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grimc-mstain · 1 month ago

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rabbit hearted

|| michael kaiser x reader || E/18+ || a wolf and a rabbit || wc: 6.6k || ao3 ||

After a game, during a much-needed night at the bar, Bastard München muses on what animal each player embodies. The answer that the team decides on for you is rather unfortunate. And even more unfortunate is that Kaiser takes such a liking to your assignment.

minors, antis and ageless blogs dni

notes: wow. wrote this in an afternoon in a complete, lust-filled haze. michael kaiser the things you do to me. this is truly just smut. insane smut with a relatively mean kaiser who is soft, somewhere in there. god help you and reader. enjoy loves 🩷

CWs: player reader, nonbinary reader with afab anatomy, reader referred to with they/them pronouns, clit/dick are used interchangeably for reader, dubcon (kinda), minor Oliver/reader, reader smokes and drinks, predator/prey (lightly), degradation (no derogatory terms used), squirting, PIV sex, kaiser is mean

It starts during a normal night of drinking.

You're out with the team— you usually abstain, but tonight feels different. After a hard-earned win, Bastard München is squirrely and more lively than normal. You can feel the electric energy in the air as the lot of you settle into your favored bar.

Kaiser is, as usual, at the epicenter with you against his side.

Kaiser doesn't drink often— the smell of ale and liquor bothers him usually. But when he does, he's a bit of a lightweight.

Tonight, Kaiser nurses his third stein with flushed cheeks. He'd taken a shot of smooth vodka with you earlier, too.

You don't fare much better than him, listing into his side after your first few drinks. He's warm, and the German winter that swirls outside is so, so cold. He wraps an arm around your shoulder, rubbing mindless circles over your jacket.

It's Gagamaru, the usually quiet goalie, who presents the question that fundamentally alters your evening.

"If you were an animal," he slurs, "Which one would you be?"

The table chatters immediately; Kaiser is silent above you.

"Ness would be a dog," Isagi, another lightweight, who has spent the last ten minutes with his head lowered to the table, says. "That one’s easy."

"Don’t say it like that," Ness whines from your other side, squirming. Isagi isn't wrong and everyone at the table knows that. Someone claps Ness on his back.

"Kurona... a shark," you yawn. "like one of those nurse ones, that's nice and likes to be petted."

The table busts out in laughter, but no one disagrees. Kurona simply takes a sip of his drink, nodding amicably twice.

It’s decided that Isagi is a panther, Hiori is a leopard seal, and Gesner is a dingo. Grim is a falcon.

"What would you be, Kaiser?" It's Yukimiya who asks. He’s a heavyweight, surprisingly, who has drunk more than the rest of the table but looks perfectly put together, still. Fucking rude.

Kaiser, who has remained notably silent the entire conversation, hums. Contemplative in a way that makes your stomach swoop. A quiet Kaiser is a dangerous Kaiser.

"A wolf, probably." he leans back in the booth. "Or a big cat."

"like a lion?" Isagi slurs. He needs water badly, you think. You wish you were within yourself enough to fetch some for him. “You’re way more of a wolf.”

"Sure, yeah." Kaiser smiles, all gleaming teeth. He does look like a predator like this, you think. Especially with how you’ve, somehow, become nestled against his shoulder, beneath him, keenly aware of his canines and their sharp points. It’s been almost a week since your last fuck, and therefore the marks he'd left during your last bedding have all but faded, but the knowledge of the damage they can inflict is still there.

You still remember the feeling of them. The way Kaiser sometimes draws blood and looks pleased about it.

"What about me?" you ask, shifting closer. Kaiser’s arm loops lower, going around your waist. His body is filled with curled tension.

Kaiser looks down at you, still smiling. It makes your stomach drop all over again. His fingers dig into your ribs and a small sound bubbles up your throat, against your will. It’s a frail, warbling sound. The bar is loud enough that only Kaiser and you can hear it, but it still makes your cheeks hot all the same.

When you attempt to duck and hide your face in the fabric of his shirt, Kaiser winds his hand into the hair at the base of your skull and tugs. It keeps your face up; he won't allow you to hide.

"I think," Kaiser licks his teeth, tilting his head. The long, azure tails of his hair fall off his shoulder. "You’re just a little rabbit."

"... A bunny?" you ask, incredulous. You're not a fucking rabbit.

"Mhm," Kaiser pulls your hair again. "Don't you agree?"

"Absolutely not," you snap, embarrassed. Everyone at the table gets something of a predatory animal and you get shafted with a fucking bunny?! "Take it back."

"Nope." Kaiser pops the 'p' and pats your head with a little too much force. Your brain rattles around in your skull. "You're just a little bunny rabbit at the end of the day."

"No, I am not—!"

"I have to agree," Hiori says. The traitor, with his own sharp glint in his gaze, sighs dreamily. "Aren't ya' a lucky one, Kaiser."

"Don’t say it like that." you stutter over your words. "I'm not—!"

"Nah, you are," it's Gesner, this time, nodding and crossing his arms over his chest. "You run around like one too."

"Um," Ness says from beside you. "You a-are a bit like a rabbit, don't you think?"

"You’re cute like one too." Kaiser pinches your cheeks and shakes your head with his grip.

"No," you refuse again, drawing back from your wolfish tormentor. "Nuh-uh, nope, never. I'm leaving. Bye."

"See!" Gesner laughs. "Running off, just like a cornered rabbit!"

