward the sound, eyes squinting through the stray strands of hair that have fallen over your face.

You spy Kyojuro, seated in the great leather armchair by the study’s fireplace. His cheeks are pink and his eyes are bright as he watches where his father appears and disappears into your body. In his hand is his cock. Its tip matches the color of his lips, parted as he pants against the languid pumps of his fist.

Shinjuro must catch sight of his son too, and it only spurs him to move faster; harder. “You like looking at her while she gets fucked, don’t you?”

You crane your neck further to watch for your fiancé’s answer, but a pointed slam of Shinjuro’s cock deep into your warmth forces your eyes back into your head. The stretch from him is incredible and unlike anything you’ve ever experienced, even with Kyojuro; a burning fullness that is almost as uncomfortable as it is pleasurable.

Kyojuro must nod, for his father only scoffs in dismissal.

“Yeah, I see why. She’s a pretty fuckin’ thing, isn’t she?” A harsh slap of his hand against your ass nearly sends you jolting forward. “Bet you treat her like a little princess; too delicate to handle a good pounding.”

If you weren’t so fixated on the way your breasts scrape against the coarse rug beneath you in a dizzying blend of pain-tinged pleasure, you might have laughed. Kyojuro was an adventurous lover, and a considerate one at that. But that didn’t mean he didn’t know how to pin you down and fuck you when you wanted him to. Though, even Kyojuro’s roughest moments did not compare to the way his father now brutally fucked you into the floor of his study, his cock fat and heavy; as hard as steel.

Unlike Kyojuro, there is nothing loving about this; no tenderness. Shinjuro’s movements are nothing more than pure domination. He is not demanding your submission; he is forcing it.

The conversation between father and son is accompanied by a score of wet, sticky slaps of Shinjuro’s hips against your ass and the tiny little oh! oh! ohs! that you whimper into the rug. You soon find it impossible to fix your gaze on anything other than the diamond sitting delicately on your left ring finger; the way it glints and shines in the firelight as your fiancé’s father fucks you harder into the floor.

“That’s where you’ve gone wrong, boy. Fertile little things like this don’t want to romanced.” One broad, rough hand snaked up your spine to grip the nape of your neck, pushing your head down hard into the rug. “They want to be used.”

Shinjuro laughs, a harsh, jeering sound. “Just wanna be fucked stupid, isn’t that right?” His fingers tighten around your neck, commanding your attention despite the way he’s fucking your brain numb. “You just want someone to pump a baby into you. You’re desperate for it, aren’t you?”

The skin of your kneecaps burn from the way they scrape against the rug under your future in-law’s unyielding pace, and it’s because of that stinging pain that you’re able to ground yourself enough to manage a single, jerky nod of your head.

“Tch. Then why are you on birth control?” Shinjuro growls between vicious, forceful thrusts, his pelvis slapping hard against your backside. “You holding out on this family?”

Shinjuro draws nearly all the way out before he slams back into you, the blunt head of his cock bullying right up against your sweet spot. A slew of profanities pour from your mouth into the rug below, and your toes curl violently as he shifts his hips forward and keeps himself pressed right against it, stilling his movements.

You want to howl; he’s pushed right against the most sensitive part inside your body, one that Kyojuro knows will have you making a mess of both yourself and him after only a few grazes. And yet, his father, the bastard that he is, has the head of his cock jammed right against it, with seemingly no inclination of moving anytime soon.

Nor does he seem to care how you writhe and whimper into his rug, either. Your legs vibrate against the floor, and your hips move of their own volition, desperate for relief, but Shinjuro’s hold on your neck strengthens.

It’s torture and he must know it. “Answer me.”

“Not ready!” You gasp, your hands balling into fists against the carpet, your nails biting into your palms as the throbbing deep in your cunt becomes nearly excruciating. “We said — ngh — we said we weren’t ready yet!”

You cry out at the sting of a hand smacking hard at your ass. “You’re marrying into an old family, sweetheart.” Shinjuro spanks you again, and tears spring into your eyes. Yet, despite the pain, you only throw your hips back, desperate for more. “Money ain’t a concern. Your job is to birth the next generation of Rengokus.”

Despite his admonition, Shinjuro resumes his movements, easing back into his previous pace as though he hadn’t paused to start. You nearly cry out in relief, your hips circling and grinding against him for more, just more.

“Doesn’t matter, now. Don’t worry, you pretty little thing. You’ll be begging me to put a son in you soon enough. But until then —“ a rough, bruising hand snakes its way into your hair, balling it between his fingers. Shinjuro jerks hard on your head before he mashes it into the rug below, your cheek chafing against the rough carpet. “I don’t want to hear a damn word out of you. My son needs to be taught a lesson.”

Your eyes strain to seek out your fiance once more. Kyojuro’s blush has deepened to a fierce crimson, though his eyes darken at the way his father shoves you down into the floor.

Kyojuro is a passionate lover; while he can and does fuck you hard, he always keeps well behind the line between rough sex and cruelty. His father, it seems, toes that boundary far more closely. You can tell this bothers your beloved fiance by the hard set of his jaw and the wait his teeth grit together.

And yet, as the noises pouring from your mouth out of you slide from high-pitched, breathy whimpers to deep, sultry moans, and the study fills with pointed wet schlicking sound as the Rengoku patriarch continues fucking you without mercy, Kyojuro does not interject.

His hand only tightens around his cock; the tempo of his movements, only growing in speed.

Shinjuro’s grip on your neck loosens before his hand pulls back to rejoin the other at your hips. A low whistle blows past his lips. “If only you could see the way she’s creamin’ all over me, Kyojuro — filthy thing loves being used.”

He grunts appreciatively as he jerks you back to meet his rapid movements. “Does she always make this mess on you?”

A deep, rumbling groan is Kyojuro’s only answer, and his father chuckles.

“I figured. Look at her, suckin’ me in like this. Practically beggin’ me to fuck a child into her.”

A sharp smack cuts through the air like a knife, the skin of your ass stinging as Shinjuro cocks his hand back and spanks you again. Harder and harder he rides you, and the bruising ache blooming between your thighs is one you know you’ll feel for days.

Shinjuro’s next thrust is forceful enough that it lays him nearly flat against your back, his chest heavy and hot, dampened with sweat. The coarse hair covering his sternum scrapes at your shoulders as the elder Rengoku tightens his hold on your hips.

“You picked a ripe one, Kyojuro, I’ll give you that. Pretty little cunt like this was meant to be filled.” A hand winds under you, and Shinjuro’s palm presses flat against your lower belly. “With hips like this, she was made to give this family more sons.”

“Pussy is even better pregnant.” Shinjuro declares to no one in particular, his whiskey-tinged breath hot against your ear. “All the hormones and shit. Makes things tighter. Wetter.” You twitch violently into him as his thumb glides harshly over your clit. “More sensitive too. Ain’t that right, sweetheart?”

“You want her pregnant, don’t you, Kyojuro?” And before his son can answer, Shinjuro snorts. “Yeah, you do. Bet you’ve even beat off to the image of it — her all fat and swollen with a kid, tits leaking, pussy sweeter than wine. I know I would.”

Beads of sweat roll down the thick planes of Shinjuro’s chest and abdomen, staining your back. Each jolt of his body into yours produces a wet thwap that joins the lewd squelching your cunt as it gushes around his cock, as his body suctions to yours.

Teeth, sharp and brutal, nip harshly at your neck. “I like to think I’ve spoiled my boys, Y/N.” Your future in-law growls lowly in your ear. “They may not agree. But they didn’t want for nothin’. And I still like to indulge ‘em, every now and again.”

Shinjuro’s rough hand reaches under you to palm at your tits. “You love being a big brother, don’t you, Kyojuro? How about I put a new baby brother in your fiancé’s womb for ya? How’s that for a gift?”

You clench hard, your stomach nearly convulsing at how tightly you grip onto the thick cock bullying relentlessly into you right as Kyojuro looses a great, cracked moan.

“What my boy wants, he gets.” Shinjuro sounds so casual as he peels himself off you, straightening back up on his knees. One hand moves to press down on your lower back, deepening the arch of your spine until your ass returns to its position high in the air.

His grip on your hips tightens with bruising force as he resumes jerking you back to meet his movements. “You ready to beg yet, sweetheart? You gonna let me breed this tight little cunt? Give your fiancé a new brother to spoil?”

You hardly recognize any of the sounds pouring out of you, unable to concentrate on anything but the way the ache in your groin deepens, your desperate need to be filled becoming damn near painful.

Behind you, Shinjuro chuffs through gritted teeth. “Yeah, you’d like that, huh? You’d love walking around, plump and round with your father-in-law’s bastard, wouldn’t ya? It’d be your dirty little secret.”

There’s a frenzy to his movements now, the more Shinjuro becomes lost in his own fantasy. His balls slap harshly against your clit, the coarse thicket of his hair scraping against your raw flesh as the coil in your stomach begins to tighten. “Everyone would see you and my boy together and think such lovely things; a new family starting out. No one would know — no one would guess that you were pregnant because of how much you like bending over for your fiancé’s old man to let him breed you like the sow you are.”

The image of it — of you, attending some fancy gala with Kyojuro, happy and glowing while his father’s baby grows steadily in your stomach — has you throwing your hips back, circling and grinding with a desperation that makes your fiancé’s father laugh, harsh and bitter.

The sound only makes you clench harder around him. God, you need it; him, of all fucking people.

Shinjuro.

“Please, please, please —!” The request rolls freely off your tongue before you can think the better of it. Across the room, Kyojuro cries out, as wanton and desperate as you.

“Please,” Shinjuro mocks. “Please what?”

“A baby — give me a baby, please! Oh please please —“

“You want to give me another son, huh? Fucking mine isn’t enough for you?”

“Yes!” You sob, the skin of your cheek burning where it mashes against the rug, but you’re far too gone to care. “A son, please, oh please put a son in me! I want to be good, let me be good —“

You’ll do it, you’ll give the Rengoku family as many heirs as they need to know your worth; to know that Kyojuro made the right choice when he got down on one knee and presented you with a ring worth more than your own salary.

“Bout damn time you see things our way,” Shinjuro growls, and he shifts forward, planting one foot by your knee. “I’ll stuff you full.”

He bends over you again, his chest forcing your back to flatten, and you nearly drool at the coarse prickle of chest hair where it rubs between your shoulders.

The scent of woodsmoke and fine whisky clouds your head. “Tell me, do you think my son will still fuck you even while you’re carrying his brother?” Shinjuro’s eyes dart to where Kyojuro sits, his head thrown back and thighs spread wide as he pumps himself, a deep, drawn-out moan rumbling in his chest.

Shinjuro conceals his grin against the side of your head, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear. “Yeah,” he chuckles. “Yeah, I think he will. Your pussy’s too fuckin’ sweet to resist, isn’t that right, Kyojuro?”

“Yes.” Comes Kyojuro’s single reply, little more than a strained groan.

It’s too much; the obvious need in your fiancé’s voice coupled with the way his father so ruthlessly pumps into you, his cock stretching and filling you so perfectly as he hammers away all the right spots forces your eyes back into your head, your fingers clawing at the rug chafing your skin raw. The pressure in your stomach mounts until you feel almost ready to burst, every inch of you trembling as you wait for that familiar coil to spring.

Shinjuro swears lowly, once, sensing just how close you are to breaking apart, before he recovers.

“Just think, boy.” He calls out to his son, his voice boastful despite how he clenches his jaw. “Once her milk comes in, we won’t have to take turns having a taste. All we gotta do is sit her between us and each take a tit. Fun little father-son bonding. Whaddya say?”

Your eyes fly open. The image of it — of you straddled between the two Rengokus, both mouthing hotly at your swollen, aching breasts while your stomach sits round and full with a child that might have been fathered by one as much as the other — is your undoing.

Somewhere in the depths of the Rengoku ancestral estate, Kyojuro’s brother sleeps. You can only hope that his slumber remains peaceful, given the loud, cracked scream that rips free from you, burning your throat as your climax slams into you like a freight.

The coil in your stomach does not unwind; it explodes, blows apart in a mess of shrapnel capped with prolonged cry as your walls squeeze around your lover’s father’s thick, demanding cock.

“Oh fuck, she’s good,” Shinjuro throws his head back, eyes rolling into his head at the way your cunt seizes around him like a vice. “Harder, Y/N. Your father in law wants you to cum fuckin’ harder.”

One hand unlatches itself from its bruising grip at your hip, curling under you. Shinjuro pinches your clit firmly between the roughened pads of his fingers and your stomach seizes. A violent spasm of hot, searing pleasure rips sharply through your groin, sparking gush of sticky fluid to spring forth and coat the rug below.

“Daddy!” You cry out, too fucked out of your mind to fully register what has escaped your mouth; the slip you’ve made.

Daddy is reserved for Kyojuro — and under specific circumstances. Only after you’d been your most difficult, your most rotten, such that Kyojuro knew you were baiting him, waiting for him to pin you down and give you exactly what you wanted and set you right. Only after you were looking up at him through glassy eyes, so unbelievably fucked out of your head did the word Daddy ever leave your lips.

In a way, you suppose those conditions were present here. After all, it was your fiance who suggested you’d pranced around the Rengoku ancestral estate in your red dress to frustrate both him and his father. And Shinjuro is, in fact, fucking you halfway to hell and back, your brain having nearly liquified in your skull.

So really, he can’t fault you for getting your wires crossed.

“Daddy! Fuck — oh fuck, yes, yes, Daddy, daddy —!”

Kyojuro moans back in response, and that single sound — a ragged, pleasure-delirious thing — only makes you clamp down harder around his father’s thick cock.

“Yeah,” Shinjuro snorts, his laugh dark and cruel. “Yeah, I’m your fuckin’ daddy, aren’t I?”

You continue to howl for him until your voice gives out, quieting down in time with the slow ebbing of your climax, your body turning limp limb by limb. When the last of your orgasm echoes through you, you nearly collapse prostrate into the rug. You would have, if not for the bruising grip of hands latched firmly to your hips, keeping you in place.

You’re only permitted to relax for a moment before Shinjuro decides it’s time for him to make good on his oath to fuck a son into you.

A single, long draw of his hips nearly pulls his cock free of your sopping heat. But before that can happen, Shinjuro’s fingers dig into the fleshy part above your waist and without warning, he slams back into you, hard and brutal.

Air wheezes out of your lungs and you’re forced out of your post-orgasm haze, yanked right from the clouds of bliss and dropped back in the study as he repeats the movement once, twice.

You scramble to find purchase, your arm flailing out before you as you scramble to find purchase. Before you can, however, one rough, callused hand wraps firmly around your bicep, holding you down against the floor. The other snakes to your wrist and wrenches that arm behind your back, pinning it in place at the bottom of your spine.

And Shinjuro fucks you. Hard. Even more so than before.

You’re utterly at his mercy; little more than a toy, bouncing between his body and the floor of his sprawling study as Shinjuro chases his release. Your legs will be rubbed raw with friction, both from the rug beneath your knees and your hamstrings where Shinjuro’s thighs press firmly into yours, his hair as coarse and wild as what grows from his head.

