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jesi555 · 18 days

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Sacrificed

Pairing: God!Madara Uchiha x Reader

Genre: Oneshot, filthy filthy smut

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: too many to count, afab!reader, rough sex, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, the Uchiha breeding kink, creampie, unprotected sex, aphrodisiacs, Madara has a big dick Uchiha, blindfolds, hands are tied, stomach bulge, mating press, overstimulation, some temperature play, strong language

A/N: This monstrosity has way too many tags, forgive me if I didn't tag every kink. Honestly this was only supposed to have like, two kinks or so, but uh obviously that did not happen and I'm not sorry about it. If this one does well enough I plan on writing a Sacrificed for each of the founders trio, and if I feel the inspiration after that I could add other Naruto characters as well so, let me know if that's something you'd be interested in.

A HUGE thank you to @therantingfangirl for helping me edit this oversized self indulgence! She's the best you guys, I love her and you should send some love her way! This wouldn't have been out as quickly, and would've had many more typos lol, if not for her. So tell her thank you for me~

edit 7/30/22: WE NOW HAVE ART!! A biiiig huge thank you to the amazing @skydaddy01 for their incredible art. They did a fanfuckingtastic job creating god!Madara's appearance, especially with so little to go off of because I'm bad at asking for things. Seriously, go check them out, especially if you like the art~

Without further ado, enjoy Sacrificed (Sun)

Read it on AO3

Villagers scattered about, decorating homes and streets alike, preparing drums and costumes with jovial attitudes; the excitement was palpable. Most everyone looked forward to the Festival of the Sun, it was hard not to! The music, the ritual dancing, the offerings of food and wine to the gods as well as loved ones were certainly something to be excited about. The festivities themselves lasted for an entire week. It had to in order to entice him down from his place of rest. He was hard to excite, after all.

The Festival of the Sun is performed once a year before the cold season begins in order to plead with the sun god for protection from death during the upcoming frost. At the peak of the festivities, a living sacrifice is offered to the deity, but seldom does he come down. Most sacrifices come back without having even felt his presence, however throughout the history of the festival there were rare instances of his sacrifice being found dead at the end of the celebrations. The manner of death was always the same, burnt from the inside out. These instances came to be synonymous with having met him.

That fact made you, the sacrifice chosen for the upcoming celebrations, a bit nauseated. The idea of meeting the sun god made you nervous for many reasons; you were his devout follower, a young peasant chosen by the temple due to your dedication to your faith. At least, that’s what they told you when they notified you of your impending position. Your faith was well known in the village, you made the hike to his temple every two days without fail and prayed for hours in his sanctuary as well as volunteered to help clean the entirety of his temple.

His statues had always entranced you and you often wondered if that was what he really looked like. Was he really that tall and broad? Certainly awe inspiring if true. You’d run the soapy cloth along the carvings of his hair and close your eyes, guiltily pretending you were running your fingers through his majestic locks, it was so long, and the artist made it look so wild and untamed, giving his likeness a dangerous edge that made you bite your bottom lip. It would not be an exaggeration to say you were attracted to your god, or rather to the idea of him.

You had never met him or even heard his words as some priests had claimed to have heard. The high priest, the one who informed you of your role in the festivities, had said that your devotion moved the god and he had asked for you; that made you roll your eyes. As if the sun god himself would ask for you. The odd one, no family or friends, let alone a dating history, or anything of the sort that would catch the attention of anyone let alone such a powerful and incredible god. No matter, it would just mean another year without his appearance, though there is the possibility he’s so enraged by your presentation that he decides to burn you like the others.

He was not known for his mercy, after all. His lust for blood was legendary and his rivalry with the god of the forests still affects humanity despite their typically dormant state. Their battles have scored the earth and ruined oceans, much to the god of the sea’s displeasure. The temple texts state that the gods of forest and sun reawaken every century to continue their discourse. Were the previously killed sacrifices burned for his amusement or was he displeased with their appearance? Being burnt from the inside out at the hands of your beloved deity, was that your destined end?

As you contemplated your possible demise, the festival began. For the first three days your job was to stay in the temple. You were to pray all day, bathe in the ceremonial waters, and eat only the fruits provided. Each day the ceremonial drumming, which was performed as the sun began to set and would continue until sunrise, could be heard despite the temples stone walls. Their beat entrancing and familiar. It gave you something to look forward to as you prayed without response.

On the fourth day you weren’t allowed to eat anything, only drink a strangely viscus and milky liquid with no taste that left the core of your being feeling cold. The usual warm bath with citrus scents was replaced with the same cold and thick liquid you were forced to drink. Are they trying to give me a cold before they send me to my death? You thought as you shivered. The older priestesses were made to wash you, they rubbed the fluid into every part of your being. Maybe I’ll freeze before I’m burnt alive.

It was almost like a massage, the way the older women prepared you. The way they rubbed the fluid into the flesh of your breasts made you blush, and the blush only deepened when your sex was given the same amount of attention and pressure. You bit your lip and squeezed your eyes shut. The feeling was a bit unusual. Heat began to swirl in your center, and it helped you fight off the cold for the rest of the bath.

When you were brought out of the bath rolls of white and red silk were draped around your body in odd patterns. The material itself felt wonderful but they tied the red pieces around your arms and neck, while the white silk they used to bind your chest and cover your mound. It was an odd feeling, only being partially dressed and your abdomen being bare made you flush in embarrassment. They tied your hair back in a braid that was as long as your hair would allow, and they twisted the same type of red silk around it. You were not allowed to look at your own appearance and one of the women led you out of the temple without so much as a word.

Once outside you began to shiver again and your bare feet gracing the soft grass only made you feel colder. The breeze made goose flesh begin to rise along your skin and you wrapped your arms around yourself to try and keep warm. Sounds of the villagers enjoying the festival gave you something to focus on. What would you be doing, if you were not here? Enjoying some wine perhaps, dancing around the oversized fire that was lit in your god’s honor? Mmm maybe even enjoying a full plate of roast boar, your stomach grumbled at the thought.

A group of priests, including the high priest, emerged from the temple and began to lead you further to the west of the temple. On that side there was a trail. Most everyone knew of the trail, but it was not to be used by anyone but the blessed. It led up to the highest peak in the valley and at the top stood a temple made specifically to hold the sun god’s presence when he graced the earth.

The high priest ushered you onto the trail and began to walk in front of you, the others following behind. The entire hike up felt very stiff and uncomfortable, it made you more nervous than you already were. The high priest stopped, as did you, right before the doors to the sacred temple. It was much grander, the walls made of marble instead of stone with gold gilded doors and carvings of suns in the luxurious columns. A strong wind practically blew through you, and you wondered if you’d ever feel warm again. A quick glance around at the people meant to guide you made your stomach twist in knots. They all had such grave expressions. You wondered what was next and began to try to convey your question with your eyes but they refused look at you. “Um,” you began. “Excuse-“

A loud shout rang out from the village, the signal to start the drums. Startled, you glanced at the sky and saw that the sun had begun to set. The high priest turned and walked until he was right in front of you. He began to press a large flask of what looked to be the same viscous liquid into your hands while a different priest came behind you and began to tie a red ribbon made of the same silk tightly around your eyes. The cool material caused your heart to beat as hard as the drums. “Drink this once the sun has fully set, there will be more inside, be sure to drink all of it throughout the next few days.”

Your breathing picked up. Someone, you weren’t sure who, began to tie your wrists together in front of you. “Do not attempt to look at him,” the high priest spoke again. “Do not try to touch him, only he can initiate contact. You may roam around the temple but do not leave it.” How did he expect you to roam without being able to see? “We will be back at the end of the festival to collect you, do as we say and as he says and you will survive,” he paused, “probably.”

You nodded nervously; you couldn’t see his face but could feel the sense of dread in the air. “Alright, let us begin.” Someone began to push you forward and you felt your bare feet touch the chilled marble, heard the large doors creak open, and felt the plush of a cushion as they sat you down on the floor. Once their touch left you, the sense of foreboding increased. When you heard the door slam shut you knew you were alone.

You could hear the high priest begin a prayer outside the door, though it was rather muffled, you pressed your fingers against each other, and you tried to calm your nerves by joining in on the prayer. “Allow your warmth to protect and guide me,” you muttered. After a moment’s hesitation you added, “and your cruelty to pass over me.” And altogether you ended the prayer with an ‘amen’ though yours felt a tad more strained.

Through the blindfold you could make out vague shapes thanks to the small amounts of light; but that was all you could see, and once the sun set you would essentially be blind. You stayed seated for a time and fiddled with the flask that you had been given. The wrappings around your wrists weren’t painful or too constricting but they did limit what you could do. How were you supposed to stay like this for four nights and three days? “Where even is the restroom?” You glanced around at the shapes that made up what you could see. “Do gods even use the restroom?”

After a few more minutes of fretting and shaking you decided to stand and try to figure out what was in the room. You placed your arms out in front of you. Your hands may have been bound but you were still able to grab a hold of things. The temperature of the temple was colder than the temperature outside, it was similar to the biting chill of the nights in the cold season. At this point you wondered if you were doomed to die from frostbite. The tips of your fingers scraped against the cold marble of the walls, and you continued to glide your hands along the carvings to guide you through the area. As your vision began to worsen you knew the sun was almost under the mountain.

Your fingers brushed against a metal decoration and you began to explore the piece to the best of your abilities. It felt like a throne, a large one, with a cushion made of the same type of silk that was draped around you. The size of the throne made it feel a bit more like a small loveseat, you couldn’t imagine it being too comfortable with all the surrounding metals. Beside the throne seemed to be a short table with a pitcher atop it. The pitcher was carved, and you could tell it was well crafted by running your fingers along the object. It felt much too light to be filled with anything, much to your chagrin. You had been hoping for a sip of real water.

While there was still a bit of sunlight left you decided to try to explore the center of the room a bit more. You walked cautiously from the throne to the middle of the area and saw a shadow that seemed to be a table or something similar. It was a bit tall to be a table and you placed your hands on it and felt that it was also made of a cold marble. There were no chairs around it and as your fingers brushed along the edges you felt that there were words engraved on it. You wondered if they were gilded with gold like the carvings on the outer columns had been. Slowly, you attempted to read what was engraved around the table. “A sacrifice of flesh and blood,” you muttered. “Well, that would be me.”

“Is that right?”

You flinched. That was not a voice you recognized. It was deep and alluring, with an inflection that sounded almost amused. The man’s voice had come from behind you, where you remembered the throne being. Cautiously, you turned toward where you thought the voice was coming from but immediately had to squeeze your eyes shut. All there was in that direction was a bright light, like the sun itself had come to rest in front of you. Wait, your breath caught in your throat. The sun itself?

“A-Are you perhaps-“

“Yes?”

You felt so hesitant. Your heart felt like it was going to pound out of your chest, the urge to drop down on your knees and bow was at the forefront of your mind. There was a warmth, an intense but welcome warmth, that began to move toward you. Your eyes were still closed tight; even behind the blindfold his brightness was too much. Like a warm breath it felt like his presence was closer, but you weren’t sure how close. Without much more thought, you gave into your urge and got down to your hands and knees with your head resting atop your extended arms on the floor. Even the floor felt warmer now than it had before his arrival. “My lord!”

“Hm, not quite as interesting as I was expecting.” He sounded so close, almost as if he was directly above you. “But not altogether unpleasant.”

Your skin began to tingle from the contrast in temperature. Hot and cold. Internally, you still felt like you were freezing but externally his presence had warmed everything to such a degree it felt like you might melt. Lightly, it felt like just the tips of his fingers, began to trial down your exposed spine, like he was counting vertebrae. Again, your bottom lip felt the sting of your teeth as your mind reeled at not only meeting but being touched by your god. The same god whose likeness you had thought of in some not so holy ways.

“Is it still too bright?”

“P-Pardon?”

“I understand that my presence tends to be overwhelming for human eyes, shall I dim myself?” He answered his own question, as the harsh biting against your eyelids seemed to lessen and instead of a sun his presence looked more like a group of brightly lit candles. It hurt still, but you were finally able to open your eyes. You wanted to look at him, wanted to take the blindfold off and gaze upon his glory but you kept your head down, afraid of the consequences of doing so. “Thank you for your consideration, my lord.”

“Still so polite,” his dry chuckle was like velvet in your ears. You shivered, but not from fear or temperature; you wanted to hear him speak more. The pleasing thought of having him order you around floated about in your mind. Warm, overly warm, fingers gripped your chin roughly and had you look up at the veiled view of his face. “I like how you’ve thought about me a lot better than the way you’re speaking to me now.”

Your heart hiccupped. Your thoughts of him!? You could feel the color drain from your face. All the unsavory thoughts you had about his image filtered through your mind at once. The few times you had touched yourself had also been to ideas of him. Would he kill you now for your blasphemous behavior? Was he aware of all of them? That rich chuckle continued to fill your ears, much more amused this time, and he turned your head from side to side as if in assessment of a product at the market. “Don’t be so nervous, child. You act like I’m going to burn you alive.”

You were pretty sure he might.

There were no details, but from his outline it seemed like the statue was rather accurate. His hair was long, spiked, and wild like the mane of a lion; his shoulders broad and perfectly set. He barely had a hold on your chin but the bits of his fingers you could feel felt strong, large, and overly warm. The high priest had told you not to look at him but maybe? Just a peek? “Can I remove the-“

“Do you want to go blind?”

“What?”

“Do you think you can stare directly at the sun without repercussions? You’ll go blind if you look at me with your naked eye.”

“Oh,” you pressed your lips together, your cheeks red with embarrassment. “Right, yes, that makes sense.”

“Eager to see your god, are we?”

You wanted to nod but refrained and he let go of your chin. “You haven’t finished the elixir yet.” He said it as a statement of fact and let out a sigh that sounded exasperated. The blood in your veins rushed at a dizzying pace and you felt panic begin to rise in your throat. Had you displeased him? Would he leave because of it? Anything but that.

“I hadn’t realized the time, please forgive-“ Wet warm lips pressed against yours midsentence. It was intense and hot, so very hot. One of his large hands grabbed the back of your head roughly, forcing you to tilt your head back and he tugged on the braid. The surprise made you flinch, and your mouth opened slightly, but it was enough for him. He began to force a liquid into your mouth from his. It was different from the others; it had a sweet taste to it that sat heavy in your center. The warmth of his lips felt like it might burn, but the cool of the liquid soothed it almost immediately. The contrast made you moan, and his tongue began to enter your mouth.

Your eyes squeezed shut and you began to feel turned on as his tongue caressed and pulled at your own. Were you allowed to kiss back? How was this supposed to work? Another noise escaped you as his tongue scraped against the roof of your mouth, slowly and with intent. You squeezed your thighs together in an attempt to calm down. He pulled away slowly, allowing his tongue to linger against yours in the space between you. The sun god chuckled once again, “That face is rather enticing.”

If only you could see what face it was. His touch left you and the warmth of his being began to dissipate. “Resting for so long can be quite boring,” he began, his voice sounded like it was back at the throne. When you opened your eyes you could see the light of his being further back, it seemed as if he was sitting on the golden décor. It almost looked like he was slouched, with one hand against the arm rest and his head on his fist, but that was just your assumption. You had no way of seeing the details of his form. “So, while we wait for the elixir to kick in, entertain me.”

Entertain? How? Should you ask? What if that angered him? He didn’t seem like the patient sort. You heard a sound similar to liquid filling a basin and saw him shift as it looked like he may be drinking. Your heart pounded in your ears in time with the beat of the drums that boom from below. Oh, was that it? At this point in the evening, for the festival, everyone would be dancing. Is that what he wanted? The dance was created for his worship, after all.

You stood on nervous legs, your hands still bound, and listened patiently to the beat. When you felt you had a good enough idea of the rhythm you began the dance. It was fast, continuously moving, with moves similar to dodging attacks in a spar. When the drum paused you twisted your spine and bent backward, almost hitting the sacrificial table behind you, and stretch your arms up behind your head to touch the cool marble. The stretch made you feel exposed. Your neck, abdomen, and legs were on full display. As the pause remained, so did your position. It was difficult, but the dance seemed to warm you up. You felt the flush travel across your body, and you began to feel rather thirsty. You resumed at the same time as the drums.

Everything seemed to disappear as the song continued. Your muscles began to loosen, your tension nonexistent, you completely forgot where you were or why you were even dancing in the first place. It was like you were hypnotized to follow the music. One foot out in front and the other behind, your hands pushed out in front almost like you were begging. Everything felt warm now, your breathing was labored from exertion. Much to your embarrassment, even your core felt a bit sticky. Your hair began to frame your face and you barely registered that the braid had come loose. “Keep dancing,” came his silken command. So, you did.

His approach was harder to feel this time, the difference in temperature not quite as stark, but when his hand caressed the side of your neck you gasped at the excess heat. “I didn’t say you could stop.”

Right, more dancing.

One of his hands remained at your neck, curling around it like a collar and restricting your movements. You couldn’t move away from him without feeling choked. His other hand slid down the length of your swaying curves, from the tops of your covered breasts to the dip of your hips where the white ribbon was tied. The heat was almost sweltering and the ache in your sex began to grow. He tugged and the silk around your waist began to slip away, creating static as it fell from your flesh.

You couldn’t help but stop, your senses now fully focused on your naked lower half. Without the cloth your arousal was even more obvious, its evidence sticking to your thighs. “I don’t like to repeat myself,” he growled so close to your ear. A shiver wracked your form, and you did your best to start moving again, but his hand inching toward your center made you lose your rhythm and your movements became awkward. His hot tongue began to lick a stripe along the red silk wrapped around your collar bone. His warm fingers began to stroke the plush flesh of your mound. A fresh wave of slick began to coat your labia.

“Mm,” you pressed your lips together. You felt like you were on fire. “My lord, please,” you whispered, not entirely sure what you were asking for.

“Tsk, you know my name. Say it.”

He was giving you permission to call him by name? His fingers trailed down and began to stroke the naked flesh of your sex. The amount of wetness made the sounds of his fingers vulgar as he moved them back and forth against the sensitive skin. Your head fell back, and you gasped, his warm fingers immediately zeroing in on your clit. The heat was overwhelming, adding extra stimulation to your already pulsing bud. Your core began to clench, and your hips reflexively bucked toward his hand. “Go on,” he chided. “Say the name of your god, tell him how badly you want him to finger you.”

Your vagina pulsed at the thought. Saying his real name was taboo in the temple, but he was giving you permission. It was impossible to think, his fingers sped up their assault. Only incoherent noises left your throat as your knees began to buckle. How were you this close already? The hand that was around your neck squeezed teasingly, cutting off your air flow temporarily, before moving down to support your lower back as your legs threatened to give out. Instinctively you reached out and tried to use his arm for support before immediately pulling your hands back. They burned, like you had touched a hot stove.

“Do not try to touch him, only he can initiate contact.” The high priest’s words rang out in your mind.

“Weren’t you warned pet?” His head leaned down to your burnt hands, his fingers not ceasing, and he licked along your palms as if to soothe them. The mixture of pain and pleasure only brought you closer to the edge and you began to buck your hips in earnest. Your pleasured noises began to grow into full moans as you approached your peak.

Quickly, without warning, he removed his fingers from your clit and unceremoniously thrust two inside of your entrance. It burned, the heat and the pain of the stretch, but it brought you over the edge anyway. He hadn’t even had to move his fingers and you were already clenching down on them. Tears welled in your eyes behind the blindfold, and you called out, “Ahh, Madara!”

“How cute,” he announced, his voice a note or two deeper, the arm that was supporting you was trembling. “So eager that you came just from having my fingers inside you?”

Madara began to move his fingers, slow and deliberate, making sure to scrape them against your walls and ensuring that pain accompanied the pleasure. He moved his mouth to your neck and tugged at the red ribbon, untying it with his teeth and exposing the rest of your body to his gaze. He began to scissor your entrance and you felt the tightness in your gut return. “Such a naughty human, touching yourself to the thought of your god. Did you think I wasn’t watching? Did you think I wouldn’t know?”

You felt like you were burning, and you heard the juices of your arousal splash against your skin. His thick fingers began to thrust quickly, and he brought his palm up to rub at your sensitive clit. A whine left your throat. He continued his verbal assault. “I watched you each and every time you called out to me with lust. I saw the way your greedy pussy swallowed one, then two, even three of your own fingers. But it was never enough, was it? You needed something else, needed these fingers to fill you.” He added a third finger and you had never felt so full. A cry of his name left your lips again and that rich chuckle of his vibrated through you. “Well how is it? Now that you have the real thing, is it satisfactory? Are you still feeling greedy?”

“It’s good,” you slurred in a drawn-out moan. His fingers began to push at your walls in opposing directions and you thought you might drool. “So so good.”

“Only good? Well, I guess I’ll have to try harder then.”

All three fingers curled at once and began to press on a specific part of your walls. Your breathing stopped, your body convulsed, your toes curled, and your vagina clenched like your life depended on it. His palm pressed hard against your abused bundle of nerves, and you came yet again. But this one was different, more intense, almost painful as it washed over every part of your being. You felt dizzy before you remembered to breathe. His hand kept moving but you were at your wits end. “Too much, ah,” you wanted to grab a hold of his arm but barely registered you would get burned again if you did. Your sex throbbed painfully. “Please lord Madara,” you pleaded. “It’s too much.”

The sun god removed his fingers slowly but made sure to keep supporting you. You watched as the vague light of his being seemed to lick a trail from his own palm down his arm and he moaned deeply as he followed the trail back up to his palm. He moved his hand away from his own mouth and brought his fingers to your lips. “Suck,” he commanded.

Your tongue poked out of your mouth shyly and you wrapped it around the three fingers hesitantly. A grunt left your throat as you tasted yourself on his digits. He shoved the three of them into your mouth, not willing to give you the chance to continue to do as you pleased. Obediently, you sucked. The heat from his fingers almost felt like they would burn your mouth too. Again, you wondered what he looked like in full detail. You gently scraped your teeth against the three digits. “Good pet,” he muttered and pressed the pads of his fingers down on your tongue. “Now, lay down on that table. I’m going to take my sacrifice.”

Madara removed his fingers and let go of you entirely. You stumbled, almost fell to your knees again as your support disappeared. Thanks to the light of his being you were able to see the shadows that made up the cold marble of said sacrificial table. As much as you tried to make your crawl a top it look sexy, you fumbled a few times. It was rather high, making it difficult to crawl onto, but your inability to be graceful didn’t seem to deter him as he was atop you the moment you fully laid down.

The sun god’s scorching lips graced yours once more and this time you tried to meet his tongue stroke for stroke. His impossibly warm palms enveloped your breasts and began to mold them to his liking, almost as if he was trying to change their shape to his hands. For the first time you felt his entire body as it pressed against you. His muscles were firm as they met your squishy flesh and the hardness of his arousal rubbed against your belly in interest. It leaked with precum and the thought of that being your doing gave you butterflies. Slowly he pulled away, he seemed to sit up for a second as you heard the sounds of a glass bottle opening. His own breathing sounded labored, but it paused as he began to gulp down whatever he had opened.

When he was seemingly satisfied, he pressed his lips to yours again, and much like the first kiss, forced the liquid down your throat. Some of it dribbled down the side of your mouth, being too much to swallow all at once, but it didn’t seem to bother him as he continued to aggressively explore your mouth. What surprised you was when he began to pour out the chilled liquid onto your overheated sex. Your back arched, the contrast in temperatures a shock to your system.

He threw the glass bottle away and it broke against the flooring with a loud crash. His thick fingers began to coat themselves in the fluid and started to scoop it into you. You groaned into his mouth. Madara kept pushing it in, forcing it as deep inside of you as his fingers would allow. It felt odd, his hands and your body heat slowly warmed the liquid as he pushed it inside. The god pulled away from the kiss with a loud breath. “No more games,” he announced and pulled his fingers away.

The sound of his slick fingers against his own flesh made you shiver. You wished you could see it, him fisting himself atop you. What a gorgeous sight that would be, it was almost worth the risk of going blind. Almost. He lined himself up with your entrance, one hand holding your tied wrists above your head and the other holding him in place. His tip felt large as it twitched impatiently against your hole. Anticipation made you hold your breath.

“I’m going to ruin you.”

He thrust in and your jaw dropped. Big, he was so big. You felt overstuffed, like there were six of his large fingers shoved inside. Madara pushed forward more, your walls spasming around the intrusion. He was too big; it was too much. You felt like you were going to break, like he’d split you in half. More of his shaft entered you and he groaned, his guiding hand now reaching up to grip your hip and push you further onto him. It felt like he had knocked the wind out of you as the tip of his penis hit your cervix. Surely that was it, he couldn’t go any further. “Pretty little thing, so fucked out already and I’ve barely even started,” he chuckled, his words strained. He brought the hand that was holding your wrists down to wipe your chin of drool that you hadn’t even realized was there. “You’re so wet,” he grunted and pulled his hips back before snapping them forward quickly. You grunted, the drag of his dick the best thing you had ever felt. “Behave and I might just reward you.”

He began to thrust in earnest, the mushroom head hitting against your cervix with each thrust in, like it was trying to bury itself deeper inside of you. Your back bowed and he forced your hips to meet his. You brought your hands up and began to grip at the edge of the marble table. Your white-knuckled grip the only thing keeping you grounded. He brought his unoccupied hand down to your left breast and began to thumb the nipple in time with his thrusts. The shlick shlick shlick sound of each drag against your insides made your toes curl once again. You felt the heavy weight of his balls hit against your perineum and the slick that was pushed out with every thrust leaked down onto the stone beneath.

The sun god was more vocal than you had expected, grunting with effort, and groaning when you clenched particularly hard around him. You licked your lips, your mouth felt dry from hanging open for so long. Your guts began to twist in knots again and you knew you would cum soon. In a rush of bravery, you brought your legs up and attempted to wrap them around his waist. Immediately, your flesh began to burn, and you set them back down. “What did I tell you?” He sounded strained and he moved his second hand to your other hip. “Behave.”

“I can’t-“ you cut yourself off with a moan, his shaft scraping just right against your g-spot and causing your climax to begin again. He hissed and you felt his hair tickle your stomach as he leaned forward and his grip on your hips tightened. You hoped he’d leave bruises.

“Fuck,” he sounded depraved, and you bit your bottom lip hard. His hips continued to push into you. “Your walls are trying so hard to milk me, is that what you want? Hm? You want me to breed you?”

“Uhn,” you couldn’t help but nod vigorously. Your mind so warped with pleasure that you’d do anything he asked. “Oh, Madara,” you groaned and bucked your hips against his grip.

“You want to carry my bastard,” his voice thick with arousal. His large hands pulled you further down on the table and he put both of your legs up around his shoulders. “Everyone will know it’s mine. They’ll all see your rounded belly and know that it’s the seed of their god growing inside of you.”

The new angle was intense, he bore heavily down onto your cervix with every thrust. He pushed your legs forward, putting them up by your shoulders, almost folding you in half, and pushed into your womb. You screamed. It was too much, an intense mix of pain and pleasure that had your nerves confused. “Feel me reach the deepest parts of you,” he grunted. Madara grabbed your tied wrists and brought your hand down to your folded stomach. He made your hands press against your lower belly where you felt the outline of him inside of you. The extra pressure added more feeling and you whined. “I’m going to fill that pretty little womb of yours.”

His thrusts quickened, becoming bruising and focused. You kept your hand where he placed it and felt his bulge as it moved in and out of you. Your head moved back and through your lust filled haze you noticed that the edges of the blindfold had loosened. If you moved a bit more maybe it would come off? Madara moved one of his hands inward and began to stroke at your clit quickly. His pace becoming uneven as his breathing sped up. “You were fucking made for this,” he groaned out. “Made to take me, to be folded in half and fucked stupid.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you cried out and moved your head to the side. The silk slipped off of your eyes and you kept them closed as you tried to ignore the need to look at him. He felt so good, so brutal. Your clit throbbed and your core clenched for the fourth time. This was it, the most intense orgasm you’d have possibly ever. You wanted to look at him, to gaze upon his glorious face as you came undone. “Madara, please,” you began, your voice keening at the end. “Look at me.”

You opened your eyes just in time to see him look into yours. He was gorgeous, his dark hair wild and strung about him in a halo of black, his naked flesh flushed pink with exertion, his eyes so dark they looked like they would swallow you whole. His muscles rippled as he fucked you open, the lines under his eyes crinkling as his lips tightened in a smirk. Madara whispered your name and gave one more strong thrust before you squeezed your eyes tight in ecstasy. “Such a bad girl,” he taunted.

This orgasm was unlike any other before, your entire being felt tingly and a different kind of pressure built in your sex. When that pressure released a large burst of clear liquid gushed from you and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. Your legs shook, your walls trembled, and you barely heard Madara’s own grunt of release as he poured his molten semen into your womb. Your everything trembled and you felt like you might melt into the table below you. Your vision went from white to black and you felt your consciousness begin to fade.

“You may rest for now,” his voice sounded so distant in your mind. “We’ll resume shortly.”

When you woke next, you felt so disoriented. Your eyes were open, but everything was hazy, you felt like you were sitting on something hard but comfortable and you lifted your head to try and see where you were. “It took you long enough, pet,” came Madara’s silky voice from behind you. His chest pressed to your back and his arms pressed you further against him. “We still have three more nights of fun to get to.”

A/N: Again, this amazing art contribution was made by the one and only @skydaddy01 please go check them out and send them a huge thank you from me! Madara looks incredible, doesn't he? Uhg I can't stop looking at this art.

Part Two

Hashirama||Tobirama

Season 2

#꩜ naruto.#naruto smut #꩜ reblogs.#꩜ nsfw.#꩜ ily.

3K notes · View notes

jesi555 · 18 days

Text

Sacrificed

Pairing: God!Tobirama Senju x Reader

Genre: Oneshot, smutty smut

Word Count: 13k

Warnings: oh so many, afab!reader, rough sex, dirty talk, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, way too much overstimulation, copious amounts of cum, oral sex male receiving, copious amounts of fluids, temperature play, virginity kink, breeding kink, praise kink, power kink, aphrodisiacs, stomach bulge, use of inanimate objects for stimulation, Tobi-rail-me, Tobirama's schlong is too big, womb bullying, no refractory period, strong language

A/N: Holy shit this is so long and I’m so sorry it took forever to get out but it’s finally here and I’m so relieved. Again, sorry it took so long but honestly this thing is monstrous. Twice the size of Madara's and almost twice the size of Hashirama's. There's a lot of lore and references in here to the previous Sacrifices and to future ones but you don't have to read either to fully enjoy this.

Thanks so much again to my amazing editing bestie @therantingfangirl and my artistic troll @skydaddy01 for all your hard work helping me make this so great~ You guys are the best. As well as all my tumblr friends who have been patiently waiting and encouraging me. And thank you so much to all of you who waited and enjoyed the previous ones.

Now, without further ado, please enjoy the final fic for the first season of Sacrificed. Sacrificed (Water)

Read it on AO3

A child had been chosen, a young girl only 8 years old. A child with a bright smile and a love of the color green, a child who’d never known a day of hardship, who’s skin was unblemished and who’s laughter could brighten even the darkest of situations—your little sister had been chosen to be the sacrifice. Your mother had dropped to her knees, your father brought to tears, and all you could do was sit and stare as it felt like the world came crashing down around you. How could they do that? Under who’s authority was she chosen?

You wanted to scream, to run through the village and gather an army in protest of such a grotesque decision, but you couldn’t. Your body refused to work with you, and you were only able to sit and stare as your little sister tried to comprehend why her family was suddenly so distraught. The officials who brought your world to ruin stood there and watched, unflinching and uncaring, as your precious little sister cupped your face in her chubby hands. There were tears in her eyes, which brought tears to yours.

“What’s wrong? What does that mean?” She was scared because you were scared, because your mother wouldn’t stop begging on her knees while your father squeezed his eyes shut and held his wife back from gripping the hem of the officials’ robes as she pleaded for mercy.

This isn’t right, you thought as you squeezed your eyes shut. You wrapped your larger hands around the trembling ones on your cheeks. She’s just a child, if the gods are just they wouldn’t ask for such a sacrifice.

Why her and not you? You were an adult, passed marrying age, some of the village teens had started to call you the old maid because of your single status. They’d laugh as you’d yell back, telling them you weren’t old at all, but of course they never listened. That same question kept repeating itself in your mind. Why her and not me?

“That is all,” the highest official stated. “We will come to collect her for the ceremony next week.”

He turned, as did the other three, and they began to walk away. Why her? You tightened your grip on her small hands. Why must she pay the price for the rest of us? Why not- “me,” you called out. The officials paused and you removed you sister’s hands from your face and held onto them as you stood. “I volunteer in her place.” Your hands shook, you were more afraid than you’d ever been, but your resolve outweighed your fear. A child, not only her but especially one like her didn’t deserve to be so cruelly murdered for everyone else’s sake. “Is that acceptable?”

The group of four stuffy, old men seemed to ponder that as they looked at one another in a panic. They seemed to huddle together for a bit, every second that passed weighed on you like a stone. What if they said no?

I won’t let them take her.

Calls for a sacrifice didn’t happen often, normally the four-village alliance just went about their days as usual, but a drought had begun. The rains had stopped almost five months ago, the crops were suffering and therefore the livestock suffered, and with both the crops and livestock in short supply the strain on the people became too great to ignore. Even the fish supply, which was a staple for coastal villages like yours, had begun to grow scarce due to the low tides. It almost felt like the water was disappearing overnight. So a sacrifice was needed—am mortal that would be offered up to the water god as payment for the rains he offered.

No one knew what became of those who were sacrificed, whether they died at sea or, against all odds, were placed in the hands of a cruel god. They never returned, body or soul. Most assumed they died at sea. The religion among the people had begun to wane since the last sacrifice, many had believed the practice to be cruel and barbaric. The officials turned back toward your small family and cleared their throats. “We appreciate your willingness,” the oldest, who wore the most expensive robes, glanced nervously between the others before clearing his throat. “We will have the elder females come check to make sure you are worthy of the position.” They would check to make sure your maidenhood was intact, that was the one qualification you knew of, and you met it just fine.

“Very well.”

“They should arrive within the next few days, and if all goes well, we will arrive next week for you instead of your sister.” With that, they left, and all of your strength went with them.

You crumbled to the floor, your young sister began to panic, your mom clutched you and sobbed more as your father held all three of you tightly. You could only imagine how badly your teenage brother would react to the news, but somehow you felt numb. An all-consuming nothingness filled your chest as you wrapped your arms around your precious little sister.

Yes, your mind supplied. Its better this way.

The elder women came after two days and confirmed your virginity and whatever else it was they were looking for, after that you were told to go to the official’s lodgings every day to be prepared for the official ceremony. It was an odd affair, you were forced to kneel before a statue and pray to it daily, only allowed to eat lotus roots, and coached on the part of the ceremony that involved everyone else. You were never told what to do after your small boat was set afloat in the sea. Those preparations took up most of your day and when you’d return home your mother would try her best to put on a smile and act like everything was okay, your father would take every opportunity he could to embrace you, your little brother did his best to hide the tears in his eyes, and your poor little sister, who still didn’t quite understand but knew something was wrong, would burst into tears and cling to you all evening.

It was an overwhelming experience, but you fell into the routine like it was second nature, so when the day of the ceremony arrived you were thrown a bit off balance. Instead of lotus roots you were given nothing to eat, only a strangely thick fluid that warmed you to your core whenever you drank it. The time that had been allotted for prayer had become the time for grooming. You were placed into a warm bath of the same fluid, you figured it was to save on the limited supply of water, and they bathed you like a princess. The elder women massaged your skin and combed your hair to perfection. They painted your lips and eyes with crimson, and your abdomen and thighs were decorated with blue dragons that spewed water and seemed to move alongside dark storm clouds. Sitting still while being painted had been rather difficult, the softness of the brush and gentleness of the strokes had left you ticklish and tingly. You thought that viscous fluid had something to do with the latter, the more you drank it the warmer you became and the more sensitive you felt.

The women wrapped you in what felt like gauze. The soft material made the hairs on your body raise, you blamed it on the new sensitivity. They wrapped your breasts like they were being bound, then tied off the artificial top behind your neck; the bottoms were similar, wrapped around your hips and upper thighs until they formed a short skirt that covered enough but too little all the same and made it difficult to walk. Jewelry was placed in your hair, pearls of white and blue were scattered about your locks, and you estimated the price of half of those decorations alone to be worth more than four times the price of your family’s home. Probably enough money to feed your family and your neighbor’s families for two or three years, but that was only your estimation.

Your feet remained bare but they placed bands of silver with pendants of matching pearls around your ankles and wrists, they made a small jingle noise whenever you walked. When they felt you were decorated enough they pinned your hair up and placed a veil over your head. Your vision was obscured but the women took your hands and guided you to the ceremony area in the center of the four villages. The sun hung low in the sky and the people quieted down as you were brought beside the officials. The weight of what was about to happen truly began to settle in your chest and churn your stomach.

Its fine, you had to tell yourself. If it wasn’t me, it would’ve been her, so its fine. As long as it’s not her, anything is fine.

“Great God of Water,” the thrumming of your heartbeat in your ears drowned out most of the official’s grand speech, your brain was only able to catch onto the last portion. “We ask for your mercy and blessings upon us in these desperate times. Please, bless us with your rains once more. Bring life into our plants and our soil as we bring life to you!”