"I hate all of you." You snap, crawling over Ness and Kurona without a care in the world. You need to get out of this fucking booth—

Kaiser grabs your ankle and yanks.

It puts you off balance, and you fall into Ness’s lap. Like, fully. Face pressed between his legs.

You both squeak.

"Fuck off—!" You kick Kaiser in the gut, who doubles over, and you scramble from the booth.

You sway as you right yourself, stumbling through the crowded bar.

You're not a fucking bunny.

...

You end up outside, having bummed a cigarette from a beautiful woman who lit it for you. It balms your ego instantly, and the nicotine buzzing in your skull makes your humiliating animal assignment seem less important.

You consider going home. Your apartment is within walking distance, but it is cold. You could take a taxi and put yourself on ‘do not disturb’ so you don't have to deal with any of the inevitable teasing texts from your teammates.

And, it would allow you to ignore Kaiser.

You know him well. Well enough that the idea of you being a cute bunny rabbit is going to have you and your cunt infirmed for some amount of time if he is left to his own devices. Locking your door— no, barricading your door, because that fucker has a key to your apartment somehow, is your best option to save the health and safety of your dick.

You exhale a cloud of smoke that gets carried away by the biting wind. You shiver.

"Look at this," A voice comes from down the road. You grimace. You’d know that rolling, low drawl anywhere.

Uber’s Oliver Aiku— for fuck's sake— you cannot catch a break. You should've figured that he and the rest of his team would appear, given Bastard München beat them earlier in the day. They walk in a gaggle toward the bar with Oliver at the helm.

"Hey," You take another drag, remaining casual because you value your sanity. "All of Bastard is in there. I'd turn back if you want to keep the peace and avoid a bar fight."

"Aw," Oliver clicks his tongue as he nears; the team is already filtering inside. their funeral. "Don’t think we can handle it?"

"Not at all." You shake your head with a sigh.

Oliver hums and stays outside, sidling up next to you and taking his own pack of cigarettes out. He lights up beside you and exhales his first puff with a sigh.

"Where's your keeper?" Oliver asks.

"Inside.” You huff. "And— he's not my fucking keeper."

"Yet, you knew exactly who I meant."

"Because I have common sense— and I know how... we are perceived."

"And is that perception... not entirely correct?"

"We’re just fucking." You take another drag. This cigarette is burning way too long, dammit. You should've hailed a taxi. "That's all."

"You exclusive?"

"You're a dog." You spit, hoping there's enough venom behind your words to keep him at bay. "And... we haven't spoken about it."

"How interesting." Oliver slides a little closer.

You move a step away. "Keep your distance. He bites."

"Excuse me for trespassing." Oliver holds his cigarette between his lips and holds his hands up in what feels like a false surrender. "And for pursuing a fling."

"There are other prospects."

"Certainly." Oliver cocks his head to the bar behind him that has absolutely gotten louder since Ubers entered. "But you've banned me from your favored pub."

"Out of concern for your safety."

"So, you care about me then?"

"Twisting my words..." You laugh and throw your cigarette on the ground. You stamp it out with the bottom of your shoe. "Go in, I don't care. Find another body."

"Ouch." Oliver laughs, running a hand through his hair. His gaze is warm and piercing all at once.

You begin to walk away, in the direction of your apartment, when the door to the bar swings open rather dramatically.

Fuck— you took too long. You walk a little faster, you have to—

"There you are," It's Kaiser because, of course, it is. He grabs your shoulder and yanks you back. He wraps himself around you from behind, his blue-tipped bangs tickling your cheek. You refuse to look at him and see the glare that he's undoubtedly shooting at Oliver. Kaiser presses his lips to your cheek. "I thought I lost you."

"Piss off. I'm going home."

"Without me?"

"Yes." You try to pull away from him, but Kaiser is so much stronger than he looks (and he doesn’t look weak to begin with). He keeps you in place with an arm looped around your waist.

Oliver watches you both with blown pupils.

"'Just fucking', huh?" Oliver laughs then, low and forbidding.

Kaiser goes stiff behind you. You're fucked.

"Is that what they said?" Kaiser says next to your ear. You pull away harder, more frantically, but he doesn't yield.

"Yup, and it's the truth!" You say, far too chipper. "Now, let me go, so I can go home, drink some water, and go to bed."

"Nope." Kaiser cuts you off. "Not alone, little rabbit."

"I hate you."

"I'm sure," Kaiser smiles against your cheek, wolfish and unrelenting.

He drags you away, Oliver chuckling at the door of the bar. You despise them both.

...

Kaiser has you pressed against the door to your apartment (which he unlocked with that stupid key of his— you really should take that away from him—) the moment you enter. You're pressed, front flush to the wood with your cheek pressed to the side. Kaiser is leering at you like a wolf, like a big cat that needs you as a meal.

You gulp.

"You should know better," He practically croons. He's pressed against your back, already hard against your ass. "But, I suppose that I shouldn't expect all that much intellect out of a little bunny, should I?"

"Piss off." your voice barely squeezes out.

Kaiser's hands slip to your front, undoing the button of your pants and the zipper of your fly. You squirm.

"No," You tell him, "No, no, don't, wait—"

"I was very patient at the bar," Kaiser noses into your cheek. "I wanted to fuck you in the bathroom there, you know. I could've made sure the whole team knows whose you are."

"I think they already— do—!" Your voice arcs as he bites down on your neck, on an old, yellowing bruise he left the last time he had you like this.