Behind you, the elder Rengoku’s breaths have turned ragged.

“Hold her — fuck — hold her down like this when you cum.”

Whereas Kyojuro’s climaxes are always accompanied by loud, strangled groans, euphoric and lilting, Shinjuro comes with a deep, snarling grunt. With a final, bruising thrust, fiancés father-bottoms out inside you. His hips shove heavily into yours, pushing hard against your ass as he presses his cock as deep as possible. The force of it bends your spine, making Shinjuro distribute half his weight between his hips and his arms where he holds you down. He comes as powerfully as he’d claimed you, his orgasm every bit as punishing and relentless as the rest of him.

Your eyes roll back into your head at the first spurt of his cum, your mouth falling open. Drool leaks from the corner of your mouth, trickling down your cheek and dampening the fibers of the rug.

Deep; your father-in-law’s cock is so fucking deep in you, his cum hot and thick as it coats your womb. Distantly, you hear the pleasured cry of Kyojuro as he reaches his own climax, his seed spilling hot and fast over his fist as he watches his father unload himself inside you.

“Feel me pulsing, doll?” Shinjuro grits through clenched teeth. “That’s me puttin’ our next heir in you.”

The only response you can manage is a faint moan. It takes a moment for you to feel it; the tell-tale gush of cum that always leaks out of you after you’ve been filled, tangible proof of how thoroughly you’d been claimed. And it strikes you that the delay is the result of how deep inside of you Shinjuro had been when he came.

Deeper, you silently concede, albeit begrudgingly, than Kyojuro has ever reached.

But then it comes; a thick trickle of hot fluid spilling over where your bodies are connected, Shinjuro’s balls twitching against your throbbing clit as he continues to unload himself inside you. Dizzy with the pleasure of feeling his cum, so warm and viscous, you cant your hips back into his, mewling your gratitude.

Full; you’re so very full of your father-in-law’s cock and cum. So very sated.

There’s a triumphant exhale behind you, and you don’t need to turn to know Shinjuro wears that self-satisfied smirk of his, the one he always had whenever he successfully trounced his son in front of an audience. His hand releases its crushing grip on the wrist he’d pinned behind your back in favor of rubbing your ass where it circles against his base, though whether it’s out of appreciation for you or a further brag to his son, you can’t say.

The elder Rengoku holds himself in place for a moment longer, ensuring every last drop of his seed is properly deposited into your waiting womb. Only when he’s satisfied nothing remains, does he pull out, not bothering to give you any warning as your body spasms and winces at the loss of his warmth.

The air at your back turns cool, no longer invaded by his lumbering body. A chill snakes down your spine at the sudden draftiness of the study as the sweat glistening along your back and staining your dress cools. Some of your awareness — and your contempt — returns to you as the spell cast over you by Shinjuro dissipates. You focus on each muscle of your body, identifying what you’re still able to love as you prepare to push yourself up from the floor, when two, broad hands latch around your waist.

Shinjuro cares not for your small whimpers and whines as he forces you to turn around on your raw knees, not letting you rest until your rear faces Kyojuro.

“There, that’s a properly bred pussy,” Shinjuro announces with a not-so-gentle smack of his hand against your swollen, dripping folds. “Take a look, son.”

A derisive snort shoves its way through your nose. Of course, it isn’t enough for Shinjuro to have fucked his son’s fiance right in front of him; now he has to show off his work.

But do you resist? Of course not, nor does Kyojuro protest, panting as he comes down from his own high where he sits near the fireplace.

“See that?” Two rough fingers catch a thick bead of Shinjuro’s cum as it slides down your inner thigh. “You want a baby? Don’t let a single drop go to waste. Fingers or your cock, it doesn’t matter — just make sure it stays inside.”

You focus on calming your own breathing, relief settling into your bones as Shinjuro pulls his hand away at last.

A moment passes, undisturbed except for the labor of your mutual breathing, when Shinjuro breaks the silence once more.

“But I’m gonna let you fuck my seed back into her.”

And with that, he leaves you crumpled helplessly on the floor, departing only with a sharp smack to your ass, still held high in the air.

He motions for Kyojuro to move and confounding, his son complies, half-jumping out of the leather armchair in his haste, his pants around his knees. Wordlessly, Shinjuro settles into his seat, one arm folded behind his head, his bicep bulging while his other hand wraps around his drooling cock, still hard and shiny with the combination of your cum and his.

“Go on, boy,” the elder Rengoku juts his chin to where you lay limp on the floor, your red dress pulled down bunched around your waist. He gives himself a firm pump with his fist and his mouth settles into a leering smirk. “Show me what you’ve learned.”

I’ll see you all in hell

[animedumpfanfics]

PLUG!CHOSO

✎₊˚⊹♡ summary: i got to thinking about weed dealer choso and how you would be his favorite customer ˚ ༘ .˚🌱୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ wc: 4k

🏷 tags/warnings: fem!reader, reader has a vagina, weed dealer choso, you get high, mentions of cannabis, smoking, hotboxing high sex, petnames (ma, mamas) black coded, size kink, choso is big and has a big cock, oral (f/m receive), sex, smut, nsfw, creaming, squirting, also choso has a nose ring, sortve proofread!

Plug!Choso who you have known since childhood. While you never spoke (due to different circles) he always had his eye on you was determined to date you one day. His adolescent years where him and irrelevant friends would discuss their crushes, he always sang your praises behind your back about how enamored he was with you. It got to the point where his friends stopped asking who his crush was because they knew the answer would always be you.

Plug!Choso who grows up to be handsome and dashing. A usual rule follower who turned into something different after graduating High School. College wasn't his thing and eventually he found himself in a situation where he was moving pounds of marijuana. You heard this news through the grapevine and was pretty shocked to hear how the quieter boy turned into something totally different than you expected.

Plug!Choso's information gets passed onto you when you move back to town and need a dealer. One of your trusted best friend's — Nobara — assures you he's legit and pretty reasonable which is hard to find being femme and looking for a trusted dealer in that industry. With your friend's testimony and knowing of him since birth, you got in contact with him one evening when you had trouble sleeping.

Plug!Choso who does not recognize your number when you reach out to him. He starts to ignore it until he sees Nobara sent him a warning text that you would be reaching out to him. Word don't do justice to how wide his grin spread as he typed a reply to your request to cop a quarter ounce.

Plug!Choso who lives up to your expectations the moment you two meet in the parking garage of your apartment. You sat in the comfort in your car, seeing a sleek black Audi pull up next to you. Looking over you notice a devilishly handsome face and it sends your stomach twisting and fluttering. He shoots you a charismatic grin as he was hopping out his car. He stands tall, sexy and wearing all black before he rounds your car. You unlock the door allowing him to slide into the passenger seat.

"Long time no see, ma how you been?"

Plug!Choso who has the nerve to smile after calling you a pet name and you fight grinning back. It's been years since you seen Choso and you had no idea he would be this fine. You saw the photos, but fuck they did not do justice as you looked him over. Daring and badass tattoo on his face — a solid black line that went horizontal across the bridge of his nose and stretched to his cheeks. Not to mention the annoyingly cute silver hoop he had in his left nostril. You weren't sure how much longer you could stay in close quarters with him looking this fine.

Plug!Choso has you playing it cool, offering him a friendly smile before you engaged in a conversation of catch up. The man giving you his full attention before you finished up.

"Dope, that's whats up. I got that quarter you asked for but since I haven't seen you in awhile let me smoke you out first."

Plug!Choso fights a grin when you agree to smoking in your car. He immediately pulls out a pre-rolled blunt and a lighter. You grin, laughing aloud as you start to tease him.

"Came ready huh?"

"I'm always ready, mama."

Plug!Choso and you share a blunt, laughing and giggling at one another. Choso learned that night that you were not only stunning, but hilarious. His stomach hurt from laughing and he tried to ignore the fact that he was getting increasingly turned on the more he spent time with you. You had unzipped your hoodie during the hotbox session, showing off your low cut cami and breasts that sat perky. He swallowed thickly and he tried to ignored his cock that was wanting to join the party.

"You might be my favorite customer." Plug!Choso would say after you made him laugh again. You snort, grabbing the blunt and inhaling generously. You stifle a cough before handing him the blunt back.

"I'm sure you say that to all your femme customers." You would say, even though reading his energy, you didn't believe your own words. However, playing a game you had to see where he was at with his intentions.

"Nah, just the ones I been crushing on since kindergarten."

the information comes to a surprise to you and you look to him with shock plastered all over your face. He only grins shyly back at you, taking a hit from the blunt and letting the cannabis help give him courage to a confession he’s been sitting on for years.

“You f’real?” Was all you could get out of your mouth and he can’t help but laugh. You laugh at yourself too but he nods, deciding one drag wasn’t enough and he needs another to calm his nerves.

“Deadass, y/n.” He says seriously and you can only feel your cheeks heat up. You look at him, holding his gaze as he hands the blunt back to you. You hold it in your hand, silent and taking a moment to gather your words. He starts to panic but then you move your mouth to speak.

“So what you gonna do about it now, Cho?” A cocky smirk on your mouth as you bring the blunt to your mouth. You inhale, hallowing your cheeks as you see the playful expression on his face. You can only think to yourself at how fucking handsome he is. And how that you were in the most ideal situation with said handsome man for something to happen. The close quarters with the cannabis involved…

you were surprised you were still in your seat — but then Choso spoke:

“Whatever you let me do, mama.”

And you lost your self control.

Plug!Choso who contains his excitement when you reach across him to let his seat back. You then climb over the console, sitting your weight fully on his lap as he decided to recline the seat. He lays back as you lean down, sitting on his lap. The thrill outweighing any rational thought that attempted to halt your actions. All those rational thoughts completely ceasing the moment your lips find his.

the kiss are slow, languid but desperate to get to know each other. Choso’s broad hands are finding the purchase of your back, groaning against your lips at how little you feel in his hands. You were the perfect size for him and the way you suck and nibble on his lips he knew you were going to be trouble. But he needed you to himself after having this taste. He couldn’t and wouldn’t let you pass through his fingertips.

Plug!Choso who makes out with you feverishly in your hot boxed car. Your hips want to ride against his cock that pokes against your thigh. You try to feel embarrassed at how desperately you fight against his hold to grind against his print, but the desire between your legs outweighs any decorum to had left. You feel hot and all you want to do is ride Choso in your car.

Plug!Choso is about to give in with the way you continue to lick at his lips. He opens his mouth to speak but your soft tongue slips past, causing him to stop talking and fall back into a tranquil state. Your wet muscle tasting and savoring every bit of Choso and he feels his dick jumping in his sweats. He’s seconds away from pulling his cock out before his phone rings. You pull away, the noise startling you and breaking the kiss. Choso reaches over to see the caller ID, seeing its Suguru.

“Hold on baby, it’s big bro.”

He answers the call and instantly regrets it because when he does it’s dire and requires he leave your presence. You can’t help it and you feel awkward — and let down — as he says he has to bounce. You crawl out of his lap and land back into the driver seat as he gathers himself. He fishes the quarter ounce of weed out of his pocket you originally asked for and he places it gently into you lap before sighing.

“Don’t worry about paying. Sorry I gotta leave.”

You assure Plug!Choso that its fine and that you will pay but when he shoots you a look you smile softly, uttering a thank you instead of continuing to press on repaying him.

“Its okay. That plug life.” You say understandably and he only nods his head. He quickly looks you over, eyeing you up and down as if he's debating something. Before you can ask him anything he brings his face close to yours, kissing your lips gently and knocking the breath out of you. He pulls away, looking in your eyes intensely and then replies.

“I’ll make it up to you.” He promises. Despite having fun, you didn’t hold your breath desperate he would prove you wrong.

and to your amazement, he does

It would be a couple days when Plug!Choso would text you asking you cheekily when would you be free to “run back the other night” (in his words!) and you have to fight with all your might to hide the stupid grin that stretched across your face (and you failed by the way and miserably).

Plug!Choso who pops by your apartment later that night with snacks, weed, and a bottle of liquor. You can only attempt to hide your excitement when he walked through your door, tall and handsome just as the other night. This time he wears a pair of black jeans, hoodie, and jacket thrown over. His hair is down and framed around his face gorgeously and while you try to hide your staring, Choso doesn't hide his. He's taking in your biker shorts that complimented your ass favorably and showed off your legs he was dying to have wrapped around his waist.

Plug!Choso and you have a successful night in. The TV is playing, a irrelevant series playing as you two gave each other your undivided attention. You found out more about each other and the more you two learned, the more you both became infatuated with one another. It had been awhile since a man had caught your attention and held it intensely. And while you thought that about Choso, he thought the same about you.

Plug!Choso who smokes you out to the point where your mind is numb but he's no better. He was pleasantly surprised at your weed tolerance being on par with his. Choso didn't know what he was going to do with you, but he did know he was about to take you off the map. Before he could stop himself his mouth is moving.

"Ma, I just realized I aint ever ask." He would say to you and you would raise your eyebrow. You lift your hand to your mouth, dragging from the current lit blunt you and Choso were working on.

"Ask what, Cho?" You say after exhaling. You take another hit from the blunt before passing it to Choso. He has a lazy grin as he takes the blunt. He looks at you, pausing briefly and his grin stretches wider. You start to ask him what is it before he cuts you off and leaves you speechless.

"You ain't got no one right?" Plug!Choso asks shyly and it has you grinning. You shake your head at his nature.

"No, do you?" You ask him, raising your eyebrow to await his answer. He smiles back at you before taking a soft hit from the blunt. He shakes his head as he exhales.

"Nah, but I'm hoping you could change that."

Plug!Choso who's a smooth motherfucker in how he shows he is interested in you. You can only grin once again. His charisma is something so suave and alluring, yet he was so shy and humble about it. Choso was checking all your boxes and the fact that he was respectful with you thus far, why not give him a chance?

And you do, by leaning forward to kiss him on your couch. He only sits back, grabbing your waist and places you in his lap. You settle like you were made to be there, hands touching his face and holding it with your hands. He has his hands on your waist just like that first night, this time letting you rut against his lap. He groans at the feeling, feeling his cock tense at the sudden sensation. You moan against his lips, feeling that print slowly start to poke at your inner thigh.

"Want you." You said against his lips and those are two words Choso had been waiting to hear for god know's how long. He began to smile in between kisses and he trails a hand up to your hoodie, tugging at the hem. It was two words and sweet petname that left his mouth next that had you on cloud nine for the rest of the night.

"I'm yours, ma."

Plug!Choso found himself on cloud nine with you the moment you wrapped your mouth around his leaky tip. He groaned, your wet hot lips suckling on his angry red tip. His hand is in your hair as you slowly took every inch of his thick cock in your mouth. You never had a cock this big in your mouth before, but it was worth it with the way Choso cussed and moaned above you. Your eyes open, looking up to him and you moan softly around him when you take in the sight of him falling a part.

Plug!Choso who can't believe he's threatening to spill his load down your tight throat the moment you look at him. Your pretty eyes staring at him as you take his cock in your mouth and the sight is so filthy yet so beautiful he wishes he could take a picture. He bites his lip, hand coming to your cheek as he caresses it tenderly. His other hand grabs your hair to pull it out of your face.

