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embossross · 2 years

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A Labor of Love

part of the In the Belly of the Beast fic universe

✣ Pairing: Kakucho x AFAB fem!Reader; +Mikey/reader; Ran/reader; Rindou/reader; Sanzu/reader; Mochi/reader

✣ Warning: 18+ explicit content, minors DNI

✣ Synopsis: You want your relationship with Kakucho to work, enough that you’re willing to sacrifice something precious to you to his colleagues. Your body. Or BONTEN GANGBANG (fun time is had by all)

✣ Series: stand alone; part of the In the Belly of the Beast fic universe

✣ TWs: Dubious consent (active consent given but some coercive context, boundary pushing & reader is rolling throughout); drug use; GANGBANG – double penetration, ptv, pta, blowjobs (+rough), CHOKING (dubious consent), degradation, praise, cucking (sorta), rough sex, double penetration, filming.

✣ Word Count: ~10k

The day Kakucho walked into your gym, you had a black eye and a recently ruptured spleen. Your coach told you to throw a fight, and enraged, humiliated, heartbroken…you did. The bitch could have at least pulled that last body shot to spare your fucking ribs.

But those were just the breaks when you battled in the merciless rings of underground MMA.

All that to say, you noticed Kakucho immediately for looking even worse for wear than you did that day. The pale, angry scar that started in his hairline and cut a jagged path through the corner of his glassy eye drew the eye of everyone he passed, but on that day, it was exaggerated and worsened by the swollen lip, the angry red fingerprints like a collar on his neck, the limp. Looked like he had lost a fight, too.

You shared a look of mutual understanding. The look said that you had lost, had hurt, but you were back on your feet again.

Kakucho came by your gym a lot after that day, watching the fighters as they practiced their footwork or sparred their gym mates, as if you were all prized roosters. After a few weeks, he started hitting the machines himself. You remember double-checking his numbers on the leg press, unable to believe anyone but a giant could move that much weight.

Eventually, you got to talking. Nothing crazy at first, just an ask for the occasional spot or comment on your form in a practice match.

He loved the sport, you realized, and soon you were talking for thirty minutes at a time about the Rizin FF and the international leagues. You thought he would have made a hell of a mid-weight champ himself if he ever thought to get in the ring.

(He definitely had the abs for it.)

There was always something shady about Kakucho. Your coaches were too deferential to him when normally they chased groupies out of the gym. When he would leave the gym at the same time, you would spot at least four guys just waiting for him out on the curb, like an unwelcome entourage. Despite never joining in the practice spars, he sometimes showed up with bloody knuckles.

You knew he was shady. And, yet, when he asked you to grab a beer, you said yes. Maybe if he didn’t look so fucking good with his shirt off and sweat pooling in the creases of his abs, you would have told him to fuck off.

You got that beer, and then the next. And then, you were giving him a key to your rathole of an apartment, and he was buying you a new mattress after breaking the previous one.

You fucking love him.

Learning the truth behind his suspicious background didn’t do much to diminish that love. Yeah, it was fucking infuriating to learn that he was part of the Bonten – the organization that sometimes demanded you throw your matches or break a kneecap for the betrayal – but that wasn’t Kakucho’s fault per se. Pretty quickly after you sucked his dick for the first time, you were told you would win your next match. You haven’t been asked to throw one in the months since either.

So, you love him, and the love is turning you into an ooey, gooey cherry pie of a woman. Love makes you wait up for a text from him before you can fall asleep, to shave your legs, to spill your guts about your estrangement from your family back in Fukushima and let Kakucho stroke your neck as you cry.

In return, Kakucho has proven a near perfect boyfriend. He doesn’t scare off the guys you work with at the gym, brings you protein shakes after workouts, and shares his own harsh past as just another Tokyo orphan.

The only obstacle to your love story – and man, you could punch yourself for even thinking the words ‘love story’ – is that you don’t know a thing about what he does in the day. Your relationship exists within the limits of the gym and your apartment. His life outside those sanctuaries is a mystery to you.

He can’t tell you even vague details about his work in Bonten because you are uninitiated, and the knowledge could cost your life.

You did not leave behind a farm and six betrayed siblings to move to Tokyo with nothing but a dream because you are a cautious person. You want to know your boyfriend, your lover, and that just means you need to get initiated.

Fresh from the shower, Kakucho joins you in the locker room. A few words and a flick of the lock, and you are alone. You recently cut almost all your hair off – an undercut is less bother in the ring – so you don’t bother with a towel, little droplets spilling out onto your clavicles as you dress. Kakucho stands to the side, shifting his weight around, watching as you change.

“We can just forget about this whole thing,” Kakucho says.

You scowl at him as you lace up your boots. “Fuck that. Either I get read into your little gang or we break up. I’m done with this secretive shit. Never know where you are or who you’re with. It’s driving me crazy!”

“Even if you get in, there’ll still be secrets,” Kakucho protests.

A week of arguing, and he is still trying to change your mind. When he gets on this, you just tune him out. You developed a neat skill during your years of exercise; you can play a song in your head and hear it as clearly as if it blasted through your headphones. Internally, you listen to the square synth leading into a Gurugamesh headbanger as Kakucho whines about why this is a bad idea.

“I’m going home. If you don’t initiate me, I’m dumping you. If you are, come home with me, and I’ll ride your cock until you cry. Hell, I’ll even share my dinner. I’m making chicken,” you say, cutting him off. Bag packed, there is no reason to linger.

Kakucho sighs. “I want to initiate you. I just…we have to talk about what that means.”

“Ok, tell me.”

You sit down on a bench and gesture for Kakucho to do the same. He stays standing. He looks angry, but that is just Kakucho’s face. Hard to say how he feels.

“There are usually two ways for new guys to get initiated,” Kakucho says through gritted teeth. “We have to be careful, babe. We have to be sure that we aren’t sharing intel on our activities with undercovers. That means we have to have a trial of sorts that no undercover would ever pass.”

Made sense so far.

“The first option is…shit, I’ll just come out and say it. You would need to kill someone. And we’d need to tape it.”

The walls of the room pulse, shrink in close, until you are bracing your fist against the wooden bench for support. You knew what he did, and yet…

“I can’t do that, Kakucho!”

