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anime-nymph · 2 years

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‗ ❍ falling into the wrong crowd, you catch the eye of sano manjiro who shows you how you have two precious things to offer his cult—your virginity… and your life ┊ bonten x fem!reader

‗ ❍ EXTREMELY DARK CONTENT, unsettling situations, alcohol, implied sexual stimulant given to the reader, the reader has piercings and dyed hair, gangbang, vaginal sex, oral sex, virginity loss, virgin sacrifice, multiple orgasms, facials, blowjobs, cum play, spit play, cum eating, language, derogatory pet names (whore, hole, slut, bitch), choking, dacryphilia, hints of bukkake, sanzu eats mikey's cum from reader's pussy, mean dom!rindou, soft dom!kakucho, humiliation, degradation, slapping, spitting, major noncon, panty gagging, bondage, reader is tied to a table, breath play, reader gets asphyxiated, implied murder through throat slitting ┊6,900 words

‗ ❍ the first piece for my kinktober is here! this is possibly the darkest and filthiest piece i've written up to date bc we’re starting off with a bang… literally. reblogs and feedback are sincerely appreciated!! ┊ dawn's kinktober 2022 masterlist

“You want me to do what?”

Disbelief coated every syllable dripping from your lax mouth. Your best friend and confidante since you two were teens, Mikey, smirked at you from across the table. A bit of whip cream specked the side of his mouth from the mountain of strawberries and sugar sitting in between your tense bodies.

“I want you to attend a Bonten party.”

A frown wormed its way to your lips, and you eyed him skeptically. “You mean your fucking cult, Manjiro?”

You’ve always known your best friend was an odd one. Mikey walked to the beat of his own drum and never took shit from anyone. It was partly why you admired him and another reason why you thought he was sometimes bat-shit insane. From the glint in his eye, you had to scratch that. He was always bat-shit insane.

Mikey chortled and swiped off the cream from the side of his mouth and stuck his thumb into his mouth, humming lowly. His fall of platinum bangs and creased eyes heavy with dark circles should’ve spoke volumes of his mental state. But, throughout the years, you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

He was a good friend. Always there for you whenever you needed a shoulder to cry, a bearer of your deepest secrets and someone you could rely on—there was not much that could scare you away from the enigmatic man.

But this… this took the fucking cake.

According to your friend, Bonten was created with the sole purpose of banding a bunch of misfits together for them to find a home. It also had a reputation of being a hive-mind, led by no other than Sano Manjiro. To hear that he was giving you an invite to the elusive event boggled your thoughts.

Surely, he was pulling your leg.

“And what about it?” He asked in a far too casual tone. “Bonten is not a cult, Y/N. It’s a club.”

“And Charles Manson was a homeschool teacher,” you snorted. “Are you sure you’re not going to like—sacrifice me, or something?”

Mikey chortled, shaking his head, the glint in his eye playful.

“Why would I do that? You’re a friend. Plus, I’m pretty sure you’re not a virgin.”

Your face warmed and you puffed your cheeks. “Who says I couldn’t be one! Is it because of the hair? Y’know, yours is dyed too, right.”

A whisper of a laugh gusted from between his lips. “Yeah, yeah. So, you coming or what? We’ve got booze.”

Throughout your life, you were guided by one principle and one principle only: to seek pleasure wherever you could. From the tattoos, to the hair to the piercings, and the daily benders running high on illegal substances and alcholic fumes, not much bases were left for you touch on.

Except this one.

You squirmed in your seat, tugging the hem of your short skirt down. Mikey’s words flashed in your mind, and you thought it over. While the topic of a woman’s virginity was a touchy one, it did not bode well that someone could casually remark on it. Even if that person was your friend.

Mikey sensed your mood souring, and from the jut of your chin and he knew you what you were going to say before you said it.

“Yeah, fine.” You stuck out your tongue and swiped at a stray piece of strawberry from his sundae, squishing the sweet fruit between your teeth. Ruby red juice trickled down your chin, and you were too busy chewing to notice how Mikey’s onyx eyes darkened. “Do I have to abide by some stupid dress code or something?”

Mikey leaned back, arm perched on the dessert shop’s head rest, a smirk quirking his thin lips.

“Sexy. That’s the dress code. Think you can handle that?”

You were going to make Mikey eat his words.

The moon played hide and seek tonight, releasing its breath in the pattering of tiny drops that reminded you of static from an empty television. A world on the precipice of slipping into an unending darkness.

Head to toe, you were wrapped in a leather bodycon dress, the likes of which would’ve made a nun clutch her rosary if you breezed past. Dousing yourself in a musky, jasmine fragrance, you fluffed up your hair and took one good look at yourself in the mirror. Despite the chill and the sudden uneasiness of tonight, you had to admit this one undeniable fact.

Damn, I look fucking hot. You turned your body slightly to catch the rise of your ass, smiling in self-satisfaction how your panty line was clearly visible. So was the stiffening of your nipples behind the buttery, black material. You looked like sin incarnate, and there was no way Mikey could say you were not putting in an effort if you turned up like this.

Hailing a cab, you tried to ignore how the driver’s eyes were on you the whole time. Your red-stained lips pursed into a defiant pout, willing for him to stop the car and try. You’ve got your pepper spray with you and a host of other self-defence tools. Let’s see if that slimy bastard could drive with one eye gouged out from your Swiss Army knife.

The address Mikey gave you was somewhere in the outskirts of the city, pretty close to the mountains and far away enough from civilisation.

“A cold night, isn’t it?”

You snapped back from your reverie to glance at the old man’s eyes from the rearview mirror.

“Huh?”

“Coldest night in Autumn,” he nudged his head towards the blackened streets, illuminated eeriely by orange streetlamps. It seemed as if you two were the only living souls in sight. “Some say its when the veil between the dead and the living becomes the thinnest.”

You cracked a smile, though with your painted red lips, it came off as a sneer. “Don’t tell me you actually believe in all that crap.”

The driver chuckled at your bold statement. “My dear, when you’ve lived as long as I did on the road, shuffling people back and forth, you start to realise that these legends have a grain of truth to them.”

The Yūrei were tales told by mothers to keep their kids in line. Anyone who believed them after the age of five was just plain weird.

But, you held your tongue, not wanting to insult this man’s belief, no matter how silly it was. “I see. You must have seen a lot in your time.”

Unfortunately for him (and fortunately for you), the car slowed. A looming, nondescript double-storey house stood before you, lit from within warmly with yellow lights, glowing like a woman’s hidden crush. You paid your cab fare and stepped out, fighting off a chill.

The old man was right—it was the coldest day of the season. Every step you took echoed almost forlornly on the cobblestone path, and you felt your gut tightening the closer you got to the door. This did not seem like a party.

You were an almost a connoisseur with these soirees, and the fact that silence pervaded what was supposed to be a celebration was frankly disconcerting.

The warning voice in your head was too loud to ignore. You almost doubled back and booked it for the next cab, planning on texting Mikey that something came up when a deep voice stopped you.

“Y/N?”

Turning around, you were met with a pair of amused lilac eyes. Luxury personified, he was dripping in a velvet purple suit with gold trimming and had neatly slicked-back hair that reminded you of a Trolls doll at a prom. Who is he? You plastered on a smile, backtracking.

“Y-yeah. Do I know you?”

“I’m Mikey’s friend.” Something felt off-kilter about the gleam of his smile. It reminded you of a dull blade—the edges were blunt, but if you pressed hard enough, you could cut yourself from the curiosity. A predator’s beam.

He chuckled and leaned back against the wall, appraising your scantily-clad form. “If you would’ve told me Mikey had a hot friend who pulled up like this, I would’ve made a better effort at dressing up.”

You hid your discomfort with a smile. “I mean, you scrubbed up pretty well. I feel like I’m the one that’s underdressed.”

His eyes flickered to your hardening nipples. He touched the tip of his tongue to the corner of his mouth for the briefest moments, an oily smirk rising from the sharp, defined ridges of his features.

“Do you want to come in? You must be freezing.”

A tremor you could not fight back took over you, trembling your core and chattering your teeth. You shot him a grateful smile, the wobble in your lower lip endearing. “Sure.”