The villagers were full of mixed emotions, though you could not see it, you could hear the hesitation and reluctance to cheer from the crowd. “You are doing us a great service,” the official told you quietly, he kept a solid grip on your bicep. “You will not be forgotten.”

You were led from the center of the villages to a palanquin where you were commanded to enter. Once you were secured inside you heard the cry of a familiar little voice. Your precious little sister called out and tried to run after you and into the palanquin. Your father ran after her and picked her up quickly to keep her from climbing inside. You poked your head out and lifted your veil to see her one last time. A pain unlike any other gripped your heart as you looked at her tear-stricken face, and the frowns of grief on your other three family members. “I have to go now, little lily,” your voice almost cracked, and your eyes filled with tears as you called her by her nickname. “Be sure to watch over mom and dad for me, and don’t do anything to worry your older siblings too much.”

“O-okay,” she sniffled pathetically.

“I love you, all of you,” you whispered, unsure whether they would hear it or not, before lowering your veil again and righting yourself in the vehicle. If you had said anything more, or looked at their face’s any longer, leaving would have become unbearable. Your heart squeezed again, and you had to hold back the tears that threatened to spill and ruin the hard work and time that went into your face paintings. The palanquin stopped after what felt like only a few moments. A man you recognized as one of the many officials assisted you in your exit and began to lead you toward a well-known pier.

The sounds of the ocean had once calmed you, a relaxing sound from the time you were young, now the sounds only heightened your anxiety. The other officials followed behind as you were led down a set of steps and told to step into a decorated boat fit for one. There were strings of blue and white flowers placed along the edges of the boat and inside, the soft petals cushioned your feet as you stepped in. The boat rocked and you had to keep your balance as you clutched the elder man’s hand for dear life. Some of the water splashed against your feet and into the bottom of the boat, and you feared that there was a leak somewhere.

Its fine, you repeated to yourself, over and over. A mantra to try and collect yourself. You’re doing this for your little sister, for her, for your family. Its fine.

“Sit down carefully,” the man said as he helped usher you onto the cushioned bench and let go of your hand. You sat stock still, back straight, your fingers fiddling with the edge of your gauzy coverings to occupy your swirling mind. What was going to happen to you?

Don’t worry about it, just focus on how you’re protecting your little lily, your family.

The material stretched under the stress of your nervous fingers. “I’m sorry we can’t offer you anything more,” the high official began from his spot beside the one that had guided you. He handed you a glass bottle of the same liquid you had been drinking all day. “For what it’s worth, you are far braver than anyone I have ever met.”

You stared at him blankly, you were panicking, how is that brave? You wanted nothing more than to jump out of that boat, back onto the docks, and run away. But you knew that if it wasn’t you, it would be her and that was unacceptable. “Farewell, I wish you only happiness in your next life.”

With that, they set your boat adrift, almost in perfect sync with the sun dipping under the horizon.

It was a strange sensation, an isolation you knew not many could understand. You were alone, set adrift in the sea, not knowing what would happen to you. The waves pushed your craft along, rocked it, made it creak. Luckily for you, you didn’t get seasick easily, but the constant motion was disorienting. There was nothing to do but fall deeper into your racing thoughts; wondering how you would get out of this and whether it would end with you living or dead. Maybe you’d die of thirst, cooked like a fish in a pan under the sun after a few days of only the strange milky fluid to drink. That fluid certainly didn’t help with the heat.

A strange light from the corner of your eye caught your attention and you lifted your veil to get a clearer image. You looked into the water, leaning as gently as you could to one side. The light was soft, glowing and pulsing with its glow as it drifted just within sight. One soft purple glow became two, then became a third with more pinks and yellows; more and more lights began to show up just under the surface. They moved with the current, going in the same direction as your boat, and you stared in awe at the sheer number of soft lights. They surrounded your vessel on both sides, each one seeming like its own entity.

The blue lights were the most beautiful, they were few but seemed to dance to a tune only they knew. You dipped your hand under the water’s dark surface, doing your best to try to reach one of the creatures. One hit your hand and it almost felt like nothing. It flinched, its glowing body maneuvering around your hand to continue its path. “Are these jellyfish?” You tilted your head to the side, enraptured by the phenomenon before you.

You wondered how many others had witnessed such a beautiful display, and with so many all at once. Jellyfish were not rare, many washed up on shore or got caught in fishing nets as they floated with the current, but never had you seen any that glowed. It felt like a private show, just for you.

Was the water god taking pity on you? The thought made you frown. Allowing you to see some unseen wonders of the ocean as thanks for your sacrifice? Did the beauty of these creatures really make up for what was to come? If they really were from the water god- you cut off that train of thought, unsure what to feel. There was a strange tightness to your chest that you were unfamiliar with. Bitterness maybe? Twisted reverence and self-pity melded together in an uncomfortable whirl of feelings? You clicked your tongue.

The water began to grow louder, almost restless in sound. Reluctantly you looked away from the beautiful jellyfish to search for the source of the noise. There didn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary that you could see, but it felt like your boat was going faster, the water’s volume only increasing as your boat continued on. You glanced back down to the jellyfish below you and couldn’t tell if anything was wrong. They seemed to be drifting at the same speed you were. “The current must’ve picked up.”

To add to the beauty of your private show, you began to place some of the flower petals that decorated the deck of your boat on the water. Scattering them about to add another layer to the multitude below you. The blue and white petals decorated the surface and accented the glow nicely. You laid your head on the boat’s edge, relaxing as the moon shone high in the sky. The sound of the rushing waves, the motion that had nauseated you only an hour or two prior began to lull you to sleep. You continued to scatter petals as your eyes fell closed, your overheated fingers relaxing against the chill of the sea. Yes, you thought, mind caught between the waking world and the slumbering one. It’ll be fine like this. Everything will be fine.

“Lord Tobirama,” you whispered, sleepiness creeping into your voice. “Please, save my family.”

A flash of light lit up the sky, almost like a strike of lightning but without the ferocity of thunder. The waves grew larger, you clung to the edge of your wooden craft as it rocked with the aggravated water. It seemed even the jellyfish had begun to struggle, as their lights began to dim and disappear, leaving you on your own once again. “What in the,” the winds picked up and you held your hair down. Misty water began to spray everywhere, and you fell back against the deck as a particularly rough wave crashed against your boat. The raging water was deafening, the moon and stars were not enough to illuminate the now dark waters. You sat up and immediately wished you hadn’t.

A telltale swirling had begun in the waves a short distance ahead and you knew that meant certain death for you. Your panic began to rise again, your knuckles turned white as you clutched the back of the boat as if that would save you. What could save you? Was there anything? I don’t want to die, you squeezed your eyes shut tightly, the winds and water whipped your hair and made those expensive pearls fall from their delicate places. The veil was torn from your head, cold sea water crashed against your back and into your boat and filled the bottom with a layer of water, the flower petals floated up to your ankles and you squeezed your eyes shut.

Before your wooden vessel even dipped below the angry waves you were soaked to the bone. The whirlpool took hold of your barely afloat vessel and you never felt so hopeless. A deafening crack resounded and you stumbled like a newborn fawn. You opened your eyes in time to watch as your face crashed into the sea, the overwhelming current pulling you under and it felt like it was trying to pull you apart. You choked on the water, too startled to make any rational decisions. Your eyes stung, all you could see was darkness, the current kept pushing and pushing at you, you couldn’t tell which way was up and which led further into the depths. Someone help!

Something incredibly cold, colder than the water touched your outstretched arm and began to pull you through the never-ending darkness. You sputtered and coughed as you broke through the water’s surface. Your eyes stung, so you kept them closed. Your lungs, nose, and throat burned as you did your best to expel all of the salty liquid you had swallowed. Whatever had pulled you out had pulled you to a sandbar or something of the sort as you were able to stay on your knees and keep your airways above water.

Once you had finished expelling the water from your lungs, you greedily began to suck in air, as if you swallowed enough of it you’d never drown again. After a bit of calming down and realizing you were no longer on deaths door you felt alright enough to open your stinging eyes. For a while everything was blurry, no matter how many times you blinked to calm the stinging sensation it remained. Though everything was distorted, you could see that you were in a dark structure of some kind. The body of water that had been an ocean before was now a large square pool with lily pads and lotus floating atop the surface, a lily pad had even clung to your left side. The water came up to your waist while you remained on your knees.

You felt your panic begin to rise once again. How is that possible? I was just in the middle of the ocean how can I-

“You’re alive,” a deep timber. You looked up and saw the blurry outline of a tall person in front of you. Had he been there before? His feet were bare as he seemed to stand on the water’s surface like it was solid ground. All of your well-earned air felt like it was punched out of your lungs. “Good.”

From what you could make out, this man had light hair. Maybe white or silver? Your vision was still too blurry to tell. He had on some sort of long deep blue draping, a robe maybe? The pants he wore underneath the draping were dark in color, you guessed black, and the trimmings on the robe were of a silver variety. One of his large hands reached for your face, and you flinched at the chill of his touch. You closed your eyes, fear gripping your form, but all you felt was the gentle caress of his thumb across both of your eyelids. His hand pulled back as soon as he’d finished and the stinging that had plagued your vision disappeared.

When you opened your eyes again you were hesitant but felt relief at being able to see everything clearly once more. The white-haired man stood high above you his muscled arms crossed over his chest. You were right, it had been a royal blue robe, with filigree and dragons depicted in a sparkling silver thread. His skin was so pale, almost like moonshine incarnate. He had three red markings on his face, one on each cheek and one on his defined chin, each one came to a pointed tip towards the center of his face. There was a tuft of white fur spiked at the top of his collar, it matched his spiked hair.

He wore a frown on his face, seemingly greatly displeased. Under his silken robe he seemed to be wearing a tight black shirt, resembled under armor in appearance and it ended midway up his neck, covering his defined adam’s apple. “You,” he began, the baritone of his voice made your face heat and brought a shiver down your spine. The man seemed to think carefully about what he wanted to say, his arms flexed, you were entranced by the subtle rise and fall of his chest, his piercing red eyes never left your form. A sigh escaped him, you tilted your head, he began to disrobe before tossing the soft material at you. It covered your face and confused you. “Put that on and follow me.”

You frowned at the thought of ruining such nice material with your wet form. It was such a luxurious fabric; you didn’t think you’d ever felt anything like it before or would ever feel anything like it again. The more you touched it, the more you realized your dripping fingers didn’t bother the material at all. It was almost like the water didn’t exist, the material neither repelled or soaked in the water from your form so you finally gave in. It took you a minute to stand, he faced away from you as you stood, and you realized he was being polite.

The gauze-like material had soaked in a lot of water and loosely hung from your form. Your breasts were almost entirely bare, your right nipple on full display, and your sort of skirt had sagged so much your entire lower belly was exposed and displayed the fullness of your hips. You could only guess what your backside looked like and hastily wrapped the blue robe around yourself. “I—” you began, voice hoarse from the strain of swallowing and expelling sea water. “Where am I?”

The man turned his head a bit to glance at you and you assumed he deemed your appearance appropriate because he began to walk away. His feet left ripples against the water’s surface as he stepped on it like flooring; meanwhile, the water still swallowed your feet and up to your shins. He couldn’t possibly be—

“You are in my domain.”

“Your domain?”

“Yes.”

You were struggling to keep up with his pace, your body still bit wobbly from the adrenaline drain.

“I am Tobirama.”

“Tobirama!?” The Tobirama? Tobirama Senju, the water god? The one your sister had almost been sacrificed to and the one that you had been? He was real? And alive and well apparently. Without the robe, more of his physique was on display. His back was muscled, his shoulders broad but waist on the slimmer side. The shirt he wore had cut outs at his hips that exposed more of his milky skin and teased the defined bones there.

“That’s Lord Tobirama to you.”

You dropped to your knees quickly, your arms outstretched in front of you with your palms toward the heavens. You placed your forehead flat against the cold black stone at the edge of the pool, your quick action had caused the waters of the pool to begin to move again, the sash on the robe had untied itself and the cold water against your hot warm flesh startled you. “Lord Tobirama, god of water and keeper of knowledge, please send your blessed rains to my people.”

When he did not respond you decided to continue. “My family—my village, they will starve soon without them. Please show us your mercy.” Your lips trembled, your throat tightening at the thought of your family. “I know I am insignificant and unworthy but—” the high priest’s concluding line came to mind as you tried to win his favor, bring life into our plants and our soil as we bring life to you! “Please use my life to spare theirs.”

The silence weighed heavy after your pleading, and you dared not lift your head. Was he thinking? Was he angry? Had he disappeared? Your mind raced with questions, with thoughts and feared outcomes. Tears began to well up in the corners of your eyes, so you squeezed them shut. This was it, wasn’t it? You’d die by angering him, not having saved anyone in your family let alone the youngest. I’m sorry little lily, everyone.

Cold, very cold, fingers tipped your chin upward. He held your head in place to make you look up at him. His face remained neutral, which was better than you had expected. Those red eyes scanned your features, your eyes were wide and dewy. You had never expected the god of water to be so handsome, so human-like and yet still so ethereal. The fingers that held your face were so large and strong, you knew you couldn’t break away unless he allowed it. You wondered what he was looking for as his eyes scanned your own again.

Those cold hands moved and began to help you to your feet, they allowed you to lean on him a bit, your twitching fingers gripping his forearms tightly as you balanced yourself and hoped for the best all at the same time.

“I cannot alter the course of nature,” was his simple reply. So simple and yet even more crushing than the sentence that had announced your sister as a sacrifice. “I will send you back in a few days’ time, mortals cannot stay in the realm of gods for too long. You will remain here in the meantime.”

Your grip on his arms tightened. He was so close, but you felt so far removed that you didn’t notice the minute twitch of his fingers against your hands or the subtle downturn of his luscious lips as he watched your face crumble. The fact that you were stuck there hadn’t even registered until later on when he led you to the room you would occupy while there. Tobirama allowed you two rooms, one a very luxurious bedroom, decorated in dark marble walls with glowing pearl like stones for light, all material made of the same type of royal blue and silver silk as the robe he encouraged you to keep on. The room was so beautiful it made you feel out of place. There were bookshelves that adorned the walls beside the double doors; they were made of pearl with many tomes and texts, scrolls and leather-bound books, all worn and delicately placed like they’d been read and reread many times over.

The second room you were allowed was an equally exquisite bathing chamber. Again, the walls were dark marble, inlaid with pearlescent accents. The same pearl like stones glowed for light, and an empty pool similar in shape to the one you had emerged from rest at the center of the room, the edges and inside decorated with bright silver. You wondered how often humans, or even other gods, used these rooms but you didn’t voice your question. Your heart still felt heavy with the knowledge that you were of no use to your people or family.

“When I go back, will I be able to be with my family again?” The question left you before you could think about it.

The god closed his eyes and crossed his arms again, a soft sigh left him as he began to walk toward the heavy double doors that led back into the hallway. “I suggest bathing before going back to your bedchambers, that ceremonial makeup you mortals love so much has smudged everywhere from the sea water.”

His avoidance of your question irritated you.

“What use is going back then? If I can’t save them, if I can’t see them, I’d rather you have left me to die in that whirlpool.”

He paused, his back visibly straightening, before he opened the doors and left you alone in the unfamiliar room. The sound of the door closing shut behind him was loud and it brought your negative emotions to a head. You felt so helpless, so hopeless. The weight of your emotions brought you to your knees again, but you began to slam your fists against the polished floors in your anguish. What use were you? Was this situation? It hadn’t mattered that you took your sister’s place, she would still starve along with the rest of your loved ones. You hadn’t truly believed in the water god but some small voice in the back of your head had whispered the possibility of salvation, which you hadn’t realized had become a hope.

You cried your fill, cried until your eyes hurt and wailed until your throat gave out in protest. When your body wouldn’t let you cy any longer you wiped your eyes and nose and just sniffled. There was no way for you to tell how much time had passed, but a bath and sleep sounded like the best you could do at that moment. You stood and removed the robe and began to remove the loose gauze you had been wrapped in and used it to wipe off the smudges of paint that were left along your body. Across the back wall was a large mirror that you approached. Your reflection looked rough.

Your eyes were swollen from crying, the beautiful makeup was smudged, your hair was fizzled and damp with half dried sea water, the pearls and decorations that remained were strewn about in a tangled mess. A sigh left you as you began to pick out the decorations one by one and placed them on the floor beside you. When you finished you were surprised to find that the pool had filled with water without you having to do anything, but the more you thought about it the more it made sense. You were in the home of the water god after all.

After your bath, which was at best lukewarm, you replaced the blue robe and walked back to the room that you had been given. You were so tired, you decided to flop down on the plush bed. It was so soft, but so unfamiliar. What was there for you to do now? When you were expelled from the realm of the gods, where would you go? Where would you be? How did it all work? Those questions kept running through your mind until your body could no longer stay awake.

A few cycles of sleep passed by like that, you assumed they were days but you couldn’t be too sure. When you woke up there was always fresh fruit placed carefully on the bedside table for you to eat. You would partake in the familiar foods as you explored the hallways and rooms of the domain. You knew you were told to stay within those rooms but there was not much else for you to occupy your time with. Eventually you stumbled upon where Tobirama seemed to spend most of his time.

It looked to be a study, comprised of the same dark marble and pearl mixture, with a desk like structure raised from the ground for him to sit in front of. Bookshelves like the ones in your chambers lined all four walls, each organized but in a chaotic manner. The books and tomes in that room looked far more used than the ones in your own, which was quite impressive. The first time you stumbled upon him there he seemed to be studying some sort of scroll, brush in hand for note taking. Despite your anger toward him you couldn’t help but admire his appearance. Everything about him was enticing, from the elongated bridge of his nose to the way he furrowed his brow in concentration. The flexing of his shoulder blades as his arms moved and the subtle tapping of his bare foot as he worked felt more human to you than you wanted him to be.

Despite your one oversized robe he seemed to have found another to wear, this one was black with white dragons and square like patterns made of royal blue. A similar fur to the one that lined your collar lined his and you wondered if it was because he was cold. His skin had certainly felt freezing. After watching him for a while you’d move on to a different room, your second favorite one to visit. It was the room you had arrived in. The pool you had come out of laid at the center of the room, under a large skylight with columns of white marble seemingly holding the structure up. The sky that was shone was so unfamiliar that if you hadn’t known you were in another realm that would’ve told you immediately.

The sky remained dark, but a dark blue of sorts, with patterns of light that looked like water reflections being the only source of motion. The reflective patterns were very bright, and they shone down on the center of the water pool where an altar like structure sat. It was made of the same white marble as the four columns, and it had engravings along the edges of the pedestal. The only one you could make out read a sacrifice of flesh and blood and it made you wonder if this structure had been a temple at one point.

At the other end of that room, across from the altar and pool sat a throne like chair that seemed to be made of pearl. It was freezing to the touch and felt rather uncomfortable when you sat on it. The seat itself was far too large for you, you estimated two of you could sit in it with some room to spare, but you weren’t sure if it would be equally roomy for Tobirama. He was a rather tall man, with an athletic frame, but you thought he’d fit perfectly in the center with just enough space on both sides. The throne made you feel rather lonely, looking out at the empty room and still pool from that spot felt empty. You decided to sit on the altar and watch the sky from there, rather than the lonely throne.

When time kept stretching by, with only fruits, nuts, and roots to eat, and the oversized structure thoroughly explored without forcing your way into locked rooms, you began to comb through the texts in your room. Some of them you couldn’t read, written in some other language or the wording was too difficult to understand, but some were rather interesting. Most of the scrolls seemed to be religious texts, about the different gods and their regions of reign.

Like the sun god and the god of forests, Tobirama was revered as a long-standing deity. The tome you read had claimed him to be the younger brother of the god of forests. That same tome talked about other gods, one was even supposedly a descendent of Tobirama but he had been one of the punished so his name was blotted out of the text. Some of the other books talked about Madara, the sun god, and how strong he was and the many theories behind his rise while other gods like Tobirama and Hashirama, the god of forests, were left to decline. That particular part must have been outdated, as Lord Hashirama’s region and strength had seemed to quadruple in the past 30 years. Your mother had been born in that village and she had spoke about the abundance and grace of the forest god.

You paused a moment. The story your mother told said that Lord Hashirama had regained his strength after falling in love with a female human that had been given to him as a sacrifice and one of the handwritten scrolls you read had theorized that Lord Madara’s great strength came from the yearly sacrificial ritual his region practiced. “Then is Tobirama unable to change nature because he isn’t strong enough? Because there hasn’t been enough human sacrifice?”

You thought back to when you knew to be the last human sacrifice given to the water god, which was before you were born. How many years had it been? Your father had been the one to tell you about it, and about the outcry of the people afterward. Even when telling the story he seemed disgusted by what had occurred. “He was only 11? Or was father 10?” Either way it seemed there hadn’t been a sacrifice made to Tobirama in almost 50 years before you.

So what was different about you? Had you not done something important to complete the ritual to give him strength? Were you even enough? Did it have to do with your age? You couldn’t recall how old the previous sacrifice was but you thought she had been an older woman. Burning with determination and questions, you clutched the theory tightly to your chest and made your way toward the water god’s study.

You barged in, too focused on your emotions to think about the disrespect you were showing a god. He had paused his writing when you entered, his sleeve held back in one hand to prevent ink stains and brush in the other. The water god looked handsome as he always did, same black long-sleeved shirt but he wore another royal blue robe, the pattern on it was of silver water lilies and koi swimming beneath. It was beautiful, and he left the robe open for all to admire the tightness of his shirt against his skin. Tobirama looked at you calmly and waited for you to explain why you interrupted him.

“What’s wrong with me?” You blurted out, sophistication and eloquence being two words that could not be used to describe you at that moment.

“What?”

“The scroll,” you unfurled said paper and pointed it at it, approaching closer to his desk. He set his brush down and took it carefully from your grasp. “You don’t have the power to send rains or to even send me back, do you?”

He remained silent, his sharp eyes glanced up at you before his jaw clenched and he looked down at the scroll again. “You haven’t had a sacrifice in 50 years, so your strength has dwindled.”

“Wrong,” he stated calmly and set the scroll down on his desk as he crossed his arms over his chest. A habit he seemed to have. “It’s been almost 200 years.”

“What?”

He let out a sigh and looked you in the eye, a slight frown on his lips. “Gods often sleep to conserve power; I believe I have been asleep for about 200 or so years.”

“Then the previous sacrifices?”

He shook his head and his silence weighed on you. You pressed your lips together and rubbed your arm slowly. “Why did you wake up then?”

“I am unsure,” he paused and tilted his head back. “When I last went to sleep, I was certain my brother and I would sleep for the rest of eternity, but it seems there was just enough prayer to reawaken me.”

“Lord Hashirama had weakened too?”

“Yes, we believed that humans no longer needed gods so we decided it would be better to fall silent.”

“But not anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“Lord Hashirama’s region has been flourishing for at least three decades now. I assume he’s still awake even now.”

Tobirama looked to the side as he processed that information. “Madara too,” you continued. “He receives a yearly sacrifice even now and his people call themselves the Empire of the Sun and have yet to diminish. They are currently attempting to unite the continent.”

The water god’s fists clenched and his eyes narrowed at that news. “Damn him,” he muttered under his breath. “And has my brother done anything to stop this? To stop him?”

“I don’t know, I only know about the legends.” You rubbed your sleeve covered arm a bit hard and bit your bottom lip before asking. “So what do I need to do to restore your power? Is there anything I can do? I am your sacrifice after all.”

He let out a loud huff through his nose as he closed his eyes. The water god tapped against his arm as he seemed to think on things. Your chest tightened with emotion. Could you really end up saving your family after all? Nothing would please you more, even if it was something scary like letting him devour you whole, you would do it without hesitation. Tobirama uncrossed his arms and placed them on the desk in front of him.

“There is but I’m not sure how much power I’ll be able to gain from your worship alone,” he began to move his papers and scrolls aside. “Sit here, we’ll run a test first.”

Your heartbeat picked up. A test? Would it hurt? You approached his desk anyway and nervously sat atop it, making sure to sit facing toward him. His proximity made your face heat up and he sat and observed you closely. His eyes looked you up and down, and at the height you were atop his desk you were able to make direct eye contact without looking up at him. He placed his hands at your hips and leaned forward. His breath fanned your lips as your skin began to flush. “Are you willing?”

“Yes,” you whispered, enchanted by his voice and proximity. “I’ll do anything.”

“Then let’s begin the test,” was his only warning before his large hands gripped your hips and his mouth pressed to yours. His lips were cold, so very cold, and the same could be said for his hands. His low temperature permeated the silk of the robe and made your skin prickle. You wanted to try to warm him up.

Anxiety rushed through you as you felt his cold tongue press against your lips. What did that mean? You had never kissed anyone before, but his cold touch made your body heat up. Without much thought you wrapped your arms around his neck and unconsciously pulled him in closer. His tongue pressed harder against your lips and it forced your them to part. So cold, an appendage that was typically warm was practically an ice block in your mouth and you shivered.

He groaned as he pulled back, you were out of breath, an embarrassment unlike any other filling your chest. Did he pull away because you were bad? Did you fail the test? Were you not enough? You almost whimpered at the thought, your body continued to shiver.

“Are you,” he seemed to shiver too. “Are you still untouched?”

Heat rose, you could feel it span your entire face and the top of your chest as you nodded in embarrassment. “Yes,” you whispered, nervous. “Is that going to be an issue?”

“No,” he said quickly, his voice having taken on a deeper tone. “Are you cold?”

“You seem colder than me, your skin is ice.”

He smirked a bit and moved back before standing. “Stay there, I’ll be back shortly.”

Tobirama hadn’t lied, he had come back rather quickly, but with a black flask in hand. He sat back down easily and handed you the container gently. “Drink all of this and then we can continue.” Your body thrummed at the idea of continuing, so you did your best to chug whatever it was in the flask. It was viscous, and if you could see the color you knew it would be the same as the strange fluid the priests made you drink before the ceremony. Immediately your body warmed, and you shook from the contrast in temperatures. “Good girl,” he praised, his voice made your toes curl. “Now lean back and sit still.”

You did as you were told and almost gasped as you watched his deft fingers begin to untie the sash for the robe. “Wait, I’m not—”

“This is a part of the test,” he began. His cold fingers pressed against the naked flesh of your abdomen as he pushed the robe open. You felt hypersensitive, that light touch alone was almost enough to make you moan. “Stay still, and quiet, and then we can move on to the real ritual.”

“S-So, am I enough?”

“Possibly,” he muttered as he lightly caressed his hands up the sides of your form and stopped at your breasts. His cold temperature in contrast with your warmer one caused your nipples to harden; you pressed your thighs together as you watched his pupils dilate at the sight of your naked breasts. The light-haired man’s fingers twitched, and he ran them lightly along your breasts toward your pebbled flesh. Your eyes closed in embarrassment and a whine attempted to leave your throat. He paused, his eyes looking back at your face before landing on his forgotten calligraphy brush. “We’ll have to see how this works out won’t we? Little mortal, spread your legs for me so we can begin.”

You swallowed the noise that had threatened to leave your throat as you nodded. You opened your legs slowly, embarrassed by your nakedness and the obvious wetness that had begun to spill from you. If you could’ve, you would’ve brought your hands down immediately to cover yourself, but that would be disobedient. There was an unnerving feeling of obligation, both to stay obedient to him as your god and to hear him praise you more. The tip of his brush hit your collarbone and swirled down toward your chest, and you jumped at the sensation. He clicked his tongue, “Behave, little girl. Stay still and quiet.”

The brush followed back up the trail, leaving black ink along in its wake. The water god brought the brush back down a similar path, but this time he brought it all the way down to your nipple. You wanted to cry out, the tickling sensation circling against your hardened peak went straight to your core and you could feel your clit twitch. He continued to circle it, over and over, your breathing picked up. Surely that was allowed, right? Tobirama brought the tip of the brush down from there and trailed it along the underside of your breast down to your lower belly.

Unintentionally, your stomach flinched at the cold brush. He clicked his tongue again and brought his sharp eyes up to your face. “I’m sorry, my Lord I didn’t—” he shushed you, cutting your apology short.

“Remember to be quiet,” he told you, his other hand creeping up to your mouth. None too gently, he placed his index and middle finger into your waiting lips and his jaw tightened as you began to suckle on them instinctively. “There’s an obedient sacrifice.” You whimpered at his words, and he pressed his fingers deeper into your mouth, back toward your throat. “Do my words affect you that much?”

His eyes trailed down to the heated area between your legs and he tsked again, his tone sounded smug. “You’re so wet, from what? A kiss and some light caresses? Are you so innocent that even this little is too much?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, you could feel your clit twitch under his gaze, he let out a breathless chuckle. The brush began to move along your lower belly, right above your womb he swirled the ink in a cyclical pattern. Once satisfied, he trailed it back upward toward your neglected breast and paid extra attention to the nipple once again. By that point you couldn’t help it, you sucked on his fingers as hard as you could, but a whimper still left you. Tobirama kept up his swirling, you were so sensitive, your lower body unconsciously pushed forward as you felt your clit throb hard. “Mmm!”

It felt weird, you had never felt anything like that before. Your entire body twitched, and your toes curled, you felt a rush of wetness start to leak onto his desk. The building in your lower belly had relaxed but your sensitivity only increased as he continued to tease your nipple with his brush. When you opened your eyes again there was a definitive redness to his cheeks and the tips of his ears, his eyes were entirely focused on your throbbing sex and his breath was noticeably labored.

“So disobedient.” The feeling in your chest tightened, your high cut short. You disappointed him? His voice had kept its husky tone. The brush left your body entirely and you felt your heart drop to your stomach. “You couldn’t keep still or quiet,” he began to trail the brush down your abdomen once more, a swirling pattern that laid right over your womb once more and used your heightened sensitivity against you. Your sex ached, virginal channel twitching in anticipation of something you knew little about. “Those who misbehave must receive punishment.”

The brush trailed down further; the ink covered bristles marking your pelvis before drawing over your mound. “I’ll give you one more chance to behave. If you remain quiet and still, I’ll let you cum again,” his sharp red eyes, pupils all but swallowing the irises, stared into the depths of yours. You nodded your assent, and he kept the eye contact as the brush moved to your folds.

He watched you like a hawk, looking for every minute twitch and flinch, as he began to circle your labia before moving the brush toward your dripping flesh. It was incredibly difficult not to whine as the brush head grazed over your weeping entrance. Tobirama’s jaw clenched and unclenched as he started his assault on your neglected bud. You bit your bottom lip to keep from whining, the pressure was too light. The water god’s eyes narrowed as he seemed to read your mind and pressed the brush harder, moving it up and down in a lapping like motion.

You wanted to close your eyes but his own were too intense, too enticing, you couldn’t look away. “You’re trying so hard to please me,” he taunted, a tight smirk on his perfect lips. “Can you feel it? Every time I speak to you, your hole twitches.” He brought the brush down to circle your clenching entrance to emphasize his point. “Does my voice make you ache?”

A whimper almost escaped you.

“So wet and warm,” he turned the brush over and began to prod at you with the rounded end. “Little girl, this lewd thing,” his cold hands cupped your sex and you let out a quiet groan, your eyes moving skyward. “Such a salacious reaction is unbecoming of a virgin.”

The water god removed his palm and brush and brought them up to his face. “Look here,” he commanded, and you obeyed. His palm glistened with your slick and the calligraphy brush was soaked through, your fluids mixed with the black ink and dripped down his cleaner palm. “You’ve ruined my favorite brush, and my palm is soaked despite barely making contact. So obscene,” he brought his palm to his mouth and lapped at his palm, a visible shiver rattling him at the taste of you. His red eyes remained focused on your own as he cleaned his palm. “What is a god to do with a sacrifice like you?”

You were at your wits end; you couldn’t sit still or remain quiet anymore. It was too much, you were sweating from both heat and effort, your sex throbbed and ached unlike anything you’d ever felt before, your breasts were tender and felt heavy under the knowledge that he could be holding them instead. Even your fingers itched to hold onto him somehow, to tear away at his arrogance and get at the flesh beneath that cloth. A whine that felt closer to a sob bubbled in your chest and threatened to escape your lips.

“You did very well that time,” the god told you, almost affectionately. “Shall I reward you now?”

“Yes,” you cried, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “Please, my lord, I can’t—”

“Enough,” he hushed you. The white-haired man stood and placed one of his large hands on the small of your back and the other approached your heated sex again. You unconsciously pushed your hips forward towards his hand and he allowed his palm to make contact again. This time, however, he pressed the heel of his palm against your aching bud and ground down on it. “Cry out to your heart’s content.”

A loud moan escaped you and you threw your head back. Your reached forward and grabbed at his thick wrist to hold his palm in place as you sloppily rode it. Using his hand on the small of your back, he brought you closer to him and pressed his cold lips to yours. The kiss was sloppy, you were fueled purely on instinct. He seemed unbothered by your lack of experience, and he used his tongue and lips to guide yours. When you were right at the precipice from your rough grinding he pulled his palm back and swallowed your cries of protest.

Tobirama did not leave you waiting for long, his cold fingers returned, and he prodded one at your entrance. You were so wet that he penetrated you easily. It felt like the air had been sucked out of your lungs, you pulled away from the kiss to gasp as your body tried to register the foreign feeling. He pushed his finger in deeper and you felt your walls squeeze around it. “Nngh,” you groaned. The cold of his finger contrasted so starkly with the heat of your insides. He began to pump his finger, in and out, and the friction felt so good. “Mmm.”

“You’re gripping my finger so tightly,” he pressed a kiss to your exposed collarbone. “Spread your legs more, I’ll be adding another finger shortly.”

You nodded dumbly, your mind and body reeling from the pace he had set. His thumb reached up to circle your clit as he added a second finger. You were thankful for it, as the second finger made the stretch a bit more uncomfortable, but you were able to experience the same amount of pleasure thanks to his thumb. The noises that came from your body were sloppy and wet. The faster he went the more your juices sloshed and dripped, the louder your moans became. “Such filthy sounds you’re making. So depraved, like a whore.”

“N-No,” you whimpered. “I’m not—”

“Your pretty hole would beg to differ. Now that it’s felt my touch, its begging for more. Shall I add another finger?”

The tip of his ring finger began to press inside, and you shuddered, almost drooling. It felt like too much, you had never had anything or anyone inside of you before. His third, thick and equally cold, finger slid inside and the stretch burned. You grunted, feeling like you’d been punched in the gut and the water god began to scissor your insides. “This is all in preparation for the sacrificial ritual.”

“Ritual,” you panted.

This isn’t the ritual?

He hum in concentration, his digits began to thrust in and out, then stretch, then in and out again at a brutal pace. Tobirama removed the hand that had been holding the small of your back and used it to undo his robe’s sash. The silken material slid open easily and with that same free hand he began to palm at the oversized tent in his trousers. You almost balked as he began to pull his clothing down to reveal the agitated flesh, he groaned loudly at being free of the confines.

Tobirama was long, exceedingly long, and generously thick with a purpled tip leaking with copious amounts of precum. He was so hard, and you almost burst when you realized that you were the reason he was throbbing. Your eyes were entranced as he began to pump himself slowly, your hips bucking to meet his fingers with more vigor. His thumb flicked your clit and all you could think about was trying to fit that beast inside of you. “Lord Tobirama,” you cried out. “I feel nnn- weird. S-Something’s coming!”

“Then cum, clench around my fingers and cry out for me.”

“Mmm, my lord,” you whined pathetically, your eyes squeezed shut and you bit into your bottom lip. He kept pumping you with his fingers, his thumb baring down on your clit with almost a painful amount of pressure. His continued work heightened your orgasm and elongated it. Soon his fingers, his thumb in particular, became too much and you began to squirm in overstimulation.

“The ritual,” he grunted, the sounds of his hand working his cock melding with the sounds of your wet sex. “Mortal worship is what gives us strength. And what greater form of praise is there than sex.”

“Please, your fingers, it’s too much,” more whining, you sounded a bit hoarse, but your body couldn’t take much more.

“So, we are yet to be finished.” The water god finally stilled his fingers and removed them with a loud shlop sound.

You nodded, eyes soaking in and memorizing the image of a partially clothed water god, pumping his rigid manhood with his hand that had just been removed from your body. His cheeks were tinged pink, his ears had a dusting of the same shade, his intimidating and crisp appearance disheveled because of you. Slowly you slid off from his desk, your bum hitting the cold floor roughly. He watched you, his haughty demeanor returning as you sat on your knees before him.

He stopped pumping and angled his erection toward your closed lips. Tentatively, you licked it. You had no idea what you were doing but you wanted to please, to worship him as he said. “Good girl,” Tobirama praised as he placed his hand, the one wet with his own precum, in your hair and pulled you flush against his aching need. “Open your mouth.”

Almost as soon as you opened your mouth, he placed his throbbing tip inside. You wrapped your lips around it and closed your eyes. How was even this part of him so cold? He pushed his hips forward and you had to open your jaw further to fit him. The taste of him was tangier than you expected, but that also could’ve been the taste of your lingering juices. He moved his fist, at the base of his shaft, together with your slight head bobs.

The sounds he made were divine; low grunts and moans, a rumbling in his chest when you scraped him with your teeth, his labored breathing grew louder and louder with each passing movement. Your jaw ached but you loved the feeling of his throbbing flesh in your mouth. The longer you sucked the more of him you tried to swallow. Eventually he reached so far back that he hit the back of your throat. Tears were welling in your eyes at the effort and saliva leaked from all parts of your mouth. You began to grunt and whine along with him, fresh arousal dripped from you onto the floor.

