#//He likes her bite and the thrill of danger; she likes his blood and how dedicated he is to making her happy
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‣‣ COR UNUM: CHAPTER ELEVEN | TAMONTEN
‣‣ Synopsis: Our tale continues with an insight into the dark recesses of the Shogun's daughter's mind, just how deep have the tendrils of darkness burrowed into her very being? Perhaps things will start to unravel in the light of a new vow...
‣‣ Main Masterlist | AO3
‣‣ Pairing: Sukuna x Reader
‣‣ Word Count: est. 11.7k
‣‣ Warnings: Blank blogs & Minors DNI. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Set in the Early-Heian Period, trueform!Sukuna, female reader, cannibalism, vivid gore and horror, descriptions of bodily harm, jealousy, Sukuna is on the softer side here, smut (dacryphilia, oral f!receiving, spit, very intimate, double penetration, biting/marking, creampie, possessiveness with a hint of a primal kink)
“Watch your tongue, girl.” It’s Uraume who hisses the words. The girl in question seems to disregard Uraume entirely, uncaring for the way her haori flutters at her sides to reveal absolutely everything. You have to blink away the surprise on your face to give way to the confusion.
Sukuna only grunts at the intrusion, heaving a heavy sigh that tells you that this woman is most definitely the guest of the day. His arm remains tight around your waist. As if he knew you were slowly coiling tighter and tighter like a snake once the unknown woman ascended a few steps closer to the throne.
“Yorozu.” Sukuna comments flatly, shoving a curled fist against his cheek when he leans against the armrest of the throne made of bones. “I told you the next time you approach me wearing nothing but a haori, I was going to add your skull to my collection.”
Yorozu doesn’t blanch at the threat, if anything her smile grows on her face when she manages to drag her eyes away from the arm looped around your waist and up towards Sukuna’s face.
With the final step up, her lips part as if she’s ready to play his dangerous game of cat-and-mouse but instead… you watch the way her face suddenly twists in agony. The human body was so malleable, so easy to bend and snap until it was unravelled. Her screams were awfully loud within the grand room, bouncing and ricocheting until they settled against your ears.
You watched as her skin tore itself apart, twisting until it broke with a sickening wet ripping sound. Her once fair skin is replaced by that of blossoming red, it douses the white haori over her shoulders until it’s an entirely different colour altogether.
Mangled and beyond recognition, you still watch with a thrill that flutters in your chest. Her body is splayed against the cool tile floor, her blood seeping into the cracks until it flows away. Even now, the long-haired woman still screams — still wails as her limbs are torn, muscle and sinew alike ripping slowly… like it would if you were to sink your teeth into it.
Would she still be worthy of eating after? Your stomach tightens at the thought, but not in disgust. In sick pleasure. You stare down at the writhing woman, the flesh of her legs is cleanly tugged from the bones that achingly hit against the stone floor with each thrash of her body.
How long could the human body survive before it broke? When would shock set in? The human heart was fragile, like it was almost made of glass and anything could break it. You wanted to be the one to crush her heart in your hand, to feel the rhythmic beating of it as it still rested in her chest before you squeezed… and squeezed… until it burst.
A hand squeezes at your side and you blink away from the scene before you, only to find Yorozu is still staring up at you from her place at the bottom of the step. Sukuna has a much tighter hold over you, the tips of his claws dig past the multiple layers of rich silk and nearly pierce your skin.
Not to hurt you, but to ground you — recenter your mind. As if he knew exactly what you had imagined.
The woman before you, Yorozu, seems to flare her nostrils at the motion. Her fingers curl uselessly into the sleeves of her haori and yet—she still does not close it to hide her modesty. It only serves to spring more questions to mind, just who exactly was Yorozu to Sukuna? He seemed to hold no fondness for her in the way he addressed her, but he didn’t really in the way he spoke to you — did he?
“Spit it out, or get out.” Sukuna commands, a lazy look on his face despite the iron grip on your waist.
Yorozu shifts her light-coloured eyes quickly away from you and back onto Sukuna once he speaks. Ah, so it was infatuation on her behalf, there’s no doubt about that. She looks at him as if he hung the moon and stars.
“Master Sukuna,” Yorozu all but purrs, the lilt in her voice makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. “I have what you asked for.”
That makes Sukuna raise an eyebrow, but he doesn’t move a muscle to get whatever it is he ‘asked for’. That makes Yorozu shift on her feet once again, the sound of her bare feet on the tiled floor is nothing short of claws on rock.
“I didn’t know we discussed important matters in front of whores now—” She huffs a laugh, her gaze flicking away from Sukuna’s face just in time to miss the raising of his upper lip into a snarl. “Well? Get out of here.” That was addressed to you.
“You’ve been warned once. Watch your tongue.” He snarls in retort, and Yorozu’s thick eyebrows shoot up into her hairline. “Get on with it.”
Despite her initial shock at the tone Sukuna took with her, Yorozu clears her throat and plasters on a much too sultry smile for your liking. “The Shogun has returned to his home. He no longer resides at the Shogun’s palace—apparently, he had important business at the Zen’in estate.”
You don’t bristle at the mention of your uncle or the fact he’s returned to the Zen’in estate. It was a grand thing, built by and for your father. It held multiple branches of the Zen’in family, all of them trained warriors with formidable cursed techniques. Some of them however had no cursed energy at all… at least that’s what some of the scrolls you had filtered through just a day prior had mentioned.
“He moved his army there?” Sukuna asks, his back straightening just slightly at the idea of slaughtering not just the Shogunate—but the entirety of the Zen’in clan in one fell swoop.
“Mhm,” She hums before continuing. “The Generals and Sun-Moon-Stars are also on the move.”
The Generals and Sun-Moon-Stars? You had no idea who or what they even were, they’d never been mentioned by your father when you had often hovered around him as a child when he discussed strategies with his strongest men.
One of Sukuna’s hands comes up to rub at his chin in contemplation, an odd look on his face. One of deep thought. Whoever these people were, the generals and Sun-Moon-Stars, Sukuna most definitely knew who they were. But you doubt he worries about fighting them, he had no qualms about fighting anyone. He knew himself as the strongest.
“Fine. Where do they move to?”
Yorozu grins like a feline, her eyes nothing short of seductive. Oh, you knew that look on her face — she wanted something in return for her information.
“First. You promised me something.” Sukuna makes a face like he did no such thing. “You promised me that you’d spend time with me. Alone.”
That final word is tacked on with a vicious glance in your direction, aggressive enough to have your own eyebrows raising just a smidgen in surprise. Clearly, the warning Sukuna had growled in her direction just mere moments ago had blown right over her head.
“I promised nothing.” His fingers curl into a fist beneath his chin, propping his head up further so he could sneer down the thickness of his nose at the woman before him. “You mean nothing to me. Why would I devote my time to nothing?”
“And a common whore means something to you?” She spits before she can reign in her tongue, yet she does not back down. Her head held high with a twitch of an eyebrow—she was at her breaking point. You wondered if she too had a cursed technique, she must have if Sukuna had granted her more than one chance to speak to him.
Those long claws sink further into the expensive silk draped over your body, stretching the material until it gives way. He leans forward just slightly, an imperceivable movement but you feel the way he presses closer to you. Keeps you closer. Just out of the corner of your eye, you watch as his upper lip curls into a snarl and the words form on his tongue.
The lower arm of which you were leaning on snakes around your side too, a large hand dipping down until it engulfs the side of your thigh in a possessive grip. You can feel the subtle circles he draws with this thumb, and the way he occasionally drags his hand back and forth as if he were stroking your very skin.
It has your toes curling, your eyes fighting to flutter at the feeling of his hands on your body whilst staring down a woman who wants him so desperately. That heat still simmers from earlier when the two of you had been alone to dress, only growing hotter and hotter with each pass of his fingers along your thigh.
“How dare you speak of my wife like that.”
The entire room stills. Frozen and suspended in time and yet it’s not your cursed energy at work — but rather the words spoken by Sukuna. He doesn’t spit the word like it was a curse, nor does he scowl at the fact he had told a lie about who you are to him. He plays it off as if it were the truth. Why did that make your toes curl once again?
Yorozu sputters. “Wife? Wife?! You–! You said you’d never love someone!”
“I said I’d never love you. You, the lowly street dog from Ainu. You never would’ve served me other than warming my bed before you thicken my broth with your bones.” Sukuna’s voice is a dark rumble in his chest, the grin on his face nothing but pure malice. “Know your place.”
Perhaps it was the shock at the words Sukuna continued to spill at his lips, but you can’t stop yourself from hiding the evident surprise on your features. And Sukuna seems to notice that, as he raises one arm to conveniently block your face with the sleeve of his haori so he can point towards Yorozu.
“Get out of my sight before I mount your head on my wall so you’re forced to watch me fuck my wife.”
Yorozu seems to fight the urge to snarl and snap her jaws at Sukuna, at you, but there’s a drop in temperature in the room. An icy chill that rolls from somewhere, a location you quickly realise is Uraume themselves. The cursed energy they release comes off of them in thick waves, a thick mist starting to coat the floor to bite at the bare ankles of the humiliated woman.
Yorozu leaves soon after, turning on her heel but not before shifting her hateful gaze to you—to stare at you in the eye with a scowl so scathing, you wonder if she had attempted to burn you alive.
The air in the throne room was stifling. A chilling silence that lingered far longer than comfortable, yet Sukuna did nothing to appease said silence and Uraume at least had the decency to resume her post at the bottom of the steps. You, however, weren't sure where to look or how to sit properly.
His wife. That’s what he called you. A title he pinned on you in the face of a woman who wanted nothing more than the four-armed beast still running his fingers up and down your thigh as if he did truly own you – body and soul.
“Uraume,” Sukuna calls finally, snapping the room free from its silence. “Leave us.”
Uraume turns to give a deep bow, their hair shifting with the movement to hide their features. “Yes, my King.” And like that, they were gone in a blink of an eye.
Sukuna handles you off of his lap far too easily, two large hands grabbing at your waist to lift you and place your feet on the floor before he too stands. It’s no surprise that he doesn’t speak a word to you, instead wordlessly expecting you to follow him down the few steps that led away from his throne and out of the room.
You follow — because of course you do. But you’re not entirely sure why, perhaps it was because you felt somewhat safest around him or you simply knew you had no other choice. Not after the failed attempt to kill him once and for all.
He leads you through the neatly cleaned corridors of the temple, tatami flooring swept and kept pristine. You’d think it was home to a Lord of some kind; not a man who had zero qualms about eating another person as if it were the same as eating an apple.
The rooms you pass by are large, but mostly empty save for a few low tables and cushions that appear to be unused for quite some time. It only leads you to wonder who used to live here, before Sukuna had taken ownership. You knew it to be his ancestral temple in a way, this was home to him.
But it was so barren, so large. You wonder if maybe he had plans to fill it one day—maybe with a family of his own or he was just a creature who enjoyed a large space to call his own. The latter seemed more likely.
Eventually, Sukuna stops outside of a large door. It’s different to the others, unpainted with any of the designs that you’d seen on his bedroom door for example. Instead, it’s clean, unassuming, in fact, if you were to walk by it you would’ve missed its very existence.
The room opens up with an easy slide of the shoji door, the smell that comes forth is one you know far too well. Old books. It has your nose wrinkling momentarily, stepping into the room that seems to come to life the second Sukuna steps a foot inside too. The lanterns along the walls all flicker to life, illuminating one by one until you realise you’re standing in a library.
A very extensive library.
There were tall wooden bookcases reaching to the ceiling of the room, and each of them was filled with a variety of things. Scrolls that were stacked atop each other, poorly bound books that looked as old as time itself and stacks of loose papers that seemed to be in a certain order.
It put the small collection you destroyed in Sukuna’s room to shame, what was in there was nothing in comparison to this. This alone looked like it took years upon years to gather, stock up and organise. Was this the reason why Sukuna was so well-versed in all things political and cursed energy-related? He had all of the knowledge he could need at hand.
Sukuna doesn’t stop you when you squeeze yourself out from behind him and into the open room, hardly offering you a second glance as he disappears further into the room to search for something. You can only turn on the spot to truly take in everything, this was far more than you ever expected.
It may even beat the impressive library you’d seen in the Emperor’s Palace as a child.
Noting Sukuna hadn’t beckoned you to follow him, you decide to meander around for yourself. With careful steps, you begin to walk down a long aisle of bookcases. Some of them were unlabelled, simply put there by someone who knew what it was and where to find it when the time called for it. But some did have titles crudely painted and carved into the cover of books.
All history books so far. Asuka Period. Nara Period. You stop once your eyes find the title; Heian Period. No doubt it’d be incomplete, but you wondered just what had been documented so far. So much had happened in a short amount of time since the end of the Nara Period, something your father had often lectured you on as did your teacher.
You pluck it from the shelf, the wave of dust itches at your nose and the tips of your fingers. You can’t help but grimace as it stains your pristine outfit with little specks of grey. The book itself was thick, but you could tell that most of the pages were empty; waiting to be filled in by whoever would ensure the future generations knew what had occurred.
The start of the book is something you’d already learned previously; the movement of the Emperor and how he claimed the capital of Japan. Nothing was out of the ordinary there, but the further you began to read into it… the more you realised it was filled with blatant lies or simply nothing at all.
You stop when you see your father's name written across the page in black ink, his full imperial title. It states his death, but not the cause. Simply that your uncle had transcended to the position of Shogun in the wake of his death. None of this was surprising, but rather it was the history of your father that has you stalling.
You knew him as a man of great peace and understanding, even if he was a hardened warrior. He wanted peace like no other, a world where he didn’t have to worry for the safety of his children—the safety of you. But here it states you did not exist. A Shogun with a deceased wife and no children, no heirs. Nothing. You were wiped clean of the history slate as if you weren’t anyone or anything at all.
Was this the Emperor’s doing? Did he hold sway over the historians who documented everything? Or was it your Uncle, the underlying fear that his brother's daughter would come back with a vengeance and seize the title from him?
“Does it bother you that they wrote you off as nothing?” Sukuna’s voice is much too close. It can’t be helped when you practically jump out of your skin, fingers fumbling to make sure you don’t drop the book–or worse, swing it at the man who approached you with a trained silence.
“It does, doesn’t it? That Samurai pride of yours… No, not just that. The insufferable pride of the Zen’in clan still can’t be snuffed out even in the rejects of the family.” His words are mean, as they always are but something tells you that he isn’t coming completely from a place of total malice and hate—he’s simply telling you what you already know.
But you don’t let him know that you’re aware of the truth he speaks.
“No.” You speak with every ounce of self-confidence you can muster, hunkering down on the tone you had often heard your very father speak in— “No. What bothers me is you daring to claim me as your wife, in front of a woman who pines for you no less.”
His presence behind you remains close, but you can tell he’s standing once again at his full height. So you turn to him once you replace the book on the shelf, and he’s staring down at you with an indifferent look on his features; he doesn’t care for your insolence or tone that you take with him it would seem.
“You used me to make that woman jealous. Didn’t you? Dressed me up as some sort of bride and then splayed me on your lap like a prized house cat. How dare you.”
Sukuna stares at you for a tense long moment, maybe it was only a few seconds in reality but he stares at you like he would if you were a battle, a conquest that he’s figuring out how to conquer.
“Your tongue lashes with such poison and yet,” he leans in much too close, forcing your back to press into the wooden bookcase behind you. “Yet… I can smell just what it did to you, what it still does to you.”
He cages you effortlessly, large hands pressing against the shelves on either side of you to lock you into place as he lowers his face down until he is level with your own. His eyes are all directed at you, watching with such scrutiny that you can feel him just beneath your skin; searching your very soul.
“You’re lying.” You can only breathe in return, even on your tongue you can taste your very own lie. You knew, deep down, that he was telling you the truth — he could smell your arousal, and that thought alone was electrifying in its own way.
“Only one of us is a liar presently.” He heaves in a heavy breath through his nose as if to prove his point, and you have a front-row view of his eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head whilst his pupils dilate just enough to nearly swallow the violent crimson of his eyes.
Your heart thunders in your chest, batters against your very rib cage because he’s right. You’re lying to yourself. It had made something in your stomach churn pleasantly when he had openly laid a claim to you like that, to call you his wife in front of not just Yorozu but his right-hand Uraume… it thrilled you to no end.
But you knew. You knew Sukuna didn’t believe in things such as marriage, or even love. It was foolish to believe for a second that he meant it as anything but a way to get rid of a headache that continued to pester him for his time. Another means to an end; that’s what your first ‘marriage’ was. A powerful pawn in the hands of a selfish man.
Sukuna hums quietly to himself, reaching up a hand used to brutalise men and women without a second thought. He brushes a large thumb over the apple of your cheek, rolling it down until he meets your jawline. You feel the wetness smudge beneath the pad of his finger — you hadn’t even realised you were crying.
“I’ve always thought you were such a beautiful crier. You cried too the night you were meant to die, and I thought to myself… no woman had ever looked more beautiful than you did. With blood on your throat, and in the cracks of your teeth… crying.” It’s perverse, yet it has your eyelashes fluttering when he makes another pass of his thumb to swipe at your falling tears.
He leans in once again, his hand slipping away from your cheek to encase itself around your throat. His fingers squeeze gently, an impulsive reflex you think when his lips are within reach of your own. His lower set of eyes are nearly shut completely, whilst he looks at you through thick eyelashes with the other pair.
It’s intoxicating to be this close to him, a mixture of fear and arousal that blend so perfectly together you can’t tell one from the other. He could tear your very throat out in the blink of an eye, slice you into a million pieces and you’d never be found again. But he holds you with a sense of gentleness, his thumb making the barest of movements just beneath the corner of your jaw.
You expect him to lean in to kiss you, to give in to that primal instinct to press against another human being but instead, his lips brush away from your own. They find home against your cheek, before he ever so slowly drags his tongue up along the tear tracks.
He angles his head after his tongue follows along that watery path, until his lips brush against the shell of your ear. His breath is warm when his lips part, “You’d never be nothing with me.”
It’s sinful how easily he can drop the harshness of his voice, how he can soothe out the deep ridges until his voice is nothing but a rumbling purr. It takes great strength on your part to not let your eyes flutter closed and to part your lips to tell him just how much you enjoyed when he spoke to you like that.
“Is that what you want? To be something, to be someone?” Another deep inhale through his nose, no doubt savouring the scent of your apparent arousal. “With me, you could be so much more than just someone.”
“How?” Your own voice is nothing but a whisper, but Sukuna hears you as clear as day. His face breaks into that feline-like smile, brushing his lips against the lobe of your ear before he rounds back around to look you in the eye.
“You’ve already given part of yourself to me, but the rest… give me the rest of you.”
Your blood roars in your ears, screams at you to refuse to fall for another one of his deals—a bargain with the devil himself. But the way his fingers drag down from their place at your throat, gently prying apart your carefully planned outfit until the tips of those fingers brush over your collarbone. It’s impossible to listen to anything but your desire; a desire for more.
It was simple human nature. To want to become something more, to make a mark on the world that had been designed to oppress you as a woman – you wanted to be the reason why men feared your name, why they put you in the history books simply because you were someone. He was offering you power, plain and simple.
You have to wet your lips to get your words to roll from your tongue, and Sukuna looks far too pleased with the effect he’s having on your body. “I don’t—How?” You repeat yourself.
“A Binding vow.” He replies predictably, and his grin grows more wolfish when he sees the recollection dawn on your face. You couldn’t get out of the vow even if you tried once the terms were set. “I promise it won’t be as complicated as the first.”
Those same fingers that were pushing your kimono apart succeed, it falls limply to rest atop your breasts. You expect him to pry it open further but he doesn’t, instead his eyes shift away from your own to settle on the centre of your chest. His fingers brush slowly, gently, along the area as if he were caressing your heart directly.
“Give me your heart.” It comes from his mouth so easily, as if he hadn’t asked for the one thing that keeps you alive. It makes your skin sweaty beneath his touch, hairs rising on the back of your neck as if your brain finally caught up with the fact you’re pinned uselessly beneath a great beast. “And you will have mine. That’s the vow.”
“That’s it?” It seemed far too simple, far too vague that it seemed almost like a joke. Like he was playing on your emotions. “How does killing me give me what I want?”
“I don’t mean literally giving me your heart. Not yet, anyway.” He breathes with a grin, his fingers pressing harder against the softness of your chest until his claws start to dig into the flesh. “Binding the heart should theoretically tie you to my own lifeline, you’d have access to unimaginable strength.”
“Theoretically?” You huff in part amusement and part disbelief, he wanted you to hand over your heart—metaphorically—based on a theory? “You want my heart based on… what, some story written by a monk gone mad?”
Those same claws still on your chest for a moment, but they don’t remove themselves from how they’re embedded in your chest; poised to rip out your beating heart. He instead drags his eyes back up to meet your own, that smile on his face is nothing short of bad intentions.
“What, scared? Where’s that samurai warrior spirit of yours? You had no fear when you tried to cut my head off, twice.” He’s still so close that he speaks the words practically into your mouth. You know he’s trying to coax you into giving him what he wants, you know that, but… it was so easy to let your guard slip until you were intoxicated on everything that was Ryomen Sukuna.
He must see it visibly slip on your face as his smile grows ever-larger, more devious and that hand on your chest splays out wide. The palm of his large hand settles wholly over your heart, even pressing a little harder to feel the rapid thumping of it against his own flesh.
“Well?”
“...I agree.”
He swallows your agreement just as it leaves your lips, his own mouth working against your own whilst his hand presses harder and harder against your chest—until it feels like he’s about to pass his hand right through your body. It burns under his palm, hotter than anything you’ve ever felt before. But you have felt it before, in the hot spring.
Sukuna brands your skin so effortlessly, binds your body to his own with a simple press of his cursed energy. Yet your body feels no different, you don’t feel the ‘unimaginable strength’ Sukuna had theorised about. You feel nothing but the pass of his tongue into your mouth, the tip of it running over the roof of your mouth until he flicks it against your teeth.
He pulls back, mercifully, as your breath grows shorter. He stares down at you intensely, his palm still pressed against your chest. You want to know what’s running through his mind when he stares at you like that, a look that’s calculating yet so disarming.
But instead, there’s a shift of movement and you’re hoisted into the air. Much too high for your liking. Your thighs squeeze around his midsection, and you’re forced to press your hands against his broad shoulders. Sukuna holds you above him, his head tilted back to look at you in a different light – and here you start to understand the look in his eye. Admiration.
“A normal person would’ve died…” He starts, but stops short of finishing his sentence completely. Instead, he draws you impossibly closer to his body, two large hands gripping your thighs whilst the other two hold your waist so delicately.
His words should worry you. His theory was based on the fact that most, if not all, people died at the very notion of binding your heart to another. But instead, you find yourself speechless, staring down at him tips the power scale over. You feel awfully out of place above him like this, his eyes have a different glimmer to them when he’s forced to stare up at you.
You can’t stop your hands from leaving his shoulders to cup his face, your hands seem tiny on either side of his jaw that flexes at the contact. You drag your thumb along the black tattoos along his jaw, tracing them until you have to repeat the gesture over–and over–...
His lips mirror the softness of your own easily enough, he doesn’t force his tongue into your mouth as he had so many times before. Rather, he simply lets you guide the kiss, gently and smoothly. Your body is forced to hunch down to reach his, and he aids you with a hand splayed across the small of your back to keep you steady.
One of your hands slips away from his jaw, hooking your arm loosely around his neck to run your fingers up along the nape of his neck, through the shortened hairs there until you can glide your fingers through the longer pink strands of hair. His chest rumbles between your thighs, a deep sound that resembles something so oddly familiar—
The sound grows louder with each pass of your nails against his scalp, up and back down to scratch at the nape of his neck. It’s only then that you realise the rumble is more like a deep vibration, a purr. Your toes curl against the corded muscles of his back at that sound alone, the press of his midsection between your thighs doesn’t help either.
It doesn’t take very long for the kiss to devolve into a slick mess, his insatiable greed for more growing far too large to ignore. He guides your tongue in a sensual dance, one that has your core aching with the memory of what that second tongue had done between your thighs not even a single night ago.
Suddenly, you’re pulled away from the bookcase he had cornered you against. The movement doesn’t break his concentration on your lips, each of his steps are with purpose. His gait doesn’t falter either when he begins to lower himself down onto his knees, those large hands holding you steadfast to ensure his time with your mouth isn’t cut short.
The way he handles you is entirely different to how he had the previous night. Last night was filled with adrenaline-fuelled lust, rough grabbing hands that took and took until there was nothing left to give. But now, he handles you with a delicacy you’d see reserved for loved ones.
His hands don’t leave your waist when he lays you flat on your back on the softer tatami mat made for sitting and reading on. Instead, he holds you much tighter, like he expects you to wriggle out from beneath him at any second. Though you don’t plan on that any time soon, not when his lips finally break away from your own to press themselves in long passes against your jaw and the hollow of your throat.
The Uchikake slips away from your shoulders, giving him better access to start pulling and tugging in the right places until your kimono unravels entirely from your body. It falls limply at your sides, revealing your bare front to the prying eyes that do a slow sweep up and down your body. The hands at your waist smooth up the expanse of your hips, up along your rib cage until he rests his thumbs just beneath your breasts.
His eyes slip up along the length of your chest, lingering for just a moment on your breasts before he meets your own gaze. That carnal lust for blood has been replaced by nothing but pure desire, it leaks into his eyes until his pupils are dilated and locked onto yours. He looks like a predator who just found his prey.
The length of his tongue is hot against your nipple, the black of his tattoo such a stark contrast to the pink of his tongue as it contorts to swirl around the hardening nipple before he sucks it into his mouth without shame. All whilst he maintains that heedy eye contact, making sure you watch him thoroughly enjoy your body; the body you’ve just given to him so willingly under the guise of a binding vow.
Thankfully, he isn’t forgetful. A hand comes up along your right side, pressing into your skin to feel each and every bump of your ribs beneath the skin that he could shred so easily. His hand comes up to cup the entirety of your breast in one large palm, fingers stretching and then squeezing tightly as if to get a true grasp of just what he was holding.
It’s a painful grasp but it soon bleeds into pleasure when he pinches the stiff peak of your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it until you’re forced to breathe out your pleasure.
The sound that escapes your mouth seems to be what Sukuna was waiting for, his own groan is muffled against the flesh of your breast but it vibrates against your nipple nonetheless. Your hips buck up at the feeling, and in turn, Sukuna presses his own body harder against your own — pinning you beneath him, keeping you still so he could perform his ministrations against your body without interruption.
He continues to twist the tip of his tongue around your nipple, sucking it further into his mouth until you’re sure it’s going to leave a painful bruise in its wake. But then he switches to the other, giving it the exact same treatment whilst his fingers now play with the abused flesh of the nipple dripping in his spit.
Sukuna doesn’t linger much longer on your nipples, instead ducking down to latch his teeth into the fleshy part of your underboob and it’s enough to pull a pained hiss from you. You can feel his lips curl into a triumphant grin at the fact he was able to pull a sound from you and not fight the repercussions.
The path he marks down your body is a tantalising mixture of pain and pleasure, his teeth sink into the fleshier parts of your body – only to be soothed over by the thickness of his tongue. You watch him as he lowers further and further down, his upper set of arms stretched up just slightly so he can continue to pinch at your nipples.
He holds your eyes with his own, settling just at the apex of your thighs and here you can feel the billowing heavy breaths being pushed from his nose. It makes your toes curl and thighs rub together in an attempt to stave off the pressure between your legs. Sukuna of course doesn’t miss the movement, his tongue flicks out to run over his upper lip. He looked as if he were about to devour a meal.
The spare pair of hands come to your outer thighs, easily pressing his fingers into the flesh to manoeuvre them up and over his shoulders once he settles himself on his stomach between your thighs. It’s an odd sight; to see a man as gigantic as Sukuna on his stomach, between your thighs of all places.
Part of you expects him to dive straight into it, he spreads your legs so wide on his broad shoulders that you don’t doubt he can see everything on display. That alone has heat burning at the tips of your ears and buzzing in the apple of your cheeks, it’s entirely different from the previous time he had been between your legs.
It felt different when he used the tongue at his stomach, almost like that was just a way to prepare him for you but this…—it was beyond intimate. A man willing to lay down on his stomach in such a vulnerable position just for the purpose of pleasuring you was mind-numbingly attractive.
Those hands that had been pinching and squeezing at your breasts have meandered their way down to your thighs, easily wrapping themselves around the meat of your thigh to lock you into place whilst the bottom set of hands pry you open. Now that has you squirming, you can feel the wet heat of your desire leaking down to stain the pristine white fabric of your kimono that had been turned into a temporary blanket.
You want to look away from him, to divert your gaze away from the downright filthy look in his own. He doesn’t break away, not once, not when his jaw works for a moment before he spits against your clit. Your thighs tense, your hips jumping up at the contact of the significantly cooler liquid against the molten warmth of your pussy.
Then. Then, he graces you with the length of his tongue. It presses against you, the tip of it dipping between your spread folds to then drag its way up until it teasingly flicks against your clit. Again, you jolt from the pleasure. It was most definitely different from the tongue in his stomach, that one was much too big – made purely to ensure you were dripping wet before he took you.
But this tongue… the skilled tongue that had spat threats so easily, and had been the home of smug words and arrogance like no other. It was working you to completion much quicker than ever before. Sukuna must realise it too, noticing the sudden rush of arousal that graces his tongue and lips because he locks his arms tighter around your thighs. And then, he truly devours his meal.
Long gone are the gentle, slow passes of his tongue. Each pass of his tongue is aggressive in a way that has your toes curling into his back and the heel of your feet dragging along the tattooed flesh there. His lips are unforgiving when they latch themselves to your clit, those teeth that you’d seen rip through flesh graze teasingly against the sensitive nub there until your fingers find a home in his hair.