"Fuck, so pretty with my cock in your mouth, mama." He praised in that deep husky voice. You moaned in response, rubbing your thighs together at his praises and delicate touches. You wanted him so bad you felt that ache in your cunt that could only be cured with Choso's big cock deep inside you. Hungry for more moans, you take more of him in your mouth, tip nudging its way down your throat and earning what you sought out. Choso curses, toes curling in his shoes as he threw his head back. His head hits the back of the couch with a thud but he doesn't even care. Not with the way you continue to take him in your mouth and then swallow around him.

"Ah, shit —Y/n get up here." He commanded and you let his dick fall out your mouth lewdly. There's spit, drool, and cum around your lips and chin. There is even a small string of salvia connected from your bottom lip to the tip of his glistening cock. You can only grin at him, licking your lips as you wipe your chin, proud of your work

"Was having fun." You pouted, dramatically extending your bottom lip and he runs his thumb across it. A soft smile and a chuckle leaves his mouth before he speaks.

"Ion wanna cum down your throat pretty girl," he started off, "wanna feel that little pussy on me first." Him explicitly mentioning your cunt set something off in you because you got up from the floor. You held your hand out for him to take, ready to have him fuck the life out of you in your room. He lazily pulled up his pants but kicked off his shoes, getting up from the couch and taking your hand. He licks his lips as he follows you to your room.

Plug!Choso who has to eat your pussy before he sticks his cock in. A small reason is because he needs to relax after that immaculate head you gave him, the biggest reason is that he's been dying to have his face buried between your thighs. His tongue eagerly exploring every fold and curve of your cunt. He nose nudging against your clit as he lapped up the arousal that pooled at your entrance. You found yourself moaning loudly to the point where you were sure the neighbors could hear. You couldn't help it. His tongue circled every part of you so delicately you wanted to run away it felt that good.

He continued, snaking his tongue up from your hole to your swollen bud. You whimper, his hot muscle flickering before he sucked on it. You jolt, back arching as you whimper louder.

"Cho, fuck that feels so good." You sighed, the cannabis mixed with his tongue fucking you so good had you floating. The euphoric pleasure Choso provided, combined with the weed from earlier, you were in pure ecstasy. And you were sure you were soaking between your thighs, but with the way Choso sunk two thick fingers inside you, you knew he didn't care.

Plug!Choso who groans at the feeling of your hot walls around his fingers. He can't wait to feel it around his throbbing cock. You bite your lip, arching once more as your eyes screwed shut. Soft moans left your mouth as he continued to suck on your clit and sink a third finger inside.

"Pussy so tight, who you been fucking with baby?" Plug!Choso had to taunt as he was two knuckles deep in you. You moan at his words before mustering up a reply.

"Not you. Change that now please." You said to him, a little fiesty and you opened your eyes to look down at him. He only gives you a grin — clit still in mouth — when you look at him. You two hold eye contact as he lets go of your clit. He gives it one last, fat and wet lick causing your thighs to shake. He slowly removes his fingers, taking those digits and sticking them in his mouth to taste your cream and arousal. He climbs up your body and then kisses you as he settled between your legs.

Plug!Choso who decided he was really going to take you off the map the moment he slid inside you. The way you squeezed him so tightly and moaned beneath him he wanted the moment to last forever. Fuck, he wanted to live between your legs for the rest of is life as he never wanted to leave that tight squeeze of your cunt.

"So big, Cho." You cried beneath him, feeling so full with him inside you. You wrapped your legs around him tightly, arms around his torso as he fucked you into your mattress. You could only moan helplessly beneath him as each stroke sent shockwaves deep within your belly. Tears were already welling in your eyes at how fucking good he felt. He was just getting started but his cock was hitting all those spots in you effortlessly.

"You're so tight baby," he groaned, "imma have to take this pussy off the map." Plug!Choso is pussy drunk off you just after fucking you for a few minutes. He wasn't embarrassed. He's been with plenty of people and none of them made you feel the way he did. So when you said these next words, he damn near fell in love.

"Do it, i'm yours, Cho." You moaned, clenching tightly around him and digging your heel into his backside. He bottoms out, tip nudging the deepest parts of you and you let out a wail. He moves his head to kiss along your face, peppering you with kisses as he continues to fuck you.

"so perfect for me, ma." he praised, "so good so fucking beautiful." Plug!Choso rambled as he continued to fuck you. You could only whimper and moan at his praises as you were too gone and fucked out from his cock. You knew you were only seconds away from cumming all over him.

And those seconds turned to right now when his fingers found your neglected clit, stimulating and unlocking the final push you needed to tumble into bliss.

"Cho—, cumming!" You let go, cumming and squirting all over him. Choso could only swear, your wails so sexy and sensual he had no choice but to pull out and cum all over your stomach. He strokes his cock, moaning as he paints your belly with his cum and the load is huge. You moan as you watch him spill, the scene too hot for you care about the messiness.

"fuck." He sighed out, panting as he sat on his knees. You giggle and let your head fall back on the pillow. A sigh of content escaped your lips, letting your eyes close for a moment before you felt the bed dip and footsteps thud away. You opened your eyes, seeing Choso already grabbing cleaning wipes that were on your sink to commence the clean up. You swooned as you saw the big man dip back onto the bed, wiping your stomach clean before he worked between your legs.

"So glad you came back into town." Plug!Choso said after you two cleaned up and showered. You could only kiss his cheek, beaming at him as he looked at you. You lick your lips before you replied.

"Me too."

Plug!Choso who talks to you everyday after your hookup. He's healthily obsessed with you, texting you good morning, asking if you ate, and always checking in to see how your day was going. Whenever you were having a bad day, he showed up determined to make it better. He's dependable, sweet, and charming, not to mention he spoils the hell out of you by sending you stacks just because he felt like it — or maybe because you rode him good as hell the night before who knows? You two were absorbed with one another sexually and intimately.

Eventually he asked you to be his girlfriend and there was no surprise there. It was a long time coming especially when he romanced you with a dinner and a dreamy getaway to a luxurious hotel. He had you bent over a jacuzzi tub littered with bubbles and rose petals, deep in your cervix when he asked you formally to be his.

"So you gonna be my girl or what, mama?"

Distracted by his girth stretching you out, it took for an ass slap and a repeated question for you to answer. You wailed out an affirmation to which he kisses up and down your neck before bitting down, surely leaving a hickie. That night becoming special as he made you his and vice versa. And he wanted everyone to know it.

Plug!Choso knew hickies weren't enough and decided he needed to get you a iced out Tiffany bracelet. The pretty bracelet was presented to you casually when he stopped by one day at your apartment. You had lost a cheap bracelet earlier that week and was pretty distraught about it. Choso remembered you crying upon losing it and little did you know that night he went shopping looking at replacements. Choso wanted to give himself boyfriend of the year award when he saw that look on your face when you saw what the gift was.

"Baby oh my god its so pretty," you had said, "but wait how much was this because this does not look like a normal Tiffany bracelet." The cost worrying you but Choso shrugged like he didn't spend tens of thousands of dollars to customize the bracelet.

"Plug life, baby. Don't worry about it I gotchu." Choso said to you, leaning down to kiss your forehead and you didn't press any further. You only then asked him to put it on you as you let his words soothe you into not pressing the matter further. You knew he wouldn't do it if he didn't want to. He only does what it does for you because he wants to

after all, you're Plug!Choso's favorite customer!

©kentolesbian 📓☕︎♫₊˚.🎧 ✩｡ ╰┈┈➤ MASTERLIST!

[animedumpfanfics]

Feelin motivated since these past few jjk episodes aired. I still got a week of kinktober left.

[animedumpfanfics]

choso ‘definitely has the prettiest moans out of all the men in jujutsu kaisen’ kamo.

[animedumpfanfics]

Why is everyone writing all these angsty stuffs. We are already hurting so much. Give us comfort, little bit of hope with your stories writers . Stop breaking our hearts again and again. (Sorry for ranting. I’m depressed )

[animedumpfanfics]

JJK SPOILER!!!

This is when us fanfic readers/ writers stay delulu. Somebody write an alternative storyline cuz I refuse to believe Gojo is done 😭😭😭

[animedumpfanfics]

love the idea that you don’t know that you’re into daddy stuff until toji is whispering it in your ear, his voice gruff and deep and dangerous.

“feeling it in here, baby?” toji asks, his rough palm resting on the pouch of your belly. “daddy’s hitting your good spots, aren’t i?”

you mewl, nodding softly, your damp hair sticking on your forehead. toji hums, his voice rich from where his lips are pressed on the shell of your ear.

“that’s right,” toji murmurs. “daddy loves you so much, my sweet girl.”

he’s pulling out slowly, his palm leaving your belly to hold onto your waist, his thumb dimpling your skin. he hisses at the tight cling of your pussy like it’s trying to suck him back in, wanting his thick cock to nestle back in you.

toji chuckles, nuzzling his nose on your cheek. “daddy’s not going anywhere, love,” he says. he plants a chaste kiss on your jaw before he presses back in just as slowly as he pulled out, like he is proving his words.

you hum, satisfied, your lips tugged in a dopey smile. toji doesn’t see it but he feels the way your pussy squeezes around him, your walls fluttering in their spastic clench, and he chuckles again, his heart full of adoration for you.

“c’mon, darling,” toji says as he presses his pelvis flushed to yours. “tell daddy you love him.”

you moan, your voice scratchy and your tongue heavy. still, you persevere. “i love you daddy,” you manage to grit out amidst the dizzying pleasure.

toji presses another fleeting kiss on the side of your face. “daddy loves you too, sweetheart.” then he is fucking you earnestly.

[animedumpfanfics]

HEART THUMPER (m).

who: haikyuu. bokuto x f!reader. hybrid!au.

info: 3.646k words. smut + light hurt/comfort + fluff.

kinks: bunny hybrid!reader, dog hybrid!bokuto, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names, pussyjob, multiple orgasms, light dumbification, creampie

— this is part of @thepetcafe’s first server collab! make sure you check out all the wonderful entries and show them some love!

check out my other content.

+ this blog contains dark content!

Staring was something you had long since gotten used to. The bunny ears that sat atop your head forever gave away your position in society, leading to the burning stares of those around you. From shameless glares to not-so-subtle glances, you were just…accustomed.

The only place you had found solace was in the cute little isolated cafe near your apartment. It was a hybrids-only place, making it feel homey and safe every time you entered. 

Although, you had to admit that one major reason you found yourself going back over and over again, was the handsome security guard hybrid who worked there.

He was big, muscular and always had such a bright demeanor. Not to mention he was pretty easy on the eyes, with bouncy, floppy ears hidden in his mess of hair. His tail always seemed to be wagging, giving away his chipper mood. His golden eyes always had you entranced for a moment when you met them. To put it simply, you had a crush.

Usually, the walk to the cafe was a nice one – peaceful, albeit with the stares of humans and other hybrids making you uncomfortable. Today, however, it was anything but.

Keep reading

[animedumpfanfics]

Shouta's Scarf Smut Saturday

technically a bit early this week, but.....

notes/summary/warnings: 18+, fem reader; binding cloth usage; Reader has thoughts that can be typical of someone who grew up in a sex-negative environment; Reader has never had a really powerful orgasm before; fic is centered on Reader's needs/pleasure; Reader is about to learn fighting villains isn't the only area where Shouta is S+ in terms of technique

(ahhhhhh, hot dark-haired scarf daddy why aren't you real? 😭😭😭) Of course Shouta wasn't bothered by your deficiency...

...because he didn't see it as a deficiency. When you had first explained how you just didn't orgasm that hard no matter what, he had actually scoffed when you suggested that maybe you just weren't wired that way. Your mouth had fallen open when he pushed you into your mattress, climbed on top of you, and said in a low voice right next to your ear, "That is bullshit put in your head by whatever ass took advantage of your naïveté and inexperience with your own body, and thinks he's too good-looking or endowed or whatever to have to develop technique."

He then declared that he was going to prove that it was quite possible to wring Peak Orgasm out of you and spent the rest of that night gently touching and testing your body with his fingers and his tongue (and--only a few times because he knew you were still a little embarrassed about toys--a vibrator). You felt a little selfish, because Shouta absolutely insisted that you let him be in control, try some different positions and angles with him, and tell him what felt best. You had been a little shy about some of the positions, as you knew that more than a few adults you looked up to would have something to say about a girl who got on all fours for a man, but Shouta had been patient and coaxing as ever.

When he was done with his...research, he was clearly quite aroused. You had begged him to let you take care of him, to let you do something, but he had refused you:

"You're such a sweet angel. But I make it a rule to never come first."

Oh. **

Two days later, as the grey light of an overcast afternoon softly shone into Shouta's apartment while rain gently tapped against the windows, your lover led you by the hand into the bedroom. His oddly ornate bed--a giant four poster passed down from a fondly-remembered ancestor--was stacked with a bunch of pillows of varying heights.

"The pillows are to help support you," he explained. "Make it easier for me to touch the places that seem to please you most."

You nodded, mostly excited, but still a little embarrassed by what your parents or, heaven forbid, your grandmother, rest her soul, would say if they saw you doing something so nakedly focused on pleasure. Shouta seemed to have no such hang-ups, and he helped you lean back on the pillows while giving you a deep kiss.

You had been replaying the sensations of Shouta's explorations from a couple of days ago over and over in your head, so you were already quite excited, and it did not take much preparation on his part before you were begging him to fill you up. The positioning of things was, well, it wasn't what you had ever been taught to do during sex, but goodness if Shouta wasn't right about it making it easier to feel amazing. At first, he was cautious, confirming his strategy, ensuring he was using the best technique. On his fourth or fifth press, your eyes flew open in disbelief and your pussy clenched because he found what he was looking for, a heretofore hidden part of you that, when he grazed against it with his cock and fingers, sent shivers through your body and made you feel a heat you thought someone like you was never meant to feel.

You were trying to hold yourself at the right angle because the pillows were flattening and giving way thanks to Shouta's increasingly powerful thrusts. Your thighs were quaking and your legs kicked up a little bit. You felt as though you were losing control of your hips as they darted about, almost shying away from the pressure and the extraordinary sensation you felt every time the ridges of his cock dragged over that secret spot he had discovered. You jerked about like this for a few more seconds, no release on the horizon, when Shouta stopped himself. You swallowed hard. Was he upset with you? Sick of trying to figure your stupid body out?

He gently stroked your cheek and lightly kissed your lips. "You need to keep still," he whispered. "Let me keep on hitting that spot just right, and you're going to feel as good as you deserve to feel."

"Shouta," you said in a small voice. "I can feel it building and it's so much, and my body feels frozen in place trying to stay in the right position so I can't let go." Your brain was trying to take in how high and breathy your voice was, but your mouth continued on without it.

"I'm also--I'm maybe afraid of losing control of myself? I don't know--it's so overwhelming."