With one final thrust of your head to his pelvis, he throbbed and groaned loudly as he spurt cold spend down your throat. You wanted to taste it, but your tongue had already numbed from the temperature of his cock. He removed himself slowly, a small trail of semen and throat mucus following behind. When he was fully out of your mouth you rubbed your throat. It felt abused but in a way you never expected to enjoy, you happily swallowed the gunk that remained on your tongue and didn’t need to be told to lick him clean. He was still rock hard and you pressed your thighs together at the sight.

He reached down and helped you to your feet. Tobirama fully removed his robe and you pushed off the one that had loosely remained on your arms. The god adjusted his trousers and you frowned in confusion as he tucked himself away again. He still removed his tight shirt, revealing a haven of well sculpted flesh to your greedy eyes, which gave you pause. “We will continue in the altar room.”

“Oh.”

“Do you know where that is?”

You nodded.

“Then go, I will meet you there. I have something else to prepare.”

Again, you nodded, throat still sore, and began to walk toward your second favorite place to be. During your walk there you had begun to feel cold, and you wondered if it was because of the cum you swallowed. You could almost feel it as it sat in your belly like ice and froze your core, but you couldn’t help the tingle of need that pulsed at your entrance at the thought. You wrapped your arms around your middle to conserve heat.

You waded through the pool as you went to sit on the altar to wait for him. As horny as you still were, you were thankful for the reprieve. It allowed your overtaxed body a break and your lust addled mind some clarity. Though with the clarity came the anxiety of being deflowered by the same flesh that had deliciously tortured your throat. A shiver crawled up your spine, both from the cold and at the thought of how ruined you would be afterward. Tobirama was going to split you in half, he’d probably reach well into your guts if he bottomed out inside of you.

The water god appeared in the hallway; he was still shirtless with two flasks in his large hands. One flask looked the same as the one from before, black, but the other had a dual blue and purple hue that attracted your attention. You stared at the flex of his muscles as he walked, his hair looked like he had run his hands through it a few times, but he approached you with purpose. His feet glided over the water like it had when you first saw him. He narrowed his eyes at your hunched form. “Are you alright?”

You nodded and muttered, “Just cold.”

He handed you the black flask again and you began to drink it before he told you to. The fluid slid down your throat like slime, but it warmed its way down and seemed to overtake the cold that had seeped its way through you. The mixture of the viscous drink and Tobirama’s essence seemed to unsettle your stomach a bit but it wasn’t anything to worry about. Those sharp red eyes watched you carefully as he leaned in closer. “Is that better?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Are you still willing?” That question surprised you. Would you have been sitting there still naked if you weren’t? Or even drank more of that strange fluid? You appreciated the sentiment though.

“Of course.”

“Good, then move over for a moment.”

“Whah?” He nudged you aside before he sat himself down in the center of the altar. The pale god sat and began to slide his trousers down just enough to expose his half-hard member and the swollen balls below it. Tobirama opened the blue and purple flask before beckoning you to straddle him. You were up on your knees with your hands clutching his shoulders. It was a position you had not been expecting, though you weren’t really aware of what positions where normally used in this sort of situation.

The white-haired man leaned forward and began to lap at your neck, both hands moving to cup your cold breasts. He pressed them together before rolling and squeezing them. You moaned softly when his cold thumbs began to rub your nipples. His lapping turned into opened mouth kisses as he made his way down your unpainted collarbone and to your breast, where he had conveniently, rubbed the ink off of your skin. That cold appendage left a wet trail from the top of your left breast to the underside before he enveloped a nipple and vigorously sucked. A higher pitched moan escaped you and you tightened your grip on his shoulders.

Before he switched to the right breast, he poured some of the liquid from the blue and purple flask into his hand and rubbed the fluid against your sex. He nipped at the pebbled bud in his mouth and smeared the fluid into your soft tissue thoroughly. With a breathy groan you bucked into his hand. The water god poured more into his palm and made sure to coat his fingers before pushing them into you. You leaned back on your haunches a bit, giving him better access to your insides, and you were pleasantly surprised to find that the fluid was warming up the more he worked it in.

“Mmm,” you bit your lip and glanced at his cock. It had risen back to hardness and your inner walls clenched at the thought.

Tobirama chuckled breathlessly, “That eager to be stuffed full of me, hm?”

He removed his fingers from your entrance, and you whined. His cock visibly throbbed at the sound. The water god poured more of the fluid into his hand and began to rub it along his member. The substance was also a bit viscous but lighter in color than the one you’d been drinking. “Get back into the previous position, little girl. I’m about to split you open.”

Swallowing nervously, you straddled him again, and your grip on his shoulders had your knuckles turning white. With his none lubricated hand placed on your hip, and his other keeping his length in position, he began to slowly bring your down onto him. The blunt tip felt good as he rubbed it against your entrance and clit, it had relaxed you enough for you to try to sink down on it.

The tip felt impossibly wide as it popped inside. “Relax, if you tense up it’ll make things more difficult.”

Relax, you told yourself. Easier said than done. You closed your eyes and sunk down further. The stretch burned and you bit your bottom lip. Only when you pressed down a little more did Tobirama let out a groan of pleasure. “That’s it,” he encouraged. “Just like that. Good girl.”

The praise made you want to try harder, so you took more of him in at once than you should’ve. It knocked the wind out of you, his blunt head hit against the spongey part in your walls that made your toes curl. He panted and removed his hand, no longer needing it to hold himself in place, instead he placed it on your other hip to try to ease your burden. Your hands shook, it was painful but pleasurable all at once, the feeling was almost too much. “Halfway there.”

Only halfway? You whined again as you tried to take in more of him; the whine only grew in volume as he rubbed against the most sensitive parts of your inner walls. His eyes were narrowed in on where your bodies connected, the sharp red was filled with undeniable desire as he watched your being swallow him. “Look at how well you’re taking me.”

“Lord Tobirama,” you groaned as you sunk down further. Your entire body flinched when he hit against a part of you that felt wrong. “Nn, I can’t take in anymore.”

“You were being such a good girl. There’s no need to worry, only a bit more to go.”

“I can’t. I—” you cut yourself off as you attempted to do as asked but felt that same intensity. You shook your head. Before you had fully adjusted to the fullness, Tobirama began to raise you up and down along his length. It felt like heaven and hell in one place. Every time his blunt head hit against that spot it tried to push a little harder against it. Your legs trembled, your brain too pleasure fogged to try and ride him. When he started to thrust up as he brought you down, you swore.

“You don’t ever want me to leave this hole do you? You’re sucking me in, trying to take me in deeper despite saying that you couldn’t. But look,” he grunted with exertion, and you felt a telltale pop as he pushed past the barrier. It hurt, it felt wonderful, it was too much. Your body began to spasm and your vision blurred. The highest pitched noise you’d ever made escaped your lungs and you clawed at his back, leaning forward against his chest to try to gain some relief from the feeling. Tobirama shivered against you.

His grip on your hips was bruising as he continued to bring you up and down, sinking deeper then he ever should’ve. You were a mess, tears welled in the corners of your eyes and you felt stupid. All you could do was moan and whine like a bitch in heat. “If I cum inside we’ll be tied forever, do you want that?”

You nodded, the pressure in your lower belly about to burst.

“I’ll sow my seed inside you,” he panted, his thrusts and pulls increasing in speed. You bounced up and down on his lap at an erratic pace. Tobirama continued to ramble. “You’ll take every last drop. The thought of you with milk swollen breasts and a round belly is enough to drive me insane. You’re my precious little broodmare. Fuck!” His curse was punctuated by a particularly hard thrust, one that smashed your clit down onto his pelvic bone and caused you to reach your peak. You felt a rush of fluid leave you and you whimpered as oversensitivity set in almost immediately.

“Such a good—” he thrust two more times and gasped as he reached his own end. There was a distinctive rush of cold as he came inside you. It felt like a lot. You bit your bottom lip and pressed your forehead into his shoulder as he relaxed his grip on your hips. The two of you remained like that for a while, basking in the post orgasm bliss. He wrapped his arms around you and kissed your forehead gently.

Exhaustion began to swallow your form but before you could completely give in he spun you around to face the throne. He remained inside of you, his member twitching and spunk leaking from you and dripping down his sack. You whimpered when he leaned your back against his chest and angled your body so that you could watch your combined fluids run down his darkened flesh. “We’re not finished,” he supplied before he gripped your hips once more with just as much force.

Tobirama bounced you like you weighed nothing, the new angle giving you a clear view of the indentation he was making inside of you. You placed your hands over it and felt him practically pulse both inside and in your hands. Your mouth dropped open. As he worked you open, again and again, more of his cold sperm fell out of your center and stained his skin and the marbled stone. “Look at what you’re wasting,” he grunted, one of his hands crept down to tease your oversensitive nub and cause you to flinch with every motion of his fingers. “I’ll have to use something to plug you when we’re done. You don’t want to waste anymore, do you?”

Drool began to drip down the sides of your open mouth as you threw your head back against his shoulder, your hands rubbed against your own skin as they pressed back against him. It made you feel him harder; it made him rub you more. Your entire being felt like it would explode, your brain too stimulated to comprehend his question. “Ffffn,” you felt like your brain had gone numb. “Haaa, ahn.”

“Hm?” He brought his hand away from your abused nub and up to grip your chin. The water god turned your face toward him and his slick covered thumb swept across your exposed tongue and abused lips. “Have I fucked you stupid?”

He pressed his thumb down on your tongue so that you couldn’t speak. You tasted the mixture of his and your own cum on his precious thumb and you felt that same gush of fluid leave you. Your entire being thrummed, your heart felt like it might explode, you wanted to thrash and to move away from him to lessen the intensity, but you couldn’t. His grip was too strong and all you could do was cry and whimper as you came again almost immediately after from his continued thrusts and blunt cock head against the very back of your womb. “My dumb little sacrifice,” he groaned. “A perfect little child maker. Spray me one more time, worship me with you entire being.”

His fingers left your mouth and he readjusted you to bend forward in his lap. The tears that had formed began to stream down your face as you shook your head. How could you explode again? Your essence had already sprung from you like a fountain; you couldn’t possibly do it again. Tobirama held you in place by your wrists, keeping you bent over and facing away. Noises you had never made before fell from your throat and squelched from your sex. You heard him grunt in effort and felt the weight of his sack hit against your angry clit once before you convulsed and sprayed again. “Mmm, good girl.”

You felt his cold semen as it burst inside of you once more. It collected in your womb like a pool and furthered your convulsions. He brought you back to his lap and rubbed your aching arms as you continued to shake, and he continued to cum inside of you. Despite the copious amounts of sweat and other fluids caked to both your skin and his all you could feel was the weight of his sperm inside of you and the cold it gave off. “Very good girl,” he muttered against your hair as he kissed the top of your head.

After an unknown amount of time you finally stopped whimpering and shaking, and your tears seemed to dry up. You were parched and sore but you managed to place your hands against the arms that held you once you felt a bit more grounded. You cleared your throat in attempts to get your mind off of the cold that permeated through you and the nervousness that his still rigid member, which remained in your depths, brought forth. “Did that give you enough power to save the village?” Your voice was so hoarse, so overused and abused, but the worst part was the obvious exhaustion.

The effort it took to stay awake to wait for his answer became too great and your eyelids grew too heavy to keep open. Your brain, exceedingly thankful for the much-needed break, turned off almost instantly and you slumped completely in his arms. The rumble of his chest as he began to answer was all you were able to register before total exhaustion embraced you.

“Little mortal,” he began. “There is much more worship to be had.”

tagged list: @therantingfangirl @skydaddy01 @justmyownreality @hashira-mal @sneetsnoot @ladyyanna @ttipsyy @hi-my-name-is-korg @silvermadara

Hashirama||Madara

Season 2

#꩜ naruto.#naruto smut #꩜ nsfw.#꩜ reblogs.#꩜ ily.

2K notes · View notes

jesi555 · 18 days

Text

Sacrificed

Pairing: God!Hasirama Senju x Reader

Genre: Oneshot, dirty smut

Word Count: 7.8k

Warnings: afab!reader, rough sex, vaginal sex, dirty talk, oral sex female receiving, creampie, unprotected sex, aphrodisiacs, praise kink, hung Hashirama, overstimulation, cum marking, kind of tentacles, no refractory period, Yandere Hashirama, strong language

A/N: This one took a bit longer than intended, for multiple reasons but I'm glad to finally have it out. I definitely wasn't expecting it to be this much longer than Madara's version but this did have a bit more plot going for it. Not that the plot is really all that important. As far as their personalities go I feel like god Madara would fuck anyone who moves and Hashirama would be too nice to be that way so there had to be a bit more build up.

Another HUGE thank you to the incredible, wonderful, amazing, genius @therantingfangirl for helping me edit and refine this one and for being the bestest of best friends. I really love her, she's an incredible writer, and if you guys liked my Madara Sacrificed then you should check out her Madara mirror fic. Its awesome.

And a huge thank you to all of you for showing Sacrificed so much love! I only hope this one pleases you all just as much!

Without further ado, please enjoy Sacrificed (Forest)

Read it on AO3

It was hot that day, the sun boiling and bearing down on you like it intended to kill you. Heh, maybe the sun god is mad at me, you thought, a snicker leaving you at the thought. You didn’t believe in the gods, didn’t need to. And why would you? They hadn’t done anything worth believing in, after all. Your village in particular had an obsession with the god of the forests. He had one large statue in the village center, and another two that guard the entrance to the forest surrounding the village; most people placed their offerings before those specific statues.

You wondered why; it wasn’t like there were any fantastical stories about him that you had heard. As far as you were aware he hadn’t done anything to merit such reverence, though there was the legend of his rivalry with the god of sun, but you didn’t find that particularly interesting either. What did interest you was science, medicine, those sorts of things. The villagers often called you a quack, but they did it endearingly. Afterall, without you, there would be no one to tend to the wounded. The original clinician had retired as soon as he thought you were good enough to take over. And you were damn good.

Be it morning or night, you catered to anyone in need, only closing the clinic two days a week but still making exceptions for emergencies. On days where you closed the clinic you went into the forest and nearby mountain to gather herbs for medicine. You loved the forest and all it had to offer. If you could spend all of your time there, you would. You took a deep, relaxing breath in and released it with ease.

“Woah!” You fell, your hands and knees hitting the ground first. There was a mild sting, and you clicked your tongue in annoyance. After standing and brushing the dirt off, you turned to see what your foot had gotten caught on. It looked to be a root, a long one that came from the direction you knew to be a small lake. “The end of a root,” you muttered to yourself. It looked unique and thin, odd for the flora you knew to grow here. “Hmm,” you scratched at the side of your head as you contemplated what to do. “Well, no harm in checking, right? Maybe its something I can use.”

Following the roots trail, you noticed more roots, almost identical in size and color. They all seemed to be from the same plant. “This has got to be one big tree,” you muttered. You picked up your pace, running in your eagerness to sate your curiosity. “How have I not seen it before?”

The sound of the lake reached your ears and when you finally saw the clear waters you paused to catch your breath. As you attempted to refill your lungs, you glanced around for any odd-looking plants, big ones, but the only unusual thing you saw was a large bundle of those roots. Carefully, still a bit out of breath, you made your way over to said roots. “How does this happen?” You crouched down to try and get a look at it from all angles. It looked almost like a cocoon. Puzzled, you stood back up and placed your hands on your hips. “Should I cut some of it?”

You reached into your satchel and pulled out the hunting knife you had for cutting tough plants and in the rare instance of wild animal attacks. “Sorry, I’ll only cut a little,” you apologized to the plant as you knelt and began to cut out a small section of the roots. They were tough, taking quite a bit of effort to saw through, but you were finally able to break off a length that was satisfactory. It oozed a golden sap, almost the same consistency as blood. It was a bit off putting. You glanced back at the hole you had created only to be completely taken aback. “Is that a hand,” you exclaimed. You reached in and touched the tan hand; it was large and dwarfed yours, but it was cold. You gasped, “A dead body?”

Thankfully you were able to manipulate the hand enough to reach the wrist and feel for a pulse. Your heart pounded in your chest. Please be a pulse, please be a pulse, please, please, plea- there it was. A weak but still there thud against your fingers. “I’m going to get you out of there, just hold on.”

Letting go of the hand, you began to hack away at the roots, adrenaline fueling you. You were going to save them, you had to. Your role as a caregiver wouldn’t let you abandon this task. It took a lot out of you, and you were covered in the strange golden sap by the time you were done, but you had made a hole large enough to drag the man out. He was also covered in the golden sap, and it almost looked like it was leaking from the wounds he was covered in. His long black hair was matted and caked, his masculine face bruised, and his jaw misaligned. As you struggled to drag him out of the roots more and more injuries began to show themselves. “Shit,” you grunted with effort. You usually weren’t one to curse. “Shit, shit, shit!”

You felt a bit overwhelmed, definitely under prepared. You had some of herbs that you had collected earlier, your eyes looked back and forth for a vessel to use to mix the medicine and make a paste. “I’m sorry sir, I’m going to have to undress you. I hope you understand,” you told him. You began with his armor; it was unlike any armor you’d seen before. A warrior maybe? It was strong and well made. Great, some rich guy. After his armor was removed, albeit not intact, you looked around to try and get a better idea of his wounds, however that golden sap wasn’t giving you a clear idea.

Picking the knife back up you began to tear through his black shirt. His chest was in as bad shape as his face, but that golden sap had soaked through to his skin. You tore the left sleeve off your shirt and made sure he was in a comfortable position before quickly walking up to the lake and soaking the impromptu cloth. “I will save you,” you promised, more to yourself than anyone else.

As the sun began to set you were finally finished with his first aide treatment. You sat with your back leaned against a tree trunk and his head resting in your lap as the adrenaline finally wore off. With your eyes closed you sighed and carded your fingers through his hair, attempting to untangle the matts and twigs in it. “I’m sorry if this is a bit too intimate for you,” you whispered to the unconscious man. “But I have nothing better to do while we wait for the village’s watchmen to come and find us.”

His black tresses gave way to your fingers easily, and the action reminded you of how your mother used to comb her fingers through your own hair. You smiled softly and began to sing the same tune that she had taught you. The birds chirped and everything was peaceful for a moment, but as the sun went down the horizon you grew concerned about the dangers the forest had to offer at night. “You have such a lovely voice.”

You jolted in surprise and looked down at the man you’d just spent hours bringing from the brink of death. He shouldn’t be conscious yet, let alone smiling up at you so carefree. “You,” you began, hesitant. “How are you-“

“I’m a fast healer,” he cut you off, and even began to sit up. You panicked.

“No! Don’t sit up!”

“Why? I’m fine,” he said easily. He pulled off some of the bandages you had placed on his chest, the bandages were made from torn pieces of your dress. The man glanced down curiously at the goo that coated the cloth and brought it to his nose. “Mm, echinacea, excellent idea.”

You were completely dumbfounded. The cuts along his chest now just mere bruises and closed scars. “How is that possible?” He let out a laugh, lighthearted. He turned back to face you, his dark eyes full of life and mirth. Heat began to creep up from your neck to your ears. He was so handsome, even covered in dirt, golden sap, and half-assed bandages. His smile was arm and one of his big hands reached out and caressed your cheek gently. “What are you?”

“I’m Hashirama,” he responded softly. “And you?”

Before you could tell him your name, it was shouted. You turned to look in the direction of the voices, Hashirama’s hand still connected with your cheek. The watchmen, you thought. As you opened your mouth to respond to your fellow villagers, that warm hand moved to cover your mouth; you looked back at him, fright contorting your face. Using his other hand he placed a single finger to his lips, signaling for you to remain silent. “Wait until I leave, then you may go.”

Was he a rogue of some sort? You nodded your head; his smile was a bit more strained. “Don’t tell them you saw me.”

He removed his palm from your lips and stood to his full height, he offered a hand to help you up as well. Hashirama was tall and broad, much larger than you. As you stood you watched him warily and he gave a small wave. “Goodbye for now,” he said before jumping up, high up, and away. You were left stunned and confused.

A few weeks later found you back in the forest, humming along as you collected your weekly supply of herbs. Since that incident, you hadn’t seen hide nor tail of Hashirama. It was a shame really, despite his oddities and unexplained origins you found yourself rather attracted to his toned muscles and bright smile. Unconsciously, you smiled just thinking about him.

You had kept some of the cut ruts and golden sap for analyses but hadn’t found anything that would explain what you saw. The only thing you had discovered was that the golden sap had reactions that were identical to blood. It congealed over time but stayed liquid with the assistance of specific herbs. The similarities in consistency had been one of the first things you noticed. It both scared and intrigued you. You wondered what type of plants bled? Were there other trees that had the same golden sap? Maybe I should go back and- “Oh! It’s you again!”

“Ah!” You jumped, Hashirama’s deep voice startling you. He was squatting down in front of you, blinking at your startled face like he wasn’t the reason for it. “Hashirama,” you started softly. Had you been so focused on your thoughts that you hadn’t noticed him?

“You remembered my name,” he said excitedly.

“Of course I did. How many strange men do you think I meet in the woods?”

He placed a hand to his chin and acted like he was giving it some thought. “Maybe two?”

“No, only you,” you responded dryly.

“Ah,” he responded, a sultry smirk molding his full lips. His voice seemed a touch deeper as he said, “I’m honored.”

Your face felt hot, and you looked away from him and back to the plants in front of you. His looks are dangerous, you thought. “Who are you, really?”

“I told you, I’m Hashirama.”

“You’re not going to tell me anymore, are you?” You paused, giving him time to respond. When he didn’t you sighed and looked back at him warily. “Will you at least tell me if you’re some kind of criminal?”

“And if I am? Will you turn me in?” A tease.

“Yes,” you said back with a huff. “I could use the money.”

“Oh,” he muttered, his entire continence crumbling. His head was down between his knees, which had been brought up to his chest, even the air around him seemed to exude sadness. You stared at him for a few seconds before laughter began to bubble through you. He looks like a pouting kid! He sniffled and sunk further into his depressed position. “And now you’re laughing at me.”

“Sorry, sorry!” You giggled uncontrollably, one of your hands at your mouth while the other you placed on his tanned hand. “I won’t turn you in, don’t worry.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.” With that he sprung back up, bright smile back; that only made you laugh harder.

Every week after that you’d continue your trips to the forest, and every time he’d find you. It became a routine, your time with him full of laughter and learning. Hashirama knew so much about plants and medicine, he told you things that you had never heard of, let alone thought to try. He told you what worked best for illness, what worked best for injury, herbs to strengthen constitution, and so much more. He was an untapped wealth of knowledge and you hung on his every word.

He seemed just as excited to see you as you did him every time the two of you met. He’d ask you mundane questions, like how you grew up and the things you liked. Hashirama seemed rather impressed when you told him about your position as the village clinician. He understood the weight your position as a woman carried, and it was almost inevitable that you’d develop feelings for him. And the more time you spent with him the deeper your feelings went.

You had invited Hashirama to stay in the village with you, many times, but he refused. It hurt a bit, though your head knew the difference your heart treated it like he was rejecting you. You had no idea how he felt about you, other than he liked to talk with you. He never gave any inclination about reciprocating your feelings and the longer you spent with him the more that stung. Should I give up? You thought. He’s just some wanted criminal anyway, right? I should just move on and marry someone from the village. But then you’d see him, his large smile causing crinkles under his eyes, his warm hands squeezing yours tightly as he led you excitedly to some new tree, and all your resolve to forget about him would crumble.

“Is something wrong?”

“No,” you responded, not quite meeting his dark eyes. He was swimming in the lake. The man was trying to kill you, you were sure. His torso bare, the water making his momohiki cling to his lower body, his dark hair stuck to his face, neck, and back. Definitely trying to kill me. You gulped and began to look at some of the lake’s smooth stones. “I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Hm,” he tilted his head to the side, leaning on a rock close to the edge of the water. “If you’re willing to talk, I’ll listen.”

If only I could. Another sigh escaped you before you formed an idea. Maybe? “Well, lately I’ve had a few men try to court me.”

“Oh?”

“They’re not ideal, but I am passed marriageable age. I’m wondering if I should accept them or not.” Your heart pounded in your chest. Would he take the bait? You chanced a glance in his direction, but he was still smiling, it looked a bit smaller, a bit tighter, but other than that there was no difference. Your heart sunk. Right, you thought. How could I be so stupid.

Four weeks after that meeting, and things had begun to change in the village. There was a large increase in sick villagers visiting your clinic. You were so busy you hadn’t had the chance to see Hashirama since then. Many were beginning to show signs of malnutrition, especially the children. “Wasn’t our harvest good? What’s changed?”

“We haven’t been able to hunt in weeks, and our crops have all but died,” the village leader responded. You looked at him, puzzled.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s the god of the forests,” another elder suggested. “He’s angry with us, we must placate him immediately.”

“Shall we give him more offerings?” Another asked.

You clenched your fists. “Enough with the gods, we need to do something about this quickly.”

“We will give our food reserves to the children first,” the leader decided. “And if this continues the women will come next. If we continue to lack in supplies, I will contact other villages for help.”

But the food shortage continued, and you hardly had enough supplies to feed yourself, let alone your patients. You began to chew on appetite suppressing plants to push past the hunger. “Make way! We have wounded!”

You ran out of your clinic, toward the commotion. Four of the village’s best hunters lay incapacitated, carried toward you by their injured companions. “What happened?”

“It’s the forest,” one called, a look of terror on his face. “It attacked us as we tried to get in!”

The other villagers began to whisper, “If we can’t hunt then we’re doomed!”, “What have we done to offend the gods so?”, “What do we do now?”.

Shit, you thought, leaf hanging from your lips. What can we do?

Everything was starting to fall apart. You had gone to the forest entrance to see what the hunters were talking about, and just like they said the trees pushed their branches together to force you from getting in. You tried another not so public entrance and met the same resistance. One of the trees had even cut your shoulder. “Shit,” you muttered under your breath. You were low on supplies, low on food, and Hashirama was still in the forest as far as you knew. You couldn’t imagine he’d be better off. “Hashirama,” you called out into the trees. “Please be okay.”

When the situation seemed dire, the village leader ordered a meeting. With all in attendance, he claimed to have a solution to all the suffering. “We will offer our gracious deity a sacrifice,” he announced. “A sacrifice of flesh and blood. One of our own.”

Outrage began to spill from the villagers’ lips. How can we stoop so low? “Silence,” called an elder. “At dusk we will give our offering. This will bring everything back to how it should be.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Please don’t choose my daughter, please not my daughter!”

“Can’t we just leave for another village?”

“You’re asking for too much!”

But the ones in charge weren’t listening to any of the back talk. The village leader’s eyes met yours, and a chill went down your spine. His gaze lingered a bit too long for your liking before he looked away. “Everyone go home and stay there, we will get the sacrifice when its time. While you wait, pray. That is all that can be done now.”

As soon as you got back to your home you began to pace. You had a sinking feeling that you were the one that was about to be sacrificed. But that would be ridiculous, you were the village’s only healer. Getting rid of you would bring far more harm than good. But your mind kept going back to that stare, to the way the village leader’s eyes held yours is if he was sorry, like you were some creature to be pitied. A swift knock at your door all but confirmed your suspicions, and when you opened the door, you felt like throwing up.

“We’re sorry dear,” said the leader’s wife. The two women beside her kept their heads down as if ashamed. “But we’ve come to prepare you for the sacrifice.”

“Shit,” came your breathless reply.

All three were the wives of the heads of the village, all three kind souls who had wanted nothing but the best for you growing up. Your heart pounded as they took their time in grooming you. They bathed you in warmed water, poured expensive oils onto your skin, combed your hair, and decorated it with gold decorations made to look like flowers, and painted your lips with red dyes. The clothing they dressed you in could hardly be called clothing. The material was expensive and white, but sheer. The top stopped just below your breasts and the bottoms were a skirt that showed much more than it covered. “No wrappings?” You asked, hoping against hope for some coverage. They shook their heads.

“Before we go dear, please, eat this.”

“But this is-“ Ginseng, and in this context it was hard not remember its aphrodisiacal qualities. The eldest woman just placed her hand on your shoulder, her face only displayed pity. You ate the ginseng without another word. It tasted different from normal ginseng, it could’ve been your hunger talking, but it tasted much, much, sweeter; like the sweetness would melt you from the inside. A band of gold was placed around your waist and sandals of a similar color were placed on your feet with care.

“Alright,” the eldest said, a dour look on her face. “That’s everything,” she paused and pressed her lips together. She approached you, leaned on her tip toes, and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. You felt like you wanted to cry. “Please, come back safely.”

The bitterness of betrayal settled on your tongue. Come back? You thought, the idea of it giving you mixed feelings. After being abandoned like this would I even want to come back?

Like a funeral procession, the village leader’s and their wives, were all silent with grave faces as they lead you to the main entrance to the forest. You looked up at the two statues, their faces eroded by time, and suddenly they felt a lot more foreboding. You didn’t believe in the gods, but you do know that something strange was going on in those woods. Would it even let you in this time?

As the trees seemed to part their branches to allow your entry, you began to form a plan. I’ll find Hashirama and we’ll run away, you nodded to yourself. Find Hashirama, run away, easy as that. It’ll be fine. You took a sharp breath in as you saw the state of the woods. It had been once been so bright, with animals and insects making constant noise, but at that moment all you heard was the wind rustling leaves. The flora looked so wilted, like they were on the brink of death. “Please, accept our humble offering,” the leader said. They all bowed, and you felt like you were on a precipice.

No matter what you did, your next step would change everything. If you ran back into the village, even if the villagers didn’t become upset with you, they were still doomed without food and medicine; if you stepped into the forest that you used to make you feel at ease, there was no telling what would happen. You squeezed your eyes shut; your heart felt like it was being split in two. The best choice is probably to just run away. But there he was again, his overly cheerful smile flashing through your mind, and a sigh left your lips as you made up your mind. “Always coming to your rescue,” you muttered, beginning to walk forward.

The path was different, the sky was dark, the trees had blocked the entrance behind you. Everything about this made your skin crawl. You had no idea what part of the forest you had been led to, but you could see the shadow of a manmade structure. As you approached, rain began to fall. It drizzled at first, gave you a minute to look at the odd building before you had to run inside due to a downpour.

It looked to be a forgotten temple of sorts. A large building covered in vines and weeds that were decaying with the rest of the woods. The walls and columns which you believed to once be pristine and white were dyed yellow with wear and hunks of stone missing. The inside was largely the same, though there were two large skylights which you were sure were beautiful with moonlight, but they also allowed the downpour to follow you inside. Between the two skylights in the center of the room was a raised table, a large decorative throne a ways behind it and against the backwall. You wrapped your arms around yourself as you walked toward the throne what little clothing you were wearing was soaked through and clung to your skin, it embarrassed you how visible your breasts were.

“Well, this is just great,” you grumbled, pulling the golden decorations from your wet hair. You placed them on a raised table at the rooms center. The rain continued to pour, and you stared down at puddles on the floor you’d have to walk through. “Whoever designed this place really wasn’t thinking.”

There were no visible decorations, only visible distress. How long has this been here? You wondered if it was as old as the village itself. The water had ruined the lovely sandals you wore so you took them off and placed them beside the throne, your bare feet made audible smacks as they walked through the water. After brushing off some dust and vines, not very well, you sat on the throne.

“You’re here!”

You perked up at that voice, its’ baritone echoing even over the sounds of the downpour. “Hashirama,” you called back and stood. “Thank the gods you’re alive.”

“Of course I am,” he responded as he made his approach. The man looked the same as he always did, which was both relieving and distressing. It had been over a month of starvation, illness, and injury for your village, and yet he didn’t show any visible signs of suffering the same ailments. “I am suffering though.”

“Really?” You met him halfway and placed your hands on his face, clinician mindset taking over. His smile softened as he closed his eyes and nodded. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you,” his tone was teasing. “How could I not suffer?”

“Don’t joke around like that.”

“But I’m serious.” Hashirama wrapped his warm hands around your still wet forearms. You tilted your head to the side. How had you not noticed he was dry? “Not being able to see you was upsetting.”

You had forgotten your state of dress until you watched his eyes look you up and down, his pupils dilated in obvious arousal, and you had to look away. In attempts to cover yourself, you tried to pull your hands away from his face but his grip on your arms was too strong. “Please,” you pleaded, keeping your gaze at his chest to avoid watching those dark eyes devour you. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Why?” Hashirama pulled you closer, he brought your left wrist up to his lips and began to kiss a slow trail down your arm. “You look mouthwatering.”

Weakly you tried to pull away, but it was more of an instinct than anything. His attentions were what you had craved for almost as long as you knew him. Your breath hiccupped as he nibbled at your pulse, his other arm reached behind you to circle the gold band on your waist. “How could I resist such a beautiful offering?”

“Offering?” Your eyelashes fluttered, partially distracted by the tan hand that had began to creep toward your rear. “What do you mean?”

He pressed you further to him, his body almost flush against yours. Your torso was leaned back, reluctant to let your sensitive breasts rub against his armored chest. “Your village offered you to me in order to regain access to the forest.”

You furrowed your brow. “They said that I was a sacrifice for their imaginary forest god.”

Hashirama lifted his lips from your skin to look back at you with a pout. “I’m not imaginary.”

A beat, then two, then three, before your brain finally began working again. Your voice was hesitant, a bit strained as you asked, “What?”

He blinked at you a few times before his eyes widened in surprise, “You didn’t know? But I told you when we first met.”

“No, you didn’t,” you retorted, your nerves building, not quite sure how to handle the new information.

“I told you my name.”

“Yeah, but that was it. You said Hashirama, not Hashirama god of the forests!”

“The village you come from has been loyal to me for centuries.” The black-haired man seemed to refocus on your body, he placed the arm he had been showing affection on over his shoulders and moved both hands to grab your ass. You yelped and wrapped your legs around his hips, he held you up with ease. “A god’s name is an invaluable part of the teachings. I am the only one allowed to be called Hashirama.”

Closing your eyes, you thought back to when you were younger and tried to remember ever hearing that name, but your mind quickly went blank as he leaned his head forward and began to place sloppy kisses against your neck. The movement caused your skirt to raise up, bearing your sex against his clothed erection. A gasp tore through you. “Ah, you’re driving me mad.”

Your brain tried to rationalize it, alright even if he has the title it doesn’t mean he’s actually a god. Hashirama licked a stripe along the column of your neck, and you shivered, your hands gripped at his shoulders before moving to wrap around his neck and comb through his hair. “I still don’t believe in the gods,” you muttered breathlessly, his hands tightened their grip on the flesh of your ass.

He straightened his neck and smirked at you. His dark eyes filled with lust and confidence. A strange texture brushed against your legs before gripping your ankles with immense strength. You clung to Hashirama’s neck like your life depended on it, “W-What is that?”

“Relax,” he shushed you. The things began to pull your legs apart, removing them from his hips. Similar things wrapped around your wrists, but these you could see. They looked almost like vines, but with a more wooden texture, like the roots that he had been wrapped in the day you met. As the roots began to remove your arms from his neck you looked at him in a panic, he shushed you gently. The roots at your ankles rose you as the ones on your wrists suspended you, your arms above your head. He took your chin in his hand gently and whispered, “They’re apart of me, there’s no need to worry.”

His plush lips pressed against yours and you groaned. His tongue immediately sought entrance and you obliged. You moaned as he slid it against yours, he allowed you to take the lead after that. With ease he allowed your tongue to explore his mouth, he tasted like herbs, fresh and crisp with a hint of bitterness. Hashirama’s hands moved along your body, ghost like touches all along your frame. The tips of his index fingers pressed against your clothed nipples before he rubbed them in circular motions.

A grunt left your mouth and he swallowed it. Your nipples pebbled under his touch, and he began to palm at the full weight of your breasts as he pulled away. “Your breasts are so perfect,” he groaned. The roots on your ankles began to spread your legs further apart and he brought his thigh up to place against your heated core. “So pretty, spread and at my mercy. I’ve wanted to have you like this since I first laid eyes on you.”

The roots around your raised wrists pushed you down and onto his thick thigh. You ground down on it unconsciously, the promise of stimulation too great to resist. “Are you getting impatient, dear? Sorry, I’ll take better care of you.”

Hashirama ripped the wet cloth from your breasts, the fabric tattered as it fell open and hung by its sleeves. That had startled you. He began sucking and licking at your neck again, making sure to nibble at the places that made your breath hitch. His right hand continued to tease your breast. That left hand, though, began to trail downward. It fiddled with the golden band, “I like it, like a handle,” he muttered against your skin. Handle?! His left hand finally reached your thigh and began to creep inward toward your wet sex. The body heat from his hand brought anticipation with it. He gently touched your outer labia, his thigh moving away for a moment, you let out a soft moan.

His deft fingers began to spread one side of your outer lips and then the roots pulled you back down to his thigh. You squeaked. The friction was more intense, the cloth rubbing against your clit almost painfully. “Ha-Hashirama,” you panted. The dark-haired man kissed his way to your neglected breast and flicked the hardened nipple with his tongue. Another flick, again, only after you whined did he wrap his lips around the abused fresh and you almost sighed in relief.