"Do they?" Kaiser sucks at the skin, blooming a mark there, surely. "That Uber's defender seemed pretty keen on you."

"He's a whore."

"And you're mine." Kaiser tugs you by your hair, forcing your neck into a painful curve.

His gaze is cutting. All sharp edges and blue thorns. You've offended him, somehow, by doing nothing. Now you'll reap what you've sewn.

(Part of you, the part that, perhaps, is more rabbit-like than the rest of you, knew that this is where you'd end up. It wanted this. Wanted to feel squeezed and pressed and small like a little prey animal at the hands of a man who can't be described as anything less than a canid predator.)

Kaiser’s hand dips into the front of your panties, the stupid cotton kind you try to avoid wearing when you know you're going to be fucked.

"Oh look," Kaiser says, sing-song, "You're soaked."

"Fuck— you—!" You kick back at him.

"A little bunny is so predictable," Kaiser sighs, wistful, rolling the pearl of your clit. "You just need to be fucked, don't you?"

"No—"

"Don’t lie," Kaiser shoves your pants down to your thighs. "You’re not very good at it, anyway."

"I hate you—"

"Keep lying and I'll make this worse for you." Kaiser reminds.

It's always like this. The push and pull, the tugging, and the resistance. You both get off on it. You feel dizzy with arousal, with shame, with pent-up rage and indigence.

A sound bubbles up from your throat as he spins you. Still against the door, with your back to it now. Your panties are hardly covering your cunt down, the thatch of hair around it peeking out.

And your wolf drops to his knees with a hungry smile. He pulls off your pants and presses his lips to the wet spot on your panties.

"These are cute," he hums. They are, there's a little bow in the middle, periwinkle, with light lace around the thighs. "All for me?"

"N—No—"

"Lying, lying, lying, little rabbit."

He licks a stripe over your cunt, over the soaked cotton. Your hips jolt, and he presses them into the door.

It's rude how he does this. How he undoes you so easily, how he picks you apart like a wolf tearing the flesh from the ribs of its meal.

He pulls your panties down and feasts.

It's too much, immediately. Kaiser does nothing in halves and sucking your dick applies to that. He sucks your clit into his mouth, kneading your hips as you gasp and writhe.

He moans when you kick him and doubles down.

He laps at you, breaking you down so easily. A finger presses against your entrance and you whine, hips jolting down toward the pressure. Your legs feel weak, with arousal and the leftover exertion of the day’s game.

"Wait— wait—" Your voice breaks. "I’m going to fall—"

Kaiser hefts one of your legs onto his shoulder but does not slow. Doesn't break his tempo while his head bobs up and down. You fist a hand in his hair and pull. He moans against you and the vibration goes straight to your dick.

You cum incredibly quickly. Embarrassingly so, and your one unsupported leg shakes so hard that it does, indeed, collapse. Kaiser barely catches you, still licking at your cunt through the aftershocks of your orgasm. He lowers you to the floor as your chest heaves.

You struggle to catch your breath as Kaiser grins at you. Your slick coats around his mouth, down his chin.

"What? He tilts his head. "Nothing to say now?"

"You’re the w-worse."

"At least you're not lying, now." And he kisses you, fiercely.

It’s the kind of contact that is meant to break and snap bone. The wet-fingered hand that had been massaging your insides grabs your jaw with enough force to bruise. All you can do is take it. All you can do is swallow down his moans while he takes yours. All you can do is shake and wrap your arms around his shoulders.

A warbling sound breaks from your throat.

He pulls away with a gleam in his eye. The night has hardly started and you already feel— wrung out, small. Aching.

Kaiser, for all of his dramatics and teeth, kisses your forehead with a surprising amount of tenderness. You ignore the stinging behind your eyes.

...

Kaiser is kind enough to bring you to bed, thankfully.

During some of your trysts, he'll simply take you over the arm of your couch or the small dining table tucked away by your kitchen.

Today, however, he drops you on top of your bed. You bounce as he does. You sniffle, dragging yourself up to the headboard.

"Running, just like a rabbit." Kaiser pulls off his shirt. "You’re not making a good case for yourself, bunny."

"Don’t c-call me that."

"Shouldn’t I?" he moves so quickly, suddenly braced over you, with a hand in between your legs. "It turns you on so much when I do."

You hate that he's right. You hate that— being in his jaws makes you so weak. You turn your head to the side, away from him. Kaiser acquiesces, kissing down your throat that you've bared to him. He nips and sucks as he does. Raised bite marks following in his wake, surely. You can't stifle your sounds as he does. Your legs kick and your heels press into the bed, but it doesn't slow or stop him.

"You’re so wet," Kaiser rolls your clit with his thumb. "I bet you'd take my cock so well, without any prep even."

Alarm bells go off in your head, the hard line of Kaiser's cock, still covered by his boxer briefs, burns against your thigh.

"No, no, please—" Kaiser is not small. He has a frustratingly large and thick cock (pretty, too), and taking without being stretched first aches for days.

He hushes you with a kiss on your cheek. "I'll be nice today, hm? Even if you don’t deserve it."

"You're n-never nice."

"Another truth," he sighs, wistful. "You’re getting better."

You hate him so fucking much.

It’s unfair, how easily he slips a finger into you. Then, so quickly, another, pressing and curling in just the right spot. For 'just fucking', Kaiser knows your body far too well. He is so keen to the spots that undo you. You barely hold back tears as he massages the most tender spot inside you.