“The name’s Ran.” He took your hand, not to shake it, but to press his lips to the soft underside of your wrist. Your stomach churned and you tugged your hand away, about to chastise him loudly when another voice cut through your jumbling thoughts.

“Stop being a creep to our guest.” Mikey’s voice lifted the fog in your mind, and you drank in his appearance. In a similar black suit, his cufflinks neatly pressed to his wrists reminding you of a Victorian gentleman, Mikey had on a ghost of a smile for you. “I see you’ve met Ran, our resident flirt.”

The man in question chuckled. “You wound me, Mikey. I am not a flirt.”

“You are, too.”

Another voice, another man. You flickered your gaze to a man who looked similar to Ran, except with a lilac mullet streaked with darker shades of purple. His suit was pristine, a striped magenta tie adding to his polished sophistication, though his gaze remained at half-mast, giving him a perpetually bored air.

With their eyes on you, there was little you could fight off the feeling that you were practically naked in front of them.

“What’s all this commotion about?” You gulped at the sight of the latest addition.

A scar rifted down his face, over one white eye and with another vermillion orb firmly drinking in your uncomfortable expression. The next man was handsome in a roughened, roguish kind of way—the kind that a sleek black, double-breasted designer suit with a red tie could not help polish.

His waves of midnight blue brushing his cheek, he turned towards another man with long, white locks and a tattoo on the shaved portion of his head, dressed similarly in an immaculate red suit with vermillion eyeliner sharpening his eyes.

Bonten right in the flesh.

You stared past their broad shoulders towards the other room, your nerves palpable. The floor hummed from the vibrations of a speaker spewing out underground bass, but there was no one enjoying it. In fact, it felt like you were the only person on the entire guest list.

As if reading your unease, Mikey chuckled. “The main party is further inside. This is Ran’s villa and his mom hates noise. Come.”

His brisk invitation sounded more like a command, and you were placed in a tight spot. These gorgeous men lingered at the foyer, waiting for you to make up your mind. You took one look at their fit builds and handsome features and gulped. What was the worst that could happen?

Maybe you could even score someone to finally rid you of your virginity tonight.

The thought bouyed you—leaving you susceptible enough to accept an offered glass of whiskey.

Other girls were there, too, as scantily-clad as you were. Some of them smiled. Others frowned at your choice of attire, as if they were not cut from the same clothe, technically speaking.

You forgot about them. I want to loosen up. Gulp after gulp of alcohol slipped down your easing throat. You almost lost sight of why you were uenasy in the first place. I feel fine.

The music fractured, like a broken toy unwinding, and you stumbled in your heels. A hand caught you, steady and sure.

His smile was the kindest amongst the men here, soothing you. Calm. That was how you felt around him.

“Easy there,” Kakucho murmured, making sure you were able to balance yourself on your feet before he let you go.

“I’m—hic—fine. Thank you.”

The scarred man’s empathy never faltered, lulling you into a false sense of comfort. He tugged your arm. “Come on. I know where we can sober up.”

You had no choice but to stumble after him. The world tilted. Shifted. You offhandedly wondered what was in your drink. Like a skittish foal, you trailed after him, looking over your shoulder. The janky sensation that you were being watched did not allude you.

He led you down a darkened hallway, straight towards a bolted door. Voices murmured from the other end, and he gestured for you to go in first. The design of the handle intrigued you—a gryffin’s claw, and you twisted it, entering a dimly lit room. Candles were placed all around, and a few of Mikey’s friends perked up once you entered.

Someone handed you a drink and you took it uncertainly, sipping on the strong liquid.

“Hey, Y/N.” Ran waved from his perch on a velvet sofa chair. Kokonoi was blowing smoke in circles around him, the air smelling heavily of nicotine. “Why don’t you come over here and sit with us?”

Kokonoi shifted a little to the side and you ambled over towards them. An obedient little lamb. The minute you made to sit down, Ran tugged you onto his lap, the semi-chub under his pants chuffing your barely-clad pussy. You realised a second too late that you were the only woman in this room.

Ran nudged you closer, the act dragging your clothed clit against his zipper. You winced and sucked your teeth, catching his attention. “You okay?” Fidgeting on his lap, you nodded.

“That’s one of Mikey’s best whiskey,” Kokonoi nodded towards the glass in your hand. “You should drink up before it becomes too diluted.”

You dutifully did as he said. Slurping the stinging drink down one gulp at a time. The lights flickered in your periphery. Your body felt heavy—much too heavy—and your tongue was glued to the roof of your mouth. Swallowing, you suddenly felt a prominent ache in between your legs and the idea of Ran’s cock nudging against your slowly swelling clit did not seem so bad.

The men spoke and you listened, trying and failing to hide how you were subtly grinding circles on Ran’s hardening cock. Opposite from you on another sofa, where you had been oblivious to his hooded stare, Kakucho was sipping on his drink, watching your thighs tense and tremble, your hips circling.

It was time.

“Y/N.” His deep, baritone voice intoned your name with such decree, you snapped out of your funk. Below you, Ran tensed his thighs, nudging his crotch upwards and grazing your clit again.

You moaned, low and laced with shame, cheeks warming.

“You think you’re so discreet, aren’t you?”

Your mouth fell open with an audible ‘pop’ when Kakucho stood up, walking straight towards you. When did his shoulders seem so broad and intimidating?

“I saw you. Rubbing that slutty little pussy all over Ran’s slacks like a bitch in heat.” Something about his stance, his voice and his aura had the other men paying attention. Ignoring your wide-eyed surprise, he used his knee to nudge your apart further, splaying the fabric of your leather dress to bunch up around your thighs. You shrieked and tried to cover yourself, but strong, nimble fingers beat you to the punch. Holding your wrists in both his hands and pinning them down to the sofa.

“Thank fucking god you noticed, Kaku-chan. I think she leaked all over my pants.” Ran tsked and the hair on the back of your neck rose when he ghosted a kiss on your pulse point. “All I did was put her on my lap and she can’t even behave.”

Shame rose inside of you, hot and insistent. Mikey’s eyes from the corner of the room caught your attention and you shot him a desperate glance. He lifted a brow. “Careful. That’s my friend you’re talking about.”

Undeterred, Ran chuckled. “Come see for yourself, boss.”

Using your momentary shock to his advantage, Kakucho spread your thighs further apart, giving the whole room a show of your neon-red lace thong and the incriminating little wet spot right at its seat.

A few of the men groaned. Rindou, however, remained unfazed, sipping on his gin and surveying the scene with mild disgust.

The air turned heavier, more heated when the other brother placed another soft kiss on your pulse point. Kakucho, with the air of an angel, became the devil incarnate when he slid his rough, calloused fingers up and down your soft thighs. He smirked when you started flinching, a whimper caught in the back of your throat.

Ran moved your wrists behind your back, keeping them trapped with one, infuriatingly large palm, and clasped his other one right to your neck, grasping it almost possessively as Kakucho continued to massage your buttery skin. You jolted when Ran’s hand melted from your throat to curl around one perky breast, squeezing your plush flesh like it was a grapefruit he was assessing in a farmer’s market.

The other men were fully paying attention to you now. One of them—a man with a mop of pink hair and diamond-shaped scars on both sides of his mouth—chuckled lowly. “Think I can see her little pussy creamin’. You sure choose the best sluts, Mikey.”

Scandalised by his callous comment, you gasped and turned to find your friend chuckling. “I suppose I do.”

As if his word was an implicit permission, the men got bolder. Ran started tugging down the elastic hem of your leather dress, freeing your breasts to the room. A few of them groaned at how perky your nipples already were, begging to be sucked.

“Stop,” you gasped, turning your face away in shame. Not wanting them to see how pleasure rippled across your features when Ran started twisting one turgid peak in his calloused fingers, clamping down on the flesh harshly with a few good pulls. As if he were milking you.

Your thighs nearly slammed close on Kakucho’s head, but he was quick enough to push them back. “Koko, hold her for me, please?”

The white-haired man rolled his serpentine eyes and tossed his phone aside. “The things I do for you horny bastards.”

Despite his complaints, he obeyed Kakucho and lifted your knee, pining it to his lap, massaging the ball of your foot with steady strokes while Ran continued nipping at your blushing bud. Your hips snapped up, a gasp distorting into thin air as Kakucho managed to pull off your sorry excuse for panties and toss it to the ground.