Another root seemed to make its way up your leg and slipped between your slick folds and the forest god’s thigh. “Ah! Too much,” you cried, the feeling of the root alien to you. It was very textured, groves and abnormal lumps, a tapered tip, and you could feel every bit of it. It slid against you, your fluids more than enough to give it easy passage. The tip pressed against your already throbbing bud with each thrust forward, and his thigh only pushed it further against you.

You wished you could grab a hold of him, dig your nails into his tanned flesh as he made you cum in such an abnormal way. The knot in your stomach tightened, his mouth switched breasts, and his right hand gripped your hip and began to make you rock against the assault on your sex. “That’s it, pretty thing, let go. Soak my thigh,” he said after he pulled away from your skin, his voice deep and a bit hoarse. One more hit from that tapered root tip and you were coming undone, groaning as you did so.

“That’s a good girl,” he praised, the roots began to lower you, his hands coming up to take you from them gently. “Do you think you can go over to that table there? I’ll be right behind you.”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded, your legs felt like jelly. He chuckled and kissed your forehead before giving you a push in that direction. You stumbled but righted yourself and slowly made your way. The table was wet from the rain that had seemed to stop, it was cold, but you wanted to sit down. The table was slippery, your hair decorations still rested on the edge, the moist chill of the stone felt like a balm against your recovering sex. But you weren’t ready to be done and as you watched Hashirama’s naked form approach you, you clenched your thighs.

He was gorgeous, you had always thought so. The warm color of his, the toned muscles along his arms and pecks, even his abs were well defined. Your eyes drank in the sharp v of his hips as it led into a patch of curly black and a rather generous erection. His cock was long and thick with a delicious curve. Hashirama seemed rather proud of your attentions. His approach was slow with and with intention, when he reached you, he placed his arms on either side of you before his lips fell to yours once again.

This kiss was different, slower, but his twitching cock gave away his excitement. It was strange if you thought about it, you were being extremely intimate with a god, who’s abilities you doubted until he literally all but fucked you with them, and who you hadn’t believed in until the tryst began. But there was no time to think with his tongue back in your mouth and moving toward your throat. Your arousal drove you as you began to run your hands through his hair, down his back- he shivered at your light scratches. His hands moved, one rubbing the gold band again and the other boldly touching at your soaked folds. His pecks had the perfect amount of firmness, you liked squeezing them, and his abs quivered under your touch.

He broke the kiss again, his hand retreating from the apex of your thighs, you would have been embarrassed by the sticky trail that followed his fingers if Hashirama hadn’t looked so pleased. “Can I taste you?” You thought he meant his fingers, so you nodded, but when he knelt and spread your knees you were glad that hadn’t been what he meant.

The dark-haired man licked one long stripe along your lower lips before pushing your legs further apart to lap at your entrance. It felt like heaven. His tongue moved in opposite manners, started bottom to top then on the next lap it was top to bottom. He kissed your clit before sucking on it, your hips bucked automatically. His fingers came back and began to rub that bundle of nerves after his lips left it in favor of tonguing at your entrance. Your fingers went to his head, gripping his long tresses with urgency as you began to wholeheartedly ride his face. Hashirama groaned as you did, his tongue wriggling against your walls and driving you to the edge of sanity.

“Ha-Hashi,” you finish, your voice raising in pitch as your orgasm approached yet again. His fingers began to rub your clit faster, going back and forth as opposed to the circular motions they originally were. The noises that were coming from his mouth were debauched. He was groaning and moaning, almost as much as you were, his vigor like that of a man starved. Your fingers tightened in his hair, you would have worried that you were pulling too hard had your peak not hit you. “Mmm,” you whined, your eyes tearing up. Your hips kept moving, as did his tongue and fingers, and you rode out your orgasm until it hurt.

“Stop,” you begged softly. “Please, please, no more.”

He pulled away slowly, like he would go in for more at any moment. His chest heaved and his chin was covered in your slick. “You taste divine,” he told you, he looked as if he was the one who had reached his peak. “I don’t think I could ever tire of your taste.” The man stood back to his full height and began to position himself between your thighs. “Like the sweetest honey, haha, I’ll probably crave it again very soon. But unfortunately, I don’t think I can wait any longer.” You felt his tip begin to stretch your opening and you squeezed your eyes shut, but he didn’t move any further. “Tell me that you’re mine.”

“I am,” you nodded, your eyes opened once again. “I am yours.”

“That you’ll stay with me here, in the forest.”

“Stay in the forest?” You struggled to not give in, to not go along with everything just to feel more of him.

“That’s right, with me, forever,” Hashirama confirmed, his own breathing labored and arms shaking with restraint. “Say it.”

As you opened your mouth to respond he slid just a bit more inside and you groaned. “Yes,” you grunted, desperate in your need for more. More of him, inside you, enveloping you, more. “Yes, I’ll stay.”

He groaned and pushed in slowly. “Good,” he grunted. It felt like you were being split open, your mouth open in a silent gasp. He continued to push in, slow and steady, until he bottomed out and you could feel him in the deepest parts of you. His glans touched your cervix and your toes curled.

It was torturous, he hadn’t moved. You wanted him hard and fast, like he was going to break you in half, but when he pulled his hips back it was slow and methodical, like he wanted you to feel every inch drag against your walls, and oh did you. His hips snapped into yours and suddenly you were stuffed full again. You buried your face in his neck. “You feel so good, the way you rub and squeeze me, it makes me want nothing more than to pump you full of cum.”

With every snap inside, your sensitive breasts jostled against his chest and with every slow drag out you bit into his shoulder. “What’s wrong pretty?” You couldn’t tell if he was teasing or if he meant it. “If you need something you have to ask for it.”

He felt so good, but the slow methodical drag almost hurt. The stimulation was intense, like an itch that needed to be scratched. But it was still so good, you felt so full when he thrust inside and so empty as he took himself away. You felt a keening whine beginning in the back of your throat. You needed him faster.

“Please,” your fingernails began to dig into his back.

“Please what?” Another excruciatingly slow drag out.

“Hashirama, faster please,” you exclaimed. “Harder, please, fuck me until I can’t walk straight just- more please!”

He placed one hand on the back of your head and the other on your waist. “There’s a good girl, so pretty when you beg.” His hips began a brutal pace, his chest rumbled with his groans, his eyes closed as he also began to feel the pleasurable friction of his speed. “Such a good girl,” he said in a staccato, timing it with his thrusts. “Do you think anyone else could take my cock as well as you? You’re so special, so perfect.”

His words made your insides tingle, a pleasant sensation that began to build with your peak. You couldn’t help but gasp every time he hit your cervix. The sound of his aching balls smacking against your ass echoed against the stone walls, the mix of your combined sounds furthering your ecstasy. He moved your face to his and kissed you once again, your third climax of the evening crashing through you.

Your walls squeezed around him, and he groaned into your mouth as you began to milk him. He came as well, and the warmth of his seed made you gasp. Hashirama continued to pump himself into you until you began to feel overstimulated, until all spurts of his hot sperm had finished. He pulled out, his semen immediately began to trickle out of you, but instead of having a softened member, as was typical, he was still fully erect. You blinked up at him in surprise.

A chuckle left him, and he backed away for a moment, one of his hands reached between your legs to collect your combined fluids before he began to rub them along your skin. He rubbed it onto your breasts, your stomach, along the gold band, and the fat of your thigh. “Get on all fours on the table, pretty.” You scrambled to obey.

The hardness of the stone put pressure on your knees, but that pain flew to the back of your mind as you felt his hand move up your back to between your shoulder blades and his own pressure begin to push you down. With your face down and your ass in the air you shivered. Hashirama rubbed the flesh of your right cheek before giving it a light smack, not hard enough to hurt but enough to make your body move. “This is my favorite view. Your ass up, your hole on display and dripping with my cum. Nothing makes me harder.”

He entered you again, his pace fast and merciless. You almost missed the slow and tortuous one he had begun with. The new angle was almost too much, he hit your gspot and a sharp whine left you whenever he did. You thought your eyes might cross from the pleasure. “Touch yourself,” he panted. “Rub your clit for me.”

Eager to obey, you shakily reached a hand down and began to rub your abused clit. Tears stung your eyes; it was almost too much. It hurt but it also felt so good. “You look so pretty wrapped around my cock. I can’t imagine anyone would fit you better. No one could make you feel as good. Only me!”

“Ha,” you swallowed, your saliva thick in your throat. You were already at your peak again. It would have to be the last one, the pleasure was already more than you could handle. “Hashirama, I can’t, I,” you whined, loudly. It was too much, it felt too different. Something above the average orgasm was coming. “I can’t.”

“You can,” he told you, his own voice strained as he felt your walls begin to twitch around him. “Go on, cum on my cock again.”

You rubbed your clit a little harder and after two more thrusts of his godly member and you came for the fourth time. It felt like rapture. A loud gasp tore through you, and you could feel the gush of fluid leave you. He kept going, you kept coming. It seemed like there would be no end to the high and it made you want to sob. Too much of a good thing. “Such a good girl, you sprayed all over me,” he whispered and licked a stripe down your back, his own hips began to stutter. “Just a bit more.”

One more thrust, then two, then three, and he was pulling out. You felt the warmth of his cum hit your back and he trailed it down to your ass. When he was finished, you were both panting, his hand already rubbing his spend along your skin. In a more labored version of his disheartened voice he announced, “Ahh, I want to cover you in more cum.”

You began to shake your head, throat dry and sore from overusing your voice. There was no way you could take another round, your thighs were still trembling, blood still thrumming. “Don’t shake your head,” he tsked. His hair began to tickle your sides and you felt him press his over warm cheek against your hip. Hashirama placed a gentle kiss on your pelvic bone and put an open palm against your lower belly. “You can relax for now, after all, we have plenty of time for me to continue marking you,” there was his cheery lilt.

You heard it before you saw it, the plants beginning to move and cover the exists, even going so far as to block out any human sized hole in the skylights that could be used to crawl out of. A nervous shiver wracked your spine and goosebumps began to crawl along your skin as he licked a trail up your side from your raised hip. “After all, you said you’d be here with me forever.”

tagged list: @therantingfangirl @justmyownreality

Madara||Tobirama

Season 2

#naruto smut #꩜ naruto.#꩜ nsfw.#꩜ reblogs.#꩜ ily.

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jesi555 · 18 days

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𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙚𝙛𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙩 — olympic team / fem reader

[ atsumu, sakusa, suna, kageyama, gao, bokuto, hinata, iwaizumi, oikawa ]

the stress of the first match seems to be taking a toll on the team’s spirit, and you refuse to sit and watch them fail when you know you can be of help. but can you really handle all of them?

(or, where you end up having a gang bang with 8 professional volleyball players, and 1 athletic trainer)

⥅ word c. 7,928

⥅ warnings. sub reader, gang bang, foursomes, voyeurism?, fellatio, cum play, vaginal penetration, anal, unprotected sex, creampie, facial, size + stomach bulging kink, praise kink, mild degradation, double penetration, pussy job (for like, one second), double vaginal penetration, fingering, squirting, overstimulation, someone passes out, aftercare

⥅author n. brought to u thanks to this tweet + @kmorgzz who suggested adding iwaoi to the mix

special mention to my wife and love of my life, runa. @tsumue u had me laughing at 4am as i read ur comments in the google doc. i don’t know what i’d do without u, tysm for beta and putting up with me for the past week ♡

ps. im v sorry if ur fave didn’t make the cut (╥_╥) i added the ones im more familiar with, in terms of writing

Keep reading

#haikyuu smut #꩜ haikyuu.#꩜ nsfw.#꩜ reblogs.#꩜ ily.

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jesi555 · 26 days

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"this character wouldn't-" i had sex with him in my mind palace. come back with a warrant.

#꩜ reblogs.#꩜ jesiya.

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jesi555 · 2 months

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sensational 😩

“She’s so pretty”

- ☆ - Luffy x Reader

- ☆ - !WARNING OF EXPLICIT CONTENT- 18+!

- ☆ - 10.9 k

- ☆ - tags : ♧ Fem!Reader ♧reader-insert ♧ curvy!reader ♧ reader is a new strawhat pirate ♧ some minor fat-phobia from Sanji but it's not hate, just for plot- he's my bbygirl i promisee <333 ♧ size difference ♧ strength kink ♧ oral.f.recieving + fingering ♧ minor cum play if you squint ♧ lots of praises ♧ Luffy being a tease ♧ nothing major, just cute :3 ♧ - ☆ - a/n : ♧ this was commissioned by a lovely anon, I hope you like it ♧ One Piece is my newest hyperfixation, and Luffy is my fave strawhat, this was my first time writing him and it was so much fun :3 he's just so cute hehe ♧ never had a beta, we die like fools ♧

“She’s so pretty”.

You have heard your Captain say the same thing a few times now— every time he does, Zoro usually responds with a tired sigh and grumble, “Why don’t you just tell her, idiot?” He’d lean against the mast, his eyes closed and fully aware that Luffy is referring to you every time he interrupts his peace with his goofy sighs, talking animatedly and smiling wide in the only way he knows how.

Boisterous and shameless.

It’s nothing new; you are used to Luffy’s colourfully confident outbursts about you, despite the way they used to make you blush. Often hearing it to your face and behind your back, or rather when he assumes you are not within earshot.

Not that it matters to him. Luffy has never once said something he did not mean.

So, when he shouts, when he hollers in the morning over your new outfit and calls you pretty in the same breath, you laugh bashfully, and your smile makes his beam.

And today is no different.

Luffy’s voice tends to carry in the air whenever he speaks, filling the space with his spirit. All the while, you sit on the swing, the sides only slightly digging into your curvy hips— trying not to overhear the conversation from across the grassy deck with your nose buried in a book. Though, your fidgeting gives away how difficult it is to ignore them. The day is warm and bright enough without Luffy’s endearing praises triggering palpitations in your chest.

“Why are you bothering me?” Zoro booms, exasperated by another unprompted comment about you, "Go tell her!”

“I already told her this morning!” Luffy shouts with a grin, “I’m telling you!”

“And why the fuck are you telling me?! I don’t care!”

His face falls, “You don’t think she’s pretty?”

“I never said that!” Zoro exhales shakily, pinching the bridge of his nose as if gathering every ounce of patience he can muster. “Go bother someone else with your crush”, he grumbles, “I’m tryin’ to sleep”.

“Well, I told Sanji over breakfast”, Luffy states, in an odd tone you don’t quite catch from your position, “and then he called me stupid for saying it”.

“What did you say?” He asks cautiously.

“That she looked really pretty in her skirt this morning”, Luffy says in a flat tone, his head cocked to the side the way it does when he is trying to figure something out a little too slowly. “Sanji likes girls in skirts, but he said girls like her don’t suit it”, his brows knit, “I don’t get it”.

Zoro and you both freeze. A tightness compresses in your chest, drying your throat as you fidget in the seat.

Though you have only been on board for six weeks, Sanji’s dissatisfaction was not news to you or anyone who would catch his off-handed comments whenever you dared to share a meal with them. Including when he would blatantly exclude you from the special treats he cooked for Robin and Nami, muttering how you did not need any more sugar in your diet. It was uncomfortable for anyone who heard it except the sweet, clueless Captain who could never see tension past his plate.

You weren’t the type to start a fight— but you could defend yourself well enough, especially against men like Sanji, who exuded hostility in your direction whenever you coincidentally walked past. Like your very existence was a disgrace. Your curves, ass, chub and thighs a blight to the man who claimed to love all women.

In those moments you would laugh, hissing a snide remark which eases the tension and often has the others laugh at him instead of sitting with the awkwardness he creates for you. Luffy’s rambunctious laughter always turns the tide, shifting the attention away from you, even stealing treats Sanji withholds and sharing them with you as a childish act of rebellion which means more to you than he realises.

Life on the Sunny is exciting, and if it means tolerating Sanji’s attitude, then you will bear it. And if it includes hearing Luffy shout your name, then you can go on pretending his smile glows just for you when he says it. The sort of warmth that bathes your skin like the first beams of sunlight on a summer’s morning. Radiant.

There is not one present now. He stays seated in contemplation. An unnatural frown twists the shape of his smile.

You sigh, fiddling with the skirt they spoke of now riding up your pillowy thighs, a lovely pink one you made yourself the other day. You were quite proud of it, and hearing Luffy’s cheery comment this morning warmed your cheeks— unaware of disapproving glares when Luffy’s loud compliment drowned out any animosity.

Now, a twinge of discomfort and anger flushes your face while Zoro struggles to find the words without making the scene any more uncomfortable.

“That pervy cook is stupid”, he hisses in the end. “If you think she’s pretty, then that’s it. That’s the only thing that matters”, Zoro says firmly, giving his friend a pointed look before scoffing lightly. “Anyway, forget that idiot. He has no dignity around girls anyway”.

Luffy hums thoughtfully, and for once, he’s quiet. He tilts his head, listening to the wind howl around the ship and ruffle the sails.

The anticipation is palpable, the rock of the boat twists your stomach further. You can’t help but watch him even though it’s obvious and incredibly impolite.

It’s Luffy’s enthusiasm, laughter, and devotion to freedom on the sea that captured your heart. His sincerity has a way of uplifting everyone it touches, inspiring loyalty and friendship, like there’s a magnetic flair pulsing around him, luring people into his life. Luffy is earnest. He is honest and bold.

His opinion matters to you.

“I like her!” Luffy declares loudly, unaware you squeak in surprise at his shout. “She’s great!”

“And pretty?” Zoro teases lightly, eyeing your shy smile from across the deck.

Luffy snickers, wiping his nose bashfully with another one of his radiant grins, “Yea! I really don’t notice stuff like that. But when Usopp said she has a big butt, I saw it!”

“God!” Zoro shouts, blushing hard as he whips his head between you and his clueless Captain. “Why are you listening to Usopp?!”

“Cause he helped me notice!” Luffy screams back, throwing his arms in the air as if it were a revelation. “He said she’s probably soft all over, an’ I wanna know too! An’ I like the way her butt moves when she walks past, shishishi”.

Zoro groans, uncomfortable with the new direction of the conversation, knowing you were right across the deck listening in with a giggle you could not hide behind a book. “Okay, that’s enough”.

“An’ I wanna squeeze her thighs—”

“Jeez, stop it!”

“They’re so squishy!” He shouts, demonstrating by groping the air with greedy grabbing fingers that made you snort, “—like marshmallows, I wanna bite ‘em!”

“Please, stop”.

“She smells good too”, Luffy continues snickering, even when Zoro covers his ears and turns away from his friend, wishing for the torment to end. “I asked her what it is, an’ she said it’s this coco-summin’ butter. She won’t let me taste it— but it makes me so hungry! Oh! Is it lunchtime yet? I’m getting hungry again”.

“Then leave me alone, goddammit!” Zoro turns his back to him, now lying on the grassy deck with the sun beaming on his tanned skin, eyes clamped shut, vanishing the rest of the world— but not its irritating chatter. Luffy does not take the hint, choosing to plop right next to his best friend, legs crossed and the cutest pout on his lips.

“I’m just saying”, he goes on with the most dramatic sigh, “I’m glad she joined the crew! She’s fun and nice, and so-so cool! Oh! And she made a really nice pudding yesterday— ooo! I wonder if there’s more in the fridge?!”

“Can’t be”, Zoro mutters, utterly defeated, “you ate it all”.

“Oh, yeah”, his expression deflates.

“Why not ask her now?” Zoro exclaims audibly, “oh look, there she is!”

That does the trick. Luffy jumps up, turning away from the swordsman and slinging himself at the tree where you sat.

He lands ungracefully, stuck in its branches with twigs and leaves falling on you until he collapses at your feet.

Luffy doesn’t miss a beat, practically shouting in your face, “Can you make that yummy pudding again?!”

You gleam, dusting your lap off loose leaves. “Sure, Captain! I’ll just finish my book, okay?” His impatient huff pudges his cheeks. Your heart blooms, instantly conceding with a sigh, “How about you give me a hand, then?”

“YES!” He grabs you without a second thought, his hand large and warm clasped in yours, you try not to read too much into it as he drags you to the kitchen. “Sanji! Sanji! Where are the pudding things? I’m gonna make some!”

“THERE’S NO WAY YOU’RE MESSING UP MY KITCHEN!” Sanji bellows from the boy's room, running up to the kitchen to beat him to the fridge, “I WOULDN’T TRUST YOU TO POUR MILK!”

“PUDDING!”

“I SAID DON’T TOUCH!”

You shake your head, taking out the mixing bowls well away from the fridge they fight over, both screaming at the other the only way brothers do— with fists and insults thrown.

“I JUST WANT PUDDING!”

“GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY FRIDGE!”

Luffy latches on to the fridge door, taking the assault of harsh kicks to the back as the cook attempts to forcibly wring his stretchy body off the metal handle.

You ignore their chaos for a moment, mildly surprised no one else had come to investigate the noise, only when they rattle the massive fridge do you smack them both.

“Okay!” you holler, “That’s enough!”

“HE WON’T LET ME OPEN THE FRIDGE”

“HE’S NOT TOUCHING MY FRIDGE—”

They scream at you, pointing an accusatory finger at the other. You shush them calmly, forced to be the voice of reason when the blonde doesn’t even attempt to hide his feelings towards you with a deep scowl.

“Sanji don’t worry”, you try to say reassuringly, but his glare burns too hot to maintain civility. It pains you to feel such distrust, but you stand firm anyway. “I’m making the pudding, Luffy promises to not touch anything, right?”

“You said I could help”, he whines, sliding down the fridge door.

It is always so hard to say no to him, it’s like you melt under the shine of his eyes.

��“Of course, sorry!” you beam at him, your affections always obvious to everyone but the man it is directed to. You turn back to Sanji, “Luffy can stir the bowl, I promise to clean up afterwards, okay?”

He's silent for a little too long. Sanji’s rejection sits in his furrowed brows, his sneer curled behind his cigarette, but a presence shifts behind him, and he nods slowly. Demeanour cracking. “Sure, I’ll just be observing, then”.

“That’s okay”, you sigh, only slightly agitated to be micromanaged, “I’ll make plenty for everyone”.

“No way!” Luffy interjects, letting go of the fridge finally, “you promised it was just for me! I am not sharing!”

“I know, Captain. I’ll make a huge batch just for you, yeah?” you laugh, turning around to start prepping the dessert and feeling his stare curve down your back. His earlier words thrum with a blush you’re thankful neither of them can see. You just do your best to ignore the tension that swirls from behind, but Luffy doesn’t sit still for long.

“Lemme help!” he jumps, landing right beside you, squishing you into the counter with his hard body— unphased by the tight proximity as his grin widens, “let’s cook!”

Your laugh sounds strained compared to his, but it passes off just fine anyway, letting him do as he pleases.

Luffy engages in an animated conversation watching you prepare the dessert. His ‘help’ is a loose term that mostly includes snickering and sneaking the chocolate into his mouth every second your back is turned, then feigning innocence when you confront him with the missing ingredient.

You can only laugh, butterflies always present whenever he grins at you— while Sanji sits in mild agitation at the counter, but he is easy to ignore, given how Luffy’s surprisingly large hands never stay far from your waist.

Always grabbing and manhandling you. Affectionately squeezing your arms, and shoulders, leaning into you whenever he speaks— his gaze following your every move like they’re latched at your shadow.

He is relentless, restless, and mischievously clings onto your back whenever you turn away from him for too long. His strong arms lock around your body and squeezes you into his bare chest while laughing airily into your ear.

He’s an affectionate person, you know this— but to feel his body constantly pressed against yours is— it’s hot. It’s maddening.

You can’t focus— your hands shake when he grabs your waist to shift you out of his way, your cheeks burn whenever he rests his chin on your shoulder to peer at what you are doing, his hips dig into your ass you can feel every ridge of muscle rub against your back.

It drives you crazy, heated— humiliated to feel such attraction when he probably has no idea of the effect he has on you.

Or he does, but you refuse to let your mind wander to that possibility because it’s Luffy.

He’s silly and sweet and so handsome...it doesn’t matter. So what he thinks you’re pretty? You think you’re pretty too, so...yes. It doesn’t matter.

You try to wriggle your way out of his hold, push at his chest to keep some distance, but then comes that pout of his. The one that makes your legs weak, butterflies flutter, and you concede once again, letting him do as he pleases until the dessert is done and he sits on the stool with a big bowl in front of him. His attention fixated on the treat.

“Here you go! a big bowl of pudding, just for you!”

“Thank you!!” Luffy beams at you, “Thank you!! You’re amazing!”

“You’re welcome!” you offer Sanji a regular bowl, who politely takes it, never one to turn down food, something you genuinely appreciate about him before he mutters about whisking the cream slower for a smoother consistency. You take as friendly criticism, nodding calmly, “I’ll remember that for next time”.

“Don’t forget to clean up”, Sanji murmurs, idly playing with his spoon.

You nod, standing back up without an argument. It stung, but if it meant he would leave, you quickly begin to clean up. The sooner the better, you thought. But Sanji’s scrutiny glows at the back of your head, ruining the mood you enjoyed with Luffy moments before.

His orders about placements and proper care about utilities you took as courteously as you could muster— though it was hard to ignore the tone he used, steadily setting your nerves alight. Forced to listen to his irritated orders with every second his kitchen was in slight disarray.

“That’s not where it goes.”

“I got it.”

“Make sure you soak it first.”

“Oka—”

“That’s not how you do it.”

The clink of his spoon grates your ears. His problem was you, and you were losing patience the harder he cut your politeness with his demands.

He micromanages every little thing about where things belong and how he keeps it— twisting and churning frustration whenever you fall out of step— rudely cutting you off. Talking over you.

“I said—”

You huff, slamming the whisk down—

“Sanji”.

You jump as if the thunder in Luffy’s voice was directed at you, catching the tension that cracks between them when you turn.

Luffy shoots him a hard look, one that shakes the room with its force and rakes a shudder through you. One Sanji doesn’t question, only nodding in understanding and perhaps a little guilt that has him softening his expression towards you.

He murmurs an apology, talking lowly into his cigarette. “That was rude of me”, Sanji says. He meets your eyes, looking somewhat embarrassed for his behaviour.

You only nod, entirely too focused on the pressure squeezing in your chest, a weight you’ve never felt before making you hot the way Luffy’s did. It was palpable, electric. You try not to squirm, not to give away how sweltering his presence was— how it affected you. How Luffy’s side profile made you stare a little too hard at the cut of his tense jaw.

Thankfully, it doesn’t last long.

Sanji leaves calmly, saying something to his Captain about locking the door before it closes firmly behind him.

The tension dissipates, and Luffy’s easy smile returns just as quickly. The room brightens immediately with his mood now that the two of you are finally alone in the kitchen. Just the way you wanted.

You turn to him, and your breath finally returns to your lungs, frustrations melting. “What was that about?”

He waves it off dismissively, his laughter easing his features once again. “Forget him. Sanji’s super protective over the kitchen”.

“Maybe ‘cause you always create a mess”, you tease lightly, going back to clearing up the huge bowl he devoured.

“Food is too good to sit in the fridge!”

“Then how will you preserve it? Fridges are important”, you say matter of factly. This was easier. Talking to him. It brought back the lightness in your conversation.

He huffs, his voice trailing off when you walk over to the counter, “I’ll just eat it quickly”.

“What about the day after?” you look at him over your shoulder, missing how his gaze shifts quickly to your eyes, “you can’t buy new food every day. And when you’re out on sea all the time—”

“We can fish!”

You roll your eyes playfully, making quick work of the dishes while he sits drumming on the table, “you can’t guarantee that there will be”. He hums in response, sounding distracted, and the conversation dies for a few seconds before you turn to him with a cheeky wink. “Don’t tell Chopper, but there’s secret stash of cotton candy behind the sink cabinet if you want some”.

“Yes!!”

You giggle, clearing up the sink like you promised and bending over slightly to rummage for the treat. “Found it!” you wipe the counter before moving over to sit beside him, handing him the snack, “All yours, Captain!”. He practically inhales it after ripping open the bag, but not before giving you a piece you idly pick at, not all that interested in anything but the comfort of his company.

“y’know”, he begins to say, a sly smile on his pink, candy-tinted lips, “you’ve been really mean to me”.

You scoff, his smile too infectious to maintain your frown, “I’ve been mean to you? How? I made you dessert”.

Luffy snickers, his hand brushing against your thigh when he leans in, warm breath tickling your cheek, “cause of your skirts, they’re too short”.

“And how is that mean?”

“When your skirts move up your thighs, everyone else can see your panties”. He grins, “I wanna be the only one who can”.

Your cheeks burn, spluttering an awkward chortle that drowns beneath the sound of his laughter. “Oh, I’m sorry! Was that too forward?” He scratches the back of his head sheepishly, a boyish chuckle hiding the threat of his words, “I just can’t stand to see Usopp look at you”.

“U-usopp looks at me?”

“Mmhmm, so does Brook”, his smile slants down, not quite into a frown, but it doesn’t reach his eyes or hold the same warmth. Gratifying, almost. His body inches even closer to yours, his every word touching your lips like a faint kiss. “He asks the girls what colour panties they have on every day. But I wanna punch him when he asks you”.

“Why?” You flush, heat pooling between your thighs when his eyes linger a little too long. You swallow your nerves— about the only way you can speak, “Like you said, he asks every girl”.

“Cause I want to know too”, he confesses boldly, “—but I don’t want anyone else to. Makes sense?”

You nod, the implication too loud for you to ignore. The room stifles with the rising temperature he stimulates between you. This was a side to him you weren’t used to— flirtatious and forward. But his confidence was the same, his boldness ever-present. Just Luffy playing again, only a different sort of way.

When you swallow the lump in your throat, you find yourself slipping into a teasing smirk and bump his knee, “Then should I stop wearing skirts? Captain?”.

Luffy snaps out of his daze with a huff, “That’s stupid, then I won’t see your thighs”.

He makes you laugh, his earlier conversation coming to light. “Do you like my thighs?”

Luffy nods heartily, “they look squishy and soft”.

“I know”, you say bashfully, tugging on your skirt that squeezes against your plush flesh. “I heard you talking to Zoro earlier”.

“I meant it!” He shouts, though his attention lingers a little too long on your lap, sounding far away in his mind as he speaks. “I like it, like your outfits. Your thighs, ass”. He meets your eyes, a coy smile tilting the innocence of his question, “do you like me?”

The words fail you despite the obvious answer you want to shout.

Of course, you do. He’s all you think about, dare to fantasise, hope to kiss. Yet, your bodies touch, and all you can feel is the distance your insecurity creates between you— faltering your confidence, fumbling your words.

“I’m bigger than you, y’know”, you say flatly, “That doesn’t bother—”

“You’re not that tall”, he scoffs, cutting off your rejection with a frown and a titled head, a familiar expression. He leans back and starts comparing your heads with his hand, though it is an unfair assessment considering you were both seated. “You’re average for a girl. I’ve seen some really tall girls and—”

“No, no”, You take his hand from above your head, giving it a gentle squeeze to gain back his attention. His rough palm shooting sparks up your body. “I mean, my body is bigger than you”, you attempt to laugh, but all you manage is a slight grimace. It is as if his sincerity vanishes any shame of vulnerability. “My thigh is the same size as your head”.

He hums, “yea, I know”.

“Oh…”

“Big and squishy”, he hums again, smile shading into a sinful smirk that matches his hooded eyes a little too well. “Bet they’d feel good on me”.

“Feel good?” you squeak, embarrassed at his teasing giggle. There was an intensity you couldn’t shake as though it were pulling you to him, a gravity made all on his own. Drawing you closer.

“Yea”, he husks, “like you…on top of me”.

It shouldn’t, but his sly leer makes you cinch your thighs to relieve an ache you try to ignore.

But you can’t, not with this— not with his attention and his flirtatious leer making it hard to breathe, to think straight, about the only thing you can manage is stare at him. Taunting you with the proximity of his arousal purring from every breathless chuckle. Every lingering brush and light-hearted snicker stealing your resolve, leaving you lightweight, airy and incredibly flustered.

Luffy has a sweet charm about him that makes it hard to dwell on your insecurities. It makes you bold, but the gnawing voice hissing at you makes it acutely aware of the size difference between you too.

You are all curves, and he- he is- “But—”

“I’m stronger than you”, he states plainly, the same way someone says the ocean is blue. As a matter of fact, a simple statement not up for debate or further conversation— and it still makes you pause, slinking another smug grin on his face. “You’re cute when you’re shocked! But I don’t know why you’d be shocked, you’ve seen me fight. I’d throw you up easy!” He flexes playfully, showing off a surprising bulge of muscles as he laughs, “I’d beat your ass, size doesn’t matter to me!”

“Captain…”.

“Oh! I don’t wanna hurt you!” He shouts, animatedly waving his hands in a panic, “There are lots of things I wanna do to your ass, but I didn’t mean beat you up! I’d never beat up a friend! Unless I hav’to, but I won’t hit you, promise!” He pauses, mulling something over before the corner of his lip tugs up, “unless you ask me to. I liked throwing you over my shoulder last time, remember?”.

How could you forget? he practically kidnapped you to join his crew. It was exhilarating how effortlessly he lifted you and ran with you shouting over his shoulder.

It excites you a little too much imagining him showing off that strength again.

Pinning you down, gripping your thighs.

“What—”, you wet your lips, noting how his eyes follow the movement of your tongue before you draw in a shaky breath. “What else have you thought about, Captain?”

“The way you say Captain”, he murmurs, sounding a little breathier, a little more distracted while fixated on your plump lips, “makes me wanna...”.

“What?” You whisper, unable to control how your chest rises and falls practically in his face. “Should I stop, Luffy?”

“No”, his adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. There's a beat before amusement curls with his half-lidded eyes, dark mischief purring from his gaze. “You can say it any way you like”. Luffy slides in closer, his arm rests behind you, lightly brushing against your ass, his knee bumping into yours. “But you’re still being mean to me”.

“How? Because of my skirt?”

“Nah, your tits”. He laughs over your face, nudging you playfully with his knee, “you’re fun!”

“You’re the one teasing me, Captain!” you huff, turning away from him with your arms crossed, tits pressed tightly you miss the flicker of his gaze. “You keep saying these things and laughing at me!”

“I can’t help it! You make such funny faces when you’re flustered”, he giggles, a toothy grin flashing you with all its merriment, “makes me wonder how you’d look cummin’”. His voice lowers into a playful husk, “wonder if you’ll choke or cry pretty tears”.

“Luffy”, you gasp, out of breath and unable to meet the wicked gleam in his eyes. You don’t know how to respond to it, to him and his bold confessions.

His brazen honesty. Yet the butterflies burst anyway, spreading warmth in the deepest parts of your core, and a smile you don’t even notice coaxes out as he continues to snicker.

“So, can I?”

You stare at him suspiciously, “can you what?”

“See the face you make when you cum”.

“Captain”.

He tilts his head, “Is that a no? yes? Wait—” He stretches his arm, locking the kitchen door quickly, then turns to you, cheeks flushed and breathless with longing. “Say what you want”, he says boldly, “Cause I jus’ think you’d look pretty cummin’ on me. It drives me crazy thinkin’ about it all the time! It’s like, all I can imagine is you makin’ a mess on me. Sittin’ on my lap with your skirt up an’ thighs squishin’ me. I wanna see it for myself, kay?” His hands flex, keeping them on his own stool despite the hunger that thrums in him to kiss you, “I’ll make it feel so good, please?”

“Now!?” your heart pounds, rushing blood and arousal faster than you can register his words, flurrying an excitement that matches the eagerness Luffy proudly exerts with his grin. “Here? I-”

“Say it”, he presses, impatience buzzing but smiling at you anyway, “do you want me too?”

“I—”

“I wanna kiss you”, he blurts out when your hesitancy drags for too long. When you still don’t answer, he sits back, giving you the dignity to heave in a deep breath that makes him snigger. “I’m sorry, you jus’ get me all worked up”, he says impishly, pushing back his hat to rest on the string. “I wanna grab your face and kiss you, like all the time, but Usopp said I can’t do that”.

“Why did he say that?”

“He said I have’to ask you first. That I can’t jus’ touch you, like I really really want to. That you’d be mad if I kissed you without permission, but I don’t want you to be upset, I want you to want me too. I want you to like me too”, he reiterates firmly, then lightens his tone by talking with his hands again. “I usually don’t care ‘bout stuff like that, but Usopp likes you too, and it made me realise how much I like being with you! Your hugs feel different, I like it when you laugh at my jokes, it makes me feel even happier that I made you laugh! Like…like hot all over— Like, when I see you, I wanna kiss you an’ touch you, an’ feel you on top of’me! It drives me crazy!” He laughs cheerily, talking fast and over himself as you sit and admire his confidence.

His pride, his passion.

He makes it all look so easy— talking jovially, confessing boldly.

His heart exposed.

As though the only thing holding him back are the short breaths between sentences, while you sit wide-eyed and incredibly flustered, unable to make a sound louder than a gasp.

“—I think Zoro is sick of me talkin’ ‘bout you”, he continues to say, “but that’s jus’ cause I think we’d have lot’s’a fun together! I like bein’ friends with you, but like— in a different sort of way, with kisses an’ stuff, ya’know?” Luffy takes a deep breath, his face splitting into his signature grin, but this time, with a precious blush darkening his cheeks, “I really like you, but more than friends— does that make sense?”

Your heart swells, pulsing a beat that matches the nervous drumming of his fingers on the counter, moved by his words in a way you are sure he doesn’t quite understand.

