sleepykoko - Tumblr blog

sleepykoko · 2 years

Note

having horrible horny thoughts about telling best friend hanma no guy has ever made you cum so he takes it upon himself to be the first because he deserves it and wants to be your first something :,( eats you out like a starved man and his strokes are immaculate someone help 💔💔

— 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐄 !! : hanma shuji.

cw: f!reader. college au(?). you're inexperienced, shuji is secretly in love with you. pussy eating, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstim, edging, he makes you call him daddy. if this makes no sense its bec i wrote w my clit.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ . ｡˚ ♡ "i dare you to tell me somethin' that'll make me laugh."

“no guy’s ever made me cum.” you’d told hanma. a not so innocent answer to a rather innocent dare, you admit. but he’s your best friend, nothing less (and nothing more). it’s fine.

and there was an awkward, momentary silence for a few seconds. he’d fallen still, holding the cigarette he’d been about to take a drag from in mid air, amber eyes flickering with an emotion unreadable to you.

“say what, dollface?” he asks — using that petname with you again, that your exes always hated — and the disbelieving tone in his voice embarrasses you, brings a flush to your cheeks and ties a knot of humiliation in your guts.

you squirm on the back of his motorcycle, as he turns his head to look at you, leaning against the fence right by you, where he’d parked the vehicle.

“i—” you stutter, flustered. “no guy’s ever made me cum before.” just something funny that’d slipped out your mouth, during a lazy game of truth or dare you’d played during his smoke break after class.

“that’s fucking funny, doll.” he does laugh, but it’s awkward. “you serious?”

“yes.” you’d answered. truthfully.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ and now, you’re splayed out between hanma’s legs, on his bed in his room, his long and lithe fingers bullying their way into your cunt for the third time. “h—ah! wait!”

he’s leaning against the headboard, one arm hooked around your waist, hand firmly on your thigh and holding your legs spread apart, fingers in your pussy as he chuckles lowly at your whines.

you’d question it — question what the fuck was happening, if he just wasn’t so fucking hot and making you feel so fucking good.

“that’s it,” he smirks, as you drop your head against his chest, grabbing onto his wrist, desperately trying to close your legs as he effortlessly draws another orgasm out of you. “that’s it ... ya look fuckin’ cute when you’re cumming.”

he laughs when you try to look up at him and scowl, eyes fluttering and rolling back into your head when he uses the hand that’s not busy fucking your pussy to land a slap on your clit.

you moan again, and he laughs. “see? atta girl, so pretty when you cum. tellin’ me nobody’s ever seen you like this?”

you dont answer, too busy trying to blink back the wave of dizziness that’s washing over you with the bliss hanma’s giving you, on his fingers alone.

the inked kanji on the back of his hand flashes darkly, sin bobbing up and down between your legs, shiny with your slick, as hanma curls his fingers into your tight, clenching walls and rasps into the shell of your ear, “asked you a question, dollface.”

“nobody,” you gasp, for some reason so nervous yet so turned on, by the demanding, challenging edge to his tone. “nobody, hanma— ah!”

“tch, it’s shuji, sweetheart.” he pinches your clit, laughs when your knees jerk up at the sensation.

his voice goes a little softer as he continues, thinking you wouldn’t notice the hint of jealousy and longing in his voice with the state you’re in. “gonna keep me just your friend, just your ol’ buddy hanma-kun even after i take you on my bed, fuck you on my fingers ’n make you cum over ’n over again?”

“a—mngh, ’m sorry, shuji,” you whine, too enamoured by how he feels to argue, and his heart jumps at how sweet his name sounds off your tongue. “f—fuck, feels so good!”

“would feel better if i were usin’ my tongue. or if you were on my cock.” he laughs when your expression visibly scrunches up in embarrassment, cooing at you and telling you how cute you are as he grips your waist and turns you around to straddle him, legs shaky with the effect of your previous orgasms. “want me to do it, yeah?”

“mmm,” you answer though you’re not sure what he means, holding onto his shoulders for support. he holds you steady, and slides himself down onto his back onto the mattress, pushing your legs further apart around him and cupping your ass, pulling you forward — and you realize what he’s about to do. “shuji, no, i’ve n—”

you cut yourself off, but hanma picks your sentence up anyway.

“never been eaten out before?” he asks, sounding both unconvinced and pissed off at the same time, and you sit there as he stares up at you, so fucking embarrassed—

“my doll’s been gettin’ treated like shit, huh?” he breathes, gold eyes tracing your figure down. “sweet lil’ thing, i’ll show you how y’should be treated, a’right?”

“mm,” you let out a sound, so shy when his voice goes all sympathetic. it makes your pussy go slick with want, your heart beating faster with anticipation. “mkay.”

hanma doesn’t hold back. he tightens his arms around your hips and waist in an instant, pulling your cunt down on his mouth, nose pressed just over your clit as he inhales deep into you, letting out a needy growl as he opens his mouth and takes you.

your hands scramble to find a hold on the headboard as he rocks you forward, trapping you on your knees with your thighs plush and warm around his face, drinking in your cunt — devouring you like a man starved. “fuck,” he slurs into your heat, muffled and hot. “shit, baby, s’ fuckin—good.”

his tongue grazes your clit, curls around it and sucks, and you cry out, squirming in his arms, one hand leaving the headboard to get down and curl your fingers into his hair and tug, stuttering his name out in a pleading chant. “shuji, shuji, shuji — fuck!”

the moan he lets out when you pull at his black and blonde locks thrums against your cunt, and when he sucks at your clit again, slurping loudly and grunting praise into you, it’s enough to make you cum again. “ah, shuji, cumming, cumming!”

“i know,” he hisses, and when you look down at him, the rise of his cheekbones, his nose and his mouth are soaked with your wetness— and his eyes are blown wide, the gold of them almost lost in the darkness of his want. “i know, baby. i know.”

“please,” you hiccup, tears blurring your vision, hips trembling as you try not to collapse over hanma’s face.

your cunt aches, empty despite the way he shoves his tongue up your fluttering hole, and you dont want another orgasm without it. “fuck! shuji — shuji please, need your cock.”

“mm — what’d you say, dollface?” he grunts, licking at your clit, yanking you back in when you try to lift yourself off him. “cant just get all you want like that. say it right f’me.”

“w-what?” you sob, unsure what he means but so needy to obey, because you just need him to stuff you full and fill you up already.

you dont know if it’s wrong or not, to want your best friend’s dick inside you so badly, but you’ve gone this far, havent you? he’s giving you what you want.

“you g’na do as i say?” he smirks, watching how you nod and keen when he tongues at your abused clit again. “then say ‘i love you, daddy, i only want you ‘n your cock from now on’.”

huh? — it takes a second or two, but the words put clarity in your head, somewhat, when you hear them.

swallowing back the shaky whine of acceptance bubbling at your throat, you manage to ask instead, “you want me to tell you i love you?”

there’s a small pause, before hanma’s grip on your hips tightens again.

but this time, he pulls you off.

it urges you back to your position straddling his hips, as he sits back up, leaning on the headboard once more — and though his hard-on brushing hot and heavy through his jeans against your messy cunt is distracting, you pay attention to his expression instead.

hanma stares at you, face wet with your slick and hair messy with your hand tangling through the dyed locks. “so you ... dont?”

it’s a sudden flipside to the multiple orgasms he’d just sent you through, and it disorients you just a little.

but the look in his amber eyes, black and blonde hair stuck to his forehead and framing his face, the warmth in your heart as you contemplate an answer — and the desperate ache in your empty cunt, it all convinces you to say you do.

“i do.”

there’s yet another damned pause, as you sit on hanma’s lap, naked and with his dick hard under your ass, your palms flat against his bare chest — if someone’d told you before that a dumb game of truth or dare after class would lead you to this situation, you’d laugh.

but — but this is shuji. he’s rough on the exterior, a major tease, a man notorious and famous on the streets; but really? he’s sweet.

he buys you coffee, takes you out shopping, takes you to the salon, pays for your takeout. he always tells you he'll fuck your exes up if they hurt you or make you cry (and they have done so, but you've never allowed him to beat them).

he goes with you to the library, even though he doesn't even care for spending hours on assignments or work. to be fair, he does leave you in there and go out to smoke after only a few minutes, but he always comes back to drop you home.

he's so nice to you, despite himself. and turns out, if you'd just ask, he'd fuck you too.

he’s your best friend. nothing less, nothing more, but you decide it now, trembling from the euphoria he’s giving you. you want more.

it’s possessive and spells desire, how he’d pulled you in here to make up for your ‘stupid shit exes’, telling you he would make you feel good if nobody else has done it before.

it’s all so sudden, but it makes sense. he’s been just your best friend this whole time, but you want more.

“i do love you, shuji.”

hanma lets out a breath, when you repeat it. “really, now?” he mutters. “not just sayin’ that so i’ll give you my cock? dont play with my heart now, doll.” he chuckles, but you can see the sincerity in his eyes.

“i do.” you mumble, shy again under the intensity of his piercing stare. “and i guess ... that’s why it never worked with anyone else. when you were there this whole time.”

“hah,” hanma laughs, steadying his hold on your waist before bringing one hand up to pat your cheek. ”y’ telling me no other asshole could make you cum, ‘cause you were busy wishin’ it was me?”

“no!” you blurt out, but when he grins wider, slides his hand down from your cheek to pinch the soft flesh of your tits, the electric shiver that courses down your spine says otherwise. it would be a lie, to say that you’ve never wanted him. “yeah, m-maybe.”

“fuck,” he hisses at that, eyes going even darker, like the dubious confirmation you’d given him was all he needed, like it was a love shot and a stroke of lust in one — and he yanks the buttons and zipper of his jeans open, tugging the fabric apart and pulling out his straining cock.

it’s big — unsurprising, but still a sight to take in, and you whimper tearfully when he grabs the length in his hand and taps his head to your clit, letting out a breathy chuckle. “biggest cock y’ ever seen, mhm?”

and you’d want to keep from boosting his ego, but the way you stare is answer enough. “n-need you in me, shuji.” you beg, and he just laughs again, rubbing the pearl of precum that swells at his tip across your slit, teasing. “say what i told you to say, then. if y’love me.”

call him daddy? “do i really have to?” you whine, pushing forward and grinding up on his cockhead. it ellicits a rough moan from him, that makes your clit throb when you hear it — but hanma remains adamant.

“you hafta, dollface.” he smiles, showing you teeth. “you’ll do it, if y’ really want me so bad.”

and god, the layers of pleasure he’d drowned you in are too sharp, too overwhelming for you to refuse and stop this right now — you want, need his cock. right now.

fine. “i—i love you, daddy.” you mumble, eyes skirting down because you cant bring yourself to look him in the eyes. “and i-i want only you. only your cock, and only you. i love you.”

and it’s like hanma has been waiting for this moment his whole life.

“shit, baby,” he huffs, pulling your tits flush against his body as he grabs you by the waist and by the back of your neck, dragging you in and meeting your lips with his in a starved kiss — fuck, he hadn’t kissed you until now?

you realize it, with both a pang and a fluttering in your heart, but the thought is soon knocked out of your head, as he kisses you again, tasting the lingering essence of yourself on his tongue, tasting him, catching the scent of cigarettes and men’s cologne on his mouth and neck as you lean into him, letting him savour you whole.

“god, i love you.” he groans, as he lines his cock up at your entrance, sliding sin and punishment over to your ass again and sheathing you down on him. “loved you f’so long now, baby. d’you know how i’ve felt? ‘n now y’re fuckin’ telling me all those assholes you dated never made you cum. fuck.”

“mm, sh-shuji!” you cry, and he moans in your ear in reply. “s-slower! please, please—”

“‘m too big for you?” he rasps, voice hoarse with pleasure. god, he’s wanted this forever. your tight, velvet walls clenching around him, wet and hot and your body on him, so pretty and all his.

“cant slow down, sweetheart.” he hisses. “consider this your punishment. for playin’ with my heart like that, for so long.” you’ve got your arms wrapped around hanma’s neck, trying to control the pace at which you sink down on his cock, but he rolls his hips up and pushes all the way into you anyway.

“a—haah! shuji!” your moan is saccharine in his ear, and he swallows back a curse, knowing that it’s not going to be long before he’s cumming, filling you all up.

“say sorry, baby.” he growls, pulling out before shoving back in you again, putting stars into your eyes with the sharp slap of skin against skin, the harsh kiss of his tip against your cervix. “really didn’t think i loved you, even when i was fuckin’ knuckle deep in you? callin’ you my dollface and telling you y’re pretty ‘n driving you around, and sucking on that sweet lil clit?”

you cry out, when he bites at the side of your neck, feeling even more embarrassed, feeling stupid — because god, you were stupid to miss the signs. to think he was just like that. when he only ever was that way with you. “‘m sorry, sorry. please, i’m sorry.”

“hmm,” he lulls, kissing the marks of his teeth that he’d left on you. “cant be mean with you, can i? too fuckin’ sweet for your own good.”

your mouth is on his cheek, lips sliding down his jaw in desperate kisses, needing him more even when he’s right here, when your body’s pressed to his and his lips are on you and his cock is all the way in your cunt. “mmngh,” you try, too dizzy to answer properly.

“now let’s teach ya how it feels to cum on a big, fat cock, yeah, dollface?” he says, starting up a hasty rhythm with his cock, up and down into you as you struggle to stay sitting up on his lap. “poor lil’ doll’s never even done this before?”

“never.” you keen, lost in the way his cock is so long, so thick, reaching all the sweet spots deep in your cunt in one fucking go. “n-never came on a cock before.”

“yeah, i know.” he says, all sympathetic again, and it sends heat rushing to both your face and your core. “g’na beg daddy to let you cum all over his cock?”

“mhm,” you moan, and he smiles, brings you in for another kiss as he speeds up. “then say it, baby. say what y’need to say to have your way.”

“mm, daddy, daddy—” you sob, trying to kiss him back as he hums into your mouth, forgetting your embarrassment at having to call him that, because fuck, it was starting to feel fitting. “please let me cum on your cock, please, please—”

“only if you’ll let me fill this pretty pussy all up.” he stutters, voice turning all raspy as he goes even faster, bouncing you up and down so hard as he nears his high.

he loves the way you beg. loves the way you call him by that name. so cute, and almost pathetic, for him. it’s a fresh change. one he wants to hold on to. “yeah? you’ll let me do that, baby? let daddy fill your cunt up with his cum?”

“yes,” you gasp, vision going cloudy with both tears and pleasure as you feel the coil in your stomach getting tighter and tighter all over again. “fuck, anything! anything, daddy, just please.”

“please what?” his laugh is now hoarse, as he looks at your blissed out face from under his lashes, eyes lidded and heavy with lust and pleasure.

the bedsheets under you are soaked, but neither of you can care — you moan again, sucking in a breath and falling into hanma’s chest, tired but so, so desperate to cum again. “please, shuji. please. need to cum on your cock. need you to cum in me.”

and he does.

hanma watches, vision hazy as his cock slides out of your cunt milky and drooling, and pushes back in — pushes in so deep he hits your cervix again and he cums, leaking hot, white ropes of seed into your tight, wet cunt — and it makes you cum, too.