“I know. I know. I’m not asking you to do that,” Kakucho reassures you. He moves forward, palms wide as if you are a bucking horse in need of a gentle touch. “I’m just telling you your choices.”

“Well, that’s fucked,” you hiss.

You are no saint. You have stolen from people who have been generous to you, wronged your family, hell, for enough money, you might break a man’s legs in four places. But to murder someone? Your worst enemy walked away from you with nothing worse than a bruised rib and a bloody nose. You are not a killer.

“I know it’s fucked. But, undercovers can’t kill a person even with clearance, so that’s how we can be sure an initiate is not a narc. And, then, we can hold the video over them if they ever try to turn,” Kakucho explains. “But there are other options.”

“Well, what’s option two?”

You are immediately nervous when Kakucho shoves his hands guiltily into the pockets of his too expensive jeans. What could be worse than murder?

“For some guys, they submit to a public beating,” Kakucho says.

“That one! I choose that one!”

There are MMA fighters with better technique, more versatility, more power behind their punches. But, there are none who can take a beating better than you. Every time you fall in the ring, you grind your teeth through the pain and pull through, keep punching. A little beat down would be just another Wednesday to you.

Kakucho shakes his head, though.

“No, you don’t understand. I don’t mean a couple punches. I mean, ten guys beating you for a half hour. Almost no one chooses this option because it means hospital for a month at least.”

“I’m not afraid,” you argue. “And it’s not like I can kill someone!”

“I could not stand there and watch them beat the shit out of you,” Kakucho growls, and you realize he really would kill his own subordinates before withstanding that. “Besides, you might never fight again after a beating like that. You can’t just throw away your dreams.”

Is this what your father meant when he would caution about the devil tempting you into the fall? You always scoffed at his arrogant ministries, running through your family’s fields to escape from being shipped off to church on Sundays. Yet, here, your boyfriend stands, putting a price on the last piece of morality you have left. Your dreams or your soul?

Because you do dream. Dream of leaving Bonten’s fixed fights for a couple hundred degenerates and making your way through the Shooto league, getting some mainstream attention, and then, ultimately debuting in the Rizin FF. Just to fight in that league! You don’t even dare to dream of then winning the Women’s Super Atomic Championship, of overtaking Ayaka Hamasaki. Don’t dare to dream of it, yet you’ve practiced your victory speech in the shower.

These are pipe dreams for a country girl, but in the last few months, with Kakucho’s support and connections, they have started to feel a little closer.

“I ca-can’t kill someone,” you repeat shakily.

“I know,” Kakucho says, this time disappointed. “Which is why, for you, we have to talk about option three.”

“I thought there were only two?”

“Normally there are, but you are a woman…”

“Go on,” you say tightly. If Kakucho is not careful with what he says next, you are going to punch him in the mouth. Bonten has good dental.

“Because I’m so high in the organization, it would just be the top execs. But uh…shit, this is hard. It would be a one-time thing, ok. Just the once. They would just uh, fuck you, and then it would be done.”

Yeah, you are going to kick his teeth out.

Sensing the rising violence in your tensed muscles, Kakucho takes a few hurried steps back and adds, “It’s not like this is my idea or even Bonten’s. This is just standard practice in most syndicates. Undercovers won’t submit to being–”

“Gang raped?” you bite out.

“It wouldn’t be rape,” Kakucho says. “It would be your decision.”

His shoulders deflate, all helpless. You remember why you are discussing this in the first place. Kakucho has done everything he can to warn you away from this path, but you declared you would not stay in a relationship separated by secrets. This is your choice. Not his fault – not his job – to protect you from your own choices.

If you love this man, you will consider this.

“How many men are we talking about?” you ask.

“Um, seven guys other than me,” Kakucho says, and you whip your head up in shock. Seven! “But, uh, not all of them will do it, probably. Takeokmi and Kokonoi don’t cheat on their girls, and Mikey and Sanzu usually just watch.”

“Usually? How often do you do this?”

“Not often,” Kakucho rushes to say. “I just know these guys.”

“So, three guys…wait, you said Takeomi. Do I know these guys?”

“Err, yeah, some of them. You met Mochi before…”

The blonde guy with the resting bitch face. You remember him. Kakucho took you to watch an official match once, and the VIP section was filled with his buddies. You sat beside Kakucho, and on his other side sat Mochi, and not one, but two pretty pieces of arm candy he brought to seemingly ignore the match in favor of their phones. You didn’t much like the guy, but you got a little soft hearted seeing how Kakucho smiled and cracked dumb jokes with his old friend.

“How am I supposed to face these guys again – your friends – if they fuck me?” you ask.

“You wouldn’t be the first girlfriend to choose this. They’ll be understanding,” Kakucho says.

“Who else?”

“You met him, too – Benkei – his fiancé did it. Everyone’s real nice to her still. And, Benkei didn’t see her any differently…after,” Kakucho stumbles.

He has never been good with words, but you think the struggle this time is not him but the limitations of the Japanese language. No earthly language was built for this kind of proposition.

You for one don’t say anything.

Kneeling, Kakucho takes your hand in his. It puts him below you for once, when normally he towers above you. A humbling.

“It doesn’t have to be bad. It could maybe even be good. I mean, I can give you some pills that make you feel really good, so you’re almost not even there. Then, it’ll just be an hour, where you have to do what you’re told. And, I’ll be there the entire time to hold your hand through it or whatever you need. They aren’t bad guys, or well, they are, but not when it comes to this. They can make it good for you.”

Bile fills your mouth. You have to swallow to ask your next question, and it burns.

“How can you ask me to do this?”

And here, now, Kakucho looks at you and despite his harsh black eyebrows and menacing scar, he looks like a scared boy. The little orphan boy afraid to be left alone in the dark.

“Because I don’t want to lose you.”

You curl your fingers through his, cling onto the strength of him. You really don’t want to lose him either.

---

Every bite of food and sip of drink in the past twelve hours was a mistake. Your stomach gurgles and turns over threateningly with each step toward your fate.