When you pull, he groans. A low, deep rich sound that has your eyes rolling into the back of your head. He sounds like a wounded animal, like he’s teetering on the edge of his own bliss with each clamping pull of your hand in his hair. He doesn’t give up on the quick passes of his tongue over your clit, nor does he stop drooling against your pussy as if you were the most delicious thing he had ever tasted.
You jerk beneath his ministrations once again, and your fingers tighten on his hair. Holding him in place as you ride the start of your orgasm against his tongue, Sukuna looks like he’s lost in his own world—one that contains only you and him in this very moment. His eyes are half-lidded yet you can see the unbridled lust there, something so humanly wanton that it makes your thighs twitch.
Then it washes over you. You feel a tug in your chest, a pooling of vicious lust in your stomach and with a moan of his name, a breathy “Ryomen!”, you cum on his tongue. He holds you in place thankfully, your hips jumping uncontrollably because his nose continues to press against your clit with each deep press of his tongue into your still throbbing walls.
Sukuna finally pulls himself away from the salvation he found between your thighs, the bottom half of his face and part of his cheeks are drenched. A shiny clear sheen of your very obvious arousal, and he grins. All sharp teeth and dark intentions on display, his eyes glitter with the fact he had you come undone on his face so quickly—so easily.
He then crawls back up the length of your body, slow movements that pull his muscles perfectly. He’s the very image of an apex predator, and you find yourself slipping far too easily into the role of his unlucky prey. Your legs spread once again for him with the help of his own thighs spreading you wider, he’s fully dressed yet you can feel the heavy press of his twin cocks.
A hand comes up to your face, a curled index finger stroking along the soft skin beneath your eye and down towards your temple, wiping away the stray tears that had come loose in the height of your orgasm. “You’re beautiful when you cum.” He says it nonchalantly like it’s a fact more than a compliment, yet it still has your heart pumping faster and arousal spiking.
The kiss he lays against your lips is undoubtedly soft, far too soft for the man you know him as and it’s so fleeting that you’re left wondering if it truly even happened. His mouth instead finds a home against your neck, panting breaths pressed against the scarred flesh there from the previous times he tore you apart, just to piece you together again with his very own hand.
He settles his weight between your legs, forcing your thighs to spread impossibly wider to accommodate him. But instead of resting there for much longer, his hands grab at your waist and thighs. The world shifts around you, a blur of movement and a thump of a body against the floor — all to reveal Sukuna now splayed out beneath you.
His hands stroke gently up along the bareness of your thighs, and slowly back down to stroke the soft skin at your knees. He still looks impossibly big even beneath you, but it makes your heart seize in your chest. He put you in a place of power, a seat of dominance on his very lap; all with a lazy smile on his face.
“It’s an equal exchange,” he explains when he sees the thoughts flit behind your eyes. “I take from you, and you take from me.”
Right. The Binding Vow. The reason why your chest still burns with an idle ache that feels familiar to the one at your wrist. Instead of answering him, you look down at your own body, noting the numerous bite marks embedded into your skin. Your fingers brush along each of them until you halt at the centre of your chest, right between your breasts—
There’s a new tattoo. It’s different to the band around your wrist, instead, it’s two curved lines separated with a smaller tear-drop line in the middle, shaped like a trident. The long lines curve with your breasts, the teardrop resting just over the centre of your heart.
Your fingers brush over it briefly, there’s an aching sting beneath the fresh ink that blossomed on your skin. It’s tiny compared to the one you’ve seen on Sukuna’s body, on his tongue. You want to know what the symbols mean to him, each of them must hold a different reason for their shape and placement.
“You suit them,” Sukuna supplies after a moment of watching you trace over the trident-like shape on your chest, and your eyes drift back up to meet his. That lust is still there but it’s softened into a gentler, more welcoming red.
“I don’t think I’d suit the face tattoos.” You admit, and he arches an eyebrow in amusement at your words.
“No? You dislike them?” His claws playfully drag down along the flesh of your thighs, earning him a full-body shiver which inevitably causes his cocks to twitch from where they’re trapped against your still wet-heat between your thighs.
Your laugh causes his own lips to turn into a smooth smile, his eyes tracking the movement when you shake your head. “Always putting words in my mouth,” you lean forward, planting your hands on his chest and inwardly mourning the fact he was still wearing his own kimono. “I just think you look much better with them. Fearsome.”
His eyebrow remains raised in feigned disbelief, perhaps even faked hurt. “Just fearsome? I bathe you in compliments, and in return I get fearsome?”
You lean ever closer, brushing your nose playfully against his and he returns the motion but a little more harsher. It’s an odd air that’s settled over the both of you, maybe it was the binding vow still setting in. You had handed him your very heart, and you were still due to take his. It’s not an unenjoyable air however, if anything, it’s the happiest you’ve felt in a very long time.
“Handsome. Ruthless. Regal.” Each word is breathed between kisses along the thick line of the tattoo along his jaw until you’re nestled next to his ear. “Does that satisfy you, or do you want me to stroke your ego some more?”
A buck of his hips has your newfound confidence wavering, a tumbling moan falling from your lips and gracing his ear. His hands grasp tightly at your hips whilst a large palm smoothes over the expanse of your ass, grabbing and squeezing — only to smack you with enough force to spring tears to your eyes.
“Careful.” He blows the word against your own ear, nuzzling the tip of his nose against your earlobe before laying a kiss just beneath.
As if remembering just the hold you have over him at the moment, you lean out of the biting range of that wandering mouth. He nearly snarls at the fact you pull away, until you start to tug at the obi belt of his kimono. Undoing all the layering until his chest is laid bare for you. You trace your own finger along the expanse of the lines that mar his chest there, down the chunk-like squares until your hand presses over his own heart.
Sukuna at least lifts his hips to help you push down his Hakama and free him completely from the confines of the materials you had dressed him only a short while ago. He relaxes further with the skin-to-skin contact, yet those cocks between your thighs twitch impatiently; drooling against his defined muscles.
He holds your gaze when you plant a hand on his stomach, lifting your own hips to guide a hand between them and take hold of one of the thick cocks waiting for attention. You leave the upper one untouched, and he grunts at the realisation you won’t be taking both—not yet, anyway.
The tip of his cock grazes against your still-sensitive clit, and glides through the sticky mess between your lips. You’d only grown more and more wet for him as you found yourself atop of him, and you don’t doubt that you could take him… with a bit of a struggle.
Sukuna schools his features well but you don’t miss the swell of his chest when he sucks in a breath, your entrance swallows the tip of his cock greedily and that alone has a stinging burn pinching at your walls. But you preserve, you push through inch by inch until you’re seated on his thighs with his heavy balls resting at the curve of your ass.
You clench involuntarily, and finally, the mask slips away from Sukuna’s face. He groans, without shame, kiss-bruised lips parting to relieve him of the pleasure he was trying to keep to himself. His hands are clamped to your hips, holding you in place just to give him a second to breathe — to recalibrate his brain and try to focus on anything but just how tight and warm your pussy was.
“Even after nearly stuffing you with two cocks, you’re still so fucking tight.” He hisses, sharp fangs on display when he grits his teeth to give a tentative roll of his hips up into you.
Your thighs tense, walls throbbing around his length and the pretty moan pulled from your lips is complimented by his own rumbling groan. On instinct your own hips grind back, your clit catching against the underside of his unattended cock and those long black claws finally sink into your flesh.
It feels too good. Far too good, and you’ve not even moved yet—not properly. You want to ride him, to sit atop of him and watch him unravel whilst nestled beneath you. But it’s becoming increasingly hard to think when you feel the tip of his cock that’s buried deep inside of you twitch against that one spongy spot deep inside of you.
So you distract yourself, momentarily. Your hand slides away from his stomach and wraps around the weeping cock against his pelvis, Sukuna jerks at the motion as if he hadn’t expected you to take care of both. Your fingers don’t reach around the girth of him, but you squeeze nevertheless.
His cock is dripping with your arousal from when you had been seated atop of him, you had been turned on for him so much so that it had leaked through his pants. Your hand glides easily up and down, twisting gently at the tip of his cock to roll your thumb over the slit there before spreading the mixture of your slick and his pre-cum down along his length.
Sukuna all but groans prettily at the way you handle him, head thunking back against the floor when he finally, finally, relinquishes control to you. You give another grind of your hips and the pinching burn there has started to bleed away into undeniable pleasure, so you shift a little atop of him.
As if realising what you were about to do, Sukuna places his hands just beneath your thighs. Not to control you, but to simply guide you, support you, if you needed it. The first bounce is awfully loud and sticky, your pussy greedily sucking his cock back in when you drop down to his hips.
Your hand slackens a little around the cock still leaking near his belly button, so a large hand engulfs your own and starts to move your hand up and down a little more aggressively — so not totally out of control, but you can’t complain when he nudges his hips slightly to meet your bounces.
His cock presses beautifully against that spot deep inside of you repeatedly, each bounce and drop in gravity hammering the mushroomed head of his cock against it until your stomach coils painfully. Your impending orgasm makes itself suddenly known, and this one feels much more intense than the others. A pressure in your lower stomach that has your jaw slackening to moan without any shame.
Sukuna watches you through thick lashes, biting down on his lip to stop himself from growling or moaning, perhaps even both. Those hands beneath your thighs have started to slowly shift up until they rest at your hips, and a hand smooths itself over your lower back. And it’s a very subtle warning for what's to come.
A man like Sukuna is undoubtedly strong, made of muscles that were purely for ripping and shredding through people with ease. So it’s hardly a surprise when he bucks up into your hard, enough to plant his feet squarely on the floor before he fucks into you like he’d never get a chance to fuck you again.
You can only squish your chest to his own to save yourself from slamming into him, and his hand on the lower portion of your back holds you there. Pins you to him in a vulnerable position whilst his hips work to thrust his cock hard and deep into your velvety core.
A surprised moan mixed with a yelp is torn from your throat when a hand smooths itself down over your ass before pressing rather unceremoniously into the tight ring of muscle there, it’s not an unwelcome feeling but it still has you panting open-mouthed against the thick muscle of his chest.
The orgasm that was building erupts far too quickly, and all you can do is gasp against his chest with a breathless “‘M gonna— gonna cum, please, please—” You don’t specify what you’re begging for, but Sukuna knows exactly what you’re pleading for.
So he doesn’t let up on the fast and aggressive pace of his hips, snarling into your ear when you clench repeatedly around the length of his cock. The juices that drip from your abused pussy soak him entirely, ruining the material that had gathered beneath the both of you and it only aids in making the slapping noise of his balls against your ass even louder.
His hips only begin to slow once he’s rung out your orgasm until you’re oversensitive, flinching with each pass of his cock against your swollen walls. He lets you settle atop of him, his cock still buried deep inside of you and throbbing with the need to release but he holds himself back, and staves off his own climax.
You nearly purr when a hand finds itself in your hair, long claws scratching delicately at the sweaty scalp there until you’re ready to continue. The twitch of his cock pressed between his stomach and your own has your toes curling, and that small coil in your stomach twists with delight at the fact you’re still not finished.
That hand drifts away from your hair once you reposition yourself atop of him, your hands dragging along the smooth expanse of his chest to settle at his stomach. His body gleams with a sheen coat of sweat, and his lungs expand harshly with each breath he sucks in. It seems fucking you through an explosive orgasm so aggressively took it out of him.
“You’re beautiful,” you find the words slip from your lips so easily, and Sukuna can’t stop the surprise crossing his features. Beautiful, no doubt a word that has never been used to describe him. But you mean it. He looks awfully angelic like this, in a twisted way when a quiet voice whispers in the back of your mind about the atrocities he’s committed.
Yet it’s very easy to ignore that voice, to push it down and silence it. His hair is slicked back with sweat, yet tendrils of it curl around his ears and at the nape of his neck – sticking to the sweat there that continues to roll down his skin in droplets. His eyes are somewhat satiated as if seeing you reach bliss twice was enough for him for the day. His lips are set in a soft line, relaxed.
Truly beautiful.
He parts his lips to speak, maybe even to retort your compliment but you silence the words on his tongue by lifting up from his lap. His cock slips free from your swollen pussy, and it’s enough to make the both of you hiss in tandem.
“Done already?” He questions, a tint of his voice sounding almost disappointed at being left high and dry. Though, you don’t say a thing when you shift your body up onto your knees so you’re hovering over not just the one cock, but the both of them.
As if realising what you were planning, Sukuna wraps a hand around the girth of both of his cocks to help you when you start to lower yourself on both of the tips. Even after the mind-blowing orgasm, it’s still a very tight squeeze. Your face scrunches with the blossoming pain, and you know you should slow down. But that incessant tugging in your heart has your body overpowering your brain, and you lower yourself down… and down.
You only let out a heavy breath when you feel his thighs brush against the inner part of your own, and Sukuna grips your hips much more harshly compared to before. The whooshing of blood in your head is much too loud, and it only makes you feel like your head is submerged beneath water.
“Look at me.” A command, and you obey it wordlessly. You meet Sukuna’s gaze, and he’s staring at you with more care than you’ve ever witnessed. Your heart squeezes again in your chest, and you’re only now realising that it feels like a hand is wrapped around your very heart.
Your own fingers glide along the sweaty expanse of his chest, pressing into the muscle there until you locate the exact position of his heart in his chest. It beats so heavily beneath his skin, thumping against your palm as if it yearns to break free and be held by your gentle hold.
“How do I do it?” You ask in a breathless whisper, you hadn’t made a mutual contract like this before. You simply agreed to lend him your strength when he asked for it, but this time he had offered his own heart to you in exchange.
“Just take it, it’s yours.” He lays his head back against the floor, eyes staring down the bridge of his nose to stare at you. He offers no further guidance, nothing to help you with figuring out how to take a man's heart—figuratively.
He made it seem so simple, as easy as laying his hand against your own chest and wrapping his cursed energy around your heart until it beat for him, and only him. So you follow in his footsteps, your own nails dig into the muscle of his pectoral muscles and he at least notes the discomfort of you digging harshly enough to draw blood.
You feel the tug in your own chest, his cursed energy squirms in your very body until it seizes around your heart and holds it still. Then you force your mind to focus on your own cursed energy, you let it wrap around his own that nestles itself tighter around your heart until the two become one.
It snakes down your veins, from your fingertips and inevitably into his chest. It burns your palm when you press harder, ensuring that the vow is made successfully. Sukuna’s upper lip twitches in discomfort, yet he does not stop you from completing it.
Your hips twitch involuntarily when you feel the familiar embrace of that dark energy that he exudes, it welcomes you so easily. It wraps its cold arms around you and digs into your flesh, pulling you further and further in until you can sense nothing but the man beneath you.
“Take it.” Sukuna hisses through gritted teeth, and you do. You clamp down on his heart, your cursed energy snaps violently into place and Sukuna jerks at the sudden burst of it in his chest. His hands grip your hips harshly, tearing into the flesh without a care in the world and you yourself can’t find it within you to care about the blood that spills from your hips.
Instead, you gasp in his hold, overcome with such an intense feeling of undeniable power. Strength beyond comprehension. Its dark tendrils slither beneath your skin, nestling themselves around your bones until they become a part of you. It doesn’t stop until you accept it, fully.
Something snaps into place and you blink back into reality to find Sukuna staring at you with a wide-eyed expression, something that makes him look so much younger than he really is. You feel his heartbeat beneath the palm of your hand, and it matches the pounding in your ears.
He moves you effortlessly until you’re beneath him, not once breaking his eyes away from you — staring at you as if he’s never quite seen you before. The power that bleeds from him is familiar, it’s welcoming, it’s your own.
The binding vow was complete.
He crowds you into the floor, two large arms caging either side of your head when he hunches down over you. The other arms work to lift your hips up to meet his own, wrapping your legs higher up around his waist before he starts to thrust into you, slowly… as if testing the waters.
The moan that’s punched out of you sounds wounded, not because you were sore from being stretched around two cocks but because your pleasure seems heightened beyond belief. You can feel everything and then some.
One of those hands holding up his weight moves, cupping the side of your face. It always amazed you just how well he manoeuvred himself despite how large of a man he was, he wasn’t as nimble as some but he most definitely moved with a certain type of grace that was undoubtedly him.
His thumb swoops down, pressing just beneath your jaw and tilts your head up slightly to meet his own. The kiss he devours you with is nothing short of consuming, he isn’t gentle with how he keeps his lips pressed tightly to yours when his hips roll once–twice, and then he’s fucking you at a rhythm that has your toes curling sharply.
The coil that had lain dormant in your stomach suddenly sparks back to life, it curls tight in your lower stomach until your thighs seize up and you’re left to clamp around the two sizable cocks shoved deep inside of you. Sukuna groans at that, a shuddering sound that’s expelled against your lips before he returns to your mouth.
His tongue pries you open easily enough, and his tongue is unyielding as he laps at you. Two hands flex at your thighs, long fingers digging into the flesh behind your knees to effortlessly fold you further into the mating press—you can’t help but gasp into his lips, pushing out the last of your breath into his panting mouth.
“Mine,” Sukuna snarls like some feral beast, sharp canines glinting in the shimmering flame from the lanterns dotted around the room. It’s so primal, the way he takes you, the way he folds you nearly in half just to fuck himself deeper into you; to ensure you feel every last inch of him. “Say it.”
He gives a particularly hard thrust with the last word, gritting his teeth at just how tightly you clamp down around him. The hand at your jaw slips down, taking hold of your throat so easily and pinning you to the floor beneath him. He pulls back just slightly, enough so that you can see his face entirely — can see just how much you affect him.
Your answer doesn’t come quick enough, however, as he rolls his hip back smoothly only to fuck into you with much more vigour. The rhythmic wet slapping sound contests against your choked moans, you can feel each time his balls slap against your ass; how heavy they are.
“‘M yours—” You manage to choke past the squeezing of his hand at your throat, the wild glint in his eye is dangerous. A look that you’ve seen before, right before he struck with the goal to kill. “Yours! Yours—fuck!”
Sukuna chuckles breathlessly, sounding no better than yourself. He looks absolutely ruined, sweat dripping along the side of his face, at the back of his neck and along his chest. He looks positively divine, something you want to sink your teeth into. That realisation has you clamping down suddenly, pulling a shameless moan from the man above you.
You’re so close, so fucking close that you can taste it on your tongue. Sukuna can feel it too, his gaze locking with your own before he shifts just slightly onto his knees. And then when he’s truly above you, does he start fucking into you at a much deeper angle. The tip of his cock drags heavily along your g-spot whilst simultaneously ramming itself against your cervix—it’s painful.
But a type of pain that has your toes curling mercilessly, your hand grasps uselessly at the arm closest to you, the one holding you beneath him. You slip your spare hand down along your body, taking advantage of the small gap he’s granted you by wanting to watch you come undone entirely.
Your fingers slip through the mess of curls below, you’re absolutely drenched—beyond wet, a type of wetness that only Sukuna is evidently able to pull from you. You find your clit, swollen and so sensitive that you flinch at the brief contact from your fingers.
Sukuna seems to notice too, his lower set of eyes drifting down to see the way you touch yourself whilst he fucks you with both his cocks. His mouth opens in a wordless groan. You can feel the slickness gathering there when you brush your fingers down along your pussy, to brush your fingers against the sides of his cocks as he continues to fuck you.
It grows increasingly difficult to smoothly roll your fingers over your clit, the stickiness causing your fingers to slip too quickly—sometimes moving away from your clit entirely when Sukuna gives a particularly rough thrust of his hips. He’s fucking you like he needs you to cum, like if you don’t then surely his heart might give out.
Meeting Sukuna’s gaze again, you can’t stop the way you clench around him and in return, Sukuna bares his teeth at you. It’s non-threatening, not quite as lethal as the previous times he did it in the past. Instead, it sends heat shooting down your spine, flaring up in your stomach and it’s impossible to stop the orgasm the second you register it happening.
You moan, head flung back against the tatami mat with a dull thud and your entire body tenses up. The growl that comes from Sukuna is guttural, a deep sound that you can feel vibrate through your very own body from just how loud it is.
His fingers tighten around your throat, and with a gasping breath, you call for him. “Ryomen,” you flinch at the sensitivity of your clit when he throws his hips harsher against your own. “Ryomen, please, please—”
You may not know what you’re begging for exactly, but Sukuna seems to pick up on it flawlessly. His body surges forward, the width of his shoulders hiding you completely beneath him before his lips clash with your own. It’s not much of a kiss with the both of you panting in the other's mouth, and then he snarls—
“You are mine.”
His hips stutter for just a moment before you feel him thicken impossibly further deep inside of you, both of his cocks throbbing and twitching—it sends a painful twinge up your spine before the relief comes. Both of his cocks twitch simultaneously, the pulse releasing a wave of seed deep inside of you. It’s warm, almost unbearably so, yet you relish in the feeling of it.
You feel complete. A contentedness settles deep in your chest and wraps around you in a comforting arm, and all you can do is moan sweetly into Sukuna’s awaiting mouth as he shudders through his orgasm. His hips continue to pump against you, forcing his cum as deep as possible inside of you—claiming you in the most primal way.
The world swirls around you, looming bookcases seeming to grow taller as the lethargy starts to kick in. Sukuna lowers his body slowly down atop you, still refusing to pull out from you but you can already feel the stickiness of his release trickling from around where the two of you joined and ruining the slips of silk beneath you.
The hand at your throat moved at some point, instead coming up to smooth through your hair, peeling it away from your sweaty skin before brushing it further back. It has you leaning into the touch, and you’re sure if you could purr, you would at the tenderness Sukuna is handling you with.
His nose smooths up along your cheek, his breaths coming in deep and heavy before he finds the shell of your ear. “You are mine, as I am yours. Your strength will know no bounds, for as long as you stay at my side.”
A tingling sensation burns at your chest, an itch that you can’t quite reach once his words settle against your ear. Perhaps it’s the exhaustion starting to take its toll on your brain, but his words almost sound like he was completing the binding vow with an additional rule…
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#dead dove do not eat#cw gore#cw dark content#cw violence#tw cannibalism#sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#jjk x reader
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Dark! Yandere! Hazbin Hotel X Reader 【 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝟑 】
So I forgot I explained the situation in my other yandere fic but not this one so I'll do it now so everyone will know.
The reason some girls are genderbend is because I can't exactly write yaoi or yuri cause of my religion, the most I could do for them is turn them into males so they can be romantic yanderes, hope you guys understand.
Also because I like to write genderbend as well.
The treatment Valentino gives Angel Dust will be mentioned of course, and not all the girls will be genderbend, it depends on how the story will go.
So anyways enjoy the chapter ❣️
˖๑‧˚꒷꒦₊꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦˚‧๑˖𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ˖๑‧˚꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦₊꒷꒦˚‧๑˖
Things were not going so well for Charles at the meeting.
"And then I went ahead and invited her to my place-"
This 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘳 won't stop babbling about useless stuff and avoiding the topic at hand.
"- I failed to seduce her since she's so oblivious, but I can always try again next time," Adam said nonchalantly, taking a bite out of the rib as he glanced at him. "So what did you do this weekend?"
"Sir." The exterminator standing behind Adam looked less than thrilled while listening to his boss's chattering as well. " There's only a few minutes left for the meeting."
"Really? Oh well, you can start talking then."
Fucking finally.
Charles stood up after clearing his throat, holding up his papers as he started explaining the situation at hand.
"So I'm sure you're well aware of the overpopulation issue we're currently facing, I would like to suggest-"
Adam interrupted him. "OH that's not a problem at all! we're taking care of that just fine, Lute!" He called out as Lute stepped closer to him. "How many demons did you kill this year?"
The exterminator's voice was blunt as he answered. "Got a good 275 sir."
"275!? Badass! Awesome job danger dick." They fist-bumped as he said this, making the demon frown.
They're proud of that..?
"You know those are my people, right..?"
Adam laughed. "Of course! And that's what makes it even better!"
Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Charles continued. "As I was saying, all our problems will be solved if we rehab those sinners and cleanse all their souls so they can join you guys in heaven and the extermination won't be needed anymore!"
He explained as fast as he could while holding up each paper. " The redeeming process will take place in my hote-"
"That's enough."
Huh?
"But I haven't finished yet-"
"I've heard more than enough, if what you're suggesting is letting those miserable fuckers climb up the ladder then you can forget about it, that's the dumbest idea I've ever heard in my long, loooong life."
"Everyone makes mistakes! They can redeem themselves-"
"They had the chance to do that when they were 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦, now that they've earned damnation, it's no one's fault but their own," Lute spoke in a scornful tone, his eyes narrowed in disgust. "And for your information, angels 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 make mistakes."
Charles narrowed his eyes at him in return. " You really think so."
The man smirked. "I 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 so."
Adam, visibly annoyed, slammed his hands on the table, making them both stop. "Alright that's enough!"
He rose to his feet and made his way over to Charles until they were standing face to face. " Look here pal, hell is forever and there's nothing, and I mean absolutely 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 you can do about it, so I suggest you give up now, and I'll pretend I never heard any of that bullshit."
A sneer of contempt crept over his face as he towered over the boy, he looked too much like his father, just looking at him made him 𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘬.
"You should consider yourself lucky that damned snake gave you a pardon from the extermination or else you and your hellborn kind would've been dead a long time ago."
Charles could feel his blood boil, his face flushed in rage as he scowled at him.
This damned bastard-
Before he had a chance to respond, the angel suddenly stepped back.
"And now that I've got your and the audience's attention, I would like to announce that we've made a determination!" With a triumphant smirk, Adam turned his head to stare directly at where the camera was.
...?
Confused, Charles turned his head to where Adam was looking.
....
Shit!
There was a camera?!!
How come he didn't notice it!
"-To move up the next extermination."
What?!
"Wait a second that's not-!"
"I can't wait a whole year to slaughter those little cunts, I know the day just finished, but we'll be back in six months!" Taking hold of both the drone and Charles's hand, he sent a menacing smile to the camera. " Enjoy those next few months dear sinners! Cause they might be your last."
Once he said that, he roughly threw them out of the room and returned to his seat while bursting into a fit of laughter.
"Wait!" The demon exclaimed, papers scattered around him as he tried to enter the room again. "Hold on a moment!"
"Now where is my favorite angel-" was the last thing he heard Adam say before the door slammed shut in his face.
......
Frustrated beyond words, his face scrunched up in anger as he slammed his fist into the door.
"Fuck!"
This was not how this was supposed to go!
He made things WORSE.
He then heard a voice come from the small drone.
"Looks like Lucifer's brat fucked things up for us all! What a shocker, I'm sure your father will be 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥."
....
He squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a deep sigh as he dropped his head, feeling defeated.
"Excuse me, are those yours?"
Huh?
Charles lifted his head and looked over his shoulder.
Despite the woman being out of uniform and wearing a simple dress, he was certain that she was one of the angels with the wings and halo.
Moreover, the giant hammer in her hand, still dripping with blood, served as a stark reminder of her rank.
Her other hand was holding the papers he drew at the hotel, with a basket hanging from her wrist.
Was that an egg?
Despite being a little disturbed by the sight, he couldn't help but be drawn by her looks.
She's pretty...
"Sir?"
Charles snapped out of it, a flush spread across his cheeks when he realized he'd been staring too long.
With a sheepish nod, he stood up and brushed off his clothes as he went over to you.
"Oh yeah they're mine!"
With a nod, you extended the papers. "Here you go then." You said, handing him the papers, some were stained with blood.
He looked at the stained papers for a moment before taking them off your hand. "Am.. thanks."
"No problem, have a nice day."
With that being said, you walked past him and towards the room he just got kicked out of.
His eyes followed your back for a moment, letting out a heavy sigh and turning around to leave when he suddenly paused in his tracks.
Wait..
𝘚𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦
𝘐 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳
𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭?
Perhaps you're the one that arrogant prick was talking about?
𝘍𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦..𝘴𝘦𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘦...
Maybe it wasn't too late yet!
If he could convince you of his project then maybe...
Perhaps you could help change Adam's mind as well!
Or at the very least move the extermination back to once a year like usual.
"Miss! Please wait!"
Turning back, he quickly headed over to you.
Upon hearing that, you paused and turned back to him with a raised brow. "Do you need anything?"
"I'd like to speak with you about something urgent."
You silently glanced back at the door and then back at the blonde, you had arrived just in time to witness him get thrown out by your boss.
So you had a pretty good guess on why he wanted to discuss with you.
"I'm sorry but my boss's words are final, I have no say in them, so whatever you spoke with him about I can't do anything."
That was mostly a lie, but the blonde didn't need to know that.
"Please! I beg you, it will only take a minute."
Gazing at the sheer desperation on the man's face, you couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him.
..........
.....
Damnit.
You finally let out a sigh. "Go ahead, I can't promise anything though."
?!
Charles's face lit up with happiness as he gave you a beaming smile.
"Thank you!"
Despite your visible disinterest, the man excitedly explained his entire project to you in detail.
There might be hope to clean up the mess he made after all.
˖๑‧˚꒷꒦₊꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦˚‧๑˖𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ˖๑‧˚꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦₊꒷꒦˚‧๑˖
Hope you guys liked the chapter!
I really need to focus back on my Yandere Animation Studios fic, that thing only has the trailer chap posted 😭
Anyways until next time ❣️
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Bullet with Butterfly Wings
Astarion x f!Tav, Explicit
Ascended Astarion, Vampire sex, blood, Vampire bites, AFAB tiefling Tav
"On your knees darling."
But this, this is something entirely new. There's something glinting, sharp and dangerous out of his eyes now. Something deep and dark, pulled up from the recesses of his soul by the ritual. Something not Astarion.