“fuck, tryna milk me all up, huh?” he heaves as he maintains his pace, gritting his teeth and grabbing your hips when you try to meet the rhythm, pussy fluttering and sucking him in like you’ve needed him as much as he’s needed you. “pretty, pretty lil’ pussy — all mine, yeah?”

“all yours, shuji.” you sob, and he stares as your head tilts up, eyes rolling back in your head as they fall shut, drowning in the pure heaven of cumming while stuffed full of his big, big cock. “a-hnngh, all yours.”

“yeah, that’s right.” he growls, wrapping punishment around your throat, hauling you back in to kiss you, sloppy and open mouthed, as sin slips down between your bodies — pressing into your pulsing clit with his thumb as he continues fucking up into you, pace relaxing slowly. “that’s right. y’re all mine now. forever.”

an: hilarious how this was supposed to be only a short drabble but now it's a whole ass fic under venus's god tier ask </3

#nsfw #faves #oh my god #hanma #;~;

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sleepykoko · 2 years

Text

- ̗̀ magnetic everything about you, you really got me now ̖́-

day one massages ft. kokonoi hajime [tokyo revengers]

☄ tags/warnings: +18, afab!reader, post-timeskip, established relationship, begging, one (1) spank, hair-pulling, a bit of manhandling, orgasm delay, fingering, unprotected sex, cum play

☄ words: 1.7k

☄ a/n: welcome to day one of kinktober! <3 taglist is open, all you have to do is reply/rb the masterlist asking to be added or send me an ask! c:

☄ masterlist

Skilled fingers trail down your spine delicately, stopping at the small of your back and then sliding back up. You hum contently, Kokonoi’s warm hands easing all the pent-up tension in your muscles. The smell of the lavender oil he’s poured on your back fills the room, that’s only lit up by a couple of candles.

You have to give it to your boyfriend. When you complained about your long week, you hadn’t expected him to do anything about it but listen and maybe offer to make dinner so you could take a nap. While he did end up ordering food from your favourite restaurant, he also drew a hot bath for you. You poured yourself a glass of the red wine Kokonoi had purchased on his last work travel, humming at the earthy notes it left on your tongue as you felt your muscles relaxing under the warm water. In times like these, you were eternally grateful to have someone like Kokonoi in your life— he truly knew how to treat a woman.

It would be a lie if you said you were surprised when you noticed all the candles lighted around your bedroom. You walked barefoot around the room, only a thick white robe around your body protecting you from the cold after your bath. Not only were your favourite brand of candles lit, but there was also a stick of incense slowly burning near the window.

A couple of hands around your waist made you gasp. Soon enough, you felt a familiar warmth pressing against your back and a pair of lips leaving soft kisses across your neck.

“What’s all this for?” you ask with a soft smile, turning your head to give him more access to your neck. “Did I miss an important date?”

Kokonoi’s chuckle vibrates against your skin. “Can’t I spoil you just ‘cause I feel like it?”

You let out a dramatic long sigh. “I guess so.”

It’s not long before he’s making you spin on your heel, facing him. He’s wearing a long-sleeved t-shirt and some sweatpants, looking so comfortable and homely you can’t help but put your arms around his neck, a small smile playing on your lips.

One languid kiss turns into another, his hands set on the small of your back as he slowly guides you to the bed. You fall on his chest, sighing when he unties your robe and slides it off your body. His calloused fingers trail down your spine, making you sigh and press your body further. Kokonoi’s hand stops at the back of your thigh, grabbing it and using it to switch your positions until he’s hovering on top of you.

“I’m still not done,” he announces, pressing a chaste kiss on your lips before pulling away from you. You watch him walk to the bedside table, and pick up a small bottle of body oil. “C’mon, turn over,” he instructs as he returns to the bed.

Kokonoi pours lavender-scented oil on his hands, rubbing it between his fingers to warm it up. You do as he says and turn on your stomach, resting your head on your folded arms while you wait for him. Your boyfriend doesn’t wait long before sliding his fingers across your back with enough exact pressure to make you sigh in pleasure.

He starts at your neck, his thumb pressing on one side while his index and middle finger take the other. Applying medium pressure, he massages the back of your head, where it meets the neck. Groaning at how tight it feels, you close your eyes, letting him work his magic. He spends some time moving his fingers up and down your neck, grinning when he notices your tired muscles surrendering under his touch and loosening up.

Then, he moves to your shoulders, his thumbs pressing between your shoulder blades. You let out a moan and hear him chuckle as he continues working on your back. You’re not surprised how you hear some cracks as he keeps going down your spine. Kokonoi slides his hands up and down your waist, his fingers digging a little too hard on your hips. You can’t help the way your thighs press together.

“Oh?” he immediately says, his fingers travelling down the back of your thighs. “Getting a little excited?”

“No,” you reply, thankful he can’t notice the way heat has crept up your cheeks.

“Are you sure?” he asks. He moves his fingers in between your thighs. You hate the way your first impulse is to part your legs for him. You can almost hear his smirk as his fingers finally find your already wet core.

Koko slowly slides his index and middle finger across your slit, spreading your wetness around. A shaky breath leaves your lips as he does so, your back arching, your body asking more of him without you being able to do anything about it.

“Ah, I see,” he continues, shifting on the bed to have a better angle. “You like me touching you this much?” he teases you, circling your entrance. You bite your bottom lip, your pride not wanting you to answer. “Aw, not gonna answer, darling? Are you too embarrassed that a simple massage made you this wet?”

His fingers slide down again until they find your clit. You let out a choked whine. Koko’s left hand settles on your hip, his thumb caressing your skin as his other hand starts drawing circles around your clit. You rock your hips against his hand, needing more of him.

“That’s better,” he comments. “Just let go, baby. It has been a long day after all.”

Saying this, Kokonoi pushes his two fingers inside you. You moan, grabbing fistfuls of the sheets underneath you as he stretches you. He slides in and out easily and you almost feel ashamed by how wet his man can get you.

“Koko, fuck,” you moan, rutting against the mattress to get some friction as he slowly pumps his fingers.

“Shh, baby, it’s alright,” he soothes you.

With his free hand, Kokonoi parts your thighs further until he’s kneeling in between them. He lifts your hips, making your back arch deliciously, giving him a full view of your wet pussy clenching in pleasure around his fingers. He increases the speed his hand moves, grinning when he earns high-pitched whimpers from you.

The squelching sound as he fingers you is almost vulgar, yet you can’t seem to care. You press your face further on the pillow, ass up and on display for your boyfriend. His long fingers are hitting all the right places, making your eyes roll to the back in pleasure.

“You look so beautiful like this,” Kokonoi sighs as his left hand moves to grab a handful of your ass and squeezes it. He chuckles at the way your clench around him harder. “Oh? You like that?” he asks before he proceeds to spank you.

A tiny cry and the way your walls almost suck his fingers back in make him smirk. He picks up the speed of his fingers and hovers his body over you. He presses a kiss on your shoulder, your collarbone, the back of your neck as you start feeling your edge closer and closer.

“Let me see your pretty face,” he says, before grabbing a handful of your hair, pulling your head up. You gasp as he mercilessly thrusts his fingers inside you.

“Ah— Koko, I’m— I’m so close, so— so fucking close,” you manage to say in between moans.

He turns your head to the side for a kiss, swallowing your whimpers and pleas for more.

“Let me take care of you,” he whispers against your lips.

After he’s had a taste of you, he pushes your face back on the pillow, his hand resting on the back of your head and he moves his fingers impossibly fast. The room fills with both your moans and the sound of his fingers fucking you dumb. Kokonoi moves his thumb to your clit, bringing you to your breaking point as you come undone with a muffled scream.

You let yourself flop on the bed again, hips rutting against the mattress as you try to ride out your orgasm. However, not even five seconds pass before you feel two hands lifting your hips again, your knees trying their best to keep up. In your daze, you try and turn your head to ask what’s happening but the feeling of the head of Kokonoi’s cock against your entrance makes you gasp.

Soon, he’s pushing himself inside you. His pants are down his thighs, lips parted as he mutters curses as he rocks his hips against yours. Your name leaves his mouth like a goddamn prayer every time your overstimulated cunt sucks him back in. This is too much, both your body and your mind are sure of it, yet every time your boyfriend pulls almost completely away only to bury himself completely again you swear you see stars.

Kokonoi’s right hand travels to your front, finding your clit once more. He gently rubs it in circles, cursing when he feels you tightening around his length. Now it’s his name the one leaving your lips as your hips try to meet his thrusts in a desperate attempt to find your second high.

“Shit,” he grunts as you orgasm for the second time, clenching down around his length. Your whole body tenses as you see white light, his thrusts only helping you extend that blissful feeling. “Fuck— fuck— ah—”

Kokonoi pulls out right as he reaches his high, spurting white ropes of cum onto your cunt, that is still pulsating after your last orgasm. He watches it slide down your thighs as your legs slowly start to give out, letting yourself fall on the bed again. Seeing your legs still apart, he takes the opportunity to push his cum back inside you with his fingers, making you groan.

“Fuck,” you sigh, turning your head to the side. Kokonoi pats your ass playfully before laying down next to you, a soft smile on his lips. “Shit, are we doing this every time I have a bad week?” you tease him.

“We could. Just say the word,” he says, earning a smile from you.

He certainly knew how to treat a woman.

#faves #nsfw #koko 🫣

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sleepykoko · 2 years

Note

I’m here again to give you another one 🤧

Prompt #137 “do you know how beautiful you are? It’s truly distracting” with Kokonoi please 💜

Ask game!!

Work nights

-> Hajime Kokonoi x Reader (no pronouns used)

characters: Hajime Kokonoi

warnings: none

“Haji?” your voice echoes through the silent room where Kokonoi’s office is. He lifts his head to look at the door, your head peeking through the small gap that you opened. “It's late. Can you come to bed?”

Kokonoi looks at the papers on his desk and sighs. It's enough for you to understand that he won't be going to bed this soon. The way your face falls and the visible sadness in your eyes makes him want to get up and go cuddle you but he just can't. You make your way inside the room, your bare feet making a bit of noise as you walk towards your lover. You grab the chair on the other side of his table and drag it to his side so you can sit next to him. Kokonoi smiles softly looking at your tired face, eyes squinting a bit in confusion when you look at the numbers on the papers.

“You should go to sleep.” he murmurs.

“You know I can't fall asleep without you next to me.”

He knows. Of course he knows. Kokonoi always makes sure to be in bed with you until you fall asleep and then he leaves to his office to continue work. But something happened today, causing him to have even more work and taking him away from his precious time with you. He was already lucky enough that he convinced Mikey to continue his work at home. He presses a soft kiss on your forehead before going back to typing on his computer, fingers moving quickly on the keyboard. Kokonoi feels your head fall on his shoulder, your eyelids feeling heavy as your breathing starts to slow down. He keeps working, your closeness bringing him comfort.

After approximately thirty minutes, Kokonoi starts worrying about your neck. He starts kissing your face, trying to wake you up. Your nose moves a bit, Kokonoi can't help but compare you to a bunny, and you slowly open your eyes.

“Let's get you to bed, sweetheart, or your back will hurt tomorrow.”

You let out a whine, hugging his arm. “Wanna be close to you. Let me stay here."

Kokonoi smiles softly, looking at you. “Do you know how beautiful you are? It’s truly distracting.”

You hide your face on his arm and murmur a “Stop saying those things” before getting up, pulling his arm. You tell him to, at least, tuck you to bed and he happily complies as he follows you to your shared bedroom. He watches as you lay on his side of the bed, pulling his pillow close to your nose. Kokonoi pulls the blanket up, tucking you and placing a kiss on your lips. He murmurs a goodnight and you say it back, closing your eyes. He waits until your breath starts slowing down before leaving the room, leaving the door slightly open. With a heavy heart, he goes back to his office, with the mission of finishing work as soon as possible so he can go back to you.

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sleepykoko · 2 years

Text

IN THE WOLVES’ DEN

F.T - Mikey, Sanzu, Ran, Rindou, Kakuchou, Takeomi, Kokonoi. sub f reader

GENRE(s) - dark content, nsfw, explicit smut

W.C - 11.9k

A.N - my first long work on this blog and i decided to start out with a bang. quite literally. mind the warnings below, this is a heavy piece

C.W - dubious consent, gangbang (they all have separate turns), humiliation, praise, degradation, daddy kink, sir kink, master kink, corruption kink, overstimulation, dacryphilia, hair pulling, light asphyxiation, cum play, rough sex, manhandling, unprotected sex, watersports, power exchange, power play, dom/sub play, age gap for some characters (reader is in her mid 20s), slight infantilization, dumbification, objectification, voyeurism, clit slapping. | names used: angel, doll, darling, princess, good girl, whore, slut. | additional info: inaccurate loaning talk, bonten has power dynamics, mentions of prostitution, sloppy seconds, thirds, fourths, fifths and so on, sanzu fucks mikey’s cum back into you and likes it, ran fucks you with rindou’s cum still inside

SYNOPSIS - your father owes a debt he couldn’t pay back, and you have no choice but to lend a hand. if you don’t want him dead

Your father’s a good man. You know he is. He single-handedly raised you while your mother was hospitalized. Sick in bed, tumors in the brain, mutations in the lungs that shaped them badly - caused them from functioning properly that she needed a mechanical pump, chemotherapy, and further care at the facility she has been recommended to. Hospital bills, one man managing the house, and a child to look over, your father was tasked with a lot when he was just figuring out life, toughening against its hardships, growing from its trials.

Despite these difficulties, your father showed you and your mother love, care, hard work, and stability. All without lashing out. How can someone like that not be good?

All his life he’s done nothing but good, you don’t doubt him, however, he’s gotten mixed up with the wrong company.

It started with the house bills. The water and electricity would go out during weeks that your father’s paychecks didn’t line up conveniently. You went about two months with it on and off. Your father would beg the companies for hours if he had to before they took pity on him and turned it back on. Then came the hygiene issues. You would wear the same clothes a few days in a row or alternate, or sometimes, stains would still remain from the last wash. You were often called unkempt by your classmates, but you didn’t pay it any mind because your father was kind enough to apologize for the inconveniences of your life, even though any of it wasn’t his fault.

You understood at an early age that poverty exists, it can be cruel to even children. Life doesn’t soften for anyone, old or young, capable or handicapped - but you guess life does seem easier if you have more money.

You were given a reminder of this one day in the form of a wad of cash in a thick envelope, strange notes on the cover, and your father’s happily flushed face. The first thing he did was buy you new clothes. Pink dresses with frills and laces, cute shirts and pants, you were given the clothes often worn by the child mannequins in store windows that other girls your age would whine to their parents about. The bills were finally paid on time, never a minute late. Your water and electricity never went out again. You could finally eat meat and poultry instead of scraping by on veggies, and most of all, your mother’s care increased in quality since the treatment could finally be paid.

Because of this, you didn’t buy too many things that were extravagant. It wasn’t luxury, but it wasn’t poverty either. Not too much, not too little. Content. Balanced. Sufficient. You and your family had enough to live comfortably without starving for anything or indulging in too much. You were at least able to afford the necessities, and that was all that really mattered in the end.