He was closing the distance for you, by casting out the insecurities that stood in between. Forcing you to face them— your doubts, his feelings, your attraction. In the only way he knew how— boisterous and shameless. His confessions were fiercer than any gnawing whispers that dared to intervene.

Luffy was infinitely braver than you.

And you were only getting in your own way.

“Luffy, come here”, you reach for him and tug on his shirt until he stands. He follows you blindly, allowing you to guide him till he is in front of you with his hands firmly by his sides, cracking them one finger at a time— breaking his nerves, counting the seconds.

It was your turn to take the reins, to be brave.

“I like it when you touch me”, you confess bashfully. “I like it when you stare at me, you have the cutest blush I’ve ever seen, even when Nami points it out to me— I just can’t keep a straight face around you”.

The words stumble, and your confidence builds, talking ardently with his hands clasped warmly in yours; you give them a squeeze upon every affliction.

“I admire you so much, you’re so caring and funny. And so strong! And your smile is…its magnetic. It gives me butterflies when you compliment me. Your confidence is…it’s so hot— when you stand up against enemies and your haki pulses, I-I just— I am in awe of you”. Your final words flow out in the gentlest breath, stretching his smile when you finally say; “Luffy, I really like you too…I-I want to be more than friends”.

Luffy grins widely, rosy cheeks blooming, “...yea? With kisses an’ stuff?”

A giggle bursts as you nod at him, “yea, with kisses an’ stuff”.

His knees bump yours playfully, situating himself between your legs and caging you with your back against the counter. The room shrinks suddenly, containing nothing but you, him, and the rhythmic sound of your pulse. You try to contain your excitement, but it splits between your teeth forcing you to draw in a shaky breath through your nose.

Neither of you say a word. And you could stay that way, just for a little while. Stay under the shine of his eyes, in the spotlight of his desires. Wishing you could pause this moment and sit between the seconds because you are finally basking in the radiance of a summer morning. All for you.

The air stifles as he leans down, hands clenching the countertop tightly you can almost hear his knuckles crack. His lips part cutely, his stare burning, and you mirror his expression with the same exhilaration you feel bump blood in your cheeks. In your belly, in your cunt.

Luffy exhales heavily, heart thundering, “So…can I kiss you now?”

The word yes barely flows past your lips before he captures it in a searing kiss.

You moan, melting into him, palming his firm chest the way you have fantasised about for so long, and feeling his heart drum beneath your fingertips when he licks the seam of your lips. stirring the butterflies in your belly into a roar.

“Fuck, yea”, he rasps, nipping on your bottom lip lightly as he deepens the kiss. Cupping your face in his large palms, you gasp from his passion and the heat he elicits with his kiss.

A kiss that feels needy, rushed. Hungry.

His tongue plays with yours, and you can hardly keep up, but it makes you soften anyway. Tongue gently glides against you until he slips in a little further, stroking you with the type of kiss you ache to feel between your thighs.

It’s addicting. Rousing.

It’s a rush. And he chases it with you, answering your sighs and gasps with groans and greedy nibbles on your bottom lip. Something he licks and probes excitedly, growing addicted to the taste of you on his tongue.

Luffy kisses you eagerly, and you mewl from his touch. His scent, his heat.

“Fuck...”

You tug him closer to feel him tight against your chest, and when he shudders, when he whimpers cutely into your lips, you claw at his pants. A fire bursts in your core to hear it again. The sort of fire that fuels desperation and stirs the depravity making you senseless to everything else that isn’t him. His hands, his lips.

Your tits flush and squish unto his scarred chest— not even a breath apart, yet it is not enough for either of you, not when the kiss deepens, his hands leave your face and weave into your hair. Tangling his fingers and pressing you harder into his lips, slipping out the tiniest moan that breaks into a smile.

“You taste like candy”.

Luffy giggles into your kiss, licking the curve of your lips before trailing off to your cheek, neck, and shoulder. Leaving playful bites along the way that have you yelping and squirming, his warm breath fanning against heated skin. “You’re the one who tastes good”, he teases you with a big chomp on the shoulder, “gonna eat you up, pretty”.

You roll your eyes and give his hips a squeeze, “I’m not a piece of meat, Luffy”.

He grabs your waist and hoists you up on the counter, grinning when you shout in surprise from his casual bout of strength. “I meant your pussy”, he says brazenly, “its why your skirts kill me, I think about doing this—” Luffy ducks his head under your skirt and licks a broad stroke on your panty-covered slit.

“Ahh! Lu-luffy!”

“mmm, pink panties”, he murmurs, ignoring your startled huffs and lifts his head momentarily, “I won’t let Brook ask you again. It’s mine now”.

“Luffy, no!”

Your screech does nothing but make him snicker, the sound muffled by your thighs that compress against his head when he dives back in. His tongue does quick work brushing up and down on your panties, dampening it lewdly with slick and salvia that stick to your flesh. You tremble, sigh and buck into his mouth. Shrinking quickly to the lust he pulses in your sex as he rubs your most intimate parts, pulling sighs from kiss-swollen lips swirling into a blend of salacious sounds in the room.

“You’re, uhh-ahh— you’re too good at th-is, stop teasing, please..”. His nose ruts on your clit, the friction of the cloth making you twitch harder for a pressure deeper than his teasing. For something rough, hard and most likely uncut and heavy…but Luffy only sniggers, grazing his teeth on your panty-covered labia just to feel you quiver into his mouth.

“Can’t help myself”, he grins, lifting his head from his new favourite place. “You taste better than I imagined, y’have no idea how often I thought of doin’ this”.

“How often?” you ask tentatively, a panting wreck when all he’s done is play with you.

“til my cock hurt”, he pouts cutely, eyes widening fake innocence while thumbing the dips of cellulite that decorate your thighs, “could hardly sleep ‘cause of you. So mean to me wearin’ these lil’ skirts all the time”. Luffy tugs on it, bunching it up in his fists, “it’s’okay, we’ll use it to clean up all the cum later”.

You shove him, his laughter rings between your legs, “you’re so stupid”.

“And you smell good”, he groans, falling back under your skirt and spreading you wider for his pleasure while flattening his tongue on your clothed pussy. “mmm, getting’ messy fo’me, yea?” His cock jerks from the mewls you try to swallow, but he can feel your pussy soak the flimsy material with every one of his touches. Every lick and playful bump of his nose stirs a gasp you try to hide. Luffy grins, finding enjoyment in this sensual game. “That’s dirty, hehe… lemme clean it up, kay?”

You answer in an undignified whimper, one that makes him laugh some more as he peels your sticky panties to the side and licks the shiny string that connects them. “Fuck”, he swallows a heavy lump, then hurriedly lifts your hips and tugs off your panties all the way. Impatience thumping through his chest.

“W-wait, Luffy—”

“I need to see it all”— is the only thing he says above your weak protests. Your panties he takes as a prize he pockets secretly.

Luffy hums appreciatively, his fixation feeling a little more exposed than the nudity he subjects you to. Twisting embarrassment that forces enough clarity to have you realise you were bottom naked on the kitchen counter with your Captain. With Luffy, of all people, making you nervous in a way none of the other girls would believe.

Thighs spread, slit wet.

“W-We can’t, not in here”. You try to reason, try to close your legs and sit up, but he holds you down with his gaze. With the hyper focus and intensity that pulsates in them, pinning you to the counter and setting you a flame harder than his praises.

“Be good for me, kay? It’s jus’ us”. He hurriedly shrugs off his red shirt and unbuttons his shorts, but doesn’t strip any further, revealing the heavy tent that indecently shapes his erection through the dark fabric of his underwear.

Now you are the one staring.

Your mouth hangs open in a small o, not that would ever fit the girth Luffy has somehow managed to conceal all this time, making his cheeks blossom with your stare. His pants sag now that they are loose. Dark tuffs of hair peak beneath the waistband, titillating the evidence of his arousal. Begging to be free. A hefty bulge pushing against the cloth with a raunchy, crude stain that has you squeezing your thighs and shuffling to try and ease the pressure in your achy cunt.

The curl of his smile returns, one that makes you shudder beneath his hand when he grips your thigh, coaxing them open. “It’s jus’ us”, he says gently, “You, me, an’ you’re cute pussy”.

“Luffy! You can’t say that”.

“Why not? You’re the prettiest girl ever”, he grins, unable to tear his gaze away as he slides his thumb between your puffy lips, “wow, so sticky…”. His fingers tenderly prod and roll your clit, strong hands delicately slow for your pleasure. He takes careful note of all the noises you emit when he sinks a finger in your cunt— when he slips it along your slit. How your back arches when he presses deep and curls his fingers into a squishy spot. All the sighs and mewls that escape a reward for his efforts. A lewd fascination darkens his expression with the viscous moisture that paints his fingers and glosses your puffy vulva in a shining coat. “No, no, don’t run from it”, he coos, cradling your plush hip and keeping you pinned one-handed. “Lemme watch, I like how your pussy sucks on my finger, fuck…like its gripping me…” His words husk into a low groan, “wow, imagine my cock in you…in deep…ohh s’tight, ngh, so tight on my finger, pretty. Your pussy likes me, hehe”.

You want to tell him to shut up, to stop teasing you, to release his hold on you and collect a decent breath. But you don’t, you can’t, any lies to make him stop choke into a moan. Thrumming lust-filled blood through your core, aching your clit. Your body betrays you with another buck of your hips─ desperately searching for a release he plays with as his thick fingers idly glide upon your sensitive folds, sliding them up and down─ collecting the gooey wetness dripping on his digits with your cunt obscenely clenching in front of him.

“Wowowow, my fingers are all wet hehehe”. He licks up the sopping mess on his fingers, smiling as he does. “mmm, s’nice…”. Luffy leans down, hooking his arms over your thighs and locking you in place— shushing you gently upon seeing the panic begin to rise when his mouth is inches from your cunt, “shh, it’s’okay, you gonna make my face wet too, yea?”

“Ohh, uhhh-ah, Lu-Luffy! Not here!” your whole body curls into his tongue, faltering the weak objections that have you withering in the iron clutches keeping you cinched in his grasp.

“shh, you’re doin’ so well, I love it”, he mumbles, slick squelching on his lips, murmuring praises that muffle his mouth in your cunt when you try to break free. “Pussy s’pretty— so so pretty. Lemme taste— jus’ a lil’, please, please?”

“But what if some-one waa-alks in?” you whinge, attention glued on the door and the tiny window that could expose the scene between you, while your heavy breaths do a poor job disguising your gasps.

“Doors locked”, he states, licking the sensitive bites he marks on your tender thighs. “it’s’okay, it’s jus’ us”.

“You sure?”

He only nods, that muffled mm-hmm he says when he’s busy with his meal, burying his face into your sex as if it were food on a plate. Lapping and slurping on your cunt— his smile caresses your skin when you moan for him prettily. Lips parted, breaths uneven. Your voice carries into low whines resembling his name, cute sounds that tingle down his spine with half-garbled protests making him press harder to drown them out. Stretching the hot muscle to a fatter girth that fills you beautifully, tight walls rippling the deeper he drags his tongue along the spongy spots in your pussy.

“ple-goddd— Luffy! Ahh-uhh…slow dow-wn!”

He ignores you again, too drunk to even think of releasing you before he has his fill because you churn the deepest grunts and sighs from him, setting alight a fever of lust he can feel building in his abdomen. Coursing through the thin veins in his cock. A relatively new sensation he chases in the heat of your cunt. In the sounds of your pleasure.

You can tell by the slow jerks of his hips, in his throaty grumbles against your flesh that he’s trying to ignore the thick bulge tenting his pants. You attempt to reach for him, to shift out of his hold and pull shudders too— but he pins you down harder. Flexing his strength against your plump curves into the cold counter.

“Don’t run from me”, he whines, dipping his fingers in and out in quick succession to gain back those salacious cries. “Lemme stay right here for’a’bit. I like it too much to stop, kay?”

You huff a broken chuckle, the counter sticking to your flushed skin, “you shouldn’t look so cute talking like that”.

“Like what? How good your pussy tastes?” Luffy peers at you through his lashes, “or how much my cock aches fo’you?” He laughs breathily at your girlish stammer, swiping his thumb on his bottom lip and licking off the excess, “hol’ still, ‘m still hungry”.

Your needy mewls surge as Luffy dives back in and eats messily.

Long strokes of his tongue massage your silky folds, gliding up and down in wide, flat brushes with his nose lightly rutting against the sensitive nerves of your clit. Your chest heaves, the room spinning as your lashes flutter against your cheeks, collecting the tears that bead tiny balls of ecstasy. Only suited by the wet splashes of his tongue resounding with his loud grunts— the room doused in the lingering sounds of sex, his calloused hands squeeze the soft fat of your thighs in a vice grip, digging his nails into the grooves of your cellulite like they are made for him.

“pretty, pretty pussy”, he groans, keening when you claw at his hair, “wet n’ sticky...mmm, I like your pussy”. Luffy’s incoherent mumbles dribble slick down his chin. He quickly laps it up, greedy and keening not to miss a single drop of sweetness that seeps from your cunt. “It’s mine now, yea?” he glances up at you, his mouth glistening, chin shining, staring at you wide-eyed and expectedly. “I get to do this whenever I want?”

“Ye-yeah”, you swallow the nervous lump in your throat, senses haywire and your clit pulsing for his kiss. “Whenever you want”. You can’t imagine not doing this again.

“Yes! Can’t wait to tell Usopp how your pussy tastes!”

“Wait, no-! uhh, fuuuckk- Luffy!”

The wet smacks of his mouth and veiled grumbles fill your ears as you throw your head back, clinging to his fluffy locks for stability when your breath is knocked out in a long moan.

“Oh god, ohhh god. Jus’ like that, s’good, fuckk. Such’a good boyy”.

“Yea? Feel that good? shishi— ya’ feel’so tight on my tongue, fuuuckk… can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout you on my dick squeezin’ me like this. Make my cock nice’n’wet…shit— sexy, pretty girl Cum fo’me, please, need to taste it first, then I’ll fuck you. Fuck you on the table— fuck you on the floor, wall, I dunno— figure it out ina’bit. Sound good?” he slurps loudly, “Yea, it do, shishi— your pussy says so. Creamin’ all over my mouth hehe”.

“Luffy! Don’ talk like that, uhhh- fuuuuck, baby”.

“Ya’ like that? Mmm…I’ll talk fo’you then, make you feel goo’ fuckin’ you with my tongue, huh? Like this? Uhh-uhhh- ahh, fuck, you’re makin’ a mess on me”, he coos. His lips squish your clit, pursing his mouth and sucking the sensitive nub playfully before releasing it with a sweet pop. Drool hangs off his tongue as he pants heavily, your labia shining with sticky residue, puckered hole aching to be stuffed full─ you’re so pretty. It excites him to finally touch you like this, a perverted sort of eagerness he shamelessly expresses above your moans. “I like your pussy. She’s so-so cute fo’me. Look-look—” He dips his fingers inside and shows you the stringy mixture that leaks from you, “See? It’s drippin’ all’over, makin’ such a dirty mess. ya’like me that much, yea? hehe”.

“Quit it”, you sigh half-heartedly through the haze.

Your pride can’t handle Luffy’s teasing. He’s too good, too observant. He touches you with no skill or guidance, he simply plays with your pussy on his tongue. Swirling, flicking, swishing the hot muscle over your soaked pussy lips over and over. Fucking your cunt. Calling you pretty, talking with his mouth full. You cry out and clamp your mouth shut just as quickly, making him grunt unhappily.

“Don’t do that”, he rolls his tongue harder, rubbing into your velvety walls until he hears that cry of his name, and the playfulness of his touch begins again.

His satisfaction bleeds with the slick that trickles out, sparkling his skin with addictive tingles that tastes like you. He needs more. More of you, more of your moans, more of your supple body squishing against his. Luffy is greedy like that. About your body, your smile, your cries— he’d lick your tears if he can break away from your clit fast enough. He needs this, desperately. Needs you. If there was anyone out there stifling their flustered laughter behind their hands, they could hear it in the pitiful pleas he makes in your cunt.

You’re so close, his cock aches.

“Lemme taste your cum, please. I can feel’ya tighten’in on’me”.

It is— you feel it, your pussy quivers on his tongue. Clit twitches on his lips, tummy fluttering. “don’t stoppp”, you whine incessantly. Struggling to maintain coherency when your release bubbles and his name topples in broken gasps. Curling your toes, trembling your thighs. “Imma cu-um uhh-ahh, fu-fuuckk, yes ye-es!! Luffy!” praises fall in high whines. Coil snapping, back taut─ you feel the pleasures light your nerves, touching every cell that bursts in your core as your orgasm erupts, coating his face, chest and mouth with cum.

“That’s it, that’s it, cum fo’me”, he grunts, panting feverishly through the lewd squirts that splash from your release, using the tip of his thumb to brush soothing circles on your puffy clit. Devouring every drop of your essence you offer him— throbbing a delicious ache turning you into a pathetic, pliable mess that Luffy squeezes and caresses as you descend from your high.

“Good girl, so-so good— ya’made such a mess shishishi”.

He buries his face back into your sex, cleaning up the gooey mess and sensitising every nerve he touches with the pad of his finger and the tip of his tongue.

Sweat beads down your brow, breath stuttering inaudible mewls as you squirm in his grip, twisting your hips to run from his mouth when it all becomes too much. “Luffy, st-stop”, you exhale, tugging on his hair for attention when his slurping turns sloppy again. “Fu-uck me now, ahh, Luffy! Didn’t you pro-promise me, to fuck me nice?”

He snaps his head up, releasing you suddenly— excitement glowing, face wet. “Wan’ me to fuck you now?!”

You nod, exhaling heavily. Finally, you sit up, smoothing your skirt over your lower half and covering the glossy sheen of your inner thighs to cup his face, wiping the excess off his cheeks. “Yes, Captain”, you purr sweetly, “fuck me nice’an hard”.

Luffy leaps up hastily, fumbling with his pants to remove them. A heady sense of urgency overwhelmed his mind. “Fuck-fuck!” He hisses to himself, kicking off his shorts and underwear once they pass his knees, freeing his hardened cock that hangs heavily. A girthy erection donning a two-tone tan/brownish hue on his shaft with a blush, darkened tip and a visible vein that trails along the side beneath round balls you ache to weigh on your tongue. It doesn’t sit completely erect, the meaty heft to it slants him down, dripping pearly beads of his arousal you longingly part your lips to taste.

Fuck.

“Come ‘ere”.

“Wait— ohh, shit! L-Luffy!”

He snatches you up, stripping off your top, lifting you from the counter by your thighs, and barely waits for you to cling to his body before walking over to the nearest flat surface— which just so happens to be the massive fridge.

“But—”

“Tell me later, fuck now”, he grunts, pressing you tight against the metal container only so he can release one hand to grasp his cock, lining himself up with your dripping cunt. Luffy grins suddenly, your shallow breaths caressing his lips, “nice an’ hard, yea?”

You nod, anticipation churning, lust thickening.

Luffy pushes in, and something hot— something sensual and molten flushes across his stomach. It's hard and fast and pulls his balls tight, bucking his hips until his cock is fully sheathed in your warmth. His abdomen clenches, muscles quiver— “Ohh god”, he chokes, diving in deeper, harder. He can just about hear your moans, even as they’re breathed right into his jaw, the laboured slaps of his hips encase the room. Filling you, intoxicating him. Your pussy already moulding perfectly into the shape of his girthy dick.

Every curve, ridge and vein finds a home in your cunt, fit snugly and warm as he whispers filth in your ear. Calling you pretty again and again— through the teasing affliction is replaced by pitiful, needy pleas to your body, to your heat, to the little trembles twitching on his cock. Followed by your name hissing through gritted teeth as he plunges into the softness of your pussy— into the lust that sears his skin. Gasping delirious praises as if the flutters of your walls and spews of slick are answers to his babbles.

You think you warn him— something about the fridge, or the sheer size of his cock bullying your delicate flesh— but none of it registers the way his name does. The pressure is blinding, your cunt clings to him, and he splits you open with every harsh snap of his hips. Fucking you frantically. Chasing an orgasm you can feel the ripple of his abs against your stomach already.

Ears tinted red, cheeks dusted pink, looking wrecked and insanely cute— you hold him close, planting kisses along his neck. The teasing glint in his eye has vanished, and his mouth hangs open instead— spilling drool into your chest as wretched gasps tear from his throat.

“I like you better like this”, you hum, pushing back the sweaty strands that cling to his forehead. Hungry, hooded and drunk on arousal suited Luffy in a way only your cunt understood as it fluttered on him and triggered another hitched moan. “Cum, ple-ease, Luffy. Need to feel you cum”, you coo at him, smiling when he lifts his head and whines a sound like your name. His lust-blown eyes brimming with unshed tears, your chest swells with pride. “Feel good, Captain?” you can’t help but tease, “y’like fuckin’ me, mm? uhh- I nev’er imagined you’d be so big”.

He digs his fingers in your meaty thighs, holding onto a pinch of clarity as your nipples rub on his chest. Soft an’ squishy an’ so warm he can’t help but push against it. “God-nnghh, ya’feel so-so good, pretty”, he whimpers. “It’s’like ya’pussy’s grippin’ me, beggin’ for’it. ‘s’wet, ya’hear it? how wet y’are? Shh, shh, listen—” raunchy, sticky splats echo between you, heated arousal saturating your bodies, soiling your skirt, splattering on his pelvis and staining your inner thighs. Each punch of his hips spills pre-cum into your cushy walls as Luffy groans loudly, raking bite sized kisses when he buries his face in your shoulder. “’mma cum, pretty. Cu-uuhh, cum in you”, he says, saliva dripping messily on your skin, “Make’a hot, dirty mess in you— an’then I’mma fuck’ya ahh-ahh, sh-it— ‘mma fuck you hard, sweet girl. Ohh god! uhhh…‘yer pussy’s mean to’me”, he huffs, pawing at your ass, “makin’ my dick hu-urt— fuck! s’tight, ughh”.

“mmm, thought y’loved my pussy?”

“I do! So-so-so much”, he squeaks, each syllable followed by a hard thrust. His words stay rugged and croaked, pistoning into your sopping cunt hastily. Clumsily. “gon’a tell ‘em how goo’ you’are. Tell ‘em ya’mine! Tell ‘em ‘yer pussy gets wet fo’me an’ s’queezes on’my cock, uhh-uhh, she like that, huh? She jus’ pulsed on me, shishi, y’like e’vryone knowin’? hehe, we’ll show’em who y’belong to. ahh, fu-ck, I’ll bite y’ass an’ you can bend over— ya’skirt will show’em shishishi— ohh goddd, keep-keep clenchin’ like that, nnghh uhh-uhh, pretty girl, I’ll fuck ya in my spot next, right in the open— nghh-shit! dirty-nasty girl ahh-haha bein’ turned on from people seein’ you? ‘yer ass bouncin’ an’ ridin’ my cock? Fu-uuck— fuck, fuck!”

He’s so hard, so worked up. Luffy opens his mouth, but only a strangled moan huffs out this time— his cock squelching as he ruts and humps and jerks into your pussy. “Ohh, fu-uhh, ye-s. please, ple-ease!”

“Cum, I wan’ it, Luffy— cum in me, please”.

His hair tickles your cheeks as he nods. Gripping your flesh, panting your name— rocking into you faster and faster, mindlessly thrusting and crying and cooing until splotches of creamy cum shoot out in thick gobs.

“Ohh! Fuck!” he squeals, giggling through his laboured breaths as his orgasm punches through him so quickly you shudder in his embrace. “In, in! Ta-ake it!” he pumps into you drunkenly, his grin lopsided and gaze misty. “God, Fuck”. Murmurs of good boy nuzzle into his cheek, coaxing him through the ropes of thick cum that spill from the sides and coat you both in its sordid mixture.

His cock stays stiff, his high buzzing. “’m still hard”.

Luffy bounces you back up in his arms securely. His balance stays perfect, even though the carnal fog that shakes your plush body up an’ down— Luffy’s got you. He rocks into you, rattling the giant fridge that keeps you from wriggling out of his grasp because Luffy doesn’t stop. He doesn’t breathe past a croak and doesn’t give you a moment to adjust, not when your pussy grips him like that or smears sticky kisses all over his length.

And you’re not any better. Words fail you; moans fall, his lips stay just inches from yours and yet you can’t gather the strength to tilt your chin and touch them. Silently begging him to be closer when he’s already caressing the deepest, most delicate parts of your skin. You claw at his back, roll your hips, and shudder from the pulsating thickness that stretches your cunt.

“fuuuck”, His muscles ripple as he shifts, taking you with him. “Floor, need you deeper”.

Suddenly, you’re on your back— gently laid on top of the tablecloth he drags down onto the floor to use as a blanket. Luffy manoeuvres you swiftly, folding you in half, wasting no time or trickles of spent cum that leaks from you before sinking back in— skin to skin, breaths hot, legs bent and over his shoulders. A full mating press shrinking your lungs, heaving only horrid gasps Luffy drinks in a sloppy kiss.

Tongues gliding, moans melding.

Lust-scented sweat drenches both your bodies, scorching you with desperation you had never felt burn your core this way. Shrouding an erotic sort of haze that makes you frantic to relieve the ache he stimulates with every stroke of his length. Yet he doesn’t hear you above his own cries, delving his cock in deep, bruising the spongy walls of your cunt with his fat dick and blood-filled veins dragging along the skin.

Luffy fucks almost mercilessly, his stamina unyielding, his kisses ravishing— pumping his cock in and out like pleasurable punches to the gut while you stay subjected to his unrelenting pace. You try pushing at his belly, untangling your limbs, but Luffy is much stronger than you.

His strong thrusts clap your bodies together, a harsher sound than before. Gravity doing half the work for him while he freely gropes your tits. Kneading your cushy belly, your curvy hips, your fat ass. So much of you to grab, to pinch and massage. He can’t get enough, too hungry for his pleasures now that his fantasies don’t vanish in a blink.

He should be savouring it, in the back of his mind he knows that— but the way his thick shaft reappears lathered in a warm layer of cum from every roll flurries a dark, gluttonous need to see more. It’s not only arousal and passions anymore, it’s a deep seeded hunger to feel you pliant and cum-soaked. Your plush body was made for him that way. Your ass, chub and hips are the perfect fit for Luffy’s greedy hands.

And Luffy is not the type of man to be shy about his preferences.

“pretty girl, I love touchin’ you”, he nips at your cheek, swallowing at your moans with a kiss, “’yer body so-so soft!” he chomps playfully at your breasts, tonguing the areolas, teething on your nipples. “hol’ on”, he groans suddenly, lifting his pelvis and slamming back in your warmth, “fuuck, ahh, it’s’like ‘yer pussy’s droolin’ on me ev’ry time, shit. Can’t stop doin’ that hehe”. He uses his hands this time, tweaking at your nipples with the rough pads of his fingers, “please, ple-ease don’ wear a bra ‘round me anymore, kay? ‘yer boobs are perf, soft an’squishy!” he makes them bounce, his chuckles sounding more and more strained with your pussy spasming on his thrusts.

Sparking lust with every impact, you can almost feel the imprint of his cock— the touch of his veins, the kiss of his tip, the swell of his fat balls spanking your ass— your inner walls suckling on every inch. Smearing wetness all over him. A sob tears through your throat as he presses down on your belly, pumping into your cunt gaping on his cock, teasing his finger on your clit just to feel you quiver around his girth.

You cry out breathlessly, a warning of your impending release— or something that sounds close to it. Truthfully, you claw at the tablecloth beneath you, withering and trembling, locked in a position he has total control over. Only being able to answer in yes and just like that, lost in the sensuality of his arousal.

His greedy hands groping you exactly the way he always intended. His tongue swirling on your pebbled bud, his teeth nibbling and leaving their mark on every surface his neck stretches to. His, his, his.

Hard and rough and so, so good.

“Luffy! Ohh, Lu-uffy, I-I—” you cry nonsensically, pretty tears falling past your lashes now as the blend of sensations rip through your core. Praises stumbling, gasps falling—

“Cu-um with me”, Luffy pleads, teary-eyed and hips faltering, “make my cock wet, ple-ahh, please!”

“ohhh, god!” you wail, your orgasm ripples and you cry out his name like a depraved prayer into the column of his neck as clear cum squirts out and splashes on his pelvis, soaking the makeshift blanket.

“ye-es, that’s it— ahh-haa”, he giggles hysterically.

Luffy answers your cries with throaty rasps as he cradles your body, quickly following suit into a mind-numbing pleasure as he rides the wave of your combined release until his stuttered strokes turn into languid glides— filling your spongy walls with hot blasts of cum for a second time.

Your nails rake down his back, moaning blissfully in the aftershocks of your orgasm, holding him close, smiling wide.

For a while, your breaths take the time to even out, slowly descending from the high you shared as he releases your thighs and presses kisses where his hands gripped too tight. Murmuring his apologies for every dig and teeth mark that decorates your supple skin, kisses feeling faintly like pleased smirks whenever his lips touch you. And you melt into it anyway.

His hands, his kiss, his praises.

Low rasps of “pretty girl” merge with your sighs as Luffy sinks into your arms, panting widely. dabbling kisses on your neck as you cuddle him yet unable to resist the temptation to start slowly rocking his hips just to hear you whimper and push at his chest again. Flaring a gentle warmth between you when it triggers tiny tremors in your creamy walls.

Luffy laughs breathily between your whines, canting his hips, digging into your flesh. Mesmerised by the hot layer of cum that paints his shaft and the rings of white, slippery juices creating bubbles at the base of your pubic bones at every drag.

“Luffy”, you whine, exhaustion slurring your words. “I need a minute if you wanna go again. Not everyone has your stamina”.

“shh, s’okay, look-look”, Luffy pulls out slowly, watching the mixture drool from your sensitive hole. A big spurt spits out first, then ever so steadily copious spills of gooey semen and wet squirts seep from your cunt, soaking the cloth as it pools down your thighs. He snickers, “so dirty, you made my cock all shiny”.

You slap his arm tiredly, your whole body humming and sticky while he sits back on the balls of his feet, grinning down at you, and you never felt more beautiful.

He’s silent for a moment, though his eyes are soft as he stares.

Luffy leans down and cups your face, his hands large and warm holding your sweet cheeks in his palms. He smiles widely, gaze hooded, lips parted.

Your breath hitches.

“You make the cutest face when you cum”.

You slap him again, and his laughter rings loudly.

His smile is bright, his joy contagious, and the sheen of sweat glistening on his skin makes him glow that much brighter.

Luffy is so pretty.

THE END

reblogs are much appreciated :3 don't repost or translate my work.

#luffy is so cutee :3 #luffy x reader #꩜ one piece.#꩜ nsfw.#luffy smut #꩜ recs.#꩜ ily.#꩜ reblogs.

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jesi555 · 2 months

Text

They say, "She's gone too far this time" - Alastor x Reader.

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Tags: ,18+, Smut, NSFW, edging, BDSM, Alastor does what he wants, there’s plot if you squint really hard, alastor in heat, breeding kink, Possesive! Alastor, Jealous!Alastor, Protective!Alastor, masturbation,Size Kink, Degradation kink, General horniness, General creepness, I didn’t proof read this, english isn’t my first language, no beta we die like men here, etc etc etC

Part I | Part 2 | Part 3 | (can be read as a standalone, but some context will be missing)

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Word Count: Big like Alastor's monster cock.

A/N: I CAN'T BELIEVE IS FINALLY OUT. I TOURTURED MYSELF WRITTING THIS. BUT I AM REALLY PROUD OF THIS. I hope the "final" chapter for "Prey" does justice to your expecatations. I'm incredibly happy with this journey and all the nice things that came out of it. To be able to write for you guys is a true honour. I have many more ideas in my mind. The brain rot is real. So for the happiness of some and dissatisfaction of others I will keep writing.

As always, this one goes to my incredible riend @smallershorteranduncut, who always support my ideas and co-parents this fic. Take a bow honey. Te amo amiga

Thank you all so much for reading, feedback is appreciated. Your suggestions and ideas fuels me. Without further due, happy reading.

Taglist: @markster666 @jyoongim @stygianoir @pepperycookie @fraspent @aether-th3-enby @lady-valtieri @karolinda007-blog @jesi-pinkman @polytheatrix If the tags aren’t working or you wanna be tagged, let me know.

Hands are the closest thing to intimacy you will get from the Radio Demon in public. Hands, and their clawed fingers interlocking with your hands and their delicate fingers like a hidden oath under the table: you’re not meant to be far away from me.

Alastor kisses your hand, lips ghosting over the soft flesh of your finger, your cheeks blushing a lovely shade of scarlet. Alastor steals your idle hand away from your lap, engulfing it with his own huge one, a soothing ballet of intertwined fingers beginning their dance despite the chaotic discussion happening on the table you are both seated.

“We only have two months until extermination day, and we still don’t have shit. Not even a doomed-to-fail plan”

You feel scared, of course you are scared. You don’t have time to even process your new life in hell and everything you know is now being threatened. You try to pay attention to what they are saying, but it feels like they are not saying anything at all.

“Better to make peace with your gods.. or whatever they did in ancient times before a battle they knew they weren’t surviving. We are all dead”

Alastor brings a clawed thumb to your wrist, his skin feeling your pulse fluttering like a desperate moth trying to reach the light that will kill it. He knows you better than you know yourself, you’ve learned.

You hear his voice, but you don’t listen to a word he says. He seems to be trying to intervene in the ongoing apocalyptic preaching that became the hotel’s routine. As the doomsday clock of Hell tics closer and closer to midnight, the walls of the posh Hazbin Hotel seem to be closing in on everybody. Animosity on the air so thick you could choke on it.

And yet you and Alastor found paradise inside the closing walls and freeing forest of his room.

Alastor hand cage your tiny wrist inside it, and now he can feel your fluttering pulse under his lips. His lips kiss exactly where he can feel your heartbeat, lingering there almost as he is tasting the fear in your blood, consuming it, in an attempt to purge said fear out of you.

He has made clear time and time again that your fear belongs to him and him only.

Maybe the other residents of the Hotel are too wrapped up in their own feelings of despair to notice the intimacy of Alastor’s acts towards you. You wondered if they know about you two, in public Alastor is always the perfect gentleman towards you, careful, regarding you with something akin to cautiousness, almost as if he is scared you’d shatter by the slightest touch. What a striking contrast to how he breaks you as he chooses when you two are alone.

Hand in hand Alastor now guides you to his room, he leads you through with urgency and something else that makes your heart skip a beat with anticipation, the only thing filling the silence being his ragged breath and the voices inside your brain, screaming how you need him, demanding that you drown yourself in him. Let him take, let him consume.

More touch, get his hands all over you. Whatever it takes.

Whatever it takes.

But you don’t have time to execute any of your plans to bait Alastor into touching you, as soon as you step inside his door he throws you against the nearest wall, not even bothering to lock the door as he normally would. The wind gets knocked out of you, you are not sure if it was the sudden movement or the way your demon lover is kissing you like you are his last chance of salvation. There’s no mocking tone that warns you of your eagerness to be touched by him, only the friction of your hips pressed against one another and tongues dancing to a madman’s tune. Your mind sings with the feeling of conquest, fucking finally. Almost an entire day without being fucked by Alastor is definitely abnormal by the standards set throughout his rut. You’ve grown accustomed to doing your chores around the hotel filled with his cum, after being bent over a random flat surface ass up, face down, his cock moving in and out of your cunt at an impossible pace.

Sometimes all it took was a glance: Alastor would finish tormenting some unsuspecting guest, his eyes would seek yours across the room. you were never too close to draw suspicion, but never too far it took more than a sprint towards an empty corridor and into Alastor’s trap.

Pressed against a wall, his hands cover your mouth as you desperately moan his name like a filthy prayer

“Look at you, you just can’t help yourself can you?” his claws tear the pencil skirt of your uniform apart, entering you all at once. An obscene sound leaves your lips as you feel him bottoming out, your hands clawing the wallpaper as Alastor takes you from behind.

“What a wanton whore. Moaning like that, even though your precious friends are just around the corner” he merciless rubs your clit, wanting the release as quick and as bad as you do

“Do you want everyone to know you like being fucked like a breeding mare by the Radio demon?” you want to bite his finger. Yes, i fucking love it, i want them to know. You wanna snap back at him, just so he will be pissed about your defiance and make this last longer

“I can cover your desperate moans as you ruin yourself for me, but the sounds of your dripping wet cunt makes as I hate fuck you give it all away” that delicous mocking voice making you so giddy you actually fucking bite his hand.

He hits your ass so hard you see stars. His static-y laugh fills the corridor all the way to the end.

Next thing you know you are desperately changing into your magic renewed skirt, there’s so much cum it’s running down your legs. You can’t walk straight.

“Good luck bending down to fix curtains with a sore ass like that,pet.” the condescending comment drips from his lips like the sweetest poison. Alastor pulls himself together like nothing happened. “tsk tsk” he taps his microphone gently on the top of your head. “Don’t pretend you didn’t bring this on yourself!” he glances down at you, still too cock drunk to even try starting that typical banter you two know all too well by now.

“Oh! And you don’t want to know what’s going to happen if these curtains aren’t fixed and the carpet is stained, you better don’t let any of my seed spill and go to waste” the kiss he leaves on top of your forehead hitting capital C condescending. “Don’t forget it, pet. If I can smell it on you, I can smell it everywhere else” his eyes flash red, dangerously close to dials.