He kisses you as he does. It’s consuming, the way his tongue delves into your mouth. He licks your tongue, at the back of your teeth, and sucks your tongue into your mouth. When he withdraws, a line of spit connects you both. It breaks and slaps against your chin.

"You look so pretty when you're messy.” He pats your cheek with too much force, curling his fingers just right.

"If—" You can barely find your voice. "If you make me c-come again— you can't—"

"Oh, I can—"

"Don't—" you won't be able to take it, you're certain. No matter how empty and barren your insides feel, even with his fingers in you, you can't take anymore. You feel tears brimming at the corners of your eyes.

"Please, please, please—"

"What are you begging for?" Kaiser kisses your cheek again like a lover would. "More or less? I can't tell."

You think less, but you don't know.

He slips a third finger inside you. You cry out, wrapping a leg around him, over his back. It’s an answer enough.

“All that talk,” he pushes your shirt up. “And still so needy.”

Before you can reply, Kaiser has his lips around one of the stiff peaks of your nipples. A sound shatters out of you as he sucks. Bites, even, gnawing on you like a piece of meat. It’s sensitive, it’s too fucking much, and yet you can kick him away anymore. You fist a hand in your own hair.

He spreads his fingers inside you, switching to the other side of your chest.

Kaiser leaves marks as he does. Your chest, marked. Your throat, marred. Everyone in the locker room will see, and that’s his intention, probably. You’ll be embarrassed— you are embarrassed— but you can’t make yourself stop him.

(Oh, you want his mark on you. You want to be more than fucking, you want to be in his maw, his teeth in you— fuck, fuck, fuck—)

He pulls away, taking your shirt with him.

Kaiser looms above you, grinning, teeth gleaming in the low light of your bedroom. You swallow, audibly, and he laughs in the same way a wolf does. Low and forbidding, a promise of a massacre tucked in his throat.

He peels off his boxers and his cock springs free.

If you were more within yourself, less lost in pleasure-pain, you would make some quip about how he is wet too. Pre staining the front of the boxers, wetting the red head of his cock. He’s like that— messy. Eager in his own way, dripping before you’ve even really touched him at all.

You jolt up, unsteady, wrapping a hand around his cock and pumping. He hisses and grabs your wrist, but doesn’t stop your motion. Instead, his mouth falls open, pretty lips parting as you stroke him. He’s already fully hard, painfully so it looks like, but he doesn’t make you stop. If you were teasing, he probably would, but you’re not.

You’re just pleasure drunk, bent within your desire.

“Fuck—” he grits out, guiding your holding a little tight on his cock. His pre drips, splattering against your navel. You jolt with the feel of it, whining.

“How—” you swallow again. “How d-do you want me?”

You watch his brain stall.

Kaiser is an interesting creature. Part of him craves the chase, the capture, the stealing of something for himself. Your pleasure and forced submission are two of those things, you’ve found. Those desires of his are transparent.

There’s another part that wants something stickier. That wants something... you wouldn’t say kinder, but more intimate maybe. Closeness, in all its parts.

It depends on his mood, how he starts fucking you. But it usually ends the same.

Kaiser doesn’t answer you verbally, he instead grabs you by the hips and flips you, so you’re tummy down against the duvet. He roughly grabs your hips, raising them so your back is in a cruel arch.

“I want to mount you,” he says, voice rough and lilting. “Like any wolf would want a rabbit, yeah?”

You kick at him blindly, “I’m not—”

“But you are—” Kaiser reminds you, a hand bracing on the back of your neck, pressing you down into the sheets. “And you were doing so well, knowing that. And even still—”

His breath is scalding against your nape.

“I’m a wolf, remember?” Kaiser's teeth nip against the skin and muscle of your trap. “Whether you’re a little bunny or not, I’d want you like this.”

You don’t get to speak; your words are stolen by the press of his wet cock against your cunt.

A sound tears from you as he breaches. It’s a tight fit, even though you’re dripping and he had three fingers in you moments ago. The stretch is a burning thing, hot, so hot. It hurts, but the good kind of hurt you relish. Every centimeter Kaiser pushes into you feels like agony and relief in tandem with one another.

By the time he’s fully seated, pelvis flush to your ass, your breath is catching. Too fast, too shallow, too withered.

“Deep breaths,” he whispers into your ear with a kiss over the sensitive shell of it. His weight is still beared on your neck. “Slow ones.”

“F-Fuck you—”

“I could move now, you know,” Kaiser adjusts his hips, the tip of his cock nudging your cervix, entirely too deep. “I’d make you pass out if I did that, wouldn’t I? I said I’m being nice, so breathe.”

You whine and close your eyes, counting your breaths, matching Kaiser’s, his own ragged by better-paced than your own. The brittle quality of your own settles a little, though a hiccuping sound emerges too.

“Are you crying?” Kaiser asks, half-incredulous and half-struck. “So early for tears.”

“Is’ the liquor—” You slur out.

“Liar,” Kaiser withdraws, so only the tip of his cock remains inside you. “Liar, liar, liar—”

With each word, he thrusts in and out of you. Deep and fast, bruising your insides without care for how you scramble for purchase below him. A twinge burrows itself in your neck with the pressure.

You wish you had words in you, but Kaiser fucks them out of you without pause. Without yield. All you can do is grab the duvet and take it.

His pace isn’t rapid, it’s measured. It’s meant to undo. Each wet slap against your cunt is tactical on his part. Each groan he lays into your ear serves the purpose of flaying you. You’re a meal for him; you’re being eaten.