A few years went by in peace before this careful bubble of calm popped.

Your father started receiving late night phone calls that lasted hours and left him kneeling at the tatami, frantically pleading into the receiver. A vehicle would stake out your front yard, you would get loads of mail from one place, and one name specifically, and scary men in black suits would leave your house just as you got home.

His interest skyrocketed after these visits. And he was so close to paying off the account too. Which baffled you because-

The best interest and flexibility periods! With rates as low as 0.60% and a five year plan to ensure payoff, come join Wena Loaning now! You remember reading off their website, pages of 5 star reviews below the statement. They seemed so nice and legitimate. Honest. Your father isn’t stupid. He must have checked, double checked the details of their services before applying. There’s no way he would have given himself any chance to be taken advantage of knowing how easy it is with his socioeconomic status.

Perhaps your family was doomed from the start. A 3 hour rabbit hole down Reddit forums and obscure website threads lead you to your current discovery, the loaning company that your father borrowed money from is supposed to be a cover for a syndicate, Bonten. And an even deeper look showed that they were criminals.

He didn’t know any of this at all. Merely thought he was joining a normal loaning company. If only he knew.

You tried helping him in any way you could with your job, but even your most current one, a comfy 9-5 in an office cubby printing out papers and correcting documents, wasn’t enough. So you settled with calling the loaning company to discuss another option which quickly got you transferred to an eerie phone call.

“Hello?”

“Hi! I was told to wait for someone who could help me with my question?”

There was a silence for a few seconds before a deep chuckle cut the quiet. “Oh, you’ve got a pretty voice, don't you?” Your brows cinched together as papers rustled and a chair squeaked. “But, yes, how can I help you?”

This man’s tone and manner of speaking should have warned you, should have given you an idea on what type of person you would be dealing with. You did pause slightly at his strange timing of jokes, but figured he was trying to ease your nerves. People in the loaning business can be…off-putting, you don’t pay any mind to them because you know they’re trying to get under your skin, or butter you up for an unfair deal.

But nothing could have prepared you for what his choice of words were.

“You’d have to sell yourself.”

“S- Sell? What!”

“Yes, you. The loan we have on record exceeded our maximum principal, the amortized loan plan has ended, and the grace period for any delays in payment has long passed. So the interest and overall account has doubled. Far too much for what we think can be paid off in the present months.” The chair squeaks again. “Now the solution to this is finding any work under the moon that could pay sufficiently. Luckily for you, we have an escorting service to offer. We pay fine money, and you’ll even get tips if you’ve satisfied our clients some.”

His voice got closer. “Are you up to that?”

You took a few seconds to think it over. The bags under your father’s eyes, the spots and dark bruises on his body, the one time you came home to him with a black eye, the phone calls you overhear. You don’t want him experiencing that any longer.

“I’ll do it.”

There was another chuckle that almost sounded like a deep purr before he chirped, “We’ll pick you up next week to discuss in person what happens next.”

And that sealed your fate.

“I’m sorry, Baby. I’m so, so sorry. Your father’s a bad man.” He shakes in your hold, body trembling terribly. You can feel his despair slowly inch its way to your calm facade, claw through the careful composure of your artificial ease.

You shouldn’t be scared. Don’t have the right to. Because you chose this yourself. You chose-

“Relax, old man! Your debt’s finally getting paid off. Your daughter’s been so kind as to do that for you.” The man laughs.

He looks as frivolous and mischievous as he sounded over the phone. Streaks of black highlights tousled in dyed purple hair was the first thing that caught your eye when you opened the door. Murky lavender orbs cradling equally dark pupils were the next. “She called us herself, pleading for her to take over the loan. Anything to help Daddy.”

His lips twist. “But most children leave their parents to their demise. Those parents were never really good to them in the first place.” Amethyst eyes brighten. “It’s rare meeting a father-daughter bond so genuine.”

His breath hitches the tiniest bit. Not enough for your father to hear, but you hear him loud and clear. “What a good girl you have.”

Your skin prickles, and a shiver recoils your spine. “She must’ve been taught well.” He whistles, smile inching higher. “Must listen well too.” His eyes dim, swirling with molten lust, and you scoot closer to your father. Something of an instinctual plea for comfort, but you know deep down that neither of you can help yourself.

However, that doesn’t stop him from begging. A lot.

“No, please! There must be another way. I can work for you. Sell a limb, a kidney! Anything! Just, please don’t harm my girl.” He’s not scared of groveling for your well-being. He’ll do it as many times as it takes, he’ll try his best to keep you safe and sound. But these are criminals he’s dealing with. People with no empathy left in them. To continue down this rotten road, your compassion must have shrunken to a nonexistent pin. Because how else can you be okay with murder, prostitution, contraband, and many other miserable, vile deeds, and still sleep fine at night?

“That’s too bad. There isn’t another way. Not while she’s here.” His face drops, and his lips tremble.

You can feel your heart shatter.

The man checks his watch. “Ah. It’s time for us to leave.” He hums. “The boss is expecting you.” He pries you from the soothing hold of your father, out of the safe confines of your home, and to a car. The door opens, and you’re led inside, him climbing in right after you.

“Head to the main building. Get there in 15 minutes. You know Mikey has little patience for things.” The car jumps to a start and takes off.

You settle for looking out the window, but his eyes stare back at you from the reflection. You sigh. “Yes?”

“Are you a virgin?”

Your shoulders jump. “What?”

He repeats himself. “Are you a virgin?” When you shake your head no, he crosses his legs, easy smile on his face. “Are you sure you wanna go on with what you’re about to get yourself into? You’ll have handfuls of buyers vouching for you once they know that you’re a first timer.”

You take a shallow breath and swallow. “There’s no other way… Besides, I'm not a virgin,” you correct him. “I’ve done it before.” Ran eyes the way your hands shake balled into fists on your lap.

“Oh, aren’t you precious? Sacrificing yourself for Daddy.” He coos, leaning closer. “Were all your previous fucks one pump chumps?” You pause, face heating up. “No…” Your brows furrow. “I’ve had two boyfriends before. I… did it with them, but it wasn’t anything special.”

“Ah, they didn’t know how to make you squirt?”

You blink. “Huh?”

He chuckles a small, “Sweet thing,” before asking, “did they even know how to make you cum at least?” You flush, and Ran mumbles, “You poor thing.”

Were you? Now that you think over your high school and college years, even junior high, you were obsessed with studying and working. You never left time for yourself, for love, or for any hookups.

“You’re a perfect little Daddy’s girl, aren’t you?” Lavender eyes shine in mirth. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you,” he finishes ominously. You shiver, voice stiff from the increasing lump in your throat. “Please refrain from using that title. It sounds inappropriate.”

He tuts, “Gotta get you used to hearing that name for when you call me it later,” curve of his lip upturned a little, voice picking up too playfully. “But for now,” he pats his lap. “Come up here.”

You eye it carefully, hesitance caught in your muscles.

“Aww, don’t look like that! I’m not gonna do anything.” He pouts, and his voice takes on a small pitiful lilt. “Just wanna see how you’d feel against Daddy.”

You shiver a second time, more strongly as he gives you these sad puppy eyes that only make you more suspicious, but he doesn’t drop the demand. So you have no choice but to accept, or you won’t know how to move forward from here.

“Good girl,” he hums. “I was right, you listen well. We’ll have a wonderful time together.” His thighs flex underneath yours, warm and lean, and with his face so close to yours, you heat up. It doesn’t help that he’s wrapped his arms around your waist, a big hand resting comfortably on your hip while his other rubs a small stroke up your spine.

His eyes glide to your lips and dart back up, they darken before yours, black pupils shining and brewing with something sultry. Ran licks his lips, and with the hand he rubbed your back, he takes ahold of your chin to bring you closer. “Wanna know if you taste as sweet.”

The moment you touch is soft before it grows heavier, same hand at your hip moving to hold the back of your head in place. His lips move sensually against yours. Slow and soft, just as the thumb rubbing your scalp. (And maybe this is how he plans to play with your tiny nub later until it’s all swollen and slick with cream). They meld against each other, slot into missing holes, fill up the gaps so all you taste and feel is Ran and the fresh crisp mint of his breath with a slight tinge of something sweet.

Soon his teeth nip and bite at your bottom lip, and you gasp out of surprise which gives him ample time for his tongue to slither through the seams. His head moves back and forth, and yours follows. It’s a little messy, saliva starts to run and pool in the center of your tongue, your breathing quickens, and Ran’s hands become daring. They skirt around your waist, rubbing at the supple flesh of your hips and stomach, up and down your back on some occasions, and inch down to your ass, where handfuls of your backside get grabbed.

You jolt out of surprise but keen at how firmly he squeezed, how hot his touch was. His hold was soft enough for your heart to beat erratically in anticipation and for your stomach to tingle. It was enough for you to melt against his body, lean in closer to him while he continued fondling your bottom.

When you finally arrived at a high end, tall building, Ran pulled back and let go of you.

Your mouth went with a pop, strand of spit following, and you licked at the numb and swollen feeling that befell your lips. Ran’s hand cupped your cheek, thumb swiping against the soft cusp of a lip, pushing into it hard that you could feel the heavy weight of his finger through the buzz of endorphins.

“Was that your first kiss too?”

When you shrink into yourself, head downturned slightly in embarrassment, he chuckles. “You’re cute. I’ll have fun with you. And Doll…you’re dripping.”

He’s right. When you look down, there’s a faint damp patch on his pants.

You don’t have time to stew in your mortification as the driver ushers you to the front entrance, where you’re immediately pushed into an elevator taking you way up high. To the top floor.

The constant worries you’ve had build up to this day slowly start to trickle in. What’s gonna happen from here? What if something bad happens while you’re discussing the specifics of your exploitation, or what if you overlook something important on the contract and end up getting screwed over?

You should expect that. This is a criminal syndicate you’re dealing with. Their crimes must be endless.

The search results of their name were mostly word of hand, but a lot of the big crimes that had mysterious events surrounding them were rumored to be them. From burnt bodies found in buildings caught on fire suspiciously - the autopsy records stating that rigor mortis was set in a way that suggested foul play. Which had locations within Bonten’s area of influence. To docks and private property owned by big corporate names that had strict security, and obviously had something hiding in those lots. The conspiracy theories were crazy too, suggesting they were involved with the group, but you wouldn’t put it above them. There’s a lot of strange activity involving these names, and the stakeout news coverings on these locations definitely showed a lot of boxes and cartridges of things being transported or stored, in large amounts.

Almost as if they were hiding something illegal. And you’re about to meet the people behind all this ominous secrecy. The police are hellbent on finding any traces of this syndicate, but they fall short each and every time.

Will you be monitored and watched over? Killed if you say anything that hinted that you knew they were Bonten?

You take a shaky breath just as the elevator dings reaching the floor, and when the doors open, there’s a man waiting. Black hair, a scar across his left eye, a milky white hue filling it.

He’s handsome in a…roguish way, a non-formal but tailored and luxurious jacket probably made with the finest of silks that shows off his fitted form hangs from his torso. Similarly, black baggy pants adorn his waist. The only thing that is formal on his body would be the dress shoes matching his pants, the gold bracelets and watch on his wrists, and the chain around his neck.

“The others left Ran to bring you, but just as I expected, he’s not here,” he sighs. “I’m sorry about him. He’s quick to get bored of things and abandon them. I’ll take you to the meeting room in his place.” The kindness from this man eases your nerves just the tiniest bit, reassures you that maybe someone in their group is kind. But he pauses. “Ah. If you’re okay with that. I’m sorry if I came off as pushy. I understand that I don’t exactly look trusting.” Oh, what a sweet person.

“No, no! You’re fine!” you reassure. “Thank you, I appreciate the kindness. This place is big, and I wouldn’t know where to go anyway.”

His lips fold over one another. “I’m sorry. That was stupid of me.” Your hands carefully move in front of you to stop him. “It wasn’t. I think that was really neat of you. You’re a kind person… Thank you. I’m happy I ran into you before the meeting.”

Your fingers twitch and fiddle one another as he leads you down the hall. The back of his neck and tips of his ears are red.

Does he feel hot?

A cough leaves his mouth that he hides behind a fist. “Happy to help.” He says softly, a little quietly, deep and soothing with a voice that sounds slightly gruff, but tinged with kindness all the same. That sounds as warm as the sun on your skin on a summer day.

You both go quietly, the thump of your shoes loud on the rugs decorating the floor. Minimal yet fancy decorations brighten up the hall, like the paintings evenly spread out on the wall, the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, small tables filled with vases and flowers, and how spotless the floors are.

You can see your reflection when you look down. Your eyes stare right back.

It’s quiet though, much too quiet, you think you heard more people on the main floor. Only your footsteps can be heard. Is there no one else on this floor? No workers?

He stops at a large set of oak double doors near the end of a hall he turned into from the previous one. It’s at the end, and this one didn’t have any other doors or openings, just one long path leading to a dead end, or rather this room.

When-

You never got his name, the man who’s escorting you currently. He offered to help you, and you never asked for his name in return. How rude, you should know better.

“Um, I’m sorry I never asked-”

He pushes open the doors before you can finish your sentence. The room is much bigger than you thought, six men are waiting on the couches and against the wall. “Kaku, about time!” The man from the car included. “And there you are.” He turns to you. “Was wondering where you went.”

Kaku steps inside first, makes his way over to him. “Ran, that’s your fault. You left her by herself in an unknown place.” Ran walks to the mini-bar and grabs a bottle of scotch, a cup grasped in the other hand. “Couldn’t help it, I had to change.”

A man who looks similar to Ran speaks up from the wall, annoyed drawl to his deep, gravelly voice. “For what?” he scoffs.

Ran’s light blue slacks have been switched out for a dark gray, and you blush. You did that. You were the cause of his absence. You were the stain on his pants.

“Is this her?” The deep, monotone, almost quiet, deathly quiet voice that speaks this holds authority. He sits against the headboard of the bed frame. You can tell right away. Know this from how Kaku, Ran, and the other men immediately straighten up. The little playful atmosphere to the room gone, it was squashed out - all that’s left is this ominous, dreadful trepidation that slithers up on all of you. You don’t even dare look up at him. You know people like that have death in their eyes, something like a glare brewing behind dark black pupils.

You’d rather keep your head.

“It is. What do you want us to do with her, Mikey?”

He doesn’t answer, but a man with long blonde hair, tattoo of an earring on the side of his temple, lazy, red bohemian outfit, sitting on one of the couches, leans forwards to grab a stack of papers from a folder on the table and waves it around. “She needs to sign this first.”

A contract.

“As Koko said.” He speaks, bringing a knee up to lay an arm on, mop of golden hair lowering.

Kaku is quick to follow his order, stretching his arm out to the couch. You look at Kaku. His eyes are hard, dull - the soft shine to them gone. He’s done being kind and generous, it’s all business now. You look to Koko next, he’s smiling, but the curve of his eyes and the turn of his lips are too mischievous.