Reposting this from a few weeks ago, because Tumblr decided to not show it on any of the tag feeds.
Title is from the Smashing Pumpkins song of the same name, because I can't hear it without thinking of Astarion
Available on AO3 or under the cut
"On your knees, darling."
The first thing Aranrei feels after sinking to the floor is the press of his cold fingers against her shoulders. The gentle bite of his claws pricking the skin around her collar bones as he leans in behind her. It's a firm touch, possessive even, but not threatening. Not yet.
She shivers as he traces one of those claws up her neck, pulling up a pink welt across her skin that he soothes quickly with his tongue.
"There." She feels his lips pull into that dangerous smile against her skin. "You know how I adore those little shakes of excitement whenever you feel my mouth near that delectable neck of yours. You'll be my undoing, my love."
He presses a trail of kisses up her neck, and she feels her pulse quicken as his lips follow along the artery there, his tongue pressing over his favourite spot where the thrum is strongest. She feels her heart fluttering wildly against the cage of her ribs, nerves, anticipation, fear, as he sets his fangs against her skin. Astarion nips softly, drawing a few pinpricks of blood to dance sweet copper over his tongue. He's delighted by the power he holds over her even with such a delicate touch. The thrill of it washes over him and settles as deep thrum in his groin, pulsing in time with every frantic beat of her heart. He moves his mouth up to tease his tongue over her ear.
"Patience, my sweet. We have an eternity to explore a cornucopia of carnal delights. I have plans for centuries of ecstacy, lost in each other. There's no need to rush so quickly to the main event." The honeyed words, the sultry tone are all so familiar, but as he turns her face towards his, she sees something in his eyes that gives her pause. She's seen them lost, vacant as they were during their first night together. She's seen the melancholy that lingers in them far too often, the fear that sometimes even his most practiced of charming veneers won't hide. She's watched them fill with joy, the lines around them creasing deeply as he laughs at Shadowheart and Lae'zel, their blades at each other's throats. And she's seen them full of white hot rage, the red of his irises burning as he recounted some of the fouler things Cazador had done to him. Or worse, forced him to do to others.
But this, this is something entirely new. There's something glinting, sharp and dangerous out of them now. Something deep and dark, pulled up from the recesses of his soul by the ritual. Something not Astarion.
"You always flush so beautifully for me my darling." He says as he admires the pretty pink blush smudged across her cheeks, the hue lustred by the pale lavender of her skin. He moves to kiss her, and she allows the press of his mouth against hers to push away the doubt that has started gnawing in the pit of stomach. They had made the right decision, he was finally free. Free of Cazador, free of fear, free to live for himself for the first time in 200 years. She had done the right thing.
Aranrei feels the moan rumble through his chest as she takes his bottom lip between her teeth and bites down the way he likes it. Just on the edge of too painful. Responds with her own when he slides that silver tongue against hers, pushing into her mouth to claim every inch of it. His hands smooth over her shoulders before pressing against them, encouraging her to spin around and bare herself to him. He pulls away from the kiss and drinks in the sight of her before him. Her lips and neck bruised a dark purple from his attentions, face and breasts flushed with arousal. "I can taste it, you know. In the air, on your skin, in your blood. I can taste how much you want this. How much you need me."
He pushes her down against the hard wooden boards, but she manages to catch herself on her elbows before her head smacks against the floor. She feels another pang of fear race through her heart as she stares up into his beautiful face. The soft halo of white curls catching in the dim light of the room. The face of the man she loves more than anything else in the realms. A face that could charm all the gods above and below. All hers, but now turned stranger. That dagger smile of his now a smirk cut across it like a gash. The cold steel in his eyes that she doesn't recognise.
She's prey, she realises. That gnawing doubt in her stomach now a lump of cold hard rock. He pushes her legs apart with a foot, taking in the whole of her, before sinking to his knees between her thighs. There's a feline quality to his movements as he slinks up her body, hands coming to a stop either side of her head as he fixes her with that predatory gaze once again. "Astarion, I'm not-"
"You are perfect." He leans down to capture her lips in another kiss, cutting her off before she can bring voice to the feeling. She relaxes into the kiss, allowing the slow grind of his body against hers to reignite the fire inside. Even through his trousers, the insistent press of his hard cock against her soft core leaves her aching for him, and he feels the wetness of her soaking through his clothes. She finds herself helpless to the waves of arousal his well practiced movements pull from her, soothing away her doubts with the stroke of his tongue against hers.
Keeping himself braced above her, his other hand moves to massage her breasts and she breaks the kiss with a gasp. Her pupils are blown as he gently rakes his newly clawed hand down her side, sending yet another shudder of arousal to race through her. He sits up on his knees, hand now stroking its way down his own chest over sculpted muscles before coming to rest over the closure of his britches. He moans decadently as he squeezes his hand over his erection, keeping his eyes locked on hers as he relieves some of the ache of his arousal. It's performance, any good bard would be able to tell, but it sits somewhere on that fuzzy line of exaggerated truth. And it's for her, Aranrei tells herself. They did the right thing.
With a few motions of his deft fingers, he opens his trousers and pulls his cock free from their confines. Gives her another deep moan of pleasure as he pulls his hand over the shaft, twisting slightly as moisture beads at the head. He grins, wicked, at her reaction to him. Leans down over her again and uses his hand to guide his cock to stroke through her wet folds, head rubbing over her swollen clit. Tuts at her when she tries to move her hips to press him into where the ache of her arousal is deepest. "Patience, my love. You've waited so long already, what's a minute more to savour the moment, hmm?"
She suppresses the sudden urge to cover herself, feeling trapped and exposed by the ravenous stare he gives her as he takes in the state of her. Her chest still flushed and now heaving as the anticipation of him starts to overwhelm her. Her hands are desperate for something to dig her claws into, her tail winding around his clothed thigh trying to pull him to her. She's missed him, missed this, so much. Dreamt of this moment a thousand times, where he would trust her and himself enough to share this with her again. And yet the nagging feeling that something isn't quite right resurfaces. Persists through his pretty words, and his touch even as he hitches her thigh against his hip and enters her in one smooth, strong thrust.
She moans his name, long and loud, relieved to finally have him inside of her again, the glorious stretch as he fills her. He responds in kind as the feeling of hot, tight, wet, mine surrounds him. He stills for a moment, enjoying the sensations of her walls fluttering around him, inviting him to thrust deep and hard. To not stop until she's stuffed full of his cock and his cum, his fangs buried in her neck, his name on lips, her blood in his mouth, until she's so full of him that there's no room for her anymore. Until she's mine, all mine, only mine.
He traces a hand down her chest and stomach, feeling the shape of every ridge as he moves it down to her core. She draws in a sharp gasp as his thumb finds her swollen clit, draws the wetness around in small circles across it that have her muscles squeezing vice like around his throbbing cock. "My perfect, pretty consort." He offers her another dangerous smile as he pulls halfway out of her, enjoying the delicious friction as he drags himself out, "I do so love to hear you sing out my name, little bird. Do it again." He thrusts back in, slow and deep, wants to hear her whimper for him.
"Fuck, Astarion. You feel so - I-" she can't help the strangled moan that escapes her as he continues his languorous strokes inside of her. He watches, enraptured by the sight of his cock filling her, watches her as she squirms and whimpers, already so sensitive for him. How could he have been so weak before, to not take this, what was his to own and to treasure. He resists the urge to rut into her, hard and fast, to cum and to take her. He relaxes his jaw to try and relieve some of the ache in his fangs, he won't feel complete until he's claimed her as his. Instead he continues his slow rhythm, pausing to grind deep every time his hips meet hers. A gasp of pleasure falling from his own lips as his sensitive head rubs against the spongy bundle of nerves inside her.
Her lilac skin glows with a sheen of sweat as she rolls her hips to meet his thrusts, twisting slightly to feel every inch of him sliding into her. Their deliberate pace draws out the pleasure, winding them both higher and higher with ecstasy and holding them there, not yet ready to crest and fall. She closes her eyes against the mounting wave he's bringing her to, little gasps and hiccups of pleasure escaping uninhibited every time he grinds against her g-spot. The delicious curve of his cock that fits so perfectly inside her. Like they were both made for this.
She opens her eyes to watch his face, the pleasure dancing across its planes unable to hide the desperate hunger shining in his eyes. She reaches for him, and he allows her to pull him down, burying his face against her neck as his hips finally pick up speed. She traces her fingers down the scars on his back, digs in her claws as her nerve endings start to sing out their joy. Muscles in her lower body growing tense, her thighs gripping his hips and her walls pulling tight as he fills her over and over.
He pants his pleasure into her neck as she clenches hard around his swollen cock, feels her pulse racing under his tongue as the hot, wet pull of her body drives him higher still. "Ah- Ast- I'm cu- Ah!" She chokes over her moans, unable to get the words out. Every thrust of his perfect cock winding the pleasure tighter and tighter in her center, until it's too much to bear. He growls as he bares his fangs, allowing his instinct to take over, and he sinks them into the soft skin of her neck.
Aranrei screams out as he bites her. The sharp pain in her neck is nothing compared to the white hot waves of pleasure now crashing through her body. Her muscles spasm around his cock as her orgasm washes over her, it radiates out from her core sending tingles through to her fingers and she surrenders herself completely to the incredible pleasure he's brought her to. Her world narrows down to the feel of him inside of her, his hips still working relentlessly, his skin under her hands, hair brushing her ears, his mouth at her neck. Every deep suck at her throat sending another wave to wash over her, pulling her deeper and deeper into him, until she's delirious with it.
The rush of her blood into his mouth as she cums is exquisite. He can taste the sweetness of her orgasm as it pours over his tongue, the tingle of magic in her blood better than any nectar of the gods. His hips are frantic now, pumping rapidly to work her through the last of her orgasm as he chases his own. He drives himself into her desperately as she gushes wetness and contracts around him, her blood singing through his body as he drinks. His cock sensitive, swollen, harder than he's ever been and every nerve ending is aflame with pleasure. He rides the delicious agony of almost there, floating higher and higher, desperate to live in this moment with her forever. His moan is a broken sob against her neck as his balls draw up tight against his body before his pleasure finally crests, he thrusts deep and hard one last time before he erupts inside of her.
His vision goes white and there's a roar in his ears as his cock jerks over and over again, painting her walls with ropes of his hot cum. It ripples endlessly through his body as he drinks from her and she trembles through her aftershocks, clenching her muscles sporadically around his over sensitive cock. She is divine in her pleasure, his beautiful saviour and dark consort, and she belongs to him.
And still he drinks. Sucking hard at the puncture wounds on her neck to draw more of her blood down his throat. She starts to lose herself to it, her mind already hazy with pleasure; she feels everything start to wash away with the ebb and flow of her blood as it leaves her body. Her doubts, her worries, her pain, her joy, everything lost to the feel of Astarion at her neck. She relaxes completely, there's no strength left in her muscles to keep her thighs held around his hip, and her arms slide off of his back as darkness starts to cloud her vision. She's left with only one tiny spark of fear, one last thought before her consciousness slips away and everything goes black.
We did the right thing.
He feels as she goes limp underneath him. Thinks he can taste the last drops of life spilling over his tongue before he finally pulls away from her neck to admire his work, cock slipping out of her. She's beautiful. The sheen of sweat still lingering on her pale skin gives her an ethereal glow, the flush of her arousal still present despite her bloodless state. It's a stark contrast to the bloody red mess of her throat, the vulgarity of his seed dripping out of her onto the floor below, the dark bruise of his fingers across her thighs. He's enraptured by the ruin he's brought to her, such a pretty thing to be marred by such violence, and he burns it into his memory.
He shifts up onto his knees and raising his hands he drags a sharp claw across his wrist, satisfied as blood blooms to the surface. He turns her face towards him and gently opens her mouth before holding his bloody wrist over it. He allows one singular drop of his blood to fall into it, dropping onto her tongue and sealing her fate.
He strokes his thumb over her cold cheek, and smiles at her as he waits for the changes to start.
"Oh my love, we're going to have so much fun."
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Ya’ll would never believe me, but THE DRIVER by Måneskin is how I believe Q!Tubbo views his personal relationships.
“Give me eyes, then twist the knife” 2nd line in the song, how he views practically all relationships, since he knows loving is something that is inherently dangerous— whether he loves or someone else loves him.
People that love him, despite how much he begs for it, should never take it any farther than surface level or else they risk having to stab him or themselves in back by a higher power.
“Put me under your spell, then hide the crime” Tubborucho. The crime being shoving Tubbo’s ass into the freezer.
The bridge “Bare your soul 'til it's naked, Bite my lip 'til you break it, Steal my heart, get it wasted, Don't do it slow” THIS IS HOW HE VIEWS PURGATORY, SPECIFICALLY PURG 2.
He was allowed to be as selfish as he wanted, to be a beast to the game and do anything to win. After all ‘Can’t end on a loss’. He loved the blood, the thrill, the challenge, and he would never want that to change. (He needed it, to remind himself his empathy is his weakness no matter how much a part of him it is.)
The chorus. “If you gonna set fire to the night, Baby, let me be the lighter” How he views Morning Crew, since he would forever devout himself to their cause and while he can’t ever let himself call them family, they are. They are both his matches, are only a simply ‘yes’ is needed for him to completely give his free will to them.
“If you're already high and you wanna fly, I'll be the hit that takes you higher” I specifically view this one as SoulHunters, because it really is letting them both enable each other at their worst, ESPECIALLY IN PURGATORY, but also knowing that no matter how much they argue, they are ride AND die for one another.
“If you wanna love when you touch the sky, You can be my midnight rider” Frubbo.. the more underlying toxic version of it. The verison of Frubbo that while they do both love each other, they both are using each other as a distraction/escape to not think about their past as much.
“If there's nowhere to go when you wanna go wild, I wanna be the driver” Tubbo and his need to be irreplaceable, but also more specifically Tubbo and Sunny. Tubbo, who will raise his child the best he can and, even if the world turns her away, he will be the pillar of support she could always rely on. Technically also Sunshine family.
It’s so him coded but I feel like the only one who feels this way—
#qsmp#qsmp tubbo#tubbo#qsmp character analysis#frubbo#soulhunters#morning crew#sunnysideup family#i feel like i should mention poly morning crew and Tubhalo are HEAVILY implied in this
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The Hunt
On my Halloween vampire kick still!
Vampire! Fives x Human F!Reader
Reader F but not described.
Rating: Explicit (R) Minors DNI
Warnings: Mentions of abuse, vampirism, blood drinking, wall s3x, alleyway s3x, p in v, unprotected sex
Summary: There was an unspoken rule amongst the vampires of Coruscant; don’t kill unless provoked, leave no evidence, don’t feed more than once on the same person.
As his eyes focused on a familiar outline in the crowd, arousal shooting through his body, Fives knew he was going to break that last rule tonight. Again.
@amorfista I'm back on my vampire BS lol
79’s was heaving, as it ever was, though Fives couldn’t help but smirk at the array of fancy dress on the patrons.
Hallows’eve had always been a spectacle he’d watched from the outside, but never participated in, until now. Being a vampire, it almost felt like a festival honouring him, many a skimpy clad dancer with fake, painted blood spots on their neck, mimicking them being a victim of a bite.
His stomach fluttered and cock twitched at the mere thought of making those marks real.
Letting out a soft growl, dark yellow eyes flicked across the crowd.
There were so many options tonight, it was on the verge of overwhelming. Usual nights were quiet when he would hunt, pickings often slim, especially since the end of the war.
Peace bred much fewer habit drinkers than wartime, he mused.
But he always got his fill, taking enough to satisfy but not to kill. There was no point in arousing suspicion, and if enough patrons of a certain venue were killed, it inevitably closed. There was an unspoken rule amongst the vampires of Coruscant; don’t kill unless provoked, leave no evidence, don’t feed more than once on the same person.
As his eyes focused on a familiar outline in the crowd, arousal shooting through his body, Fives knew he was going to break that last rule tonight. Again.
She looked ethereal under the strobing lights of the dancefloor, hair swaying with the movement of her hips, body gyrating to the music. Wearing only a thigh length, navy blue dress adorned with sequins on the hem, she literally sparkled, body shivering when she felt his gaze settle on her.
As soon as her attention turned to him, a bolt of arousal went straight to Five’s cock, his flesh hardening instantly. His tongue darted out to lick his lips automatically, her face flushing ever so slightly at the action as she reached out her hand and beckoned him over.
He couldn’t deny her. He never could.
Sauntering through the crowd, their eyes remained locked on each others, even as bodies swayed and rocked around them, sweat and alcohol tainting the scent of the air. It was a magnetic pull, as if he was drawn to her, the sweet, addictive memory of the taste of her already on his tongue.
By the time he reached her, he was rock hard and wanting, slipping into place behind her and joining in with her writhing dance, growling low in his throat at the way she pressed back against him.
“I thought I’d missed you tonight,” she called over the music, her backside grinding against his hips as his mouth found her shoulder. He inhaled deeply, relishing her scent. “You’ve not been around for a few days.”
It was true, Fives had been haunting some of his other hunting grounds and meeting with vode, but the allure of her, the memory of how sweet her essence was, had him coming back more often than he should.
The fact she’d noticed sent another thrill through his body, but this hit differently, warming his cold heart in a way he didn’t want to dwell on too much.
“You miss me, mesh’la?” he teased lightly, dragging his lips across the soft skin of her neck. He could feel her racing pulse, hear her ragged breathing, practically taste her arousal as she spun around in his arms, facing him.
“What if I did?” she challenged, gaze locked on Five’s, his smirk matching hers.
“You like playing dangerous games, sweet one,” he hummed, looking her over. She was utterly gorgeous, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit, it was one of the first things he’d noticed about her first.
That first night was still etched in his memory, how she’d lured him in with her siren song of a dance, grinding on him until it got too much and she dragged him towards the bathrooms.
It was only as he fingered her from behind, his hand pushed into her underwear in front of the mirror, her face twisted in pleasure and his reflection phasing in and out of reality that she learned of his true nature, practically begging him to drink from her, her core clenching at the very thought of it.
He’d complied easily, lost to pleasure as he drank his fill and she sank to her knees, drinking everything he had to offer in her own way.
It had been a pleasurable night, one that he’d kept in his memory for a week after, sated enough that he didn’t have to hunt. And when he returned, she was there. Waiting. Wanting. Sidling up to him at the bar and pressing her wrist to his mouth, urging him to sink his teeth into her.
He hadn’t even had time to order a drink before he had her pressed up against the wall, feasting on her pussy before he drank from her again, fingering her to a sweet release as he lapped at the wound, closing it tenderly.
Oddly, they’d talked afterwards, not for long, but enough to exchange names and dates they intended to visit next. And it sparked something in Fives. This was dangerous, he knew. She could be anyone; a hunter, the bait of a hunter, or just a hot girl with a very specific kink.
Whatever the truth was, he was wary to begin with. But weeks turned into months, and now it had been almost a full year since their first encounter, his heart fluttering at the thought.
They’d still not had sex, his nature still bound by honour. He wouldn’t take advantage of her, everything had to be initiated in a way she was comfortable with. But tonight, it felt different. More primal.
His suspicions were confirmed when she leaned in closer, tongue darting over the shell of his ear, sending a shiver through his body.
“I was actually hoping to ask you for something, Fives. For our upcoming anniversary.”
Her words were teasing but her face was set a little too serious, Five’s stomach twisting as the music slowed a little, the rhythm more sensual, bodies pressed close together.
“And what would that be, mesh’la?” he asked against her skin, lips moving in to caress her neck once more.
A beat of silence. Then…
“I… I want you to turn me. I want you to fuck me and let me turn, Fives. I want to… I want to be with you.”
Fives jerked back as if stung, eyes wide.
He had expected the request for sex, sure, it was something that had been on his mind as well, but the latter half of her request sent him reeling.
“I… I can’t!” he half choked, stumbling back a few steps. Her face was a picture of disappointment and hurt, uncertainty weaved through every movement it made. “You… you can’t just ask that of me.”
“Why not?” she snapped, suddenly angry, the rage rising up to replace the sharpness of her hurt.
Fives looked around, aware other patrons had stopped dancing to look at them, listening in on their conversation.
In a movement that brokered no arguments, he reached forward and grabbed her hand, pulling her towards one of the exits from 79’s, out onto the cold, busy streets of Corsucant.
To her credit, she did not protest, allowing herself to be led, trusting Five’s actions.
The very thought of that trust made him dizzy. How could she, this delicate, beautiful, thoughtful woman want to be with him? He was a vampire, but all accounts, a monster.
“You don’t want it,” he breathed as they finally made it into a secluded alley, away from prying eyes. She faced him, eyes searching his face with a frown, as if trying to decipher something. “It’s… it’s not what you think it is.”
“Then tell me,” she urged him, leaning back against the wall behind her, earnesty in her voice. “Tell me what it’s really like, and I can decide.”
Fives considered her words for a moment, replying with a scowl of his own.
“I’ll tell you,” he murmured slowly, “if you tell me why you asked me to drink you the second you found out I was a vampire.”
That stopped her in her tracks, her jaw clenching as she glared at Fives, finally huffing and turning her head away, relenting.
“Because I thought you were going to kill me.”
The silence between them was broken only by the omnipresent buzz of the living city around them, Five’s eyes going wide at her admission.
Reaching a hand up to her face, he traced her jaw tenderly, pulling just enough to make her turn to face him. He wished nothing more than to kiss her tears away, his arms shaking with the effort of giving her space.
“I… I was in a bad relationship,” she continued after a moment, voice thick with emotion, “and I’d gone out to… to forget. I knew, as soon as I got back, he’d… well… He’d hurt me,” she laughed bitterly, Fives frown darkening.
If he’d known, had any idea, he would have gone back with her that night and kept her safe.
“I… I’m sorry,” he offered uselessly, chest constricting when she looked away again, shaking her head.
“I thought you would drink me dry and leave me there,” she swallowed, tears spilling down her cheeks as she met Five’s gaze again, “and it would all be over. No more pain, no more humiliation, no more suffering. Only… you didn’t. You were gentle, even when you fed. You treated me like… like a person. Like I was worth something. So… I came back.”
Her explanation left Fives reeling, his entire focus on her. Of all of the things he thought he might hear from her tonight, this was not even remotely close to his guesses.
“Cyare,” he breathed, his other hand now travelling to her face, both moving to bring her in for a tender kiss. She whimpered against his lips, her own hands grabbing at his waist, pulling him flush to her.
Their kiss was different this time, the tang of her tears mixing with saliva as their tongues danced in unison, Five’s hands pulling hers above her head, pinning her against the wall. One leg slipped between her thighs, pressing his knee against her.
The whimper she released into his mouth was divine, swallowed down by him as she rocked herself against his thigh, seeking friction.
Finally breaking the kiss, Fives pulled back with lust blown eyes, his fangs bared now as he panted for breath.
“There’s no going back from this,” he warned her, deathly serious as she gazed up at him, completely vulnerable. “True star sunlight will kill you, you’ll need to feed like I do, and you could live for centuries. You’ll watch everything you know and love crumble to dust around you, and there’ll be nothing you can do to stop it.”
“The only thing I’ve ever cared for is you,” she gasped out, arching her neck, giving Fives a perfect view of her pulse point. “I have no family, my job is dead-end. I’ve been working just to afford to come to meet you. There’s nothing left for me. Only you.”
Fives let out a guttural groan, fighting the urge to simply sink his teeth into her there and then.
“Mesh’la,” he chastised her gently, “I need to be sure. If I turn you, you’re bound to me. We’ll be bonded. I can only ever turn one person, you have to be sure. I couldn’t live with you hating me for eternity.”
Her eyes widened at his admission, fingers clenching against his hand where he still held them above her head, his palm dwarfing her slender wrists.
“I want you, Fives,” she managed, almost choking on his name as his other hand trailed down her breasts, teasing at her nipples, “I’ve wanted this since the moment we met. I need you, for as long as you’ll have me.”
That was all the encouragement Fives needed, a shiver of arousal pulsing through his body.
“Forever is a long time, cyare.”
She could only gasp as he shifted his leg away and unbuckled his belt with ease, black jeans pulled down just enough to expose his thick, leaking cock.
“Good,” she breathed, letting out a whimpering moan as his fingers slipped up her thigh, dragging one leg over his hip before moving to her core, gently tugging her panties to one side and lining the head of his cock up to her entrance.
“Last chance,” he offered, eyes locked on hers for what felt like an eternity. She looked utterly debauched already, pupils blown wide with lust, beads of sweat forming on her forehead.
“Make me yours.”
They both moaned in unison as Fives slid inside her, the delicious friction of his cock against her insides bringing a new level of pleasure to her, one she’d never felt before. He was thicker than anyone she’d ever had before, her walls fluttering around him as he bottomed out, wrapping his free hand into her hair, tugging her head to the side.
The absolute euphoria that spread through every cell of her body when he sank his fangs into her, piercing the vein in her neck and letting her very life flow against his tongue was like nothing she could ever have described.
The intensity of a lightning strike, the pleasure of a well known lover, the force of a tsunami, it was overwhelming in the most primal way.
“F-Fives, oh, m-maker,” she managed, chest drawing in desperate, shuddering breaths. His lips sealed around the bite, sucking deeply as he fucked up into her, his other hand releasing hers above her head to grab at her waist, lifting her up against him.
She wrapped her legs around his waist without hesitation, her own hands raking down his back as he drank from her, desperate for every last drop.
Her head span, desire and pleasure mixing together to make everything hazy and unimportant. She could feel her heart slowing, the chill of the night seeping into her as Fives continued to fuck her deeply, moaning into her neck as he rolled his hips, relishing in the way she clenched around him.
Finally, as the world began to fade for her, Fives licked at her neck, lathing his tongue over the wound, and she found his wrist pressed against her mouth, the sweet, metallic tang of his blood filling her senses, his essence dribbling over her lips.
“Drink, my love,” he urged her as he bucked against her, drawing more moans from those beautiful lips, “have me. Become mine.”
He didn’t need to ask her again. Her mouth latched onto his wrist, sucking greedily at the wound on his wrist, laking all he had to offer her. Fresh pleasure rushed through Five’s body, his essence mixing with hers, the exchange of life, the awakening of a new part of her.
She felt it too, the absolute bliss, her body bucking and writhing against his, orgasm after orgasm coursing through her as she drank, her body changing, cooling, growing in strength.
Fives pulled his wrist away as he spilled inside her, caught off guard by the crest of his pleasure. Crashing their mouths together, they drank in the taste of each other, Five’s seed coating her insides, held in as he rocked them through the afterglow.
Caught once more by the intensity of it all, she let out a whimper against his lips, almost collapsing into his arms as exhaustion took over, a feeling he remembered all too well from his own turning.
“Easy, cyare,” he cooed, wincing in sympathy as he withdrew from her, hands steady on her waist, supporting her, “you’re going to feel weak for a while.”
“F-Fives, I, I l-love you,” she breathed, oblivious to the way his eyes flashed in delight, yellow orbs shining in the darkness.
“And I love you, mesh’la. I’m going to take you home, to our home, now. We will rest and wake together, and you can feed again. Then, I will show you the world through your new eyes.”
“P-Please, F-Fives. Thank, thank you. You’re all I, all I want.”
Fives couldn’t fight the soppy grin that lilted his lips as he quickly redressed himself and picked her up bridal style, his touch tender and comforting.
“You have me, cyare. Forever.”
#star wars#tcw#star wars the clone wars#arc trooper fives#tcw fives#halloween#Halloween writing challenge#fives x reader#clone wars#clone thirsting#clone trooper fives#x reader fanfiction#Vampire Fives#Vampire AU#Monster AU#SW fanfiction#TCW fan fiction#Fives my beloved#daniwrites
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Big Shiggy Daddy: Ch 10
Art: https://whvn.cc/3zpr36
Previous chapter: 9
In this chapter, the reader is taken on a thrilling and intense journey as you protect Eri during a vicious rat attack. As the battle escalates, you experience fear unlike any other before.
Mr. Compress steals the show at the single's fair with a display of his powerful quirk. But just as Mr. Compress revels in the attention, Mothman Shigaraki once again asserts his dominance as the "big daddy" and prepares for a fight with the heroes. While Mr. Compress and Mothman Shigaraki's displays of power showcase the true magnitude of the quirk abilities in this world.
However, everything is quickly overshadowed by human Shigaraki and his sinister meeting to deal with Mothman Shigaraki once and for all. This meeting takes a dark turn as they not only plan to defeat him, but also how human Shigaraki likes to inflict torture. Everyone needs a hobby.
Warning: Non/con mouth violation, micro aggress, quirk prejudice, blood and gore, death.
Chapter 10: the train
As Eri bravely approached the Rat King, Steele's eyes widened with rage.
This was his moment to seize control, and he wasn't going to let anyone stand in his way. With a loud roar, he lunged towards Eri, his massive rat-like teeth bared and ready to attack. But you stood between them, determined to protect the little girl. You grabbed Eri and pulled her away from the snarling rat, your heart racing with the situation's intensity. Steele continued to rant and rave, his words venomous and hateful towards outsiders. He saw them as a threat to his power and would do anything to eliminate you.
"These outsiders are liars!" Steel snapped. "They are no doctors!"
But you refused to let that happen. With a calming voice, you tried to reason with Steel and explain that they were not there to cause harm. But it was no use. He was consumed by his own fear and greed. As the chaos in the room escalated, the other rats grew restless and agitated. It was a dangerous situation that could quickly escalate into a full-blown battle. You knew you had to act quickly to diffuse the tension and protect Eri.
