#𓆩♱𓆪. 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑'𝟐𝟐 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tteokdoroki · 2 years

Text

OCTOBER 1ST. VENOM

"eyes. lungs. pancreas. so many snacks, so little time."

♱ — katsuki bakugou + monsterfucking.

♱ — synopsis; katsuki’s been a bad fiancé recently, he tries to tell himself that it’s all in his head ( literally ) and when his neglectful behaviour nearly ruins your engagement dinner — he has no choice but to make it up to you, with the help of a little symbiotic friend.

♱ — length; 5K

♱ — warnings; please read for your own safety! mdni, smut 18+, heavy smut, characters aged up to 20s, mentions of eating people, monsterfucking, dry humping, tentacles, overstimulation, pussy jobs, public sex, clothed sex, oral sex ( f!receiving ), pegging ( m!receiving ), fem!reader, venom!bakugou. not beta read !

♱ — notes; waaa!! hello everyone, welcome back to kinktober!! im so happy to be participating again, i hope you all enjoy whats in store for this year. starting with this baddie !! - m.list ₊ kinktober m.list ₊ taglist 𓆩♡𓆪

“just eat her…katsuki…”

“no, you can fuck right off.”

“why not? she is unpleasant…katsuki…its not like we like her anyways…”

for the first time that night, katsuki indulges the mangled voice in his head— listening to the symbiotic alien that sludges through his voice and his body. venom is right. he hates his mother in law, soon to be mother in law, but the practicalities of it all aren’t what matter. red eyes drift to the devil’s incarnation of a woman, traditional yet rude and deserving of a beat down— katsuki thinks. if he could just take a bite, crunch down on the woman’s skull and swallow her whole, all of his problems would be solved.

“goodness, bakugou,” the woman leers with a nasty curl of her sweaty upper lip. “i’m paying for the wedding not for you to be dressed like a complete slob— you look awful, and at my only daughter’s engagement party!” she drones on and if venom were to murder this woman right now, she really would deserve it.

“see? you are a loser, bakugou.”

he wasn’t dressed that bad, sure, it wasn’t the burgundy blazer and pressed white shirt you’d told him to pick up from the dry cleaners on the way home from work but— it was smart casual, a nice pair of jeans and a smart jacket. you liked that. that’s all that mattered.

bowing his head slightly, bakugou wordlessly apologises before fishing himself out another glass of mercilessly alcohol free fruit punch. “‘m sorry ma’am—“

he cuts himself off when your name flitters from between your mother’s lips— the syllables that usually sound so pretty when strung together now ugly tainted by the evil woman. “she deserves so much better than you,” she doesn’t ease up on reminding bakugou of how lucky he is to have bagged you. to love you. “better than a wannabe journalist on a motor cycle.”

“die… pewny crazy woman—“

bakugou feels the familiar crawl of the venom symbiote across his skin— sharp-edges, dangerous claws reaching out for the wicked woman to snag her head off when he controls himself, controls his little friend and forces his stare back to the catered pile of desserts.

“venom,” katsuki is barely hanging onto his sanity, voice tainted with exhaustion. it’s like having a child constantly on your back, begging for things that aren’t acceptable for adults. he wonders how he’s been able to put up with this, how you’re able to put up with him. since becoming one with the alien life form— katsuki bakugou has been nothing but neglectful of you…turning his back on you during nights full of romance because he’s scared venom will hurt you, he’s missed cake and wine and menu tasting for the wedding because venom craved a little something meatier and sometimes even more human than whatever you’d been excited to try for your big day. katsuki forgets calls, doesn’t reply to texts— cycles into the night to take care of his little problem when he should be looking after you.

katsuki’s been insufferable; meaner than usual, flakier than he should be and he knows that he’s hurting you— not loving you properly like he should. blaming venom alone would be the easy way out. yet you stayed, you kept that ring on your finger and put on your best smile, because for some reason you still found it in your too big of a heart to love katsuki even when he didn’t deserve it.

still away with his thoughts, blonde is absent to notice venom popping out— a creepy, sticky black head, to greet a curious child after some of the sweets at this swanky engagement party. “want to play hide and seek? the mouth is a good place to start.” venom’s attempt at a coo is far from comforting, rows of razor sharp teeth covered in alien slobber only frightening the little one more.

“fuck off venom, cut yer crap out or i’ll—“ bakugou waves a hand, pinching the bridge of his nose only to be pulled from his revere by a whimpering child ( now identified as your five year old nephew who still hates his guts ). “oh shit—“

“would you mind not cursing in front of my kid?” your brother hastily appears from absolutely fucking nowhere. shindou is far from impressed, hates bakugou’s guts as does the rest of your family and if he had his way, the blonde wouldn’t have a leg to stand on at the alter with you. “yanno, you might wanna behave yourself tonight? it’s important to my ma, to my sister so if you could—“

there’s a burning rage that flickers through bakugou’s veins only heightened by the alien that makes a host out of his body, and it only makes it harder to fight off the urge for manslaughter. “we should eat him too…katsuki…he is getting on my nerves. i am sure he will taste like chicken.” the alien growls from the deep corners of his mind.