“Wait, give it to me.”

The scarred man picked your soil garment back up and handed it to his friend. Tucking it into his pants pocket, Ran’s growing smirk was felt against your neck. “You mewl so prettily, Y/N. It’s a shame what we have to do to you next.”

You barely gasped out the word, “N-Next?” when Kakucho’s hot breath hit your swollen and aching folds. There was nothing you could do—no place to escape—when his rough tongue parted through your folds, eliciting a yelp from you.

“She’s sensitive,” the pink-haired man remarked.

“Shut up, Haruchiyo.”

“Ngh!” you tossed your head from side to side, the sudden burn in your pussy second to the shame raging through you like a forest fire.

You were not afforded the luxury of hiding your shame—Kakucho’s tongue eliciting wet squelches from your pussy, your wetness dripping on his chin and Ran’s slacks lewdly and with no pause; how you were almost undressed but most of the men remained pristine in their suits branded humiliation deep into your bones.

“Please,” you cried out. “D-Don’t—”

Slim fingers grasped your chin and pushed your face towards him. Kokonoi’s tongue invaded the warm, gasping cavern of your mouth the same time Kakucho pushed his tongue deep into your pussy to lap against your golden spot.

Kokonoi kissed you like a man wanting to devour you whole. Your cries were swallowed, swirled over in saliva and spat back into your waiting mouth, his grip on your chin unyielding. A pearly string connected your lower lip to Kokonoi’s mouth, and you whimpered when he broke it with a quick swipe of his pink tongue.

Sharp pinches bloomed from your chest, and you felt Ran quickly tugging on your nipples with frenzied zeal. Coaxing towards the strongest orgasm of your life. Granted, you were still a virgin, but you had sampled pretty much every toy shaped like a cock in the market. Though from the looks of these men and how tall and formidable they were, you were sure no girth you have shoved into your aching, untainted pussy would ever hold up to their dominance and need to ruin you.

Hatred and lust shared no differences when it came to how ruthlessly Mikey’s men were pleasuring your pliant body. Whatever they laced into your drink left you vulnerable and slow to reacting, your eyes languidly fluttering open and shut like broken blinds, your hips constantly undulating against the stiff length of Ran’s clothed cock.

Your keen was smothered by Kokonoi’s kisses and you were tugged back against Ran’s chest, his mouth fiercely claiming yours where his other friend had just been a few seconds ago. If Kokonoi was sensual lip-locking, Ran’s left little to the idea of who was truly in charge. Mercifully, he stopped playing with your nipples, only for a warm mouth to latch onto a reddened bud, sucking and flicking it with warm, wet strokes.

You flickered your eyes open long enough to find Kokonoi thumbing your neglected bud while his perfect mouth sealed over your other throbbing, turgid nipple.

Between your legs, Kakucho was growing even more pussydrunk, his groans reaching straight to your core. You chanced a glance long enough to find his pretty eyes crossed, your slick webbing between his chin and your pussy.

The seconds stretched into minutes, stoking the fire deep inside of you.

You didn’t orgasm as much as you shattered.

A loud wail could not be contained from Ran’s persistent mouth on yours and you broke away, screaming to the high heavens as your release punched you right in the gut with the force of a bullet train. Limp and sweaty, you slumped back into the older brother’s arms while the younger one clicked his tongue.

“Fifteen minutes. Took you assholes long enough to make her cum.”

Kakucho kneeled back on his haunches, his face completely soaked with the sheen of your juices and he raised one eyebrow towards Rindou. “Think you can do it better, Haitani?”

Ran gently nudged you off him, and you slumped into the sofa like a noodle. Someone hitched your legs up, giving the room a view of your swollen, flush and messy folds.

This time, another mop of lilac hair settled in between your legs, and you cried out, hands fisting in his hair when he sealed his mouth over your aching clit, sucking on it lightly. It jolted you out from your post-orgasm haze, and your hips snapped up pitifully, a sob wrenched so easily from your fucked-out mouth.

“No more! Please!”

Delicate fingers grasped your chin, and you did not see Ran tenderly coming up behind the sofa’s arm, prying your lips apart. Something scratchy and thin was stuffed into your mouth, and you were mortified to find that it was your soiled panties.

Arms lifted you up, pulling you against the plush sofa, and nudging your own wrists over your head. A belt was lashed around your trembling hands, your whole body lifted up and towards a table where you noticed coils of rope in your fugue of lechery. Ran’s broad chest was warm underneath your cheek, and your head lolled to the side, not even caring to spit out the offensive item stuffed into your mouth.

He laid you flat on the cool, wooden surface. Someone grasped your legs and tied them to the table’s wooden ones, exposing your puffy lips and the wetness that still dripped down your thighs like the world’s dirtiest secret. Your arms, already lashed, were tied with two ropes from the other side of the table.

Warm fingers pressed on your pulse point, rubbing it softly.

“So perfect for us.”

Kakucho. He came back to view and leaned down to give you a kiss even through your makeshift gag, sucking lightly on your plump lower lip. A jolt of pleasure from between your legs indicated someone was back to eating you out. Jerking your head back, you moaned when Rindou started where he left off.

Someone fished your panties out from your mouth and turned your face to the side. A stiff length nudged between your lips, and you took it without complaint, sucking on it like it was a lollipop tasting of salt, skin and clean musk. Whoever shoved their cock down your throat was neat, his well-trimmed pubic hair touching the tip of your nose.

You had no choice but to loosen your throat if you didn’t want to die from choking on cock. The wet, lewd sounds of you taking Haruchiyo’s length was exacerbated from the deep squelches of Rindou eating you out like a starved man. The slick sounds of hands rubbing on cocks shiny with juices echeod around the room.

The air was scented with maddening musk and the smell of sweat. You were right in the eye of the storm of lust and mayhem, the dark room spinning.

Over the din was Mikey’s constant onyx eyes fixated on you. They were flat and dark with reproach.

You flickered your teary gaze to him, pleading. Stop this—I’m begging you.

But, he did not relent. He merely sat back in a singular velvet sofa seat, legs spread and chin perched in his hand, like a bored, dangerous king. Haruchiyo peered up at him from fucking your mouth to grin widely at Mikey, grotesquely stretching his scars. “She’s a natural—fuck, y’sure she’s a virgin?”

“Well, she won’t be now,” Ran grunted from the side, cock in hand. Kakucho heavy breathing insterpersed with your rough, gagging noises. Fuck, fuck, fuck—I’m cumming.

You squealed around Haruchiyo’s cock the same moment your release slammed into you, leaving you feeling even more jelly-like than before. If it weren’t for the ropes around your limbs binding you fast to the table, there would be no telling if you would’ve slipped off the high perch.

Static filled your mind, eyes glossy as Haruchiyo retracted his slick length and started pumping fast strokes right over your parted lips, his other hand pinching your cheeks together to keep your mouth lax. The first spurt of cum you tasted tonight landed squarely on your tongue, and you could do nothing but take his load. It was bitter and musky, leaving you wincing and gagging.

Two slim and rough fingers slipped into your mouth, stoppering you from throwing up his cum, cruel smirk glinting in your periphery. “Swallow it.”

Tears trickled down your cheeks and you obeyed him, gulping down his load. From somewhere below you, another set of fingers were working your clit while shoving two nimble digits right into your fluttering cunt.

“No more,” you moaned, head thumping back onto the hard wooden surface. “No more, please—hmph.”

The next cock lodged itself right down your gullet, and you tried hard to pry open your eyes that were tacky with Haruchiyo’s previous release. The person was kind enough to smear the glistening sheen of cum from your lashes and you peered up blearily to find Kakucho’s reddened face completely contorted in pleasure. He used your mouth the same way Haruchiyo did, albeit in a softer way.

His thrusts were gentle, thumb on your lower lip holding you open for him. He was bigger—far girthier than his friend was—and you struggled to take him all in, choking around his massive base.

“Good girl,” he rasped. Someone was frantically fucking your tight, fluttering hole with those two maddening fingers. “Doing so well for us.”

Your leather dress was slicked with sweat, completely stuck to your skin. The cheap PVC was no match to hide the flecks of pre-cum the boys left behind, and you shivered to imagine how you would look like covered with their jizz.