With one arm wrapped tightly around her, you swung your other arm wildly, trying to fend off the relentless rodents. But they were relentless, their numbers seeming to multiply with each passing second. You could hear her whimpering in fear, her tiny body trembling against your chest. You knew you had to protect her at all costs. You held her high above your head, hoping the rats would not be able to reach her. But as you felt their sharp teeth sink into your skin, the pain was almost unbearable.
You could feel the warm blood trickling down your legs as you continued to fight off the swarm. You couldn't let them reach Eri. You couldn't let them hurt her. With a burst of adrenaline, you let out a primal scream and swung your arm with all your might. You felt a satisfying crunch as your makeshift weapon connected with the rats, sending them flying in all directions as you kicked and stomped.
The sensation of terror coursing through your body was overwhelming as you struggled to fight off the relentless rats. Adrenaline pumped through your veins, allowing you to maintain your grip on the sweet girl who was now a liability in this fight for survival. As you lifted her higher, trying to shield her from the rodent onslaught, you couldn't help but think how ironic it was that you were singing her praises just moments before. Now, she was your only hope of making it out of this alive.
The swarm of rats seemed endless, their beady eyes and sharp teeth closing in on you from all angles. You felt sharp bites and scratches all over your body, the searing pain making it difficult to see or think clearly. But you knew you had to keep going, for her sake and your own. You gritted your teeth and focused all your energy on defending yourself and the girl, swinging and kicking at the rats as they swarmed closer. Suddenly, Steel lunged and bit into your arm, and managed to sink its teeth in. Hot jets of blood ran down your side. The excruciating pain jolted through your body, causing you to momentarily lose your grip on the girl. But you quickly regained your hold, determined not to let her fall into the clutches of the relentless rodents.
You could hear shouting from the rat king and Mr. Chew, but it was all just background noise as you focused solely on saving the girl and escaping this nightmare. As the minutes dragged on, the struggle intensified, and the pain became almost unbearable. But you refused to give up, fueled by a primal survival instinct. Shouts from the rat king and Mr. Chew were lost as all you could think of was, "I'm going to die."
You held Eri close, her tiny body now stained with blood from your wounds. But you didn't care as long as she was safe in your arms. You knew you would do anything to protect her, no matter the cost. You clung to Eri, her fragile form shaking in your embrace. Your own wounds were throbbing, but they were nothing compared to the thought of losing her. You could feel the warm stickiness of your blood mingling with hers, a cruel reminder of the dangers surrounding you.
But at this moment, nothing mattered except keeping Eri safe. You would do anything to shield her from harm, from the world that had already dealt her such a cruel hand. The only thing that mattered was that she was in your arms and safe. As you looked into her pure, innocent eyes, your heart ached with ferocious determination. You would protect her, no matter the cost. And as the terror of the situation threatened to overwhelm you, your will to survive kicked in. And as you looked into her innocent eyes, you knew you would do it all again without hesitation. In a horrifying moment, your will to live made you hysterical.
You didn't want to die. You wanted to see Chouka again. Your sweet child you felt was a curse on you. A product of rape, and with so many special needs, you could never hope to keep from drowning in debt. You didn't want to die, not when there was so much left to do. So many years of regret and resentment towards Chouka, a child born from a violent act and left with special needs that seemed insurmountable. But you wanted to make things right, to be the mother she deserved. You wanted to show her the love and care she had been denied for so long.
But in this desperate moment, all those hopes and dreams seemed to disappear. As you felt your arm being torn from your body, the agony was almost too much to bear. But you refused to let go of Eri, even as your strength began to fail you. You didn't want to die here like this! You felt your arm flesh detach and pull from your body. As the pain tore through you, you could feel your grip on Eri weakening. You had to hold on, for her sake.
Your mind was racing, trying to come up with an escape plan, a way to survive this nightmare. Your mind was racing, frantically searching for a way to escape this nightmare. You couldn't let this be the end, not when you had fought so hard to survive for Eri's sake. With a surge of determination, you held onto Eri tightly, clinging to the hope that you would make it out of this alive. Your heart was filled with a fierce love for your daughter, and you knew that no matter what happened, you would do everything in your power to keep her by your side.
As you took your final, desperate breath, your voice echoed through the air with a single word: "Chouka!"
It was a primal scream, filled with raw terror and a fierce determination to cling to life. As your body succumbed to death, your quirk activated, unleashing a deafening sound akin to that of a thousand raging beasts. The rats that had surrounded you retreated in fear, unable to withstand the intense force of your quirk. Despite the blinding pain that consumed you, all you could think about was the safety of Eri, commanding the rats to keep their distance and not harm her. Despite the looming darkness threatening to consume you, your ferocious determination to survive remained unshaken. Your grip on the young girl's hand loosened as your body began to give in to the exhaustion and pain. But as Eri's gentle touch reached you, a sense of tranquility washed over you, easing the excruciating agony coursing through your veins. Every fiber of your being yearned for air. When you finally managed to draw a breath, it felt like a surge of life flowing back into you, revitalizing your weary soul. Your fierce will to live emerged victorious, overpowering the shadows that sought to claim you. With a newfound vigor, you clung to life.
"Get up, you stupid cunt!" Mr. Chew, his voice filled with alarm and urgency, let out a piercing scream. "You managed to push them back, but don't let your guard down - Steel is regrouping and rallying their forces!"
You rise to your feet, your body thrumming with a newfound sense of purpose and determination. You know exactly what you felt when your quirk awakened, and you have no doubts about what you must do now. With a commanding roar, you unleash your quirk upon the swarm of rats, directing them to attack their leader, Steel. As the vermin swarm over him, you can see the fear and panic in his eyes.
"Save the King, Eri!" Mr. Chew's urgent voice rings out as he charges forward alongside the others. "If we can rescue the rat king, we won't have to rely on the dumb twat's quirk!" As if responding to Mr. Chew's plea, Eri sprints towards the rat king and touches him, using her quirk to reverse his aging and restore him to his prime.
The chaos and destruction around you begin to subside as the rat king looks to you with newfound respect and gratitude. You have proven to be a powerful ally in this battle against chaos. Now, with the rat king on your side, you stand ready to punish Steel. You know that with your awakened quirk and the support of your friends and allies, you felt something you've never felt before. A sensation unlike anything you had ever experienced, filling you with a sense of strength and confidence that you had never known before. Something that twisted darkly in you. Power.
As the last rays of sunlight disappeared behind the horizon, Shigaraki's patience slowly dwindled. He was eager to start their planned event and didn't care about suffering a slight sunburn. Meanwhile, Compress was busy pampering Chouka and researching the plane's counterpart.
"I was broken out of prison and now run what's called the Tokyo strip with my own magic shows in conjunction with Dabi on something called the culling games. How droll of me. At least I'm robbing legitimately," Compress grumbled, clearly unimpressed with his current occupation. He then turned to Chouka, his tone much softer. "Do you need anything else, my dear? Another corn dog or perhaps a slushie?"
Chouka sucked down her slushie and stared at him suspiciously, "Are you just being nice because you want to sleep with my mommy?" Chouka took another sip of her slushie, observing Compress. She couldn't help but feel suspicious of him. After all, she had seen how some other men in the League of Villains looked at her mother with desire. Was Compress just another one of them? Her suspicion only grew when he laughed at her question. But instead of denying it, he purred with a wicked grin, confirming her fears. Chouka's eyes narrowed as she studied him, wondering his true intentions.
"Why yes," he purred with a mischievous grin. "But you can do much worse than having me as a second father. At least I'm not Dabi. You know, because of the lack of females, it's common to have more than one male to a fertile female."
But then he surprised her by mentioning becoming a second father to her. Chouka raised an eyebrow in confusion, unsure of what he meant. Chouka couldn't imagine having more than one male figure in her life, especially a villain like Compress. But then she thought of Dabi, the cold and distant member of the League who showed no interest in her mother. Maybe having Compress as a second father wouldn't be so bad after all. Still, she couldn't shake off her suspicion of him. She continued to watch him as she took another sip of her slushie, her antennae twitching in uncertainty. She didn't want to trust him too quickly, especially when it came to her mother's safety. But Compress seemed unfazed by her suspicion. He simply chuckled and took a sip of his drink, leaning back in his chair with a relaxed posture. It was almost as if he knew she couldn't resist his charm and offer.
Chouka observed with a slight twitch of her antennae, "Dabi has no interest in my mother whatsoever."
"Dabi is more interested in your father. They had a thing along with Spinner. For your father, it seemed like a phase. He was always more focused on keeping them controlled than actual love and it seemed the same for Dabi," Compress said nonchalantly. Chouka fluttered her wings in annoyance. "I want to clarify; I'm not insinuating that you're or your mother are simply a fleeting phase, but it's essential to always anticipate potential disappointments. Being prepared is a principle I live by," Compress remarked, hinting that Shigaraki's fatherhood may be temporary, nonetheless.
In many ways, she considered Compress the most insidious villain in her life. Chouka couldn't deny that something was alluring about Compress; it could be his charm or his genuine desire to love you. Maybe it was his confidence or smooth words, but she couldn't help but feel intrigued by him. Despite feeling guarded, Chouka decided to let Compress entertain her for the time being. After all, what harm could it do to have someone like him, a charming but dangerous villain, as a second father figure? Compress revealed unsettling information about Dabi's past involvement with Chouka's parents, particularly her father. Apparently, there had been a brief romantic connection between Dabi and her father, along with their fellow villain, Spinner. Chouka's antennae twitched in irritation at the thought of her father having been involved with someone as twisted as Dabi. It seemed that for her father, his priority had always been maintaining control over his cohorts rather than genuine love. Chouka couldn't help but feel annoyed at Compress for bringing up such personal matters, especially since she was still technically a child.
"Listen, my dear. What I'm trying to tell you is that you don't have to settle for less. You have endless possibilities, while men like me are willing to do anything for a taste of genuine love. Your father may be trying, but the truth is, someone like me with experience can transform you into a powerful vixen. I have parental experience. If my daughter had even half of your beauty, she could easily reign over the world. Plus, I can make your parents happy. I know how to step in when your father is losing control. Consider it," Compress seductively tempted.
He was wise in his thinking. When Shigaraki declared him the only family man he could trust, he immediately saw an opportunity. He would focus on Chouka and try to win her over. In his eyes, Shigaraki didn't truly love you. He just enjoyed torturing you, like he did with all his "toys," and he didn't want to share you with anyone else.
But even with the influx of new females, there would always be a need for sharing in the group. Shigaraki's greed was causing problems for the entire group despite their current position as the top team. History has shown that the strongest groups were the ones who worked together and shared power. Those who tried to rule alone often faced collapse when they pushed their limits. It was possible that Shigaraki simply didn't care about the ruling, or worse, he wanted to see it fail. If it weren't for Chouka, he was confident that Shigaraki would become a reclusive leader who would never achieve anything significant again. His musing was interrupted when Mr. Watanabe's sudden appearance startled him. The distinguished, typically composed man was now wildly gesturing towards them with his claws. It was a strange sight, to say the least, as he tried to urgently capture his attention.
"We can't just open the gate!" Mr. Watanabe fretted. Mr. Compress jumped in surprise and instantly tried to defuse the situation.
"We are graced with the presence of a thousand esteemed women and children waiting patiently in line, and with their company inside our event, the wait for the arrival of the men will surely be made more bearable." Compress artfully fabricated. His true motive, however, was to make a quick escape before this alleged god Shigaraki had predicted arrived, as Watanabe's nervousness and incessant clicking noises were beginning to make him look like a disturbing human-praying mantis hybrid.
"I simply cannot ignore this any longer," Mr. Watanabe fumed, his eyes blazing with intensity. "Not only is Mr. Shimura letting them venture into a park with insufficient staff to run it, but there's something else I need to discuss with you first." His words are searing with urgency. Compress couldn't help but freeze, anticipating what was coming next.
"Staff?" Compress asked. Watanabe exploded into a tirade, bemoaning the inadequate staffing and accusing Compress of manipulating schedules for his own selfish gain. The realization dawned on Watanabe that Compress was actively hoarding female employees while disregarding the males. A surge of suspicion and betrayal washed over Watanabe as he glared at Compress, wondering what the man was up to. He had also avoided responses for when the men were to come to the event.
"Of course," Mr. Watanabe exclaimed, beads of sweat forming on his brow. The staff for the rides, the concession stands, and the babysitting tents—all of them!"
Compress pondered this, his mind swirling with doubt. Would Shigaraki be able to amplify his magic enough for this daunting task? And as if that wasn't enough, he hadn't even considered the presence of male staff. He couldn't help but wonder if Shigaraki would simply dispose of them due to their nation's male surplus. However, he reassured himself that, for now, he could ease Mr. Watanabe's anxiousness with his honeyed words.
"Ah, Mr. Watanabe," Compress began with a charming smile. Watanabe couldn't help but feel a slight flutter in his stomach at the term of endearment. Compress made him feel a way he hadn't in years. "Mr. Shimura may be a bit assertive, but it is his money we are playing with. However, rest assured that we will have plenty of suitable gentlemen for all these beautiful ladies. I have carefully selected men who seek a good time and can provide for a family. Our goal is prosperity and happiness," he feigned, brushing something off Watanabe's sharp suit, causing the latter to flush and nod.
"But let me assure you, my dear friend, that my seemingly uncaring facade is only a façade. I truly care about your well-being. I care about these ladies and the success of the future," Compress reassured Watanabe with genuine concern. "And I want you to confidently open the park and enjoy yourself without any worries. Our hard work will surely pay off. And remember, no matter what happens, I will always protect you." His words were tinged with a hint of flirtation, causing Watanabe's heart to skip a beat. Compress does mean it. He's going to take care of his friend. Watanabe looks slightly relieved and accepts this.
"We've texted a lot. I know you are also worried about the population. I'm not going to deny our nation didn't have a problem before. Still, recently, it has been a combination of infertility and a lack of resources. You have no idea how chaotic it was. The demon lord's takeover caused so much destruction and turmoil. And while he may have brought advanced technology, it came at a price. Our population is declining, and there is a lack of resources. The demon king has complete control over everything. I fear for the safety of our children, who can no longer walk alone without fear," Watanabe was casually commenting. However, Compress visibly paled. Watanabe looked concerned, "Mr. Sako, are you ok?"
Compress plastered on a smile, "Of course, dear. Do me a favor. Watch out for Chouka for me while I talk to Mr. Shimura." Compress tipped his hat before he turned and sprinted through the chaos, his heart pounding in his chest. He could hear Chouka's high-pitched voice in the distance, asking Watanabe a question. She wanted to know if Watanabe would be a mommy or a daddy. Watanabe chuckled in response, saying he could be anything and everything, but his pronouns is he/him, Chouka nodded her head accepting this answer asking for another slushy, and Compress couldn't help but chuckle to.
As he approached Shigaraki, he could see the leader ushering women and children into the park. But Compress didn't have time to dwell on the disturbing implications of their conversation. He needed to inform Shigaraki now. He had to reach Shigaraki. Gasping for air, Compress finally skidded to a stop in front of Shigaraki.
"I just heard from Watanabe," he panted, "There's an infertility issue among the women who were killed!" Shigaraki's chittering annoyance was palpable as he yanked Compress aside. Shigaraki's expression turned to frustration as he hissed, "Obviously."
"Does that mean we could potentially tear it apart with so many people being pulled into our world?" Compress asked, his panic growing. Shigaraki's grip tightened on his arm, pulling him further away from the civilians.
"You didn't leave Chouka alone with that creepy mantis, did you?" Shigaraki asked. He did not like spiders, ladybugs, or praying mantis quirks at all. Compress face scrunched into his own mask of irritation. Shigaraki may not trust a mantis heteromorph, but Mr. Watanabe would never hurt a child. But he couldn't dwell on his mistake for long, as his mind was consumed by a terrifying thought.
"With this many people being pulled into our world," he said, panic rising in his voice, "couldn't we, in theory, tear apart both of our worlds?" Shigaraki's expression darkened as he considered the possibility. He pulled Compress away from the crowd with a forceful tug, determined to closely monitor the situation. The stakes had never been higher, and there was no room for error.
"Perhaps, if we didn't already possess the knowledge to dispel the effects of magic and have you, we can easily trick our world. Magic is vastly more…flexible," Shigaraki said smugly.
It was evident that Shigaraki was not just a mere mortal but something much more extraordinary. Shigaraki understood other's capabilities and limits with magic and how to push them beyond their normal boundaries. As the magic swirled around Shigaraki, threatening to consume him, Compress couldn't help but admire his determination. As the dwindling light of the evening cast ominous shadows around them, Shigaraki's words hung heavy with a sense of impending drama. His feathery antennae twitched and flexed, a clear sign of his agitation, as Shigaraki spoke of the advantage of those with the ability to harness magic.
"The humans of this world are docile, weak creatures," he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "They have it so easy, yet they suppress their very nature. It's pathetic. We have discussed this Compress." Compress wanted to argue that maybe they had misjudged their capabilities. Shigaraki seemed almost lost in his thoughts for a moment before turning to Compress with a sense of urgency.
"We don't have much time. I've been able to thwart my human self, my foolish human self. But the god is coming. Come closer, its time," he urged, his voice bordering on frantic. As Compress and his allies cautiously approached, Shigaraki's words became more ominous. "By the way," he added with a sly smile, "that much power flowing through you might hurt." Just when Compress thought the situation couldn't become any more tense, he spotted Chouka and Watanabe slowly approaching them. Relief washed over him at the sight of them. Still, Watanabe's curiosity got the better of him as he wanted to see what was happening and if he reasoned Mr. Shimura.
"Why is Chouka alone with him?" Shigaraki hissed.
Compress ignored Shigaraki and walked up to Watanabe as if he were about to intervene in a confrontation, which made Mr. Watanabe freeze in confusion. "I'm truly sorry about this. I meant what I said. I will protect you," Compress said, turning the confused Watanabe into a marble.
Chouka shouted in surprise, "Why did you do that?" Shigaraki snorted and scratched his neck.
"You're not seriously bringing that thing, are you?" he sneered.
Compress sighed and shook his head in frustration. He shouldn't have to explain himself after all this time, "Mr. Watanabe knows how to organize. It will make the transition smoother, and he is my friend."
Shigaraki nodded and smirked, "There is always room for what my allies desire." Shigaraki's words never failed to catch Compress off guard, always filled with unexpected twists and turns. But Compress was used to it. This was just another one of Shigaraki's dramatic displays.
He looked to Chouka and stroked a hand over her little antenna. "Do not fret Chouka. Mr. Compress is taking care of his friend. We're about to make many new friends. Remember what I taught you? Open your third eye now," Shigaraki whispered to his daughter.
It was Compress's time to take the stage and bask in the spotlight. As they clasped hands, a daring move that would send chills down the spines of most, Compress couldn't help but feel a surge of electricity in the air. He could almost feel the decay of time and space crawling up his good arm, ready to wreak havoc at his command.
But he was determined not to let anyone ruin this moment. It was a time to savor and revel in, a moment that made him feel invincible. The intoxicating rush of magical energy flowed through his veins, making him feel like a deity. His heart thundered in his chest, the adrenaline coursing through him like a surge of potent drugs. With trembling excitement, he reached out and placed his hand on the ground, where the pulsing sigil glimmered with power. The very essence of his ability throbbed in his palm, and he closed his fist around it with unbreakable determination.
He compressed the mountain-sized event into a tiny marble with all his might. And as the earth trembled beneath him, he knew he had achieved the impossible. He had done it! His legs wobbled as he tried to keep upright, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins as he struggled to maintain his balance. The power he had just unleashed was still thrumming in his head, overwhelming and intoxicating. Compress, despite his injuries, couldn't help but grin in exhilaration. But the rush was short-lived as he suddenly felt a warm trickle down his face. He reached up to wipe it away and was met with the sight of his own blood seeping out of every orifice on his face.
The gravity of the situation hit him like a ton of bricks, and he quickly glanced over at Shigaraki, only to see him screaming in panic. Compress followed his line of sight, and his heart dropped as he saw the legendary gods, Le Million and Deku, approaching them. In a panicked state, Shigaraki thrust a crying and struggling Chouka into Compress's hands before being yanked away by the overwhelming force of their opponent.
With wide eyes, Compress looked back and forth between the sobbing Chouka and the god that could potentially end them all. He knew what he had to do despite the nagging voice in his head warning him against it. He needed to close the portal before any heroes could slip through and wreak havoc. A hero could expose Shigaraki, who is not here. Without Shigaraki, there would be anarchy and challenges to take the throne.
"Close it, Chouka! Close it!" Compress screamed, but he didn't need to. Shigaraki did it for Chouka. He knew forcing fate brings its own set of consequences. This will set him on the path he needed. Compress was still shocked by the selflessness. He wasn't going to make his daughter decide. Compress remembers that day. That day, when things were going so wrong. They were losing. After all the training and sacrifice, it looked like the "good guys" status quo would prevail. After all, they were more trained, and the hero's had a few gods too. Then the god Stars and Stripe made a wish. She wished upon a Star and killed most of the women, including herself and the hero names Star, at Hawk's encouragement. It was dumb luck and sheer numbers the bad guys won. But Compress remembers….
He remembers Shigaraki about to strike the final blow on the cursed green rabbit. When the heroes had just killed their future. They destroyed most of the women; it was a scream that went across the land. But from the outside, it looked like Deku had fallen. Shigaraki had a gleeful, sadistic joy in his eyes as he was about to decay all of the land and kill the agitated Deku, who was weeping like a child. Shigaraki froze, his smile dropping as horror crossed his face. With a screech of distress, he looked behind him, his antennae waving in the air, sensing something was wrong.
Shigaraki FROZE.
Then, like lightning, he flew and ripped the sky open. Shigaraki returned later with a bundle in his arms, making his demands clear and ultimate to the fallen heroes. The other side had no fight, and Shigaraki wouldn't explain himself why he wasn't destroying the land and declaring himself king. The group felt divided and felt it was too late to argue with Shigaraki. The bad guys won, but it felt hollow. It felt different. This time, when his lover Spinner tried to confront him, Shigaraki almost tore his head off in protecting the bundle he held in his arms. Compress was a father too, but a villain first who still didn't understand how they had won but still did not have what they wanted until now. Shigaraki didn't continue to destroy, and Compress could never wrap his head around it.
Only when he saw Shigaraki forcing the portal closed for his daughter did he understand. Shigaraki was a questionable leader, a shit lover, but he was a good father. Compress didn't understand how he could suddenly become a daddy first, but he did. Compress tried to comfort Chouka as he heard a train in the distance.
Spinning around in fury, Shigaraki's ruthless claws tore through the air with unbridled savagery. His gut roiled with an intense mix of emotions, each battling for dominance within him. People often labeled him as a cold, heartless sociopath, but they couldn't have been further from the truth. Deep within his hardened exterior lay a soft spot reserved only for a few select individuals.
At the center of that spot was Chouka, a pure and gentle soul who captured his heart from the moment he saw her. He promised himself to never let her suffer the same fate as he did under the cruel hands of his Master and father. He had poured his heart and soul into caring for her, nurturing her, and holding her close. He remembers every little sneeze, every wail and tear, every time she clutched at him. She was a part of him like no other.
But as he watched her tiny hand reach out for him through the closing portal, it was as if his heart was being ripped apart. The pain and anguish he felt at that moment were almost too much to bear. And yet, it wasn't only the heartache that consumed him, but an overwhelming sense of hate. Fists clenched tight; Shigaraki seethed with fury. It was their fault, all of it! These cursed heroes!
Red Riot stumbled back, his grip faltering. Shigaraki tore deep gouges in his tough skin, hastily released his hold, and leaped backward. It was the meddlesome scum from a parallel universe, the same AU lot he can't stand, their constant interference plaguing him at every turn. Shigaraki's face contorted in frustration, his hand absently scratching at his neck as he muttered, "I suppose I'll have to temper myself this time." His eyes flashed with barely contained rage.
A week before.
The one called AFO, once feared and revered as the most powerful villain in existence, is now simply Shigaraki to his allies. His former identity as All for One or Tenko or Tomura Shigaraki is a distant memory, drowned out by his new persona. But this transformation has left him in a state of confusion and chaos for a while, unable to distinguish his own thoughts and feelings. As AFO and Tomura's consciousnesses merged, there was no violent battle for dominance, no struggle for control. Instead, they melted together seamlessly, becoming something entirely new. There was no overwhelming itch for either of them anymore. In this new form, Shigaraki realizes that this is what he has always yearned for - to shed his past and become one with his true self. His powerful self. Without the itch, he can temper his need for destruction.
But this new being is not to be trifled with. Shigaraki is not a kind or merciful ruler to be under. He is a demon lord. Shigaraki is no longer bound by the limitations of his former identity, and with that comes a newfound power and darkness. He has transcended his old self and emerged as a demon lord, ruling over all with an iron fist and cruelty, for he knows no mercy or compassion. He is a force to be reckoned with, a living embodiment of chaos and destruction. The world trembles under his rule, and all must bow before the might of Shigaraki, the creature who has shed his old identities to become something even more sinister.
His newfound obsession is to crush others, reveling in their destruction with sadistic glee. No one around his board table is safe from his cunning and diabolical schemes. With his recent release from the hospital, he wasted no time summoning an urgent meeting, ready to unleash his wicked machinations.
"Listen up," Shigaraki commanded, his voice dripping with malice and self-satisfaction. "First, I want my special room transformed into something more than a mere sex dungeon. I want it to be a cozy apartment fit for a Queen. And right next to it, I want a room fit for a little princess, one who loves the night. I want it to be perfect, perhaps with a starry night motif on the ceiling." His eyes gleamed excitedly as he stared at the ceiling, imagining the possibilities of claiming what was rightfully his. Yoichi and Nana were melded in him somewhere, and now he had a child to mold in his image. And that other Shigaraki? He was just another pawn in Shigaraki's grand game, and he will come to heel.
"Second," Shigaraki continued, his gaze shifting to the board. The doppelganger was heavy on his mind. There's a man I desire. A man I must have. He is a Shimura. I want him, and nothing will stand in my way."
The intensity in his words sent shivers down the spines of those around him. After all, everything and everyone belonged to him, including the man he desired. The tension in the boardroom was palpable, the silence so thick it was suffocating. Shigaraki's twisted smile widened as he savored the fear emanating from the other members. They were like rabbits caught in headlights, frozen in terror of his ominous energy. Suddenly, a cacophony of frantic voices erupted in a frenzy of finger-pointing and accusations. Shigaraki's nostrils flared as the distinct stench of fear sweat mixed with the pungent aroma of urine filled the room. He couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of one member cowering in a puddle of his own piss.
"Impossible!" one member shouted, his voice trembling. "We conducted a thorough search. There's no way-"
But Shigaraki cut him off with a wicked grin. "Clearly, you didn't search well enough. Or perhaps someone failed in their duties?" His eyes landed on the division he knew was responsible for the mistake. If they had made a mistake, he wasn't going to miss the opportunity to torture these people.
A chorus of voices erupted in agreement, each one trying to shift the blame onto the other. Shigaraki basked in the mayhem, the havoc that erupted wherever he went. It was a sweet symphony orchestrated by his mere existence. He could send the world into a frenzy with just a few calculated words. The rush of power was intoxicating, fueling his insatiable desire to sow more chaos. He knew no one failed but couldn't resist savoring this moment like a lavish feast. A feast fit for a king, like the ones his father would have served him using one hand. Oh, how he would have laughed at the sight of Kotaro's face seeing his son ruling over Japan with ease. But these musings are unproductive.
"Silence! You have all disappointed me with your incompetence. This is your moment to redeem yourselves. This Shimura possesses a formidable insectoid quirk and is holding a matchmaking event in the territory of heroes. And we must maintain our treaty with the Heroes, who generously provide us with monetary support. But this man...I want him. I want to hear ideas and plans on acquiring him without disrupting our alliance," he declared, his fingers peaking and a chilling smile.
"Can't you just go in there and take him?" the lady pleaded, her voice trembling with fear. Her request was clearly foolish, but now she had captured his attention—a dangerous feat.
"If I need to do everything myself, then what do I need you for?" Shigaraki snapped, his anger rising with each passing moment. A sinister smile crept onto his face as he fixed his intense gaze on the woman, his hand reaching instinctively for his weapon. He wanted to hear her suggestions, to see her squirm in his presence. He could sense her trembling and could practically taste her fear.
"Please," she stammered, struggling to find her words. "I-I just thought-"
But her voice faltered as Shigaraki's chilling laughter pierced through the air, sending shivers down her spine. The lady could feel the weight of his gaze as he stared at her, his eyes filled with malice and amusement. Then she realized that speaking out of turn was a grave error.
"You were about to say something?" Shigaraki taunted, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Well, go on. I want to hear every last thought that crosses your mind, and they better be worth my time." The woman finally said the obvious same unoriginal plan.
"We can cause a distraction for the heroes and extract him?" She spoke. Shigaraki shook his head.
"He'll be aware of our arrival. And I've already reached out to the heroes to make them aware of him and keep our good relationship intact," Shigaraki sneered, the thought of you and Moth together making his blood boil with jealousy. It was information that could have been useful earlier, but he had kept it to himself. As his comrades frantically searched for information, he couldn't help feeling a twisted satisfaction that they were coming up empty-handed. He had personally dug into the matter and had come to the final conclusion: that bastard was from another world, invading his territory and taking his woman.
That woman should have been his wife, Chouka should have been his child, and all of it should have been his happiness. He couldn't understand how the lowly Tenko had managed to capture your heart. Love was a foreign and weak emotion to him despite his familial sense of justice. As he tried to focus on their plans for the capture, his thoughts drifted back to you and Moth Shigaraki, and the seething rage within him only grew stronger.