True to his word, Kakucho has done everything he could to prepare you for this encounter. All day you limped around with an anal plug in case someone decided to use that hole. The afternoon was spent teetering on the edge as Kakucho worked your pussy up over and over. Under normal circumstances, you’d strangle him, but it had the desired effect of leaving you wanting and achy.

Your holes are prepped. Thoroughly. Mentally, you feel less fortified.

Half an hour earlier, you took a few pills of molly and Xanax, but you swear you don’t feel the side effects. You are just as nervous now as ever.

Safe Heaven – you scoff at the cheesy name – appears to be a gentleman’s club. Red satin couch cushions, a well-stocked bar, and well-dressed patrons greet you and Kakucho when you first enter. Women exist to serve here, strutting around on sky-high platform heels or twirling around a pole on the center stage.

Kakucho leads you further inside with a hand pressed to the small of your back. He whispers in your ear as you walk that the club is one of many that belongs to Bonten but is special as a regular base of operations for its senior executives.

You trip a little as you enter a massive office. Said senior executives are already there. Waiting.

A sectional couch, built into the wall itself, wraps around two sides of the room. Against another is a large desk, stacked with paperwork, a TV mounted beside it and turned to the local news. There is a bar cart and a rack of designer suits. The walls are decorated in paintings. You are no critic, but you can tell they are expensive, rare. They, along with the furniture, clearly reflect the taste of a single person, someone who favors gold brocade and violent bursts of color.

The top men of Bonten are seated on the sectional. They appear at ease with each other; some don’t even glance up when you stumble into the room at Kakucho’s side. Cigarette smoke clogs the air above their heads. It is oppressive.

“Close the door,” one of the men says.

You remember what Kakucho told you, that it is not enough to simply get fucked but you must also follow every order during your time in this place. You close the door.

Some of the men sprawled across the couch look less like yakuza than flashy account executives if you ignore the dyed hair and tattoos that peak through their suit jackets. Kakucho wears his upbringing on his face, always looking somewhat rugged even in designer jeans. You can simply tell he knows how to fight. These men are less intimidating, polished, even as their own scars stretch across their cheeks.

You recognize Mochi cuddled up with the women from the prize fight. The women’s respective blonde and pink dyed hair don’t stand out among this motley crew, but their scraps of clothing do. They are all tits and smooth stomach and ass, and in case you weren’t already looking, Mochi has a firm handful of each woman to make sure you don’t miss it.

By his side are Rindou and Ran – you think – and there, that must be Sanzu and Mikey. Kakucho drilled you on the various executives to prepare you for tonight, so you could at least put a name to the cock inside you at any given time. You have met Takeomi before in passing, which means the last man must be Kokonoi. As you assess them carefully, most of the men remain fixated on their phones or the TV news.

It is the single most awkward moment of your life.

You have never been one to crumble when things get weird. No, if anything, you get pissed.

“Well, I’m here. Are we going to fucking do this?” you bark.

“Everyone, this is [y/n],” Kakucho says, a proprietary hand on your shoulder. Now, every head turns to you, which is frankly better than being ignored.

Takeomi rises from the couch. “Well, that’s my cue to leave. Sanzu, I’ll send you the details on the Tsumigumi thing tomorrow.”

Sanzu scowls. “Shut it! There are outsiders listening.”

A genuine smile as Takeomi regards you. “Not for long.” He shakes Kakucho’s hand and then, oddly, yours. “We should have dinner sometime. I’d love to get to know you better.”

It’s a nice offer, like you are just the girlfriend of a friend and not about to get dicked down by a room of men. Still, you watch him go with relief. One down, six left.

Kokonoi is about to follow Takeomi out of the room when a voice stops him.

“Where the fuck are you going?” Sanzu says.

“Back to the office. NASDAQ is going to open soon.”

“Oh, I bet that’s the only reason,” the man called Rindou snickers.

“Yeah, okay, and what of it? Yumi will have my balls if I stay here,” Kokonoi protests. “I know your girl is sweet and understanding, but mine is not. She will kill me.”

“Yumi will remember who she works for,” Mikey says.

With Mikey in the center of the sectional and his men spread out beside him, he looks like a perversion of the Jesus in the Last Supper. He is a wraith, so thin in a black tee shirt that swallows him whole, dead eyes, deader black circles under them. A talking corpse.

A few words and you know he is the leader. Kokonoi does not argue back, immediately looks to Mikey for permission instead. Permission that Mikey does not grant.

“Sit down,” he says coldly.

Defeated, Kokonoi does, but he continues to look to Mikey with pleading eyes. “I was exaggerating about Yumi. She would understand, Mikey. But I would prefer to get back to work.”

Mikey is unmoved, and you think the night is about to get very weird if one of these men wants nothing to do with you, but then, he shrugs. “We need someone to hold the camera. Just watch.”

Kokonoi is as excited about your porn debut as you are, but he gladly sits down on the far side of the couch and pulls out his phone. Gonzo-style camera phone porn? Great.

Two down, five left.

None of the other men throw a fit about having to fuck you, but they don’t look particularly eager to jump you either. The situation is so fucked, but you are actually feeling insecure as they size you up.

Femininity is a sore subject. Never soft or pretty enough for your traditional family. Overlooked by guys for your three sisters, who all worried about their clothes and practiced giggling in the mirror. Your idea of dressing up for a date is jeans and washing your hair.

These ageless insecurities disappeared with Kakucho. Even standing drenched in sweat after a workout, a bruise purpling your chin, he has never made you feel anything less than beautiful.

These men are different.

The two women dangling off Mochi are what you imagine they would prefer. Smiley, smokey-eyed, lips and tits so pert they can’t be natural. At Kakucho’s suggestion, you actually tried to dress up a little, donning what constitutes a face-full of makeup by your standards, a little effort at appealing to these men, and still they barely look.

You expected humiliation tonight, but not this. It’s infuriating! These dickheads should be salivating at the thought of your pussy!

“Would you like a drink?” Ran offers, striding towards the bar cart. The acknowledgement is a relief, and you thankfully begin to accept.

“She can’t. She’s rolling,” Kakucho interrupts.

Ran nods to him, your drink forgotten, and then at the two women with Mochi. “Girls, why don’t you hit the floor? Mochi will be done in an hour.”

“Yes, Mr. Haitani,” they intone.