What have you gotten yourself into? You walk over to the couch where Koko sits and plop yourself down next to him. He crosses his leg and places the papers back down. “Go ahead and read it. Your signature is needed on the last page, and a fingerprint. For security reasons.” He slides a container of red ink over. You gulp and let your eyes skim the contents quickly.

Okay. Details on what your job will entail, safety precautions, procedures, liability notices - you’ll be given insurance and health benefits. You see the terms and conditions, and what you will be responsible for compared to your employers. You finally reach the end, but just before you sign your name, pen hovering deathly close to the line provided, Koko stops you.

“Wait.” His hand grabs your wrist. “Before you’re put to work, we need to test your abilities - see if you have the guts to endure what comes your way.” His smile gets wider, eyes shrinking into slits, like a weasel’s. Pupils thinning into something you’ve seen in a cat’s. “You’ll be pleasuring each of us.”

“Koko! Don’t be shy to tell the whore she needs ‘ta fuck us.”

He lets go of your wrist, and the pen drops. You need to-

Koko turns to a man with diamond-shaped scars on the corners of his lips and pink hair who’s standing next to the bed. “Sanzu, don’t say that shit. You’re being rude.”

Sanzu crosses his arms and tilts his head. “Am I wrong?”

“Quiet, Haruchiyo.” A man with a scar running through his eye, one not damaged like Kaku’s, speaks from the couch diagonally from the one you and Koko sit on.

“Takeomi,” he grits. “That’s not how you talk to your superior, Old Man.” Takeomi looks surprised for a second before he straightens his back, scowl starting to form on his face, teeth puncturing his cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

Mikey raises a hand, and all of them turn quiet.

Sanzu uncrosses his arms and latches them behind his back, Takeomi sits humbly with his hands resting on his knees, head downturned. Koko sat up straighter, he was slouching beforehand. Kaku is at Mikey's side at once. Ran is still by the bar, he’s the only one who remotely looks at ease, then again that seems to be a personality trait of his.

There’s one man you haven’t gotten the name of, he’s at the bar, standing beside it actually. Long strands of dyed hair fall at his shoulders, two-toned in blue and purple. He has his arms crossed, seems closed off from the group. Won’t engage or join in on the conversations.

Like he’s detached from the room.

“Will you sign it, or will you leave?” He speaks softly. You can see his body turned to you, but still, you do not dare bring your head up. You gulp before looking at the contract again. What choice do you have? If you don’t sign it, your father can never pay off his debt, and he could get killed for that. You bite at the inside of your lip as you pick the pen back up, bringing the inked tip to the line and signing your name in little swirls and squiggles.

Koko takes the paper as soon as you scoot back, putting it away in the folder that he tucks by his side. “Perfect. Boss, you gonna take her now?” He looks over to Mikey, who’s settling against the bed frame again which puts him right against the ceiling high window, in fact most of the walls here are bare and open to the city below. You’re high enough that the people below you look like ants and the buildings like little monopoly pieces. The sun that’s painting the sky in a bright yellow is still high above the clouds. Your eyes swipe to the clock on the wall to the left - it’s 3:30, 30 minutes since you were picked up. Time has been too slow, it feels like two hours have passed instead.

“Hm, I think we could be done before our closing meeting, then we can clock out and get dinner.” Ran muses. Sanzu giggles, chiming in, “I want sashimi.” Ran hums. “Sashimi? I was feeling that too.”

“Look at me.” Mikey talks slowly, with charisma and authority, but you still don’t listen. Even with his permission, the most you do is turn your head back to him, so he knows your attention is on him at least. Sunlight beams off of his silver hair. Is that dyed or natural? You hear a quiet snort that makes your ears perk up.

His voice gains some emotion, you can tell with how it raises and drops. “Don’t you wanna see who’s gonna fuck you first?”

It’s a simple question, curt and blunt and unassuming, playful almost, but you get chills. His tone sounded too polite and soft, too soft for someone who’s the leader of an organized syndicate like this. Too mellow and delicate for someone who just radiates death itself. One look, and you’re a goner. You pass a boundary with him, and expect to get your heart handed to you on a silver platter. There must be something darker dwelling beneath this teasing front he put up, but you rather listen to him.

Your head darts up quickly, fear and hesitance gone, and your breath gets stolen by how dead his eyes look. They suck you in, swallow you into their endless depths, clearly showing he’s not one to be messed with, or refused.

A trance enters you as he raises a hand and beckons you forth. You follow, of course you do. But, you follow not completely out of dread and submission. Something hot burns in your stomach.

“Is it okay that Mochi’s not here?” Kaku asks.

“‘S fine. He doesn’t like shit like this anyway, and the traitor we caught needed to be minced, ‘or his body wouldn’t sink to the bottom of the ocean’ right?” Sanzu answers with an eerie chuckle.

You sober up at his words. That’s right, you can’t ever forget that they’re criminals. Contraband and smuggling might be the usual for them that all those news outlets reported on, but you cannot let slip your mind that they have killed people before. Such an infamous group wouldn’t be so notorious if they hadn't. Wouldn’t be so…intimidating if they were free of bloodshed.

Mikey’s eyes dull just a little more. As if he wasn’t scary already. “No, come here.” He deadpans, patting the empty space on the bed next to him.

You gulp and walk over, toeing off your shoes, leaving you in your socks, and climb onto the mattress. A whistle from behind echoes in the room. “You look good like that, Doll.” You ignore Ran’s leer, but that doesn’t stop the embarrassment flushing your ears. You sit on the back of your legs when you finally reach Mikey. He breathes in deep and slow before swiping his eyes down. They stay there a few seconds, you can see his pupils expand in size. You have to do this in front of them? You have to be vulnerable in front of all of these men?

You swipe your eyes around the room, there’s seven. Mikey, Kokonoi, Kakuchou, Ran, Takeomi, Sanzu, and the man with the two-toned mullet. Can you even-

“You sure you can handle that?” Ran asks. It almost feels like these types of questions come up when you start to doubt yourself and forget the reason why you went along with such a brash decision, which only strengthens your resolve.

“Yeah. Go ahead.” You speak clearly, looking over at Mikey when you say this, and something in those dead eyes of his shine. A small smile tugs at his lips, and he softly says with his breath hitched in something like awe, “Good. Take off your clothes.”

Your hands come up to unbutton your shirt the same time Mikey leans forward to pull his over his head. A slender torso meets your eye, all sharp edges and lines from how skinny he is, hollow collarbones, a ribcage, and stomach. But at the same time, hard biceps and abdominal muscles ripple, his shoulders flex. Your fingers slip off the third button down, and a hand grabs on to yours.

“You’re shaking.” Mikey murmurs, your hands trembling in his grasp. You feel bad, they’re probably sweaty. You’re heating up, your nerves are getting to you, and this situation is only making it worse. “Here, I’ll do it.” His hands carefully slide the button you missed off from its hole. He does the same with the ones lower down until your shirt is completely unbuttoned, leaving your bra and pants.

He slides the sleeves off of you and looks down at your pants. “You don’t need me to help you with that, right?” You hastily shake your head and stand on your knees to slide your pants off, sitting back down to get it past your calves.

Mikey still has his pants on when you look over, eyes staring down at your legs again.

“It’s damp.”

“W- what?”

They dart back up to your face, pupils just as dark as they were in the beginning, if not more. “There’s a wet patch on your underwear.” He says slowly in a drone, with a quietness that almost makes you think he’s not affected by this, by you. Until his hands land on your thigh, gripping it, thumb rubbing a small circle. Almost like he was testing the feel of your skin. It trails further up your leg.

Your eyes catch onto the bulge sporting his trousers, and your mouth falters. It’s big.

“Oh, w- well, this- this is…”

“She got it from me, Boss.” Ran interjects. Mikey turns his head to him. “Gave her a little kiss in the car,” he smiles wider. “And it was her first one.” A small gasp leaves your lips, and your hands come up to hide your face. God, how humiliating.

“Okay, that’s enough. Stop teasing her.” Mikey’s voice bellows deep and heavy in the room. He grabs for your panties and pulls them down. “Hmm, you’re wet already.” Your hole pulses as his fingers ghost along your slit. “You don’t need foreplay then. It’s enough for me to slide in.”

How degrading. You’re about to lose your virginity to a stranger, you kissed another one earlier, and you got wet because of it. You’ve always thought you’d do something this intimate with someone you trust and love, but here you are.

Your heart races as you hear him unbuckle his pants. They slide down along with his boxers. A thick, veiny cock springs out, and you nearly gasp. He lines it up to your entrance, head of his cock getting wet as he slides-

“Wait! Sir, wait!” You push your hands against his stomach. It ripples at the touch the same time his dick twitches after you call him the title. He likes that. Your mind blanks as his eyes reach yours, nothing in them changed, no warmth or intimacy - compassion. But he did stop his hips.

There’s a small groan behind you that almost sounds like a wince, like a whimper in pain, like a plea for something. “You sure know what you’re doin’, Doll.” And another one. “Fuck. Need to make her call me that too.”

You finally find your voice again. “You’re- you’re…not going to wear a..condom?” Ran and Koko laugh behind you. “She’s cute, isn’t she?”

Mikey blinks twice. “How will I know how good your cunt is if I have to wrap my dick in plastic?” You gape. “Oh. We- well…that makes sense.”

He guides you to your back, spreads your legs apart. “Don’t worry, it’s your first time. I’ll make it a good one.” His hand wraps around himself, and he rubs the tip up your puffy lips, starting from your entrance again. It nudges against your clit from its rise, and you twitch, breathy, small moan leaving your lips. “See? You felt that. You’ll be fine.” He brings his cock back down to your hole and slides in.

The stretch you feel is immediate, so you clench down force of habit. His hips stutter, and he groans, “Ah, so fuckin’ tight.” Ramming a few centimeters deeper out of greed. Pain shoots up your spine, and you bat at his back. “Wait! wait, wait, wa-it!”

He leans back and swipes a finger across your clit. That’s enough to make your walls flutter.

“That’s it. Loosen up for me.” His voice comes out quiet, soft encouragements laced in his tone, and heat ensnares your sex. You hiccup, body tensing, legs locking up, hips bucking, stomach tightening. Feet that were placed beside his hips wrap around his waist, and you squeeze out of instinct. Mikey gasps, falling forward, pelvis pressed close to yours, hands dropping beside your head. A shaky breath leaves him, and he rolls his hips, your clit grinding against his stomach, dick short of kissing your cervix, tip brushing against that one spot. Fire licks at your loins. Your spine tingles, and your walls flutter as white hot pleasure explodes, your eyes clamp shut, brows knitting together.

“Oh, fuck.” Mikey pulls back and pushes back in, then does it again, and again, hips tilted up, helping you ride out your high. He stops when he feels the fluttering of your walls cease, but your pussy still pulses in the after-effects of your orgasm. His hips roll once against his better will, you squeak at the added stimulation. Still sensitive.

Heaving as you try to recover, Mikey lifts your legs and presses them to your chest, which only dwindles your lung capacity. “What was it you called me earlier?”

You gulp, mouth opening slightly. “S- ….sir.”

There’s a few groans around you that make your cheeks flush. Mikey leans towards your ear, and you feel his breath fan your neck. “Better.”

You shiver, ears starting to heat up from the small word, and the soft, soft way he said it. So quietly, like he only wanted you to hear it. Like he wanted you to ignore the others in the room, to not mind them, and to focus on him. (Because that’s all that really mattered in this moment, right? The fact that you’re his right now).

He straightens up, knees next to your hips before bending down. Effectively smushing you beneath him. The compression makes your hole squeeze him tighter, and he grunts, hips jumping up and grinding against you, pelvis rubbing against your sensitive clit. All that does is tighten the band in your stomach. You end up squealing, “Sir!” as his hips keep rolling, and pretty soon you’re tipping over, eyes closing as they explode in white. Tummy turning taut, folds fluttering, you cum a second time, Mikey following behind you, dick twitching his release. His hips piston into you in the meanwhile, and even after he’s done cumming, they slowly rock. You can hear the filthy squelch of your juices, can feel his spent drip from you. After all, your pussy still flutters around his length, walls gummy with warm cum.

A sultry moan falls from his lips, and he mumbles, “Fuck, haven’t cum that much in months.” His hips grind in tiny, tiny figure 8’s lazily as his breathing starts to slow down. He finally pulls out when his dick softens but not completely. His shaft is caked in a creamy sheen.

As soon as it’s out, a small trail of cum dribbles from you. You try closing your legs out of embarrassment, but Mikey holds them open. “Keep ‘em there.” He says softly. “I wanna see this,” and he takes a hand to your clit, thumb rubbing the puffy bud. Your hole clenches, slick oozing around the nub like syrup as he rubs it, and continues doing so. “You’ve got a pretty cunt, Angel.”

“Holy shit.”

“Oh fuck.”

“Pussy’s a pretty pink too.”

All of a sudden the lot of them come around. Kokonoi and Ran stand behind Mikey, looking over his shoulder. Sanzu is at the edge of the bed, on his knees so he’s face-close to your cunt, shamelessly ogling the pool of slick coating Mikey’s shaft in a glossy sheen as it runs down your thighs and sticks to your ass in translucent strings. Rindou and Takeomi were on the couch, Takeomi still in the same position he was in before, Rindou leaning back with his legs spread and his arms crossed, sporting a bored glare. But they perk up when they hear your whines and pleads asking for Mikey to stop. (He doesn’t).

They come over too, standing beside Koko and Ran. Kakuchou stands off to the side of a wall, hands clenched so tightly behind his back that you can see the strain of his muscles against his suit jacket. The veins in his neck bulging.

Mikey turns his head to him. “Kaku, come here.” That makes him flinch, but he doesn’t move.

Mikey sighs, voice reaching an octave deeper, a volume softer. “Kakuchou. I wasn’t asking.” And Kakuchou resigns, dropping his hands beside him. He walks over to join the rest.

They all swarm around you as they watch Mikey’s cum drip from your slit like molasses. You keep your legs open, refrain yourself the urge of closing them. You’re scared to defy Mikey. As if he wants to tease you further, his thumb and forefinger close over your clit, and you squeal.

“Ah, fuck. She’s squirtin’ again.” Eyes rolling back, tongue lolling out, pussy fluttering, pulsing as a small, small stream of transparent liquid shoots from your slit. Mikey’s fingers only seem to get harsher, and desperate squeaks and pants leave you. “Mikey, Mikey! Please-”

He clicks his tongue. “That’s not what you call me.” A sob wracks your chest. “Sir! Sir, please I’m-”

He hums. “Still wrong.” Leaning down to your face, pitch black eyes stare into you. “Whose are you?”

Your breath catches in your throat, and fear immediately grabs hold of you as you stare back at yourself in picture-clear clarity. Your mouth trembles, chin shaking as you consider your words. You signed a contract. You’re theirs now. “Yours,” you softly murmur. “I’m yours… Master.”

Mikey’s fingers stop pinching, and something alights his eyes, edge of his lips twitching. “Good girl,” he mumbles, lips catching your forehead. “That’s the one, Angel.” But his fingers tilt your clit up and out of its hood, and you start shaking again.