He starts babbling as his pace speeds up.

“J-Just a fucking bunny,” he spits. “Just a stupid fucking bunny who doesn’t know what’s good for them, yeah? Should’ve watched your mouth.”

Any reply you could have leaks out of you in the drool that pools out of your mouth, wetting the fabric beneath your cheek.

“Good thing you have me,” Kaiser moans into your throat, sinking his teeth into you. “I know what you need, even if nothing in that pretty head of yours does. You k-know that, yeah? You know you’re mine?”

Ah, there it is.

Kaiser wants something that is his. Something he has to take.

He’s taken your body in so many ways, parts of your heart too, which is far scarier to acknowledge. For how much yearning is built up in that man’s body, he is horrible at expressing it in any sane fashion.

Only like this, with you taking everything he gives, can he let those desires loose. Only then can Kaiser really yearn with the full breadth of his chest, with the full weight of his body against yours.

“Yours.” Is all you can get out.

(Oliver, that fucker, was right. ‘Just fucking’, your ass.)

Kaiser moans, high and sweet in a way that you’re certain only you have had the privilege of hearing. He pulls out for only a moment to flip you around. Your legs instinctually come up around his hips, ankles locking at his lower back. His cock lays over your navel, over the softness of your tummy. It’s— obscene to look at. How deep inside you he can reach.

He clasps his hands with yours, intertwining his fingers with your own as he pushes inside you again.

The angle is different— each thrust has the head of Kaiser’s cock nudging your sweet spot. It doesn’t help that your stomach is bare, slick with the remnants of your slick and Kaiser’s pre. You feel exposed, like a belly-up prey animal that can’t hide from the wet jaws of a much larger, much more dangerous animal.

It doesn’t help that Kaiser is leering from above you, smiling, sweat beading on his brow, and slicking the blonde and blue hair around his face down against his cheeks. He looks just as debauched as you, maybe.

You squeeze his hand in your own, and he moans. Dirty and filthy, fucking into you harder, deeper. He tilts his hips to raise your own, the angle making blood rush into your skull.

Tears, the overwhelmed kind, drip from your eyes.

It makes him slow, just barely, and flatten his body to yours. He licks them away like he so enjoys doing when he forces you down small enough to get you teary and lost.

“Shhh,” he shushes into your cheeks, lapping like a hot-mouthed canine. “You’re taking me so well— why are you crying? Is the little rabbit scared?”

“No, no—”

“Sure, sure,” Kaiser laughs, cruel and loving all at once. “So scared of a big, bad wolf, right?”

“No—”

Are you scared?

Maybe.

You’re scared of how Kaiser makes you feel in these moments.

On the field, he’s all hard metal and marble. Something entirely broken and reforged, stone-hard and indomitable. Endless in his prowess, terrifying in his ferocity. On more than one occasion, you’ve been explicitly thankful to be on his team, rather than facing him. The way he breaks others down simply through his own play is terrifying to watch. You aid him, as any good midfielder would do, but it’s not you who is tearing apart your opponents.

That’s all Kaiser.

But that’s less fear— more awe, some respect, and some... eye-rolling. God, the man has a flair for the dramatic when he gets into it.

The fear comes from these moments. It comes from when you were so easily wrapped around him at the bar.

The depth of Michael Kaiser’s feelings is endless. Black and lightless, like the deep sea, there’s no bottom to it. It’s the kind of lucid knowledge that Kaiser will consume you with his yearning, his voracity, his urge to take and eat his fill, and then some. It doesn’t take a genius to know that Kaiser has lived most of his life hungry, and now that he has access to ample food, he will never allow himself to go hungry again.

It’s unfortunate that you are his— morsel. Prey. Meal. So often.

It scares you, the look on his face now as his pace increases. As all of his attention truly zeroes in on you. The smile on his face, the knowingness of how he looks at you. The way he eats your pleasure and intends to gorge himself on his own.

(At how— he so clearly wants more. No one unaffected would need to hold your hands to come like he does. Kaiser doesn’t know how to want and yearn in any way that is normal. Only when you’re both stripped down, you, humiliated, and Kaiser fully riding the high of humiliating you, can you both be honest.)

“Please—” You say, desperate.

Kaiser doesn’t tease or ask what you mean, now. He just fucks you harder.

It hurts— your insides. You’ll be bruised and you want to be bruised. You bend up into him as he does, as he chases his own want and desire through the outlet of your body. Your cunt squeezes around him and he curses under your breath.

His pace falters, just barely, and you know he’s close.

“Kiss—?” You ask, broken all over, and Kaiser does just that.

His sounds get lighter and airier as he gets closer to his own peak. You feel the way his muscles are bound tight. The bed frame hits the wall with each thrust. The wet slap of flesh-on-flesh lights staccato breaths in your chest.

You babble out pleas, for more, for more—

He chases his high, eyes locked onto yours, hands squeezing your own on either side of your head. His rhythm breaks as he groans, pressing deeper, so fucking deep, and he fills you up.

The gush of warmth in you has you gasping, kicking at his back. It feels like so fucking much as he fucks his spent into you, not stopping his thrusts until he’s empty and softening. His chest glistens as he pulls away, cock slipping out of you with a rush of cum. It drips out of you. It must be obscene because Kaiser practically has hearts in his eyes as he pushes his release back inside of you with two shaking fingers.

His gaze shifts from your cunt to you. Then, he scowls.

The moment is gone, it seems.