A whiff of strong perfume assaults you as they breeze past. You are wildly jealous as they leave the room behind and the door closes for good, trapping you with these men.

“My name is Ran,” the tall man says, and you realize he is going to be the leader in what happens next. “Why don’t you take your clothes off? Give us a little show. Okay, baby?”

Ran stands off to the side to give you space and gestures for Kakucho to do the same. You immediately miss the warmth of him at your back, but you signed up for this. Time to be a big girl.

Moving to the center of the room, you strip. You kick off your sneakers and shimmy out of your skinny jeans. Most of the men are watching you now. Ran asked for a show, and you don’t want to pussy out already, so you turn around before bending over to strip off your socks. Every one of them should have a perfect view of your ass and covered pussy. The tee-shirt comes next, no bra today, so your tits bounce free immediately. Panties last, and then you are naked.

“Beautiful,” Ran purrs.

He moves close and strokes the skin of your arms. Your body reacts, each nerve delicate and primed. The molly is kicking in. The anxiety that should be shattering your psyche is trapped somewhere in the back of your brain, unable to harm you.

The long line of Ran’s body presses tight to your back. He is much slimmer than Kakucho, but just as tall. His fingers tickle a line along your neck. He blows a puff of hot air along the shell of your ear.

You remember suddenly how Kakucho described Ran – a lover of women, a man who liked women not just for their bodies but as people, as company. The kind of man that women recall fondly years after leaving his side. A great seducer.

Whether it’s Ran’s experience or the molly, your body happily embraces his attentions, and your thighs rub together in anticipation. You no longer question if you are attractive enough for the men in this room, not with Ran caressing you like a prized pet.

“Such a beautiful girl,” Ran repeats as his hands mold around your tits. He weighs them, pushing them together to create cleavage, and then releases, again and again.

Your eyes flutter closed, but you can see the men watching the shape of you as Ran toys with your body. Rindou bends forward, elbows to his knees in rapt attention. You recall that Kakucho said he is a big fan of MMA, has seen you fight before. A fan of sorts. Maybe someone you can look to for support during this ordeal?

An embarrassing moan escapes you when Ran pinches your nipples. Pleased, he does the same thing over and over again, until they are inflamed, and you are fucking furious at the teasing. You grind your ass back intentionally, dragging along Ran’s thighs and dick. He grunts, a hand flying to take your hips and guide your motions.

“Take your pants off,” you order.

Ran laughs. “Bossy!”

“She speaks her mind,” Kakucho says proudly, and you turn your head to share a smile with him.

You didn’t think you would be able to bear to look at him during this ordeal, but you don’t know why you were so worried. He is your Kakucho, even in these strange circumstances. There is no judgment or jealousy in his eyes. Even now, you can see he wants to protect you, but also knows you don’t need his protection in the first place. All of this is for him, and he is grateful.

A large hand bends you in half. Your gym routine involves daily intense stretching, so your pliant body happily follows the direction. Your tits press tight to your knees, and you grip your own ankles for support.

The pressure on your hips makes it difficult to maintain your balance even with hands holding you in place. You wonder what the others are doing, but you can’t see through the hair fallen over your face.

Hot, hard, and twitching, you groan at the feeling of Ran’s cock gliding through your pussy lips. It disappears for a moment, then you feel a glob of spit land on your exposed hole.

Seconds later, he pushes in.

He is gentle abut it, but the intrusion still startles a shriek from you. Your body feels too small to accept the cock bullying its way inside you. It’s the angle, but Ran doesn’t adjust to accommodate either of you. If anything, he likes it.

“So good, so fucking good,” Ran coos sweetly. He uses his grip on both your hips to start thrusting into your tight hole. You aren’t very wet, so there is a mild burn to each thrust at first, but Ran doesn’t let that stop him either. He keeps telling you how good you feel until your pussy lubricates, and then he fucks you harder.

“Ah, shit,” you gasp.

A groan. “Fuck you’re beautiful.” That is Kakucho, not Ran.

Kakucho who can’t take his eyes from your tensed thighs, from your shaking calves. Kakucho who loves you.

Euphoria makes your brain go a little hazy. So much easier to just focus on the sensation of a cock stretching your cunt, of how deep and powerful Kakucho sounds when he tells you he wants you.

“Ah, fuck, fuck, keep talking to her, Kakucho,” Ran moans obscenely. “She tightens up like you wouldn’t believe. Shit.”

“Oh, I believe it,” Kakucho obliges. “My girl has such a tight pussy, and she knows how to use it. My fierce, beautiful girl. Love you so fucking much. Love watching you get fucked, just because I love to see you fall apart for me.”

The shakes start in your strained thighs and spread in every direction. You can barely keep your balance. Every time Ran thrusts, you worry you are going to collapse, but that worry is practically nothing to you. Even the fiery stretch doesn’t really hurt. You feel so close to Kakucho even as you are broken open on another man’s cock.

Ah, but the stretch really does burn.

Your legs buckle and you start to fall.

Before you can collapse and possibly break Ran’s dick in the process, a hand covered in rings is there, scooping up both your legs. A moment of vertigo as you are manhandled, and then you are in a new position: full body suspended upright and backwards on Ran’s cock, legs spread wide as he bounces you up and down. It is Rindou who supports you with his hands under your ass as his brother continues to thrust up into you.

“There you go, slut. Take that cock all the way,” Rindou murmurs, eyes trained to where your pussy is spread open.

At first, he appears less handsome than his brother, but you realize that is an illusion. Both men are equally attractive, just Rindou’s good looks are easy to miss when he is slouched and tired-eyed and bored by everything. He doesn’t look bored now as he licks his own fingers and brings them to your aching clit.

Instantly, your body starts seizing. It is like the barest touch has returned you to the last edge Kakucho gave you that afternoon, when he tapped your clit with his tongue until you wailed and then left you wanting. Your arms flail a bit, and then you are gripping the short hairs at Ran’s neck in a death grip and clutching Rindou’s shoulder just as desperately.

“Oh fuck, I’m gonna…I’m gonna…”

“That’s it, slut, squeeze that cock,” Rindou hisses. “Cum all over that dick.”