A hand grabs onto his wrist. “Mikey, she’s gonna break before we get a turn with her,” Ran says. Mikey takes a moment to look down at you a bit more. Then he pulls away. “Alright. It’s Sanzu’s turn next.”

“But why him?” The man you never got the name of lazily drawls.

“Yeah. I should be the one to go next. I picked the pretty little thing up.”

“No, Sanzu gets her next as number 2. Then, Kaku.” He twists his head and looks at Ran, the man who spoke previously, Takeomi. “Takeomi, Ran, Rindou - the three of you can decide who goes first. And finally, Kokonoi will have her last.”

Ran groans, Rindou sighs, and Takeomi blows a puff of smoke. Kokonoi pulls away from the group to take a seat on the couch, spreading his legs and leaning back. “The view till my turn isn’t half bad either.” You flush harder.

They slowly start to move away, one by one. Ran and Takeomi sit on the lounge chairs by the mini-bar, Rindou sits on the other side of the couch Kokonoi sits on, Kakuchou moves back to the wall he was at before, but Mikey stops him. “Stay here.”

“…Mikey-“

You can’t see his face, his back is turned to you, but you can see Kakuchou’s face. And he looks frightened. He turns pale within seconds, and he swallows his words, staying put at the foot of the bed. You slightly wonder what Mikey’s face must look like right now before thinking better of it - because why would you wonder about that when you know there’s underlying threats hidden behind his words? Why wonder about that when you’ve already felt it? What if it was you he was facing?

You shiver at the thought.

Sanzu takes Mikey’s spot. A knee digs into the bed, right beside your hip. His other knee takes the missing space next to you, and for a moment you look up at him. Back straightened and shoulders set, hovering over you. It’s scary how bright his eyes truly are. They shine as luminescently as you’ve seen water do when sunlight reflects off of it, and they’re as clear as the sea itself, but you can see something deeper brewing beneath.

He sits back slightly, not too hard that your legs suffer his full weight. Just enough to pin you beneath him, and he spreads your legs a little wider, thumbs hooking onto your puffy lips, which he also spreads. The squelch in response is obscene. He breathes heavily in awe as more cum leaks from your slit. “What should I do about this?”

Mikey responds with a cool voice, “You can fuck her with my cum still inside.” And Sanzu shivers, even you do at his cold authority. His pants are off within seconds, and he aligns the head to your entrance, but before he slips in, he takes a look at you, trailing his eyes away from your pussy. They darken again, grow sharper.

The slide in is another painful stretch. “Oh shit.” Sanzu’s hips stutter, dick twitching once, and you wonder if it really feels that good for him if he doesn’t like you very much. You watch him with bleary eyes as he stares entranced at your pussy, Mikey’s cum frothing around his shaft, bubbling out when he resumes his hips and bottoms out. He shivers when that makes a fat droplet of cum drip down your thighs.

But then again, he seems to like Mikey.

“What is it, Whore?” he spits out. You don’t realize that you’ve been staring at him until he’s staring right back. You flinch at his harsh tone and cold eyes, and look away, demurely responding with a small “nothing.”

He clicks his tongue. The disapproving sound makes your heart lurch, you don’t think you’ve ever been shown such hostility before. Especially towards you, you were perfect in school and at home. Nothing warranted feelings of displeasure from you, and you were always such a mediator and a people pleaser, which got you exactly in this position now. This man scares you. His eyes are wild and his brash demeanor makes your skin prickle. He’s someone you have never experienced before. The delinquents and loan sharks you’ve come across pale in comparison.

Taking a big hand, he grabs a fistful of your hair and tugs, pulling his cock out before thrusting it back in. Your stomach turns, your head is reeling, and a small wince leaves your lips at the rough pull. Rapidly, you take deep breaths that you hope eases the flush on your face and the burn of your scalp, but sadly, you don’t feel a thing. Tears slowly dot your water line when you hear Sanzu laugh giddily, and he turns you around on your stomach, lifting your hips until you hold yourself up on your knees. His hand shoots for your nape before you can turn your head.

Faced with the bedsheets, you take slow breaths to calm your erratic heart, but he pushes you down, and that goes out the window. Applying a tiny bit of pressure that’s already fogging your head and making it pound more, he mutters darkly, “Fuckin’ slut, look at you, you like this.” Only then do you realize how hot your pussy feels, how urgently you’re squeezing your thighs together and Sanzu’s cock all at once. How you’re throbbing and aching on the inside, and the dripping mess between your thighs.

Your stomach burns, walls throbbing harder at the realization, even though you’re trying to will your arousal away, but Sanzu doesn’t give you that chance as he takes his other hand to pool your wrists together, holding them behind your back that naturally makes you arch, especially since he’s scooting closer, making your hips lift higher. This ends up causing your face to dig into the bed, using your shoulders as support is no longer an option, and even then, Sanzu’s grip on your neck is solid - he’s not letting you go.

You can barely breathe at this angle, your face feels hot basked in the heat of your panicked exhales. Sanzu leans down, dick inching closer to your cervix, and whispers in your ear, “I hate sluts like you.” He starts. “You’re so insistent on showing how fragile and pure you are.” He leans his hips back and thrusts forwards. The bed dips strongly and your breathing falters for a second. “When really, all you want is to be fucked like an animal.” He does it again. “I hate cowards who can’t say what they want.” Then he’s back to fully standing on his knees, pelvis glued to yours.

His dick rests heavy in your cunt, you feel him in your guts, but this all means nothing to him as he starts a steady pace roughly fucking you, making sure to angle his hips in a way that brushes against your gspot.

It’s not hard for you to cum within a few strokes. Your stomach explodes, vision turning white, walls fluttering as your orgasm rushes through you. Sanzu pistons into you as he follows, riding out his high. In the aftershocks of your pleasure, you hear Mikey faintly hum, “No, keep going. You didn’t make her squirt.”

Body stiffening, you turn your head once Sanzu’s grip loosened around both your neck and wrists to see Mikey on the couch closest to the bed watching you both. He’s in a suit, he wasn’t in one before, and something about the formal change of attire makes you feel ashamed. You’re completely naked among a room full of men in suits. Even Sanzu isn’t stripped, his pants fall at his knees.

“Got it,” Sanzu responds monotonously, all forms of his earlier taunting gone. He leans down until he’s flush at your back - the ease of his hands, one now on your hip while the other hovers over your sex, makes you able to support yourself on your shoulders again. But it’s during this that you realize you’re wheezing for dear life. Sanzu is perfectly fine, hasn’t broken a sweat either as he starts thrusting again.

The hand flicks up, smacking your clit as you wail, body fluttering and twitching. Oh, you couldn’t take anymore. You truly could not. Mikey has worn you out. Groggily, you try pleading that to Sanzu. “Please… I-”

A hand comes down on your cunt again, and your hips buck. Sanzu, irritated, snarls, “Shut up. I’ll do what I want.” And he moves his hands down again. You brace for it thinking it was another slap, your own grabbing for his wrist, but you’re sorely mistaken when a pair of fingers pinch you.

As if that wasn’t enough, he twirls the poor nub in his hold, the muscles in his forearm flexing and rippling, and you lose it. Your hearing goes blurry as you cum again, toes curling, body trembling as transparent liquid pours from your cunt and drenches Sanzu’s thighs. Hips stuttering, you feel his length twitch one, twice, thrice before he paints your walls white, and even after it’s all done with, he grinds into your ass, head tucked between your neck and shoulder where it fell earlier when you came. His breath fans over your neck, and his body feels hot and heavy on you.

When you try raising your hips off of him, he grunts and wraps a forearm around your lower stomach. You can feel his glare on you, hear his teeth grind the slightest bit before you feel it taken away.

“Hey! Ow!”

Sluggishly turning your head, you’re met with the sight of Kakuchou grasping Sanzu’s arm and a smiling Ran tugging at his hair to get him to back up. His dick leaves your pussy with an obscene pop, and you bristle because you can feel cum dribble out of your hole. It drips onto the bed sheets below where you know that Mikey and your release still sits.

He hisses and cusses at Ran, but you don’t pay attention to them, pushing their bickering to the back of your mind. You wrinkle your nose and close your legs, turning your head back to bury inside the pillow, reconsidering yourself. You’ve lost your virginity. Two men have already been between your legs, and you’ve cum a handful of times already… It’s a little scary of you to be enjoying this.

Your sorrow is cut short when you see Kakuchou appear in your line of vision, tiny, sympathetic smile on his face. He raises a towel grasped in his hand, and your shoulders relax. Breathing a deep sigh, you turn on your back as he sits on the bed, hands softly resting on your knees, gripping it gently. Your legs part for him, and equally as gentle, he dabs and rubs away the mess, you squirm when he gets to your inner thighs and twitch when he runs the rag over your slit a few times, but you take it.

“…I’m sorry they were rough.” He stops dabbing, and you take a glance at the towel to see lots of cum sticking to the poor rag. The sight doesn’t settle easily on your stomach.

You sigh, “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.” It really isn’t. He doesn’t have much power over Mikey and Sanzu, who’s cleaned himself up, walking out of a bathroom with a towel in hand - you never saw that when you walked in. He takes a seat comfortably next to Mikey crossing his arms as he joins him in watching you.

Gulping, you redirect your eyes back to Kakuchou who’s already looking at you with hesitation clear as day on his face, a clenched jaw, and pursed lips. You can see the gears in his head turning. Briefly, as you stare at him, at how he’s so careful even in his considerations - you think you could trust him with your life.

And that’s exactly what you do.

Bringing a leg over his lap, you sink down, grinding yourself against his clothed crotch. His hands dart out to your hips, steadying your already woozy balance with an even steadier grip. His eyes never leave your face, neither do yours. He asks slowly, cautiously, carefully, “Are you sure?”

When you nod yes, he slowly peels down his pants, tugging his boxers along the way until you can feel the thick and very tall length of him rubbing against your backside. Beads of sweat form at the hairline on your forehead, same as the droplets of precum beading at Kaku’s tip. It breaks off, running down his shaft like a trail of water. You feel it wet the cusp of your ass, and it twitches when you push your butt out.

Standing on your knees, you align his cock with your hole, Kakuchou’s head twitching again before you lower yourself. There’s a squelch that rings between you two, and the drag of his shaft to your walls makes you shiver because he’s bigger in every sense of the word compared to the two before him. He twitches another time when you pulse, his hips and legs doing the same, cock head more than brushing against your sweet spot when you bottom out. You couldn’t have done anything else, but slump down.

“Ah, shit, she’s doin’ it again.”

“Isn’t that her 4th time cummin’ too?”

Kakuchou’s face scrunches, and he shivers. “Eas- ease up,” he stutters. “You’re too tight.” Your walls pulse at his words.

Kokonoi laughs behind him. “Of course she is, she was a virgin before.”

Pausing his motions, you continue creaming on his shaft until the haze of your climax is gone, but this doesn’t mean Kakuchou came. His dick twitches more than once inside you, reminding you that he still has to cum before you can move onto the next man, and the next, and the next. You nearly sob at the realization, wondering if accepting Ran’s offer all those weeks ago during that phone call was a mistake.

What stops you from this spiral is a gentle hand cupping the back of your head, two strong arms hugging your waist, and a soothing voice in your ear. “I’ll be gentle.” Kakuchou murmurs softly, and your arms wrap around his shoulders out of instinct for comfort. You bury your head in his neck, and he bounces his legs a few times. It doesn’t serve the purpose you think he was going for, all it does is grind you on his pelvis. You wince, and he groans, stopping immediately to say, “Sorry… I think ‘m gonna cum soon.”

“Look at them! Aren’t they cute?” Kokonoi exclaims. “Kaku, you’ve always been too soft on the girls you bought.”

He grumbles, brushing Kokonoi’s words off and starting a slow pace of lifting you off his cock before slamming down. Which eventually gets rougher and faster. “Kakuchou! Kakuchou, please,” you whine, head craning down, body twitching and on fire as he bounces you. Thick cock head repeatedly ramming against your abused gspot. Pelvis pressed so tightly to his that your engorged, oversensitive clit grinds against the planes of his stomach.

You think you’re going to die at this rate.

He shivers, head falling back, hands gripped so tight over your hips. You wouldn’t be surprised if crescent shaped nail marks dented your skin. Panting, he says, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. But you feel so good when I do it like this.” And his hips start lifting to follow after yours, not wanting to be separated from the plush squeeze of your gummy walls for a second longer.

A few more strokes of this, and you’re both cumming. Kakuchou’s cock spurts its release, your pussy doing the same. He cradles you in his arms for a moment more before pulling out when his dick starts filling out again.

The sun turns golden, starting to dip below the horizon when it finally gets to Rindou’s turn. By that time, you’re shaking and babbling, “wait wait wait, ‘m- I need time. Gimme some time, please. I- I need a moment.”

Rindou grins, the first time you’ve seen that mouth lift up from the straight line it was permanently in. “Poor thing,” he says slowly, in a drawl almost. He’s got a lazy way of speaking, which is surprising for a man who looks so sharp and quick-witted. “But I’ve been wondering what this sweet cunt feels like,” and he plugs 3 fingers inside, waving them around as they nudge against your walls, prodding too close to your sweet spot that only overstimulates your already frazzled nerves.

And you cum again. Trickles of juice gush from your slit, and Rindou keeps going. Thick fingers, to the knuckle, rings on his ring and index finger stretch you out, makes the cold metal touch your overheating pussy. Slick and cum runs down your thighs messily, and squeaky gasps tumble from your mouth.

Rindou cups his palm around your sex and sighs. “Who’s going first, Ran? Ah wait,” he turns to Takeomi, “You don’t mind if we go first, right?” The older man shakes his head and goes back to smoking. Your pussy pulses obscenely having Rindou’s hand wrapped around your heat, wrapped around where your sticky release lays.

“What kind of brother would I be if I didn’t let my little brother have you first?” You don’t know where he is, but you hear Ran’s voice close. You guess he’s behind you, since you’re currently occupied with Rindou, who’s grinding his palm against your sex.

You twitch, hips bucking, and wince trying to squirm away, but he pulls that hand off of you soon to pin your wrists in one fell swoop, kneeling atop you, mounting your pelvis. The wrist he grabbed with the hand that was previously in your cunt is all sticky with your release, but he transfers it so he’s holding both wrists in one hand, bringing the other one down to your heat. The same way that Sanzu-

You jolt up, only a few centimeters since he’s still mounting you, before falling back down because it’s useless, he’s raising his hand. So you brace for it, just like you did Sanzu’s. But a pinch around your clit surprises you and tips you over the edge again.

“You’re finally crying.” Rindou drawls, watching your little cunt quiver and twitch. “All those times you were whining, not a single tear dropped from you.” Your head is pounding. Sanzu’s tug at your hair turned into a dull throb once Kakuchou’s turn hit, but Rindou’s bringing it back, and only then do you realize the tears staining your otherwise dry cheeks. He’s right. Hazily, you remember tears forming, but never breaking. He looks into your eyes, and a small, small smile slowly tugs at the corners of his lips, but his eyes are still so dull.