“You. Really. Don’t. Want. To. Test. Me. Today.” static picks up around you. You don’t know if it’s actually possible but you feel yourself getting even wetter at his threats, his promises.

You obviously tested him that day.

Duh, missing the possibility of being punished by Alastor? Weren’t you raised catholic? your mind tells you. Plus, Lucifer came to visit, adding to it all, so you really couldn't help yourself…..

But that’s not what you are getting today, Alastor hasn’t said a word to you since he hauled you to his rooms. The way he’s touching you is borderline sloppy. Trailing open mouthed kisses across your jaw and neck. There’s an urgency so unlike him, almost like he is deep down, also desperate. You tug on his bowtie, needing to break the kiss. Unfortunately, even dead you still needed to breathe.

That’s kinda false advertisement. What’s the point of being dead and in hell if breathing will still get in the way of sinning?

“Do you doubt me, pet?” the edge on his voice breaking your train of thought. He makes you straddle him, pressing your harder against the wall, you wiggle your hips thinking it will aid your answer. He hisses at the movement. Your lack of spoken response seems to add to his temper. “Answer me, little doe. Do you think you aren’t safe with me?” His eyes soften only for a second, still he doesn’t let you answer, cause his hand grips your neck, your pulse point lying dangerously under his thumb. The pressure ever so slightly cutting your airways, your heart beating thump thump thump, now faster as you again walk the line between safety and danger, aimsless.

Alastor is getting delirious as he feels your beating heart fluttering faster and faster, like wings of a trapped butterfly. Anticipation, mixed with fear from the adrenaline rush. Fear now caused by him. The taste so sweet he can feel it in the air, licking a long strip down the length of your throat he finally tastes the victory he wanted. Your undivided attention is now his, you shouldn’t fear nothing but him. Not even the end of the world is enough reason to feel your mind being tormented by desperation that isn’t inflicted by him.

You shiver under his touch, he knows you feel terrified, not knowing if something is going to snap inside him and he will finally maul and murder you. You are literally alive because he is letting you live, holding your neck like that, completely at his mercy. Alastor can also feel the pooling wetness between your thighs, the thick scent of fear mixed with your arousal overrides his brain.

My god how we ruined you beyond the point of no return.

Your eyes widen as he applies more pressure making you truly light headed now, you can feel your legs start tingling, but your core only grows hotter.

“Are you scared now?” Alastor asks you, his grin is completely predatory, his eyes burning fiery red. You try to nod, to do something to get a reaction out of him. You are very torn between defying him ever further, even though he knows exactly how you feel, just to tilt him over the edge, and asking for mercy. Something makes you decide against defiance today, but you can’t do much more than struggle. “Good. You should be scared. You should be very, very scared because what I am going to do to you is scarier than any angel army”

Alastor retreats the pressure on your throat, you feel a sudden sting, a foreign sensation runs alongside your arms, but you are still lightheaded from the choking, so it takes you a little longer to understand what’s happening:

Blood drips from your neck, Alastor’s eyes transfixed by how the tiny droplets follow the elegant curve of your shoulders, your wrists are bound by something velvety. You feel the supposed velvet constraints slap your stretched arms.

Oh.

Oh fuck, one of Alastor’s tentacles is pinning your arms in place, above your head. You are used to the chains that, despite being magic, still cut and bruise you but this is something else. Blood might have returned to your brain, but you feel a different type of giddy now.

Alastor is giving you a side of him you never thought you would see, maybe this is a sign he will definitely murder you now.

Right now you don’t mind being the sacrifice, because that’s how it feels like, like you are a sacrifice for the psychopathic sadist cannibal demon you’ve learned to love.

You feel your demon lover feasting on your blood, the blood you didn’t even see being spilled because you were completely caught by the sweet, sweet torture the same demon was inflicting on you. You are so turned on by this, Alastor sucks on the cut and you see stars. A delicious, obscene moan leaves your lips.

“Oh my darling girl, moaning like that at the sight of me feasting on your blood, I truly ruined you didn’t I?” he trusts into your hips, dry humping feels so unlike him, but you desperately need the friction, the heat between your hips growing hotter by the minute.

There’s something exceptionally primal about the way the Radio Demon is behaving today, the type of wild that is completely untamed, unpredictable. The type of wild they used to put the fear of god into you back when you were alive and naive. But fear is known to you now, and as paradoxical as it sounds, you don’t fear it anymore. In fact you crave it.

You are so far gone now, that when Alastors slowly drags his clawed finger right below where he feels your fluttering heartbeat and breaks skin, you are past beyond only moaning you are begging now.

“please, please Alastor, just please..” you whimper softly, you don’t even know what you are begging for. Whatever Alastor is willing to give you, you are willing to take. All of him, all consuming.

The shallow waterfall of blood droplets coats alastor’s fingers, in his eyes he holds a hunger so blinding the only thing on his mind is how we can take more of you: fuck you, drink you, consume you.. all the possibilities, Alastor is completely aware that you will do anything he will asks of you and he intends to exploit it for less than honerable causes.

“You know how wrong this is, don’t you pet? You’ve been warned so many times not to get in my way. That I would ruin you without hesitation, that I would make you cry and like it. And yet…” Alastor pauses, taking your blood and sucking it from his fingers. He actually moans when he tastes it, a sound so fucking deliciously erotic and deliciously wrong, you could cum for just hearing it. He never wastes an opportunity to scold and dregate you and nonetheless he’s the one speechless by the taste of you, lips open in agape. He is so hard it fucking hurts when he presses you even harder against the wall. Something is happening right now, you are sure of it. His eyes are maniac, flashing red that burns, that entraps. You’ll always be nothing but a doe caught in the headlights of his eyes.

The dangerous static fills the room and envelops your body like it’s your favorite knitted sweater. Inside the Radio Demon’s trap, you feel home.

Suddenly he is kissing you again, with urgency, with abandon. You can taste your blood on his lips as he deepens the kiss, you’re so wet now it stains his pants, it drips down and stains the carpet. Alastor seems to be losing patience, you don’t know why because you are literally being held hostage by him, displayed like a sacrifice for a wicked god.

“And yet you are a fucking whore, dripping wet as I treat you like the sacrificial lamb that you are. Your blood a maddening aphrodisiac, that makes me want to fuck you as I make you bleed more for me”

ah, here it is. Sweet, sweet degradation.

Tentacles stretch your arms completely above your head, making you arch your back, your legs locking harder on Alastor hips as you straddle him for support.

“The only thing you should be scared of is how you let me spill your blood and use your body as I please without batting a pretty eyelash from those doe eyes. Of how your fear is fuel to my desire. Of how you are scared and horny at the same time and you like it.”

Alastor turns your panties to shreds and without much more warning inserts two fingers inside your dripping wet cunt. He has no interest in taking it slow, pumping you with the same urgency he kissed you. Your moans, the sinful wet sounds of you being fingered and his voice, a cacophony of pure passion.

“Remember your place, pet. You are being thoroughly fucked by hell’s cruelest overlord, naked and afraid. Your fear only adds to this mess between your thighs”

You arch your back even more, to give Alastor more access, you need him deeper. His ministrations are careless but his words are heavy with sentiment. Tentacles put your arms back in place. It’s gonna hurt, it’s gonna sting, ruining yourself like this for him, but you are committed now, to give him everything, to let him take everything.

“Does your fear of the angel army make you feel like this? Bleeding happily while in the throes of passion? Begging for pain and pleasure that shouldn’t exist together? Making you scream in orgasmic bliss at only the possibility of punishment?

Alastor curls his digits inside again and again, your orgasm building quickly like a fuse that has just been lit. This entire time, his hand on your throat never left you, the only variant being the amount of pressure applied. He’s actively choking you now.

“No other fear can make tears of pleasure spill from your eyes. No other fear coaxes an orgasm so quick and ravishing out of you, you will be limp when it’s done”

One finger rubs your clit, hard and fast, aiding his pumping

“Because the only fear that matters is the one you feel for me, the one I inflict, the one I soothe. Your fear is mine, like the rest of you. Mine to fuck, mine to torment, mine to adore, mine to consume”

and like that a thundering orgasm ripples from your core, you scream so loud you are sure your voice is scratching the walls. Your hips buckle and trash riding the waves of pleasure, another tentacle appears to make it stay in place, gripping you like a vice while Alastor continues to fuck you with his fingers, mercilessly.

Alastor hands that in public touch you like you are the most delicate crystal sculpture, so delicate he’s afraid you’ll shatter are now undoing you. Judge, jury and executioner Alastor’s hands deliver your sentence as he races to get another blazing hot orgasm out of you at the same time he chokes you. Because you dare you, you fucking dare you be afraid of something other than him, to even think he will let a pathetic example of holiness even touch you. You are the true meaning of sacredness and they will never be worthy of you. Look at what you are doing for him, this entire time, since he lured you into a trap to be his little rut plaything. There aren’t strong enough forcers that will take you from his side, safe and sound as you should be. Fear him, fear his idea of love. Do not fear pitiful displays of morality.

Your walls tighten around Alastor’s fingers and you are off again, without time to breath and ride out your previous orgasm. White hot pleasure blinds you, your weightless body succumbs from all the sensations as you cum again. The radio demon feeds off everything, your blood, your arousal, the smell of your sex and your fear in the air, the proudness he feels of undoing you like this, that you only give this part of yourself to him.

Alastor catches you after you fall back from your high, his tentacles releasing you. He makes sure to lock your arms around his neck, your mind still clouded by orgasmic bliss to care about support. Cradling you tightly and secure, you demon lover pets your hair softly, coating your hair in your own juices, marking you once more.

You can feel movement but you couldn’t care less where you are going, you sigh in content as you make yourself more comfortable in your lover’s embrace.

Suddenly you are carefully laid down on the huge bed, the covers soft and soothing on your spent body. You don’t know how long you spent there, basking on the afterglow, you feel so good, so happy. Alastor really does fuck bad thoughts out of your mind.

You hear your name being called, your name on Alastor’s lips is always something that catches your attention, your siren’s call.

“Pet, we need to talk” you turn on your side to face Alastor, who is also laying sideways on the bed, facing you. He doesn’t look murderous pissed, but he does look unsettled. Did you do something wrong? Oh fuck, you didn’t ask for his permission to cum, but how the fuck could yo-

Alastor seems to connect the dots quicker than you, he laughs, genuinely amused .

“Little doe you did nothing wrong, those orgasms were freely given” his hand comes and twirls a velvety lock of your slick covered hair “we are approaching the end of my rut. Normally I would be relieved. But my needs didn’t dwindle, since I found you, they have only gotten stronger” his casual tone vanishes now, he looks dead serious. The urgency that you felt earlier coming back.

“I need you to understand what that entails. Especially given our current… situation with heaven” You hold your breath at his next words. What’s he going to say? Is he dismissing you cause you are now a liability to him in the upcoming war? Your brain starts snowballing downhill fast. Something also starts inside Alastor’s brain while you stare wide eyed into him, but it isn’t going downhill, it is blazing fire that’s burning his entire soul.

Shame you can’t see that.

you feel like the entire world has stopped turning and is waiting for the words to leave his lips.

“I won’t let you out of my sight and I mean it. I want you at arm’s length all times. I’m not going to go easy on you. Don’t trick yourself thinking this means you will get any reprieve. In fact, I’m going to go harder. I need you to understand your place…” the world starts spinning again, this time at roller coaster speed caused by the intensity of his words. He seems to get lost inside his own thoughts again. Leaving things unsaid or at a pause is not like him at all.

“..I need you to prove you deserve it” you hear the words, not sure if they were meant to be heard, but it doesn’t matter cause something snaps inside him again and he’s on top of you again, caging you inside his legs. His eyes are dangerously close to dials again looking down at you,

you don’t know you will cope beneath the curse of these lover’s eyes, but you are beyond the point of no return.

“I need you to be a good girl for me little doe, more than ever” Alastor is still painfully hard from before, his hands working on his belt.

“Can you do that for me? Be a perfectly good plaything while I finish breaking you?”

there’s nothing in this world Alastor could ask of you that you wouldn’t do with tears in your eyes. You need him to know that.

“I’m yours Alastor, I want all of you, you can make me take everything you got” you wish you could’ve said this louder, with more conviction. But Alastor’s gaze on you is always too overbearing, you can feel your skin burn. So it’s nothing more than a whisper.

Alastor doesn’t miss it.

“You are going to regret asking for that” he snarls. It’s definitely a threat. You are happy with the knowledge Alastor never makes empty threats. You can’t wait to regret it.

With a snap of his fingers your top is gone, you are completely bare under him. You don’t have to process the repercussions, Alator’s cock appears in front of your face.

And it’s big. The term “Monster cock” doesn't begin to cover it. Holy hell.

you obviously have seen his cock before, you’ve spent the better part of your time in hell either touching it or impaled on it. But this is something else. His cock is swollen to a point your two hands together can’t close around it. It’s fucking hot a the touch, tip scarlet red, leaking pre-cum. You are questioning if it’s feasible to have him inside you like that. But you sure as hell gonna try. Your mom didn’t raise no pussy.

You give it a slow pump, trying to figure out the mechanics of it. Alastor hisses at your soft touch. How fucking sensitive is he? How many times is he going to have to fuck you to scratch out that itch-

“Do you understand it now, pet? I need to breed you until you are sore, until all of my seed has filled you to the brim. Until you are so sore you can’t walk without limping and with cum cascading down your luscious tights like a waterfall” You nod in acknowledgment. You get it know, his urgency his primal need to fuck you, breed you at every change, with the additional charge of an impeding war. You are totally, royally, fucked.

“Push those beautiful breasts together for me pet” you do as you’re told pushing your soft boobs together, Alastor puts his swollen cock between them and starts fucking your brests roughly. His cock is so big it still reaches your lips when he’s going back and forth on your boobs. One hand tweaks your left nipple making you yelp.

“Put that pretty mouth of yours to good use” he commands. You wrap your lips around his tip, every time he thrusts forward you are able to get a bit more of him inside.

“Ah, Just like that. What a good little cockslut, those lips were made for my cock. Don’t stop until I tell you to.”

His free hand reaches back for your neglected pussy, he starts to rub your red and already abused clit slowly, teasingly. He continues to thrust the valley of your soft peaks at a merciless pace, you work on him with your tongue swirling around his tip, trying to make up for the lack of space inside your mouth.

Your chest is completely wet from his precum and your saliva

“Oh FUCK. A-a-altastor” a muffled scream escapes from your lips as he enters your pussy. You are definitely cock drunk, but not enough to dismiss the lingering question. If you are sucking his cock, how’s Alastor fucking you? You feel something velvety stretching you and then it clicks.

oh my god. Holy FUCK.

Alastor is fucking you with one of his tentacles, you feel fucking glorious, fucking delirious. It’s actually shameful the amount of times you fantasized about that.

The thrusts on your pussy mirror the ones on the valley of your breasts, the pit of your belly tightens. Your legs are spread apart, two more tentacles holding them open at the edges of the bed.

“Oh you poor thing, I will have to open you up all over again so you can take my cock”

you are reduced to a whimpering mess, sprawled on a silver platter for Alastor as he assaults your body on multiple fronts. You can’t help but try to moan louder and louder at the sensation of his tentacle going even deeper inside your cunt. The texture is foreign, but delicious all the same. It’s impossible to coordinate your movements with everything that’s going on: sucking his cock while he fucks your boobs. Pushing your boobs together as Alastor rubs your clit and his tentacle fucks you. It’s too much. With the engorged head of his cock on your mouth, you choke.

Alastor tsks at your failure, he feels vindicated for taking you to the point of error.

“You’re such a wanton whore. You like the feeling of being thoroughly broken by me so much you can’t even do your fucking job” his hand leaves your clit, his tentacle goes still inside you, the only friction you are getting is the constant thrusting in the valley of your breasts. You struggle your bound legs in protest, trying to lift your hips and force some relief.

No need to say Alastor is fucking pissed. His teeth are bared at you, the static clouding the air around you.

“All you had to do was listen to me. You were warned. I don’t want to hear your pathetic whines” The tentacles holding you open swiftly lift your ass up into the air, curling around your legs like vines. The tentacle penetrating you leaves your tight cunt. You literally cry at the feeling of emptiness. “Like I said, you are pathetic”

Alastor is still on top of you, tittyfucking you like a madman, he holds your head in place so you don’t stop licking his cock while he degrades you.

crack

You feel the familiar feeling of leather hitting the back of your thighs. You again yelp in pleasure-pain. The tentacle that was previously fucking you is now holding the riding crop.

“Did I tell you could stop sucking my cock? Already crying and we didn’t even start!”

crack. crack. crack. The crop lands on both of your cheeks so hard your ass wiggles. It’s impossible not to cry, but you keep working on Alastor’s cock.

“Believe me, I’m gonna give you something to cry about little slut”

crack crack crack crack, two sequential hits on each of your cheeks. He’s true to his promise and is not holding back, hitting you harder than the last time he punished you with the whip.

The pain blossoms red spots on your ass, and ends at your core, making you wetter.

“Keep those tits pushed up and my cock in your mouth as I whip you into submission”

A masterful hard hit lands at your red swollen cunt. It hurts so bad, even so the tongue of the whip is coated with your juices. You are entering the delirious zone where pain equals pleasure. It’s mind numbing and this time you are sure Alastor won’t bother being careful, helping you thread the blurred lines of sweet torture. You got yourself into this situation, you are enduring it. You may be desperate for release, whatever release means at this moment, but you are hellbent on pleasing Alastor.

“I know you are a slut for the pain I inflict on you. Because I’ve tainted this naive doe beyond recognition. But if you cum without my explicit permission you are not cumming for a week. And I’m sure by now you know I won’t make it easy for you”

crack crack crack crack

Alastor’s tentacle alternates between your cheeks and your tights. Your orgasm is building, the pain of the previous overstimulation adding to the pain of the whip and the sound of his voice. Alastor always wanted to make you cum from pain and the sound of his voice alone anyway. He keeps furiously fucking your tits, his cock so sensitive your soft breasts grant him sweet relief, still he feels like there’s an impossible itch he needs to scratch, so he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop pinching your nipples painfully, deliciously hard, he doesn’t stop with the whip. Your entire chest is dripping from the amount of precum his cock is leaking, the wet sounds from the friction an obscene simphony.

“It’s a rather simple choice really. Be a good girl for me, like you promised or face the consequences of your desperate, whorish actions. So unlike the good girl I know you can be”

crack crack crack the leather tongue hits your cunt again and again and again. Tears stream down your face, it takes every fiber of your being not to cum, not to choke on the Radio Demon’s thick cock. You’re completely pushed beyond your limits, what holds you together right now is sheer force of will, sheer desire to please your demon lover.

Alastor notices that,and his hand returns to your red, abused clit. It feels like fucking salvation. He keeps his movements soft and gentle, the complete opposite of how he’s handling the rest of your body.

Your legs begin to shake from the amount of whips, your cunt that lovely shade of scarlet from the overstimulation.The tentacles holding you ass up gripping you even tighter for support. You shut your eyes and concentrate harder. The lack of visual stimulation making your mind clearer but making you feel everything more at the same time, like it’s even possible.

You don’t see how Alastor throws his head back and also shuts his eyes, he’s getting close, frantically tittyfucking you searching for his own release. The sounds you make from his sinful torture, the way he can taste your fear in the midst of the your completely skewed sense of pleasure only spurring him on over the edge.

As sweet as the idea of making you cum from pain and his voice is, he still has a goal, he still has to open you up to take his rut-swollen cock at some point. You’re so wet now, breaking you in will feel glorious. Unfortunately, Alastor never half assess a project. With a sigh he makes sure to land a final masterfully painful hit on your cunt he knows you will love.

Another time, then.

As quick as the whip lands it goes away, that same tentacle enters you in one swift motion, getting deeper and deeper from the position of your hips. You shot your eyes open at the intrusion, everything feels like delirious bliss right now.

Alastor’s cock tittyfucking you, head on your lips, Alastor’s tentacle fucking your tight hot cunt, Alastor’s finger rubbing your clit at a maddening pace. Alastor, Alastor, Alastor.

That’s all you can think, that’s all you are allowed to feel. You are on the edge of glory, all you need is a push.

“Good Girl. What a perfect little plaything you are. You will feel this for days, I’ll make sure you never forget a thing! Come now sweet doe, come undone for your wicked master, let me see how good I can make you feel”

To say this orgasm hits ravishingly hard an understatement. Back arching, eyes rolling back, your skin burns with white hot pleasure. Alastor finds his piece of paradise a second after you, the delightful friction on your soft breasts, your velvety lips on his cock,already building an overwhelming orgasm but it’s your walls clamping on his tentacle that send him right over the edge. Your ride your waves of pleasure oblivious to your demon lover’s own undoing, all consumed with the feeling of Alastor you don’t even realize how the Radio Demon is also completely taken by the orgasm your body granted him. Only you could get him pumping so much cum your skin glistens like you’re bathed in stardust. You actually feel like a star, burning brighter than the sun, pieces of yourself shattering all over the alluring darkness of Alastor’s universe.

The bed shakes with the sheer force of the shared pleasure between you two, your head hits a soft pillow, legs still shaking and tingling, Alastor still on top of you, bathing you in his cum.

You wake up from what seemed to be a fever dream, your body light as a feather (and maybe stiff as a board? wasn’t that a demonic think back on earth? It would make sense if that’s the case cause you’ve been fucking a demon like it’s your daily dose of vitamins)

What’s also starting to make sense is the fact that you’re shinning with the Radio Demon.

You’re feeding off each other’s horniness, it’s the only possible explanation to why even though you’ve been thoroughly fucked by him a couple hours ago, you feel so fucking horny again. A quick look in the mirror empirically proves your theory: You are completely, completely covered in Alastor cum. There’s cum on your hair, your chest fucking glitters like a tiffany diamond from the translucid liquid. You twirl in front of the room’s huge mirror. It’s definitely an antique piece from earth, which makes you wonder how Alastor got it down here.

You wonder a lot about Alastor, big things like “How’s he so powerful, What does he fear? What is his endgame helping this hotel anyway? What’s the deal with his deal?” But the mystery of the Radio Demon is also made of small things like “If he hates tvs, he must AirFryer’s archenemy”, “What’s his stance on the current podcast craze?” “Is he aware of the fact that mankind landed on the moon or that the USSR no longer exists?”

Your detective moment is cut short when the sight on the mirror proves your theory yet again: your backside is covered in a painting of bruises, reds and blues mix together like the hurried stroke of an impressionist artist. Your legs are also a work of art, the bruises swirl up towards your cunt, a delicious reminder of how his tentacles held you in place while he fucked you, while he punished you. All of that topped off with a shimmering coat of Alastor’s obscene quantity of cum, that catches the light like the crystals of a beautiful Versailles’ chandelier. Your body a masterpiece of sheer lust and carnality.

See, you’re getting wet again at the sight of what Alastor did to you. Clearly shinning with the Radio Demon.

Maybe you’re getting a powertrip from knowing you are the only one Alastor will let bear his marks like this, cause you across the room twirling and giggling, dancing to the sound of your soft laughs. You’re just so… happy, content, safe.

A note on top of the huge vintage vanity catches your eye. Red stationary written with perfect penmanship

“My dearest, I stayed by your side while the afterglow of my sweet torture sent you off to dreamland, but unfortunately duty calls and I ought to answer.

I should be back soon, as the loss of your warm body next to mine already plagues my mind.

While I’m away, please allow me to haunt your thoughts with these sweet treats I know you love.

Relax, rest and recover. Take a stroll in the woods, feel the fresh air on your velvet skin. I’m sure you will find the breeze soothing.

PS: Do not go further inside those woods. I’m in no mood to hunt you down.

Yours Always, Alastor.”

You finish reading his note, a deep blush on your cheeks. The princess treatment Alastor gives you always makes you feel like walking on air. And that’s the cue for a silver tray appearing on top of the vanity.

That sneaky bastard.

It’s filled with your favorite sweet treats: brownies, chocolate pastries, chocolate covered strawberries, macaroons… The food is filling and nourishing after your previous physical escapades. You feel instantly energized. Maybe there’s magic on it too?

You do as you are told, and go take a stroll into Alastor’s woods, taking some chocolate covered strawberries with you. The grass beneath your feet feels really nice, the breeze is

more soothing than you imagined. The way the moonlight illuminates the place is beautiful and otherworldly. Keeping close to the trail where green meets fancy flooring, your mind

dives deep into Alastor thoughts again. Butt naked inside his woods, completely marked by him you feel like a goddess, like a sacrifice.

The naive town’s beauty was left on the woods to appease its wicked god. That’s what you feel destiny has led you since you arrived in Hell.

You lay down on the soft swamp grass letting your mind race with the possibility of being hunted down by Alastor like sacrificial prey. You are hot and bothered all over again, coil tightening on your lower belly. You feel bewitched by the woods and its alluring promise of danger.

Danger at Alastor hands, always the sweetest type of danger. Arousal takes you by storm and before you know you are spreading your legs and touching your pussy.

You know you shouldn’t do this, nonetheless you do it. The eerie atmosphere created by the place, your partner in crime. You are still filled with Alastor’s cum, there’s so much of it walking around wasn’t enough for it to cascade down your leg, a sinful reminder of who you belong to. You smear the cum all over your tight hole, picturing Alastor’s huge huge cock filling you up to the brim. There’s no denying these woods feel haunted by Alastor, your moans seem to start a choir of other moans from deeper inside the woods. Almost like the others sacrifices before you are welcoming you, aiding you in ritualistic performance to attract your wicked demon lover. You can’t know if your delusions are true, if the voices from the other girls he’d taken and left haunted sing alongside you or if it is just your own cries of pleasure scratching the trees and reverberating throughout the woods.

You just know it feels forbidden, dangerous, and creepy, so of course it feels magnificent.

Rubbing your pussy harder, you try to mimic his touch, but it’s no use. Alastor’s masterful hands are incomparable, your tiny slender fingers far from a worthy opponent. You are sure it’s on purpose, so you can never make yourself cum like he does, to keep you addicted to him. About cumming, the nature of your crime crosses your mind again, yes you are not supposed to cum without explicit permission, yes if he finds out he won’t be gentle about it. You’ve got enough on your plate with the end of his rut and the previous punishment already. You shouldn’t seek any more trouble, but you just can’t. help. it.

You are just seeking some type of relief, you’re not planning to cum. There’s no crime in that right? It’s not like you can make yourself cum without Alastor’s these days anyway..;

You fulfill Alastor’s requests and allow him to haunt your mind as you keep touching yourself, torturing yourself with the sentence of no release. It’s not a matter of allowance really, Alastor always haunts you: your mind, your body, your dreams, everywhere that you go in the house of the damned screams his name. Alastor, Alastor, Alastor overlord of Hell, king of your heart, body and…soul? He definitely marked your soul, there’s no denying that, but he doesn’t own it. Your deepest desires flirt with this, with your complete surrender to the Radio Demon. A reality where he owns you, the very essence of your being through and through. As much as the possibility entices you, you also feel ashamed. Not by the owning per se, but by the fact you don’t feel like Alastor would take this deal. He’s above petty and frivolous deals, and you don’t have much to offer him. Maybe he would hate the idea of being tied up to you like that, and rejection will literally feel like death. So you keep that desire hidden.

What’s not hidden by any means, is the show you are putting on Alastor’s woods: legs spread open while you play with you cum filled pussy, soft ooooh and aaaaahs as you dive deeper into guilty pleasure.

“Oh, dear.”

“Oh, fuck” you say out loud as soon as you see Alastor opening the door. Yup you’re caught in the act. Did you really think you wouldn't get caught? The reality of your actions come crashing down. You look at Alastor across the room. He has a bouquet of flowers in his hand and an extremely cocking grin.

Did you really fuck up a romantic night?

Alastor walks across the room, towards you. The first thing he does when he reaches you is to manhandle you into a sitting position, pinning your hands behind your back. He crouches to your level, but still towers over you.

“Even if I didn't catch you getting busy with these tiny hands in my absence did you really think I wouldn’t find out?” he grips your hands tighter “You’re smarter than that, pet. I know you are”

“I’m sorry Al-” “One might even think you wanted to get caught, hmm. Lying naked in my forest like a forbidden, enticing offering. What a sight you are my dear! Truly bewitching!”

You open your mouth to explain, but Alastor shushes you. “Hush now pet. Contrary to popular belief I can be merciful. I did promise, quite fiercely, that I wouldn’t let you out of my sight, and yet I left my pretty little pet unattended for many, many hours. How lost and confused you must be” capital C condescension drips from his lips like the sweetest ambrosia. “Now, we must find a compromise. I told you I wouldn’t give you any reprieve and I intend to be true to my word. What are my word’s worth if I don’t keep it? What would people think if they knew I let my pretty little plaything pet go without any punishment after a transgression? his usual upbeat voice starts judging your gentle sin. You could hear him talk for days, so you don’t mind.

“Tell me darling doe, what are the extension of your transgressions? Did you cum? Or were you just completely taken with your desire for me, all alone, that all you wanted was to just torture yourself until I was back to grant you permission, hmmmm? He tilts your chin up with his microphone, so you are eye level with him. Confessing your sins while he stares into your soul. “I didn’t cum Alastor, I didn’t even plan to cum. I just wanted some relief while you were gone”

“And relief you will get” your eyes light up at the expectancy of cumming soon “I can tell you’re not lying. I know those doe eyes all too well. I will uphold my side of the bargain and grant you dazzling pleasure” he snaps his fingers and you are dressed again. “buuuuuuut first” he says in a sing-song voice “you will be punished, after all you did break the first rule. Your pleasure is mine, before it is yours. There’s no plausible deniability here”

“Now up you go!” he lifts you up and takes your hand in his “we have a lot of work to do!”

You are completely unaware where Alastor is taking you. He wants it this way. Another way for him to assert his dominance over you.

The feeling of conquest the Radio Demon felt when he found a few minutes ago rivals the one he felt when conquered his first territory as a Hell’s overlord: sublime, glorious. Fast, rough. A power trip. Like the feeling you get when you are the first to cross the finish line, when you just looked death in the eye and came out unscratched.

You looked like Victory Incarnate.

You. all hot and bothered, naked on his forest, magical moonlight making you glisten like a diamond, all from his cum; You. And your pitiful attempts to mimic his masterful touch while spreading his cum all over your abused cunt. You, completely delirious and consumed by the dark machinations of his forest, presented to him like a sacrificial offering. You, who was so beautifully lured into his trap once again.

Alastor is a conniving, cruel, calculating man. Of course this was one of his carefully constructed schemes, he made sure his magic would lure you to the forest, he made sure inside his domain everything would make you completely surrender to him. The sounds, the ground, the breeze and the moonlight. Together to destroy your conviction, to make you break your sanctified oath to him, just so he could catch you and torment you for affirmation of the same holy vow. Like he is your god. All powerful, all knowing, all consuming.

Of course he entered the room in the exact time that conviction was about to become heretic transgression. Of course he was holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers just to make you feel even more guilty. More committed to get his approval, his forgiveness. More susceptible to his depraved ways of torture.

Even his mercy was paradoxically merciless. Because what Alastor is feeling, the blazing hot red fire inside him burning his path towards you, is something he’s scared to admit to himself. So he will make you prove your love first, to the point of irrevocable surrender and unbreakable devotion. He wants, he needs your soul. But he’s not asking for it, he’s not proposing any deals. He will make you give it to him out of your own volition, he will make you lay yourself at his feet.

He will not lower his guard first.

You both reach your destination: the Radio Tower. On your way here you notice your newly magiced clothes, a flowy white dress, with an open back and a plunging neckline. Alastor gave you new jewelry too, a pair of beautiful intricate anklets and a simple diamond choker. Alastor didn’t clean you up, you're still covered on his cum inside and out. Smelling like sex and him, for all hell to witness. He holds the door open, you enter first. You hear the door locking behind you.

The Radio demon seats himself in front of his dashboard, flicking all sorts of switches and buttons, preparing to start a broadcast.

“What are you waiting for pet? get under the table,right now” he orders you nonchalantly.

Squealing, you hurry to get under his table as fast as you can. You look up to him, beautiful, big doe eyes swimming in a hopeful gaze. But he doesn’t look at you, in fact he seems to entirely ignore your existence, carrying on with his routine like he always does. You feel lost, until you hear his voice.

“I’m going on Air, this broadcast is not going to be pleasant. I need your undivided attention: don’t stop touching my cock. Be my little cockslut, sucking and pumping it while your master works. Behave like a good girl and you will be rewarded. Fail and suffer the consequences. It’s simple. Are we understood?” his tone is cold, instructional. He’s ordering and you are going to obey. He looks down at you for a literal second to confirm your sweet disposition and goes back to work. “Don’t forget where you belong”

The dashboard goes up in lights, the broadcast is starting.

The race is on.

“Welcome ladies and gentleman! I hope you are all seated, cause today what I have for you is definitely not for the faint of heart”

A hand guides you to the monster cock that appears in front of you without any warning.

You don’t waste a second, wrapping your lips around his swollen head and giving your best efforts with your hands as you pump the imposing girth and length of his member.

“It was brought to my attention that some sinners have been spreading and corroborating nasty rumors about me” Alastor slowly fucks your face

“I think this calls for a lesson! I’ve been gone, that's true. But I'm back now! And you should all remember your place” you don’t need to see his face to know his eyes are burning radio dials, the suffocating static picks up around the room. But you can breathe easily, nonetheless.

“Haha! This is going to be fun!”

Alastor starts slow, naming each and everyone of the sinners that participated on Vox’s pathetic attempts of character assassination he has been airing daily. You hear the first of the screams.

You’ve never been so scared in your entire life.

The demon you learned to love has a raging boner from the torture, from his rut and from being worked on by you. You feel giddy with that knowledge, but you don’t let anything shatter your perfect composure. You will make Alastor proud.

Alastor is relishing on the screams, on the smell of your fear as he fucks your face while he torture his enemies.

To be fair, after a few minutes all you could hear was soothing radio white noise. Aside from Alastor’s interventions you didn’t hear a thing. He had gotten his point across clearly, he didn’t want you hearing anymore of that. You were his precious treasure after all, and he would coax fear out of you in other ways.

You don’t know how long his broadcast has been on, you 100% focused on the task you’re assigned, suck suck suck, pump pump pump. If your jaw gets too sore you double your efforts with each flick of your wrist. When your arm’s muscles are burning from the effort, back in your mouth Alastor’s cock goes. Sometimes, during what you guess is an exceptionally awful moment for him, he grabs fistfuls of your head and keeps bobbing your head on his length. Most times, he leaves you to proceed at your leisure.

You would be lying if you said being just a cockwarmer under the table while your demon lover gets a power trip isn’t the one of the most arousing types of degradation you’ve experienced. You are dripping wet, your slick mixing with the cum that’s still there.

Hot.

But you are adamant on ignoring your neglected pussy that is throbbing with desire now, this is about Alastor, and you are doing this for him.

You’re guessing Alastor is done with his list of sinners now, he is going back and forth directly with vox for a while now. This banter, he lets you listen and you enjoy it, Vox is making a fool of himself as always.

Suddenly one of his tentacles comes down and enters you, Alastor chokes you on his cock as it happens. Don’t make a sound

The tentacle opens you up mercilessly, at a madman’s pace. It is pumping in and out of your already dripping wet cunt getting deeper and deeper, readying you for the real thing. You learn from your past mistakes and keep a hand on Alastor at all times, when the sensation gets too much, you swallow a good amount of his abundant pre-cum. It works as an aphrodisiac on you, you are drunk on it. You’re the image of cock drunk.

“Good luck selling those Voxtech’s angel safety trinkets now. I’m on your entire streaming network” Alastor unceremoniously picks you up and sits you on his cock, impaling you at once.

You don’t dare to make a sound, you bite your lip strong enough to draw blood from holding back the sounds you want to make.

On his lap, you get a good view of the action. Alastor's demon form is very much present, he’s taunting Vox live, invading the obnoxious tv set’s channels. He’s totally high from the power trip of this broadcast, and forces you down on his cock stretching your walls even more, but it’s still not enough. Tantalizing inch after tantalizing inch enters your cunt but there’s still a good 4 and a half inches to go. You can’t move, you can’t speak. A single movement could make you lose control, especially with his tip twitching like that. You hide yourself on his chest, limiting the amount of stimuli will keep you focused.

Alastor keeps paying you no mind

“You’re so weak it took me no effort at all to track down every dumb enough sinner who helped you. I broke them down, they told me everything. You can’t cover your tracks, you can’t keep the help from breaking down. You are a pathetic excuse of an Overlord, the weakest link between your comrades. And a even more deplorable excuse of a demon”

He acts like you are just an accessory, an adornment, an object. You’re just his cocksleeve, warming his cock while he works, motionless and speechless, because that’s where you belong.

It’s hard to forget your place when Alastor proves his point eloquently without saying a word.

“You better run, go and hide behind Velvette’s skirt. Show the entire hell the coward you are. You better hurry, because I. Am. Coming. For You”. A deafening sound of static fills the room and all the tv’s on pentagram city glitch and break down. Some spontaneity combust, some explode. Hell won’t forget this display of power for a long time. You hear the broadcast disconnecting.

One of Alastor's hands starts assaulting your clit without any care. The other hand snaps its fingers.