“Good girl, good girl. Just keep taking it, just like that,” Ran groans.

“You look so fucking perfect. So fucking beautiful,” Kakucho calls.

All those voices singing your praises, the messy fingers on your clit, the fat cock drilling you, it is too much. You feel so connected to them all, so wanted, so full. You are cumming and you are cumming and you are cumming. Your whole body shakes, head whips back and forth wildly.

“Ah shit, I can’t –”

Ran pulls out of you abruptly, and you are falling, trembling, into Rindou’s supportive arms. Your feet touch the floor, but your legs are too weak to support you. Rindou’s solid chest is the only thing keeping you off the ground. Still, your pussy continues to spasm, and you pant at the brilliant aftershocks.

“Pretty girl! Got so tight you pushed me right out,” Ran laughs, hard dick in his hand.

There is a creak as Mochi rises from the couch. He straightens his suit jacket as he takes measured steps closer to your limp body. Knowing he is one of Kakucho’s closest friends, you were most nervous about him, but you can’t quite summon the care anymore. If anything, his angrily arched eyebrows are your biggest worry. He looks perpetually annoyed, and right now he’s looking at you.

“Want to try that mouth,” he says, speaking more to Rindou.

One of his meaty palms gropes your side, fondling a tit and pressing the soft flesh of your belly. Clipped short nails scrape a little pattern into your skin.

“Which hole you want, Rin?” Ran asks, returning to your back. He props his chin directly on the curve where your neck and shoulder meet. “You can choose whichever. I’ll make it work.”

Rindou groans. He runs a finger through the slippery lips of your pussy, and then, licks his finger clean.

After a long moment where he savors the taste, he grunts, “Can’t.”

“Oh, come on! You’re already here. What’s the harm?”

Through your haze, you think to yourself that there is a lot of peer pressure going on between the men of Bonten.

“It’s not cheating until I get my dick wet. I’ll pass,” Rindou insists. As he argues, he returns his fingers to your dripping hole and teases you open a little. You are still a little numb from the last orgasm, but the play is surprisingly gentle and nice. A little apology from Rindou for not using your properly.

“And whose convenient rule is that?” Mochi laughs.

“Yasuko’s,” Rindou says, defensive, definitive.

“Rindou can watch,” Mikey says from his seat on the couch.

And with that, the argument is over. Despite his victory, Rindou doesn’t retreat very far, lingering by your side. His definition of watch is quite…active.

“Why don’t you sit on my cock?” Ran suggests, breath tickling your ear.

He settles on the floor and spreads his legs in front of him. You see now that he never fully removed his pants, and the pinstriped monstrosity and his boxers scrunch at the knees. Your first eyeful of his cock is intimidating, not bigger than Kakucho, but longer, unfamiliar even if it was punching a hole in your gut only a minute earlier.

The three men all have hands on your body as they manhandle you into their preferred position, hovering over Ran’s cock and facing away towards the couch and your audience. You see Kakucho smile, and you wave at him like an idiot. He disappears from your sight as Mochi drops his dick into your line of vision. He is hairy and smells strongly, not bad, just strong. When you look up at him from this position, he looks like a giant.

Ran lifts your ass and hips high, so that you are level with Mochi’s groin and slides himself back inside your warm body from below. All you have to do is stay still and take it as his powerful hips thrust upwards.

You hum a little, relieved that this position will spare your aching clit for a while, relieved to be filled again.

There is still Mochi’s cock to contend with as he stands a bit to your left, and you don’t wait for some degrading order to take him in hand. The man shuffles forward so you can wrap your lips around the head of him. He isn’t fully had at first, but the seal of your lips quickly solves that.

The mildly salty taste is strangely delicious. You lap at the tip aggressively to earn more of it. A frantic flickering back and forth, and then a glob of spit right on the shaft, and your hand stroking the rest of him.

You hear a groan you recognize as Kakucho’s. “I love when you do that. Fuck.”

Mochi is less demonstrative in his appreciation, but he doesn’t try to instruct you, keeps his hands by his side as he peers down with those angry brown eyes. You match his gaze with a fury of your own and slurp your way up the side of him.

Somehow, proving your skills as a cock sucker has become a point of pride, and you barely think about the slow but steady thrusts into your body. They’re like a low hum of pleasure cheering you on, rather than a focal point. Tracing little patterns around the sensitive underside of Mochi’s cock takes all your concentration.

It feels like a victory when his eyes close on a sigh.

Your left side is suddenly crowded, and you pull off Mochi’s dick to see which man wants a piece of you now. Only, it is Kokonoi with his phone in your face. The angle captures the obscene stretch of your lips as they part to take cock, the fire in your eyes.

Furious, you flip the camera off.

In the tangle of limbs and hormones, you completely forgot that Kokonoi would be filming all of this. Maybe he has been filming the whole time. Only now he has invaded your debauchery, made himself obtrusive. He is unwelcome.

You open your mouth to tell whoever someday watches this video exactly what you think of them, but Mochi’s cock shoving back inside silences you. Rindou is there, holding your head down, forcing you to accept Mochi’s dick all the way to the back of your mouth. And the camera is there, too, centimeters from your face to capture it.

“There we go, just like that,” Mochi says quietly as Rindou draws you back by the hair. Spit connects you both even as you gasp for breath.

“Smile pretty for the camera, slut. Kakucho’s going to want to watch this later,” Rindou coos.

He forces your head back down again. Hard this time. So hard, that you cough around the intrusion. Your throat is a closed door, and Mochi’s cock a merciless battering ram against it. Tearing up, you forget all about the camera so close to your face.

“What the fuck, Kakucho? Never trained your girl’s throat before?” Rindou demands. No matter how hard he pushes, your throat does not budge, and you just choke uselessly.

Displeased by your pointless gagging, Rindou yanks your head back slightly, so Mochi’s cock lays heavy on your tongue but doesn’t choke you, and then he starts to push. Back and forth, fast and shallow on it. You can barely breathe. Your scalp stings from the not-so-gentle hair pulling. Slobber leaks from the side of your mouth. It’s better than gagging, but not by much.

“Ignore him,” Kakucho says, which is impossible when Rindou is treating you like a defective bobble head doll. “You suck my cock so good, babe.”