Pulling his pants down, his cock springs out within the next second, a fat and hefty thing it is. It’s lacking the height, but it might be on par with Kakuchou in terms of girth. Something about that tidbit of information makes you faint of heart, makes you shy as you grip his slacks just above his knee.

Rindou notices and looks down before looking back up, nothing has changed from his expression. He looks just as aloof as before.

You’re right about the girth, it’s a stretch when he sinks inside. It’s almost mind numbing how his shaft stretches out your walls. Rindou murmurs a small “fuck” beneath his breath once he bottoms out, and as soon as he does, he’s quick in setting a ruthless pace that feels good for him, but for you? It feels semi-good, the sting of his width borders on pleasure as he grinds against your sweet spot nicely.

A slender but firm body steps in behind you.

“He’s rough, isn’t he?” Ran’s fingers smooth over the fat of your pussy lips where Kakuchou’s cum leaks incessantly, frothing around Rindou’s shaft in rings of white. He leans closer to your ear. “Want me to make it better for you?” And he kisses the tip, right where you burn from embarrassment. “A pretty girl like you should be treated nicely.”

But you feel a tug at your hair that only makes your head pound harder and a pinch at your clit that makes you whimper. When you dart your eyes to the front, Rindou is there. Furious. “Pay attention to me. I’m the one that’s fucking you.” Ran chuckles lowly behind you. “Ah, maybe I should’ve warned you about that. My little brother doesn’t like being ignored, and he’s got a nasty temper to match.”

“Shut up.” Rindou grits, but he makes no move to stop him or push him back. He’s content with letting the older man in on his turn. (The Haitani brothers love to overstimulate, and they’re never one to keep their hands off their toy).

You flush at the realization, Ran pressing closer and Rindou thrusting back in. The former turns your head to lean in as his hands move to fondle your breasts, flicking and twirling at the hardened nubs, tongue twirling around in your mouth. The latter continues his brutal pace, fingers continuing their ministrations on your clit.

Within a few more strokes you’re cumming - for a sixth? Was it sixth? Time. The cock nestled inside you spurts its load.

But your agony doesn’t end there because as soon as Rindou’s done cumming, Ran pushes you down on your stomach into the empty space Rindou left, and slides inside your gummy walls, groaning and moaning about how warm and tight you are. You didn’t get to see what his…endowments consisted of, so you’re going into his turn blind, but when he bottoms out close to where Kakuchou’s reach was, you gain a clue.

Ran is tall. He’s one of the tallest of the men, but at the same time, he’s very slim. His dick represents that perfectly. He has Kakuchou’s reach, he’s just missing his girth. However, when he lifts your hips, propping your backside right at his pelvis, and thrusts back in, his reach inches even farther than what Kakuchou achieved. To the point that you feel him in your throat.

In the face of such madness, of course you would cum shortly after. You were never given a break after Rindou either, you couldn't have staved off your next orgasm any longer. As you come down from your high, Ran leans down to whisper, “Think you can go one more? Think you can do that for Daddy?”

Shaking your head sluggishly, you hope he understands you, but he kisses the back of your forehead, right where the dull ache is rooted, and stands back up on his knees and starts again. Trying to bear the weight of his thrusts, you wonder if your denial was mistaken, but you could have sworn you shook your head accurately in a way that could not have been misconstrued.

“Fuck, might have to change my pants again. You’re making a mess everywhere, Princess.” Soon, Ran is pulling out. The mess of the last three turns bare on you as it all trickles out of your quivering sex. When you think about it, all of the men before you changed their clothes, after you checked once they had their turn. But you forgot to do that for Rindou and Kakuchou, so you bring your eyes to them, and sure enough, Rindou’s pants have changed. Kakuchou’s in a different set of clothes, but they’re still formal.

Your face heats up even faster. Ran is right.

A pat on your head that eventually turns rough towards the end, close to burying your head in the pillow - he laid his hand where Sanzu’s damage still hurts you, in the same place that he just kissed. “Don’t worry, Darling! You were good. A pretty, tight, good, very good hole,” Ran coos. He leaves you then, and the older man smoking makes his appearance.

Takeomi’s strokes are good. He knows how to angle his hips in a way that hits directly at your gspot. Doesn’t focus on your puffy clit like the others did. You wouldn’t be surprised if it already chafed, rubbed raw and sensitive. No. He focuses on that pleasure that comes deep within, the kind that makes white spot at your vision, and your toes curl. That has your hips jerking forward agonizingly in a sweet balance of pain and pleasure, tiny squeaking gasps leaving your mouth from the sheer pressure that’s building in your stomach. The same kind you feel when you’re about to pee.

It makes you shiver before you explode, body convulsing while your hole twitches repeatedly, rivulets of clear liquid squirting from you. Eyes rolled back until only a sliver of your irises are left, you can’t even hold yourself upright anymore, head falling onto his shoulder.

Takeomi is cruel, his large hands squeeze your trembling thighs and keep them spread open for the others to see, slender hips that won’t stop the onslaught of sharp, ruthless thrusts up into your cervix. Your ears ring, and you can’t count the amount of times you’ve shook or shivered, how many times your hole twitched, squeezing onto Takeomi’s cock, or what the others are saying as they all exclaim, “Fuuuuuck.” You can’t even count past one orgasm since his turn.

You’re sobbing when your pussy stops its vice grip on his shaft, fluttering softly from post-orgasm tickles. Drool and saliva wets your face, runs down your chin, and splatters all over his shoulder and arm when you sob, “S- stop. Please, I… i can’t.”

It’s on a particular thrust that your spongy walls get brushed, and you hiccup, body jumping and freezing up as you clamp on him that only makes him groan and stutter his hips, cock throbbing as he fills you with his seed. You keen, your own hips jerking forwards to follow him, stomach tightening as you explode, but nothing comes out.

By the time he’s done cumming and your dry orgasm rushes past you, your head is laying on his shoulder, body shaking the tiniest bit as you heave open-mouthed, catching your breath. The ceiling looks white. You don’t remember it being that white, and the others sound like they’re talking in gibberish. Your body feels light, like you’re not even there, like your own consciousness isn’t weighing you down. You feel a tug and a pull, and all of a sudden, you’re being lifted from his arms and into another.

There’s black eyes on you, pupils so small and slit-eyed, you think you’re looking into a cat’s. Long blonde hair casts a curtain over you and this face, it shields you from the light. You think you’re slowly starting to come to.

“You okay?” That sentence you heard perfectly clear and with clarity.

“Y- …yeah.”

Kokonoi lays your body back on the bed, gently. When you try to shoot up, he stops you, pushing you back down. “Lay back, Darling. You’ve done enough.” He aligns his cock head and slips in. You think he’s about average length. He doesn’t feel too fat or tall. Nothing too extreme of what you’ve already experienced, and as he’s moving farther inside, you think proudly - last one.

“Ah shit.” Kokonoi curses when he bottoms out, head lolling to the side as his hips stutter and his hands take the brunt of his weight beside your head. “Shit, she-” he swallows. “‘S all warm ‘n mushy.” He grinds his hips, tilting up, and his cock brushes against your poor, sensitive gspot. You couldn’t possibly handle any more stimulation to it, so you almost lose it when your stomach turns taut - the fire licking at your loins explodes.

Your vision turns white for a second as your body locks up before blacking out.

—

“Oh fuck.” Kokonoi’s hips piston into yours when he feels you pulse sporadically on him.

“Fuck, she doin’ that? Squirtin’ just by you bottomin’ out, Koko?” Ran says with a hitched voice along the couch. “Shit, think she actually passed out.”

“Not surprised. We all fucked her.” Takeomi says with a puff of smoke leaving his lips.

“Koko, do that again.” Ran walks up to you. “Pull your dick out and shove it back inside her again.” Kokonoi does as he’s told, and when he’s inside again, tip brushing your sweet spot, a squelch resounds and a squish of cum leaves you.

Ran’s jaw drops, and his fingers twitch beside him. “Holy fucking shit, it’s true.” His eyes roam all over your messy pussy. “And look at this pretty girl.” He taps your engorged clit, which makes you cum again, unconscious. “All swollen. Can’t hide from us anymore.” He chuckles darkly.

Kokonoi strokes a few more times before he cums, painting your walls white and then some. Hips grinding and swiveling into yours to milk each drop. “Fuck. Why don’t we do that more often?” Kokonoi breathes as he pulls out. Your cunt clenches and squishes more cum out with the drag of his cock over your walls.

“Cuz a girl hasn’t gotten us all excited to fuck her like this before.” Takeomi responds.

“You’re right. A girl hasn’t done this to us before.” Mikey walks up to you, stares right into your face, all stretched from your shock, lids leaving a small sliver of white at the bottom. “Let’s make her our personal call girl.”

A beat of silence passes.

“…Mikey, are you sure? She’s out of it right now.” Mikey runs a hand down your thigh and rubs a circle at your knee. The sensual touch shoots straight to your cunt as you shiver, more cum oozing from your slit even in your unconscious. “We can wait till she comes back then.” He grips your knee. “Don’t want anyone else having her. Didn’t you enjoy your time today?”

The room turns silent again, no one says anything in denial.

The next few hours pass in relative ease as Sanzu, Ran, Kokonoi, Rindou, and Takeomi leave the room, the latter going off to who knows where, and the other four to meet the missing man at a club. When you wake up, Kakuchou and Mikey wait on you. You’re met with a new contract with even more rules, no option of escape or refusal in sight.

And you ask yourself one final time: was it really a good thing you called Ran for another option back then? Because you cannot find it in yourself to feel happy about where this is heading.

But you don’t stop yourself when you sign the papers.

#oooh #faves #nsft

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sleepykoko · 2 years

Text

All Must Descend

prince bakugou x f!reader

summary - you pass an eventful night in the dungeon as bakugou reckons with what your appearance means for stability at court. sir kirishima shows his hand.

cws - game of thrones au, same tone as the show. murder, violence, political intrigue, smut, magic, old gods, new gods, choking, true love, lore, allusions to torture, prophecy, reader has brown eyes. dom!bakugou. sub!reader.

chapter 1 | chapter 2 - updates on fridays

please have an age in your bio and be 18+ before interacting with this fic. reblogs/comments appreciated, and encouraged.

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Prince Bakugou kicks the dusty path in the garden, frowning so hard that deep caverns are forged in his brow, when Kirishima finds him.

“That bad?” He asks quietly.

“I don’t even recognize her.” Bakugou says in a low growl. “She says it won’t rain until we have the churches blessing, and we can’t get gods grace without Amathar’s heir, without her true power my power is fuckin’ useless apparently.” Kirishima nods. “She just repeats it over and over again, Gods Grace,” he mutters, “It’s every fuckin’ word out of her mouth. Maybe my whole family’s crazy, maybe the stories are true, that every leader who sits on the throne of Yuuei is destined for goddamn madness.”

He kicks the gravel path again, the dust gathering at the bottom of his more court appropriate clothing, simple for a prince, but still obviously made of the finest materials, a pair of dark brown trousers, a loose white shirt and leather boots. There's a ceremonial jeweled sword at his hip that he doesn’t take his hand off of while he paces.

“You aren’t.” Kirishima says fiercely. “I’d stake my life on it. And your power is more than enough, you’re unmatched on the battlefield, even when you’re not wielding holy fire.” Bakugou shrugs off the praise, not meeting his friend’s eyes.

“What does it say that I don’t want to walk around my own fuckin’ castle without bein’ armed,” he looks up at the sky, dappled with diamond twinkling stars. Kirishima sighs.

“Court’s dangerous, right now, but not for you, Bakugou-”

“I’m not worried about me,” he says, pain creeping into his voice like ivy up a wall, “I’m worried about you, about the people I love, and the people,” he gestures to the city, “The people out there. They’re starvin’ and the only thing I can get the Queen to say about it is that when we find Amathar’s bastard things will get better.” Bakugou spits on the ground. “And now I gotta face that girl, from today. My men killed her family. What the fuck am I supposed to say to her about that?”

“All you can do is tell the truth.” Kirishima reaches out and touches his friend's upper arm. “All you can do is tell her you’re sorry, which you are, and that you’ll do what you can for her.”

“How is she?” Bakugou asks and Kirishima thinks again of the sound of your aching dry sobs, bouncing off the walls of the dungeon.

“Afraid.” Kirishima says quietly. “She’s terrified.”

“My mother wants to meet her.” Bakugou says very quietly. “I convinced her to wait until we’d conducted the ritual to see if she’s a descendent of Nahelenia.”

“I talked to her,” Kirishima says, “I don’t think she’s a spy, or anything at all even. She was probably just lashing out at us because she’s afraid.” Bakugou nods, a hand coming to rest over his heart.

“I can still feel the way she was holdin’ onto me as we rode into the city. I can’t,” He presses his lips together, “I can’t, I don’t know what to say to her. Of course she fuckin’ hates me, but I, I feel like I owe it to her to make sure she lives through this.” He looks out across the moonlight garden, white flowers practically growing in the blue light.

“Well, you do.” Kirishima shrugs. “She’s just not making it easy. I’ll take her down to see what might await her, if she doesn’t behave, and that’ll help. But you could always try being,” Kirishima searches for the right words. “Being kind, to her.” Bakugou groans.

“I can’t accommodate her mouth,” He shakes his head, “Or it’ll get her killed. I gotta break her for her own safety.”

“Well and,” Kirishima grins, “As far as problems go, at least she’s one with a pretty face huh?”

“Don’t wanna hear shit about it,” Bakugou starts and Kirishima flashes his palms.

“I’m just saying, maybe once she understands her place here, she’ll be able to show you a little gratitude-” Bakugou swats at his friend. “Bakugou, forgive me, but I’ve never seen a woman ride on your horse.”

“I’m not talkin’ about her.” Bakugou snaps. “I didn’t want her holdin’ your sorry ass at knifepoint again, speakin’ of, if you think we’re not gonna talk about how some peasant girl got the drop on you you’re out of your goddamn mind.” Kirishima blushes.

“I,” he thinks about it, “No there’s not way around it I uh, I underestimated them. None of the women have ever resisted us before. I wonder where she learned to fight.” He pauses, surveying the gardens, attempting to change the subject. “It’s so green here in the palace , it’s easy to forget the troubles of the outside.” Bakugou nods, then an a cloud crosses his face.

“None of the guards touched her?” He asks, and Kirishima nods, teasing smile back on his face.

“She’s not a virgin though, said she’s a widow. Not that you’ve ever shown a preference for virgins, as long as a woman is well behaved.” Bakugou spins on his heels, eyes ablaze with anger and Kirishima flashes his palms, “My king.”

“Yeah that’s right,” The prince snaps, “Remember your goddamn place just in the nick of time.” Kirishima giggles. “S’not funny, you tease me about that shit in front of Queen Mitsuki and she’ll order me to behead you right there.” Kirishima shakes his head, shivering.

“I never speak in front of the Queen.”

“Probably a good move these days.” He stretches a little. “Prophecy said no children, didn’t mention virgin. But uh, I think-”

“Prince Bakugou,” a cool voice breathes, cutting through the silence, Kirishima jumps but Bakugou contains his surprise at being snuck up upon.