“It’s time to open your eyes now, little doe” his voice is maniac, on the edge of pure untamed insanity. You have no choice but to obey. You want to obey. So your eyes fly open. That sight that greets your vision is so erotic you could cum from perceiving it alone.

There’s a mirror in front of you, the same vintage mirror from Alastor’s place. You stare at is reflection:

Alastor is in all of his demonform glory, his eyes burning red dials, his teeth sharp and threatening, his antlers touch the ceiling, he is baring his teeth and his breath is completely ragged.

And you. Oh fuck you.

Tears spill from your eyes, there’s mascara staining your under eyes and your cheeks. Your body is flush against alastor’s as you straddle his lap. And your pussy. Holy hell, your pussy is pure scarlet, swollen and abused. You are impaled on Alastor’s cock, your belly bulging, your pussy impossibly stretched. And there’s still a third of his cock left till balls deep.

You’re being broken into submission. There’s no way you are walking anytime soon after this.

“Do you like what you see,slut? You are being split open by your master. I can feel your cunt fluttering at the sight of you being impaled on the Radio Demon’s cock”

He slaps you, hard. Your ass wiggles from the impact and you watch the mirror as you slowly ride him. His hard cock glistens with your slick as you go up, your pussy swallows another inch,

disappearing inside your tight heat.

Your lack of response makes Alastor pinch your clit, You yelp and struggle, the friction making you delirious.

“When I ask you a question you answer, girl. My patience is wearing thin”

“fuck Alastor, i fucking love it. Please don’t stop this. I feel hollow without your cock inside me. Break me, ruin me, i don’t care. just don’t stop”

“You are really going to regret that” alastor snarls dangerously, truly dangerously

There’s no describing what you are feeling, your walls are stinging at the impossible intrusion. Alastor locks an arm around your waist. You look like a ragdoll on top of him, your limbs going numb from pain, from pleasure. From built up overstimulation and delayed gratification at the same time. He starts thrusting inside of you slowly, trying to break you in even more. The painting of bruises from earlier is growing, blacks, reds and blue blossom your skin like reminders of deliciously sin.

You’re truly sobbing now, your sobs followed by moans. You try to run away from the sensations, it’s too fucking much. Alastor makes sure you know your place with a vice like grip on your body. Your reflection on the mirror adds up to the wicked delight: up, the monster cock’s angry red tip appears, down, Alastor’s cock glistening from your cream disappears inside your pussy, as much as your pussy can take it, it’s too big, it’s impossible to fit. You feel it hitting your cervix.

“Wanton whore, creaming while I break you. Crying while I fuck you. These tears are from the pleasure you feel as I hurt you. As I breed and ruin you for my pleasure only”

he keeps rubbing your clit, merciless now. Alastor takes you completely off his cock and slams you down roughly, your pussy is making obscene sounds from how wet it is, and still you feel sweet sweet pain.

“Watch while I fuck and destroy you, don’t you dare take your eyes off this mirror”

Alastor is thrusting hard and fast inside you now. The pleasure you are feeling right now is ineffable. Aftershocks from the way Alastor is slamming inside you making your legs shake.

“This reflection is exactly what you are. A desperate slut, willing to do anything to please the Radio Demon. Cunt scarlet from the second punishment you are getting today. Punishment you desperately wanted, you ruined yourself, your commitment to me just so you could be fucked into submission”

You feel like you are going to pass out from sheer pleasure, from wicked and delicious pain. Your vision starts to blurry. But you’re hellbent on being a good girl and just taking it. Alastor keeps fucking you to his hearts contents.

You’re past the blurred lines of pain and pleasure, you entered a zone that you are not sure existed before this. Only by the wicked and talented hands of a torturer like Alastor you are able to find ineffable pleasure like this. You are the only one that got to this point, the only one who will ever feel it.

Desperate cries leave your lips in supplication for mercy. It’s futile, you know Alastor’s mercy is paradoxical.

“I think you're ready now” you hear him say. Your world spins and everything goes black for a bit

Your body feels weightless, wrapped around in Alastor’s comfortable darkness. The darkness of his shadows is soothing, like balm on your abused skin.

You’re being manhandled by what, you’re not sure. Alastor’s hands? Alastor’s shadows? Alastor’s tentacles? you don’t care, you crave it. It feels like falling from heaven because you discovered something you should not.

Complete surrender to Alastor feels sacred, holy. The forbidden fruit that you searched for all your life.

Your anklets lock, intertwined threads binding your legs up and together, your wrists are bound behind your back, and the alluring darkness leaves you on top of the Radio Tower’s dashboard. Wrapped up like a gift, layed down like a sacrifice.

You hear Alastor saying your name like a siren’s call. The entire room is lit up by an eerie green light.

You look just perfect, like Alastor’s wildest dreams. Propped up on your belly with your bruised ass up and bound like a true feast on top of his radio dashboard, facing hell’s barren red horizon.

And it is this barren red land that we will make witness for your complete consumption, your complete surrender to him.

“Tell me, my precious doe, how far are you willing to go for me? for my attention? for my adoration?” you stare into burning red eyes, your collection of colorful bruises burning as you bear the weight of these lover’s eyes.

“anything Al, for you, anything”

“Then. Prove. It.”

static fills the room and Alastor enters your tight wet cunt once again. He’s fucking from behind you at breakneck speed, your moans spilling freely from your mouth.

Unholy pleasure. That’s what you feel.

Alastor flips you over, all of your binds shatter upon impact, he’s on top of you know.

It’s time to claim this luscious, salacious sacrifice.

He doesn’t stop thrusting for a second, but his cock still isn’t all the way in. You want to be truly impaled by him so fucking bad. The desperate wish of an insane woman.

“Are you mine pet? Will you let me make you bleed just so I can drink it and satisfy my urges?”

“Please Alastor, make me fucking bleed for you”

He doesn’t wait another second, biting down on your neck, hard. It hurts, it feels glorious.

Sucking on the wound he get’s is cock all the way out, and inside again all at once. Still not all the way in though.

“I need to know, are you mine? Truly mine? Will you let me take you pain and pleasure. All consuming? A sacred and holy promise of your devotion?”

“yes YES yes yes. I’m yours, do anything you want to me, I don’t care as long as it makes you happy”

“Still not enough” he punctuates his dissatisfaction with sharp thrust

Alastor kisses you, a searing kiss that starts on your lips and ends on your soul. You taste the blood you spilled for him on your lips. A dark gift that makes you delirious.

Alastor need you to understand, his primal need to mark you, own you , he needs you to understand that he needs your soul, immutable ownership as he takes your purity, your holiness and taints it with his darkness.

So he finally buries himself inside you to the hilt.

You scream, you break apart. Pain and pleasure overrides your brain. You can’t discern anything beyond Alastor’s cock fucking you, marking you, claming you.

“I will ask again. Are you mine pet? Time’s running out” Time is running out because he’s gonna spill the finality of his rut soon inside you, and if you don’t freely give your soul to him it will be all in vain. It will be the worst type of betrayal. Can’t you see you belong with him. Under him, by his side. But to him. He’s a cold man, but he has shown you time and time again how much he needs you, what your place is.

“I’m yours Alastor, you own me, my heart, my body, my soul. Please take it. Take my soul, I’m begging you here Al. I want to be irrevocably yours, to make my devotion duty”

Alastor roars in conquest, frantically thrusting into you all carnality and primal need.

You feel your green chains attach to your diamond choker. They shimmer and glitter, your soul officially mixing with his magic.

Alastor finally feels your heavenly soul , your sacredness being tainted by his darkness. He finally owns you. It drives him insane, he truly knows now what insanity means.

Your fall from grace happens quickly after that. If doomsday is coming to Hell, Alastors is your rapture. All you want to do is to lose yourself in the feeling of your dark salvation’s cock. All carnal pain. Righteous torture.

Alastor gets your hands to his antlers, you feel the velvet shedding marking the end of a successful rut. You moan in glory, fucking finally you get to touch them. You rub them mercilessly, mirroring his movements on your clit. His blood starts running down your hands, and you don’t resist the temptation to taste it. He moans at the sight of your blood on his lips, his blood on yours. His lips come crashing down on yours, your blood and saliva mixing together as you both drink from this unholy grail.

There will be elegies sung about you. About how far gone you where when you laid your heart at a false god’s feet. Making him own you. Making him ruin you. The girl who was warned and still succumbed by a skewed promise of salvation.

But there’s nothing false about what Alastor’s promises you. As he tugs on the chains the bind your soul to his, he confesses.

“I don’t offer you shallow poems or delicate flowers. I offer you bruising pleasure and alluring darkness. I don’t make empty promises of innocent love and breakble devotion. For when I love, I love with insanity, all consuming. My love is not comfortable, my love sometimes will not be gentle. But I promise you this, you will never walk alone, I will never leave you. I will remind you time and time again what’s like being loved by the Radio Demon, with ravishing pain and maddening pleasure. My love is ownership, is irrevocable surrender. And now my love is yours”

You take this confession as permission and you’re off. The most carnal orgasm of your life. Your legs shake, Alastor’s name on your lips as you pray to the demon god who owns you. Your legs shake, your back arch. Your skin burns from Alastor’s magic sinking deep into your soul. It’s so unlike anything you ever felt. You feel complexion, you feel belonging. You feel pure powerful lust.

“Yes my darling love, cum all over the cock of the demon who owns your soul”

Your walls come crashing down, tightening impossibly around that snug fit of his swollen cock inside your divine cunt. Alastor is out like a light too.

He finally empties himself inside you, an ungodly amount of his seed making your belly bulge.

You are both spent, cacophony of moans as you come down from the ineffable high together.

There’s no angel army appearing on Hell’s sky as Alastor finalizes his deal with you. He takes the blood you both spilled together and turns it into a red heart shaped, blood diamond pendant. You will carry the signs of his love proudly on your neck now, for all hell and heaven to witness: you are the Radio Demon’s only love. Eternal and final. Your holiness, now officially tainted by his dark gift. What a sappy romantic.

You both lay there. Basking in the well deserved afterglow. Alastor is still emptying himself inside you. He will take sometimes letting go of this sweet, primal carnality.

Alastor starts laughing, elation overcomes him.

“What is it Al?” you ask him. You are both high from each other, so you are all giggles too.

“One never knows what their surrender will feel like until it happens. My defenses are completely lowered for you. I never thought it would feel like this for me. I never thought I would be capable of love ” He pecks your cheeks, your lips, your face, your forehead. Like a schoolboy with a crush.

“So you truly love me, then? This is real” emotion overcomes you and you are crying for the third time today. But you tears now are from pure bliss.

Alastor turns to face you, to truly look inside your eyes for the first time since it all went down. His hand push your matted hair from blood, cum and sweat away from your face.

“Of course I do, my dearest. Believe me, if my love for you wasn’t this blazing fire that burns inside me, you’d never gone this long by my side. You are the only woman who has this. You are the only woman who will ever have this. My love for you is unconditional, binding and final.” he says, staring deep at your soul. The soul he owns now.

you cry hard, Alastor just holds you close and dry your tears.

“When I was alive, I always prayed to give an Angel my soul to keep. I’m happy it’s yours now”

Alastor laughter fills the room.

“Don’t deceive yourself darling. I’m no Angel of Light, nor will I ever be. I’m afraid your soul is stuck with the wicked Radio Demon now. But I vow to treasure it with all my blacked, cruel heart. That beats love only for you”

You buried yourself deep inside Alastor’s chest. You both stay silent, pondering how your lives are forever changed now.

“I will never let you forget how much I love you, darling doe. I will make you remember when doubt consumes you. Fret not. But the reminder will be by wicked ways of course”

“I don’t care Al. I just know I fucking love you. And to be loved is to be changed”

Together, inside that RadioTower, you two are the second coming of the Garden of Eden. Dark paradise in Hell. Right there where you consummate your love for each other, is Holy ground.

And all of Hell will tell the tale of this girl, they will say how “She's gone too far this time”, and was completely taken away by the Radio Demon. A cautionary tale.

A love story.

#🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼#i’m just a girl #꩜ recs.#꩜ ily.#꩜ nsfw.#꩜ reblogs.

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jesi555 · 2 months

Text

"INTERMISSION" - ALASTOR X READER

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Tags: ,18+, Smut, NSFW, edging, BDSM, Alastor does what he wants, there's plot if you squint really hard, alastor in heat, breeding kink, Possesive! Alastor, Jealous!Alastor, Protective!Alastor, masturbation, I didn't proof read this, english isn't my first language, no beta we die like men here, etc etc etC

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

A/N: Hello,hello everyone! Again, thank you all so much for the amazing reception to "Good things come for those who wait". I'm truly touched by your words and praise. I never really tought my writing would see the light of day at this point, nor this much love. My biggest thanks to everyone who takes the time to leave a comment.

So, I'm a bit self concious about this piece. "Intermission" is supossed to be a light break from the previous two fics. A breath of fresh, sex smelling air as I write the next long chapter. (It's gonna be nasty). My intent with this fic was to make it kinda chaotic, kinda rushed like Alastor's mind would be as he masturbates himself at the thought of you and what you are doing to him.

I truly hope I can do your hopes and expectations for my writting justice. I really appreciate feedback on this one.

As always, my special thanks goe to my lovely friend @smallershorteranduncut, who always support my ideas. Te amo amiga <3

Taglist: @markster666 @jyoongim @stygianoir @pepperycookie @fraspent @aether-th3-enby @lady-valtieri . If the tags aren't working or you wanna be tagged, let me know.

PART I | PART II

Alastor considered himself a smart man, a cunning, self-sufficient, resourceful man. So, naturally, the irony of him being locked inside the bathroom, his cock in his hands while he tortures himself with thoughts of you made him frustrated at best, murderous at worst.

He hates everything about it, he hates to admit that his rut indeed makes him on edge and out of control, he hates to admit that before he met you the ways he dealt with his rut were… undignified. And he hates even more admitting that since he had you at his every whim, to fuck, to breed, to inflict the most depraved ways of torture his rut was becoming a pleasurable thing. All because of you, only because of you.

He had quite literally just fucked you so hard you passed out, his name a scream on your lips, so loud heaven might have heard it. Some part of Alastor wishes that heaven heard it, so they know they made a mistake, so they know they let one of the most sacred things to exist get down here. In hell, with him. Your heavenly body is his to do as he pleases, to break it, desecrate its holiness as he fucks you into submission, granting him a relief so pure, so all consuming that it shouldn’t even be allowed in hell. And they will never correct this mistake.

Some part of Alastor wishes no know never knew about how you always make a mess of yourself for him, how you gladly sprawl yourself open for him, eyes lustful and hopeful that if you let him take it out just a little more on you tonight he will send you over the edge with those two little words: good. girl.

And what a perfect good girl you were, doe eyes always seeking for his across any room, with adoration, with barely hidden lust, with love. Such a contrast when compared to his eyes, burning red from desire, anger, lack of empathy. Red condescending eyes filled with excitement about what he is going to do to you, what he is making you endure for him.

It doesn’t make it any easier on Alastor’s painfully hard cock that you are sleeping just a door away after a rough fuck, his seed still coating your thighs.

He flicks his wrist up and down his shaft, slowly.

Just as slow as how his cock stretched your tight cunt, inch by inch when he first took you. You weren’t nearly as wet as you should be for the first time taking his cock but you darling thing decided to break one of his rules. Your legs desperately spreading in a futile attempt to accommodate him, the delicious fear in your eyes as you realized what you’ve gotten yourself into, completely at his mercy, enduring the pain of being broken by his monster cock. The scream you let out when he buried himself to the hilt inside you, you liked it even when it was hurting, because the pain Alastor inflicted on you was ten times better than any pleasure your silly mortal lovers had ever given you.

The Radio Demon has a knuckle white grip on his cock now, even with hands as big as his, Alastor is having trouble fully closing his hand around the swollen member, his need to claim, to mark, to breed you strong as ever. Precum leaks for the engorged red tip and a hiss escapes his lips, the feeling of powerlessness consuming him in waves of a maddening, unprecedented carnality. The only thing the mighty demon overlord can do to mimic the divine feeling of your cunt being spreading the glossy drop around his overly sensitive tip, grip his cock even tighter as he strokes himself harder and faster, like a maniac.

How the mighty have fallen, he thinks to himself, he’s completely cunt struck by you.

Naturally, he’s gonna make you pay for it.

Alastor fucks himself fast and hard, trying to pic up the breakneck speed he usually does when he’s burying himself inside your heat, his grip sometimes painful. Exactly how the way he wants to be next time he fucks you.

The raw carnality consuming him is too overbearing, so overbearing he closes his burning red eyes as his brain process the severity of his situation: he found the perfect plaything, a deliciously submissive doe for him to breed until she’s numb with the feeling of his cock thrusting into her, completely filled up by his seed. It made his rut more bearable, it made his rut pleasurable, everytime he needed to scratch that primal need you’re always there, always ready to completely submit to him, to completely ruin yourself for him. Alastor honestly thought having you always there, as fun as it was to toy with you that way, would make things better. But it actually made it worse. Because now he knows.

Oh fuck, now he knows.

More pre cum spills, running through Alastor’s claws, dripping and staining his pants, making a mess under him. But it’s not enough, because it will never be enough. It’s not your mess coating his cock, running through his claws, it’s not the sinful invitation of your wetness staining his clothes.

Realization hits him like a curse.

His wrist flicks around his cock with a purpose: to find relief in pain.

You’re the only thing he wants. You are the only woman he will ever want like that. You are the only one he wants to see the obscene amount of his seed dripping from a perfectly swollen red cunt. You are the only one who could possibly deserve this. Now he knows what it is like to feel, to want someone. To have an irrevocable connection. No one in heaven, hell, and all the other possible realms of creation have the right to even think of you in that way. You are his and that’s final.

Next time he takes you he will make sure you know that.

Stroking himself erratically now, Alastor pictures you peacefully sleeping next door, luscious body sprawled on the bed like you don’t have a care in the world. He wants the first thing you feel when you open your eyes is fear. Good, you should feel scared. You should be very, very scared of what he is going to do to you. He hopes to relish in fear in your eyes as he enters your tight pussy, stretching your velvet walls apart in ways you’ve never felt before. Being obscenely broken to accommodate the girth of his rut swollen cock.

Fear, because you should be scared. Fear because you aren’t. Fear because as the realization that Alastor needs you terrifies him, the realization that you fucking love the pain of being a submissive slut to the Radio Demon will undo you, in unholy ways.

The scene of your ass on his lap, red with regret from his whipping and a symphony of your soft moans overrides his mind. You were sobbing from those little whips? He’s gonna double that. He’s gonna give you something to truly cry about. He’s gonna see you cum from the pain of being whipped into submission and his voice only. Because it is what you deserve for making him feel like this. Because it is what you want.

He’s close now, he can tell. He’s gonna cum soon. And it is not going to be inside your pussy. Alastor is enraged about that.

A clawed hand grips the wall besides him. He strokes himself at a merciless pace. Just as merciless as he is gonna be with you. He knows your body like the palm of the hand that is clawing the wall because of the maddening desire he has for you. He’s gonna lure you so you purposefully make a mistake. Just so you can give him the excuse to punish you into understanding that you are irrevocably his. He’s gonna take all of you as it is his right.

His cock twitches, claws scratch the posh wallpaper all the way down, he spills so much cum, all over his lap, his hand.

The sight of Alastor’s flustered face, in post orgasmic daze after mercilessly touching himself at the thought of you is something you definitely should see. But he will never let you.

Because now his mind is clear, he knows it and delights in acceptance. You are his, his mate, his love.

And he’s gonna take his sweet time torturing you into compliance and understanding. With pain, pleasure and all that is Alastor’s nature.

#yummy yum yum #love this #need him #꩜ recs.#꩜ ily.#꩜ reblogs.#꩜ nsfw.

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jesi555 · 2 months

Text

"Good things come for those who wait" - Alastor x reader fic

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Tags: ,18+, Smut, NSFW, edging, BDSM, Alastor does what he wants, there's plot if you squint really hard, alastor in heat, breeding kink, Possesive! Alastor, Jealous!Alastor, Protective!Alastor, spanking,degradation kink, praise kink, Angst with a happy ending, fluff, I didn't proof read this, english isn't my first language, no beta we die like men here, etc etc etc

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Word Count: there's no point guys. I can't stop talking.

A/N: WOAH!! Hello everyone!! What the fuck?? I wasn't expecting my "debut fic" to blow up like that! Thank you so so much to everyone who took the time to read it and leave a comment! I'm truly flattered by your praise. So, I hope this sequel to "PREY" does it justice! (but it can also be read as a standalone). Let me know if you guys like it, and if you have anymore ideas/suggestions! I'm tagging everyone who asked me to, so if you want to be tagged on my next fics let me know! Without further due, here comes that mostrosity of a fic! Hope you like it <3! (UPDATE: PART 3 IS NOW UP!!)

Taglist: @smallershorteranduncut @markster666 @jyoongim @stygianoir @pepperycookie @fraspent @aether-th3-enby

It all started, as many things do, with a joke and a simple misunderstanding. Dying and instantly going to hell is not easy. Being in hell and not understanding why the FUCK you are in hell is confusing, frustrating and sometimes drawright ridiculous. There’s no guidebook for the hellish afterlife, and more often than not you felt lost at sea, drowning. Until you found your questionable lifeline, the Radio Demon.

Somehow said demon clocked really early on that you were completely infatuated with him, but too scared to act on it. And oh, how he gave you enough reason to be infatuated, enough reason to be scared. Luring you into the most delicious trap, Alastor had claimed you as his. His to breed during the height of his heat, his to care for, his to inflict the most heavenly torture.

Being caught up in the middle of the living myth that was the Radio Demon was a dangerous thing, you had been warned over and over again. So of course that you had to almost fuck everything up in the silliest way possible.

The obnoxious TV set, also known as Vox, had just started another round of his futile attempts to win Alastor’s attention by airing the most absurd reality tv character assassination ever. You would put money on the fact that the obsessive flat screen was a deceased TLC producer. Usually, any of his pompous i-hate-alastor-so-so-much!!! fits would be met with enthusiasm around the Hotel. Everyone would cramp in front of the TV and make fun of the entire ordeal. Even Alastor would tag along and make a private edition of his radio show while he counter-narrated that nonsense. It became a fun bonding activity for everyone involved, it was a nice thing. But there’s a reason why you can’t have nice things.

Today the Hotel was mostly empty:, only you, Angel and a very on edge, sexually frustrated, irritated Alastor haunted its posh walls. Still, you and Angel carried on with the little tradition sitting side by side in front of the tv not knowing what to expect from today’s “My Strange Addiction - Alastor’s Version” episode. It was truly a laughable attempt of a character assassination, actors who could not act saying things like “Alastor isn’t even as bad as everyone says, his torture tactics are not that special either. My mom’s aunt was tortured by him and was going to work 10 hours later”, “i walked down the street today and alastor didn’t even try to kill me when he saw me crossing the street, he’s all talk” “i have video footage of the self-proclaimed cannibal eating a chocolate covered strawberry. He’s cannibalbaiting.”

“no self-respecting overlord would go out wearing those ridiculous out-of fashion clothes”.

Angel was having the time of his life leading the daily Vox roast session, the spider was funny and you couldn’t hold the laughs. The camera cut to a close-up of Vox, babbling on about technology and the anti-Radio Demon speech you knew by heart at this point. As if on cue, Alastor entered the room. But the pair of you remained oblivious to his presence.

“Toots, you totally should apply for this show! I mean it!. I’m sure Vox will buy literally anything you say. Anything! If you say Alastor likes to eat red nail polish cause it looks like blood he would believe it! You laughed at his words, what a ridiculous thing to say. You loved red nail polish, alastor drinking it because it looks like blood is absurd. “I mean, look at you!! Look at this face, these eyes!! This body!!!” Angel gave your thighs a playful slap. “If you say hell is actually cold using all that i would eat it right up. Vox will be too busy staring at your boobs to notice you dropping that even the oldest radio looks better than that fucking flat face”. The thought that you were the mind-numbing type of beautiful made you laugh. Sometimes you felt like your friends were being way too kind with the flattery about you. You were nothing special at all. It was nice of them to be kind to you, adapting to your new lifestyle was taking a visible tool, anyone could tell. Their efforts were honorable and sweet, but you just couldn’t let yourself believe what in your heart, you knew was a lie. A beautiful, comfortable lie, but still a lie. You weren’t much, you were just lucky. You started to laugh even harder, out of pure nervousness as your brain started to snowball into all the things you weren’t.

“ Seriously Angel, you have the strangest ideas ever!” you tried to sound normal, putting up a confident facade. That helped, a lot. You had picked that up during your days with Alastor.

Speaking of the devil, Alastor wasn’t amused by your little display. Standing on the corner of the room as you laughed, he made himself known by walking out of the room, in hurried steps. If it were anyone else, they wouldn’t think much of it. But you weren’t anyone else. You were Alastor’s.

And that’s why he was seething with rage. His rut always drove him, an already unpredictable man, to the brink of true, pure instinctual insanity. He had to grip his marvelous constructed self control painfully hard. Since your paths crossed, the most chaotic part of his existence seemed in control, your pretty little body always ready to take him, your eyes always holding his gaze in a maddening comfortable way, the way you would push your limits just for him.

Only for him.

And the worst part was your softness when it was all done. Alastor would fuck you rentless, for hours, making you take all the mess of his most animalistic desires without a second thought. Both of you would be spent, bathing in the afterglow, room smelling like sex, and you would ask him if he needed anything. Him, that just fucked you so hard so won’t walk straight for a week, that feasted on the blood of the love bites he inflicted, him that covered you in a painting of bruises.

How could he not want to just lock you inside his lavish room and give you all the rings of hell? to carve his name deep into your soul? to dote on you? to make him the only thing on your mind as he makes you his time and time again in the most sinful ways?

It was simple really, why he was shaking with anger: how you, who was his, was even thinking of being in the same vicinity of that scum of creation? LAUGHING AT THIS ABSURD CONCEPT. Vox thinking of you was already a crime punishable by painful death, but Vox looking at you was heresy, and the entirety of hell would pay for his transgressions.

As Alastor stormed off towards the Hotel’s large room corridors, he took several calming breaths. Losing control like this wouldn’t do anyone any favors. In the troubled waters of his mind, Alastor could only think of 3 things: you, fucking you and murdering someone.

So he didn’t even realize your hurried steps trying to catch up with his long strides.

“Hey sugartits! Don’t take too long doing whatever you need to do! there’s a woman going live after the break saying she saw Alastor eating an entire packet of PAPER TOWELS!!! HAHA! This shit is too good to be true!” you heard angel scream.

Adding insult to injury, nice.

Trying desperately to reach your demon lover gait, you could only think about how bad you had messed up. Alastor was your only true respite in hell. He was a blessing in a mist of the worst humankind could offer. He made you feel hope, more than making you feel alive, he made you feel glad you’re dead. The Radio Demon felt like coming home. You just wanted to make it up to him. You could not lose this, lose him. You were not sure you would survive it. And who knew where you went after dying in hell?

It doesn’t matter where you go after hell, it doesn’t matter at all if Alastor is not there. Your brain added to your inner monologue. True.

“Alastor! Wait” you shouted. He stops dead on his feet.

Finally, those long long legs of his do not make chasing after your love any easier.

“Alastor, I'm so so sorry. Angel gets way out of line sometimes and I was nervous” he is perfectly still, ears pinned back, listening. But doesn’t say anything back.

“Al I’m truly sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, at all. Look, let’s try to do something to make your day better. I know how hard this season is on you, I know you feel like you are losing contr-

Uh oh.

oh shit.

You used the two forbidden words together. The temperature in the room drops, Alastor snaps towards you. You feel something gripping your throat mercilessly, as you fall to the ground. Looking at the other end of the corridor Alastor has you on a leash of his magic. Eyes burning red, forehead marked “x” he grips your chains hard, pushing you towards him.

“That was a brilliant speech, little doe. Truly marvelous! I’m sure your television debut will be quite the show you were planning!”

His antlers were growing, his demon form showing itself as he becomes taller and taller over you. All bared teeth and flashing red eyes. This is what everyone warned you about. Don’t get in the Radio Demon’s way, he is dangerous and insane. You will regret it.

Hot. your brain thinks. He pulls your leash even tighter, and you feel wetness pooling on your core.

“Do you have any idea what I was about to do before I heard you so selflessly offer your services to that pathetic excuse of a demon?” Dragging you by the magic chains, his towering frame comes down to meet you at eye level. You can’t say anything back, your brain short circuits and goes AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

“You know better than leaving me waiting for an answer at this point, pet” He grips your face using his sharp claws,the pressure threatening to break skin. “But you seem so hellbent on being a bad girl today, I shouldn’t expect your usually good girl’s behavior, should I?”

You are, once again nothing but a doe caught in the headlights of his eyes

“One should always know better than expecting their fantasies to be true”

His sclera goes black, only the tiny blazing red radio dials devouring you as he stares so deep into you, you feel feverish.

“But since we are already here. I. Will. Tell. You.” static picks up around the room and surrounds you both, the corridor is illuminated by an eerie green light. You start to kinda fear for your life, but Alastor has you completely hypnotized by the radio dials on his eyes. You shiver in anticipation.

“I was coming to ask you, to please, spare me a part of your day, away from you friends. Because the only thing on my mind has been you. Fucking you. Sinking my cock so deep into your tight, wet cunt it would mark your soul. Because you are the only one who can take me like this, who deserves being bred by me, who deserves every drop of my seed”

You feel the wetness on your panties grow until it runs down your thighs. There’s nothing right about this, but your dear Alastor showed you long ago how the concepts of right and wrong are meant to be skewed.

“But oh well, you seem to have your affections directed elsewhere…” he tsks at you using that delicious mocking tone. “But, you can’t blame a desperate man for trying” he goes from 100 to 0 really fast, his voice softens so much in a way that’s almost too heavy to hear after all that. Even with his demon form still very much present “Do you still want to make my day better, pet?”

you are at a loss of words, but you manage to nod desperately. The anticipation of what he is going to do to you makes you giddy.

He manhandles your leash until you are on your knees in front of him, tugging on the chains so you look up towards his crotch. He makes quick work of his pants, pulling his cock out. Hard, angry hot red coloured. Angry because of you, angry for you.

“Open wide, little one” and without much more warning, Alastor is fucking your face, hard and fast.

You position your arms behind your back as quickly as you can. You know how hard it is for him to be touched when his rut is peaking. The overwhelming need for relief mixing with his ever present desire for control. This is about him asserting his dominance over you, making sure you don’t ever forget where you belong: In the warmth of his burning gaze, under him, on your knees, while he merciless fucks your throat into compliance. He’s taking it out on you, and you fucking love it.

He’s not saying anything, only growling like he’s about to murder someone. He grabs fistfuls of your velvety hair, but never leaves the white knuckle grip on your chains. You can only resist the urge of playing with your pussy while he thrusts so deep you feel his monster cock. hitting the back of your throat. This is about him, and you want to give him this so badly your cunt is throbbing with desire

Tears wet your cheeks, your lips around his cock are the definition of renaissance art to Alastor. He’s almost over the edge now, the head of his cock twitches on top of your tongue as a warning of his approaching orgasm. It’s hard, it’s hot, it’s fast and it’s angry.

Alastor cums, you swallow as much as you can, but he takes his cock out and spills everywhere, coating your hair, your face. It’s so deliciously erotic Alastor can’t resist catching some of his cum and running his hands throughout your velvet locks, bathing you in his essence, marking you once more. There’s still a bit of cum on the tip of his claw, he feeds it to you, and your lips wrap around his fingers as you take as much of him you can take, gladly.

“Oh how beautiful you are when you ruin yourself like this for me, my little doe” You look up at him with adoration and a lustful gaze, his eyes hold an equally lustful gaze and… something more. Something that you are sure will drive you insane.

Alastor notices the pooling mess underneath your tights, he knows how desperate you are for relief, but he still wants to self indulge on you. He’s certain you still don’t understand the reality of what he is feeling. Swiftly he topples you down the corridor’s carpet and places himself between your legs, his crawled finger tearing your lacy panties away.

Then, he feasts on you like a starving man, and he might be, because you taste like the ambrosia of the gods and he can’t get enough of it. Of how you make a mess of yourself for him and there’s still something for him to take. You just taste so sweet, what a perfect meal your nectar makes. His wicked silver tongue polishes you, aided by your whispered sighs, his name moaned like a prayer on your lips. You are so so close, alastor sucks on your throbbing clit you are already seeing stars, all you need is a gentle push.

Grinning like a devil, Alastor looks up, tilts his head, gives you the most wicked-and-douchey look in existence. He gets up, your leash dissipating into the air and walks away in perfect composure, like nothing happened. Nothing at all.

“Well, I think that’s my cue!!” he says in his usually chirpy tone. You just stay there, flabbergasted. “I just remembered I still have a lot to do today! Work never stops when you maintain a facility like this in tip-top condition!” Already halfway across the corridor, Alastor’s head turns towards you “Still want to make my day good my dear? Be a doll and clean this mess up, will you?” you just stare at him, too fucking stunned to speak. You can’t believe it. That fucking devil. He’s about to make the turn towards the elevator and disappear when his eyes flash red as he warns you “Oh! and don’t you dare make yourself cum without my permission. If you cum before I say so, you won’t be cumming for a week. Choose wisely!Let’s see who loses control first Ha Ha! This will be fun!”

Alastor can be a psychopathic demon in heat, but before all that he still is a psychopathic demon who loves torture.

And he just left you all hot and bothered.

–

Alastor knew better than believing in such things as heaven or holiness. In fact, Alastor was positively sure nothing was sacred. The concept of sacredness was non-existent in his book.

But his skeptic mind danced on the edge of belief when he touched you. To be inside you felt heavenly, heavenly in a type of way that should not even be allowed in this place. The way your lush body burned underneath his wicked gaze was sacred.The way you always presented yourself to him, with selfless abandon was sacred. Somehow, someone allowed him, of all people, access to a soul he frankly didn’t understand what was doing in hell in the first place. He never was the better man. He was never giving that up.

In all of his nature, Alastor felt the most sinful pleasure in defiling your sacredness. He wanted nothing but to take the heavenly thing you were and taint it with his darkness.

He was well acquainted to torture and had no shame in inflicting the most delicious and depraved type of it on you ,until all of your holiness was irrevocably marked by him, down to the core of your soul. Of course Alastor didn’t buy your soul. He didn’t need to use those means to completely own you. He did it effortlessly, because you craved it. Because he craved it.

That’s why the thought of Vox even looking in your way was heretic, and not in a good way. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you to Vox. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. Period. You were his.

But adding that man into the equation just made everything more intolerable. The things he would do if he found out about you… Found out that not only you were his but how you could make someone feel. How precious and undeserving of anything less than good you were…

You were made to be cherished and protected. Protected by him.

In fact, it took all of the Radio Demon’s willpower to restrain from walking to the Vees building, and kill Vox for something he didn’t do. Because Alastor wouldn’t allow the thought to even cross his mind. All that, a messy display of his desperation and loss of control. Giving that prick the smug satisfaction of knowing somehow he got to him, in his last moments.

Damn, his rut truly did make him on edge.

Suppressing his murderous thoughts, Alastor focused his mind into something he as actually good at: torture. Yours specifically. He still wanted to punish you for making him feel like this. He still wanted to make you understand.

And he just thought of the sweetest way to do it.

After cleaning up the mess on the corridor, and yourself (you did it all on autopilot, still trying to understand what the FUCK happened) you still had to give Angel a satisfaction about why you didn’t come back. You must’ve looked really miserable cause Angel just hugged you really tight and ordered you to bed. When in reality all of your efforts were now focused on masking your humiliating arousal. So you find yourself lying in your bed, trying not to think anything Radio Demon related. You’re totally not thinking about the way he looked at you while he fucked you. The way his eyes would search yours in a crowded room, winking playfully at you. An inside joke. A promise.The way you both playfully banter at the dinner table over silly things. You are also totally not thinking about how he takes you, how you love to hear him saying “good girl” to you after you push your limits again, only for him. Not thinking at all about how his cock fills you so perfectly, you truly feel empty without it. Who’s thinking about what hides behind his eyes when he his voice goes all soft in the middle of a rough fucking? Ha ha!! Definitely not you.

You punch yourself with your pillow.

C’mon don’t think thoughts of Alastor now…

You are so fucked, and not in a sexy way. The worst part is that you want to endure it, you want to be good for him. Your pussy is aching to be touched, your mind begging you to have thoughts of Alastor while your pussy is being touched. But right now you would give everything in this world to hear him praise you again. You know how hard his rut is on him… He already carries a lot alone, the Hotel, the doomsday clock of extermination ticking closer and closer everyday. Plus the other things… You know there’s something more, something that haunts his nights, but it’s not your place to ask. Hell, you are too scared to ask. You just hope, you just pray that when it happens you are beside him. You don’t ever expect the Radio Demon to ever ask for help, or open up. Or seek comfort. Oh, he’s anything but comfortable. But you like to think that in time, he would feel comfortable enough around you he could let something slip, a tiny detail to add to your “The Mystery of the Radio Demon” clue board. Something that would let you show him he doesn’t need to pick himself apart, carry all these burdens alone.

Great, you are doing amazing at the “not thinking any Alastor thoughts” game.

You hug your pillow closer and look across you window as you start saying out loud a list of things you need to do around the Hotel. Maybe this will take your mind off the devil.