Kakucho cradled your head while (Rindou?) suckled on your clit again. Trying to get you to the precipice of another orgasm.

Before you could get into the rhythms, Rindou pulled back, and you were left gaping and empty. But, not for long.

A slick length slid through your rippling walls, the man groaning. Ran. You were sure it was him—no one else sounded that low and deep quite like he did. Except for Kakucho.

The scarred man’s midnight blue bangs were stuck to his face, his eyes hypnotisingly trained on you. Those incongrous orbs were mesmersing, and you wished you could stare into them for a little while longer to memorise their shimmering iridescence.

Shut the fuck up about his eyes, you’re getting fucked goddamnit.

Ran barely had time to settle into the hilt before he was wrenched away. Mikey loomed over you, seething and humming for murder. “I told you. It’s me who gets first dibs on her pussy. Don’t you dare fucking forget who owns all of you.”

Manjiro… except, this was not him. The Mikey you knew would never spew words like this. Gone was your sweet best friend, and in its place was a man whose slim, pinkish-tip cock was pulsing to be in you. He dipped his fingers through your seam, and smeared your juices over his entire length, giving himself some extra lubrication.

You shivered when another set of pretty, ring-clad fingers tweaked your nipples and you gurgled around Kakucho’s length when Ran took to idly fiddling with your sensitive and swollen buds like they were his favorite toy. He ducked his head down to suckle on your points, and you nearly choked on Kakucho’s length when Mikey started thrusting—hard.

His strokes were punishing, meant to push his cock deep into your body til you could taste him at the back of your throat where Kakucho’s own cock was brutalising it. After setting a punishing pace, he started thumbing at your clit, and you felt like you were sure to explode. Every fiber of your body was made purely of sensation. You were floating and burning at the same time; a butterfly with their wings immolated mid-flight.

Stuttered breaths from the man above you signalled he was close to cumming. Though Kakucho was sweet, he was still apart of Bonten. He was still as fucked up as they were.

A loud groan barely prepared you for his seed splashing down your face in hot rivulets, cock jerking and throbbing violently as if pulled by a sadistic marionette. The large appendage bobbed once, twice, drooling white fluid down onto your fucked-out features. He rubbed his cum into your cheek and chin, dipping his fingers in your mouth to let you suckle on them docilely.

“Damn. Think we broke her?"

Rindou’s voice floated from somewhere on the other end of the room.

If this was Hell, you were already starting to repent. I can’t do this anymore. Perpetually nailed to a stake of pleasure and agony, you were fighting against both sensations warring and clashing to come out at the top. Someone please help me.

The moment one cock left your mouth, another took its place. Mercifully, Kokonoi’s cock was less girthier than the others before you. What he lacked in thickness, he made up in length, and it nearly overwhelmed your gag reflex, causing you to puke up the alcohol you ingested earlier.

Someone spat onto your heaving, jiggling tits and massaged their spit into your heated skin. Ran grunted your name and Rindou was panting heavily from your left, jerking his cock off.

Covered from head to toe in their fluids, you were shaking so hard you would’ve nearly sliced off your tongue with your teeth if Kokonoi’s cock did not pin your mouth in place. You keened when Mikey started slapping your clit in time to his thrusts, and your eyes rolled back into your head at the sensation of Kokonoi squeezing down your windpipe as you tried to suck him off eagerly.

“Look at you,” Mikey snarled rabidly. “Taking this so well you fucking slut.”

Your legs were pushed back slightly, hips tilted up by Mikey’s palms around your ass globes, giving him a deeper angle. Stars bounced in the back of your eyes, and you felt the telltale twitch of your friends dick deep in you.

“Cumming,” he moaned, platinum blonde locks stuck to his forehead, dark eyes manic with pleasure. “G’na… fuck…”

It was like no other feeling in the world when Mikey pumped his cock into you over and over again until hot warmth filled you up to the brim. Instead of feeling shame, you were in awe of how empty yet full you felt at the same time when his cock withdrew from your swollen walls. A little trickle of hot cum dotted the table, and you nearly had a heartattack when Haruchiyo swooped in right after his boss.

“Can I?”

Mikey nodded, exhaustion lining his features as he staggered back towards the single seat sofa. “Knock yourself dead, Sanzu.”

Instead of fucking Mikey’s cum back into you like you believed he would do, the pink-haired fiend knelt down right in front of your cunt and started to scoop out his friend’s release and swallow it down with his equally pink tongue. It was so filthy that your thighs clenched—hard. Sanzu moaned and groaned deeply, high off Mikey’s flavour, and it almost distracted you from Kokonoi’s stuttering hips.

He didn’t pull out from your hot cavern like what Kakucho and Haruchiyo did, but he held your face flush right to his crotch. Forcing you choke on his insane length. You thought it would’ve protruded out the back of your skull.

Haruchiyo chose the right time to fuck into you at a pace that left the table squeaking from the force.

Kokonoi groaned, his pretty white hair falling in his face as he dumped his load unceremoniously down your throat.

“Shit, she tightened up,” Sanzu ran his mouth, panting loudly. “Someone choke this bitch or something—wanna see how she seals herself on my dick.”

Kokonoi pushed you off his cock and you sputtered, heaving violently and spitting his cum back down your chin in throaty gags. Those snake-like eyes were hooded, a Black Mamba waiting to strike. “Messy,” he commented, and swiped his spat-out cum and smeared it around your face. Leaving you sticky with his residue. “Come on, doll. Not one drop wasted, okay?”

As he spoke, he fed you his cum again and you had no choice but to swallow him down. You were positive your stomach was now 85% filled with all their jizz combined.

It was hard to let it go down, but you eased your throat, a feat considering that Sanzu was jackhammering into you like a crazed rabbit. Like your lower body was separated from your upper one, you could segregate two base functions with chilling ease: to be fucked, to be swallowed. The violation of these two orifices shared the same goal—to plunder and penetrate you until you were soiled beyond rescuing.

Sanzu tossed his head back and with a loud groan, he came into you.

More hot spurts. More cocks to take.

Ran came next, antsy after his turn being denied over and over again while Rindou naturally took your mouth.

The same cycle started again. You were now drenched with cum and spit, your throat and pussy loose enough to take both brothers like a champ.

Every man was sated, and you were already on the verge of your fifth (sixth?) orgasm of the night.

“Goddamn, tight ass bitch,” Ran groaned, and Rindou echoed his primal praise.

“So filthy. Glad we made her ours.”

They spoke over you like you did not exist; like you were just a set of holes to get them off. The perversity of this situation burned down your last resolve to hold back your tears and you started crying, not from the brutal throat-fucks, but from how callously those two pairs of lilac eyes drank you in. Pathetic. They were thinking it. She’s such a pathetic little slut.

“Aww, crying already, whore?” Rindou mocked, a pout forming on his lips. “Ran and I are not even done with you yet. Serves you right for getting your holes fucked by the others first. We’re the worst ones.”

A thrill of fear and arousal slithered down your spine. Rindou noticed your eyes sparking back to life and he snorted. “Look at’cha. So pliant. So easy to make a prey. I’m bored.”

“You’re bored?” Ran quipped before the edge of Rindou’s words could dig into your flayed soul. “I’m having the time of my life. Her p-pussy—fuck—”

Rindou slapped you. Hard. You cried out loudly, and he sneered. “I’m disappointed. That’s what you get for losing your focus on me, you useless whore.”

You tried your hardest to nod, but all that earned you was another slap. “Did I say a hole can respond? Did I tell you to shake your head?”

Every line in your body stilled. Ran continued to fuck up into you like a crazed stallion, making you moan and shake violently.

“I tell you how you can act. How you need to act. Not Ran, not the others. Focus on me… and don’t you dare bite my dick off or I’ll break your jaw in half.”

You scrubbed off the anger from your features at his direct warning; loosening your throat, shame burned through you with how easy you submitted to the Haitani brothers that the heat almost felt cool on your exposed skin.

Rindou grunted, taking your submission in stride. He thumbed your tears away, popping his finger into his mouth and sucking off the salt tang of your agony. He continued to use your mouth like a fleshlight while his brother snapped his hips forward, punching his mushroom tip right onto your golden spot. You were so close.