“Primogen Tobita.” Bakugou says gruffly, and the older man bows to the Prince and nods to his knight. “Not very priestly of you to be eavesdroppin’.” Kirishima keeps his face neutral, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword, but the tall, grey haired man just laughs warmly.

“I’m far too old to be overhearing conversation that isn’t happening right in front of my eyes.” He’s a tall man, though both Bakugou and Kirishima have a few inches on him. His long grey hair is parted down the middle, and despite his claims of age his eyes sparkle with the youth and mischief of a young man. “Though I did hear you had quite an adventure today.” He presses. “I’d love to meet the young woman you liked so much she earned a spot on your saddle.”

“She was trouble.” Bakugou growls. “I needed to keep an eye on her.”

“Well either way, you caught me on my way to the dungeon to pay her a visit.” Bakugou and Kirishima exchange a glance.

“I’ll accompany you.” Kirishima offers. “Someone of your age shouldn’t be wandering the maze of the dungeons, you’ll need an escort.”

“Certainly you’re not worried,” he touches his chest, “About the intentions of a man of the church, who the gods have chosen, are you?”

“I can assure you his only concern was for your safety.” Bakugou says, practically spitting the words. “How fares my mother, Primogen?” The primogen sighs theatrically.

“Overtaken by visions and headaches. Hopefully we’ll find Amathar’s heir soon.” He clasps his hand together. “Perhaps it will be the girl you found today. Excuse me.” He pushes past the group and Bakugou sighs deeply, gesturing to the redhead.

“Follow him.” Kirishima nods, and slips into the darkness. Bakugou re enters the castle, servants scurrying out of his way, determined to see his mother in private. The throne room is filled with the usual lords and ladies, post dinner they’re dancing and drinking to tinkling music, warbling out from a drunken flute player. His mother is in the thick of them, long blond hair braided down her back, cup of wine in her right hand, eyes glassy and far off as she sits on her throne, ignoring the nobles speaking to her. She waves them away at the sight of her son.

“Katuski,” she breathes, reaching for him, “I’ve had the most horrible dream,” he nods, allowing her to hold him close as she stands, leaning heavily against his solid form, “About snakes,” she whispers, “First the wells will dry and then there will be snakes, if we cannot bring peace between our nations. We must find Amathars daughter, please, Katsuki, promise me you won’t stop looking.” He glances around, there are several fountains spitting clear cool water in just the throne room alone, but he couldn’t help but remember how dusty and dry the city had been while riding through it earlier. He nods.

“Of course.”

“And the girl, the girl from today?” She asks, “When can she be tested?”

“Tomorrow morning.” Bakugou replies. “She’s in the dungeon for tonight.” His mother shudders, taking another sip of wine. “I could get you some water?’ He offers gruffly, but she shakes her head, sitting back on the throne, nearly falling asleep immediately.

“I want to meet her.” She says absentmindedly. Bakugou nods again.

“Tomorrow.” He turns abruptly and leaves, not wanting to witness his mother passing out, drunk on her throne.

The moon is high in the night sky when the Primogen makes his way down the steps to the dungeon, moving deep within stone hallways. You’re finally completely dry and asleep against the wall, breathing softly, when the clang of your cell door opening wakes you.

“Hello, there.” Primogen Tobita greets you, and you cower, remembering the Knight’s warnings. He’s tall, about the same height as the prince, with grey hair slicked back from his face, and cool dark eyes. His facial hair is neat, trimmed into a tiny little moustache and just a bit of beard at the end of his chin. His robes are dark and billowing, completely obscuring his silhouette. “No need to be afraid.” He says smoothly. “My name is Primogen Tobita, heretic.” You avert your eyes instinctively. “I understand that you may not want to be disrespectful,” he says, “But I would prefer you look at me.” You lift your head to him, and his breath catches in his throat, your dark eyes clearly visible in the torchlight. “That,” he mutters, to himself, “Is concerning.”

“Sir?” You say quietly, picking the honorific you think is least likely to get you in trouble. You scoot away from him, pressing your back against the stone wall.

“Do you have a name?” You nod. “You have my permission to speak.” He says and you shrug.

“I do have a name.” You answer instinctively and he reaches down and slaps you hard across the face, his rings scratching your skin as stars bloom behind your eyes.

“Try again.” he says, still completely composed.

“F/n.” You choke out, now completely crumpled in the corner. “Please I-” You stop yourself, noticing how he wipes his hand after touching you, your blood on his white handkerchief.

“A follower of the sea goddess.” He mutters. “I should have known, they don’t train their women properly.”

“Do not touch her again.” A voice from behind him makes you both jump, as Kirishima strides into the cell. “You could have just struck royalty, Primogen.” He kneels next to you with a clean rag, dabbing at the blood on your cheek with a tenderness that makes your heart ache in your chest.

“I’m simply wondering what kind of witchcraft she used to bewitch the prince!” Primogen Tobita stutters, his pert nose crinkling. “I’ve never seen Prince Bakugou so, distracted, in court today when I suggested she be put to death for threatening your life he was,” he pauses, dramatically resting a hand over his heart, “Beside himself. He’s clearly besotted.”

“Prince Bakugou was troubled by the violence our soldiers demonstrated against the townspeople of her small village.” Kirishima says, an edge to his voice, “He knows this kingdom owes her a debt.” There’s a brief pause as he stands facing the Primogen.

You’re struck again by how large he is, the wide span of his shoulders might at a different angle completely obscure Primogen Tobita from your view.

“Thing is, Sir Shinsou spoke with some of the soldiers, who have been regularly attending the masses you lead for the common people.” He takes a step forward, but Primogen Tobita doesn’t step back, “And they told him that you’ve been encouraging soldiers to grant heretics salvation,” he says, his voice now low and threatening, “At the end of their swords.” Primogen Tobita doesn’t miss a beat.

“Clearly, it was a metaphor.” He says, crossing his arms, “For rebirth in death, in the light of the gods.”

“Clearly,” Kirishima takes another step towards him, and this time the older man has the grace to scoot backwards an inch across the stone floor, “That metaphor cost many lives. I trust you will correct this this weekend at service.” The Primogen swallows. “Or,” Kirishima’s fist closes around the hilt of his sword. “I will correct it, for you.”

“Are you threatening me, Sir Kirishima Eijirou?” Primogen Tobita gathers his robes, performatively scandalized, but the knight just chuckles, a slow grin spreading across his handsome face.

“I am, Primogen. I thought you were educated enough to understand that without explanation.” There’s an awkward pause.

“You forget yourself, Sir Kirishima.” Tobita leans forward. “Aeds good favor, once lost, is difficult to regain.”

“I think me and my sword will do just fine.” At that the Primogen sweeps off in a huff and as soon as his back is turned Kirishima looks back at you.

“Was that smart?” You whisper. “Threatening him?”

“It would take a hundred men to take me alive, and more to kill me.” Kirishima says grimly, inspecting you. “I was gonna do this tomorrow, but I need you to understand what can happen to you if you mouth off to men like him.” You swallow, mouth pressing into a tight line.

“I’m not afraid of death.” You whisper, and he frees one of your wrists, handing you his skein of water. You drink quickly, and he helps you to your feet.

“There are things,” he says, leading you out of the cell, “Worse than death.” He offers you his arm, and you take it, your feet bare on the cool stone. He leads you deeper in the dungeon. “I’m not asking for your cooperation anymore.” He says, as you turn a corner, a note of desperation in his voice. “I’m demanding it.” He pushes open a heavy door before you can respond, and the smell of blood and smoke fills your nose. It’s a torture chamber, odd twisting metal, heavy leather whips, a wheel with leather straps on it, turning slowly over a fire. It’s unoccupied. He lets you step forward, your eyes like saucers as you inspect the space, running your hands over the metal spikes that come away with flakes of red dried blood. “I wouldn’t touch anything.” You nod, withdrawing your hands back into your body, genuine fear returning to you.

“You want to help me?” You ask, your voice soft.

“I’m in your debt.” He says simply, hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “No harm should have come to your family.” You swallow nervously.

“I would like to, avoid this.” You step back towards him. “I’ll work on um, my demeanor, I can cooperate, if it keeps me from this room.” He notices your hands trembling, and it tugs at him.

“My lady,” he says, reaching for you, pulling you into his chest and rubbing comforting circles in your back, feeling you tremble. “We will protect you, alright if you just-”

“You shouldn’t be alone with her like this.” The purple haired knight from earlier steps into the room from a side door, sending your heart into a sprint.

“I’m not-” Kirishima sputters, “Shinsou you know I wouldn’t-” He grins, waving away the protests.

“You’re trouble.” Shinsou says, inspecting you with a clinical air. His eyes match his hair, and they flick from your waist to your chest, and then back to Kirishima, without stopping at your face. “You didn’t put her with the others, did you?”

“She didn’t have a group so I locked her up alone in the overnight cell.” Kirishima says defensively. “Bakugou likes her, he wouldn’t want her to-”

“So bring her to his bed,” Shinsou interrupts him. “Or follow orders. You’re too soft on them.” You open your mouth, remember the room you're standing in, and close it. Shinsou breaks into a wide smile, “Oooh did he scare you into submission?” You don’t respond, skin prickling with goosebumps in the cool of the dungeon. “Poor little mouse,” he growls, “First time in a trap?”

“Don’t play with her.” Kirishima pushes himself in front of you, he’s got a few inches on Shinsou, and he squares his shoulders, “She’s not either of ours.”

‘That’s right.” Shinsou counters. “So I’m going to take her up to where the other women were held, rather than the comfortable overnight cell.” He rolls his neck. “Get out of my way.” Kirishima flashes his palms and steps aside, letting Shinsou take you roughly by your upper arm, leading you out of the torture chamber, back the way you came. You try biting them back but you can’t stop the words that flow from your lips,

“If that wasn’t supposed to be where I was being held, then how did that priest find me?” Both men freeze, and turn to you.

“A guard showed him where you were, right?” Kirishima says, “I had to keep my distance, so I didn’t see but,”

“No.” You confirm. “He came alone.” Shinsou laughs darkly.

“Trouble.” He half whispers, half sings. “Shall we check on her cell?” Kirishima nods, and the two men draw their swords. They walk in a defensive formation, Shinsou’s eyes narrowed, Kirishima’s jaw set. He rounds the corner before your cell and you hear the clang of metal against metal. Kirishima’s sword collides with another man’s blade, leaping behind Shinsou, hiding your face in his back. Kirishima quickly disarms the assailant, who is dressed fully in black.

“What is the meaning of this?” Primogen Tobita strolls out of your cell, “Unhand that man, the gods have chosen him for a purpose!’”

“What might that be, Primogen?” Shinsou asks casually, leaning against the stone.

“I had a dream,” he says, gesturing with his jewel encrusted hand, “Nahelenia herself came to me, and said I must speak with that woman,” he points at you, “Alone, that she had a secret to tell.”

“So you sent someone with,” Shinsou glances down at the man on the ground, clutching a dark blade, “A poisoned dagger, to speak with her?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The Primogen huffs. “And I’ll speak with the maiden now.” He holds out a hand, but you don’t take it. “Are you going to defy an order of the church?” He purrs, and you look up at Kirishima, asking for help, but it’s Shinsou that comes to your rescue.

“Actually, we’re here to take her to the castle. Royal Order.” His voice is a low gravel. “You may speak with her tomorrow, after the ritual.” The Primogen scowls.

“If Prince Bakugou requires company, there are a number of courtesans-”

“Actually,” Shinsou cuts him off. “It’s the Queen who asked to speak with her.” If the Primogen is surprised, he doesn’t show it, simply bowing deeply. “And if you’re lucky, I won’t tell her what you said about her son, and,” his lips curl into a sneer, “Courtesans.” He turns to you, offering you his arm. You take it, avoiding eye contact with the Primogen and his man. When you get out of the dungeon, into the night, Kirishima lets out a long breath.

“Fuck,” he says, “Holy fucking shit.”

“You're welcome.” Shinsou sheaths his sword, shaking his head at the other Knight. “One of these days you’re going to have to learn how to play politics.” He says to the redhead who looks sheepish, leading you up the stairs out of the dungeon. Shinsou walks behind you, one hand tightly enclosed around your upper arm.

“I just,” Kirishima sighs, “I get nervous, about church stuff.”

“Was that man going to kill me?” you cut in, eyes wide, and the two knights look at you.

“Almost certainly.” Shinsou says, as if it was stupid that you asked. You nod slowly, and Kirishima opens the door, letting you out into the garden. It’s so early in the morning that the sky is lightening in the east.

“Do we need to take her to the Queen?” Kirishima asks, and Shinsou snorts.

“Queen’s passed out drunk. Just get her ready for the ritual.” He stretches a little. “If the church is worried, maybe she’s the one?” Kirishima nods, looking you over again. “You sure you know who your father is?” You consider, teeth closing on your lower lip.

“Fairly sure, Sir.”

“Sir,” Shinsou cackles, repeating you. “Credit where credit is due, Kirishima, seems like you did a good job scaring the girl. Kirishima rolls his eyes.

“Give her here,” He says, and Shinsou releases you, letting you walk, bare feet in the dirt, over to Kirishima. “We’re headed there.” He points to a tower, “It’s important that you don’t speak to anyone who doesn’t speak to you, alright?” You nod emphatically, and Shinsou scrutinizes you.

“She’s gonna get herself executed in less than a week.” He turns his back on the two of you, “Try not to go down with her.” You swallow a bitter taste, your stomach growling, and let Kirishima lead you through another big pair of double doors, through what must be servants' quarters, people are just starting to wake up. He takes you up a back staircase, it’s narrow and rickety, you nearly trip over the hem of your dress a few times, but he just catches you, large hands closing around your waist and lifting your body into an upright position. You’re tired, your head is buzzing, your stomach aching but you can only assume the lack of food has been intentional. He pushes through a door, and there are squeals.

“Kirishima!” A woman with long dark hair, dressed head to toe in white, “Out, out out,”

“I’ve got the next girl, though!” He protests, “And this isn’t your room, it’s just the tower's antechamber.” You step out from behind him and find yourself engulfed in a warm hug. The woman smells like cedar and patchouli. She takes you by the shoulders, ignoring him.

“I heard you had to bathe in the knights quarters,” She shudders, “How positively dreadful.” Kirishima rolls his eyes.

“It was fine. But ah, if you could be nice to her, that would be excellent.” He says, “I’m afraid she’s only seen the worst of Yuuei so far.” The woman nods, still inspecting you.

“So, girl, singular?” She raises her eyebrows. Kirishima presses his lips together, considering.

“Yeah, you know what Momo,” His fist closes around your upper arm hard enough to bruise. “Can you do what you’re gonna do with her bound?” Momo frowns, blinking a few times. Clearly she woke up only a few minutes ago, there’s still the glassy look of dreaming in her dark eyes. You look around, taking in your surroundings while she considers. The room in the tower is light and airy, large windows allow for the shards of sunlight to paint the oak wood floors with warm golden patterns of sunrise. It seems a uniquely feminine space.

"I don't know," Momo looks troubled, "Is she dangerous?"

“I’ll be good,” you interrupt, looking up at him, “Sir.” Kirishima still looks troubled.