Tend to the Venus Fly traps of the gardens. (You could ask Nifty for the bugs)

Write the thank you letters to the new guests that agreed to help with hotel chores.

Tell charlie about your book club idea using cool flashcards

It’s your turn to organize “Theme nights”, maybe Alastor would enjoy a “great gatsby” theme, right?

Great, Alastor again. You sighed.

Suddenly a red note written with perfect penmanship flies next to your spot on the bed.

“My darling doe, I’m waiting for you in my chambers.

Don’t take your time, we have much to discuss.-

Yours, Alastor.

You take your time, though, to thank anyone who’s listening as you sprint towards Alastor’s lavish room. You feel dizzy, anticipation like butterflies in your stomach. You don’t have to knock more than once for him to let you in.

He’s on the edge of the bed, looking like his normal self (as normal as it gets for Alastor)

The taps the spot next to him on the the bed

“Come here, you darling thing!”

you don’t waste a second, and as quickly as you are sitting on his bed, you are sitting on lap. Holding you close, in a vice like grip with one of his arms, Alastor starts talking

“How was the rest of your day, my dear?” you open your mouth to start talking, you have so much to say to him. That you were a good girl, that you were ready to do anything to make up for laughing at Angel’s stupid idea of seducing Vox. You are ready to beg for your release. to ask how his day was. But you don’t get to utter a word.

Alastor quickly and swiftly maneuvers you: now your feet are dangling from the bed, your ass and legs sprawled out across his lap. A powerful arm locking you to him by the small of your back.

Holy fuck.

“Well my day was downright awful! You see I overheard my pretty pet laughing at the prospect of seducing one of my most infuriating enemies. I’m in the peak of my unforgiving rut ,and all I wanted was the shared pleasure of our bodies as I fuck the darling thing senseless!” he pinches the back of your thigh, hard. You blur out a soft, desperate sigh.

“Of course, the good girl she is, she went begging for my forgiveness. I didn’t fully give it, of course. That was a harsh offense, what my little doe did. But I did have my fill with her” You try to spea-

Alastor audibly shushes you.

“I did leave her all hot and bothered after spilling my cum all over her maddening little body, of course. I contenplated murdering the bastard demon so he wouldn’t get a chance of even knowing about her existence and what she does to me. But I still suffered with the hellish need of fucking her into oblivion, and pondered a lot about divine justice. So, if I had to suffer this entire day because of her offenses I think it’s only right for that darling doe to get her fill of suffering and punishment hmmmm?

You try to look back to his face, but you feel the familiar sensation of magic wrapping around your throat. The leash, you are so so fucked. You couldn’t be happier about it.

He tugs at the chain, so your skirt rides up and your ass is totally bare for him and your head is buried in one of his fluffy pillows. With a snap of his fingers your panties disintegrate.

You shiver at the thought of what’s happening next, a delicious sensation that flows across your back and ends up inside your cunt, beginning to turn into a wet mess. He’s gonna spank you like the bad girl you were. He’s not going to be gentle about it either. You can’t wait. It’s gonna hurt, it’s gonna sting, it will leave you bruised. It will be deliciously wicked, like all of Alastor’s punishments.

You feel another surge of magic, behind the powerful green glow something materializes.

Your horsegirl days back on earth don’t let you down. You recognise it instantly. On his previous free hand he’s holding a riding crop. A big, leather pointed riding crop.

He’s going to literally whip you into submission. You squirm inside his arm. You can’t fucking wait. You’ve made yourself come a few times after the thought of being literally tamed, broke by alastor.

You whimper. Alastor’s laugh fills the room.

“So this is how this is going to go, pet. I’m going to whip you lovely ass like the ungrateful slut you are and you are going to thank me for it after every crack of the whip. I’m gonna do this as many times as I see fit. Until your ass is as red as my hair. Until you understand what you did. By the time I’m done you will be begging to be punished more. Are we clear?

You can’t look back at him, but you can feel how his red irises make your skin burn. You like to imagine that his eyes did the thing where they soften for a heartbeat, if you blink you miss it. Waiting for your permission, even now. You are able to muffle a “yes, oh please Alastor, yes”.

“Lovely.”

crack.

He didn’t even gave you time to process. The whip lands hard on the back of your left thigh. You let out a scream.

“Well?” he asks impatiently as he waits for your “thank you”. Seeing the way the spot where the whip landed turn a lovely shade of scarlet isn’t helping him hold his resolve either.

You wanna do this right, you need this as much as he needs it.

“thank-”

crack. the whip lands on your right thigh, a little lower.

“tha-”

crack.crack.

He whips you even harder, cutting the wind as it lands twice on your left buttcheek. Only four cracks down and you are a whimpering mess. You wiggle instinctively on his lap, seeking some friction, some relief. It hurts so bad, but it feels so good. You don’t know if you can take more. You want it anyway. “thank you, thank you” you whimper. Tears wet your face, arousal wets your core adding to the mess from before he even started.

crack. crack.

He mirrors his movements to your right buttcheek. “thank yo- Holy fuck Alastor”

one more hit, now hitting both of your buttcheks.

“I’ve told you many times before pet, there’s nothing holy about what I do to you. I’m gonna break you and then breed you. I won’t give you a moment of respite. And maybe by the end, when your legs are shaking from holding that orgasm you have been desperately chasing since this afternoon, I will be merciful and let you find your release. And we will know who’s really losing control here”

How can he do this to you with only his voice? You are not sure you’ve ever been so aroused in your entire life. You’re so wet, you’re staining Alastor’s pants. As close as you will get to marking him.

There’s a draft coming from the forest of his room, it softly kisses your abused skin, making it sting. You want to see the state of your lower body so badly. The way you’re submitting to him right now, the most sweet form degradation possible. Your eyes are clouded with tears, that line between pain and pleasure being blurred in ways only someone like the Radio Demon could cross. He tugs on your leash, to attract your attention from the sinful, unholy sensations you are feeling so openly, back to him.

Alastor drags the leather point of the whip across your throbbing cunt, collecting the obscene amount of wetness there. “By the 7 rings of hell, what do you have here? Are you such a slut that you are creaming at being whipped into compliance? I could do this all night long. Your ass is already red with regret for your actions but I’m not sure you learned your lesson yet.”

crack. The whip this time lands on your juicy cunt. Your hips trash with the sensation, your demon lover’s name escaping your lips like a prayer.You forget to thank him this time, despite your best efforts.

“Are you so big of an ungrateful brat that you want this sinful punishment to continue? Not even bothering to thank me, in hopes it will end sooner. You know what you are. Nothing but a hungry greedy whore for the Radio Demon”

crack, crack. One hit on each cheek. “But I already knew that” and with that mocking tone Alastor lands a masterful final hit on both of your cheeks. He does have a way of proving his point.

You are fucking sobbing now. Tears coat your cheeks, now a colour so vibrant as the rich scarlet the covers your ass. Alastor knows everything that makes you tick. He knows how close you are to cumming. Cumming for only his masterfully inflicted punishment and his voice. Incoherent whimpers leave your lips “please please please” and soft “ohh and aaah, alastor”

He tugs on your leash again, he knows your body like the palm of his hand, and that you are probably entering the mind numbing phase of the pain and the pleasure. But he still wants your undivided attention. He has whipped you into submission, he still needs to fuck you into submission.

“And you even made the mess of yourself stain my pants! My god, you are pathetic. Delightfully pathetic”

Alastor gently runs his clawed hands across your ass, the sharp edges making you hiss. He looks in adoration at the masterpiece he inflicted on you. Your ass and thighs a shade of scarlet to rival his hair, the wetness between your thighs a heavenly invitation. Beautiful. Sinful. Sacred. He will never forget this, and he will make sure that you never forget it too.

“Now, now, we are done with this my little doe” his voice goes extra soft because you can’t see him with your face buried in a soft pillow. “you were so good for me, you always are”

The softness and sweetness of his praise makes you sob even harder. It’s maddening.

He gently maneuvers you further into the bed, making space for himself.

“But now I’m painfully hard, and I still need to bury myself inside that tight throbbing cunt of yours, so deep it will mark. your. soul.” static picks up around you, a delicious omen of what is about to happen.

Alastor positions himself behind you, immediately entering you and bottoming out.

His first thrusts are sharp and deep, as to make his promise of marking yourself from the inside real. He pulls your chains so your scarlet ass is presenting itself to him like the most sinful gift.

Alastor picks up that breakneck pace of fucking, common to him, specially during his rut. He fucks you like he hates you. As hard as he possibly can, to make you know that you are his and his only. That even thinking of someone else, even as a joke, will not be tolerated. You wanted all of him didn’t you? You’ve made that clear, with words, with actions, with the things your body endures for him. So he makes sure to give you that.

Moans drip from your lips in a crescendo, you are screaming now, you don’t know how long you will last. It feels so good. That delayed gratification drowning you in maddening pleasure.

“Who do you think is losing control here?” he asks after a painfully sharp thrust. “Me, or the mess of a slut underneath me? That is screaming my name loud enough for the entire pride ring to know how she loves being fucked like a common whore for the Radio Demon,hmm?”

One hand pulls your leash upwards, the other your hips. He’s even deeper now, you can feel him in your core.

You don’t reply to the question even though you want to, even though you know the answer.

“Again, since you like being bred like that so much you are not hearing me” he takes all of his cock out and enters you at once. “Who’s losing control here? Me, or my little plaything with the scarlet ass from being whipped into compliance like the pretty little brat she is?”

You don’t forget to answer him now, you need to cum, desperately. You withheld your building orgasm for an entire day, you wanted to be good for Alastor. You wanted to be able to take everything he gives you. The pleasure, the pain, the sinful, delicious depraved torture. “Me, I am!” you scream out.

Alastor’s pace is becoming erratic, you feel the shadows of his growing antlers cover you.

“Again” he tugs at your collars. Another sharp, deep thrust.

“Me, i’m losing control”

“And what are you?” his voice is filled with static now, he’s close too.

“Yours! I’m yours Alastor, yours to fuck, to break, to punish” you cry out in sweet pain and pleasure.

Another tug, Another painfully sharp thrust

“I’m only yours Alastor” you finish.

“Good. girl.” he spaces the words out between thrusts, knowing how you relish in them.

“You can come now”

Your orgasm comes crashing down. You grip the sheets like a maniac, your legs shaking so hard Alastor needs to hold them in place. You scream so loud you are sure they can hear you in heaven. You hope they can, so they know. So they know this man owns you. So they know you love him.

Alastor is not far behind, your cunt tightening around him like a vice. He fucks you specially hard and deep know, delayed gratification hitting all at once. He cums so hard inside you, he’s sure he finally marked your soul. The feeling of his cock twitching and spilling inside you, adding to the indescriptible sensation. You are completely over the edge now, you feel weightless, free falling.

You know Alastor will catch you.

“Ah! There she is” you open your eyes and feel a soft kiss on your cheek. You are lying on top of Alastor’s chest, he cuddles you gently, making lazy circles on your hipbone but still buried to the hilt inside you. He still plans to give you all of his cum, all he has during his rut,after all.

“woah, that was… amazing” you say after a while.

“Well, I did whip and fuck you to the brink of insanity my dear. And you came so beautifully for me, you passed out. You’re such a sight pet. I will never forget it.” you blush at his words. You feel so happy.

Alastor kisses your cheek again, and with a final thrust he leaves you with a obscenely wet noise. You are dripping with his cum, it’s running down your thighs, staining the sheets.

You whimper in complaint.

“Ah ,don’t be like that” he laughs, is a genuinely happy laugh. “There’s still plenty of where that came from, but I need my darling doe to rest first” he says. He’s lying you gently on the bed as he gets up. “Don’t leave” you whisper.

He’s out of the bed anyways, and seems to be on his way to do something. You don’t care, you want him back here, holding you. You don't want him to ever let you go.

“Al, i’m truly sorry about today. You know that, right?” You know that I love you, right? You want to say, but you are scared that confession is a little much for today. You see where he’s headed now. He opens the bathroom door.

“Don’t even think about it, my dear. It’s all water under the bridge” he says in his usual chirpy tone, louder than the noise of the bath running. “Now you just need to promise me that you will never even let the thought of that pathetic demon cross your mind, my love”

my love.

“And if he ever does, you will let me know. So I can fuck those wretched ideas out of your mind” Alastor is walking back to the bed now. He picks you up bridal style and carries you across the room. You can’t help the hiss that escape your lips as your irritated skin touches him. “I know, I know my dear. We will fix that right up. I can’t have my favourite doe hurting. We still have a long way to go until the end of my rut, dearest” you don’t reply, you are just happy. perfectly happy. You could hear Alastor’s voice for days without complaining. “But you did look so perfect with that scarlet ass on my lap. Crying from how much you love what I do to you. I hope you never forget that”

You both reach the bathtub, he drops you with all the care in the world inside the water.

“I’m so proud of you. I truly am” the water is warm. The soap smells so nice. He lit candles too. You give in to the soothing sensations. You might have tuned out for a bit, cause you hear alastor calling your name so softly… He says it again, slow, soft, gentle, pleading. As to catch your attention, he has something important to say. “You know how precious you are to me, don’t you my little doe?” “yes” you respond, trying to fight the tears that begin to spill down your face ‘

“Oh my darling girl, why are you crying? There’s nothing to cry about. You are here, safe with me. As you will always be, as is your place.”

“Alastor I-I-” your heart swells, you want to say something. You want to say everything you are feeling. How consuming, in the best way possible, your feelings are for him.

But Alastor is always 10 steps ahead.

“I know, I know darling” he kisses your hand “I feel it too.” he says. It feels like a confession, it sounds like a confession. The look on his eyes is the one of that mystery that hides there every time his voice in the midst of your passion.

When you,know you know. your mind reiterates.

“Let me help you dry those tears. Save them for another day” He holds your face and kiss your lips. “The only thing you need to worry about right now is resting and recovering that luscious body of yours, as well as your brilliant, witty mind”

He hands you a sparkly fancy pink soap, and gets up to find the softest sponge he has stored.

“Now, I hope you like the smell of these candles, cause I’m not letting you out of my sight for at least the next four days!”

Alastor continues to chat away sweet nothings as he helps you bathe. Maybe it will take a while for the Radio Demon to say those 4 words out loud. He has enough reason for that, inside that beautiful, complicated mind of his. His actions always speak louder than words, your relationship was proof of that.

Until then, you will always have sacred moments in crowded rooms, you will always have jokes that only the both of you understand. He will always keep sweeping you off your feet in the most deliciously wicked ways possible.

Right now, you have him by your side after everything that happened, you have his heart too. You are sure of that. So you don’t mind waiting for him.

Good things come for those who wait.

#꩜ reblogs.#꩜ recs.#꩜ ily.#꩜ nsfw.#you don’t understand how obsessed I am with this

478 notes · View notes

jesi555 · 2 months

Text

"PREY" - Alastor x reader fic

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Tags: One-Shot, 18+, Smut, NSFW, edging, begging, overstimulation, Alastor does what he wants, there's plot if you squint really hard, alastor in heat, breeding kink, degradation kink, praise kink,

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Word Count: i lost count. it's big.

A/N: Helloooooo!!! I write a lot but i never publish it! My lovely friend and also biggest inspiration for this fic @smallershorteranduncut ordered me to post this and i'm nothing but her loyal servent! I hope you guys enjoy the fruits of me writing 10 google docs pages today while i was enraged. Also english isn't my first language, no beta we die like men here yadayayfayada! enjoy <;3 (UPDATE!) Part 2 is now up!

Everything about the Radio Demon seemed to be designed to make you desire him, want him. Many times in ways you weren’t even ready to admit to yourself. You haven’t been in Hell long, that’s true. But ever since you manifested here you felt like someone had picked your brain open to make Alastor the perfect bait to lure you into even more sinful, sinister paths.

He had an inexplicable magnetism around him, a piercing presence that made your eyes stuck on him when he worked a room. He had you bewitched and you hadn’t share more than polite pleasantries with each other since you became a guest at the hotel.

Today, again, you were transfixed in his gaze. Sitting in the corner of the hotel lobby, trying to make your embarrassing attraction to him go unnoticed while Alastor waltzed across the room explaining more of his wicked plans to Charlie. God, how you wish he had his wicked way with you.

He seemed more… on edge today. His red eyes glowed a little brighter, his nostrils flared a bit more, static filling the room more often, he was smiling with almost barred teeth, and everyone seemed to be avoiding him. Even Charlie was trying to politely dismiss him, the general feeling of uneasiness inside the hotel just growing larger when Angel stationed himself near your little corner of the room.

“Don’t go near that creepy motherfucker today, he’s about to lose it.” Angel alerted, almost whispering, a pair of his hands making the “crazy sign” near his head

“Isn’t he always creepy and about to lose it?” Husk added, staring at the exchange between the radio demon and Charlie.

“I’m telling you toots, I know that guy definitely isn't normal, but today he is borderline a mass extinction event. I swear, he’s just waiting for someone to give him the excuse” Angel replied, confirming your suspicions. Something was off.

“Uh. Well, about that, I think it’s time we rescue Charlie”

As if on cue Charlie turned to the corner of the room, gesticulating really hard to be taken away from the small commotion her conversation with Alastor was becoming.

“Hey Charlie, do you remember that thing with the hotel’s… personalized stationery you asked me to help you today? Let’s do it!” Said angel gently guiding Charlie away from the Radio Demon.

“Guess that’s my cue Alastor! Greaaaaat chat! As always! Have a nice day!! Byeee!” Charlie’s overly chirpy tone giving away her uneasiness.

Suddenly it felt like all the air was taken out of the room. Alastor’s neck turned into an ungodly angle, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. Static grew around the group, almost suffocating. As your vision went blurry from the sheer power that was being evoked, you contemplated if there was another afterlife. Preferably one where you didn’t inherit a death wish from your previous ones.

And as quick as it started, it was over.

Alastor just said a creepy “hm” turned on his hell, and walked away.

It almost felt like it was all in your head, but your friends standing perfectly still and dead silent next to you gave the reality of the situation away: everyone just had a near death-death experience. Maybe it would be a good topic for Charlie’s bonding exercises, who knows with this place.

“I told ya’ll. Mass. Extinction. Event. Stay out the psycho’s way”

Angel’s voice became background noise in your head, your eyes focusing on the spot where Alastor just threatened everybody’s life without saying a word. As the voices dissipated around you and normalcy slowly returned to the hotel, your mind sank deeper and deeper into the mystery that was the Radio Demon.

They were so oblivious, so naive. Thinking he wasn’t listening what they said about him behind his back. Thinking he was unaware of him being the topic of the discussion when he wasn’t looking. He could bathe in the smell of their fear, and he was relishing it.

Alastor stared at the new pretty little thing that arrived at the hotel. Oh how pathetically sweet and innocent she was, thinking she was being subtle about her infatuation with him. Thinking she could hide her interest in him, when she was nothing but a doe caught in the headlights of his eyes. Oh, she was just the perfect prey for him, wrapped in this lovely red bow she wore on her hair.

Angel was right, he was just waiting for an excuse, and she just offered him one on a silver platter. And alastor was everything but a coward.

You cursed a little bit louder than you intended when you saw the blood dripping from your finger. “Stop. making. a. spectacle. of. yourself” you mentally screamed. You still could not figure Charlie’s “special stationary stapler” out, so stapling your finger was bound to happen.

Even though it was not much, the silly little cut was stinging like a bitch, and your best efforts to stop the bleeding were futile, considering the mess on the hem of your skirt. Still high on the adrenaline from earlier, your shaking hands searched for something, anything to put on your finger so you could continue your work without anyone noticing. Everyone already had enough for one day, it was fine.

“My dear, did you just hurt yourself?” Alastor’s voice invaded your ears. Oh, fuck. That’s it, he was going to murder you for being so incompetent with the damned stapler.

Turning to face him, you meet his piercing gaze, not sure if you should run and scream for help. “Oh no worries alastor, it’s just a small cut, i can manage!” you give him your most confident smile.

Alastor’s head tilts, eyes burning red as he watches the small droplets of your blood make their way down your index finger.

“Nonsense, I can't have my staff running around with injuries and bloodied clothes. We are in hell, but we are not savages, dear” He seems transfixed by the blood, and you are too scared to move, too scared to anything other than hold the weight of his gaze and hope for the best. Your lizard brain is screaming for you to run, ask for help. Maybe Charlie isn’t too far away, could you make a run for it? Somehow your survival instincts override your brain, maybe all those hours watching true crime back on earth weren’t in vain, and you decide against running. Let him initiate first.

He catches your wrist, trapping it inside his deadly claws. His face, towering over you, comes all the way down to inspect the offending finger. You can feel his breathing on your skin.

Your breathing stops. You swallow an imaginary lump. He’s gonna bite off your fing-

“Would you be a doll and let me take care of it? Blood being unnecessary wasted truly abhors me”

You must have said yes at some point, you don’t really remember, now you are holding the red handkerchief he handed you, answering his request to “please follow him”. Trailing behind the Radio Demon, both of you walk through the large corridors.

This might be the time to scream for help. the voices inside your head warn. With every step of his feet you hear his microphone going tsk tsk tsk where it touches the ground. You are walking the death row, the paintings on the wall chanting “dead woman walking, dead woman walking”.

“Keep pressuring the wound darling, we are almost there” he gently commands you, too gently… it feels almost… soft, pleading. The way Alastor goes from 0 to 100 is giving you whiplash.

He slows down, reaching for the door knob of an unknown room. Ever the gentleman, he gestures for you to enter first.

the door locks behind you.

if i’m being murdered, at least i’m being murdered with class.

“Don’t be silly, I’m not going to murder you” Alastor says, almost singing the last part of the sentence.

“Oh fuck, i said that out loud, didn’t I?” you blurted out

“Yes you did. And yes, I also noticed your lovely doe eyes on me every time i’m in the room”

Your brain short circuits. That 's it. You are dead. He’s not going to murder you (apparently), but you are going to die of embarrassment. It will feel like murder. He knows, fuck, he knows. He knows about your crush (?) and he’s going to drag you for it. You are going to be so dragged the angels will pity you and bring you to heaven. A creative way to be redeemed, Charlie should know about this. Your thoughts are going downhill as a big snowball, there are too many of them and you can’t follow a single coherent train of thought. You don’t even want to know how you look in the middle of this. You must look pathetic, truly like a doe caught in headlights. And then you hear your name once.

Twice now, in a sing-song voice.

Your eyes fly open towards the sound, breaking from the anxiety induced spell as you realize the Radio Demon had just called you, by name. He knows your name???

“Ah hahah! You’re back.” Alastor says, as he starts to circle you like a predator. Your eyes, as always, follow his across the room.

“I don’t like to repeat myself, little doe. You heard what I asked?”

Again, you don’t really remember answering, your brain is going AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA as you watch him pace around you, eyes burning red, demanding your attention. Teeth slightly barred, voice on the edge of something. Was that “X” on his forehead always there?

“I asked if you know what you are doing to me” static fills the room as he finishes speaking. Alastor’s clawed hand trapped your bloodied finger dangerously close to his grinning lips. Your brain is doing flips as he stares deep into your soul, and when your thoughts land you make the connection. Alastor is horny. Alastor is horny for y-

“You see, little doe, I know what your eyes hide when you desperately lower them everytime I come near you. I know how you feel you can hide in plain sight if you stay quiet enough. But I can taste it. Your fear. Your lust. In the air. In your blood.” He has a white knuckled grip on your wrist now, same with his microphone. You lower your guard, eyes going from startled to lustful. “Good thing right now there’s nothing more i want in this godforsaken pit than your lust, pet”

You want this. There’s no point in lying to yourself. You want Alastor to fuck you. You’ve fantasized about the Radio Demon taking you more times than you can count. More times than you would like to admit to yourself. This feels deeply wrong, but you crave it.

Fuck it, you are in hell, there’s nothing to lose. Alastor is still watching you, impatiently. For the first time today you realize you actually forgot to say something. He’s waiting. Alastor is waiting for your permission.

“Take my breath away, Alastor”

Your permission might have been really loud, it felt like you were screaming the words. But you can’t be sure, it might have been a whisper. Either way he didn’t miss it, what happens next is fast, angry and delicious.

Alastor pounces and licks the blood on your finger, something clicks inside him as he tastes the red liquid, because he lets go of his microphone instantly and his arms grab your waist aggressively, so forceful you wouldn’t be surprised if it breaks skin. You shouldn’t be so turned on by this, by the sight of a psychopathic demon drinking your blood. But you are, and there’s no going back.

“Strip” he orders. You want to say to him that you can’t take your clothes off your person with him holding you like this. He must have realized the conundrum: if he wants you naked, he has to let go of you. To Alastor, letting go of you right now is simply unthinkable. So he doesn’t: you feel his claws cut the bodice of your dress open, sending the most delicious shivers down your spine. Another claw rips your skirt apart, and you are almost fully naked in the Radio Demon’s arms, pressing your body hard on his still impeccable dressed body.

It’s humiliating, it’s dangerous, it’s hot, it is delicious, to be at his complete mercy, just how you always wanted.

Somehow both of you made your way close to the enormous bed in the middle of the room. Alastor cornered you, so the only way you could escape was walking backwards towards the bed. The brilliant bastard.

You feel your calves hitting the edge of the bed, and Alastor breaks away.

Pity, your mind complains. Get him back to touching you again. right. now,.

“Now now, we should establish some rules for this, pet” Alastor’s hands might have stopped touching you, but his piercing eyes never did. He knocks you on top of the bed, you lay there sprawled open just for him. His hands move up to do a quick work of his bowtie

“Rule one: you will take what I give you. Nothing more, nothing less. What I give you is enough. You might feel like you can’t take anymore, but you can. You will take it, I will make you take it” He takes his tailcoat off, his frame towering over you, even with your body completely flat on the mattress and his in front of it.

“ Rule two: every ounce of your pleasure is mine and mine only. Mine to give, mine to take. And you will give me everything. I want to hear every sound, to feel every touch, to know every nasty thought that runs inside that pretty little head of yours. You will not suppress anything, I wanna hear your moans when you make a mess of yourself as I take everything I desire from your delicious body. I will relish on your desperate screams of pleasure.Nothing outside these walls matter” He is climbing on the bed now. You hold the weight of his gaze, underneath your demonic lover’s eyes your skin burns.

“Rule three: don’t you dare cum without my permission, good girls earn their orgasms and you will be a good girl. Or else…” static starts to pick up around the room, you are seeing the blackest black that ever was, his shadows enveloping you both. Nothing outside these walls matter. “Understood?” Alastor says as he pins your hands on top of your head, against the fancy headboard. His hand cups one of your boobs and he is worrying your nipple between his sharp claws. finally finally, your mind sings. You feel a surge of magic binding your wrists in green chains, attached to the headboard. It’s overbearing, it’s ridiculous. His magic feels like him, another part of him for you to take.

He pinches your nipple particularly hard and you moan softly, pleasure and pain consuming any other sensation. You forgot to answer him, you realize. You’ve barely started and you are already being bad. “yes alastor, yes.. but please don’t stop” the soft whimper leaves your lips.

“lovely.” he replies, and with that his mouth is on your nipple, sucking it while he administers his wicked ministrations to your other one. His sharp teeth prickling on the edge of breaking skin, and you already feel like you won’t be able to take all of him.

His hand trails down to aggressively grip your thighs, his tongue sucking the neglected nipple his fingers left. Your moans become frequent and messy, if he’s already making you go insane with the beginnings of foreplay... You might pass out and die when he starts fucking you, but you don’t care. Let him show you the true meaning of la petite mort.

“My my, what do we have here” his hand leaves your thigh to trace the wetness of your panties. A clawed finger rips it apart, the last barrier between you and total consumption by the Radio Demon. He takes the finger between your glistening lips, not entering, just teasing

“I don’t think i will get enough of this pretty little body of ours anytime soon, pet” he says as his finger finally enters your sex, He moves his digit with an expertise you didn’t really know he had in him, making you whimper his name, ooohs and aaaahs, your hips start threshing from the pleasure. If you continue at this pace, you will be begging for permission to cum too soon. Pathetic. you think to yourself. Because you know how hard this building orgasm will be,you don’t know if he will grant you more than one orgasm. And will you murder you yourself if you don’t feel his cock inside you tonight. You take a deep breath in between your moans and will your hips to stay in place, your nerves to calm down.

Alastor adds another finger, and it takes all of your willpower not to become a puddle of wetness right there. You bite your lip so hard you taste blood.

“you do make a mess of yourself, don’t you? you just can’t help it” he says as he curls his digits inside you. Your hips start thrashing hard again, and you sink them deeper into the bed. The chains on your wrists shake with the effort to hold back. As if alastor wasn’t going to notice. “no no no what did I say?” he snaps angrily, he’s eyes flash red at you and he takes his fingers out with a wet “pop”, you feel like crying at the emptiness. “please please alastor, don’t stop” you plead. His hands leave you entirely, you are left with just his piercing gaze, the one that makes your skin burn. “did I say you could hold back? don’t pretend like you aren’t a common whore for me, that you love how pathetic it feels that you are creaming yourself and we haven’t even really started”

his condescending tone just makes everything even more sublime. It’s so wrong how good being told you are nothing more than a common whore by the Radio Demon feels. But you never felt anything close to this. “please Alastor” you beg again, nothing but a small whisper

“I would love to taste this pussy, so red already for me, but since you broke one of the rules… i’m afraid I will make you understand that are nothing but my pretty cockslut the hard way”

Punishment? His punishment sounds ever better than his praise right now. You moan at his voice. He laughs.

His knees cage you, as he lifts his upper body from you and starts undoing his zipper. He is taking his cock out. Oh fuck, he’s gonna fuck you without anymore foreplay. And he’s not going to be gentle about it either. You shiver.

Alastor pumps himself a few times, his cock is big, thick, and an angry red shade, flush red like that, because of you, just for you. He’s gonna make you pay: pay for holding back from him, pay for making him feel like an animal and almost losing his hard constructed control.

The look on his face says it all, he’s gonna take it out on you and you can’t do nothing about it.

You don’t have much time to think about the repercussions, in one swift motion his tip is already inside you, stretching you deliciously. Your brain short circuits again, the feeling of his cock inside you is everything you imagine and more. Depraved, heavenly, delicious. You struggle in your binds again, you want desperately to touch him. To feel his skin beneath your finger, to scratch him, mark him. But oh well, he’s the Radio Demon, he’s the one in charge and you are his prey.

Alastor starts to slowly enter you, he’s trying his best to hold back. He knows if he does this too fast it will hurt in a way he doesn’t want you to feel. And by the look on his face going slow is as torturous for him as it is for you. tantalizing inch after tantalizing inch he spreads the walls of your cunt apart. You understand now why this is punishment, it hurts in a perfect way, it hurts even more that he is doing it slowly, and not just thrusting like you imagined he would, if he had more time to work on you.

You become a mess of moans and incoherent words. His cock is halfway inside you now “HoLY FUCK ALASTOR” you scream. It’s already too much.

“There’s nothing holy about this my dear. I’m going to breed you. I’m going to break you” and with that he buries himself to the hilt inside you. Now you truly scream in pleasure and pain “you won’t be able to walk straight for days, you will feel me in every step, and you will thank me for it”. His thrusts pick up at breakneck speed, the bed shakes from the sheer force that Alastor is using to fuck you. Every snap of his hips you moan more and more.

The sound you make when he takes everything out and enters you at once is so obscene that it would make Angel Dust blush. He’s growling now, his antlers growing bigger as he fucks you like his life dependend on it. As he fucks you like he hates you.

Alastor pushes your hips higher, and suddenly he’s even deeper. His other hand holding your waist in a bruising grip. The strain on your pinned hands will bruise too. His lips graze the skin of your collarbone, he looks so feral you are scared he will maul, the thrill of not knowing adding to your fucked up sense of pleasure.

He seems to pick up on your fear, and bites down on your collarbone, hauling as he tastes your blood and buries himself inside you again and again. Moans turned into screams, and the only thing coming out of your lips is his name, spoken like a profane prayer. You would give everything you have to Alastor, and he doesn’t even have to ask.

Your orgasm has been building for a while now, the coil on your belly becoming tighter and tighter, like a supernova about to be born. “Alastor, please please let me come” you beg. His unfocused eyes stare down at you, as he takes a moment from feasting on your sweet blood to address your desperate, sweet pleas.

“Don’t. You. Dare” he says, punctuating every word with a sharp thrust. As much as you want, you are not sure you will be able to hold any longer. “I beg you alastor, please let me cum, i will let you do anything you want. but i need it so badly, please please”

You sounded so desperate when you begged, so beautiful.

“Don’t strike deals you don’t know you can fulfill, pet” his voice is low, a warning. You ignore it. “I promise Alastor, anything”. Alastor laughs.

his finger touches your clit as he finally allows your sweet relief “you may come now, sweet doe” and that’s it, you are off, you are dead. You see stars, you see the entire universe as you scream out and climax. Walls tightening around Alastor’s monster cock, eyes rowling, his name a scream on your lips. You ride out your wave slowly, but Alastor is not slowing down.

Instead he is picking up his pace, maneuvering your hips even higher, your chains are stretched to the limit. You can feel them start piercing your skin. Thrust after thrust the sensation becomes too much, you are too overstimulated to go through all of this again.

“i can’t take it, i can’t take it!”

Alastor doesn’t care. “I told you not to make deals if you can’t hold them, didn’t I?” You don’t answer, you can’t. you can’t to anything but let him fuck you as hard and as much as he want. “but you are such a little cockslut for me that you can’t help it. What a shame”

He is gripping your hips so hard it breaks skin, tiny trails of blood on his claws. “you will take it. You better take it, or I will make you take it” static picks up as he threatens the last words. You know you are spent, you know how bad it hurts, you know how bad his words sound, but the lines between pleasure and pain are so blurred that you can’t think coherently. Even this pain of being broken feels good.

Still, tears fill your eyes and you start crying, from pleasure, from pain, you don’t know anymore. What Alastor is doing to you has no precedent. No one can do this like he does. He knows torture too well, and he is tortouring you in the most decadent, delicious ways possible. “alastor i want to, i want to so bad but i just can’t” the tears sting your eyes and stain your face.

Alastor sees it. He slows down just a bit, his voice softening “oh my dear doe, but you can. Just this once more, just for me. One more” his voice is so maddening soft it acts like fuel to your tears. Your skin tingles and you feel giddy, somehow your throbbing hot, wet cunt seems to find the right amount of relief, and you can feel only pleasure again.

Alastor continues to fuck you, your moans returning to normal, you are being so loud now, making a mess of yourself, just like he said, and a big hand comes to cover your mouth.

“Oh we can’t have you being this loud can we?” his voice goes to that delicious mocking tone. His thrusts are slower now, but as deep as they can go. “what would you friends say if they found out that you moan like a common whore for their feared radio demon.. hum,.?”

You start to feel the pit of your belly tightening again, and alastor doesn’t stop humiliating you. The degradation feels just the right amount of perfection. You are exactly what he says you are. A common whore when it comes to him. “weren’t you ashamed just a few moments ago? trying to hold back the sinful sounds you make when I touch you? I already gave you one orgasm. I’ve been way too generous for my liking. I should stop right now since you feel so conscious about this” Alator’s breathing is becoming erratic, his thrusts sharp, hard, and out of the breakneck rhythm he was torturing you before.You start moaning even louder through his hand. “ungrateful little pet. You are just so greedy for one more orgasm, you don’t even care that everyone downstairs can hear you hm??”

You can’t think straight. you feel on the edge of glory, this orgasm threatening to be harder than your previous one, as if it is possible. “alastor i’m so sorry, i know i don’t deserve it” you muffle behind his hand, he hears you speaking and takes if off “but can you please let me cum? just this once? just for you. Please Al” his thrusts are truly erratic now. He’s close too, even though you are too wrapped up on your own sensations to notice

“please” you beg, nothing more than a whisper. Already making peace with the fact that you are going to come without his permission and he will probably never fuck you again

“Good girl, you can come now”

instantly as you are granted his permissions your world explodes, blinding hot pleasure takes over your body, the waves of pleasure making your heart beat so fast you feel like it’s going to stop. The petit mort is coming, and her sweet embrace envelops you, specially now that you feel Alastor’s cock twitching and spilling his seed inside you. You scream his name. Maybe you hear him screaming yours too. You don’t know anymore, your nerves are singing from pleasure unheard of back when you were alive. Pleasure so great it could only be found in hell. The most heavily, depraved way of torture.

You come down from your high, still dizzy, your body going limp. You are not dead, but you are positively spent. You give in into the warm and fuzziness of sleep.

The last thing you remember is the softness of a blanket, a gentle kiss on your cheek.

“Oh my dear, I knew you had one more on you,spending yourself this way just for me! What a truly precious thing, doe”

You might be dreaming now.

You weren’t dreaming. Alastor praises you, knowing his words will be the last thing you hear before a night of peaceful, deep dreamless slumber. He makes sure to put the softest velvet blanket he owns on your body, not to make the damage you gladly allowed your body to take for him an inconvenience. Tomorrow you will wake up to fancy letters of praise and sweet chocolate covered strawberries. And no one will know how Alastor found the perfect doe to breed as he pleases during the height of his mating season.

#꩜ recs.#hello guys im insane can you tell?#꩜ nsfw.#alstor smut #alastor x reader #MEOWWWW #꩜ ily.#꩜ reblogs.

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