Shouta came over onto his side and pulled you into his chest, rubbing your neck and back. "It's OK, angel, you're doing so good and we're almost there. I think I've got our solution. Hold on."

He reappeared seconds later with both his regular capture weapon and the back-up. Your blush did not go unnoticed, but he merely smiled gently at you and hummed as though he was filing things away in some corner of his mind for another time.

Honestly, you thought to yourself as Shouta whipped the binding cloths around the room, he should have taken The Spider as a hero name.

The results of his handiwork were soon clear to you: he'd anchored a hammock-like thing to those giant bedposts of his. Your face felt as though it had ignited when you realized that no, it really wasn't a hammock. It was a sling. A sex sling.

Shouta was almost irritatingly blasé and matter-of-fact about this, acting as though it was the most normal thing. "Between this, the pillows underneath, and me holding onto you," he said, as he spread a soft blanket over the contraption, "I think you should feel safe and supported enough to finally uncork yourself."

You let yourself settle back into the sling, and its resistance and support did actually make you feel more secure. Drawing on some inexhaustible source of energy, Shouta devoted himself to warming you up again, this time focusing on kissing and sucking on your nipples while his fingers played at your entrance. You were dimly aware that the way his hair tickled against your breasts was extremely stimulating, more than you could ever remember. There was still a little bit of a stretch when he seated himself inside you again, but it wasn't long before he was once again thrusting at just the right place, his cock dragging over the same spot as before.

You swayed back and forth in Shouta's little scarf swing and that only added to the friction. The build-up inside you was actually starting to hurt. Tears came to your eyes. Your body just wouldn't release. You tried to squirm away because it was becoming overwhelming again, but the sling and Shouta's hands on your hips kept you more firmly in place this time.

"Just lean back and let go, baby," he murmured into one of your breasts between his kisses. "Let go and come for me."

And then your body started to move, seemingly on its own. You were dimly aware that your hips were now canting up to meet Shouta's thrusts. Once, twice, thrice, and--

Finally, finally, the dam that had kept you on the other side of ecstasy all your life, a dam that had been built up by some unholy combination of your family, your community--really the world at large--simply crumbled in the face of Shouta's skillful and persistent onslaught.

The start of your orgasm was a pulsing sonic boom of a feeling. You were making the most wanton noises, more gulps and gasps rather than screams. There was an occasional high-pitched cry. Your tears were still falling, and you wanted to cry out Shouta's name in thanksgiving, but you couldn't form actual words. You just held onto him, your fogged mind only barely aware and in awe of the way the muscles of his back moved under your hands. He was groaning in pleasure too, although it sounded so distant in your ears...

Then all went silver-grey, like the light outside his window that was fading into twilight.

**

When your mind finally cleared, you were startled by the realization that it was hard to move. You had read about people feeling boneless after sex and, wow, they actually weren't kidding. It was, in truth, a little scary. You were so vulnerable.

Or, at least you would have been if you weren't nestled against Shouta's chest, cheek resting on one of his shoulders. You loved his shoulders: they weren't cartoonish, just the right amount of broadness and muscle. You started giving them little butterfly kisses.

He gave a deep murmur of approval, and tilted your chin up so you could look at him.

"How do you feel, angel?"

You tried to reach up to put your arms around his neck, but it was just too much.

"Completely drained, but still somehow warm and fuzzy."

"Good," Shouta said, stroking your hair, gently rubbing your shoulders, and attending to you as though he would never tire of it. Eventually, he gently pressed you into his shoulder again and settled against his headboard.

"Go back to sleep, sweetheart. I will keep you safe."

[animedumpfanfics]

Grind My Gears 

- normal au!mechanic!kenpachi zaraki x reader | bleach  - summary: visiting your parents for the holidays is always trifling, but even more so when you (a) just broke up with your ex, (b) you car breaks down halfway there and you’re forced to confront the bad boy you had a thing with in high school, and © you realize that you still have feelings for said guy (and he is still. kinda hot. in a scary, rugged way.) - word count: 6.9k words (hehe 69) - tropes: begrudging friends to lovers? awkward fling as teens to rekindling romance as adults? - tw/cw: fem!reader, sex on a table, kenpachi’s foul mouth, several references to kenpachi’s monstrous cock, size kink, fingering, handjobs, dirty talk, underage smoking?? (20 is legal age to buy cigs in Japan), reader and kenpachi get frisky when they’re 18+ –author’s note: my late secret santa fic for @unohanadaydreams​! sorry this took so long, but i’m hoping the disgustingly long length makes up for it kind of sort of??? disgustingly long like kenpapi’s co– wow i’ll stop

—

“Goddamnit.”

While you’re no expert on cars, you’re certain that the smoke emanating from your car’s hood is not a good sign. Neither is the sputtering sound coming from the area you vaguely recognize as your engine. You’re still an hour away from your parents’ house, back in your old neighborhood, and you’re hoping–praying, even–that your car makes it. But just after taking its final shuddering breath, the car comes to a complete stop, lurching you forward slightly. You turn the key in the ignition once, then twice. 

Nothing.

You smack your hand against the wheel, cursing your luck. You were supposed to be there by noon time, but an unpleasant conversation with your very recent-ex delayed you. Now the sun is dipping past the rim of the sky, dusk approaching. With a heavy sigh, you end up calling a towing service. They offer to drive you to the nearest auto shop, and you agree. 

Zaraki Auto Repair. 

You’re not sure why the familiarity of the name doesn’t register in you sooner. But it’s not until you’re staring at his rugged, scarred face, with his ever-present scowl, that you realize why you should have remembered. 

Keep reading

[animedumpfanfics]

c: m. fushiguro x reader

wc: 10.8k

tags: canonverse, sorcerer!megumi, sex pollen, intense religious imagery/allusions, depiction of a false Eden, temptation & fall, heavy reference to Paradise Lost

the reader: she/her, jujutsu sorcerer, assigned partner to megumi fushiguro, sarcastic dickhead

cw: dubious consent (as a result of sex pollen), aged-up characters, unprotected vaginal sex/cunnilingus, bloodplay, light hair pulling, canon-typical violence, descriptions of murder

notes: it's time for another re-upload from the old blog! this was originally uploaded as part of the heavenly bodies collab, hosted by @ / chiwhorei here on tumblr many moons ago.

this is probably my favourite fic from the old blog, so I probably should have saved it for last, or something but... it's here now.

[m. list]

“For contemplation he and valor formed, 

for softness she and sweet attractive grace:

He for God only, she for God in him.” 

You are pliant and ready for him, splashed over the lush grass like a ray of heaven’s light. Megumi has never been so consumed. And yet, the way fat leaves of clover stick with the dew to your arching back would turn even the most righteous man to sin.

He draws himself from you, pressing the pads of his fingers into the meat of your velvet thighs. You are silk and thick, sweet, syrupy honey, and to be graced by the purity of your vulnerable form, he thinks, is nearer to Paradise than he will ever tread.

As he bends over your trembling form, blood drips warm and iron from the point of his chin. It drizzles lazily over your lower lip, and he watches in wonder as your tongue slips fluidly across your flesh, tasting him like holy wine. More blood pools eagerly over his injured tongue, and he ducks abruptly against you, sealing his mouth over yours. You keen into him, and he lets the iron flavour pour over your palate.

Megumi parts your thighs and drives himself into you, again and again, picking up a brutal, performatively forceful pace that has you crying into the lifeblood he feeds you. He lets go of the voice that curls tightly in the back of his throat. Together, your pleasure shoots skyward as he climbs toward his immortal peak.

He is lost in you. Lost in the agony of wanting this for so long, of punishing himself for something that could have been taken so easily. The filthy desires he repressed, lying next to you in dingy motel rooms in every backwater town in the country. He would have given his life to have you look at him like this, with God in your eyes.

five hours earlier

“Shit. Fuck. I think that was poison ivy.”

“It wasn’t. You’re fine. Keep going.” The exasperation bleeds into every syllable as Megumi barely slows his pace to let you catch up. You lost the trail almost two miles ago, and with the sun sinking into the mountain peak, it’s getting harder to avoid tripping over the obstacles that the groomed trail is so kindly clear of.

“How would you even know? Have you ever even seen poison ivy? You know, I was in-“

“If you say Girl Scouts one more time-“

“No, but I’m just saying, when I was in Girl Scouts, they taught us this rhyme, so we could stay away from it. It was, like… leaves of green, leave it… leaves of-“ You bring a hand to your temple, conveniently swatting a too-friendly mosquito before trying to rub the rhyme back into your brain.

Megumi sighs deeper, if possible, and pulls to a dead stop in front of you.

“Leaves of three, leave it be.”

You purse your lips tightly, glancing back at the jagged, four-leaved greenish patch of vegetation you’d stumbled through.

“I don’t think that was it.”

“Yes, it- “ Megumi scrubs his hands over his face. He gives a sharp little whistle, and the Demon Dog who was traipsing through the undergrowth in front of him lifts its head and lopes eagerly back to his side. It drops its haunches to the soil, thumping its heavy tail.

“Please tell me you’ve found something,” he mumbles, dropping to one knee and scratching gently behind the dog’s ear. It stands immediately, lifting its nose to the before dropping it to the dirt and trotting away again. It’s definitely tracing something, though you're still not convinced it hasn't simply caught the scent of a fat little cursed rabbit.

You’ve been trekking through the woods all day, hiking into the deepest parts of one of the country’s largest national parks. There aren’t many missions that involve hiking so far out of civilization. Given the tendency of curses to gather in areas of high-density population, incidents this far into the wilderness are fairly uncommon.

Unfortunately for both of you, they’re not impossible. Gojo seemed a little too pleased, handing you both your assignment a couple of days ago.

“Well,” you puff, leaning against the tough bark of a nearby oak. “Since we’re not getting anywhere fast, maybe we’d better…”

“Here,” Megumi grunts, handing you his phone, with the screen lit up on a couple of PDFs. “I saved all the important details regarding the case before we left. And for God’s sake.” He shoves a metal canteen at your chest.

“Drink something, before you pass out.”

You curse at him under your breath, snagging the canteen. The water inside tastes like stainless steel, but it’s better than sweating all your fluids into your uniform.

You sip idly at your lukewarm refreshment while you scroll through the documents on Megumi’s phone, refreshing yourself with the case you’d been well-briefed on during the long drive to the trailhead.

The deaths began about a month ago, continuing in staggering numbers as the summer wore on. At first, the park had nothing to do with the official investigation, since nearly all of the casualties were first reported from the homes of the victims. Before long, however, the common thread drawn from the weave of each case was a recent visit to this park.

That, and the distinct, wing-like pattern that bled from the backs of every victim, spreading across the floor where each body was discovered.

One of the photos from the briefing was attached, detailing a dimly lit apartment and a stark chalk outline drawn on the wood flooring. Much like the briefing stated, dark stains stretched out from either side of the outline’s shoulders, smeared from where they would have lain, but flaring into the distinct shape of feathered wings beyond the outline, clear as day.

Many of the affected hikers were backpackers, who often shrugged the trail in search of better places to camp. It seemed that the longer they spent in the mountains, the sooner the curse came back for them.

“Thanks,” you rasp, powering down the phone and handing it back to Megumi as he uncrosses his arms.

“Ready to keep going?” He lowers his chin to meet your gaze with a moment of sincerity, his eyes strikingly pale in the desaturated colours of approaching dusk.

“As I’ll ever be,” you quip back, stretching your hand out with the now-empty canteen. Megumi takes it from you at first, but furrows his brow and turns it over. A few measly drops slide from its chrome mouth, dripping onto the leaves of a fern at your feet and rolling lazily towards its stem.

“Oh, no,” he grunts. “You finished it, you get to carry it now.”

“What? That wasn’t in the briefing,” you squawk, but he pushes it into your hands anyway and turns around, hooking his thumbs aggressively into the strap of his backpack. He calls for his shikigami, and the dog appears seemingly from nowhere.

“The dog’s picked up the curse’s scent,” Megumi calls over his shoulder. “We’re getting close. Be ready.”

You sling your pack over one shoulder to hook the canteen to its nylon straps, but Megumi’s already traipsing through the trees again, following the waving banner of his dog’s black tail.

As dusk fades into silvery night, the lush greens of the forest bleed into dull foliage and blackened wood. The trees seem to grow thicker the higher you climb. You're not high enough for the air to grow thin, so the ozone seems to condense alongside the brush, settling in warm layers of dew on every inch of your exposed skin.

The shadows grow so dense that the colours blur into each other completely, including Megumi, his black hair, his black uniform, and his black dog. The only proof you have that he’s still in front of you at all is the bobbing white strip of exposed skin at the back of his neck, a pale flash of dewy, vulnerable flesh.

You clap a hand self-consciously over the back of your own neck, tugging the cowl of your jacket a little more tightly around your ears.

There’s a change in the air, when you duck under the low-hanging bough of an ancient maple, branches thick and heavy with fertile keys. The oxygen seems to hang differently here. There’s no other particular way to describe it, but you’d know the feeling anywhere.

Megumi’s right. The curse is nearby.  

As you duck into the clearing, you pass a huge crabapple tree, with branches extending into the forest beyond like an umbrella. Its boughs are laden with velvety blossoms and simultaneously weighed down by plump, ripe fruit.

You crane your neck to keep staring at it as you walk by, feeling the cold, slow creep of mystery as it seeps into your veins.

The trees give way suddenly to a lush carpet of long grass and tall, fragrant wildflowers. Narrow stalks of evening lychnis and spring lupines sprout among thick patches of autumn-yellowed goldenrod and late summer lily-of-the-valley.

“Fushiguro,” you shout across the field, projecting to be heard over the syrupy, perfumed breeze.

Megumi’s already a few steps ahead of you, pausing to glance over one shoulder at you. His eyes, previously dark and unreadable in the shadowy woods, are suddenly vibrant and matching the moonlit grass that brushes about the knees of his pressed trousers.

Your chest gives a weary little shudder. You’re growing too tired to pretend like he isn’t beautiful, windswept and backdropped by nature’s gold.

“The dog,” he calls, lifting an arm to urge you in his direction. “It found something. Come on.”

The shikigami has already discovered its prize by the time you reach him, and Megumi’s standing a little ways away with his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

"What is it?" You step carelessly between the boy and his dog, but Megumi reaches for you with a harsh "lookout," grabbing you harshly by the upper arms and pulling you backward. His grip is strong enough to hurt, but you collide gently with his chest, feeling the airy ghost of his jaw as he dips his chin to avoid hitting you.

"You should start looking down more often," he grumbles. His voice rolls into your ear careful and measured, like a confession. When he lets you go, he runs his fingers up and down your arms for a heartbeat before stepping back.

“Sorry,” he adds. It’s not until he’s taken his distance and your brain’s started working again that you hear it- the slow, gentle gurgle of the mountain creek that crosses your path. It wouldn't have been a disaster if you'd stepped any further, but Megumi's saved you a pair of wet socks.

The shikigami is still parked contently a few feet from your left side, bowing its dark head to lap carefully at the clear running water.

“This is the place,” Megumi confirms, nodding toward the dog in question. He doesn’t need to explain it to you. Shikigami don’t get thirsty.