Every single clue and piece of evidence he had come across led to the undeniable conclusion that you were from his world, and thus, you belonged to him. Lately, he found himself unable to perform at his best without thoughts of you invading his mind, and he despised that weakness more than anything. It was a disturbing realization for him, but lately, he had found himself unable to perform without thoughts of you invading his mind. It was infuriating to think that he had become so dependent on you for pleasure.
He knew the power of sexual violation all too well, and it had often been his go-to motivation in the past. Yet even this tactic seemed to fail him without your presence. He couldn't even motivate himself to do it, which was a crushing blow to his ego. It reminded him that he had become weak and powerless without your presence.
A sense of frustration washed over him as he listened to the woman suggest bringing outside villains to procure the Moth man from prison. It was the obvious and most effective plan, one that he himself would have employed. However, his purpose here was not real solutions but relishing in the torment of these incompetent fools. He sighed mentally at their lack of understanding.
"Where are these villains coming from? Do you know any personally?" Shigaraki inquired, his tone challenging and demanding. As the woman sat before him, her fear evident in her wide eyes and trembling body, he couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. She was weak and vulnerable, just like all the other pawns that had crossed his path. But her next words caught his attention.
"I know a few from when I was a sidekick," she admits. She had been a sidekick, someone who had collaborated with the heroes. His smirk widened at this new discovery.
"So, you've had personal interactions with these villains," he mused, his red eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Tell me, were you just a mere pawn in their game? Or did you enjoy playing with danger, perhaps even indulging in more intimate activities?" Shigaraki teased, licking his lips suggestively so she understood his lewd meaning. Knowing they can't deceive him; he has a nasty quirk implanted in them if they try. The woman's mouth fell open in shock at his crude words, her cheeks flushing red. But she couldn't deny it. Shigaraki could see the guilt and shame in her eyes as she nodded. Without waiting for a verbal response, Shigaraki continued with a twisted smirk, his voice dripping with sarcasm and amusement.
"It would be a shame if these villains remembered your past... exploits and decided to collect their payment in a different form." His words sent shivers down her spine, and she knew she would have to pay a heavy price for her past mistakes. Shigaraki's words hung in the air, a reminder of the consequences that awaited her. The guilt and shame in her eyes only grew stronger as she realized the gravity of her actions. But it was too late now, and she would have to face the consequences of her choices. He would make her.
Her voice quivered as she spoke, fully aware of Shigaraki's power and the danger of crossing him. "Then I will pay them," she said, her words barely above a whisper.
She could feel the weight of her words bearing down on her. It was a moment she had been dreading, yet it had arrived. Shigaraki's bored expression only added to her feelings of shame and humiliation. She could sense his disappointment in her, and it was almost suffocating. She knew she had disappointed him, and that was a feeling she never wanted to experience again. Shigaraki's response was mocking, his voice oozing with disdain.
"Do you really believe that you can satisfy them?" he asked, a sly smile playing on his lips. "It's been so long since you were a slutty pawn. Do you even remember how to please a man?"
Despite the heat rising to her cheeks, she held her tongue. She knew that showing any signs of discomfort or weakness would only amuse Shigaraki further. His gaze bore into her, challenging her to prove herself. But she was no longer just a sidekick. She was determined to prove that she was capable of anything.
Her eyes flashed with a mix of frustration and determination as she responded, "I can do it."
A glint of excitement flickered in Shigaraki's eyes as he unzipped his pants, prompting her to prove herself. She felt a sense of dread wash over her as she realized she would have to fulfill the desires of these men, who saw her only as an object for their pleasure. But she would do it because she had no other choice but to obey Shigaraki's every command.
"Prove it," he taunted, his power over her palpable as he unzipped his pants. He watched the blood drain from her face. She knew exactly what he wanted her to do. She would have to perform for these cowards she calls co-workers, humiliating herself for Shigaraki's amusement. She steeled herself, refusing to show any weakness, determined to prove herself as more than just a mere slutty sidekick past her prime.
She stood resolutely in front of him, her eyes narrowed in determination, and her lips pressed into a thin line. With a quick tug, she removed her glasses and dropped to her knees before him. Her breathing was heavy, a mixture of disgust and fear, as she reached into his pants and pulled out his large, flaccid member. It lay in her hand, resembling a fat, pale grub. With a loud, wet slurp, she took it into her mouth, the warmth of her mouth enveloping him. Her saliva was wet and sloppy, evidence of her futile attempts to arouse him.
Finally, his impotence proved to be a blessing in disguise. In a mocking tone, he taunted, "Is this all you're capable of?" He boasted that even inexperienced, innocent girls were able to satisfy him better than her. Pointing to his flaccid state as evidence, he further humiliated her by saying, "Look at this. Not even a stir." As she continued to try harder, the uncomfortable display caused everyone to wonder if there was something wrong with her. They had witnessed him violate countless men and women before, but now they doubted her abilities. Was she truly that terrible? He relished her complete humiliation, his pride growing with each passing moment.
Meanwhile, her pride and self-esteem crumbled as she desperately used her trembling fingers. Like her mouth, her ego was drying up as her tears served as lubrication for her frantic motions. She was reduced to nothing but a woman struggling to please a man who had already deemed her unworthy.
Despite the fierce and determined suction of her mouth, his member remained unmoved. Usually, he found great pleasure in watching women degrade themselves, even to the point of staining his expensive clothes with their bodily fluids. But this time, that was not enough to make him reach his climax. He could have easily lost control and exploded down her throat or even expanded his flesh to pop her like a balloon, as he had done when he lacked the proper control. He saw it in his mind as he had done it before, but he managed to resist this time. Instead, he watched with satisfaction as her spirit was slowly crushed, her tears and snot mixing and staining his Armani pants. The exact moment when her spirit broke and her ego shattered. A grin spread across his face as he loomed over her like a ghoul, relishing her vulnerability. This was just the beginning of his real enjoyment. Despite her ego being cracked open, he wanted to see the foundation crumble to dust. It was not enough for her to be degraded in front of him. He needed to completely break her down. And he was determined to do just that.
"Such a pitiful sight. That was pathetic. You are nothing but worthless trash." He sneered through gritted teeth as he stared at the woman's exhausted and slack-jawed expression, her drooling face a sign of her defeat. Roughly grasping her jaw, he forced her to meet his intense gaze. "Allow me to demonstrate the proper way of doing things."
He forces his cock to rise by activating his quirk. At first, the woman had tried to fight back, to refuse to open her mouth, with a pitiful shake of her head and a genuine look of fear. But Shigaraki was relentless, and they would forcefully pry open her mouth and pinch her nose shut painfully, bringing more tears to her eyes as he shoved his heavy giant cock down her throat. The taste and the swell of flesh at the back of her throat made her stomach turn, but he didn't care. He wanted her to suffer, to feel the discomfort and humiliation of having his dick forced upon her in front of her co-workers.
Typically, Shigaraki relishes the sensation of a mouth - its supple and dewy feel, its malleable and velvety texture, adorned with delicate tissue and peppered with minuscule ridges. He enjoys how his own flesh glides effortlessly over the damp and adhesive tongue, yielding to his control as it pulls him in. Yet this time, the mouth was defiant, but he paid no mind, nor did he care about the person it belonged to. With a perfunctory thrust of his hips, he closed his eyes and was transported to a foreign memory, a dream-like state as he thought of you.
When you eat sweets, the texture of your mouth becomes even more pronounced. Shigaraki pops another hard candy in your mouth with a kiss. The taste buds are quickly activated, and the mouth salivates in anticipation. He knows because he is shoving his long tongue in your mouth, wrapping his tongue around yours. His tantalizing tongue entangles with yours, savoring the delectable sweetness of your mouth. The sweet taste lingered on his tongue and coated the roof of his mouth, heightening the texture as you savored the sensation of his tongue. Every movement of his cock in your mouth only added to the overall experience, making his body tremble with pleasure. Your mouth was a delicious mix of moist, velvety smoothness and a slight stickiness that threatened to push him over the edge.
He couldn't resist how your salivated perfection surrounded him like a mouthful of decadent candy. The roughness of your taste buds only added to the intensity as the tip of his cock slid back and forth against them. He loved the way the firm structure of your palate felt against his head, dragging him deeper into the depths of your mouth. It was a delicate, almost fragile texture, but at the same time, it was intoxicatingly soft and velvety. As he thrust deeper, your throat tightened around him, taking him in completely.
He moaned, and the sound echoed in your throat, heightening the pleasure that surged through his body. Your wet, hot mouth against his hard, throbbing cock was pure bliss, igniting a fire within him that he couldn't contain. With each thrust, he felt the perfect blend of sweetness and sensuality envelop him, driving him wild with desire. It was like a symphony of textures perfectly orchestrated by you, his own personal goddess of pleasure. It was a perfect blend of sweetness and sensuality, just like you.
As the minutes ticked by, the woman's body fought against the relentless thrusts of his hard and demanding cock. Her throat burned, and a desperate cry was smothered within, her stomach churning with the overwhelming sensation. She silently begged for respite with pleading eyes, yet he only chuckled and taunted her. In his eyes, she was merely a tool to be used at his whim. Growling in irritation at her interruption of his thoughts of you, he closed his eyes. He lost himself in the fantasy of your eager and tight throat welcoming his every thrust.
As she slipped further and further away, she surrendered to his grasp. The once fearless and self-assured woman became a mere ghost of her former self, utterly broken and defeated. With each thrust of his immense member, her defiance dwindled until she was no longer able to resist the relentless onslaught slowly drained from her body and mind. The forced feeding session of his brutally large dick continued, second after second, until the woman's body could take no more. The ruthless ravaging of his colossal cock persisted, leaving her gasping for air and her body drained of strength. As she faded unconscious, her body went limp, her jaw slack, her throat searing with agony.
The aroma of your scent lingered in the air as you pulled away. Showing the candy is gone, and all of his cum swallowed. He leaned down, your lips brushing against his. As you pressed against him, the curves of your body molded perfectly against his, sending a jolt of desire through him as his fingers and claws explored every inch, igniting a burning desire. With a fierce intensity, his tongue plunged into your mouth, entwining passionately with yours, each movement teasing and tantalizing. As you pressed yourself against him, he couldn't help but feel the soft curves of your body pressing against him as he caressed with his fingertips and claws, igniting a fire inside him. His tongue thrusted back in your mouth, dancing against yours, teasing and tantalizing with each move.
Shigaraki released a deep growl, his lips parting as you nibbled on his bottom lip. Your nails dug into his scalp, tugging on his long locks and sensitive antennae, fueling the intense heat between you. Unable to resist, he ran his sharp claws down your body, memorizing every curve and crevice. A sharp breath escaped your lips as Shigaraki traced a claw and a finger over your breast, igniting a pleasurable shiver. Your response was like a drug to him, and he couldn't hold back any longer. With a strong grip, he hoisted you up, eager to savor the smooth, supple feel of your body with his mouth. As he indulged in your taste, he playfully slipped a hard candy into your mouth, intensifying your desires even more and signaling he wanted to be sucked more.
As his body moved in a fervent tempo, the symphony of your moans and sloppy wet noises reverberated throughout the room. Every gasp and cry of pleasure only fueled Shigaraki's insatiable desire as you both melted into one another. The slick, drooling, deliriously hungry touch of your mouth only heightened his passion in a night of unadulterated bliss. As you eagerly devoured every drop of his essence, collapsing into his embrace, it was a night they both never wanted to end.
Shigaraki trembled violently, his primal noises echoing through the room as he reached his climax, savoring the sensation before finally letting the woman go. With a cold, detached expression, he pushed her away, watching as her lifeless body hit the ground with a thud. She lay there, drained and unconscious, a mess of saliva and bodily fluids clinging to her. Despite the grotesque scene, Shigaraki showed no hint of remorse. With a callous tone, he simply ordered her co-workers to drag her back to the chair and continue their discussion, unfazed by the brutal encounter. As the woman stirred awake, gasping for air, Shigaraki's only comment was, "Clean yourself up. That lesson was messy. I was hoping for better, but what do I expect from a former hero. When things get hard, you always quit."
Present time:
The rat king's three-head grin widened as he presented his offer, his beady eyes gleaming with mischief.
"Oh, thank you for the mating offer," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady, "but I have a daughter waiting for me. This is not a lifestyle fit for a mere human like myself."
The rat king's minions snickered at your feeble excuse, their sharp claws tapping impatiently on the ground. But you stood your ground, determined to return to your daughter and reject the rat king's strange proposition. Not wanting to imagine how that would even work.
"Clearly, the dumb broad wants on the train. It's in the village near the mountain's base," Mr. Chew pipped up. Your mind reeled with this information.
"A train?" You asked aloud.
"Yes, a train. What, you have never been on one before?" Mr. Chew scoffed. You glared at the fat rat, but he seemed non-pulsed.
"Shigaraki created an infrastructure initiative," Eri said timidly.
The rats trembled in fear as the name Shigaraki echoed throughout their mountain hideout. This Alpha, feared by all creatures in the realm, had brought devastation to the rats' once peaceful existence.
"Yeah, that bastard may have been a godsend for those humans, but he drove us rats out of our homes while banishing us rats to the treacherous mountains," Mr. Chew growled with bitterness. His small eyes glinted with rage as he continued, his whiskers bristling angrily. "Nobody dares to attack us here, not with that Shigaraki lurking around. That Alpha energy, the savage king, rules over everything with an iron fist."
Mr. Chew said the last part almost reverently. Your heart raced as you asked about the nearest train stop. Mr. Chew's words sent shivers down your spine, but the temptation of a way back home was too great to ignore. However, the rat king's following words quickly extinguished that glimmer of hope.
"Oh, there is a train stop in the nearby village, but it's a lawless wilderness," Mull explained, his voice heavy with warning. "Any woman who sets foot there would be assaulted by the entire village, and we rats know better than to cross Shigaraki's ruthless wrath."
Fueled by fear and concern for your daughter, you were torn between the allure of the train and the horrors that awaited you in that forbidden village. The thought of being trapped in a confined space with men who would treat you as mere objects to satisfy their desires made your skin crawl. Yet, you couldn't just abandon your daughter to the mercy of Shigaraki and his vile minions. You bit your lip in hesitation, torn between the desire to return to your daughter and the horrors that awaited you in the human world. The train may offer a chance to escape, but it would be much more complicated with a little girl in tow. One might slip past them, but two?
As you weighed your options, a sudden realization struck you as you looked at Eri's innocent face, her small hand tightly clasping yours. You couldn't bear the thought of leaving her behind, no matter how dangerous the journey ahead may be. You couldn't abandon her, not when she needed you most. And to make matters worse, you also had Mr. Chew, the annoying rodent who saved your life. Grudgingly, you acknowledged that he held a wealth of knowledge about this strange world and its inhabitants. And as much as you hated to admit it. You knew he would take pleasure in reminding you of how he had saved you, rubbing it in your face with his smug demeanor. He may be a pain in the ass, but he was also a valuable source of information and had technically saved you.
"You would be safer with us," the rat king tried again, using Heart's gentle voice and demeanor this time. With a heavy heart filled with doubt, you shook your head at the rat king. You contemplated the danger and pushed it aside. After all, you had a quirk awakening. You had some control over mammals, and humans are mammals. Humans were mammals at the core, just like Shigaraki, whose insect-like quirk did not make him any less vulnerable to your quirk.
So, this will be no different, right? You tried to convince yourself. With determination, you persuaded yourself that this would be no different than communicating with any other animal. You had to do whatever it took to protect your daughter and get back home, no matter the obstacles. And so, with a firm resolve, you took your first steps towards your uncertain future, guided by your maternal instincts and newfound power. At least, that's what you kept telling yourself as you steeled yourself for what's ahead. You had already defied the odds by awakening your quirk amid chaos. There was no reason why you couldn't do the same in the outside world. With a heavy heart still filled with doubt, you shook your head at the rat king.
"I'm sorry, but I have a daughter to get back to," you said, your voice trembling with emotion. All sets of the rat king's eyes narrowed disappointment and a hint of anger flashing through them.
"Fine. Go back to your boring, pointless life. But just know that you're passing up the opportunity of a lifetime," Gnasher spat, turning away in disgust. "You're making a grave mistake, woman. Shigaraki's reach is far, and his wrath is even greater. But it seems like you have made up your mind. May the gods help you on your journey," he scoffed before turning away.
As the betrayal settled in your heart, a pang of guilt washed over you. You knew your actions had hurt the rat king's feelings, but you were too consumed with your agenda to care. You held the key to something they didn't, giving you a rush of power. But deep down, you couldn't deny the excitement of seeing Shigaraki again. He wouldn't allow anyone to harm you. But as your thoughts raced, a looming fear crept in. Knowing Shigaraki's savage nature, the idea of being at his mercy sent shivers down your spine. You couldn't even imagine what he might do to you if he decided you had tried to run away.
"You will guise of a man. Trust me, I will carry you on my back. And don't worry about the villagers, for you will have an army at your command," Mull declared, a fire in his eyes that sent shivers down your spine. It was a simple plan that could save your life but also came with great risks. Yet, the danger only added to the excitement and adrenaline coursing through your veins. As Mull's words echoed in your mind, a hint of hope bloomed in your chest. The thought of having an army at your disposal gave you a glimmer of reassurance. And when Mull offered to carry you on his back, it felt like a lifeline in a storm.
As you struggled with conflicting emotions, Mull's simple plan promised a slim chance of survival. The weight of that choice pressed down on your shoulders, but you knew you had to act quickly. With a deep breath, you climbed onto Mull's back, and as you held onto Mull's powerful form, you couldn't help but wonder what consequences this would bring. But at this point, all you could do was trust in the plan and hope for the best.
With a surge of raw power simmering in the depths of your throat, you unleashed your quirk with an earth-shattering scream that pierced the silence around you. The call echoed across the land, reaching every animal within earshot, stirring them to action. With a fierce determination burning in your eyes, you cried out a rallying call to all creatures, great and small: it was time to take back what was rightfully theirs.
In a graceful swoop, you seized hold of Eri and Mr. Chew, clutching them close as you rode into battle with the fury of a vengeful goddess. As you charged into the fray, the wind whipped through your hair, a roaring chorus of wild beasts thundering behind you. Your heart is pounding like a battle drum, your mind is focused, and your determination is unbreakable. Your enemies cowered in fear as you led a powerful army of fierce beasts into a frenzy. The ground trembled beneath your feet, but you are strong, a powerful force of nature. You are not the same timid creature you once knew. And you will protect those you love at all costs, even if it means facing your darkest fears head-on because you are no longer useless.
As the wind roared in your ears and the screams of men echoed through the air, you gritted your teeth and steeled yourself for the next move. The stakes were sky-high, but you were determined to do whatever it took to return to your beloved Chouka. Despite the chaos and danger surrounding you, you held your ground and scanned the battlefield with fierce determination. Steel in the lead as a loyal General. You did that, you made your enemy bend to your will.
A tidal wave of flesh rushed over you. You pointed towards the village with a fierce battle cry, commanding your troops forward. You were not merely a mother but a force to be reckoned with, a badass mom, commanding the respect and awe of those who bore witness to your incredible power. As your enemies fell and the dust settled, your name would be whispered in terrified whispers, a legend in the making. You turned to your loyal companions with a satisfied nod.
"Alright, let us gather our gear and board that damn train," you growled, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips. You knew nothing could stand in your way, not when you were a mother on a mission.
At least, that is what you believed as you settled into your train seat, seeking a moment's respite from the chaos of your life. You couldn't help but cling to the hope that this ride would offer a much-needed escape. But as you closed your eyes in weary anticipation, a pungent smell clawed its way into your senses. It was a mix of sizzling pork and singed hair, a sickening combination that jolted you from your reverie.
Your eyes snapped open to the sight of a man with charred skin, his once-handsome features now twisted into a grotesque mockery of humanity. His piercing blue eyes, though still striking, held a hint of madness that sent shivers down your spine. And beside him, a familiar little boy with shocks of white and red hair. Frozen in terror, you could only watch in horror as the man addressed the child next to you in a menacing tone.
"Well, well, what do we have here? Little Eri, on this train?" Dabi sneered, his voice dripping with malice. Your blood turned to ice as you realized that there was no escape, no sanctuary from the terrors lurking everywhere. “Who is your handsome escort?” Dabi asked Eri. He seemed to take immense pleasure in your fear.
As the train rumbled on, your mind raced with thoughts of how you could possibly survive this encounter. With a ruthless criminal and his accomplice sitting across from you, a fight for survival seemed inevitable. All you could do was pray that you would make it out alive in one piece.
Notes:
I'm going on hiatus because I would like to finish a project I started.
But loves, kudos, encouragement and a hello are always welcomed. Stay frosty and safe, grubbies.
#shigaraki tomura#boku no hero academia tomura#lemon#shigaraki x reader#my hero academia shigaraki#moth shigaraki#tomura shigaraki#bnha tomura
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The Middle of the Night
I started this a little while ago and then kept going back to it because I could never get it to feel quite right. It's finally gotten to a place where even if it's not 100% what I wanted I'm happy with it. It all started because I was listening to In the middle of the night (linked) while I was also thinking about how spoiler alert Theo's dramatic route has no bite and how annoyed I was at that. Theo bites Mitsuki for the first time. WC approx 1485, this also gets a NSFW smut light/medium warning.
It had only been three short months since that fateful night when Mitsuki came into his life, and yet this was the second night Theo had come home covered in cuts and bruises. Just like that first night he saw her eyes filled with worry and concern, but unlike that night she asked him no questions because she already knew the answers.
He sat still watching her as she treated and wrapped his wounds. Her touch was light but efficient and soon every cut was covered and every bruise gingerly examined.
Her bright eyes met and held his stormy ones as she wiped the last of the blood from his face. He reached out pushing her hair behind her ear, memories of her words back then flooding his mind. He wanted to pull her close, to feel her in his arms and kiss her lips but he didn't dare because he also wanted to bite her. So instead he gave some excuse about being tired and painfully dragged himself away from her to his room.
He didn't want to hurt her, not more than he already had. He'd also promised never to put her in danger again and with the way his throat burned for her blood he wasn't sure if he could control himself. He had to laugh at himself, becoming so completely undone by such a small unassuming woman. He knew she was anything but though, she may have been small but she had more strength and fight in her than any of them.
The hours ticked by as Theo sat at his desk, his shirt long since discarded. He absently twirled his metal pen in his hands while thinking of Mitsuki, how quickly she had become everything to him. For the first time he had wanted something for himself and it still amazed him that he got it, that she was his. Then suddenly his door softly creaked open and there she was slowly creeping inside as if he had summoned her to him.
“Sneaking into my room in the middle of the night Hondje?”
“I'm sorry, I was worried about you and couldn't sleep so I thought I'd come and check on you.”
He stared at her for a moment, the moonlight coming in through the curtains casting her in an ethereal glow. She was everything he had ever wanted and held the promise of so much more to come. How had he fallen so far so fast? He stood up from his chair crossing the room to her and caressing her cheek with his fingers. His storm filled eyes caught hers that were so full of love. He slowly moved his fingers up her cheek into her hair and down the back of her head before he pulled her into a hungry kiss.
He felt her hands come up and rest on his chest as he drew her closer to him with his free hand. The burning in his throat for her was joined by an even more intense burning in his soul and soon he had her in his arms but not for long as he laid her onto his bed. He caged her between his arms as he leaned down and stole her lips for another kiss, this one deeper and rougher than the last.
He loved her kisses, the feel of her lips on his, the way her tongue moved and twined with his, the taste of her. He felt her dainty hands run along and up his back before landing in his hair. He knew he wasn't gentle with her but she responded so eagerly to him every time, even when he worried he was too rough and it thrilled him.
He wanted her badly, he removed his lips from hers and brought them to her neck kissing and nipping his way down to her chest. He felt the way her skin warmed underneath him and listened to her soft sighs of pleasure. He moved one of his hands to glide over her breast and pinched her hardening nipple through the thin fabric. He couldn't help but grin as she arched into his touch. He sat up pulling her with him and he quickly removed her nightgown before pinning her back down on the bed again.He thought she looked so beautiful laying beneath him, her hair splayed out across the pillows like ocean waves and desire burning in her eyes. He cupped her breasts wrapping his lips around one of them and she moaned in pleasure as he sucked and teased her nipple with his tongue. His fingers fiercely kneaded at her soft flesh, he knew there would be marks left behind in the morning.
He felt her hands on his lower back tenderly tracing the scar that had until recently defined his second life. He had been consumed by his need for revenge, now he was consumed with his need for her. He inwardly chuckled at just how well she had tamed him in such a short time, he knew it may not seem that way to her but it was the truth. Then he felt her fingertips slide under the waistband of his pants.
“Theo.”
His name came from her lips like a command and he obeyed, he stood up undoing his belt and taking off his pants while looking into her eyes. He knew she wanted to look away but he was able to hold her captive with his sea blue eyes. He looped his fingers over the top of her underwear and slowly slid them down her legs watching the way her face flushed in anticipation.
He settled himself between her legs and wrapped his hands around her thighs. Still staring into her eyes he licked up her wet folds and over her clit. Her head fell back against the pillow and her breath became even more ragged. He licked her slowly wanting to savor the feel and taste of these lips as well. He dug his fingers into her thighs as she bucked and writhed against him. Soon she had reached her limit and he lapped up her juices, she tried to close her legs but he held them open not wanting to stop just yet. It wasn't until she was practically begging him and moaning so loudly that he finally released her.
“You're going to wake everyone up the way you're howling.”
Theo lowered himself on top of her and sealed her lips with a kiss. His cock brushed up against her soaking entrance and he let out a low moan as he entered her. He tried to go gently with her, even though he’d laid with her several times now he knew she still wasn't fully used to it and her body always tensed slightly at first. He kept going and soon he was buried in her as deep as he could get. Her walls were so tight and warm around him and he thrust into her hard as he let out another moan at how well she took him inside her and how good it felt. He thrust harder and faster and she arched into him while calling out his name.
He could tell he was losing control of himself, the burning in both his throat and his soul was overpowering but he desperately tried to hold on. His breath grew even more shallow and he found himself staring at her neck when a warm soft hand came up and cupped his cheek. He drew his gaze away from her neck long enough to see her looking at him through half lidded eyes.
“I need more of you Mitsuki.”
“Go ahead Theo.”
He caught his breath as she turned her head to fully expose her neck to him. He hesitated a moment, still afraid of just how much he craved her but then he brushed his lips along her neck and pierced her delicate skin, sinking his fangs deep into her neck. Her blood was so sweet and it soothed his burning throat, like waves crashing over an all consuming fire. Her voice rang out louder than before calling out his name and he felt her walls tighten even more around him. He lifted his head from her neck and licked at the bite marks before moving lower and sinking his fangs into her again. He started to thrust even faster and soon he felt his climax hit and he filled her even more.
Theo released her neck and turned his head, looking down into eyes that had already fallen shut. The burning in his throat was gone but the burning in his soul was even stronger now. He brushed a strand of hair off her face and kissed away the tear collected at the corner of her eye. Then he laid beside her, gathering her up into his arms before falling into the most peaceful sleep he'd ever had.
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Wild Inhibitions - Chapter 2
Chapter 1
Astarion Ancunín x Ilwyn Crowdancer
Summary: She was young, still learning to control her wild magic when Ilwyn was abducted by the mind flayers. Little did she know that revenge for her mother's death was imminent as well as an ill timed infatuation with a vampire.
TW: character injury, blood drinking, canon typical combat, blood, language, etc.
WC: 2.3 K
Taglist: @confidentandgood, @galaxycunt, @euryalex, @inafieldofdaisies, @neonneurons, @roofgeese
“It’s not what it looks like,” he attempts to placate her, watching as shaking hands scramble for a weapon. “I wasn’t going to hurt you. It’s just that, well, I need blood.”
Ilwyn remains silent, realizing exactly what he is.
Stories of vampires dotting the Faerûn were spun among the sanctum in an attempt to frighten the only child gracing the halls. Never had she become acquainted with one until now, a slave to sanguine hunger as sharp canines glint.
“How many victims have there been?” her quarterstaff is readied and Astarion smirks; it appears the young sorceress has all but forgotten she could but ignite him with only tips of her fingers. “Hundreds? Thousands?”
“I thought I had a flair for the dramatic,” he chuckles haughtily before Ilwyn jabs at the air without any menace. It becomes painfully obvious that her combat skills are quite measly. “Stop batting at me, darling. It’s rather embarrassing.”
“And let you bleed me like a stuck boar? Hah!” Copper hair is matted from sleep, glowing eyes still groggy.
“Please.” He leers, knowing she’s far wiser than the frightened creature poised in front him suggests. “I just needed a bite. Normally bears and kobolds suffice but having to keep my energy up for battle has been...difficult. I need something more nourishing.”
“Why me?” no longer feeling she’s in immediate danger, the staff is tossed aside as spindly arms wrap around her ribs nervously. A dark gaze dips to ample cleavage while she mulls over the situation, enjoying how a tight corset hugs supple skin.
The elf’s beauty is rather unfortunate, considering how irritating Astarion finds her. Yet he’s drawn to her like a moth to a flame.
“Frankly, my dear,” a large hand tousles snowy white curls with roguish charm, “You’re the least likely to ram a stake through my chest. The Blade of Frontiers and the Gith are less inviting though I’m sure they’d taste delectable.”
“I could kill you with the snap of my fingers,” doing just that sparks an spark as the vampire is impressed the young woman finally remembered her roots of sorcery and the arcane.
“But you won’t,” Astarion stalks closer, closing the gaping space between their bodies and leaving barely a foot remaining. Realization buzzes through an undead brain as a plan is formulated. “Because a kind creature like you takes pity on a poor monster like me. After all, I’m all but chained by my condition.”