Fuck, fuck. You choked around Rindou’s length, more tears cascading down your cheeks.

He had taken to palming your impressive tits, slapping them and cruelly pinching the puffy nubs until you screamed and thrashed. Ran mimicked his younger brother’s debauchery, using the back of his ring-clad fingers to spank your clit until your thighs started shaking. Fully exhausted, you could do nothing but take their strikes and cocks.

“Easy,” Kakucho murmured, his voice a ray of light in your dark fugue. “She’s almost gone.”

Rindou stared down the length of your body. Your entire face was soaked with spit and cum, your makeup ruined beyond comprehension. Smears of mascara and red lipstick streaked down all the way to your collarbones. The cheap-ass leather dress you wore was bunched up and cracking from the way how your body was almost bent in half. It was also looking worst for wear, speckled with streaks of cum.

Your pussy… Rindou sucked in a huge breath.

He had never seen so much white pooling onto a table, not even during those meth-laced orgies Mikey forced them to participate in. Combined with the slick from your orgasm, every thrust created stringy webs between your thighs and is brother’s waist.

You were freely leaking for them now, and Rindou would be a fool to not take advantage of this situation.

He snarled, gripping onto your locks tighter and fucking up into your mouth with renewed vigor. One more stroke from Ran and you would cum undone.

The younger Haitani acted on it now.

Clamping his fingers around your nose, he continued to fuck up into your mouth as Ran raced towards the finish line of his orgasm. Your body reacted in due time, every synapse firing and alerting you towards danger. The lack of air quickly registered and you thrased violently, strong enough to almost break the table in two. Your screams were smothered by the thrusting of Rindou’s cock, its animalistic pace close to breaking you into two.

Your eyes rolled back into your head. Ran bellowed a curse word that sounded muffled from where you were. The world was starting to turn fuzzy around the edges.

“... good… she’s almost gone…”

Vaguely, you recalled that it was the coldest Autumn night.

The flames flickered in your periphery.

Orgasms were called the little deaths, according to your workmate, Sasha. Le petit mort. The French claimed that the moment after your orgasm when a person hovered between conciousness was akin to death.

Dark spots lined your vision. Warmth filled you up. Bitter liquid poured down your throat and your hips stuttered violently.

Your body lurched forward, as if giving one final heave, as the white light of an orgasm raced through you at the same moment a flash of red warned you to the pain around your throat that never came.

The sound of metal clattered onto the floor. Blood mingled with musk. Your eyes slipped closed, rest encasing you in its feathery soft kisses, finally. Finally.

The coldest Autumn night stretched on.

#Oooooo i don't think I've read anything like this #tonight's bedtime story hehe #yuli.dark.reads #tw//drugging #tw//noncon #tw//degradation #tw//death

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anime-nymph · 2 years

Text

too hard? | ushijima wakatoshi x fem!reader

warnings: 18+! ‼️DARK CONTENT (kinda)‼️ skaterat!ushi, smoking, drinking, drugs, noncon photography, dubcon, manipulation, degradation, peer pressure, exhibitionism, neglect, voyerism, crying (im sure i missed some, just lemme know dhjdjsajs)

wc: 5.7k

a/n: this fic was started for the whorehouse toxic collab (i will link the masterlist when i find it lmao)!! a huge thank you to @toxictobio for letting me use her skaterat au, and @blahkugo @thegetoufather & @arvandus for all giving this thing a read and some feedback!! i love you all sm (•̀ᴗ•́)و

This isn’t your scene, not your kinda hangout.

The scuff of worn vans and polyurethane wheels screaming along concrete is slowly giving you a headache, and your best friend’s ditched you; sharing a blunt with some gross skate rat on the lip of a quarter pipe, laughing obnoxiously as he slaps his dirty snapback on her head.

Gross.

You feel eyes on you before you hear him. “Are you a haunted house?” His voice is smug, dickies so tight your eyes linger on his legs too long, and he’s cocking a hip, smirking down at where you sit on the grass. “‘Cause I’d cry if I came inside you.”

“I’m too sober for this.” You grumble, refusing to look back up at him, ignoring the obnoxious laughter floating from his lips, the cackle of a crowd close by, watching your interaction. Three of them, smoking and drinking at the park bench a few feet behind you.

“I’m Oikawa,” he crouches, wrists on his knees, “but you can call me daddy.”

“Daddy?” A deeper voice scoffs, and you both turn your attention to another man as he approaches, lighting the cig in his mouth with a banged-up zippo, grey hoodie wrapped around his waist, white tank pulled tight across a broad chest. “Thought you preferred ‘Great King’?”

Oikawa narrows his eyes and stands up, clearly not one to be looked down on. “What do you want, Ushiwaka?”

The stranger’s dark hazel eyes meet yours. “Same thing as you, it seems.” He exhales smoke, pops open the leg pocket of his black cargos and slips his zippo inside.

You can’t look away, completely hypnotised. There’s something different about this guy, something darker. Less... juvenile than the others.

Oikawa looks between you and this new guy, let’s out a bitter, “psh,” and storms away, his clique in a hysterical uproar as he yells at them about how you “weren’t that cute anyway.”

Still, your eyes haven’t left the man in front of you. He’s maybe the biggest guy here, his arms thick and corded, his shoulders wide and sturdy, his stare completely piercing.

“C’mon,” he orders, nodding his head towards a group of guys sitting in the back of a pickup in the car park, walking towards them without waiting for you to get up.

A beat passes before you scurry to your feet, smooth down the back of your skirt, and work to catch up with him, “uh, what’s your name?” You manage to ask, staring up at him with hearts in your eyes, feeling a little like a lost puppy.

Desperate, even.

“Ushijima,” he grunts, offering you the cigarette from his lips. You’re about to tell him you don’t smoke, when he nods at your bestie, who’s practically dry jumping the brunette with the pussy bangs from before, still at that quarter pipe. “That your friend?” His eyes are on her, and you can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy.

Like he thinks she’s better than you or something.

“Yeah,” you take the cig between your fingers, press it to your lips, hesitate. God, this is honestly the last thing you wanted to do tonight.

“Don’t like it?” He asks, a finger under your chin tilting your eyes up to meet his.

Your heart flutters, face heating up under his cold gaze. “No, nothing like that.”

He drops his hand from your face, “slowly breathe it into your lungs,” he says, waiting. You follow his instruction nervously, chest swelling until you’ve got a lungful; it burns. “Good, now let it out—“

But next thing you know, you’re coughing; and you feel like an ass because you were trying to be cool, trying to be sexy and edgy like your bestie, who’s— you spare a glance over at her— got her top off? And there’s another guy pawing at her tits from behind, both men digging their meaty little hands into her skin.

But here you are, bent at the waist, tears in your eyes as you will yourself to stop fucking coughing.

He takes the cig and drops it, worn sneakers snuffing it out as you do your best to slow the pounding of your heart. “Not a smoker?” He asks, either unbothered by the show your best friend is putting on for the entire skate park, or pretending not to care.

“I-is it that obvious?” You ask when you finally catch your breath, fingers wiping the tears at your bottom lashes, wary of your mascara.

“Are you legal?” That severe edge to his eyes is back, chin up as he looks down his nose at you.

“Huh?”

“You look young.”

You start to splutter a bit, “n-no, I’m in college, I swear, I’m just—“

“Not usually like this?” It's mocking, a little cutting, even. He eyes you off for a moment, then keeps on towards the parking lot. “Coming?” he tosses over his shoulder when you don’t follow.

You clench your jaw, his disinterest stinging your pride. You’re entirely too good for these douchebags: too smart, too pretty, too rich. And if this man— this Ushijima— hadn’t come along, you’d probably be pulling your bestie away from those two guys, begging her to take you home.

But your dainty tennis shoes pad along the grass until you’re falling into step next to him, heart swelling when he gives you a little once-over and places his hand on your shoulder. It slides to the back of your neck and squeezes, his other hand coming up to your face as he crouches a little to look into your eyes.

“You’re pretty,” he mumbles, maybe to himself, a thumb swiping at a rogue tear by your cheekbone. “And you’re still cute when you’re crying,” a smirk grows in his face, and he takes that thumb into his mouth.