“We should probably leave our supplies here,” you suggest, unshouldering the backpack full of carefully packed clean water and extra layers. There’s a part of you that wants to rest here, knowing that your muscles are running on little more than adrenaline at this point.

But you trekked up here as soon as you could for a reason. The longer it takes for you to exorcise this curse, the more victims it will be able to claim.

Megumi lays his pack in the grass, straightening up slowly and adjusting the hem of his jacket. He recalls his shikigami, who disappears into a wisp of black mist. His eyelashes lift fluidly, letting his eyes glint when he fixes you with a determined stare. Your pulse stalls as he offers you a hand.

“Ready?”

Despite your fear, exhaustion and trepidation, you’re smiling.

“Might as well be.”

His fingers are cold, wrapping around yours. The night bleaches most of the colour from your vision, but you can already imagine the way his fingertips would be flushed, the same peachy shade of strawberry-pink that he gets about the nose and cheeks in the coldest part of the year. You remember vividly the scorching maroon of his ears on a long winter mission once, when he’d taken your frozen hands between his own to rub the life back into them.

Megumi’s already tugging you forward, bringing you from your reverie and giving your shoulder a little bump.

“Focus,” he chides. “You can’t afford to be distracted in there.”

“I know.” You shake your head, filling your lungs with fragrant night air one more time.

The creek is narrow enough to be taken in a single step, but you both steel yourselves before you cross.

Crossing the river will summon the curse if it's as near as you suspect.

There’s a definite shift in the atmosphere as you touch down on the other side, touching down and dropping hands. You take a few steps into the meadow on the other side of the creek, peering into the darkness for any sign of the cursed spirit.

Nothing happens.

“Maybe that wasn’t it,” you quip. But as you turn around to face Megumi again, it’s already too late.

The creature towers over him, easily the size and form of a first-grade. You reach for him, but it's not enough and the scream dies in your throat as the curse delivers a devastating blow to the back of Megumi's head, sending him sprawling into the grass before he can even react.

You’re lifting your hands, activating your cursed technique. Megumi’s already moving again, which floods your brain with just enough relief to give you room to think. When he flips onto his hindquarters he slaps his hands together, shaping them wildly. Blood pours over his bottom lip when he moves to speak.

He’s got a near-permanent scar across the breadth of his tongue, given how many times he’s bitten it.

But the curse moves faster. Its jagged mouth spreads in a wicked grin, darting around your attacks to re-appear behind you.

“Jujutsu sorcerers,” it delights, in a screech that rings through the hollow of your brainstem. “Children of God. I’ve been waiting for you.”

Intelligent speech. Your eyes find Megumi’s in an instant.

It’s a special grade.

You don’t have time to adjust to that new conclusion, because in the next instant, the curse has disappeared again. Instead of darting away like before, however, the curse melts into the ground, pale mist exploding through the grass and rolling toward you.

“It’s lowering a veil,” Megumi roars. “Get to the creek!”

He’s scrambling to his feet, but you take off. The adrenaline that buzzed lowly earlier thumps in your ears like a drug now, pushing you faster and faster. The edge of the creek draws closer, but by the time you jump, it’s already at your heels. It seems to accelerate as it reaches the water’s edge, engulfing you all at once and erecting a border that stops you midair, throwing you violently back into the grass.

You’re too late.

The veil crashes down around you like an iron wall, bleeding into the trees and curving into the sky. The meadow around you doesn’t disappear, like you’d expect in the domain of a cursed spirit. But it’s morphing beneath you, shifting and growing as the sky above lightens from pitch black into a the peachy-lavender fade of perpetual dusk, long, golden-hour shadows lit up by the last rays of a sun that set hours ago.

The trees that surround the clearing shoot upward, growing thousands of years of height in an instant. The branches, some still dotted with late-spring buds, leaf out all at once, with trees that were once bare suddenly weighed down by heavy fruits. Fruits that do not belong in this part of the world, nor on this sort of tree.

As the last of the changes are solidified, and you’re left to take stock of your new surroundings, the curse does not re-appear.

“Are you alright?”

Megumi’s already pushing himself up onto one elbow, using the back of one hand to wipe streaks of blood from his chin. Every time he moves his lips, fresh blood pools at their corners. It’s easy to see how quickly his mouth fills with blood even from where you lay.

You try to call back to him, but the air won’t come. Gesturing vaguely across to him, you stay flat on your back, focusing your energy and taking tiny sips of air until the wind comes back to you.

Then, slowly, you sit up. The light from the horizon is unfamiliar but strangely, fantastically beautiful, and though you’d been thrown harshly back from the creek, your landing was soft.

“Fine,” you call. The wind catches your jacket as you straighten up, fluttering the crepey wool against your skin. You didn’t realize just how much you’ve been sweating on the way up the mountain, but cursed or not, the fresh breeze feels nice.

“Your mouth,” you call back to him. Your voice comes a little softer than you intend, but you chalk it up to the shortness in your chest and the strange, reeling sensation that’s racing through your head. You run your fingers down the side of your face, rubbing gently at your temple to try and dissolve it.

“I’ll be fine,” comes his reply.

“Know that from experience, do you?” You call back, grinning as you remember the countless other times he’s limped off a job with his mouth full of blood.

You can still make jokes. And he can still roll his eyes. Things can’t be that bad if he can still roll his eyes.

“The curse’ll be back any second,” he growls. “You should be ready.” But you’re already laughing again. The laughter flows unbridled and unconsciously from your belly, and when you look at him again he’s all blurred around the edges.

“You’re hot when you’re mad,” you slur. The words drip from your tongue before you can catch them, escaping before you can scoop them into your hands, slapping a palm over your face. But you can’t even bring yourself to be embarrassed.

“I m-mean, I’m hot, I… don’t feel right,” you confess. Megumi squints.

“What?”

“I-“

You’ve lost the energy to shout across the field at him, so you roll slowly onto all fours and crawl across the grass toward him. You regret that decision as soon as you execute it, suddenly hyperaware of the way your chest dips into the grass, the way your thighs brush past one another.

Megumi’s still propped up on his elbows, staring openly with an illegible expression.

“I feel drunk,” you spill, giggling all over again at the mere revelation of it. Megumi drags his eyes away from you and rubs two fingers over his forehead, heavy-lashed eyes falling shut.

“Thought I hit my head or something,” he rumbles. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

“Take some deep breaths,” you gasp, laying back in the grass. “I hear that helps.”

Your eyes are closed, but you can feel the light of the veil on your cheeks as you take deep, greedy gulps of air. It was fragrant on the normal side of the creek, but in here it’s thick and heady and sweet as honey. You want more, reaching up to unbutton your jacket, letting its velvety touch curl against your chest, your neck.

“Megumi, ‘sso hot…” Your voice is coming in a slow, rolling groan now, and when you pull the flaps of your jacket apart there are goosebumps rising to the surface on your newly exposed flesh.

Somewhere buried in the back of your head, you want to think about the curse, the attack, the victims, but you can’t bring the thoughts to the front, or bring yourself to do anything about them.

When Megumi doesn’t respond quick enough, or scowl and blush at the casual way you’re calling him by his first name, your mind pushes you to check in with him. But when you sit up and open your eyes, you’re hit by such a staggering wave of thick, sweet fragrance that it knocks you over again, and you topple headfirst into Megumi’s chest.

He’s on fire, bathed in sweat and hot to the touch. He grunts thickly on impact, bringing his hands to the curve of your hips. His fingers leave burning prints on your body, and all you can think about is the sharp contrast from the chill of his grip before you crossed the creek.

He pants your name in earnest, sitting up and propping you in the curve of his shoulder, too.

“You’re hot,” you enthuse, tracing your fingers down the center of his chest. “Really hot. Too hot. Lemme…”

You reach for his buttons, but your fingers barely brush the top one before he flinches away from you.

“Don’t touch me.” His voice is low and firm, but there’s a thread of something like desperation glimmering in his tone. He scrambles back away from you, chest heaving even as he lays back in the flowers.

He looks up at you, frightened and vulnerable.

“I want it,” you voice. You can’t bear to keep the words down any longer. They are burning your throat like too much vodka, water swallowed the wrong way.

“Don’t say that,” he hisses. “Please don’t say that.” Megumi sinks his teeth into his lower lip, tilting his hips away from you. He’s clutching at the grass, every muscle in his body drawn tight as a bow.

“I can’t- I-I can’t, I’m not f-fucking around. Megumi.” Your voice breaks as you try to flip onto your knees. Your skin is tender, too tender all over. Chafing against your soft underwear, rubbed raw in the delicate cotton of your undershirt. You’re feverish, but it runs deeper than that. Like your nerves themselves are overcooked, seared in the boiling blood that races through your veins.

“Stop,” he snarls. He’s drooling blood at this point, sputtering thin streams of it through his clenched teeth. When you say his name he throws his head back and you can see just how flushed he is, maroon creeping out from under the collar of his coat.

“’m not gonna,” he pants. “Not this way.”

Not this way. Those words pierce the fog in your mind, lingering in the long-held desire for him that you’ve been swallowing so well. He is Megumi, pretty Megumi, perfect, nurturing, thorough, careful Megumi.

You’ve wanted to shatter that veneer from the moment you met him.

“Please,” you beg, squirming clumsily out of your jacket and pushing it away. The dew that hits your back and shoulders when you lie down again is cooling salve to your burning skin, but it practically turns to steam upon contact, fresh, pounding currents of heat into your limbs.

You sit up, head spinning.

“I’m letting you. I’m asking you to.” When he does not move toward you, you bow your head and your vision starts to go fuzzy.

“I feel like I’m gonna die if we don’t.”

Megumi’s gone frighteningly still, head tilted so you can’t see his eyes. There’s a drop of sweat emerging from his hairline, and you watch its path intently as it rolls down his temple and drips off the point of his jaw.

“Come here,” he rasps, barely audible. But it’s all the approval you need.

By the time you reach him, he’s already unbuttoning his jacket, but you quite literally can’t keep your hands off him. You reach in to help him, fumbling with the top two buttons as he brings his fingers to the tall neck of it. You manage to get one and a half undone before he gets fed up and starts to pull the whole thing over his head, struggling out of the tailored coat and dashing it to the grass at his feet, rolling you away from him in the process.

“Still hot,” he groans, getting shakily to his feet with his eyes trained permanently on you. Underneath his jacket he’s wearing a tight white singlet top, clinging to the broadness of his matured chest and translucent with sweat. As he drops his chin his fresh mouthful of blood spills over again, dripping down his face and drizzling a messy splatter onto his shirt.

“Fuck,” you sigh from the grass.

He’s never bled raw man like this before, rugged and powerful and needing. While he’s always been bigger than you, he never carried it this way. He’s never hulked over you like he does now, never swelled with the promise of carnal desire.

You crawl forward, grabbing Megumi’s thighs and using the strength in them to pull yourself upright. He doesn’t hesitate to reach down and grab you under the arms, helping you to your shaky feet and pushing his hands into the folds of your jacket to wrench it free from your shoulders. You’re wearing a cotton tank top much like his underneath your jacket, just enough to keep the sweat away from your dry-clean-only jacket without being too bulky.

As you climb up his chest, you come face-to-face in the middle. His eyes are striking in the golden light of the veil, lit like morning dew on silvery leaves of sage. The pale petal-softness of his skin is streaked darkly by his blood, tinted scarlet from this angle.

It still pours thickly from the corners of his lips, heavy and sweet like holy wine.

You want to taste.

He seems to come to the same conclusion as you, leaning in to find your mouth as your tongues collide at the apex of your touch. His blood pours hot and metallic over your palate, fingers scorching down your bare arms as he gathers your heated form against his chest. Any reservations you had a moment ago, laying in the grass, are gone.

He is all you feel. He is all you see or care about or want. The compulsion is overwhelming.

It feels sweet to sin in Paradise.

He kisses you open and urgent and needing, like he would take you into his ribcage and swallow you whole. Like you were born from him, and he’s finally been given the chance to reclaim you for his own.

He combs one hand down the back of your head, slipping the fingers of the other into the hem of your tank top and curling them where the sweat gathers at the small of your back. You, overwhelmed by his sudden, pressing need, push your fingers against the edges of his clothes, feeling the wetted-down bristle of his chest hair, the sparse fluttering of his heart behind the firm press of his sternum.

“Need you,” he gasps into your mouth, pulling back for a breath and a half. Just long enough for you to strip your tank top away, hook your thumbs into the waist of your fluttery trousers and step out of them, too.

Megumi is flushed from hairline to collarbone, heavy-eyed with fresh blood smearing his lips and chin. He is wild and terrifying and beautiful like this, swiping the fluid from his mouth with the clear shape of his aching desire standing out against one thigh.

You would fall to your knees, lay yourself at his feet and pray, if he wasn’t grabbing you in the next instant.

He pulls you so harshly against him you lift onto your toes, letting him grab handfuls of your ass, knead the fat of your hips and sink his teeth into the curve of your throat. The toe-curling sensation of his bloodstained breath sends waves of aching pleasure through your belly, enough to pull strangled cries from the throat he marks shamelessly with his injured tongue.

He drops to his knees, keeping you cradled tightly against him as his thighs push forward and his hips rest back. All at once you’re tugged astride his lap, and then the hot press of his dick is unmistakable. You wrap your arms around him, clutching at his back and raking your fingers into his hair as he continues to mouth at your tender neck.

“Gumiiiii,” you whine, drawing out the last syllable of his name on a lingering breath. You grind desperately into his lap, rubbing yourself so shamelessly on the swollen ridge of his cock that he curses quietly into your skin.

“Need to cum,” you plead. The pain is growing quickly unbearable, flaring into a need so urgent it cannot be ignored. The tender swell of your aching clit is easily pinned against the firm surface of Megumi’s lap, and your fingers tighten in his hair as you find the rhythm of your pleasure and chase it.

“Let me-“ he grunts, but you’re holding him fast, and the wave of your first paranormal climax washes over you, sudden and untimely but never unwelcome. Your cries spiral higher in an instant until you’re sobbing into his ear with devoted pleasure as your hips stutter and sway over his twitching cock.

When it’s over, the ache does not subside. It spikes aggressively in your belly, harder than ever, and before you can even finish properly you’re squirming against him again.

“Come here,” Megumi insists. He braces an arm across your chest, pinning you quickly to the grass in front of him. The dew-slicked strands hug your shoulders and cradle your neck, and you let your head lull to the side as he hooks one hand into the waistband of your underwear and uses the other to shove your tank top up over your tits. He’s already drooling blood over your skin as he dips his head and mouths at your plush belly, working your ruined underwear down to your knees and letting you squirm the rest of the way out of it.

Fed up with the sticky fabric of your clingy top, you lift your back and shoulders far enough out of the grass to tug it off, too. And suddenly you are bare for him, naked and vulnerable. And though he leaves dizzy prints of runny blood down the length of your torso, the ache is too overwhelming to do anything but let him unabashedly in.

Megumi pushes your thighs apart, lowering his head to drink you in.

He will devour you, flesh and blood, and you’re going to let him.