“They’re priestesses of Aed,” he explains, turning to you, “They’re not warriors.” He rubs his chin. “You’ll behave?” You nod emphatically and Momo’s dark arching brows knit together.

“What did she do?” She asks, and a grin blooms across Kirishima’s face, he runs his fingers through his coarse red locks.

“Oh, held me at knifepoint, among other things.”

“That’s it!” You squeak, turning around to look at him, “That’s really the only thing I’ve-”

“She’s committed verbal treason and blasphemed about every five minutes, don’t listen to her.” Kirishima says, thinking, but to your surprise, Momo giggles.

“I can understand a little treason. Prince Bakugou is,” a little smile plays on her lips, “He takes some getting used to but he’s a good man.” Kirishima winces, and Momo watches the joy drop from your face as you give a little shake of her head.

“I won’t,” your teeth close on your lower lip. “I don't think-”

“There was an unfortunate incident yesterday.” Kirishima says quietly. “Some of his soldiers burned down her village. Her father is dead.” You bite back your immediate responses, an unfortunate incident, your father wasn’t dead, he was murdered. Murdered. Killed. Taken from you. Momo's shoot open, understanding immediately.

“You’re powerless here,” she says quietly, and the change in her tone takes you by surprise. She inspects you again, your unkempt appearence, the pain she can see deep in your eyes. “You and I have that in common. You’re a smart woman.” You realize it’s one of the first times you haven’t been called a girl, despite being well past your twentieth winter. “I can’t do anything for you. You won’t be able to escape the castle by hurting me, or any of the other priestesses. You know this.” You nod. “No need to bind her.” Momo says smoothly. “Now get out. Men aren’t allowed in our tower, not that the Kingsguard doesn't flaunt our rules at every opportunity.”

Kirishima ducks back through the door way apologetically, waviing a farewell and Momo sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“You’re powerless?” You ask, interrupting her annoyance with the Knight. She nods.

“Priestesses of Aed surrender their lives to the god of flame.” She says. “I’ve given up my entire future to be here, to serve him and the old magic of Yuuei.” You swallow. “It means I’ll never have to marry, I can refuse summons to court, I can travel, it comes with a measure of freedom. But no power, politically speaking.” You nod and she leads you further into the tower, into a room lined with fragrant cedar. There’s a tub, she turns a spigot and it starts to fill with water. “I’ll give you some oils and whatnot, you can take a bath in there,” she gestures over her shoulder, “And I’ll give you a ceremonial dress.”

“One powerless person to another, then,” you ask. “What happens after the ceremony, if I’m not royalty?” Momo looks pained.

“Right now the women are being held in the tower after we determine that they aren’t King Amathar’s daughter. I understand you spent the night in our overnight cell, it’s not um,” she opens a door, “The tower is a touch less comfortable. But not so bad!” You nod and she opens a cabinet, handing you a glass bottle. You unscrew the lid, it smells of freesia and lavender. “Clean yourself to the best of your ability and then some of the priestesses of Aed will be by to style your hair. She leaves then, closing the door behind her, you hear it lock.

You wiggle out of the dress Kirishima gave you and step into the warm water, luxuriating in it. The bath is soft and pleasant, and lying in the warm water is the most comfortable you’ve been in days. You clean yourself until the water gets tepid. Then you cover your body with your hands and knock of the door.

The rest of the preistesses, Jirou and Mina, wrap a clean linen dress around your body and work a comb through your tangled hair, styling it and braiding flowers that you recognize from the garden on the grounds into the braids. The flowers themselves smell soapy and clean and between that and the bath you imagine you must be thoroughly perfumed. The preistesses speak around you for the most part, talking about court gossip, about a few vassals who were late on their taxes, a few wives cheating on their husbands, a few mistresses, what the newest clothing trends were.

“What about you,” Mina asks cheerfully, and it takes you a second to realize that she’s speaking to you. “Did you have a sweetheart, or lover, in your village?” You clear your throat.

“I’m a widow.” You say quietly, and her kind dark eyes fill with concern. “It’s ah, it’s alright.” You say quickly. “I didn’t love him. But, I,” you sigh, “I’ve never been in love, I suppose.”

“Why did you marry him, then?” Mina chirps, and Jirou looks at her reproachfully. “What, arranged marriages aren’t common among peasants, no offense.” You swallow, flashing back to your wedding, the white dress in the drafty chapel, to the smell of ale on your husbands breath.

“It was an uncommon situation. But yes, it was pre arranged.”

“Maybe you’ll come out of this ritual engaged to Prince Bakugou!” Mina says, with a little laugh. You shudder and there’s an awkward silence. “That’s not so bad,” Mina protests and Jirou speaks for the first time.

“She’s going to end up in the tower, Mina, so if you could not-”

“What’s so bad, about the tower?” You ask, more sharply than you mean to.

“It’s just crowded.” Jirou says quickly. “We’re not supposed to talk about it. And,” She looks at Mina, “We’re not supposed to talk to the women at all.” Mina sighs.

“I’m bored, though, this is boring.”

“Can I ask,” you try to capitalize on this silence, “Can I ask how women become preistesses in Yuuei?”

“Women in Yuuei can’t refuse an engagement.” Jirou explains. “But we can choose the church over marriage.” She adjusts a flower in your hair. “It wouldn’t be an option for you, regardless of the outcome of the ritual, because you arent a citizen.” You nod, and

Jirou helps you into a deep red dress, that dips between your breasts. When you see yourself, in the ceremonial gown, in a crown of red roses and white gardenias, in front of the first mirror you’ve ever seen, you hardly recognize yourself. You bare only a passing resemblance to the girl whos face looked back at you from her pail of well water just a scant few days ago. There’s a soft knock at the doors.

“Oi.” They hear, and scramble get up, “Lemme talk to her.”

“Prince Bakugou,” Momo cries loudly, striding in from another room at the sound of the Prince’s irate voice, “Men aren’t supposed-”

“Really?” He cuts her off, raising his voice. “When my mother dies, I’ll be king. You don’t say no to me.” She blanches, and unlocks the door. He pushes it open and then does a double take. There’s something about the life of the flowers in your hair that matches the expression on your face, his heart beats in a strange new rhythm. “Get out.” He says and the women scatter, darting deeper into the set of rooms. “Kirishima told me an attempt was made on your life.” You shrug.

“Yes, sir.” It’s a pity he’s an oaf, you decide, because Prince Bakugou Katsuki is decidedly handsome, cutting a sharp silhouette, an elegant profile. A pity, that he was cruel, a pity, then, that he was stupid. You eye the sword at his hip, wishing you could drive it into his ribs. “I came to see,” he looks frustrated, dressed in simple clean clothes, hair parted to one side. “I came to make sure you were alright.”

“You feel badly for me.” You move towards him, slowly, trying not to ruin the complex hairstyle and perfectly laid gown. The prince rubs his eyes, the sun is directly behind you in the window, it hurts to look at you too long.

“I feel responsible for you.” He says, shading his red brown eyes with his hand, blinking the the brilliance of the sun. You sigh deeply.

“You know, in the books, Princes have honor.” Your mouth sets in a hard line. “They’re chivalrous, they care for their people.” He looks away. “What are you doing, for the people of your country, out there?” He shrugs, brows knitting together.

“I’m doing what I can. The fuck is it to you?” Annoyance colors his response. You shrug.

“I’d like to know what kind of man I’m at the mercy of,” you say softly. He reaches for you and you instinctively flinch just before his hand brushes your jaw. He traces the outline of a bruise from where you’d been shoved onto the ground the day before.

“I'm not the kind of man who hits a woman unless he's really gotta. I don't do that shit cause I'm angry, or for fun. Don't flinch away from me, and I won't give you a reason to be afraid of me.” He orders and you do your best, trembling under his touch, remembering that his men had said he was descended from a god. “Kiri really scared the shit outta ya, huh?” He rumbles and you turn your head to meet his gaze, realizing how close his face is to yours. He takes the end of your chin, tipping your face up towards his.

“What’s going to happen to me?” You whisper.

“I can’t tell you anything about today.” He holds your gaze.

"What about after?" You breathe, and in the golden light of the early morning you are so breathtakingly beautiful that all words fly from his mind, he opens his mouth to respond and no words come out.

“Excuse me,” It’s Momo, peeking her head back in, saving him. “You have to take her down in a few minutes, and so help me Aed, Prince Bakugou if you’ve undone our careful work-”

“Calm down,” The prince rolls his eyes. “She’s fine”

“I’m, um, I'm sorry,” you chirp, and both of them look at you, “Wait I’m, I apologize, what do I call you? Not sir?” He smirks.

“Your highness, your grace, your majesty,” he shrugs, “Pick. My full title’s pretty long, you’ll hear it when we get down there.” You take his hand and he impulsively pulls you into his body. Standing like that, pressed up against him, it’s a reminder of how physically intimidating he is. You can feel the muscles on his chest through his shirt, and you get the sense that once he’s wrapped a thick, tanned arm around your waist that you wouldn’t possess the strength to free yourself. He crushes a few of the flowers in your hair with his rough movements and Momo scowls.

“Enough manhandling her.” Momo says, shooing him away.

“No,” He turns to Momo angrily, “I'll do what I want with her, she belongs to me-”

“I belong to you?” You retort instinctually, “You think you’re entitled to my body, because your men murdered my family-” You stop yourself, realizing that everyone is staring at you, that Momo looks terrified, that Bakugou looks aghast. “Y-your grace.” You finish, looking down at your hands as he releases you.

“I told you,” and the pain cuts through his bravado, tipping the tone of his pitch higher, “I feel fuckin' awful,” he takes a shuddering breath clearly steadying himself. “It wasn’t on my orders, but it was on my watch so I, I'm sorry.” He mutters. “I won’t be able to make it up to you.” There’s a pause. “Momo stop shakin' like that, I’m not gonna cut ‘er fuckin’ head off in front of ya.” She lets out a long breath and he watches your bravery dissolve into fear.

“Sorry, I,” you bow your head. “I’m sorry, your grace, I just, it’s been difficult, and I'm sorry.” The tears that you’ve been fighting for days prick at your eyes and you wipe them away, “I’m sorry,” you say again. “I'm just alone now, and I'm afraid.” You lift your eyes to him, the last word comes out like more of a whispered plea than an apology. “You can, you can have whatever you want, obviously,” you babble, “You’re royalty, you can take-” He cuts you off with a wave of his hand, scowling and speaking sharply, in a timbre you recognize as a direct order.

“You gotta keep your mouth shut or it’ll get you killed. I'm bein' patient because I owe ya one. But anyone else at this castle woulda seen you whipped for talkin' to them like that, and bein' common.” You bow your head and he softens. “We’ll head down if uh,” Momo hands you a handkerchief and you dab at your eyes.

“Thanks.” He offers you his hand for a second time and you take it. This time he gives you your space, letting the gown drag behind you as you both walk down the stairs from the priestesses tower into the main body of the castle. There’s a few minutes of silence.

“Why did you let me on your horse?” You ask, the curiosity burning away at you. He doesn't look at you. “You could have thrown me on the wagon with the things you,” you stop yourself from saying stole, “Acquired.” He lets out a heavy breath.

“I didn’t want any of the soldiers to touch you. I needed to make it clear that you were mine. Or they would have taken you when I wasn’t around.”

"Taken me?" You start, and that gets his attention, the honest surprise in your voice.

"You uh," He takes in your face, reading the genuine surprise. "You ever get out of that village before this?" You shake your head.

"Not often. But I, I'm always shocked by the cruelty humanity is capable of. No matter how many times the fates try and teach me, I never learn." He nods at this, understanding.

"Well, I had ta let 'em know you were mine."

“I’m yours?” You repeat, voice echoing down an empty hallway. The castle is nearly deserted but for a few servants. You can hear what sounds like a large gathering of people ahead of you. He shoves his hands in his pockets.

“I decided when you held a knife up to my best friend's throat.” He clears his throat. “So when the ritual today is over, you’ll be mine. The other women in the tower will stumble their way back to what’s left of their villages when we find the descendent of Amathar, which we will eventually or my mother will die and I can abandon this useless crusade. But s’not like you have a home to go back to.” He watches pain well in your eyes and kicks himself.

“Sorry,” you whisper. “It hurts, to think about, having nowhere,” the pitch of your voice rises, “Nowhere to go back to.” You stop walking, and lean against the stone wall, closing your eyes. It’s cool against your back.

“No I,” he searches for words, for a phrase, some kind of incantation meant to soothe, but he doesn’t have access to such things, it’s an unwieldy weapon he’s not trained in yet, heavy in clumsy hands. Instead he leans in and presses his lips to your forehead. One of his large hands rests on your waist, rubbing a comforting pattern. He can feel your pulse racing beneath your skin. “It won’t be too bad, bein’ here.” He says in his low rasp, and it might be his imagination but you seem to soften at his touch.

“What’s gonna happen when I go in there, your grace?” He starts to lead you down the hallway again and you follow. He looks away from you before speaking again.

“When nothin’ happens, they’ll be some kinda uproar, they’ll take ya to the tower with the others, and I’ll come getcha.” He glances at your trembling hands. “What, marauders in your village no problem, but a little fake ass magic bullshit and you're scared?”

“I was willing to die,” you explain, “To free the others from you, but for myself, now I think I’d like to live, if that’s an option.” He chuckles, catching you as you stumble on the hem of your gown.

“Well don’t try anything that stupid here and you just might live to see winter.” He pulls you through a door into a large main passageway in the castle. The hallway has vaulted ceilings and it’s lit by torches. There are detailed tapestries hanging on the wall, and it must be well ventilated, because you can smell the sweet summer air, the fresh cut grass of the lawn. Your feet are still bare against against the sweet hay scattered on the grey stone. Bakugou’s footsteps echo here, his sword hanging at his hip. He puts one hand on a heavy wooden door, carved with the insignia of his house, a knight carrying a torch. “Don’t say anything.” He growls and you nod. In one fluid movement he opens the door. You jump a mile when trumpets blare, and someone calls loudly.

“Crown Prince Bakugou Katsuki, born under the shattered star, Son of Queen Mitsuki, The Unkneeling, The Great Phoenix, The Dragon Knight, The Lightbringer, your lips twitch as you fight off a smirk at the sheer length of his titles, and he squeezes your hand, a warning. “And F/n L/n, from the village of Damona.” There are chuckles, but you barely hear them. The throne room is huge, arching ceilings hundreds of feet in the air, candles burning, flickering gold and yellow off of the grey stone and the jewels of the gathered courtiers, making every shadow in the room dance.

The throne itself is carved from the mountain's stone, glittering cool grey. The queen is the spitting image of her son, blonde hair threatening to burst loose from her long braid, in a deep red dress, adorned with gold and silver. The crown on her head is heavy and gleaming, with fiery rubies that catch the low light of the flames. The kingdom of Yuuei’s house symbols were everywhere, the knight is on banners and hangings, embroidered onto dresses, woven into the carpet that serves as a pathway to an altar at the center of the great hall. It’s nubby on your bare feet. You can read their house words on a banner over her perch. House Bakugou, From The Ashes, we rise.

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