“What do I get if I allow you to feed?” looking up through wispy lashes, the dying light of the fire splashes across her face. A nervous pulse jumps in her throat that he can practically feel against the flat of his tongue.
“A rather impressive partner in combat. One that will readily gut enemies with the flick of a wrist.”
One that is no longer weak from overexertion.
But such an admission is too risky, an open wound she could exploit while Ilwyn is the one that needs to be exploited. For Astarion’s own safety. Which almost feels like a trap when she nods her head sheepishly.
“I supposed that’s not a terrible trade,” blunt teeth dig into painted lips, a dusky mauve. “Doesn’t mean I’m thrilled about it by any means.”
“Why don’t we get more comfortable?” a blush crawls up her neck before flowering across full cheeks. Astarion takes a warm hand in his own, gently pulling her down onto a rumpled bed roll. Shorn copper waves splay across a lumpy pillow, freckled chest rising and falling steadily.
He wants to ruin her. Savagely rip her apart and attempt to put the mangled pieces back together. She’s too perfect, too kind, too naïve. With hardly any convincing at all, a powerful sorceress has agreed to lend blood to a dangerous creature of the night.
“Be gentle.” She pleads in a stubborn whisper before averting her eyes. “And do not a drop more than you need.”
“Not a drop more.” Eyes as dark as wet carrion are wide, unblinking in promise before dropping her hand to the ground with a graceless thud. His own brace bare shoulders, digging into a pile of blankets before burying a sharp nose in the crook of her neck. An elixir of smoke and lavender invades his senses, making him the littlest bit needy with want. The intimacy is overwhelming yet he fights it with a searing sense of aggravation.
The icy tip of his tongue seeks out a jumping vein, heartbeat echoing in pointy ears like a war drum. Arching upward instinctively, Ilwyn grapples with one bicep as she attempts to swallow a contented sigh. Smirking in amusement, fangs are bared before easily slicing into soft sinews.
Blood of a thinking creature is indescribable. While not hearty or completely filling, there’s a tanginess that buzzes in his mouth like sipping from a goblet of rich wine. The elf’s blood is almost as sickeningly sweet as her personality, tasting of ripe cherries as the hot liquid flows down a twitching gullet.
“Astarion,” she hisses in pain, feeling as though ice has been injected directly into her carotid. Vision swims out of focus as he continues to dine upon her as small fists weakly knock against a solid chest. “Stop…”
Either she isn’t heard or is simply ignored before squirming beneath the man. Panicking, Ilwyn struggles to push him away, overpowered by a mass of muscular limbs. Unable to focus on an incantation, she kicks her legs dazedly before the vampire is pulling away, blood smeared across his lips.
For a moment he looks content as the woman attempts to calm her nerves before something unexpected happens. But that’s far too late as a puddle of mud bubbles to life, garnering their attention as a dirty and diminutive creature flaps a pair of leathery wings.
She summoned a mephit. And then another.
A cacophony erupts in camp, rousing the others from their tents. As if travelling with a bunch of similarly infected strangers wasn’t already odd, finding two of them chasing after winged muddy beasts surely is.
“Why in the hells did you summon these bastards?!” Astarion whines, knife barely perforating one wing as the mephit floats higher yet. His bow is neatly tucked in his tent for the night, making combat with sky bound creatures difficult.
“It was an accident!” Ilwyn screeches, a fountain of flames desecrates one of the mephits, splattering charred chunks of mud across the front of both elves.
“What in the blazes is going on?” Wyll yawns, rubbing at his stone eye while the others emerge to take in the unfolding scene.
“Ignis!” Ilwyn ignores the question, attempting to kill the second animal that mocks them so, dodging every fiery rivulet sent its way.
“I am covered in muck!” Astarion growls while Shadowheart and Gale silently watch the theatrics unfold. Before anyone else can step in, the monster is suddenly pierced by a sharp arrow, falling with a thud. A hush falls over the camp as all eyes fall on the seething Githyanki.
“In Vlaakith’s name, who’s conjuring beasts for me to kill in the middle of the night?” Lae’zel hisses, miniscule nose pointed upwards. Ilwyn hugs herself nervously while Astarion sneers at the whole ordeal, “Chk!
It’s early afternoon when a ruined village is stumbled upon. In spite of hiking towards a goblin nest to find the druid Halsin, Ilwyn’s uncontrollable magic and Astarion’s vampirism are both popular subjects.
“Is it often that you summon mephit’s when distressed?” Shadowheart chides with the click of her tongue as the elf concentrates on balancing on a water-logged boulder. “Or should we expect more frightening beasts like hook horrors to manifest next?”
“That’s hardly fair,” Gale tuts while Astarion remains stoic. “Magic is quite the complex mistress that’s rather difficult to please. It takes a lot of practice to become an expert in the arcane. Or to become one with the weave like myself.”
“How very noble of you,” the young woman scoffs, chain laden braid swinging in the breeze. “To be traveling with the fabled Wizard of Waterdeep, a cursed enchantress, and a bloodthirsty monster. May the gods bless us.”
“Not technically a monster, darling. At least not as much as a true vampire.” Astarion jumps with a grunt, before running into Ilwyn and practically knocking her over.
“An imitation vampire. How…quaint.” Shadowheart chuckles mincingly though the man pays her jab little mind while scanning their surroundings. Cliffs rise around them, craggy rocks blossoming out of dirt and dust while not even the faintest whiff of a goblin lingers in the air.
“Where in hells are we?” he looks at their forlorn leader, shoulders beginning to slump forward as she pushes the intricate sleeves of burgundy robes up pale arms. “Well?”
“How am I ti know? I’ve never ventured this far outside of the city. All I know is we crashed across the River Chionthar.”
“You’ve taken the lead, my sweet,” he patronizes sardonically, sniffing at a rather intrusive scent of sulfur and brimstone. “Why don’t you lead us? Unless you’re afraid you’ll turn us into a herd of cats or summon a blizzard.”
“Careful,” she jabs one finger into his chest, reaching her limit, “Or you’ll have to start feeding off wild boars again.”
“As lovely as this bickering is,” Gale pipes up as they trudge down embankment, voice lilting the slightest bit, “I think we’ve bigger issues concerning us.”
Across a rushing vein of water is a hulking Tiefling, devil red and engulfed in flames. One horn is cracked off signifying that this must be Karlach. Carefully approaching, weapons drawn, she roars with an unbridled fury before the flames quell in a suffocating hiss.
Amber eyes soften as a welcoming grin stretches across her face.
Ilwyn can’t help but think that Wyll’s assumptions were incorrect as another drifter is added to an ever-growing gallery of rogues.
Gale is all too happy to hike back to camp, to bury himself in the comfort of musty tomes and scrolls while Karlach joins the search for the goblin camp. For a Tiefling from Avernus, she’s in rather high spirits and keeps both Shadowheart and Astarion occupied with conversation.
Ilwyn is grateful the attention is off of her magical mishaps and the bloody wound congealed against her throat. She doesn’t notice but the vampire’s gaze is oft drifting back to her visage as they hike across the Faerûn. Something about the young woman beckons him, how she uses the tadpole to talk a hoard of goblin raiders out of a fight at a broken windmill before freeing a gnome without even considering a reward.
Yet the she’s as clumsy as she is persuasive, practically slipping off a cliff when the rogue finds himself wrapping an arm around a her waist. If she dies, so does his chance of survival.
“Watch your step, darling,” he hums, pulling her back against his chest for an instant. Her heart skips a beat, making lush lips curl over pointed canines. They’ve hardly been banded together very long and her resolve is beginning to crumble. But before she can even push him away, her eyes freeze across the horizon.
An old temple looms in the distance, enveloped by a thick fog as the orange roar of a campfire is subdued by the darkness. The four adventurers breathe in unison at the foreboding sight. They’re one step closer to finding Halsin, finding a cure. Then they’ll be rid of each other.
Rid of the wretched Ilwyn, Astarion thinks as she’s still held flush against him. Her enveloping warmth is overwhelming, clouding his senses before she’s being propelled forward on stumbling feet.
He doesn’t need her. Or she him.
“That looks creepy as shit,” Karlach announces, fingers wrapping around the handle of a battered great axe.
“Place is likely crawling with a slew of goblins if Aradin is to be believed,” Shadowheart interjects haughtily as their attention falls on the de facto leader of the rag tag team. Strands of bright hair whip across freckled cheeks as the sorceress silently ambles forward and towards a cobblestone bridge.
“What in the hells is the matter with you?” he screeches over one shoulder as a flame incinerates a shabby drum. It’s a smart, to assure they can’t contact the rest of rather grubby cohorts.
“Would you have rather I smeared shit across my face?” Ilwyn hisses as the two take turns at slew of charging goblins. The Tiefling chuckles, unrestrained as a sharp blade bears down on the weak skull of a fallen enemy.
“I thought it was pretty badass!” then Karlach is bounding up an incline with a roar as a stubby tracker attempts to sprint away.
“As long as the devil enjoys it!” Astarion huffs, grabbing a goblin by shoulder as a sharp blade is driven into the creature’s gut. Innards spill in a puddle while a whiff of burning flesh becomes prominent. “Then I’m glad you tossed dung at such a feral little beast.”
A part of him is impressed that she even thought to do something so childish and petty though it’s ending in a flowing river of blood and corpses. They have the upper hand during the battle though it’s rather messy. Shadowheart casts a series of protective spells as Karlach continues her slaughtering rage. Ilwyn hears the taut swish of arrow soaring through the air, losing track of how many enemies are left to be contended with.
And before she can turn to see the brawler approaching in her periphery, a serrated blade is tearing through a soft belly, blood blossoming across intricate robes. A bolt of light quickly consumes the vile monstrosity but the elf can feel consciousness fading as she reaches for the arm of a velvet doublet.
“What is, my dear?” Astarion licks his lips wolfishly, savoring the metaphorical taste of blood just as much as the literal. “Have another grotesque friend that needs carving?”
But there’s no response as fingers dig deeper against him before being followed by the unmistakable sound of a body slumping against the solid ground.
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under the stars together (part ten)
part one/ part two/ part three/ part four/ part five/ part six/ part seven/ part eight/ part nine/ part ten(smut)/ part eleven& epilogue.(smut)
werewolf!OC x Fem!Reader
warnings: Daddy issues AND Mommy issues, mentions of illness and surgery, acts of violence, mentions of blood & gore, smut, werewolf smut,
word count: 1,600 (about)
summary: the sun is hot on your face as you ride into the unknown. home is to your back and you don't know what the future holds. Just how you like it. You've run here all on your own, and there's nothing tying you down, It would be so easy to pick up and start running again. It's freeing, It's terrifying. You could run, but you're choosing to stay.
You rested against Cole’s chest, half asleep half paying attention to the show on tv. He ran his fingers over your arm thoughtlessly. His touch had become comfortable after just a few weeks of being together. You checked your phone and groaned when you saw the time.
“Time to go?” Cole asked, clearly as disappointed as you were.
“Yes,” you sighed. Your mother had been thrilled when you told her you were seeing Cole, but now whenever you went out with him he waited up for you, no matter how late you stayed out and no matter how many times you told her not to. She hadn’t issued a curfew exactly, but you still resolved to be home at a reasonable hour, for her sake.
You detangled yourself from him and stood. Cole followed you out and placed his hands on your bike.
“Can I see you tomorrow?” you asked, Cole, smiled.
“Full moon tomorrow night. We can do dinner after work if you want, but before the sunsets,” he explained.
“Oh,” you said, You remembered what Cole had told you, he would be ruled by instinct during the full moon.
“Right, you said it could be dangerous,” you said, thoughtfully.
“Dangerous to most people, not to you,” he corrected. You looked at him, confused.
“Why not to me?”
“You’re my mate,” he reminded, “My instincts are different when it comes to you, Normally I hunt, not humans, but if they interrupt my hunt then it’s dangerous, but I wouldn’t want to hunt if you were there for me,” Cole’s voice was a low purr when he finished his sentence, your face burned as you caught on to his meaning.
“You’re bad,” you choked out, and Cole laughed.
“I’m sorry Spitfire, I didn’t mean to tease you, just warning,” he assured,
“And what if I don’t mind playing with fire a little bit?” you asked. Cole’s eyes gleamed darkly.
“Then, yes, you can see me tomorrow,”
You couldn’t tell if you were nervous or excited, you were electric as you pulled into Cole’s driveway, the moon full and high above you. He didn’t come open the door for you, even though you knew he heard you coming, so you let yourself in.
Cole stood and moved to you quickly as you closed the door behind yourself
“Hey-” Cole cut you off before you could speak, he pulled you into a tight embrace and kissed you, slipping his tongue past your lips and stealing your breath. He pushed you back and you felt the door press against you. You wound your fingers through his long dark hair and heard him moan when you tugged. He moved his lips from your mouth to your neck and started kissing
“Missed you,” Cole groaned, before sinking his teeth into the side of your throat. You cried out in surprise, you caught your breath and found you could speak,
“It’s only been a few hours,” you protested. Cole’s crooked a finger into one of the loops on your jeans and tugged your hips forward, crashing your groin against him. He nestled a knee between your legs forcing them open.
“My mate,” he snarled against your neck biting you again, his voice was lower than you were used to, almost as deep as it was when he had shifted for you. It wasn’t Cole talking, it was the wolf.
“I’m going to knot you, I’m going to breed you, my mate,” Cole growled, his eyes were wild and dark with lust. Cole forced himself back from you,
“Can I fuck you?” he rasped.
“Yes,” you agreed and pulled him back to you. Cole moved you from the door and the two of you messily fell to the floor. He gripped your shirt in both of his large hands and ripped the fabric clean from you.
He busied himself kissing your chest, occasionally surprising you with a bite or a harsh sucking, your toes curled every time his mouth passed over your breasts, his tongue lashed out to taste your skin and ran over your hardened nipples. His hands dug into your waist and hips, and he pulled you up and down his thigh, forcing you to grind down on his leg. You moaned and writhed under him and tugged at his hair.
“I can smell it,” he growled his tongue lashing at your stomach, kissing your waist and snipping at the skin just above the waistband of your jeans. “I can smell how wet you are for me, my pretty mate,”
You pitched your hips up and he tugged your pants off, leaving you naked. Cole picked up one of your legs and braised it on his shoulders. He looked at you as he started kissing your ankle, then your calf, then your thigh. He was being gentle now, not gentle, teasing.
“Do you want me, too?” he asked his breath hot on your body. “I want to,” he added.
“Yes,” you confirmed. Cole didn’t hesitate, he settled between your spread legs. He tasted you with long flat licks, against your cunt, he sucked on your clit and kissed your weeping cunt. Your shuddering legs clamped around his head, Cole wrestled your legs off of him and pinned them to the floor. Cole was so much stronger than you it was useless to struggle.
Your hands wound into his hair again and you held him against your sex, bucking your hips up against his mouth, he didn’t stop you as you fucked his face, he let you use his mouth how you wanted. The stubble on his chin and jaw burned as it scratched the inside of your legs, but you could ignore the ache you were so close, so close to cumming that nothing else mattered.
“Fuck, Cole I’m- fuck,” you keened. Cole growled and dug his hands into the flesh of your thighs and buried his face deeper into your folds as you came. Cold didn’t pull away from you until you pushed at his head, even then it felt more like his idea than yours.
Cole picked you up off the floor and started carrying you through the house to his bedroom, the two of you collapsing on his bed. His mouth was on yours again, letting you taste your cum on his lips. Cole discarded his clothes with as much disregard as he’d given yours.
“I want you,” you whimpered, scratching down his back, making him grunt.
“You have me,” he assured you. Cole rolled you onto your stomach and you righted yourself on your hands and knees. He touched you with his large hands, massaging your ass and thighs, and groaning at the way you felt.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” Cole grunted, and you shuddered, Imaging him touching himself every full moon, wishing it was you.
“Show me, what you imagined,” you breathed. Cole eased himself into you, pausing when you inhaled sharply, he was big and he stretched your walls pleasantly. You were still sensitive from your last orgasm, and this added stimulation made your body thrum with energy.
“I’m trying to go easy on you,” Cole rasped into your ear “But you’re just so damn tempting,”
“Please Cole, fuck me,”
He didn’t need any more persuasion, he pulled his hips back, before thrusting into you again. Cole pressed his chest and stomach against your back, fucking himself deeper into you. He leaned down and bit at your neck and your shoulders. Cole grabbed your hips and moved you back and forth on his length all while his hips pistoned back and forth. All the while, he murmured in your ear how good you felt, how pretty you looked taking his dick.
Cole pulled out and flipped you over, he took both of your wrists in one of his hands, hooked your legs around his shoulders, and pushed back into you.
“Mine,” he growled against your mouth as he kissed you. You writhed against him and he squeezed down on your wrists, pushing you further down into the mattress.
“You look so pretty when you’re about to cum,” Cole growled he let go of your wrists and used his hand to cup your face as he kissed you again. You cried out against his mouth as you came again, Cole used this as an opportunity to push his tongue in his mouth.
You were dizzy with pleasure When Cole pushed this cock even further into you and you felt something else enter your cunt, then his hot cum was flooding you. You felt your stoumach bludge with the influx. Cole let out a purr-like noise and laid himself out on the bed beside you without pulling out. He nuzzled your neck and breathed in deeply.
“I wasn’t too rough was I?” he asked his voice back to normal.
“Just the right amount of rough,” you assured, you tried to move but you were caught, Cole grunted.
“Easy, It’ll work, the knot itself out,” he said. Knot.
“Oh, you weren’t joking about that?” you asked Cole laughed and kissed your neck again, you gasped, feeling suddenly more sensitive your skin was already starting to bruise over
“No darling I wasn’t joking, I wasn’t joking about wanting to breed you either,” he growled into your ear. He slipped his hand down and rubbed your lower stomach. “You’re pretty cunt is so full of my cum and I’m going to keep it that way,”
“I’m sensitive,” you warned, you didn’t think you could take it if he started fucking you again.
“Don’t worry darling, I’m sated, for now,” he said, moving his hand away from your stomach, and started stroking your arm.
“Your instincts are satisfied?” you asked, trying to lighten the hot and heavy mood.
"not satisfied exactly, just my priorities have shifted. I want you safe and happy in my arms more than I want you screaming my name and begging me to fuck you,” he said, his cock throbbing inside of you.
“And will your priorities shift back?” you asked
“Most likely.”
—
#werewolf smut#werewolf x reader#werewolf boyfriend#monster fucker#monster lover#monster boyfriend#fem reader#alpha beta omega
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Dread Wolf Take You
A brief reflection in story format on what the Dread Wolf might mean to Ilanlas Mahariel.
"'Dread Wolf take you'."
Ashalle looks up at him, surprised, and Ilanlas scrambles to clarify the sudden insult.
"What does it mean? Why is it so bad to say that?"
"What a question, da'len," Ashalle wonders, eyebrows slightly raised. Surprise, not anger. "May I ask why this is going around your mind?"
Ilanlas shrugs. The shrug doesn't convince him either.
"I have heard it say," he finally says.
Ashalle nods. She doesn't believe him. But she keeps working on his torn tunic.
"You know what the Dread Wolf did, ma da'len," she says.
Ilanlas nods. "Betray the Creators. Lock them away."
"That, and many other things," Ashalle said. "He tried to twist the mind of the Keeper whose hound chased Fen'Harel through the Fade. He asked the man in love to kill the king's only remaining daughter. He allowed a whole village to be slaughtered by a great beast. Why would he do that? What do you think?"
Ilanlas thinks. Is tempted to give up. Thinks harder.
"Because... he is evil?"
"Yes," Ashalle answers with an acquiescent nod. "But more than that, the Dread Wolf is the kind of evil that likes to hurt for hurting's sake. Like when a fox plays with the half-dead mouse before he eats it. Is there a reason for the fox to do so other than to hurt the mouse and watch it be hurt?"
Ilanlas tries to think of a reason why the fox would torment the mouse; the thrill of the hunt comes to his mind, and, unbidden, the surge of hot blood running through his veins when he decimated one of the much taller boys. The memory is replaced by equally hot but much less pleasant shame.
But Ashalle is already talking on; the question wasn't intended to be answered.
"That is the Dread Wolf, da'len. So when you wish the Dread Wolf would take somebody, you wish that they become the mouse, and the Dread Wolf the fox that has caught them. And that is why we do not say those words lightly." She glances up from her work. "Does this answer your question?"
Ilanlas nods, silently. Ashalle gives him a smile and resumes her work on his tunic.
"In case it eases your mind, da'len; I wouldn't judge somebody too harshly if they said those words without understanding their full meaning."
-
The wind bites into his skin and howls through the trees. His nose is numb; so are the tips of his ears. Sleet and ice weigh him down. He has slipped several times already on the gravel that lies everywhere on this steep incline. His legs ache; he pushes himself further. Away. Far, far away.
Tamlen is dead.
Ilanlas doesn't know where he is, or for how long he has been running. He can't stop. Tamlen is dead. He has killed him. He flees from the scene of his crime like a harried deer; like a mouse running from danger.
He cannot escape the sticky, blighted blood on his hands.
His lungs burn. His heart thunders. Tamlen's voice echoes through his thoughts, the choking gasp when he buried his dagger in his chest. The scream: he is still screaming, despite using every whisp of air to fuel his run. But still, he is screaming; locked inside his own ribcage, bound by pants and gasps and the need to breathe, but screaming nonetheless.
Creators, make it stop.
Tamlen is dead. The weight of the realization finally makes him stumble. His knees hit the hard stones of the Frostback mountains. Sharp pain, joined by something warm and wet. Ilanlas balls his bloodied hands into fists and slams them into the ground. The skin on his knuckles breaks. Again. His blood joins Tamlen's. Again. Finally, he can scream out loud again.
Tears fall and freeze on his face. He swore. He swore he would find Tamlen again. And, Creators, he has found him. He wishes he never had.
He should never have searched for him.
Ilanlas is numb. His muscles shake and tremble, his body works to keep him alive in the cold. He should get up. Go back.
He kneels on the ground and lets the snow quietly bury him.
A howl echoes through the night. Slowly, Ilanlas lifts his head. Blinks through lashes that are half frozen shut. A big, dark beast of a wolf stands and stares at him, a mere stone's throw away. Ilanlas can smell it from here; the beast stinks of wet fur, rotten breath and blood. The wolf's frame is thin; it's missing a patch of fur. An outlier, then, most likely hungry and desperate for food. It lowers its head, shows its teeth. Ilanlas watches it as it carefully starts to circle around him. He knows it can smell his blood. The Blight in it doesn't seem to deter it.
He still has the dagger with which he killed Tamlen. He sheathed it without thinking, without cleaning it. He stays where he is: on his knees, hands braced against the hard ground, staring at the wolf.
The wolf snarls and feints towards him. Ilanlas stays and stares at sharp teeth and wild eyes.
Tamlen is dead; his own oath has been twisted against him. Ilanlas has already been a pawn in Fen'Harel's mad games; it is only fitting that the Dread Wolf take him now.
#dragon age#dao#dragon age fanfic#dragon age origins fanfic#warden mahariel#male mahariel#tamlen's death#cw: blood#cw: death#cw: suicidal ideation#ilanlas mahariel#bumble in case you come across this: yes this has been inspired by our rp XD XD XD#my writings
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hello! i'm currently obsessed with "oh lord, it really brings me down" - the whole fic is constructed so nicely and i love the supernatural take on what adam page is going through, as well as the allocations of adam to buck. are there any moments that you wanted to write into it, but ultimately decided not to?
ah, anon, this is so kind! i love that fic very much and am v proud of it: i am thrilled it has managed to also mean something to you. under the cut i will ramble a bit but i also wanted to say i do not bite (unlike adam cole) and i am always thrilled to have people in my dms <3 u are totally welcome to pop in anytime u like <3
firstly cannot let a comment about the structure go without rhapsodising over the efforts of ao3 user eggshellseas who truly saved me!!! i was like "please help me" and she was like "ya, here u go" and then like. it all made sense. her mind!!!! incredible stuff. i am breathlessly, desperately, on tenterhooks (no pressure tho) waiting for her to write some kenny/adam page w gloating vampire adam cole, which is, to me, the platonic ideal of Good Soup.
ok, so. i think the strength of that fic is how strongly anchored it is in nick's point of view. it's a good pov and nick's repression carries a lot of the horror beats because his denial is a solid 1/3 to 1/2 of the creeping unpleasantness in there! like ya adam cole is a vampire eating people but also, what the fuck is up with nick? nothing good, (baybay). however, the exclusivity of nick's pov and his desire to Not See Anything Bad Ever means we really only see a construction of adam that nick is building for himself - until the very end, obviously, when that construction falls apart, and nick is reminded, unpleasantly, that adam is a real person and he has a Real Agenda, he's not just a space upon which nick can localize his ~desire and then avoid it.
the nature of kyle and bobby is a big one i left out, just because nick doesn't care about them! he's not interested! he's interested in if/when they are dangerous to adam/him, but otherwise, he's busy. but i did think about them (and talk about them!). they're not vampires and adam thinks they are in thrall to him because they drink his blood, but they came out on their own and they hang out with adam because they want to. though he probably does have some influence on them, and he wouldn't, like, be totally helpless or without recourse if kyle tried to turn on him. he's got leverage.
i would say the other big one is that nick never makes it explicit that he like, Sexually Desires Adam Cole. and how much adam knows that. (parallel to the depth to which matt desires Adam Page, and the ways in which they have partitioned off desire and allowed it to be separate in that way.) i love repression i think it's very interesting narratively and i think it is an interesting component of the way the bucks present themselves! in this fic the bucks are like pretty carefully tacitly policing each other and allowing like, certain kinds of affection to be made tactile and acceptable whereas other kinds are not. i feel like adam cole knows and thinks it's funny and adam page doesn't know or reads it as something that's a joke about him instead of like, matt sincerely being into him and refusing to accept that about himself.
eggshellseas would probably say how much kenny knows! i think kenny knows a bit more than he's letting on. i like the idea of the bucks thinking of themselves as grandmasters and being super super politicking and proactive, but sometimes they forget that other people are able to move in that way too - the same way they sometimes forget that they're separate people with separate agendas (and separate adams, lmao). kenny i don't think is quite as unaware of whatever it is adam is doing to him as they think: he's also, phantom thread style, comfortable with taking a little damage to make everyone else happy. (especially to let the bucks take care of him. they gotta!!! they love him!!!)
oh also adam is definitely doing a lot of murder. like, they caught him eating a guy one time and that guy was fine? no. he is doing flirt w closeted guys then eat them, and he is doing it En Masse. he's just not doing it at work anymore.
if there's anything in particular you are curious about please feel free to ask! mm, vampires.
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Hidden in the Pines (A Lew Ferris Mystery) by Victoria Houston #Review / #Giveaway @crookedlanebks
Hidden in the Pines (A Lew Ferris Mystery)
Mystery/ Small Town Fiction
2nd in Series with this Publisher
21st in Series Overall
Setting - Wisconsin
Crooked Lane Books (January 10, 2023)
Hardcover : 288 pages
ISBN-10 : 1639101470
ISBN-13 : 978-1639101474
Kindle ASIN : B09XM49DQC
Sheriff Lew Ferris knows how to land a sweet brook trout—but can she catch a cold-blooded killer in the thrilling second installment in the Lew Ferris mysteries.
It’s Lew Ferris’s first day as the newly-elected Sheriff of McBride County, and already things are heating up in the Wisconsin Northwoods. The tragic drowning of a teenage girl draws an eerie parallel to the unsolved murder of another teen thirty years earlier, but one of Lew’s new subordinates—Alan Stern, Chief of the Deer Haven Police Department—has ruled it an accidental death by drowning. Neither Lew nor the girl’s family accept the ruling, but Lew is up against a wall of sexism and subterfuge. Not only is Stern belligerent and dismissive of Lew, but he takes the word of the local coroner, Ed Pecore, who Lew believes is completely unqualified for the job.
Adding to Lew’s headaches, an unwelcome interference in the case by a multimillionaire resident reopens a cold case that stretches back decades—and could lead to an anguished relative taking justice into his own hands to avenge a crime the cops never solved. And when Lew’s dear friend, Dr. Paul “Doc” Osborne, finds himself witness to a sophisticated money laundering scheme that could threaten the lives of his daughter and her close friend, Lew finally feels like she’s reached the breaking point.
The fish may be biting in McBride County—but now, Lew is on the line to uncover the long-buried secret that could ensnare a killer once and for all.
Dollycas's Thoughts
Newly elected Sheriff Lew Ferris isn’t going to have a lot of time for flyfishing as she tries to get things in order in McBride County, Wisconsin.
Deer Haven Chief of Police, Alan Stern is livid when he finds out his new boss is looking into a case he had closed and ruled as accidental. The case has been brought to Lew’s attention by the family’s lawyer because the family does not accept the girl’s death was accidental. When Lew sees that Ed Pecore, the county’s embarrassment of a coroner is behind the ruling she agrees to take a second look. The case has a lot of similarities to an unsolved case from 30 years ago.
Meanwhile, Dr. Paul “Doc” Osborne receives some stunning information that could put the lives of his daughter and her friend in danger. He is going to need some help from Lew to keep them safe.
Lew’s first days as Sheriff are going to be filled with mayhem as she juggles it all trying to uncover the truth to finally put a killer behind bars where he belongs.
_____
While this is the second book in the series from Crooked Lane, there were 19 books featuring this cast of characters prior to those. Don’t worry the author will give you enough details to feel quite a home no matter where you jump into the series.