His tongue is warm and slick as he laves it down the length of your slit, digging his thumbs into your folds. He pulls back, lower lip already rusty and stained from the mess of his tongue. There’s a part of you insisting that he must be in pain, that he cannot be enjoying himself like this.

But then he spreads you between his thumbs, presses his chin to the base of your slit, and slips his tongue as far forward as it will reach without so much as flinching.

You groan in deep unison, a perfect chorus. He prods you open with the slick iron strength of his tongue, licking long and slow until you’re shivering, nipples pebbled, goosebumps racing up the column of your spine. Your thighs twitch inward around his head and he lets you keep them there, trembling against either side of his hairline.

He sends quiet, open-mouthed puffs of air over your aching folds as he works his tongue inside you, pulling away suddenly with pinkish drool spilling from his mouth. He looks up to meet your gaze as he dives in one more time, this time sealing his mouth around the tender ridge of your clit and starting to gently suck.

“Ah, a-ah, M-meg-gumi, please,” you stutter, driven wild and shaky and stammering by the overwhelming pleasure that clouds your brain. Every nerve in your body seems to sing with sensitive promise, but when he flicks his tongue against the hood of your clit, the pleasure flashes like lightning and you’re hopeless to do anything but ride out the waves of thunder.

He grunts into you, and if you focus for an instant, you can feel a gentle lilt in the press of him against your thighs and pelvis. He’s squirming between your legs, rutting slowly into the grass as he laps fresh spots of blood onto your skin. You want to stop him, touch him, feel the ecstasy bubbling beneath his drawn muscles. But your pleasure’s spiralling rapidly downward and you’re not holding on tightly enough to resist anymore.

“C-oming,” you warn, aching shocks of hypersensitive pleasure tightening in your belly. “Fuck-ah, ‘gumi, please-“

Your grip slips. The rope is pulled clean through your fingers. You fall again, spine arching clean off the bedded-down grass to ride Megumi’s face as he grabs your hips and tries to keep you still. He groans low and stiff into your fluttering pussy, twitching and huffing and digging blunt fingertips into your flesh.

When your hips settle once more into the grass he lifts his head, smoothing thick palms down each of your thighs and catching his breath.

He is a vision, lips and chin smeared in rusty-pinkish drool and blood and spend, thin rivulets of it catching themselves in the neckline of his shirt and pooling against the fabric. His cheeks and nose are flushed deeply, his eyes heady, tongue slack.

You have never wanted anything more.

“Fuck me,” you spit, but Megumi’s already miles ahead of you. He rears back, shoving his dark trousers and undershorts down over his hips. The stretchy fabric comes away sticky and dripping with whitish fluid. But his cock is relentless, pink and curving eagerly toward his belly, bobbing obscenely as he rids himself of his bottoms.

He collapses forward between your thighs, frantically shoving his soiled shirt up over his waist with one hand while lining himself up with the other. He nudges the swollen head of him up between your aching folds, and while you help him push the flimsy, ribbed-cotton undershirt over his head, he gives a moment of pause and fixes his eyes on yours.

-

“You know Fushiguro-san, right?” Gojo’s covered eyes seemed to twinkle anyway as he took a step from your side, gesturing toward the sorcerer whose hands were shoved deep into his pockets.

“Actually, I don’t think we’ve met,” you replied, glancing between Gojo, who’d accompanied you on you’re the train all the way to Tokyo, and the stranger, who couldn’t even seem to accompany you with a proper glance.

“Megumi, this is the new sorcerer from out of town. You remember when I told you about her, right? She’s new, so play nice.”

“I heard we’re going to be partners,” you tried, tilting your head a little in an attempt at meeting his gaze. “I’m looking forward to working with you, Fushiguro-san.”

Megumi lifted his eyes, and for a moment you caught the dazzling spectacle of their shockingly pale shade. His dark hair swept down his forehead in a stark contrast, revealing strong brows and long, thick eyelashes, black as night.

But he wasn’t looking at you. He was scowling straight up at the spot where Gojo’s eyes could be, if you could actually see them.

“I already told you,” he grunted. “I don’t need a new partner.” Gojo’s smile drooped for the barest instant. There was a heartbeat of quiet between them. And then he spoke.

“No,” he agreed. “But she does. Besides, I already assigned you a new mission together. And you’re leaving tonight. So take care of her, okay?”

He excused himself before Megumi could protest, disappearing into the courtyard and leaving you alone, tucked under the shady awning of the staff dorms.

Finally, your new partner looked at you. If you’d known just how accustomed to that scowl you were about to grow, you probably wouldn’t have stared so dumbly.

“Alright,” he sighed, shoulders dropping. “We’d better get ready to leave.” He turned to head back to his dorm, then paused.

“Oh yeah.” When he looked back at you again, his expression was gentler, if only by a hair.

“What’s your name?”

-

Megumi bows his head against yours, eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks as he whispers your name soft as a prayer. You comb sweat-slicked stands slowly back from his sticky temples. There’s blood on his breath, but his touch is sweet like ambrosia.

Many missions have passed since that first disgruntled introduction. And with every night spent away from home, every near-death trap you fought yourselves out of, your devotion to him only multiplied.

He draws one hand up the back of your thigh, urging your thighs apart. When you’re spread for him he eases forward, and your chests still as he stretches you quietly open, slippery and molten but gentle and steady.

The fill of him is unparalleled, simultaneously melted-wax hot and soothingly cooling. It’s now abundantly clear that this is what your frayed nerves have been begging for, the remedy for your desperate fever.

Megumi is staring down at you with Heaven in his eyes, bottomed out with his messy hips pressed to yours. He digs his fingers into the flesh of your thigh, hooking it over his curled leg as he bends forward to revel in all of you. Fresh blood drips from his mouth, landing in fat drops on your lower lip.

Caught up in the power and majesty of him, you lick it up eagerly. That seems to spur him on suddenly, since he dips his head and tastes you swiftly, pouring his tongue into your mouth as his hips begin to roll forward. Overwhelmed by his warm closeness, you press your chest upward, arching your spine to seal yourself to him from mouth to pelvis. When he takes his distance again, he pushes your thighs into the grass, plants his knees, and you lose yourself to him.

Megumi takes you desperate and merciless, gripping you tightly enough to bruise as he screws his eyes shut and fucks you with devastating power. His legs slap your rippling flesh at the apex of every thrust, his cock spearing fearlessly into the runny mess of you. He draws himself back with a breath of hesitation every time, slowing just enough to drag his blunt tip against the tenderest heights of your insides. He seems to bring forth fresh handfuls of wet arousal every time, spilling into the bloodied mess he left behind and sending sparkling pleasure like glittering firecrackers across your vision.

“Good,” he gasps. “Perfect. So p-perfect. God-“

“Gonna cum again.” you hiccup, clinging to him. “Can’t take it- please.”

“N-no, I-“ Megumi’s hips stutter alongside his voice, but it’s too late for both of you. He flattens a palm against your sternum, pinning your shoulders to the grass as your mind goes inside-out and your clenching depths flutter and gush. He cries out, hard and guttural, driving himself balls-deep and releasing tight spurts of slippery cum over your twitching walls. You’re squealing, overstimulated and fitful, but his cock is still hard and heated and you’re far from spent.

He doesn’t even stop fucking you, letting the oozing cocktail of your shared climax coat his length in a few deep, slow thrusts. You’ve barely got time to gather your bearings before he slips an arm underneath you and flips you onto your belly. His cock slides out of you in the process, bobbing wetly against the back of your thigh, but he hitches his hands in the grooves between your hip and thigh and pulls you up onto your knees, reaching between you and forcing himself home all over again.

“Fuck,” you gasp, spreading your thighs and arching your back.

“That’s it,” he stumbles, gliding a hand up the length of your spine, securing his fingers at the back of your neck.

From behind, he bottoms out so far you can feel the length of him pressing up into your belly, keeping you stuffed full of the load he gave you moments ago. You keen back against him, keeping your arms and chest and face pushed firmly into the ground while he starts into a ruthless rhythm all over again. As he bends over you, putting his strength into the hand on your neck, he pushes you more firmly into the cool ground and lets the rest of your body absorb the impact of his powerful thrusts.

You’re beyond words at this point, beyond thinking. All you can do is close your eyes and take him, focus on the way your tits are shoved rhythmically against the plush dirt, the sharp ecstasy he forces through your body when his cock finds the tenderest parts of you.

“M-mmmmm,” you groan dumbly, brain making some attempt at forming the syllables of his name. All you can make are unintelligible sounds, though, biting your lower lip to manage the overwhelming pleasure and digging your nails into the lush meadow.

“G-got more for you,” Megumi warns behind you. “Gonna… g-gonna give it all to you. I can’t h-hold back anymore, I’m s-sah-“

The apology dies in his throat when he reaches another harsh peak. This time you can feel his balls twitching between you when he drives himself forward and stays there, emptying into you with another fierce groan. The warm flood of him triggers a climax in you, and he barely gets three full thrusts in before you’re wracked with shivers and clamping down hard around him, humping madly back against his hips with tears of pleasure streaming from your eyes.

All semblance of control vaporizes between you in that instant. By the time you’re coming down from your high, Megumi’s losing it all over again. Before you can even gather yourself he’s collapsing over your spine, crying out in maddening ecstasy and filling you once more.

“Fuck!” he shouts. “I can’t stop, I c-can’t… y-you’re so much, I’m gonna- uhnnnnngh-“ He’s cut off by your tense peak, thoughts driven away when your sopping pussy clenches and spasms around him again.

“Just keep going,” you beg, hoarse and sobbing. Your heartbeat thumps loudly in both ears, painfully rushed and sending shakes into every muscle. The pleasure’s been driven too far. There are sparks behind your eyelids. No matter what you could’ve done, you catch yourself thinking, it wasn’t enough. You’re going to die here anyway, poisoned by the curse that so easily got the better of you.

But Megumi is beyond worrying. His stuttered little babbles ramp into frantic cries as his fingers close into the strands of hair at your nape, pulling your back into a sharp curve as he breeds you ravenously. His thighs strain with every powerful force of his hips, and he seems to reach a new climax with every other thrust.

Your own peaks have almost completely blended together at this point, your core and legs pulled frighteningly tight. If he lets go now, it feels as if you would simply fall apart at the joints, topple into pieces at the hands of the only man you’ve ever trusted.

He loops an arm under your waist and hauls you upright, throwing you back against him and chanting at you like a prayer, “so wet, so much, gonna give you everything, you’re so fucking hot I’m gonna die, gonna die, gonna d-d-d-“

His breath cuts off, and for a moment you think it’s really happened. There’s cum pouring down your thighs and leaking into the creases of your ass, blood and drool from his injured mouth streaking down your front in a crimson waterfall.

But then he draws a deep, slow, shaky breath, and you’re breathing again too, and he’s pulling back from your spent body and his cock is going soft and maybe, just maybe, the worst of it’s passed.

He holds you for a weak moment, wavering at your sweat-soaked back. You’re both filthy and soaked and stuck all over with blades of grass and the stray petals of wildflowers. Patched all over in blood and cum and drool. Baptized in your own fluids and wrung dry all over again.

“Megumi.” Your head is spinning, vision swimming. Megumi’s hands go slack at your hips. You turn just in time to watch him fall, slumping at the knees to collapse into the grass. As soon as you try to think too hard, the urge to sleep edges in. You’re exhausted, bathed all over in the warm, pleasant, easy weight of pleasure. You deserve the rest.

When the darkness comes, you let yourself fall.

          ------------------------------------------------------------

The sky’s gone threateningly low and dark and grey when Gojo Satoru finally shows up.

“Gojo-san,” Nanami calls from across the clearing, weaving carefully through the crowd of sorcerers and administrators and assorted supernatural investigators. There’s a sizeable perimeter set up around the veil, but Gojo cuts through the crowd with ease.

“Haha! No wonder you sounded so urgent on the phone,” Gojo laughs, pocketing the device in question and slipping his hands into his pants pockets. “This veil is huge. How long did you say they’d been trapped in there for?”

Nanami licks his lips, pinching at the bridge of his nose.

“It was three days, when I called,” he starts. “Now it’s been more like five. A hundred and fourteen hours and counting, actually.”

Gojo whistles.

“Let me see what I can do about it.”

He steps through the milling crowd. Some greet him with measured relief. Others roll their eyes. Either way, they get out of his way, granting him a clear path up to the shimmery barrier that forms the curse’s veil.

“So nobody’s been able to cross in or out since this came up?” he calls over his shoulder.

“Not a soul,” shouts Nanami. “I don’t know what you think you’re gonna…”

Gojo places his hand on the veil, gentle as a lover. He takes a slow breath. Then another. Then another.

“Hail, holy Light, offspring of Heav’n, first-born,” he whispers under his breath.

“What did you say?” Nanami catches up to him, brow furrowed. But Gojo’s already laughing, hooking a thumb into the edge of his blindfold and tearing it over his head.

“I see what’s going on,” he chuckles. He turns to find Nanami’s gaze, eyes swimming with bright promise.

“See you in a minute.” He winks. His fingertips melt into the veil. Then the rest of him goes, too, disappearing smoothly into its borders.

          ------------------------------------------------------------

When your consciousness swims back to the surface, the first thing you can feel is overwhelming thirst. Your mouth and throat are cracked and inflamed and horribly dry. But the rest of your body is still floating, and when you look down at Megumi, whose chest you’ve been pillowed against, you feel nothing but blissful adoration for his sleeping form.

The fresh babbling of the creek beyond him calls to you, though, so you rise slowly. You’re still bathed in evidence of everything you shared with Megumi, but you bask in it, the mark of your ecstasy.

You walk as if on air, drifting naked and unashamed across the open field toward the edge of the creek. You stoop, dipping your hands into the clear, fresh water and taking a deep, full sip. The flavour is sweet and soothing to your tired voice. As you’re reaching for another mouthful, you spot something moving in the grass.

“Oh!” The surprised yelp escapes your throat before you can stop yourself.

There’s a snake in the grass at your feet.

It’s unlike any snake you’ve ever seen before, a stark shade of silvery-white, almost iridescent at the parts that catch the light of the veil. It’s sliding smoothly past, seemingly paying you no mind.

And then it stops. It lifts its head and looks straight at you, with a pair of beady eyes in the most vibrant shades of blue you’ve ever seen. It holds you in its gaze for a long moment, then drops its chin and dashes away, slithering madly toward the edge of the woods.

Before you can question yourself, you’re following it.

“Wait,” you call quietly, stepping over Megumi’s sleeping form. You just catch the glint of it in the corner of your eye again, and whatever awareness of your surroundings you had before drops away quickly as you work to keep the serpent in your field of vision.

It leads you away from the meadow and into the trees, weaving around a lush grove of tall maples with their branches laden with full, ripe oranges. You duck under the prickly branch of a pine, bearing thick clusters of blueberries where the spiny cones should be.

Finally, you come to the place where the serpent has come to rest, winding itself around the low-hanging branch of the largest tree you’ve ever seen. Its trunk is easily as broad as a building, stretching just as tall.