Well, that’s nice at least.

Your vision starts to go dotty as brain and blood slosh around your abused skull. Feeling the strength of these men, you know every one of them would be deadly in a fight. You have faith in your skills, maybe enough to survive them one-on-one, but the way they come together, relying on numbers to completely subdue you, it galls. And it frightens you just a little.

Helpless, you slap a hand on Mochi’s thigh in the hope he’ll ease up.

Rindou forces your head up and down a few more times as if to prove he can, hand gripping your chin and digging his fingers into the hollows of your cheeks. Then, finally, he draws you back to waiting oxygen. Strands of messy hair fall in every direction, and you cough delicately a few times.

Pretty quickly, you are forced back under, though this time pointed to Mochi’s balls. This is something you can do, so you eagerly begin to lap and suck at them as Mochi jerks his own dick above your face.

“Not bad,” Mochi grunts. “Just try to look happier about it. I like a woman who looks happy in her place.”

You might have some choice words for that, but Ran speaks for you, “Oh, I’ll make her happy.”

The easy pace he has favored until now accelerates. His hips rise fast and hard to meet your raised ones. There is nowhere to escape with his hands holding your waist in place. The impact makes every soft bit of you jiggle. It also forces pathetic gasps from your lips as those hips grind so perfectly to ensure every one of your sweet spots is caressed.

“Fuck, look at that ass bounce,” Ran moans. “What a fucking view. Just beautiful.”

You decide you like Ran. It feels so nice to be complimented and wanted. Pleased you gurgle all over Mochi’s balls, bubbles of spit that you smear up the underside of his shaft with your nose. Now, he is moaning, too.

Someone pets your hair, and you glance to the side expecting Rindou, but it’s Kakucho. He’s risen from his seat for the first time to crouch beside you.

You are unprepared for the rush of love that expands your chest cavity. Your beautiful, caring man. Yours. You smile at him messily, and he smiles back.

“Think you can cum again, babe?” Kakucho asks in his deep growling voice.

Now that he mentions it…you can feel that little bubble of rising pleasure. Yeah, just there whenever Ran pierces through to your deepest parts. Each thrust is like a punch that knocks the air out of you and leaves you feeling a little lighter.

“Squeeze him tight. Hard as you can. Make it hurt to pull out of your hot cunt,” Kakucho orders.

“Assho–”

Ran descends into a muted mumble, his curse obliterated, as you obediently clench every muscle in your body. Your already tight pussy grips down like a submission hold around him. It makes it harder for him to thrust, so his cock lingers deep and heavy. It makes him feel bigger inside you.

You catch a glimpse of the camera as Kokonoi angles it over Mochi’s shoulder. You moan and gurgle around Mochi’s balls without a care in the world. The expression on your face is content, euphoric even, and you hold steady eye contact with the camera.

A smarting pinch to your nipple makes you gasp. There is Rindou to grope and squeeze with one hand as his other abuses his hard cock fast and rough.

All of these men around you, using you, pleasuring you. It’s too much. You start to cum again with pathetic little spasms of your hips and stomach.

You pop off Mochi’s balls so that you can screech and stammer through a litany of curses. “Fuck, yes, fuck, fuck. Harder, fuck me harder. Fuck!” A little slap to Ran’s lunging thighs to encourage him, and he speeds up even more.

You are filled with love and joy as you cum, like your body is made up of yellow light, a garden to grow and nurture every good feeling in the universe. You press pretty little kisses along Mochi’s tip to share this pleasure until he hisses and pulls away.

“Oh fuck, that’s it for me,” Mochi groans. A harsh yank of your hair, and he is cumming all over your face. The milky fluid smears across your cheeks and chin, some landing on your parted lips as you moan obscenely through your own orgasm.

“Sexy little girl,” Ran moans from beneath you.

His cock is gone seconds later, though his hands keep you firmly in place. You feel a stream of hot liquid splatter your back and then a second. Collapsing backwards finally, Ran drops your hips, and you fall backwards onto his prone body.

“Look at you making all the men cum. You are so fucking hot like this,” Kakucho praises from where he peers down at you.

“Yeah, slut can take a cock,” Rindou agrees. There is a sheen of sweat decorating his brown, intense concentration in his eyes.

It is odd, but you swear you can feel how desperately Rindou needs to cum. He has been so generous, to join you in this, to hold you steady and rub you to orgasm, when he himself can’t take any direct pleasure from you. You want to care for him in turn, wish you could do more, take his cock in hand or down your throat the way you know he likes.

“Cum all over me,” you urge, canting your hips up in invitation. “Cover me with it. Paint me white.” You mold your tits together in your hands to make an inviting cleavage, worry your lip provocatively.

Rindou jerks his cock faster, aiming down at your stomach. You are abruptly pushed aside as Ran, who has been lying beneath you, rolls out of the way. Bare and dirty on the floor, you pose your body until Rindou starts to grunt and his cum splatters down erratically. Some misses the mark, landing on the floor, but most collects in the pool of your naval and the divots of your hips.

Blissed out of your mind, you giggle up at the ceiling. Heartbeat thundering in your ears, you barely hear the sound of your own laughter. Your mouth is a bit dry, but that is the only complaint. Feels so good just to lie there, wet and satiated until your breathing slows.

Kakucho is there, too, sweetheart that he is. He sits on his butt, and strokes the ticklish skin of your inner arms, curls the short hairs at the nape of your neck, and peppers kisses through your hairline.

“You did so good, champ,” he says. “My fucking fighter. You did so good.”

You smile dreamily up at him. He is so lovely like this, pride in his milky white eye, love in his constant black eye. The juxtaposition and depth of his feeling as he regards you! This is how he looks at you after a fight. Never worried about the bruises that will heal in time but focused on your achievement.

“I love you so much, babe,” you murmur huskily.

“I love you, too.”

“Would do anything for you.”

“I know.”

Caught up in the depth of your love for each other, you could completely forget that there are still other men in the room, watching or cleaning up. That is, you could until someone calls out Kakucho’s name.

You turn your head and meet the fathomless eyes of Mikey, the leader. He is watching your interaction intensely. What is it you can see on his face? Boredom? Fury? Envy? You feel so close to Kakucho, to Rindou, to Mochi even, but Mikey feels like he lives on a separate planet.