I have enjoyed this series so much. The characters are like old friends. I do love that Lew took the leap and has become the Sheriff of the whole county after being Chief of Police for Loon Lake for years. She is qualified and strong enough to deal with the flack she is going to receive by being a woman in typically man’s position. Her relationship with the man in her life, Doc Osborne is comfortable and realistic. I liked that his daughter had a role in this story. Ray Pradt continues to be a fave. He is truly a man with his own set of rules and talents and is always game for anything.
We do meet a very interesting new character in this story connected to the 30-year-old open case. I hate to say too much but she fits in really well with everyone and I am happy that it looks like she will be sticking around.
The mysteries are very interesting with some nice moments of suspense. The cold case really tugged at my heartstrings. Still being haunted by something that happened so long ago was a huge load to shoulder. I was so happy that by the end of this book, the character finally had some closure.
As always, the author’s descriptions of life in the Wisconsin Northwoods are always a delight. The places, the actions and the dialogues always ring true. The flyfishing excursions always remind me of my grandfather. I can always picture him in his waders, reel in his hand, just around the next curve from where Doc and Lew are. He has been gone a very long time but he was happiest casting out a line just like so many characters in these stories.
Victoria Houston is such a fine storyteller and her love of the Northwoods always shines. I am always able to escape right into her stories. Hidden in the Pines is a terrific addition to this series. I can’t wait for my next visit up north.
Your Escape Into A Good Book Travel Agent
About the Author
Victoria Houston is the author of the Loon Lake mysteries as well as several nonfiction books on family issues. She has been featured on the front page of The Wall Street Journal and on NPR. She lives, writes, and fishes in northern Wisconsin.
To find out more about Victoria Houston
visit her webpage here and Facebook here.
Check out The Loon Lake Mysteries
to see how these characters started out.
Thanks to the publisher I have 1 hardcover copy to give away!
with a US or Canadian mailing address.
Duplicate entries will be deleted. Void where prohibited.
You do not have to be a follower to enter but I hope you will find
something you like here and become a follower.
Followers Will Receive 2 Bonus Entries For Each Way They Follow.
Plus 2 Bonus Entries For Liking My Facebook Fan Page.
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10 INPUT " @dcwnrisen ",
A $ IF ASK (Q $) = 0 THEN GOTO REPLY
PRINT “ don’t just stand there, looking at me. ” ,
A $ INPUT "random_dialogue_prompts"; S
gaze slowly shifts to the side. casually, non-chalantly. there’s a deliberately casual shrug as if he bleeds red. prosthetic hand comes up, blood stained fingers coming up to wipe at the blood on his face only to smear it further. his eyes snap back to her when he finally speaks after having spent the past few minutes in silence, not having bothered to speak up when she first barged in on him standing in the dark covered in blood. it’s not his and he is aware that she knows that but whether she’s concerned or annoyed he cannot fully decipher quite yet. he’s almost as silent as him and despite the tension in the air all it does is further that vague sense of amusement.
he lifts his head, takes two or three long steps before he’s in front of her. then his head tilts to the side a bit, the blood running over his lips as he gives a toothy grin. this was to be expected, he reasons. he’s a monster, has always been one and would always be one. the only difference between now and the past is that he was forcibly given a near angelic face to contrast his disgusting habits and bloodshed. were it not for those soulless eyes perhaps he’d be able to fool even people that knew him. but instead all he does is lean down a little, still grinning.
「 are you implying red is not my color? 」
he whispers hoarsely, as if his throat was parched when in reality all that was happening was he tried to keep his voice low. there’s amusement swinging in his tone like a bat, the dark, almost unhinged kind that threatens to reveal how many times he’s barely managed to pull himself back from the edge. his unbloodied hand comes up, plays with her hair as he leans down a little, as his face gets dangerously close, stays in place for a moment as if waiting for permission.
and then he kisses her almost innocently before giving a rough chuckle, bites the corner of her lips just hard enough to draw a little blood. somehow he feels almost alive in the prospect of playing with fire - or well, lightning. having felt dulled out for most of what he can remember as kazimir has caused the prospect of any sort of thrill; fight or not, to make him almost mindless when he jumps to the chance of it. he pulls back, is almost gentle when his thumb traces over her lip to wipe away the little bit of blood that has collected there while he licks the blood from his own lips. he smirks, thoroughly entertained. he’s fucked up. but it’s not like lysandra didn’t know that beforehand. his voice is teasing, playful when he speaks again, almost prideful.
「 i, for one think red fits me very well. 」
#suggestive tw#idk i guess??#jesus FUCK he is UNHINGED today#anyways remember when you sent this??#i PROMISED you smth funny but instead it turned into kazimir being *fingers touching* this close to being unhinged completely#anyways :):):):) here have this fucked up mess :)#<3#› you crazy-ass cosmonaut; remember your virtues. reply#blood tw#dcwnrisen
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Heey! I dont know if the request are open or not but, do you think that the lost boys (poly, please if is not a bother) would care when their girlfriend moves in to the cave, and she brings her pet with her? (In my case would be my cat, but the pet is your choice)
Poly!Lost Boys x Reader with a pet
It was only a question of time. You were supposed to move in with them, it was obvious. You had been dating for several months already and their night schedule caused you some problems, but not enough to refuse your love for them. You stayed with them through thick and thin, knew their secret. So you were supposed to move in eventually.
Guys had been in your place one too many times. It was small for their taste, not very convenient, so they always nudged you to be closer to them. So they would be sure nothing has happened to you or to be able to cuddle you whenever e.c.
What they didn't know that you had one itsy bitsy tiny pet, that really wasn't so tiny and had to be cared for and you couldn't let them just be. You locked them in a spacey room, so they won't meet with boys unexpectedly. You weren't sure how any of them would react to each other.
So of course you had to tell them the truth. It's not like you can hide a living being from four vampires. David wasn't exactly thrilled, Dwayne was okay and Paul and Marko were excited to meet them.
"It's a drag to have a pet here. In the cave. With lots of dangerous places." David wasn't the fan of the idea and made sure everyone knew that. "Paul managed to live through it." Dwayne shrugged at this state. "Hey, I'm not that stupid!" Paul was pouting right now and only Marko had a valid question for you. "And... What animal you say you have, babe?"
Cat. Okay, it wasn't so scary. Cats were more or less independent, so you won't have to worry about the mess or the fact that you need to walk them or pay extra attention to every aspect of its life.
At first David didn't make any effort to notice them. He was just glad that you finally stayed with them. Then, he is furious. Because there was hair. Everywhere. Literally. In their secret stash with blood. In their food, on his coats. He especially doesn't become their fan when he has understood the fact that he could smell its pee. But the cat seemingly likes him. It likes to lay on his knees, purrs and meows to him, when it is hungry. So with time he starts to get along with it. At least David doesn't threaten to throw it in the ocean anymore. Especially when it claws at Paul, who is too annoying. He can live with that.
Dwayne has read all he could about the right way to care for the cat. He has read about the food, he read about the toys, treats and everything he could find. He knew that your pet was too important for you, so he wanted you and your pet to be happy in the cave. He has hidden some of the bottles from cat, so they wouldn't wake up with pools of blood everywhere. He plays with it, but makes sure it won't bite him or others (who knows what vampire blood can do with the cat). The cat likes him and always goes straight to him, when others don't give it the treats or enough affection. He likes when it lays down on his chest, while he reads the book or takes a nap. It is the most favourite moment of his. After cuddling with you of course.
Paul is in love. He likes cute things. And cute people. And cute animals. If it were up to him, he would bring every stray animal he meet out there. So when you bring over your cat - he is beyond happy. He plays with it, always cuddles with it. And he pouts when it claws him or tries to attack him. And no, cat likes all of them more or less after some time. But... He is Paul. He is too much sometimes. Even for a cat. But when he's high and lazy, the cat stays with him pretty much all the time. And meows especially loud, when he's about to do stupid stuff.
Marko is not a fan of cat. Of course it's cute and everything, but... His pigeons. He is worried for them. Because cats attack birds usually, and he doesn't want his precious little cute pigeons suffer from it. But when he sees that your cat is pretty well behaved and doesn't see anything interesting in hunting birds, when it can have literally any food from you, his relationship with it improves immensely. The cat likes him pretty much like all the others. But since he always seem to smell like birds, it carries over any dead mice, rats, birds (not his pigeons) only to him. With time he doesn't even freak out from little bodies.
They are worried that you won't be willing to turn, because you would outlive your pet. Dwayne even tries to research the question of turning your pet into an immortal one. But with time every one of them comes to the terms of waiting for your decision. Everyone. But David, he still asks you regularly about turning.
At least you don't have a dog. Or anyone exotic for that matter.
The Lost Boys Taglist: @minafromasgard @starmullet @iloveslasher @twistedharper @ichorixm @promptsforstuff @collieflower215 @henhouse-horrors @smenny @id-rather-be-in-middle-earth
#tlb#thelostboys#thelostboys1987#tlb1987#david tlb#marko tlb#paul tlb#tlb dwayne#poly lost boys#poly lost boys x reader#lost boys x reader#the lost boys imagine#tlb imagine#reader insert#x reader#female reader
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Curiosity Killed The Cat...
Sukuna x Reader
◙warnings: Monster fucking, monster tongue cunnilingus, size kink ish, full nelson, a bit of objectification, virgin! reader, blood kink, dacryphilia, multiple orgasms, belly bulge and lowkey cumflation, I say you’re “small” but it’s compared to him and he’s huge, marking, smut minors dni (18+) I block blogs with no age indication
◙word count: 3k
◙summary: You’re too curious for your own good but this experience is too satisfying to pass up. Especially with a powerful monster such as this.
◙note: make sure to read the warnings real good please <3
All your life your technique has gotten you in trouble. Not just your technique but the combination of its ability and your personality is… chaotic at best.
The sheer amount of times your mother has said “Curiosity killed the cat,” is uncountable. But you are all too stubborn, too curious. A simple fascination with the bizarre and unknown can get you in dangerous situations, yes. But the satisfaction of knowing, experiencing is too euphoric to give up.
Plus, you could keep shifting into different domains to escape if anything particularly hostile showed up. It’s not like you weren’t trained either but being the ephemeral child of the estate, fading in and out too often to put your focus onto being train in close combat. What a dangerous sorcerer you could be if you put your mind to it. You are just too inquisitive, prying at the seams of every single thing you know or learn, to try to focus on something so simple, so boring like close combat. Which has grown increasingly frustrating with your mentors and parents.
But who cares? You get to see oceans in the blink of an eye, curious voids made of shadows, places that look like they’ve been taken over by nature, and others that have no life insight. Repetitive buildings that go on forever, others that reach higher than the sky. Some are much more ominous but the strength of your curiosity overpowers any fear you could possibly hold.
Each day you keep trying to find a new sight, a new place to adventure. Sometimes it’s harder than it looks. The best places have the best barriers, so powerful it feels like you bounce off them but they never resist long. Some who reside in that domain are curious too, usually, they are not home or you can evade them quite easily. They become too comfortable in their own domains but it���s not like you are trying to hurt them.
Mother is calling you again before you run off somewhere she won’t be able to find you, looking particularly frantic this time, tugging at your yukata.
“Just because you’re an adult doesn’t mean you should be hopping around like a stupid frog in others domains. You’re too reckless, we won’t be able to find you if something happens,” she is panting as she holds her chest, “you know, what I’ve been telling you is true — curiosity-”
“Curiosity kills the cat,” every time she says that it feels like it’s incomplete, that there’s something missing. You roll your eyes and huff a bit but it’s not like she can stop you from leaving, “I know. I’ll be safe.”
That’s a lie. At least you never try to be safe even though you evade most of the curses. You learn as you watch them, you learn when they try to chase after you or even talk.
Wiggling your mother’s grip off you, you slip behind a corner and when she tries to follow you, you’re already gone. Slipping away quickly out of this reality and into the next. She didn’t get to tell you about the bad feeling she had.
Wet. That’s the first thing you can process when you enter this new domain. Red liquid soaking the edges of your yukata. Something blood-like but more like wine. Then it’s the overbearing weight of a fear that you’ve never felt before. An involuntary reaction, something akin to when prey realize the eyes of a hunter is on them — a feeling to run or freeze or fight washes over you but still this fear is nothing compared to your interest in what the hell is here with you.
It’s almost hard to lift your head at the weight, slowly dragging your eyes upwards, over ram skulls and the curious liquid that you’re starting to realize is definitely a mixture of blood, up to a throne and on the throne-
Whoever you’re looking at is big — thick muscly legs exposed casually as he sits, four arms swirling around a ram skull, looking bored but each of his four eyes shine. A smirk set on his cheeks and a heavy smile on his belly.
Interesting, is the first thing he thinks when he feels you enter. When he sees you the second thought is this will be fun. Is it strange you are thinking something similar?
He stares at you — a challenge of whether or not you will speak or him. But you meet his eyes, which most don’t dare, and a sly, satisfied smile stretches on your face.
A split second is all it takes for him to disappear. When you try you look around, feet shuffling backward to try to see more you’re met with a broad chest. Two hands ghosting over your ribs and another bringing your face back to look at him. No, for him to look at you. To inspect you.
“It’s not often a human stumbles upon my domain,” voice rough and demanding just like his presence, vibrating through your body as he pulls you close to him.
You’re hesitant to speak, what could you even say? You’re special? Or that you’re stupid enough to do this shit?
Before you can even try to formulate a response, the hand holding your face wraps loosely around your throat. Not squeezing but enough of a threat to make you swallow — skin warm, blood pumping with adrenaline. It’s almost deafening — the blood making your ears feel full and able to hear every little movement his kimono makes. You can hear the mouth on his belly move before you feel it. Matching the sadistic smile he wears on his face. You are so much smaller than him, so powerless before him. It’s not like you could activate your technique with him touching you either. Maybe you should have listened to your mother-
“You’re soft but with a technique like this you could be useful,” the two hands that were just ghosting your body press into your hips, groping at what they can, “your body too.”
His nails skim over the skin his hands can find exposed, jostling your yukata until more and more of your skin is bare to him. Part of you feels like maybe you should stop his hands, back away, figure a way out of this domain but… this is exactly what you wanted isn’t it? The excitement, the thrill, the satisfaction of experiencing something new.
Under thick hands and sharp nails, he can feel your blood rushing, warm and lively. Almost entranced with the feeling against your skin, you don’t even realize he’s turned you towards him, yukata thrown somewhere near some skulls and catching on their horns most likely. He shouldn’t be touching you, flinching away would be a reaction more warranted but why is it that you lean into his touch like so. Falling into his haunting warmth so obediently, his hands groping over soft supple skin and nails scratching so lightly over the doughiest parts of your body and molding into his muscles.
Snapping out of your trance just a bit, his tattoos cause your eyes to trail over his body as his own clothing falls off his body, carelessly. Prideful, like some ancient statue standing tall after years of wear and erosion that could never take away from its composition. He’s looking down at you like he would anybody but the lust that gleams in his eyes makes you feel special, wanted. Reaching a dainty hand out, tracing the edges of the mouth on his belly bellow rippling set abs. He holds his breath a bit — because no one has ever dared reach back for him.
Truly interesting you are, a sadistic smile settling on his face as two hands set under your ass, hiking you up to him even as you yelp in surprise. But you cling to him, finding comfort in the strength of his arms and it dawns on him once more, “you are so small.”
Small compared to him at least, almost kitten-like, “Small? Or are you just very big?” He throws his head back in a short raspy laugh, loud and echoing across walls you can’t see but it makes you smile nonetheless even as he holds you completely bare to him. Naked as the day you were born but no attempt to cover yourself, something wicked leaking from your bones as he holds you, hands big enough to cover the important parts of your body no matter what size, the softness of your thighs pressing between his fingers.
The audacity you have is so… you tread on a thin line but you’re finding your balance as he holds the line taut. Top set of hands trailing over your arms and breasts, caressing your neck as you bare it to him with sly heady eyes. This plaything just might be worth the trouble.
He presses your legs to his sides, cunt directly on the mouth of his belly as he lets it open. Fear is one thing that runs through your veins, the teeth looking quite intimidating near your nethers but it does nothing to bite. Letting a long slick tongue slink out and tease your folds, hands and nails digging into your ass sharply to keep your cunt pressed onto the tongue that is decorated with a similar tattoo like the ones that decorate his body.
“You’re untouched,” he can taste it on his tongue. Flowering into the heat of his body as he tastes your juices. A virgin. Perfect. As you should be, to be deflowered by him is an honor and you should be thanking him for even touching you. Letting your innocent cunt be defiled by a monstrous tongue… it just feels too good to stop. But it does make you squirm, his gaze and the rough texture of the tongue lapping at you combined with his nails digging far too deep into the flesh of your ass. Warm stinging pain as he holds you flush to his tongue, writhing while the red warmth glides slowly down, adding to the red liquid staining his feet. Fleetingly you wonder if this is how there is so much red water here. Not exactly blood but definitely could be a mix.
There’s no time to process the pain, he makes sure that you only feel pure unadulterated pleasure. The tip of the giant tongue writhing against your hole as if requesting access to your virgin cunt. Pressing in while you gasp at the feeling, the mixture between pain and lewd pleasure muddling your brain as you moan helplessly in his arms.
His four eyes catch everything. Soaking in the sight of your face, eyes rolling back and moaning shamelessly whenever his tongue rolls into you just right, he can feel you coming closer to rapture while your legs tremble. The smirk he wears is all too sexy, seductive. Falling so willingly into his arms with an overflowing curiosity for what you don’t yet know. He hums and oh when he does you can feel it vibrate through him and to the tip of the tongue that’s wiggling on the entrance of your cunt. You’ve long past the pleasure you can produce by yourself, with your own two fingers, now it’s a gasping almost painful rip starting from your cunt to your belly in waves. Cunt fluttering around the tip of the tongue that has droplets of blood on it either from your virgin pussy or from the blood produced from his nails.
You don’t even know what name to call out, and as if reading your thoughts he laughs at your depraved babbles being pushed out of your body.
“Sukuna,” he draws you closer to him in one breath, words ghosting over your face, “call my name, little moaning lamb.”
Trailing your hands across the markings on his body, across the sinew of his neck you moan into him as he looks down upon you, “Sukuna, please.”
He looks satisfied, prideful while your fingers graze his jaw, “please, what lamb?” A cue for you to use your words and no matter what you say he will destroy you.
Earlier he called you untouched, detecting your virginity like a snake, “touch me, please,” begging into his pectorals as he retracts the monstrous tongue back into his belly.
“Less of a lamb, more of a vixen,” you feel a large fleshy member slide across the blood that warms the globes of you behind. He chuckles at your shiver, letting the bulbous tip trace over your wet folds. A type of fear crosses your face and he savors the expression, handling you like a live ragdoll.
You know he wouldn’t listen if you ask him to go slower, to prepare your cunt for the stretch but you have an inkling of what he might be thinking, something about how you’re lucky enough to receive his tongue and how virgin pussy is the best when fucked raw and unprepared besides the wetness coating your thighs. It’s not like you want the nails digging into your behind to be inside you either, so you bear with his tip gliding along your slippery folds, getting stuck on your hole as he presses you lower and lower. Tip breaching your cunt with a loud gasp of pain and pleasure as you feel his laughter while bracing yourself against his chest. Your own nails dig into his chest, drawing some of his own blood but he basks in the feeling. Barely a stinging pain but just enough to know you’re pawing at his chest trying to bear the fullness of his cock stretching your rim. Basking in how you shiver against him, filled with pride.
“You should be thankful I am the one to be deflowering you. A God like me, bouncing you, a little helpless mortal, on my blessed cock,” he sinks you a bit lower, the fluttering of your tight hole making his tongue run across his teeth, “women would beg for me, but here you are. What should you be saying to me, little vixen?”
There’s only him feeling your head, his deep voice filling your body while his cock does the same, trying to formulate a response. Babbling out, “tha-thank you-” gasping once more, sinking one more inch or two, “thank you, so much, Sukuna.” You can feel his cock, or that of it that’s inside you, twitch as the sound of your voice.
“You will take all of me.”
He leaves no room for objections, not that you have any to plea for him to hear. Yet you still nod against his chest as he sinks you lower and lower. Luck looks upon you in the way that you are wet enough to take him so your hole does not tear. You feel so impossibly full. He’s in your guts while your walls encase him so tightly, any other man would be gasping in pleasure but he is no man. The occasional grunt he blesses you with while he fills you, now completely inside you, balls flush to your bloody ass. His other set of hands ghost over your chest, a quick fondle before wrapping around your ribs to bring you up and off until only the tip is in you once more and then bringing you mercilessly down again. The claw marks in his chest only get deeper while your yelps and moans echo off the unknown walls.
Beautiful claws sinking into his chest, he’s again hit with the fact that you are incredibly intriguing. You and your cunt enrapture him endlessly, falling him into a curious sentiment. A small human to ensnare him… he’s not sure if he likes the thought or not but what he does like — no, love — is you wailing on his cock about how you can feel all of him inside you. Slick your hole produces coating his cock so deliciously while your body accepts him wholly. You swear you could taste his cock in your throat if you focused hard enough, it does feel like your belly extends to accept him and as you finally gaze down to yourself, you realize it is.
With every thrust downwards his cock descends your tummy that he’s been watching this whole time and it only makes your gummy walls flutter rapidly around his cock once more, sending you over the edge once again, pulling an orgasm from your body.
He chuckles once more, watching as tears trail down your face, orgasm wracking your body as he continues to focus on your abdomen, hand trailing down to press at your stomach while the rest keep you steady and bouncing. Horrid wet slapping, fluids mixing together down his leg, groans resonating from his chest as he feels his hand through the skin of your abdomen. Your babbling moans and tears coating your face only spur him further, cock throbbing inside you as he releases his cum inside you. Ruthlessly filling all the spaces his cock couldn’t with a resounding grunt, cum gushing out of your cunt and most of it stretching your tummy even more than his cock before he pulls it out, white rushing out of your body while one more orgasm is pulled away from you.
Laying tired and used in his arms, he finally speaks “well, look at you vixen.”
You successfully took all of him, even if your body couldn’t handle the amount of cum he pumped into you he could just try again until he’s fully satisfied. Looking down at your sloppy cunt, covered in cum and trickling blood mixing with it and other liquids you can’t discern. Your hole feels like it’s gaping from the stretch his cock put you through. It is quite the sight for him to see, his cum claiming your insides and the marks on your behind claiming your outsides. You throw your head back into his hand and giggle. Red eyes peering down at you in curiosity, body buzzing and fuzzy, satisfied with your hands stroking his chest.
You finally remember what was missing from that stupid phrase your mother would preach to you:
“Curiosity killed the cat…
but satisfaction brought it back.”
𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰: @kenmachishi @novvabeam @armins-bowl-cut @yourtamaki @jeonmahito @peachysimp @thethyri @undereiner and thank you to all the people who said yes to belly bulge y’all really helped me: @pupimouto @junisfics @katsukied @aqueencomplexx @dabitdabi @jeankirstins @viixens @iit-s-kitty
𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔨 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔯𝔢𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔤 !!
//: 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙
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Good little wife
Note - Inspired by a request I got long ago and written for the happy hoelidays challenge I'm cohosting with my sister hoes @navybrat817 and @stargazingfangirl18 . I used the prompts two idiots in love + Character A loves Christmas. Character B hates it. A melts Bs cold heart Dividers by @firefly-graphics .
Summary - Your husband makes up to you for being a Grinch and a meanie to you throughout your marriage.
Warnings - 18+ only, smut(m/f), dub con, older man/younger woman, arranged marrige, leaking nudes, daddy kink, blood play, virginity/innocence kink, loss of virginity, virgin reader, painful sex, misogyny, mob activities.
Pairing - Mob!Andy Barber x reader
Word count - 8k
“You look beautiful, cookie,” your mother raved, pressing her lips to your cheek, “He’s a lucky man.”
You only hummed. Staring at your refection, seeing someone you didn’t even recognize.
Your white lace dress somewhat conservative, still really pretty, something you would’ve been more than happy to wear if your circumstances weren’t so depressing.
You almost let out a sardonic laugh, you didn’t get to choose your husband but at least you chose your wedding gown.
“It’ll be alright,” your mother picked at your hair, noticing your evident sadness, you’ve never been one to hide how you feel anyway, “you’ll learn to love him. He’s very successful.”
“I always thought ‘money doesn’t make you happy',” something she had said to you so many times over the years.
“That’s just a fairy tale. People fall out of love, run out of things to talk about, men cheat, in the end all that’s left is how well he can provide for you,” she stated.
You checked your phone as soon as you could, going through your messages to see if your boyfriend, or rather your now ex boyfriend, had sent you anything. You still naively hoped that he'd come on a white horse and sweep you off and away, so you wouldn’t have to marry someone you’ve else. So you wouldn’t have to give up your freedom forever and just be someone’s wife.
But you saw nothing. He hadn’t talked to you, not since your father found out about you both. Since he was from a family your daddy hated with a passion, and you were supposed to as well, your father made you cut all times with him. Locked you in your room in a timeout till you came to your senses.
After over three weeks he came to you, telling you how he was ready to forgive you and move on. You were so happy. For a minute you let yourself believe that this was your father, he loved you unconditionally, of course he'd set aside whatever vain feud he has and let you be with your love.
All your hopes were crushed when he told you he had selected a husband for you whom you have to marry in just a month. That you had to drop out of college since you wouldn’t need that degree anyway.
You always did believe that he had your best interests at heart, you wanted to believe it this time as well, but you just couldn’t.
Cringing inwardly when he kissed your cheeks, “You look beautiful,” he told you, cold eyes staring at you, “Don’t try anything stupid. Andrew is a good man,” he looped your arm in with his.
“He’s more than a decade older than me,” you argued, biting your lip as he squeezed your arm to warn you.
You slapped a fake smile on your face, walking down, one step after another as everyone looked at you in awe.
This is supposed to be the happiest day of your life...
But when you looked at Andy waiting for you at the alter you felt nothing but grave anxiety which made your teeth clatter, his palms joined together at his front, he did look handsome with his tux and neat beard. You have had a crush on him for a long time but you’ve never even had a real conversation with him, you didn’t know him. No one did.
Your heart filled with dread as your father handed you over to Andy, patting him on his shoulder, “Take good care of her.”
“I will,” Andy smiled.
You weren’t really there, maybe your body was but your soul had left you to maybe make the whole ordeal less painful. The priest read the vows asking you if you were ready to take him as your husband forever.
“I do,” since you had no other choice.
“I do,” he repeated.
You felt a shiver jolt up your spine when his fingers grazed yours, putting the thin silver band on your finger before lifting your veil to press his lips to yours, giving you a chaste, barely there kiss as everyone cheered you on.
The rest of the evening was a blur, you could barely register what had happened, everyone sweetly calling you ‘Mrs Barber’ only making you more nervous.
Andy however, was cordial and formal as always, shaking their hands and thanking them.
Since you hadn’t really taken any dance lessons you were left to simply wing it with him at your first dance. With your clammy hands in his you tried to match his pace as he lead you, bumping into his feet with yours more than once.
He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “Relax,” making you shudder.
You looked up at him, he had barely said two words to you but your grandmother often said ‘Eyes are the windows to the soul’.
And Andy’s eyes were so... kind, like a blue ocean you could happily drown in. He almost looked at you as if he were fond of you.
Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad...
You didn’t really expect Andy to carry you over the threshold, that was just a silly little fantasy you’ve always had and you knew he’d never indulge you in it but he didn’t even hold the door open for you.
You looked around his condo, so grey and boring, looked like it was out of a magazine catalogue, you felt so out of place there.
Naturally, you followed him to his bedroom, watching him wake his coat off, followed by his cuffs as he rolled his sleeves up.
You went over what you wanted to say in your head, how do you tell your husband that you’re a virgin, on your wedding night--that was something your grandmother never gave you advice on. You could’ve used her wisdom then.
With your mouth suddenly dry you tried to speak as he poured himself a drink, “Um... I’ve...”
“What?” he looked at you, quirking a brown brow up.
“Nothing,” you shook your head as you took a seat on the edge of the bed. “This is a nice house.”
“You can take the guestroom,” he said bluntly.
“What?”
“You can take the guestroom. I’ve already put all your bags there, you can decorate it however you like but don’t touch anything else.”
“But I...I’ve never heard of husband and wife sleeping in different rooms.”
“That’s true, it is unusual. This is not a normal marriage though, is it?” His tone so frustratingly patronising, as if he was talking to a child.
You’ve never really been appreciated for your mind, women never are--not where you come from, even your love Alex only ever thought of you as a ‘pretty face’. But Andy didn’t need to spell it out for you, “You... don’t want me...” you realised.
He only scoffed. He’d never been one for long term relationships, he had tried but he could never give himself to another person, women often called him emotionally unavailable, his demanding and dangerous job did contribute a lot to that, but more than that it was his unwillingness to change. He was self aware enough to know that but he didn’t need anyone else. He didn’t want to be tied down or to have a nagging immature wife.
“But why...” you wondered. Sure, you weren’t thrilled to marry him, but now you had accepted it and wanted to make the best of your new life. You thought he wanted the same.
“Why would I want you?” he spat. “ You’re nothing but a spoilt rich girl who’s had everything handed to her. Who was ungrateful and stupid enough to fraternize with the enemy.”
You let out a shaky exhale, looking at him with teary eyes, “I loved him...”
“You don’t know the first thing about love,” he rolled his eyes.
“He loved me too! But I’m willing to put that behind me. I made a vow to you.”
“You really don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?” you frowned.
He took his phone out of his pocket, opening his gallery to show you the compromising pictures you had sent to your ex, “He shared that with everyone, it was all just a ploy to humiliate your father.”
You gasped, taking his phone in your trembling hand, your breasts exposed as you shyly looked at the camera. You had flat out refused to send him a nude when he asked for it but then he threatened to break up with you, to go after your best friend, even called you a prude because you hadn’t slept with him. At the moment you felt as if you had no choice but to do it...