Before you can react, he stands, tugging you against his side and walking you towards the pickup. A sick sense of accomplishment swirls through your stomach, rages like pride, and has you biting your lip to suppress a smile.

“Miracle Boy!” A tall redhead calls, standing up in the back of the sleek, black truck, arms spread out by his sides. “Where’d ya get to?” More heads turn and look at him, at you.

“Or should we say ‘who’?” Someone else asks when you’re mere feet away, his sharp brown eyes glued to you.

Ushijima looks pointedly down at you, a brow raised. It’s then that you realise you didn’t even tell him your name, just ran off with the big guy with minimal invitation.

Suddenly your mouth feels dry; you lick your lips and introduce yourself shyly, the toe of one of your shoes scuffing nervously against the bitumen.

There’s a chorus of nice, and hi, and woof woof, and some introductions, but you’re too wary of the fact that there are no other girls. All guys. Five of them; six including Ushijima.

The lanky redhead— Tendou— calls your name, “I hope you like sambuca,” he says, shaking the bottle. It’s a one litre Smirnoff, but the liquid inside is blue. “It’s my special recipe.”

Ushijima moves his hands to your hips, steps behind you, “going up?” He asks, voice low and deep in your ear.

“Y-yeah,” you barely manage, as two of them —Semi and Taichi— shuffle to accomodate you. Moments later, you’re hoisted up easily, the two boys grabbing a hand each, not giving you a chance to hold the back of your skirt down as you do your best to keep your knees together, bending them to lift your feet over the lip of the tray.

“Ooh, you smell expensive,” Tendou says, grabbing you by the elbow and yanking you towards him, offering you his spot by the back window. “What is that?” He asks, the grin on his face a little off-putting.

“Ah, it’s—“ you start, only to be distracted by Ushijima’s arrival in the back of the truck, the sheer size of him causing the whole thing to jerk and wobble.

His dark eyes fall on you— the rest of the gang shuffling so the space by the back window is bigger—holding out a hand. As soon as you grab it, he pulls you to him, spins you, and tugs you down into his lap as he sits cross-legged.

Tendou plants himself next to you, deviant grin on his face when Ushijima takes the bottle from his hand and has a swig of the special recipe. “It’s stronger than your last batch.” He observes, but there’s no hiss to indicate the statement’s true.

Just drinks it like it’s water.

“I’m trying to perfect it,” Tendou almost sings, slotted eyes falling on you.

“I’ve got beers, Wakatoshi,” Semi offers, elbowing his cooler bag.

“And Goshiki got some weed from Suna earlier,” the ginger in the beanie grins meanly, ruffling the hair of the smaller guy next to him.

“Shirabu, stop it!” Goshiki’s face is red from his nose to the tips of his ears as he swats away the other guy’s hand.

“Yeah, even I gotta admit that was pretty ballsy,” Tendou laughs, taking a drink— and hissing with squinted eyes— when Ushijima gives the bottle back. “He was taking that chick’s shirt off when you went over, right? Surprised you didn’t cum in your pants then and there.”

Are they... are they talking about your best friend?

“Yeah, yeah, then Miya joined in on her when he was digging in his bag for the weed,” Semi laughs, head thrown back.

Conversation about her promiscuity continues, but you’ve bristled, eyes going down to your white tennis shoes, mortified for her. You want to defend her honour, get mad at the group of them on her behalf, but your voice is in your throat, and they’re… well, they’re not wrong.

Ushijima presses forward, his chest at your back, chin resting on your shoulder, lips at your ear, “are they bothering you?” He asks, his voice a deep, breathy whisper against the shell, sending a hazy shiver down your spine. His hands find your hips, fingers drawing slowly up to your bent knees, butterflies swirling in your core; how can hands be so damn big?

He shifts his hands back down a little, squeezes the flesh there. Oh, right, his question.

You turn your head to look at him, only to meet those dark, sharp eyes and melt. Your heart hammers rudely in your chest and you swallow hard, “uh, no,” you lie, and he knows it.

“No?” He presses, hands curling up and under your knees, “are you sure?” His voice is soft, and so is the barely-there pressure he’s putting on your legs, threatening to open them to his friends.

A shiver of anxiety shoots into your stomach as you slowly shake your head ‘no’, eyes so wide they start to water. He chuckles then, the pressure leaving your legs, but his hands lingering there.

Your name is called from the other side, Tendou holding his bottle of booze out for you to take. “Here, have some,” he offers, smile not quite reaching his eyes.

Your hesitation is noticed by everyone.

“It’s okay,” Ushijima breathes in your ear, “it won’t kill you,” he assures you. You feel all eyes on you, the pressure to perform an itch only taking the bottle can scratch.

So you do.

You bring it to your lips after giving Ushijima one last glance, and tip the bottle back. First little mouthful makes you want to cough, but the pressure has you swallowing that down with the almost burning anise flavour tickling your tongue.

You're about to give the bottle back when a hand stops you from taking the bottle from your lips, keeping the base of it up in the air. "A little more, hmm?" Tendou offers, brows raised.

"You can take it," Ushijima adds, fingers rubbing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

So you do.

More heat slides down your throat as you take another mouthful, Ushijima squeezing you harder, Tendou raising the base of the bottle higher. The other guys are cheering, drinking their own drinks, as you take one final sip and push the bottle away.

"Good girl!" Tendou cheers, downing his own shot.

You're hissing, tears gathering on your lashes at just how strong that shit is, but before you can say or do anything, one of Ushijima's hands is at your jaw, angling your head towards his, his mouth capturing yours.

His tongue is hot, wet, slimy against your own, the licorice taste lessening as he drinks it from your mouth, your brain fuzzy with how domineering the kiss is, how hard he's gripping your jaw. You're about to twist in his lap, hands reaching for his face, when he pulls away, eyes on yours, before they shift past you and he leans back.

"I'll take a beer," he says to Semi, hand leaving your jaw to reach towards him.

Your head is swimming— either with confusion, or the alcohol you’ve just ingested— but you find that the longer you sit there in Ushijima’s lap, the less confidence you have in his attraction for you. You become an afterthought, a leg warmer.

He doesn’t touch you, he doesn’t kiss you. He doesn’t even acknowledge you.

So when Tendou gives you the attention you’re craving from the bigger man— another sip of his sambuca, some Doritos from his party packet— you soak it up.

It’s not too much later— or is it?— that you’re swaying, giggling with Tendou about how blue his tongue is, making him take a picture of yours to prove yours is just as blue.

“It is!” You nearly squeal, wriggling in Ushijima’s lap to get a better look at the picture.

Despite your apparent closeness with Tendou, Ushijima keeps you on his thick thighs; doesn’t let you wander too far for too long, before those large, large hands are wrapping around your waist, an arm, your hips, and tugging you back to safety.

Goshiki’s passing around a blunt, and when Ushijima takes it, his lips go to your ear, “open your mouth,” he orders, fingers tugging your hair into complying. He sucks it deep, then presses his lips to yours for the second time tonight, his tongue prying your lips open.

“Open your mouth and suck it in,” Tendou urges, cold, spindly fingers digging into your thigh, lips at your ear.

You choke immediately. The smoke is a painful burn and has you in tears almost instantly, but you’re more concerned with how the big man perceives you, scared you’re not enough for him, that you’re too lame to be the girl he’s picked to sit in his lap.

“S-S-sorry Ushi—” you’re crying, back to Tendou, fingers pulling at Ushijima’s tee as you croak, your whole chest burning. He pulls your hair, tugging you back to look down into your watery eyes, smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Cute,” he says, eyes moving past you. “See? Told you,” your head is pulled sideways, eyes met with the piercing black-brown gaze of the redhead you’ve been giggling with for the past forty-five minutes.

“Mmm,” the redhead grins, “you sure can pick ‘em, Miracle Boy,”

Everything feels just a little hazy, your body a little heavy, a little… slow, “Wakatoshi, show us,” comes a call from your left, and your face is jerked their way, a low whistle leaving the lips of Semi. “Not wrong,” he grins, side-eyeing Taichi, slapping him a low-5.

“They like you, too,” Ushijima whispers in your ear, breath hot, almost a purr, “how does that feel, hm?” Sick satisfaction starts to bloom across your skin, settles in your chest and trickles slowly down to your core, has you pressing your thighs together.