“Clean her up, and then bring her here,” Mikey orders.

Kakucho stiffens a little, then nods. Glancing around, you see surprise on several faces. You scramble to follow what is happening, why Ran is now passing Kakucho a napkin from the bar cart, why Kakucho is wiping down your face and belly until you are almost clean again except for the sweat.

You stumble on shaky legs. If not for your experience taking punches and staying on two feet, you would probably collapse. Kakucho guides you over to the couch, over to Mikey.

Mikey sits in the center of the couch with Sanzu at his right-hand. The others are scattered around as well – Ran mopping his sweaty brow, Mochi checking his messages, and Rindou tucking his cock away – but all give Mikey a wide berth.

“Sit here,” Mikey says, patting his narrow knee. The man is smaller than the others, smaller than you even, but you feel the strength of his tensed thigh as you sit your bare ass there delicately. You try to keep some of your weight off him, coiled to flee. “You really love him?”

You look to where Kakucho hovers to the side, newly anxious. “Yes, I really love him.”

“And you would do anything for him?”

“Yes.”

Mikey nods. “Good. That’s how it’s supposed to be.”

The whole exchange is bizarre, and you rise but are stopped by Mikey’s solid grip on your waist. The fingers of his free hand sweep between your thighs to play at the entrance of your pussy.

Kakucho said Mikey wouldn’t join in…

You are sucked deep into the vortex of Mikey’s gaze, unable to look away from how oddly colorless they are. He strikes you as the saddest boy in the world, and you want to kiss him. Beneath you, his hands are moving, but you don’t register much of anything. It is easy to be pliant in his hold, to drift off.

Until he drops you right onto his cock.

The sudden piercing against your cervix warrants a shriek of pain. He is so deep, too deep inside your swollen cunt, and you feel your walls trying to reject him. There is no room to slip away though, so you whimper instead, begging him for mercy with your eyes. Mikey ignores you.

Staring down at where you’re joined through blurry eyes, you see he didn’t even lower his pants, cock jutting out through the parted flaps at the top. No one has undressed for you tonight, but this is different; here, you feel more naked than ever before.

“Tell Kakucho how much you love him,” Mikey says tonelessly.

You start to turn your head, but Mikey grips your chin preventing you. It is while staring straight into Mikey’s empty eyes that you say, “Kakucho, baby, I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he parrots back.

Despite everything, it feels nice. Just the sound of his voice brings you back to that euphoric place of peace. You squirm a little on the big cock inside you. It doesn’t feel half bad actually.

“Ride my cock. Hard. Hard as you love your boyfriend,” Mikey says.

The command paired with the impossible power of his stare has a hypnotic effect on your body. What he says simply makes sense. The harder and faster you buck your hips, the greater your love for Kakucho. He’ll be able to see it.

Confidently, you place your hands on Mikey’s waif-like shoulders for support. He doesn’t stop you as you put all your weight on him. Doesn’t stop you when you flex your powerful thighs to rise up high and then drop all that weight down again. A little umf of air escapes him at the impact. You are going to beat up his dick, and then Kakucho will know you really do love him.

Fast, fast, faster, you bounce up and down on the cock inside you. The feeling of it scraping your upper walls is fucking delicious, so good that it makes you bounce even harder, chasing more of that feeling. Your gummy walls are sore, and if you could catch sight of your face in a mirror, it would probably be split in a rictus of pain, but none of that matters when your clit catches against Mikey’s hard stomach.

The frantic bouncing in his lap puts your tits directly in Mikey’s line of vision, though he stays focused on your face. His tongue laps out and teases your nipples as they fly by impossibly fast. A hand gropes one and brings it more fully to his mouth. He sucks hard and mean.

It feels impossibly good. So good that you cry out, “I love you, Kakucho. Baby, I love you.”

Mikey smiles a little, toothy, and sucks harder. You keep calling out your love for your boyfriend. Your high is peaking, the room a little blurry as your eyes can’t adjust to your feverish movements. You are on fire, and you are glad to self-immolate.

Scooching across the couch comes Sanzu. His eyes keep flitting up and down to the cock swallowed up over and over again to…not your face but Mikey’s. Sanzu wasn’t supposed to want to join either, but apparently all of Kakucho’s predictions are out the window.

Looking at Sanzu is quite pleasant. He is like a cherry blossom in bloom, like bubble gum and strawberry candy with that pretty pink hair of his and the pretty pink scars that widen his also pretty pink mouth. Unable to resist your impulses, you card your fingers through his long bangs.

Lightning fast, Sanzu grasps your hand and pulls it away from his hair. Instead of pushing it away from him altogether, he brings the flat of your hand to lay across his throat. He presses your fingers to curl down around the edges of him.

“Squeeze,” he says, and then smiles brightly.

You hesitate, so Sanzu tightens his own fingers over yours until you submit to the momentum. As you use your free arm for leverage to keep up your murderous pace on Mikey’s cock, you choke Sanzu hard. Blood rushes beneath your fingers, a little fluttering.

“Not bad,” he rasps.

Then, Sanzu is wrapping both of his hands around your throat. You try to cry out a little in protest, but the noise withers to nothing as he squeezes down hard on your vocal chords. Most of the pressure is on the sides of your throat, restricting air but not denying it completely.

Your legs and pace stutter a little. It is difficult to continue to ride Mikey when a stranger has your throat – your life – in his hands. Two little swats that hardly hurt to your thighs from Mikey. He won’t accept second place. Even as air becomes sparser and tears enter your eyes, you force yourself to keep bouncing.

Sanzu smiles evilly.

Fuck that.

You adjust your grip on Sanzu’s throat to better cut-off blood flow and squeeze with all your strength. These fuckers forget who you are. You have years of experience with choke holds, the triangle, the guillotine, the gator roll. Maybe Sanzu is a killer, maybe he’s choked the life from a man’s eyes, who’s to say? But he is going to tap out first. You’ll make damn sure of it.

Your legs burn. Sweat slides between your breasts and down your sticky back. A gurgled moan echoes through Sanzu’s tightening hands. The lack of oxygen makes the strain worse. Worse yet delicious. Yes, like a tasty piece of namagashi fruit jelly melting on the tongue.