“He wouldn’t,” you sobbed.
“And because of your stupidity I had to marry you since no one else would ever want you,” he said. But then regretted it as you just started crying harder. He thought of maybe trying to console you but what would he even say?
He took the phone from you before you could even think of deleting the photos. He used them to pleasure himself almost every night. Maybe he was an idiot, he could have the real thing, yet he was pushing you away, “Go to your room,” he told you which made you sob even moreso.
You looked up at him, begging him for a hug, for some sort of comfort or sympathy but his face was cold and harsh. Finally gathering your wits you went to the other room, ready to cry yourself to sleep.
No matter how beautiful you were, you were still thrusted upon him, you didn’t love him, you never could because you never even had a choice
“Perfect,” you beamed, setting down the chicken pot pie you had just cooked up.
Your grandmama had always told you that a wife should be a cook in the kitchen and a whore in the bedroom. So that her man would never stray.
And while you hadn’t had a chance to be a whore for Andy... something that you were looking forward to, you hoped the fresh home cooked meal, the holiday season and decorations you had spent the past few days working on would put him in the mood. To maybe accept you as his wife.
For the past six months you had tried everything, making him breakfast, packing his lunch, offering him massages, even trying to help him with his work but he was always so cold to you.
You feared that this is how it will be forever. He would never love you, not the way you’ve always loved him. Even when he was so cruel towards you.
But you were nothing if not resilient. So you said chuck it and went all out. Decorating your whole house, with a real tree for the past few days while Andy was out on a work trip for thanksgiving. Maybe you could surprise him and he’d realise just how much he lucked out with you.
You even went with a more risqué outfit than you usually would. Your little emerald green skirt with pleats was a bit too short and impractical for the cold winters but you were going to stay inside anyway. It was topped off with a tight burgundy blouse and a push up bra which made your girls look enticing and some red pumps.
With a pumpkin pie for dessert in the oven, your salads done and the gingerbread flavored candles lit up you were good to go.
So you sat on the couch, watching 'A Christmas story' for the hundredth time to kill time till he gets home and to distract your nervous mind.
After ninety minutes the movie was over but Andy still wasn’t home. You tried calling him but it kept going to voicemail.
Frustrated, but determined to follow through with your ‘Seduce Andy Barber’ plan you put on another movie, chewing your lip till it bled as you impatiently waited for him.
Soon it was midnight, your food got cold and the rumbling in your tummy became more prominent so you decide to eat your dinner, put the leftovers in the freezer and cut your losses.
You were almost done with your dishes when your husband coming into the apartment, turning around you saw him hang his coat on the back of the chair and plomp down on it. He groaned, pulling the sleeves of his shirt up to reveal his bulky forearms.
“You’re home,” you said, taking off your apron so he could see your little get up.
He didn’t smile at you like you expected he would, he didn’t say ‘Good job’ like you thought he would. He certainly didn’t look like he wanted to bend you over the dining table and take you then and there. He simply frowned at you. Looking at you as if your mere existence offended him.
“I told you; you were allowed to decorate your room however you liked. Not the whole apartment,” he growled, rubbing a hand over his face.
“What? I did it for you... I thought you would like it, ” you stood there, dumbfounded, shifting from one foot to another, “You don’t like Christmas.” You realised.
“No, I don’t. Christmas isn’t all fun and jolly for everybody. I’ve never had anyone to celebrate it with,” he did you a once over, his pants tightening uncomfortably as he took in your little ensemble.
He had never had a single good Christmas in his whole life. He’d usually spend it either working or drinking. But now, he had you, his good little wife who had gone out of her way to do all this just for him.
He could kiss your red lips then and there, finally do what he’s been wanting to go for the past few months and make love to you, eat the delicious meal you had made him because he was fucking starving.
But then he realized how easily you could be taken away from him. How this was all so fickle.
“Do you want a divorce?” he crossed his hands over his chest, as if daring you to give a wrong answer, “If you do, I’ll give you one right now.”
“I - ” you strutted, you didn’t really know, “Daddy would never let that happen.” To which he scoffed.
Your father would kill you both if this marriage failed. He knew that, why would he still be willing to risk everything?
“Where are you going?” you asked when he got up from the chair.
“To my room, to sleep,” he sighed.
He knew what you would say, he knew you were daddy’s little girl who’d die before disappointing her father, which was solely why you were with him, and yet he let himself fall for you and get hurt.
You tugged on his shirt, ready to beg him to at least eat the meal you made for him but then you frowned, inhaling the feminine perfume from his shirt, mixed with his own Cologne, you took a step back, your eyes brimming with tears as you realised he might’ve been with another woman.
While you were home slaving away to make everything perfect for him.
Your father had a handful of mistresses, a few of them younger than you. Your mother knew, all wives know and look the other way. That was how it was supposed to be. It was how you make marriages last...
And your poor beaten heart could take his coldness towards you, it absolutely could not bear him being with another woman. Your father had always praised him for being loyal, and it was one of the things you loved about him...
“Where were you?” you sniffled to keep the tears at bay.
“I was out working. So I could pay for your shopping sprees.” He spat.
You gasped, “I haven’t gone shopping in months! I only did now for Christmas!”
“That tree better be down by the time I wake up. You can out all that crap in your bedroom if you like. I do not what to see it.” He said gravelly, before slamming his door shut.
Something was horribly wrong.
Andy came home to an empty, cold house. You weren’t there to greet him like you usually are, in fact you hadn’t been for the past few weeks. He could hear the TV from your room, some kind of musical playing.
He checked the kitchen for some food, you used to make dinner every night, rave about your love for cooking and baking, but now it seemed that you lived on poptarts and McDonald’s.
He knocked on your door, to ask if you wanted some of the alfredo he was cooking up, also to maybe get you to have dinner with him.
Ever since he had married you, he had such a beautiful companion to have dinner with. To watch silly romcoms with, someone who waited for him to come home, called him all worried when he was late, asked him how his day was
It’d break his heart to say good night to you, you’d give him those puppy eyes, fluttering your lashes as if begging him to invite you to bed with him.
He wanted to ask you to come, to feel what it would be like to snuggle up with your soft body, to smell your hair, to finally fuck you, but he’d just go away to sleep in his cold bed with a heavy heart. Making do with his hand as he thought of you, it wouldn’t feel nearly as good as you would but it would have to do.
“Can I come in, honey?” he asked.
Letting himself in when no answer came from you. You were lying on your bed, blankets draped over you, your eyes trained on the television. He looked around your room, he had only been there a couple of times, he had expected to see some kind of winter wonderland since you were such a fan of Christmas.
But it looked just how it usually did... pale pink walls, a queen sized bed, a small closet and a dresser and a vanity. No tree or fairy lights or nut crackers.
He leaned against the door frame. “Did you have dinner?” He wanted to know.
You made some sort of unintelligible noise; which could mean anything. So he asked, “Would you like some pasta? I can’t make it as good as you do but I’ll try.”
“No.” You answered. Still not even looking at him.
“It’s Christmas Eve, do you want to go celebrate with your family?”
You shook your head in response. “No, I think I’ll just stay here.”
He had stolen your brightness and sunshine away, tainting you with his darkness. “Stop it,” he scolded, switching off the TV and standing in front of you to make you listen to him. “Get ready, I’m dropping you off at your fathers. You’re not spending Christmas in bed.”
“What difference does it make?” you huffed.
“Get ready. Right. Now.” He ordered, pulling your blanket away from you.
“No!” you whined. Sitting up, your face heating up with a simmering rage you had harbored for months. “Why do you even care? Do you want to get me out of the house so you could spend Christmas with her?!”
“Who’s her?” he furrowed his brows.
“Your mistress!” you yelled, looking around for something you could hurt him with, you grabbed a hold of your Mrs Bunny, your cute pink stuffie and threw it at his face. “I’m not going anywhere. And you’re not bringing her in to my house!” You said, throwing another stuffie at him which he caught with his hand.
“Honey,” he said, as if he was so disappointed with you, for catching him in his lies and deceit. “I don’t have a mistress. Where would I even find the time for one? All those late nights were spent at the office or in meetings.”
He would be the world’s biggest idiot to get a mistress when he had a wife like you waiting for him at home. A wife he hadn’t even so much as even kissed... given how pouty and tempting your lips looked, he didn’t know how he resisted for so long.
“Don’t call me honey,” you puffed out your cheeks, “And I don’t believe you.”
“Well, what can I do to make you believe me?”
You sighed, laying back down on the bedding, “There’s not much you can do. Except leave me be. I just want to sleep this Christmas away.”
He had to do something to get your spirits up. And since you has thrown away your old decorations he ran to every store in the town, waiting in the queue for hours, calling in as many favors as he could to get some new ones.
While he wasn’t able to get a real Christmas tree, he got a fake one which was a bit smaller than the one you had put up but not all that bad.
You had decorated the apartment with the traditional red, greens and golden he decided to go with a soft pastel pink theme. Hoping that you would like it and forgive him.
He had gotten you couple of gifts, a little babydoll he saw on the internet, it was pink and sexy, he thought of you the moment he saw it. Ordering it for you but he never really gathered enough courage to ask you to wear it. He wrapped it up for you in some festive paper, tying a ribbon around it.
He decided to get as many gifts for you as he could so the tree wouldn’t look so depressing, a Tiffany’s set, an advent calendar from a make up company he knew you liked, a box of cookies and one of chocolates, a new apron with floral patterns and frilly trimmings, some cozy socks, and a surprise gift he had been saving for you.
Looking around the living room, while it wasn’t as good as what you had done with the place he was still proud of what he could pull off in just a couple of hours.
He called out your name before knocking and entering, switching on your bedside lamp he sat next to you, stroking your hair, “Wake up, angel.”
“Seriously, stop it with the petnames,” you said, your voice groggy from sleep and irritated. Because he had only ever said your name with contempt before.
“I’m not going to stop, honey. You’re my wife, I can call you whatever I like.”
“Whatever,” you mumbled, rubbing your sleep away from your eyes.
“I have a surprise for you.” He smiled at you.
And while he had certainly smiled at you before that, when you had said something funny or silly (which you usually did just to see him smile), this one seemed so much brighter and warm.
“What is it?” you sat up. Still a bit crossed with him but excited to see what surprise he had for you.
“You have to come into the living room for that, and promise to stop being a Grinch,” he said, bopping your nose.
You scoffed incredulously, “I’m being a Grinch?! You were the one who made me take everything down in the first place!”
“I know, honey, and I am sorry for that. Hopefully I can make it up to you.” He winked.
You combed your hair, splashing some water on your face and then following him out to see what he had in mind for you.
You all but gasped at the tree in the middle of your living room, so beautiful, the soft glow of the fairy lights illuminated the room, little festive trinklets all over the room.
He had got you a pink stocking with sparkling silver hearts on it. His was a normal red one with ‘Andy' written with a sharpie or a pen. You giggled at that.
“You like it, honey?” he asked.
You nodded, observing the ornaments on your tree, “I do. Thank you so much, Andy. It’s so beautiful, I don’t think anyone’s ever done something so grand for me.”
Your rave gave him the courage to out his hand over your waist, pulling you into him, “I know this doesn’t make up for everything, but it’s start.”
“Yes! I think... I’d like a fresh start,” you beamed up at him
He excused himself to make some hot chocolate for you both, handing you a mug with little heart shaped marshmallows and sprinkles on top of it. You didn’t even realise how you ended up snuggled up next to him on the couch, Elf playing on the TV which he shockingly had never seen before.
“You know... for someone who hates Christmas so much you did a pretty good job saving it!” you giggled, kissing his bearded cheek.
“Well...” he looked down at you, wiping away the mustache the hot chocolate gave you before sucking his thumb off, “I don’t hate it anymore, because I’m not alone,” he said, his thumb pulling on your plump bottom lip.
“Um...” you face heated up as looked away, “You got me gifts!” you screamed a bit overzealous to change the subject, “Can I open one now? Please?! I’m just so excited!”
“Sure,” he murmured, a bit salty that he didn’t get the kiss.
He knelt next to you on the carpet as you pinked one up, shaking it next to your ear, scrunching your nose up so cutely as you tried to decipher what it was.
“Mmm... I can’t tell...”
“Why don’t you just open it?” he asked as his hand caressed your bare thigh, finding himself unable to keep his hands off of you now that he has you.
You ripped at the wrapping paper, opening the box to reveal the skimpy baby pink lingerie he had got you.
You pulled it out of the box and then started stammering, unable to form words once you realised what it was. “Is this... um..”
“Do you like it?”
“Yes, it’s very cute and nice. Do you, want me to wear it for you?”
“If that’s what you want,” he said casually and then shrugged but then regretted it as your face fell and you let. He wasn’t used to half-assing things if he was going to tell you his true feelings, he had to go all out.
Taking a deep breath, “I have to tell you something I’ve been meaning to say for months.”
“What?”
“I... love you,” he looked down at your lap, because he couldn’t bear to look in your eyes if you decided to reject him.
“Oh, Andy!” you beamed, “I love you too! I’ve always loved you,” you crawled on top of him, throwing your arms around his neck you hugged him.
“That’s good then,” he smiled stroking your back, he pulled you back so he could look at your pretty face, cupping your cheek he pressed his lips against yours.
He had only kissed you once, months ago at your wedding, and while it was not bad at all it was too short and formal and distant, nothing compared to how he felt right now. Moulding his lips against yours, kneading the flesh of your ass, you tasted just as sweet as he imagined you would.
You gasped in his mouth when he rutted his erection up into your core. “Andy!” your chest heaving as you felt him pressing against your thigh.
“What do you say you go put that on for me, doll? Hm?” he instructed.
You meekly nodded, grabbing a hold of the lingerie which you just now noticed was so sheer and would not really leave anything to the imagination.
“Come on out quickly now,” his impatience seeping through his voice as he sat on the edge of his, or what would now be both of your marital bed, one leg crossed over the other, his foot tapping against the floor.
His pants already snug, just from imagining what you would look like with the flimsy thing on. It wasn’t as revealing or kinky as some of the other pieces he had seen, but he felt it would match your personality perfectly.
He groaned, calling out your name again, “I’m gonna fucking die of blue balls, if you don’t come out right now, I’m coming in,” he got up to his feet to do just that but then stopped when he heard the knob twist.
One smooth leg peaking out of the bathroom, “Um... promise you wouldn’t make fun of me?” you asked. Your eyes screwed shut, you didn’t really have much of choice but you had never been so vulnerable in front of anyone. You’d hate to not be satisfactory for him.
“I promise,” his face softened, he had to practice some restrain, at least until he breaks you in, “Now come on out.”
You opened the door, your meek eyes fixed on your hardwood floor, your hands hugging your midsection. You blinked when he said nothing for several long, tortuous moments. Peaking a glance up at him you found him staring at you.
“Uh, do you like it?” you asked as your hands played with the helm of the teddy.
He almost scoffed. Like would be an understatement.
He knew pink would be your color. The nightie so short, clinging to your curves, your nipples pebbled against the satiny fabric, you looked like a sweet little doll and a whole fucking meal to devour at the same time. He would burst before he even got to touch you.
“Twirl,” he made the motion with his forefinger to demonstrate it, “Let me look at you better. And hands to your sides.”
You took a deep breath, letting your hands fall, doing as he had asked, your heart hammering in your chest because for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out if he actually liked you.
“Stop there,” he instructed when he got a look at your pert, round butt, the cloth barely covering it, he could see the imprints of the thong you wore.
“What are you thinking?” you asked.
“If I like your front better or your behind.” He almost chuckled at the incredulous gasp you let out. “Alright, look at me again.” Definitely the front, because he could see your beautiful face. Taking his original position on the bedding, “Come here,” he patted his lap.
Like the obedient wife that you aspired to be, you followed, perching yourself up on his lap, your arms around his neck for some support, looking into his lust blown, dark eyes.
You bite your lip when you felt that pressing into your thigh. Unable to bear his intense gaze you hid your face in the crook of his neck.
He hushed you, snuggling your soft body closer to his, his fingers drawing patterns on your hip, “How many men have you been with before?”
It didn’t really matter whatever your answer would be. But he wanted to tell you, that how ever many there were before him won’t matter anymore. From now on you are solely his.
“None,” you whispered so lowly that he almost couldn’t hear you.
“What?” Holding onto your chin so that he could make you look at him, “None? How is that possible?”
“I’ve just been waiting for the right one... I was going to with Alex but then didn’t...” you said as your hands caressed the coarse hair on his jaw.
He hummed, the fact that he would be your one and only, forever, only served to entice him further.
“Have you ever sucked a cock before?” he asked, although he knew the answer.
“No...”
“Don’t worry, I’ll guide you,” he promised, pushing on your shoulders to make you get on your knees.
You hissed at the cold floor, biting into the your calves and knees.
His dainty princess, he grabbed a throw pillow, instructing you to put it under, all the while staring at your cleavage peaking out like a creep.
Your eyes were fixated on his crotch, eager to see what a real penis looks like. You had watched some porn when you were a teen, out of sheer curiosity, but your friends had told you to lower your expectations. That real ones are much smaller and not so aesthetically pleasing.
You all but gasped when he took his cock out of the confines of his sweats, slapping over his abdomen. So big... and thick, with two veins over it, a bright flushed tip leaking with pre-ejaculate, and some soft hair dusted at the base of it.
You tried to stop yourself but then couldn’t help it, your hand shyly touching his tip yanking it down and then releasing it to see what happens. As suspected it flew back over, hard against his tummy, making you giggled.
“Oh gosh...” you slapped a palm over your mouth to stop from laughing.
He scrunched up the hair on the back of your head, yanking your neck back so that he could look at you, “What’s so funny?” he growled.
“Nothing,” you gulped, “It’s all just so strange and new... and exciting...”
He hummed as he took in your words. Grabbing the base of his cock as he rubbed his tip and precum all over your cheeks till your face was positively glowing with his essence.
“You wanna taste it?” he asked, to which you eagerly nodded.
Nudging your pouty lips with his tips before tapping on them when you didn’t get the clue, “Open.”
“Oh,” you said before opening as wide as you could, his length easing into your mouth. You hummed around him, the salty unique taste of him you had never really known before and couldn’t get enough of now.
He was barely halfway through inside you when he touched the back of your throat, he tutted, “Relax your throat,” he told you.
You didn���t really know what he meant but you tried loosening up all your muscles. Choking around him when he pushed in a few more inches.
Most of him was still out but it was as good as it’s gonna get, not that he’d ever complain... no... your mouth was like heaven. He had only known his hand for the past year Or so, and your mouth was almost too much.
Holding onto your face to keep it in place he started thrusting upwards into you, his heart swelling with tears escaped your eyes but you still tried to take more of him, to please him like the good girl that you were.
He stopped his hips, gently slapping your cheek to get your attention, “You always look at me when my dick is in your mouth. Got it?”
Since you couldn’t talk with your mouth full of cock, you just nodded.
You peered up at him innocently, fluttering your lashes, popping him out of your sloppy mouth, “Am I doing it right?” because you truly couldn’t tell.
He chuckled, smoothening a hand down your hair, “More than right... it’s too good but I want to come in your pussy. Maybe I’ll make you swallow my load latter, what do you think?”
“Yes, I’d like that,” you licked your lips to taste more of him.
“Get on the bed,” he ordered.
“Um... can I go fix my face before that,” you rubbed your mouth with the back of your hand, you doubted you looked very pretty to him then.
“No,” he stated, pulling you up by your armpits and all but throwing you on the bed.
You yelped and tried to protest, “I wanna look good for you...”
He pushed your legs apart to make room for him, smirking above you, eyeing you up as if you were a piece of meat, his prey, “This really does look pretty on you...” he rubbed the flimsy spagetti strap between his fingers, “but it’s served it’s purpose.”
You screamed, holding onto his wrists as he ripped the babydoll in two pieces, revealing your breasts to him, he yanked at it, throwing the remains away.
“That’s much better,” he gritted, pinching one of your peaks, capturing it in his mouth and suckling at it to his hearts content.
You pouted as you looked at the torn cloth, a bit upset that he ruined his gift to you. “I really liked that...” you sniffled. But couldn’t really ponder because Andy’s ravenous mouth was sucking hickies all over your breasts.
“I’ll buy you another one. I’ll buy you ten more,” he bit into the side of your breasts, your mewls and whines were like music to his ears.
“Andy...” you heaved, “Don’t leave marks... I have to go to dinner tomorrow to moms...”
He stopped abruptly, propping himself up above you and you were afraid that you had upset him, “You’re my wife now, honey. Your father gave you to me,” his hand snaking down your body, between your legs, he parted your moist lips, the pad of his fingers meeting your little pearl, “I can do whatever I want with you,” he reminded you, pushing a finger into you, “This cunt is mine now, got it?”
“Yess...” you whined as you squirmed under him, the invasion of his finger inside you too alien to your body.
“Which means you ask for permission before you touch yourself, or better yet, don’t touch yourself because that’s my job,” he stated.
“Have you ever made yourself come?” he asked, trailing soft kisses down your body till he settled between your legs, moving the strong of the thing to the side so he could get a better look at your virgin pussy, adding another finger inside you, your snug walls clinging to his digits, “You’re so fucking small. Can barely fit my finger. How will you take my cock,” he teased.
He’d make you take it.
You whimpered at the sting of it, “I’ll try, daddy...” throwing your head back as you massaged your breast.
You propped yourself up on your elbows, looking down at him when he stopped his ministrations, “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” he quirked a brow. “Do you realise what you just called me?”
You simply shook your head because you hadn’t really called him anything, “Andy?”
“No,” he huffed, “You called me daddy, honey.”
You gasped, you didn’t mean to say it out loud! “No...” you shook you head from side to side, trying to pull away from his fingers still knuckle deep inside you, “It can’t be!”
“Oh, but you did,” he laughed, “And you’re gonna say it again. In fact, from now on, when it’s just the two of us that’s the only thing that you will call me. Unless you wanna get punished...”
“Okay...” you said, still a bit unsure of it all.
You had always called him ‘daddy’ in your fantasies. It was maybe a bit expected for it to slip out like that but still so embarrassing. You said it again just to make sure that he actually wanted you to call him that and wasn’t just teasing you.
“Good girl,” he winked, latching his mouth around your clit, fucking you with his fingers as he kept sucking.
“Daddy...” you whined, biting on your hand to muffle some of your noises, a knot building up in the pit of your stomach, “Don’t stop, please!”
You gushed over his mouth, he lapped it all up, making sure nothing went to waste.
“You did good, honey,” he said, your cheeks heating up when you saw his beard glistening with your juices. He rolled your thong down your thick thighs, “You wear this to dinner tomorrow,” he told you. “Since I’m going to be a real husband from now on I pick out what you wear.”
All so he could see you in those pretty flowy dresses you wear sometimes, but you didn’t need to know that.
He hastily pushed his sweats and briefs past his hips, throwing them off the bed before pulling his t-shirt over his head.
You bit your lip at just the sight of him. His shoulders so broad, chest so wide, dark hair dusted all over his chest, you just knew then that all those hours he spent at the gym paid off, you knew he’d be ripped.
But you absolutely did not expect, someone as uptight as him to have numerous tattoos all over his torso.
Something inscribed in Sanskrit on his chest that you didn’t really understand... the logo of your family’s mob on just under his pectoral.
You sat up to get a better look at them, tracing a skull on his bicep that looked much less sophisticated than the others, the lines a bit scribbly, it was already fading.
“That’s the first one,” he interrupted you, “I was a kid back then, got my foster brother to do it.”
You pressed a kiss over it, “I love it.”
His blue eyes beamed at you, he was so beautiful...
“Now for your gift...” he circled your wrist bringing it down to his pelvis.
“Hm?” you looked down, tears brimming up in your eyes as you saw your name written on just beside his hipbone, next to his hard cock, standing tall against his stomach. In a small heart, dark ink against his pale skin, “When did you get it done?” you sniffles, touching his skin to feel the texture of the tattoo.
“A few weeks ago. I just... I’ve never belonged to anyone. Never had a family of my own. But now I have you, and you have me, I’m just as much yours as you’re mine,” he confessed, finally feeling the weight of it lifted off his shoulders. You were a blessing in disguise.
“I love you,” you beamed up at him.
“I love you too, doll, now come on,” he pushed you till you were on your back, “Daddy’s waited long enough. Can’t wiat to fill you up, make you mine.”
He planted a hand on the mattress, so he could see what he was doing to your virgin cunt, look at you and her, as he defiles you and makes you a woman, his thick manhood nudging your glistening lips as he eased into you, he felt you stretching around him, your face twisted in pain as you begged him to go easy on you, he halted when he felt your barrier.
He looked up at your pretty face, sparkling with his spend and your tears, your sweet little whimpers filled the room, he stayed still for a moment to let you get used to him, he knew he should take it easy.
His wife was a delicate, fragile, sweet little girl. He should be more gentle. A better husband and man would be. But he had his whole life to become a good man for you, tonight he just wanted to take what was rightfully his.
Letting out a deep, almost animalistic growl, piercing through your seal, your innocence till you were screeching, your nails drawing blood from the sides of his thighs.
“It hurts!” you screamed.
“It’ll only hurt for a little bit, doll. Just ride through it,” he cooed, stroking your sensitive clit to draw your attention away from the pain, he withdrew his hips before snapping them back till he was deep within your womb.
“You’re so snug, honey,” he grunted, not letting up his pace as he kept fucking into you,
A proud smirk gracing his face as he looked down to see himself covered in blood, a sticky mess of both your bodily fluids where your sexes were joined. His dick somehow grew harder inside you knowing how he took something from you that you’ll never be able to give someone else.
Slowly your crying and whining was subsiding as you got used to have him inside you, but he wanted to hear you scream for him in a different way. “Don’t you want to make your husband, no, your daddy happy, honey?” He asked, each word punctuated with a deep, harsh thrust into you.
You nodded, willing your tears away, cringing when you saw his crotch covered in your blood, “Yes I do, daddy. What do I do?”
“Your cute dumb brain always needs to be told what to do,” he chuckled, moving closer to you he circled his palms around your wrists, pinning them above you, “Wrap your legs around me.”
You followed along, wrapping your legs around his hips and hooking them together on his back. Closing your eyes when you felt your body seizing up, your pussy pulsating around his length when you felt the familiar feeling creep up on you.
“Look at me!” he barked and you immediately opened your eyes, “You look at me when I fuck you.”
You gulped and dared not close your eyes again. Even as you felt your orgasm wash over you, clenching around his length. His face was scrunched up, his neck, face and chest flush as he chased his own release till you felt his warm release coating your walls.
He collapsed above you, panting beside you he kissed your hair, “You liked that, babygirl?”
You let out a meek little yes. Feeling empty and void of his warmth and hardness when he pulled out of you before settling next to you.
“But...” you trailed off. Not finding it in you to bare yourself to him like that just yet.
“But what?” he whipped his head to look at you.
“But I’m sorry if I wasn’t very good!” Since you had simple laid there and took whatever he gave you. You had heard that men don’t like that...
“Don’t worry, honey, you were absolutely perfect,” he sighed. “You’ll get even better with practice, we’re gonna practice a lot from now on.”
You tried to cover your breasts up with the comforter, still awkward about being stark naked right next to a man, a man who looked as good as like Andy, but he swatted at your hands, reprimanding you and telling you to stay still and let him look at you to his hearts content.
Soon you felt your cunt throbbing back up again, still so raw from the loving Andy gave it, you tried rubbing your legs together to ease it a little bit.
“It still hurts?” Andy asked as you nodded.
He snaked a hand between your legs, massaging your little nub and your lips, tutting when you tried to pull away from his touch, “Shh I’m trying to make it hurt less.”
He hummed when he saw his seed leak out of you, pushing a finger in you, much to your displeasure, to keep it inside you, where it belonged.
He would make you go on some form of birth control as soon as he could. While the idea of you all round and plump with his kid was more than appealing, he didn’t want to share you with anyone else just yet. You were young, he had plenty of years to breed you.
“You’d make a good mother,” he wondered out loud.
“Hm?” you blinked at him. Squirming from the torture he was yielding on your overworked sex. His lips curled up in a twisted smile as he pulled his fingers out of you, wiping your blood on your soft nipples, painting them crimson as you shivered.
You looked at his cock, hard again against his stomach. “Does it hurt?” you asked, your hands twitching to touch it again.
“Yes, it does. Do you wanna help me get rid of the pain?”
“Mm... can I use my mouth again? I’m sore...”
“It’s okay, honey, you’ll get used to it,” he promised, grabbing your hips and pulling you on top of him, your palms pressed into his abdomen as you looked so wrecked, “Guide me in,” he ordered.
You shook your head which earned you a harsh slap on your ass so you held onto the base of his cock, parting your intimate lips, before slowly sinking down on him.
You sighed as you settled, sitting on top of him with his cock nestled inside you, so full and strangely satisfied, his warmth soothing your aching walls, he spanked you again to remind you to move, so you started bouncing on top of him the best you could.
His hand groped at your bouncing titts before he wrapped a hand around your throat, applying the slightest bit of pressure as you whimpered and cried, just to remind you who’s in charge, not that you’d forget anytime soon.
His only regret was that he hadn’t done this sooner. He was an idiot to ever resist an angel like you. He’ll have to do a lot to make up for lost time.
Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be join the taglist or shoot me an ask/dm. Comments and reblogs are really appreciated! ❤❤
Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!
#happyhoelidays2020#andy barber x oc#andy barber x y/n#steve rogers x reader#andy barber x reader#andy x reader#chris evans x reader#defending jacob fanfic#mob!andy barber
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