Something odd and hollow enters your chest. It’s not an unfamiliar feeling. It gets worse as Kaiser climbs off the bed, finding his boxer briefs and pulling them back on.

(He’s— he’s usually clingy after sex. He needs to be cuddled and held, but will never ask for it. Though, sometimes he does this, runs off when things get too raw and truly real.)

He exits the room wordlessly and you sigh.

You feel— sober enough. You want to cum and your insides are still vibrating and aching. Your hand slips between your wet thighs.

A little aborted sound slips out of you as you scissor two fingers around your cock. It’s swollen, your whole cunt is puffy and aching from the treatment Kaiser inflicted upon it. You feel like all of the blood in your body is centered around your core; it won’t be hard to finish.

You throw your head back against the bed, feeling too empty even with Kaiser’s spent inside of you.

“What are you doing?”

You hadn’t realized Kaiser had reentered the room.

He looks— handsome, unfortunately. Ruffled and sweaty from sex, and it’s a good look on him. There are a few bite marks on his neck, ones you didn’t even realize you left. His hair is frizzed up from the generated humidity.

“Getting off,” your voice breaks when you speak. “Leave, if that’s what you want.”

There’s a stillness in the room. Tension that appears so quickly and thickly, that you can almost see it.

Kaiser glares at you like he intends to kill you. It’s the same look he gives Ness when the other whiffs a pass during practice. It’s the same one he gives Isagi when he outdoes Kaiser. It’s an identical look to the one he gives you when you leave the locker room without him.

Kaiser’s clamoring back on the bed before you have time to think. Your hand is ripped away from your cunt and replaced by his own.

“Did you really think— I’d leave you on your own like this?”

“Yes—?”

“I must’ve fucked you stupid, then.” Kaiser spits, literally spits, onto your cunt. You flinch. “Or maybe, you just don’t think at all. That sounds plenty logical too.”

“You’re—” the worse, you want to say, but unfortunately, you really can’t speak as he lifts your thighs around him once more and slips his deft fingers into you again, rubbing your clit with his other hand.

“I just wanted to be nice, and get you some water, considering you were so bent on having a sip before we left the bar. But excuse me, I have such a needy rabbit on my hands, needing to get off and be fucked stupid before they can be satisfied.”

You squeal as his pace increases. You’re still— so sensitive. He folds your legs up and an odd pressure grows in your abdomen.

“Mihya—” A slip of the tongue, an understandable one, all things considered. “Wait—”

“I’ve been too nice to you, haven’t I?” Kaiser bends you in half. “You’ve forgotten the role you play, haven’t you?”

No, you haven’t, you really just thought that things got too sticky and gooey for Kaiser to continue to be in your bed, and you were trying to not fucking— leash a wolf, for your own safety. But, maybe Kaiser’s cock and the shot you did before you left the club really did make you a bit stupid.

The pressure in your abdomen increases, all pressure and heat.

“Mihya, wait, wait—!” You sob, scrambling to grab his wrist, but he doesn’t stop or slow. His pace grows more frantic, intense.

When you come, it’s wet.

A gush of fluid drips down his wrist, soaking your thighs, and wetting the comforter in a puddle below you. Kaiser keeps going, fucking you through it, despite all of your kicking and pushing.

He doesn’t stop until you come again, the same way. Wet and messy and wrung empty.

Only then, once you’re shaking, choking on your tears and harsh breaths, does he extract his fingers from inside you. They’re— they’re dripping. Soaked, just like the sheets, just like your cheeks.

You have your forearm laid over your eyes as you struggle to catch your breath.

You’ve— you’ve never done that before.

“Well,” Kaiser says, a smile so clearly in his voice. “That’s new. How lucky am I?’

“I—” Your voice is chopped. “I d-didn’t know I could do that.”

“... You haven’t before?”

You shake your head, pulling your arms away to look at him.

Kaiser— oh fuck, oh fuck— you made a mistake. You shouldn’t have told him that. The smile he wears is worse than wolfish. It’s worse than predatory. It’s something deeper and more primal that has your hindbrain begging you to roll off the bed and hide in a closet until further notice.

But you don’t, you can’t.

Kaiser kisses you.

He licks at your lips, your mouth, swallowing down each desperate, overstimulated sound that leaves you. His cock— his fucking dick— is half hard again against your thigh.

“No,” you tell him for the umpteenth time. “I can’t— I can’t—”

“You can and you will.” He declares with a sharp kiss to your now locked-shut lips.

You know that there isn’t much you can do to refute him.

(And you’re not sure you want to.)

...

You do, eventually, get water. It’s the early morning by then, the sun beginning to peak over the horizon. Kaiser puts a bottle to your lips after you, literally, cannot raise yourself up.

He hasn’t ever fucked you like this— never so many times in a night, never so full and so relentlessly. It’s hard to think— hard to fully understand that he is done— appetite fully satiated. Maybe.

Regardless, Kaiser is done with his gorging, and what’s left is the half-corpse of your body.

“Slow,” he tells you. You’re cradled in his arms as the bottle is put to your lips. You drink too fast, choke, and he scolds you. He’s being uncharacteristically doting.

“S-Sorry,” you mumble. Your lips feel numb.

“Don’t apologize,” he says. You can’t see his face, not really, but you can see the hint of an expression that isn’t as viperous as you would think it to be. It looks... not kinder, but not cruel.

He’s just as worn down and puddle-ish as you are.