The snarky ginger doesn’t let the movement slide, “wow, you did pick a good one tonight, Wakatoshi,” he almost cackles, “bet she’s all sloppy from the praise.”

“Hey, none of that,” Tendou scolds, taking the heat from you as you try and process why he’s right. Your underwear is impossibly wet, and if you focus enough, you’re sure you can even smell it. The thought has you clamping your legs together even tighter, your face and ears burning ridiculously hot with shame.

“You like it,” Ushijima says, those hands on your waist, fingers splaying across your tummy, fingertips tickling dangerously close to your core. “Don’t you?”

Somehow he makes you forget about the others, his deep, deep voice hypnotic, those big, big hands distracting.

“Wanna be good,” you mumble, wriggling in his hold so you’re facing him, wiping your tacky tears with the back of a hand before settling both on his shoulders.

“I can tell,” he straightens his legs and you adjust accordingly, straddling him, legs wide over his thick thighs, “but how far will you go?”

He’s too hot, too GQ, too perfect. Strong jaw, sharp eyes, thick brows— handsome, in the most devastating way. A god among men, and he’s letting you sit with him? Letting you touch him?

He chose you?

Wait, what was he saying?

He kisses you, hands pressing against you roughly as he draws the breath from your lungs and crunches your sweater up beneath your bra. It’s intoxicating, the way his tongue moves against yours, how warm he is against you.

His hands move you: raise your hips, curve your lower back, tug up your skirt a little. You protest some then— the cool night air hitting your thighs and ass— but he swallows your foggy little moans, distracts you with his teeth pulling at your bottom lip.

Fingertips dig into the half exposed flesh of your ass, “you wanna be good?” His voice is cracking, thick with breathlessness from the kiss. Your kiss.

“Mhm, yeah,” you nod, eyes half-lidded, the butterflies in your tummy multiplying and growing and exploding.

“Yeah?” He hums, tilting his head as he regards you, “you’re sure?”

“Mmm,” you nod, wriggling your ass, unaware of the show you’re giving the rest of the boys.

“Promise?” He presses again, pulling your panties between your cheeks and tugging up sharply.

“Ah, yeah!” You keen, face falling onto his shoulder, fingers digging into his flesh as he pleasures you with your own underwear. Thick fingers loop in the elastic waist and tug down, fully exposing you to the night air.

And you hear a distinct click.

A memory flashes through your hazy brain, Tendou taking a picture of your tongue—

“You wanna impress me, pretty girl?” Ushijima asks, before you can think too hard on it; his teeth at your earlobe, low baritone voice sending shivers through your bones. His fingers knead the globes of your ass, the tips dangerously close to your centre, and you want nothing more than to melt into him. “Uh-ah, hips up,” he corrects you lowly when you relax against him.

“S-sorry…” you mumble, gaining a chuckle in return.

“Shh,” he soothes, one of his hands leaving your ass to snake beneath you, fingers sliding against your messy lips. You’re trembling as you try and get closer, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your lips to his ear.

His fingers are thick and lazy as they explore you, and your legs shake with the effort of keeping your ass in the air. But he encourages you with soft words, his voice blocking out any outside noises; even that persistent click, click, click, you think you keep hearing.

You’re embarrassingly close to orgasm when he stops his fingers, “maybe we should head somewhere a little more private,” and it’s said louder than anything he’s whispered to you tonight, his voice carrying and mean, urges you to pull away from him a little and clears the fog of arousal and too-strong alcohol.

Mortification and panic follow the chuckles and snorts of contained laughter when you toss a look over your shoulder and remember where you are, tears immediately filling your eyes. You collapse onto Ushijima’s thighs and push away from his chest, anger and betrayal squeezing your stomach, threatening to bubble up and spill from your trembling lips.

“Don’t be upset,” Tendou interjects, leaning towards you, a little too close for comfort. “It’d be a real shame if Wakatoshi didn’t share you with us, wouldn’t it? Look, little Tsutomu’s already about to cream his jeans,” he says placatingly, urging you to turn your teary gaze his way. Sure enough, Goshiki’s fully flushed, both hands pressing against his crotch, hiding his bulge from you with a guilty look on his face.

“I bet,” Ushijima leans closer to you, hands on your waist, “you could make him cum without even touching him.”

“Ooh, the power,” Tendou adds, long fingers petting your hair gently.

You sniffle, level a glare with Ushijima, “Y-you tricked me,” you mumble through pouty lips.

He smiles, “I’m not nice, but I’m good,” he gets in close, lips ghosting yours, backing up his words by sliding those strong, precise fingers up your shirt, toying with your hard nipples over your bra. “You wanna feel good?”

“Yes,” you arch into him, eyes sliding shut instantly. “I wanna feel good,”

He kisses you slowly, all tongue and teeth, grinds up against you teasingly, leaving you wanting, “you mind being watched?”

Those sharp eyes challenge you, warn you. His forehead presses against yours, noses squishing together almost tenderly, the juxtaposition of his actions and words both jarring and confusing.

“To be fair,” Tendou starts softly, sliding closer to Ushijima, “we’ve already seen it all,” his eyes follow his fingers as they draw down your thigh. “Wouldn't be too nice to leave us all hanging, would it?”

You toss a look at Tsutomu and Shirabu over your left shoulder, Semi and Taichi over your right, “you… wanna watch?” You ask, eyes still on Taichi.

His own go wide, glance over to Semi, then past you to Ushijima, back to you, “I— uh, yeah,” then he drops your gaze, presses his thighs together.

“And you?” Tsutomu jumps when you direct the words at him, hands pressing down harder on his bulge, a groan tearing from his throat as his eyes snap shut, socked toes curl.

You don’t get to wait for an answer— not that you need it— Ushijima’s lips pressing to your exposed neck; his hands push your shirt up as his tongue tastes your skin, melting you into him, a fresh wave of slick rolling from your neglected cunt.

It’s freeing, letting go. Your hands raise at his silent prompting, sweater tugged over your head and tossed somewhere, his huge hands crowding your back, his mouth latching onto a tit through your little lacy bra.

A shudder rolls through you, head falling back with a whine, and you hear another groan behind you— the telltale sound of Tsutomu— some light chuckling and murmuring from the other boys.

God, you’re doing it.

You’re really gonna let this man fuck you in front of his friends; the very thing you were so disgusted to see your best friend doing.

And Ushijima’s so shameless about it, licking and sucking at your skin like a man starved, the slurping loud and erotic as he covers every inch of your neck, your shoulders, unclipping your bra and assaulting your chest.

“U-Ushi…” your fingers are tangled in his hair, tearing and tugging, his own hands pulling you closer in response, a slow growl rumbling through his chest as he hungrily sucks a hard kiss-mark into the fat of your breast. “Hurry up,” you frown, tugging him away from your chest by the hair, pressing your lips to his, “‘m really ready,” you mumble, feeling so wet it’s uncomfortable, “promise,”

“Oh, baby,” Tendou coos, fiddling with some papers, rolling something up between nimble fingers, “I promise you’re not,” he giggles, shoulders shaking with the force of it.

“Turn around,” Ushijima urges, large hands dwarfing your hips.

Your hands cover your naked breasts as he turns you, four pairs of eyes ogling your form shamelessly as they drink their alcohol and smoke their cigarettes.

“B-but—“ you whimper, large eyes staring at Ushijima as he positions you between his spread legs. “I wanna look at you,”

“You will,” he says lowly, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “You’ll get your reward… but you need to work for it.”

“That, and he’s gotta stretch you out properly,” Shirabu mumbles, catching your attention. The rest of the boys chuckle nervously at that, and a hand is pressing between your shoulder blades, urging you forward.

“Hands and knees,” Ushijima orders, and before you can really think about it, you’re letting go of your breasts and lurching forward— almost barreling into Tsutomu’s outstretched legs— Ushijima’s big hands lifting your hips and positioning you how he wants you.

Shame flows through your veins, your whole body growing impossibly hotter, yet still buzzing with excitement. A swift look to your left would have you practically staring into Semi’s eyes, if his own weren’t currently glued to your swinging tits.

You’re about to turn back and say something to Ushijima when two fingers slide into you, sending your eyes wide, and tearing a yelp from deep in your throat. So deep, you think, unable to compute anything else, numbing mind drowning in the pleasure, in just how long and thick his fingers are.