It must be the largest tree in the grove. And it bears a fruitful combination of broad green leaves, rich white blossoms, and the roundest, reddest apples you’ve ever seen. You’re turning to look back toward the edge of the grove when the serpent speaks to you, in a voice you’ve almost certainly heard before.

“You look a little worse for wear.”

Its words seem to echo clear through the hollow of your brain, startling you into turning back toward it. When you straighten your neck, the serpent drops its head from the branch, levelling its eyes with you.

“You know me?” You ask, pressing a hand to your belly. You’re still warm and full and bloated, but the curiosity the serpent begs is quickly overriding any quiet need that’s building in the back of your mind.

“Sure I do,” the serpent responds. “Don’t you know me?”

You consider this for a moment. “I don’t think so.”

The serpent laughs, a strange, high, thin sound that unsettles and intrigues you all at once.

“No,” it replies. “No, you wouldn’t. Not here.”

“I think…” You trail off, suddenly thinking of Megumi again, surely waking all alone in the flowers already. “I have to-“

“Hold on,” the serpent prompts. “Just for a moment. Isn’t there something you came here for?”

“No,” you protest. “No. You lead me here. I only followed you.”

“Now,” the serpent scolds. It slides forward, dropping onto your shoulders in a cool, fluid weight. “I don’t think that’s very fair of you, is it? To pin all the blame on a harmless creature like me? It’s in my nature to lead, after all.”

Its tail coils under your arms and around your waist, flexible and strong all at once. Lazily, the serpent drapes itself across your shoulders, wrapping its upper body around your throat and resting the tiny flat of its head by your ear.

“You chose to follow. And look where I’ve lead you.”

With the coils of its body the serpent urges you forward, toward the drooping branches of the majestic tree. You step quietly into its canopy, burying your nose into one of the fragrant blossoms. But it’s the fruit that catches your eye, and you reach for it instinctively.

“Looks ripe, doesn’t it?” The serpent’s voice sounds so abruptly in your ear that you pull your fingers sharply back from it, feeling a sudden flush of shame.

“I can’t take it.”

“Why not?” The serpent’s tongue flickers, whisper-soft against the shell of your ear. “Nobody else is going to eat it. If you don’t take it, it’s just going to turn rotten and fall on the ground. Get crushed and die. Is that what you want?”

“I don’t think it’s mine,” you press. The feeling is indescribable. But suddenly your floating, buoyant bliss is gone, replaced by the first drags of concern and sorrow that you’ve felt since…

No. You can’t remember ever feeling this way.

“What if I told you,” the serpent continues, “that eating this fruit will turn you into who you used to be again?”

Just like that, the sneaking feeling that had been drifting about the edges of your mind closes in all at once. You haven’t always been here. You haven’t always had this. Megumi. Bliss.

“I was somebody else.” The words come vacant, formed near-mindlessly on the tip of your tongue.

“You weren’t just anybody else,” purrs the serpent. “Untold power. Neverending possibility. I bet you’d like to find out, wouldn’t you?”

None of this is real, your mind echoes. Not even the way he wants you.

“I don’t want to go back there,” you insist sharply, tears blurring in your vision. “I can’t.”

“You can,” the serpent presses. “You have to. You’re needed.”

“I’m not,” you cry, wiping fat tears from your cheeks. They spill over relentlessly, filling your chest with heavy sobs. “I’m not needed. It’s not real.”

“You don’t want him like this,” the serpent presses. Its voice drops, sounding suddenly genuine. “You’re right. It’s not real. He’s not real. Not like that.”

“Stop it!” The sobs are coming uncontrollably now, toppling you to your knees. “Stop talking, please.”

The serpent listens. It lets you cry, lets rivers of your tears cut through the blood that cakes your cheeks. You hiccup and sniffle, spilling gooey snot and salty tears into the fertile soil.

“Tell me,” you sniff after a long moment. “The person I used to be.”

“I can’t tell you more than you already know.”

“Please, serpent,” you beg. “Tell me one thing. Just one thing.”

“Alright,” it replies, “but only one.”

“Does he want me,” you breathe, curling your fingers in the dirt, “like he does here?”

The serpent laughs again. This time, the sound chills you harshly to the core.

“Yes,” it declares. “Very badly. It would take a fool to be blind to it.”

Relief spreads cool and alive into your chest.

“Okay.” You stand, one slow limb at a time. You dust the earth from your stained knees. You curl your fingers around the plump swell of the lowest-hanging fruit. “If you mean it, then I can… I’ll try.”

“Good girl.” The serpent smiles into your ear. “I don’t think you’re going to regret it.”

In a swift, deliberate motion, you twist the apple and pull it from its bough. It comes away easily, ripe and ready.

You press it to your lips, feeling the tough skin under your tongue. You can still taste the bleeding press of Megumi’s mouth on yours, if you think about it.

But you will not lose him to this taste. And so, with a resigning sigh, you bite.

The skin gives way to crisp, supple, sweet flesh that breaks easily into your mouth, bursting with ripe flavour across your palate. It’s exquisite, breathtaking, all-consuming, the taste that will bring you back to yourself.

Yet it is not the blissful return to reason that you feel when you hear your name from across the grove.

You turn around to find him standing there, still bare, still bloody, still looking at you as though you are the first woman he’s ever seen. The only one who will ever matter.

You’ve still got the apple in your teeth.

“What’s that?” He asks, sleepy and mussed. He’s rubbing the back of his neck, grass stuck to his thighs and shoulders and feet.

The serpent slips from your shoulders and disappears into the undergrowth.

Your stomach turns.

“Try it.”

You take a few steps toward him, holding the bitten fruit out in both hands. Megumi takes a step back.

“I don’t want it.”

His refusal lands hard across your shoulders, desperate panic building rapidly in your lungs.

“No, you have to,” you plead. “You have to eat it and come back with me.”

“No,” he barks. “I’m not. I won’t. You shouldn’t have eaten that.”

“But,” you stopped, breath suddenly shallow and hard to find. “It’s not real.”

“Come back to the river.”

“The river isn’t real,” you plead. “This isn’t real. You’re not real and I’m not real, but if you eat this we will be and we want each other there, he promised.”

Megumi stops backing away. His eyes are shifting. When he looks at you again, he seems to understand. He lets you come near, lets you press yourself close to him. You take his jaw in one hand and pull his mouth to yours, wondering if he will taste even a hint the sweet perfection waiting on your tongue.

“He promised,” he murmurs into your mouth, softer all of a sudden.

“He promised,” you confirm. “I promise.”

Megumi cups his hand against yours, bringing your fingers, and the apple, to his mouth. He kisses the tips of your fingers, then finds your eyes as he sinks his teeth into its flesh.

As soon as he does, the apple melts between your fingers. You recoil in horror, whipping around suddenly to face the tree it came from.

The tree’s not there anymore, either. Only the scrambling form of the special-grade curse.

“Fools,” it spits. “Mortal, lowly, insolent fools. You who gazed upon the gates of Paradise would so quickly give it up. All barriers to your eternal bliss, cheated away for-“

There’s a flash of violet light. And then the curse is little more than a collection of limbs with a gaping hole at its center.

It collapses into blackened sludge and dissipates in a swath of blue flame. Nearby, the serpent drops from the orange-laden maple.

“Well, I think that’s enough excitement for one day,” it calls. The sky opens, apricot-bathed light and perpetual rays giving way to blackened clouds.

The first drops of rain hit your forehead, cheeks, chin, shoulders. The fantastical trees around you return to their usual height. Their normal shapes and foliage is returned. And Gojo Satoru stands before you where the serpent once lay, applauding slowly.

There’s a smattering of shocked murmurs and hesitant applause from behind you. You and Megumi whirl around in unison to find the gaggle of gathered sorcerers, including Nanami Kento, averting his eyes.

The pressing shame of your naked state settles in as the pouring rain spills down your bare back and chest. You turn to Megumi instinctively, but quickly avert your eyes again when you remember that he’s naked, too.

“For Chrissake, cover up. This isn’t a nude beach,” Gojo calls from behind you, approaching with two folded blankets. They look terribly scratchy and worn, but you snatch one quickly from his palms, wrapping it around your shoulders.

The sky is dark with rain, but it can’t be later than midafternoon. As you clutch at the folds of your blanket, the number of gathered sorcerers, umbrellas and parked vehicles begins to dawn on you.

“H-how long-“ you stutter, Gojo, who’s fixing the blindfold back over his eyes, jerks his chin toward Nanami.

“A hundred and twenty-two hours,” he calls, watching another sorcerer tap that onto a tablet stuffed inside a plastic bag. “Just over five days.”

“That’s impossible.” You turn back to Gojo. Megumi’s already turned his back to both of you, blanket wrapped around his waist, like he’s impervious to the chill. He might as well be, given the scarlet flush that’s already creeping down the back of his neck.

“It passed like-“

“Hours, I know,” Gojo interrupts. “The veil was crafted to work that way. That wasn’t your average special-grade,” he explains. Megumi, too embarrassed for eye contact but too intrigued not to pay attention, tilts his head to bend an ear toward your conversation.

“It was feeding off of your cursed energy. Most special-grades would try to kill any sorcerers that crossed its path. This one set up that veil to keep you confined, feeding off your power so it could grow stronger. It’s a little frightening if you think too hard about it.”

His tone is idle and casual, punctuated with a chuckle, but you are thinking too hard about it.

“After you didn’t report back for a few days, needless to say, we started to miss you.”

“Why couldn’t anybody else pierce the veil?” Megumi speaks up for the first time since the veil dropped, turning around with his brow fixed and his cheeks scarlet. You can tell by the tremor in his voice that he’s fighting utter mortification to get the words out. “The curse had no prior knowledge of you. So how could it have formed the veil’s parameters around you?”

Some part of you feels the same way. Another part of you is still blithely hoping that Gojo will take pity on the situation and let you off without too much teasing.

A final, third part of you seethes with the knowledge that that’s never going to happen.

“It didn’t,” Gojo replied. “It formed the veil’s parameters around the world it had created. If you could fool the veil into thinking you were a part of that world, then you could pass through it easily.” He laughed. “Lucky for you, I know my bedtime stories.”

You look across at Megumi, swallowing hard. The shame you’ve been keeping at bay surges forth when you find his eyes. Even though you know it was a spell, and even though you know you were both under it, you can’t help but feel awkward and stupid, suddenly aware of everything you shared behind that veil.

He looks up at you from beneath the low press of his brow. And somewhere in his gaze, there’s a swirling hint of the way he’d looked at you back in the grove.

The first woman he’s ever seen.

“Come on,” Gojo quips, pulling you both from your reverie. He settles a hand on each of your backs, steering you toward the crowd. “Let’s get you into some real clothes.”  

          ------------------------------------------------------------

“Megumi!”

You call across the warming span of the courtyard, edged by the leaves that fall from the turning trees at its borders. You’ve just spotted Megumi’s retreating back as he heads for the staff dorms, so you jog to catch up, waving your phone above your head.

It’s been two weeks since Gojo found you, naked and bloodied at the top of the mountain. While you haven’t shared a bed again, or vowed to take up where the veil left off, things have certainly changed between you. You catch it in the wave of softness that falls over his expression when Megumi turns and spots you, the bare curve of a smile that finds his mouth.

“Hey,” he greets, and a rush of warmth crashes over your heart.

“Hey yourself,” you gasp, fading to a stop in front of him. “You couldn’t have met me halfway?”

Before he can finish rolling his eyes, you hold up your phone again.

“Nanami-san called. He wants us to join him in Osaka as soon as we can.”

“Okay,” Megumi answers in stride. “I’ll go get packed. Ten minutes okay?”

“Yeah.” You smile, loving the easy way the conversation’s finally flowing between you again. “I’ll see you back here in-“

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Adam and Eve,” calls Gojo, strolling idly by and looking far too pleased with himself.

When you’d finally been released from the infirmary two weeks back, you’d returned to your rooms to find a brand new copy of Paradise Lost leaned jauntily against your pillows. Each bore an inscription inside- for next time, G.S.

Just as you suspected, not a day’s gone by that he hasn’t brought it up.

“Evening, Gojo,” you call, voice dripping with mock-honey. “Thanks again for the save. Could have done without the snake part, though.” You shiver dramatically. “I hate snakes.”

Gojo smiles mildly. “Next time I’ll come as the angel, with a flaming sword.”

You’re both rolling your eyes and turning to go when he stops you again.

“Hey!” he calls, digging into his pocket. “I heard you’re taking an assignment. Heading out to meet up with Nanami-san, right? I got you something.”

He draws his hand from his pocket with his fingers closed around something small enough to fit into his palm.

“For protection,” he notes, tossing it in Megumi’s direction. It unfurls as it sails through the air, and Megumi fumbles for a moment before catching it in both hands.

It’s a strip of condoms.

“Have a nice trip,” Gojo sings, already halfway across the courtyard again.

Megumi opens his mouth, but the words die in his flushed throat. He casts you a sideways glance.

“Don’t,” he threatens, voice wavering already. Your lips are pressed together so tightly it hurts, but the snort escapes your nose.

“I’m not,” you plead.

“You are.” He stutters this time, eyebrows twitching. “It’s. Not. Fun-“

It’s funny.

You descend into mad fits of laughter, together, before he can prove otherwise.

[animedumpfanfics]

Aizawa Shota: As A Loving Husband

This is part 2 to my series of As A Loving Husband. Here is my first one of Tokyo Revengers, Mutō Yasuhiro - As A Loving Husband

CW: fluff, smidge of angst, aftercare, hero work, children, mentions of NSFW (breeding kink, pet names, spanking, choking, etc.)

Dilf Aizawa x fem reader (two years younger than him)

He greets you with kisses on the cheek first then kisses your lips just because he likes it and knows that you do. You both also happen to have the same scar under your eye that you got for different reasons but sometimes you’d both kiss that scar as a loving gesture.

Despite him looking like he’s very reserved when it comes to feelings he’s actually not. He tells you what he feels whether it’s verbally or physically. Most of the time it’s physically when he comes home after teaching his class full of problem children. He’d usually find you in the kitchen and would wrap his arms around your waist while he nuzzled into the crook of your neck with some kisses.

He tells you he loves you every morning the minute he wakes up because that’s how he told you the first time.

You both give each other massages every Sunday morning just because that was one of the things you both found was good quality time with each other.

When he holds your hand, he caresses your skin with his thumb showing it as a sign of comfort when you’d get anxious around big crowds of people. it also lets him know that you’re there with him too.

He says he doesn’t like it when you bring him lunch during school hours because of the teasing he gets from it but he truly loves it. He also loves the fact that the bento box you got it was black and the wrap was yellow with little black kitten faces, matching his sleeping bag

He calls you kitty, sweetheart, or baby but when he calls you by your government name he’s mad or irritated. Then he feels bad calling you by your name because of the look you carry the minute you hear him say that. Big doe eyes and immediately starts sniffing not out of being a brat or making him feel bad - just because you’re dramatic that way which also still makes you a brat in his eyes.