A crease appears between Sanzu’s eyebrows, concentration. Then, a starry faraway look enters his eyes. He looks like he’s the one rolling now. If you can just keep your body moving for a few minutes longer, keep going up and down, then he’ll…he’ll…

Red-faced and gasping, Sanzu knocks your arms away from his neck. Sanzu doesn’t cum, but he doesn’t reach for you again either. He slumps on the couch and just watches you. He is transfixed on the way your bodies move together. The look of an acolyte graced by God’s presence.

Released from his strangle-hold, a beautiful rush of oxygen enters your lungs. Your head spins. Mikey quickly grabs your hips as you start to tilt to the side in a rush of dizziness.

This is bliss.

Mikey’s cock is so good, and when you bounce just right, you can rub your fat clit all over his abs, through the thin cotton of his shirt. Feels so good. But you do wish it was Kakucho’s dick inside you now. Or better yet, Mikey and Kakucho. Yes, now that would make you cum again. You’re sure of it.

“Lub yew Kakuchooo,” you gargle out, giggling.

“Kakucho, she wants you,” Mikey says, voice unbelievably steady given the pace you are setting on his dick. “Why don’t you show her how much you love her, too? Fill her ass.”

You marvel that Mikey is a mindreader.

Kakucho undresses behind you. While he does, Mikey spits on his fingers and teases his way into your asshole. You are thankfully stretched from the plug you wore earlier that day, but the passage feels impossibly tight with Mikey’s big dick taking up all the space on the other side. Such an odd, intrusive feeling, but the couple fingers don’t burn as they fingerfuck their way inside you.

A moment of emptiness, and then you feel a lubed dick pushing against the ring of muscles. There is only one moment of rejection, where your body refuses to house both men at once, but then Kakucho’s insistence pays off, and he is fully seated inside you.

Full, full, full. Full.

How to describe the feeling? How to survive the feeling?

“Baby!” you keen.

No powers in the universe could compel you to keep riding now when you are stuffed fuller than festival yakisobapan. Your arms scramble backwards, wrap around Kakucho’s neck to keep yourself upright. Shirtless, your back molds into the firm, bared muscles there. The skin-to-skin contact denied you all night sends tingles erupting down your shoulder-blades. Kakucho presses kisses up and down your neck, dancing around the little bruises left by Sanzu’s fingers, sucking his own hickeys into the tender flesh.

“Fuck, you are tight. Too fucking tight,” Kakucho grunts.

“All for you baby,” you smile.

You kiss in a sloppy tangle of tongues, open-mouthed and hungry. All of these cocks have been an appetizer, and now you are ravenous for the main meal.

You feel so connected to Kakucho. You start to cry tears of joy.

Kakucho starts to thrust into your tight hole. It is the dirtiest feeling imaginable, and you stretch and burn around the hot cock. The best part of each thrust is how it pushes you back down onto Mikey’s cock, now pressed tightly to your upper walls and rubbing your g-spot cruelly.

Back-and-forth they penetrate you, and you, weakly, take it. Sometimes Mikey thrusts his own hips up as Kakucho moves forward, and they meet in the middle, where your walls separate them, and it is so earth-shatteringly much, that you feel your brains drooling out of your ears. You swear you do.

Mostly, Mikey stays still and lets Kakucho do the work of bouncing you up and down with his piercing thrusts. So much power behind each that your pussy milks the cock inside it greedily. Meanwhile, Mikey abuses your tits, pinching, plucking, and slapping as the mood strikes him. There are too many points of pleasure at once. Your brain doesn’t know where to focus.

Mikey looks deep into your eyes, into your soul. “If you love him, then cum. Cum all around my cock. Soak me with it.”

Here is what makes him a leader. The charisma to issue an order and know with certainty it won’t be disobeyed. A rip tears through your exhausted body as it forces up the orgasm required of it. Too soon, too fast.

The rush of pleasure is painful in its intensity, a bubbling as you start to squirt a little around the dick holding you wide open. Your pussy clenches tight, and the rest of your body spasms sympathetically, which tightens you around Kakucho in turn. Starbursts behind your closed eyes, flares, and signal lanterns; a cacophony of color, a symphony of light.

Kakucho mumbles something loving in your ear. The words don’t matter. You can feel through the thread of love that connects you that it is something sexy and beautiful. Your asshole becomes even hotter as he cums deep inside you. You shiver desperately.

Then, Mikey is pulling out of your clenching pussy, and cumming himself. Fat globs of cum land on your thighs and the top of your mound. You see his cock clearly for the first time, so unnaturally large on his small figure. It quickly wilts after emptying all over you.

Your own orgasm quivers through you for a few seconds more, elongated by the softening length of Kakucho still in your ass. Then, you too are returned to earth.

Everything is too bright, too harsh. Gingerly as you can, you lift yourself off Mikey’s lap. The motion causes Kakucho to slip out of you. The couch is there to catch your limp body as you sink into exhaustion.

You look up and see Kokonoi there, still with the camera trained at you. No, trained to your lower body. Cum oozes out of your asshole to stain the couch, and he captures the whole thing.

Fucking filthy. And you love it.

Kakucho folds right beside you on the couch. The sticky side of him presses against yours. He looks like he’s just finished up at the gym. If the gym kicked his ass.

“Well, then,” Mochi says from his own seat.

Everyone looks to Mikey, still slumped with his soft dick out. Already he looks bored again, like gangbangs are a regular occurrence for him.

Ran strikes a cigarette.

“Welcome to the family, [y/n],” Mikey says. The others are quick to chime in their agreement.

The family, huh? The strangest fucking family you’ve ever seen.

Still, you can’t help but think they have their uses.

As your eyes flutter closed for a well-deserved nap, you remind yourself that you’ll need to ask Kokonoi for a copy of that tape.

It just might have its uses, too.

#tokyo revengers smut #kakucho x reader #kakucho smut #mikey x reader #mikey smut #ran x reader #ran smut #rindou x reader #rindou smut #sanzu x reader #sanzu smut #mochi x reader #mochi smut #in the belly of the beast #heed the warnings please

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