Your elbows buckle when he enters a third finger, your upper body collapsing against the cool metal of the tray, face resting against your forearms as you whimper and moan, Ushijima’s free hand grips your hip as you start to wriggle and press back into him.

“She’s doing so well,” Tendou coos, his voice close. You look up in time to watch the redhead flip your skirt up, exposing your ass and hips to the cool night air.

“Don’t touch her, Satori.” Ushijima grunts, voice low and clipped.

“I didn’t touch her skin, Waka-chan, it was her skirt,” he laughs airily, getting close to Goshiki and squeezing his ass between the younger man and his cooler. “Only children don’t know how to share, right, Tsutomu?”

But he can’t take his eyes off you, and as soon as your watery gaze meets his, he reddens.

“Say his name,” Tendou whispers, leaning closer to you, impish grin growing.

“Sh-shut up, Tendou—”

“He’ll cum—”

“Tendou!” He gawks, swiping at the taller man, narrowly missing his shoulder.

Something changes, then; curiosity and the alcohol and the stimulation warping your brain, your subconscious disregarding that superego it’s clinged so strongly to. “Tsutomu…” you moan, biting your lip, blinking your lashes up at him.

He gasps and opens his mouth, but Ushijima mustn't've liked his name slipping from your lips, because he grips your hip and ups his pace, a wanton howl spilling up your throat, eyes rolling.

“Oh fuck,” you breathe, ragged, burying your face in your arms again, before he hits too deep and you’re pushing back up to gasp for air. “N-no, Ushi— I’m—”

It feels so good — too good, even. He’s pulling sounds so dirty and pornographic from you, that you don’t even feel like yourself; but the best part is, you don’t even care. Ushijima quirks his fingers and your orgasm shoots through you like a freight train, your pussy clenching and squelching as he works you through it, your lips trembling as you whimper and drool all over your arms.

There’s talking between the guys, but your ears are ringing, your ability to focus completely unravelled, your whole being focused on revelling in the high of your orgasm. Until you’re pulled back up into Ushijima’s lap.

“Good girl,” he breathes, rocking his clothed cock against your messy thighs. “You did so, so well,” he praises you, large, wet hand squeezing your cheeks together and pulling you in for a kiss.

You’re absolutely shameless from then on out, pawing at him, sucking lewdly on his tongue. If getting raunchy and handsy is a turn-on for him, it’s something you’re willing to do.

“Hurry up,” you pant against his mouth, fingers tangling in his hair. “Wanna fuck,”

He chuckles, sends a look over your shoulder to Tendou, “here?” He asks, deep golden eyes back on yours.

You keen back in affirmation, begin to push the singlet up and over his abs, his pecks, “Take this off.”

“You sure you don’t wanna go in the truck?”

You pout then, “you don’t... want me?”

That chiselled jaw clenches, he sucks his teeth.

Seconds later, he reaches between the two of you to unzip his pants and pulls his cock out, “Hips up,” he orders, one hand fisting the biggest dick you’ve ever seen, the other reaching for your pussy, fingers dipping into you and smearing your essence over his cockhead.

You blink at him, “b-but… a condom—”

“A condom?” Tendou laughs, sitting back in his original spot, three inches from Ushijima, phone in his hand. “You think this man wants to wear a condom?”

“Should we stop?” Ushijima asks, eyes regarding you cooly. Too cooly.

“N-no,” you shake your head, raise your hips and position yourself over him. There’s a bit of an ache in your heart trying to push its way through to your brain, but you squash it down, the need to be wanted outweighing any and everything else right now.

“You’re so, so pretty like this,” Ushijima praises you, littering your chest with kisses, pulling a nipple into his mouth and sucking.

It momentarily distracts you from the unimaginable stretch his cock causes as you slowly sink onto him, and — as Tendou kindly points out — you’re doing so well taking his cock, until it just. Keeps. Going.

“It’s… that’s way too deep,” you gasp, unable to sit up straight, your smaller frame collapsing against his broad chest as tears well up in your eyes.

“Almost,” he breathes into the shell of your ear, voice deep and husky.

But you feel like he’s in your stomach, pushing his way up to your diaphragm; the pleasure’s a dull throb beneath the burning ache of taking something far too fucking large inside you. “Ow…” you groan, nails digging into his tanned skin, drool slipping from your lips, tears from your eyes. “Is it… in?” You whine when he stops moving.

He only hums in response, and you relax some, but then he flexes his hips, and you yelp as he sinks in even deeper. “So tight,” he hisses.

Glassy eyes watch as he groans and tosses his head back, exposing that thick neck and Adam’s apple to your drooling lips, your gnawing teeth. It’s all you can do to stop from crying— tasting and nipping at his sweaty, salty skin— and he doesn’t seem to hate it, if his low growl is anything to go by.

Despite what your body probably needs, he doesn’t give you time to adjust to his size.

“Shit,” he gasps, those huge hands grabbing your ass, squeezing your flesh, then lifting you and slamming you back down on his cock.

“Ah!” You yelp, scrambling now, nails scratching along taught, clammy skin, trying to find something, anything, to hold onto.

But he’s got you, thick arms circling your body, a hand at the base of your neck, the other pushing on your lower back, pressing you closer to him. It’s almost suffocating; you can’t move, can’t even breathe, but it’s so good.

You’re a doll, a puppet holding onto him and accepting everything he’s giving you. Every thrust, every squeeze of his arms; in the back of your brain you’re registering just how painful his fingertips are, just how deep they’re pressing into your flesh. And it makes you proud, the thought of him marking you, the idea of looking into the mirror tomorrow and seeing his fingerprints bruised into your skin.

You’re pulled out of your lull by his breath at your ear, “Say my name,” he whispers, seated deep inside you.

“Ushi—“

“Wakatoshi,” he corrects you, tugging at your hair so you meet his gaze.

“W-Wakatoshi,” you’re coy, matching his whisper, watery eyes looking into his. They’re pretty, you think, with flecks of gold and green and copper. Earthy.

He chuckles, “thanks,” then he’s pulling you to meet his lips. “Gonna cum deep inside you,” he promises, licking your teeth, using his own to pull at your bottom lip. “You’ll never be able to forget me.”

All you can do is groan, nod frantically, beg for it.

Your moans are a mixture of his name, of yes, of please, as he bounces you on his cock, as he kisses you, sucks at your skin, drags his teeth along it. It’s intoxicating, your world spinning as you near the edge of release, as he thrusts into you, all wet slaps and needy grunts.

He cums before you can, but fucks you through his own release. The warmth, the fullness, his lips cursing your name against your ear, have you coming undone around him. He swears again as you tighten up, those lethal fingers holding you prisoner as you come down from your orgasmic high, as the world around you spins.

You’re exhausted then, slumping against him, eyelids feeling more than heavy. Voices mumur and whisper behind you, Ushijima’s chest a low rumble of his own words. Then you’re moving, more than two hands on you, sitting you up straighter.

A second wind has you jerking away, panic lacing your bones. But then something big and warm is being pulled over your head, Ushijima helping you pull your head through soft cotton, your arms through too-big sleeves.

“Shh, sleep.” He mumbles, and it’s only then that you realise it’s the hoodie he had wrapped around his waist when you first met him. It’s huge, covering more than your actual outfit from this evening, you realise as he curls you up in his lap, pulls the hood up and over your head, gets you comfortable.

As you wriggle against him, covered in his scent, in his warmth, you begin to register how sticky you feel between your legs, the thought of his thick cum seeping out of you oddly satisfying. He wraps an arm around you, cradling you like something precious.

“She’s good,” you hear Ushijima mumble as your eyelids grow heavy again.

“Out of ten?” You think it’s Tendou.

“Hmm…” You fight to stay awake, to hear his answer. “We’ll make final decisions when we watch the playback.”

Vague confusion passes through you, before you finally fall asleep.

You’re going to hate yourself in the morning.

#been desperately searching this #this is the ushi i needed tofay #today #god i love him #him specifically #leese ik you arent around on this one anymore but this man right here ruined me for canon ushi #yuli.dark.reads #tw//dubcon #tw//drugs #tw//voyeurism #tw//degradation #tw//noncon filming

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