When you do start crying over him calling you by your government name or due to other reasons, his soft side for you completely takes over. He will quite literally sweep you off your feet and run a warm bath for you. No matter how big or small the reason is for you crying, he’ll always be there to take care of you. Even after a few heated arguments he’ll take care of you because he never wants to go to bed angry nor sleep separate from you.

He lets you and your adoptive daughter, Eri braid his hair and decorate it with hair clips galore. He’s even taken up the challenge of sitting down on a tiny pink chair for an hour while Eri does his makeup for the day. And to make her extra happy, he’ll even wear it at home all day.

He loves how supportive you have been even before you guys started dating. It’s hard for heroes to find someone who truly understands being with a hero and you are one of those people. Yes, you guys have had arguments over hero work but that was out of fear that he may not come back home or that you might get hurt because of villains taking advantage. You’ve been supportive over him being a single dad and taking up the challenge to train Eri how to use her Quirk.

He knew you were it for him when he came home from work later than usual on a weekend. He didn’t realize he forgot to tell you till he walked through the front door and saw you waiting for him. He thought you were mad but when you greeted him with a smile a hug then said “Welcome home even though you’re a little late” with a giggle following after that.

When you’ve come home drunk after work dinners or clubbing, he genuinely laughs at you when you get a bit clingy and bratty. He also laughs at you when you raid your guys kitchen looking for some sweets to eat while he washes your body in the bath he drew for you. He enjoys the fact that you sing - no rather than scream an entire song you heard at the club you were at with your friends every couple of weeks then he’d end up singing it with you after passing him the invisible microphone.

Both of you go at it like rabbits believe it or not. With your breeding kinks and the fact that you act like a brat to get some sort of punishment from him had gotten you pregnant. And what made it more memorable around the time you got pregnant was when you both realized that you had the breeding kink. Aizawa had you flushed against his back as he spread your legs apart hooked over his arms in front of the standing mirror the night you begged him to fill you up with his kids for the first time. “Yeah? You want to milk my cock like a good kitty?” he groaned in your neck. The second he felt the way your cunt fluttered around his cock the rest of that week, you were walking around with his cum dripping down your legs.

He also has a thing for you sitting on his face for hours on end. He didn’t have to fuck you dumb with his cock because his tongue was more than enough for you. And sometimes when he knows you’re to fucked to do anything about it (with consent of course) he’ll slip his tongue towards your tight asshole while he fingered your cunt at the same time. He’s also made you count to 20 while he spanked you for teasing him at his workplace.

He would rather relive the USJ Attack than have you ever near any sort of violence which is why your house is a bit away from the city. But that one time you were caught in the crossfire of an attack, he genuinely thought he was going to lose it because you were 8 months pregnant with the twins when it happened. Him and Eri were in tears hearing that the doctors had to deliver the babies one month early because of the stress your body was under but you all made it. You both welcomed a baby boy and a girl.

He also got jealous when he saw his babies sucking on your tits the first time you fed them at home. He the proceeded to ask if he can “help” massage your tits to cover up the fact that he has a lactation kink. One thing led to another, he was fucking you while he nearly sucked all the milk out of both your tits.

[animedumpfanfics]

why in every eren fanfic i read , the reader is a lil bitch..like damn girl , stand up , STAND UP!

[animedumpfanfics]

𝐉𝐔𝐉𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐔 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐍 + 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐓

☰ CHARACTERS ⋮ gojo satoru, geto suguru, fushiguro toji, nanami kento, okkotsu yuta

— contents ⋮ nsfw and 18+ content, all characters are aged up, fem! reader, unprotected sex, dacryphilia, slight size kink, riding, creampie, overstimulation

— notes ⋮ this was originally just a gojo thirst but i lost motivation to write what i had planned and i just decided to make this into hcs so that is why his is a bit longer sobsob

𖧷 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎

gojo watches with a grin on his face as you try to take all of him in, hands behind his head while you struggle to fit his thick girth all the way. he smirks at the way tears prick at your lashes and your lips wobble as they curl into a soft pout, looking at him with pleading eyes. 

“what’s wrong, sweetheart? can’t fit it all? thought you said you wanted to do it yourself,” he grins wickedly, chuckling as you huff and send him a glare. you’re stubborn—always have been, and it makes it all the more exciting to wreck you. 

and gojo is going to utterly wreck you, he thinks. 

“c-can’t—’s too big. won’t fit,” you sniffle, “toru, do something,” you huff. 

“aw, can’t even take my cock without my help, can you?” he all but sings, “i gotta do everything for you, sweetheart. just too damn spoiled, huh?” with that, he licks his lips and angles his hips upward in a swift motion that has him burying to the hilt and making you fall against his chest as your face digs into his neck with a sob. the fat head of his cock hits deep against the sensitive spot of your slick cunt, making tears slip down your cheeks as he slams against it over and over again with every roll of his hips. 

“fuck—toru,” you squeal, “more, wan’ more,” you sniffle, clutching onto his shirt. he lets out a breathy laugh, grunting as your tight walls clench down on him, your arousal glistening over his reddened cock as his hips roll into yours and his hands find your waist to pull you down and bounce you on his length. with a particularly sharp thrust, you mewl as his tip slams into your spot again, making him choke at the way you clench around him. 

“that’s it, baby. take me so well, don’t you? fucked this pussy so many times, i fit right in,” he pants, “‘s my pussy, right? all mine.”

𖧷 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎

geto pauses for a moment before he lets a wide grin tug on his lips, his hips rolling in the same angle over and over as he watches you intently. he chuckles quietly as your tits bounce with each thrust, head tossing back and eyes squeezing shut as one gasp is cut off by the next as the velvety tip of his cock hits against your sweet spot. 

“looks like i found it, huh baby? like when i fuck you there? bet that feels good,” he says sweetly, slamming his hips again at a sharp angle, grinning when you squeal his name and let out a soft sob. 

“‘s too much, suguru, slow d-dow—o-oh!” you cut yourself off with a moan when his thumb rolls over your clit—and it’s almost cruel, really. the way his thick cock drags along your gummy walls, the way his thumb rubs over your sensitive clit so harshly, the way his mouth sucks on your neck and nips at your skin. it’s too much, it makes your head spin and your eyes roll back as your thighs quiver. 

“your mouth says one thing, but your pussy’s saying another,” he hums, “you’re sucking me in all on your own, baby. you want more, don’t you? i’ll give you more, don’t worry,” he grins, “gonna fuck you like you deserve,” he kisses the tears from your cheeks before rolling his hips, hitting the same spot deep inside you over and over again, watching you get lost on his cock with a proud smirk.

𖧷 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

toji is more than a little pleased at the way your hands grip the edge of the counter, pulling your hips back against him as he slams into you from behind. he chuckles at the way your legs are quivering, knees seconds from giving out as he bullies his fat cock into your sloppy cunt. he’s painfully hard, throbbing in your slick heat, the purpled tip of his cock nudging past your folds and stretching you open with every snap of his hips. 

“doll, you’re dripping,” he rasps, the scarred side of his lips tugging into a lopsided smirk, “gonna leave a mess all over the floors at this rate,” he chuckles as you whine in embarrassment. 

“o-oh—god, toji,” you whimper, back arching to give him better access, making him slam against the spot that makes you dizzy as you grip the counter tighter, “please, please, please,” you chant. 

“please what, doll? gotta use your big girl words,” he purrs, “too busy gushin’ all over my cock, ya can’t even speak properly.” he ruts his hips deeper into you, balls clapping against your ass and veins dragging along your tight, warm walls and granting your more friction. he grunts as you clench down on him with another roll of his hips, feeling as you get closer and closer with the way your pussy sucks him in as he sinks deeper into you with each thrust. 

“that’s it, princess,” he grunts, “takin’ me so well, aren’t ya? such a greedy little pussy, ya got there.”

𖧷 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

“that feel good, love?” nanami murmurs against your jaw, pressing a soft kiss into the skin as his lips travel along your neck, sucking over your pulse. he hikes a leg over his shoulder, granting himself better access to slam deeper into your walls, your arousal and his pre cum coating the inside of your thighs in a sticky mess. 

“yes, yes—like that, kento,” you gasp, “don’t stop,” you plead, bucking your hips upwards and meeting him halfway. nanami hums, slowly rolling his hips to drag his pulsing member along your walls, groaning when you hug around his aching length tightly. he watches his cock slip in and out of you, looking down to see the slight glisten of his reddened girth from the arousal dripping from your heat. you whine as he pushes past your folds and curves into you perfectly, tip kissing you just where you need him with ease. “kento,” you whimper. 

“i know, love,” he murmurs, “i know. sh-shit—’m close too,” he rasps before biting your lower lip gently and pressing his lips to yours, drinking in every muffled squeal as he angles himself to bury his tip against the sensitive, velvety spot of your walls. “let go for me, yeah? fuck—need to feel you cum for me,” he moans, forehead pressing against yours as he lets out breathy pants against your skin.

𖧷 𝐘𝐔𝐓𝐀

“god—you’re so tight,” yuta gasps, whining into your neck as you tug at his hair. his hips are rolling into you desperately, chasing the friction the warm walls of your dripping cunt offers him, squeezing him in until it’s almost hard to move. “‘m so close—g-gonna cum. cum with me, please,” he pants, “gotta feel you.”

“yuta, ‘m close—so close,” you sob, “gonna cum too—fuck, feels good.”

“love you,” he whines, “g-god, i love you so much. feel this? ‘s all for you,” he stutters, “gonna cum for you.” he’s thrusting into you sloppily by now, hips losing their rhythm as he ruts into you as best he can, hitting you deep against your sweet spot. it makes you gasp, makes your walls flutter around him until he’s moaning helplessly at the way you squeeze around him. 

“right there, yuta—p-please,” you whimper, and he drills his thick cock into your wet cunt over and over again, chasing the sweet friction of your pussy and the way you clamp down on him as he finds your spot repeatedly. 

“more, more, more,” he pants, ragged and drunk on pleasure, “need more—gonna give you more.” with one more thrust, you break, walls spasming around him as you wail his name through your release, spurring his own orgasm as thick, hot ropes of cum spill into your walls and fill you up. “so good, ‘s so good—not enough,” he whimpers, still nudging his reddened tip deep into you, even as you both hiss from the overstimulation. “one more, jus’ one more, please.”

© hanmas do not plagiarize, repost, translate to other sites, or recommend on platforms outside tumblr such as tik tok

[animedumpfanfics]

it’s not a common monster fucker thing but dragon!suguru + overstim if possible! :)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ❥ explicit, monster fucking, incubus!reader, dragon!suguru can take on a half human looking form, suguru lust has a taste, breeding, dragons are possessive which means suguru is possessive over you, mindbreak/overstimulation, pussy drunk!suguru, suguru has a pleasure/pain kink, talk of suguru’s monster dragon cock, degradation, HUGE SIZE KINK, hentai logic, suguru cock is big enough it can hold you in the air

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ⇝ I would love to do more fire dragon!suguru, I feel like he hoards books, wine, wilted flowers, art, tea and soft blankets and pillows. Would start hoarding your favorite things as well

Suguru says, “It is true what they say about an incubus. You’re bodies can handle anything sexual. Fuck I was hoping your tiny pussy could take my fat cock. Nnnn such a fucking perfect little incubus taking so much cum.” While he pushes you down on his cock.

Every time you try to form a thought one of the three knots of his thick cock tugs on your pussy. While he pumps your body up and down his length, like a cock sleeve.

The rounded pointed tip of his upturned cock roughly hitting of your pussy. Before pushing past, sending a new mind numbing wave of pleasure throughout your body every time.

Your only thoughts are of the bittersweet taste of his lust, dark chocolate and pomegranate, like hell’s sweet. And the way his cock feels when he is deep inside you. And you are stuffed full of all three of his fat knots, one bigger than the other getting closer to the base of him. Which when it slips inside of you, your mind goes blank.

The intensity of the pleasure from being so full overcoming you. While you gush around his cock. Your aphrodisiac pussy juices dripping down his balls. Which ache and tingle, f wanting to spill more cum and to cum some more.

Lifting you off his cock, till only his thick head is between your puffy lips. He purrs, “Too cock drunk to speak? That’s not fair I’m getting high of your pretty little pussy, yet I’m still talking to you.” He quickly pushes you down and lets you go. And you stay there stuck in the air held up by his fat cock buried deep inside of you.

Your legs dangling, and your arms tied behind your back. Over your cute little ass with feels so soft pressing against him. After you take all of his cock, which should be psychically possible due to the size difference. But he can feel your pussy squeezing all him.

Suguru groans. “If only you could see yourself right now. You have so much of my cum dripping out of your pussy.” Wrapping his hand around your body, his fingers touching his palm. Which keeps his poisonous claws from threatening you.

Finally you form a sentence pleading, “More warm cum!” His cum always made you feel so warm, and tingly, chasing away any sense of cold. And making your body feel floaty.

He slowly lifts you up, watching his fattest knot tug at your pussy unwilling to easily slip out. While he groans, “Such a greedy slut for this monster cock aren’t you?”

⇝ read more?

[animedumpfanfics]

So I've had this thought... Nanami has always been a good test taker, he studied hard and worked hard and he's never really experienced failure in this regard. So, when the reader tells him that the pregnancy test that they took was negative (for the nth time), he'd be extremely frustrated and go absolutely feral. He'd fuck them hard on the closest surface, not stopping (pushing past his overstimulated state) until he's certain that this time he's done it and you're filled with his cum. Because Nanami doesn't fail at tests and a pregnancy test is one he refuses to fail.

THIS POST ABOUT TO MAKE ME START YELLIN GJEJJEJJFSJ WHAT DO YOU MEAN BOX OF SHAME, BABY, THIS IS SO FUCKING SEXY OF YOU TO WRITE 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

just picture he's got you up on the counter and he's fucking into you so hard that your legs are shaking and you can't do anything but claw your hands into his back and his middle and hold on for the ride

and he's grunting and groaning in your ear and your neck because he's frustrated but you're so fucking turned on bc he usually doesn't sound this feral

and you're mewling like "k-kento--" and he groans loud because he'll be damned if he's gonna fail this time

and you cry out when you get hauled off the counter with him still buried deep inside you and he waddles awkwardly over into the bedroom holding you in the air, a few chaotic awkward deep thrusts still happening as you're moaning his name more

and you both go tumbling down onto the bed and you still can't do anything but hold on because he's practically turned into someone you dont even recognize bc he's fucking up into you so hard and in such a frenzy that your body is moving up the bed as his balls clap loudly against your ass and you cant even say words anymore, and you're just wailing his name with your nails digging into his back and he's breathing hard and grunting low for you to take everything he's going to give you and how he's not going to stop until his cum is gushing out of you and messing up the sheets and making sure this time is the time and even after he comes, he's still thrusting inside you slowly and he's shaky because he's so senstive and your little cunt is still trying to suck him in more and he's moaning how much he loves you and he's pushing all of his cum deeper into you and murmuring to you about how he's going to come in you all night if that's what it takes

ooooo you gotta come talk to me more often, im surprised at myself i wrote this, this is so fucking hot, i need I need a minute fuck 🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