Kaiser drinks his own bottle, after wiping you down. You really should shower, you’re filthy, but Kaiser says you can take one in the morning. There’s no practice tomorrow, you can sleep and get clean later.

It’s not until he’s slipping beneath your (fresh, thank god) sheets that you realize Kaiser means that you’ll do so together.

He tucks himself under your chin, head against your chest, with your sticky legs tangled with his own. Like a dog, a wolf maybe, he mouths at a few of the marks he’s left. He only relents with a laugh when you whine enough.

It’s odd, then. The stillness of the room. The only sounds are the whoosh of the aircon, the hum of an air purifier in the other room, and your matched, steady breathing. Kaiser rubs a hand up and down your spine.

“You’re still shaking, bunny,” he hums.

“Am I?” You genuinely can’t tell.

“So hard.” Kaiser lifts up your hand by the wrist, showing off the tremor that he caused. The bastard.

“O-Oh.”

Kaiser nudges your jaw with his nose. A smile is pressed into your skin. Toothy and wide, pleased with himself.

Maybe, hours ago, you would’ve fought him on it. There’s still a well of embarrassment in you, but there’s nothing to do with it when you’re this... fucked. All you can make yourself do is hum, contented enough, and press a few kisses to the crowd of his head. Your vision blurs with exhaustion, with sleep. It doesn’t take long for you to fall under.

(You crash before you notice the tension drain out of Kaiser. You don’t see how he presses closer to you, wraps you up in his arms tighter, tighter than he ever has before. You don’t feel him lavish your marked neck with kisses, luxuriate in his claim and all the closeness he’s broken you down into.)

(And, truthfully, even if you had witnessed this version of Kaiser? You wouldn't have minded. Maybe, even, as rabbit-hearted as you are, you would’ve returned his affections in kind.)

For now, as the gold of morning streams in through your blinds in pretty rays, you sleepily enjoy being caught prey in the arms of a wolf.

thank you for reading!! ❣️

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grimc-mstain · 1 month ago

Text

I hate spiders with a burning passion but im 100% ready to be wrapped up in this one's web

fly on the wall sukuna x f!reader x gojo

synopsis: when your best friend leaves you alone at a party, someone else decides to take his spot

content warning: mdni, DUBCON, BABY TRAPPING, gojo is lowk yandere guys, angst and smut, modern college au, jealousy, drinking, frat parties, sukina being a manwhore, gojo is OBSESSED with you, backshots, unprotected piv sex, creampie, aftercare, pregnancy

"Wanna go find a bedroom?" A pretty giggle and a hand on his bulging bicep, lipstick stuck to his neck and staining his collar. His low laugh, deep and rough.

And none of it was belonged to you.

"Whatever," Sukuna grunted, letting some drunk girl with dyed hair drag him away while you watched from the corner of the couch, sipping on beer and wishing you had said no to coming with him to this stupid frat party.

He was your best friend - that you happened to be desperately in love with.

You weren't delusional. Didn't think him asking you here was a date. Just a way to celebrate your final semester at college, the last few weeks before graduation. But you'd kind of convinced yourself that with a little liquid courage, maybe you'd kiss him. Play it off like a drunk mistake if he hated it and just hope that he didn't.

Your last bits of hope dried up as he disappeared up the stairs.

That was just the way it went.

Sukuna fucked another girl the same way his scowl and chuckles fucked with your feelings. You were used to it after years of crushing and yearning uselessly after him.

You were too busy wallowing in your own self-loathing to notice the guy plopping down next to you on the couch.

"What kind of host would I be to let a pretty girl drink by herself?" A familiar voice leaned over to purr in your ear, poking your cheek just so you'd swat his hand away.

"I'm about to leave, Gojo," You lied, leaning over to set your drink down on his coffee table. A rich and relentless flirt who wasn't used to not getting his way. His parents could probably buy the university if they wanted to, a six-figure job just waiting for him the second he walked off stage with his degree next month.

Sukuna hated him. You were mostly indifferent. He was like a fly buzzing around, landing on you every time you forgot about him. They'd been in a couple fights though, over dumb boy shit, usually, playing the same sport and at all the same parties and clubs.

You were pretty sure any interest Gojo has in you was directly correlated to his desire to piss Sukuna off.

"I need a beer pong partner," He complained, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger.

"I'm sure there's fifty other girls here who'd be happy to," You rolled your eyes, about to push off the couch but forgetting his leg was there, accidentally grabbing his muscled thigh before you ripped your hand away.

"I don't want them," He pouted. "I want you."

The wrong guy felt a lot more like the right one when he was saying stuff like that.

You just wanted someone to like you.

"Fine, but just one game," You reluctantly agreed, gritting your teeth.

And you meant it, alright?

Except when you won, and he picked you up, spinning you around by your waist and peppering your cheeks with kisses while bragging about you to everyone listening about how good his girl was?

Whatever tethered you to your sensibility snapped and you kissed him back. Missing his cheek to plant a messy one on his lips.

And the next thing you knew, you were in his bedroom, your panties and your party dress ripped off, your face buried in a pillow as he delivered the meanest backshots you ever received, his cock slamming into your soaking cunt every three seconds when you stammered out his name.

"F-fuck, oh God, S'toru," You whined, your voice weak and muffled as his hips smacked into your ass again. Everything felt too warm inside, the pleasant fuzz in your chest from earlier turning into a blazing fire.

He abruptly pulled out, massive hands flipping you over, clumsily pushing your plush thighs up to your chest, admiring the connection between you when he shoved his thick cock back in, inch by inch disappearing into your heat.

"So pretty," He hummed, drawing little patterns you were too fucked out to process on your skin with his thumb. "All mine now, yeah?"

You weren't listening. Weren't even sure you were on the same planet anymore. Just lose in the haze of him thrusting inside you, the way his bright eyes held yours hostage, glittering even in the low lamp light, how his sweet cologne disarmed and enchanted you.

"Mhm," You nodded, vaguely aware the biggest dick at school has fucked you dumb on his own stupidly large cock, and not even able to bring yourself to despise it.

You just wanted more of him.

"You wanna be my girl?" He teased, one of his hands sliding down to paint the same patterns over your clit, barely sweeping over it just to make you jolt.

"Pl-please," You pleaded, face scrunching up and lips parting, unsure if you were begging him to make you cum or just make you his.

But he did both.

Massing your sore and needy bud with just enough pressure to push you over the edge, but this time, he was painting your cunt white, cumming right as you cried out, the distinct feeling of something warm and wet leaking down your thighs and onto his sheets before you even finished coming done.

He got up to clean you, his cock still pretty and pink and swollen as it bobbed with every step, cum and slick coating it as he hurried to grab a washcloth from the attached bathroom. He ran it under warm water, using it to wipe you up, throwing you some of his clothes, a t-shirt and some boxers that were too big before sliding on a pair too and crawling back in bed with you.

You were awkward, cautiously glancing back at him and blinking hard as you pulled his shirt over your head, not sure what other options you really had considering your dress was reduced to scraps in the heat of the moment.

But then he pulled you back against his chest, snuggling you against him like you were a couple and not just, well, whatever you actually were.

"Shouldn't you go back out there?" You mumbled, starting to pull away before his hand tightened on the back of your neck, keeping you in place with a pout.

"Nah," He dismissed. "I'd rather be here."

You didn't know why you stayed, other than the embarrassment of walking out in Gojo's clothes. You'd probably have to creep out in the morning, hoping everyone else was too wasted or hungover to notice, or get him to give you a ride. But that wasn't really an excuse for cuddling back with him, your leg thrown over his and your arms wrapped around his side. Dozing off on his soft mattress, his fingers dancing over your spine and tracing soft shapes soothing you to sleep.

Banging woke you up, someone pounding on his door.

It could've been thirty minutes or three hours, the party reduced to a dull hum in the background, huffing as you buried your face back against Gojo's warm chest.

"Open the fuck up," Sukuna's voice boomed through the door, his fist slamming against the wood veneer like he was hoping to splinter it.

Your blood ran cold.

Gojo was already awake, a crooked smile spreading across his face while he listened to Sukuna shouting your name from the hall.

"Go back to sleep, baby," He murmured softly to you, pressing a kiss to your forehead before untangling your limbs.

He didn't cover you with a blanket though.

You wondered if he wanted Sukuna to see what you looked like wearing his clothes.

You rolled away from the door, pressing your face to the pillow so you wouldn't have to know what sort of face Sukuna made when he found out you betrayed him.

"What's up, man?" Gojo casually greeted, the door swinging open with a creak after he flipped the lock.

"What the fuck-" Sukuna's harsh voice stopped the second he saw you in the bed, curled up in Gojo's shirt and (pretending to be) asleep.

"Is there a problem?" He wryly taunted, and you could just picture his face, the glint in his eyes and the way his white brow would arch up.

"I'll fucking kill you," Sukuna growled.

"Can it wait until tomorrow? Don't wanna wake sleeping beauty up," Gojo mocked.

He didn't wait for Sukuna to reply before slamming the door shut in his face.

You didn't say anything. Just let him pull you back against him. And when you woke up the next morning? He had fresh clothes and breakfast delivered, letting you eat in his bed and insisting he'd have to wash everything anyway.

"Wanna go on a date today?' He asked while you were using his shower, peeking his head through the curtain with an easy smile.

"What?" You blinked, trying to work out if this was just also part of his plan to get back at Sukuna or if he was serious.

"I was thinking the zoo, or maybe that new bakery that opened up?" He proceeded to throw out options like you'd already said yes, and somehow, you found yourself in the passenger seat of his car two hours later with his hand on your thigh and his chatter in your ears about what souvenir he was going to buy you.

Pretending not to feel the weight of your phone in your pocket, switched to do not disturb so you wouldn't have to deal with the hundred texts and calls from Sukuna about you sleeping with the enemy.

Part of you wondered if there wouldn't be any, if he'd just discard and be done with you entirely now.

But when Gojo was grinning and laughing with you, when he touched you and planted kisses all over your skin, you were starting to think it might be a trade worth making.

Except, uh, after a few weeks of the honeymoon period passed and the day your period was supposed to start came and went with it, and a pregnancy test confirmed what you dreaded.

Fuck.

It wasn't until you told him the next day with tears in your eyes that you realized there might be something worse than him not wanting your baby. It was the possibility he planned for it.

"I'm really gonna be a dad?" He grinned, no what-are-we-gonna-do, no how-did-this-happen, not an ounce of regret.

"Satoru, can you be serious for two seconds? This is a big deal," You scolded, but he was already placing your hand on your stomach.

"I am serious," He teased, drawing a heart over our belly button this time. "I'll take care of you and our baby. You wanna tell my parents first? Or should we get eloped?"

You were wrong. He wasn't a fly.

He was a spider.

And you were just the unfortunate bug wrapped up tight in his web.

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