“they do not taste like chicken you stupid fuckin’ lug.” bakugou grunts back.

and to the outside world, the shitty excuse for a man is talking to himself— getting shindou’s back right up. “what did you just call me?”

“stay outta this, man. s’between me and the dumb fuckin’ alien voice in my head.”

insane. katsuki bakugou’s little alien friend makes him look absolutely insane.

and before he can get his ass beat by your brother— you swoop in, slightly flushed from flickering between guests of friends and family all night, there’s smile lines in your makeup, you’re tired in the eyes and you’re still the most beautiful person in the room to bakugou. his heart races when you’re close enough for him to smell your perfume, putting a safe distance between your fiancé and your brother.

you’re angry with him, bakugou can tell by the heat in your gaze when you get shindou far enough from the dessert table— he can feel it in the way it burns against his skin in broad waves, see it in how you twist on your heel so fast your dress, pretty and off-white like a bride on her wedding day, rides up enough to catch a glimpse of your thighs. it’s shameful to admit, but seeing you so full of rage turns him ( and venom ) on.

“what the hell is going on with you, katsuki?” you bark at him, hands on his chest enough to make the blood rush to his cock, swelling in the pants he’d just managed to throw on for tonight’s event.

“n-nothin’ sweetheart, ‘m just—“ fuck her katsuki. she’s angry, venom goads. she is pretty when she’s angry. we should fuck her. the blonde shakes his head, trying to rid himself of vulgar thoughts— clearing his mind, focusing on you and how your chest heaves, with annoyance, tucked away in that tight fitting dress that hugs you in all the right places, as you look up at your fiancé expectantly. fuck. “the only one that’ll be fuckin’er is me, you dumb fuck alien.”

it’s embarrassing, whatever’s gotten into your fiancé— because tonight was supposed to be special, the one night before your wedding that you could trust him to behave and not make that familiar prickling warmth coil in your core at his vulgar words. your eyes widen in shock and you push again at katsuki’s chest with furrowed brows.

“kats, please—“

shindou squeezes down on your nephew’s ears, hoping it’ll block out whatever filth spills from your lover’s mouth. “that’s my sister! you dipshit, get a grip—“

“fuck him too, katsuki…”

“yo—“ you turn around again, spitting venom ( no pun intended ) at your brother too as you grasp at bakugou’s wrist to pull him from the banquet room you’d booked for tonight’s celebrations. “go check on ma, please? i’ll deal with him.”

and you exactly that, nagging the man’s ear off as you tug him to the bathroom— tears glittering as pretty as your engagement ring in your eyes under the artificial light. you’re nearly broken at this point, months of being treated so differently, akin to trash possibly, by the man you love most being unleashed on him and the symbiote that sits comfortably in his frame unbeknownst to you.

“i’m sick of this kats,” you might as well be screaming at this point, your whiny and emotional voice is loud and noisy to the alien. it echoes through the cubical you’ve locked yourselves in and it cranks up the annoyance within venom— and you barely notice katsuki trying to keep him down. “i’ve been good to you all these years, haven’t i? i’ve loved you well enough for you to know that i deserve better than you but i just can’t—!”

the final straw is when you bang your fist against the cubical wall, the noise rattling the symbiote inside your lover, forcing ink black tendrils to take over his host body and a scream to tear in the base of your throat as katsuki transforms into something you don’t even recognise.

the man towering over you now is built in a suit of sticky, obsidian black— white, and cloudy slits peer into yours in a way that sends shivers down your spine and has your thumping heart leaping into your throat. this isn’t your man, this isn’t your katsuki. horror seeps through your body, takes residence in your veins as the monster grasps at you with claws and tentacles instead of your fiancé’s slightly calloused hands. it dwarfs you more in comparison to bakugou, it makes you scared looking at what it’s made of him as thick slime slides up and down your pretty, blemished skin in ripples.

“don’t scream.” the rasp you’d come so accustomed to, the one that makes your breath hitch every time he speaks, the one that fills you with butterflies despite the roots of fear wrapping around your heart. it’s him, your katsuki. the tendrils of black have peels back from his pretty face, his ruby gem

eyes send a flicker of comfort through your soul.

but then he’s gone again and the dark mask takes over— screaming at you at a pitch close to making your ears bleed, and you’re scared again, close to screaming too. it, pools like an oil slick over your mouth, suffocating you like a bird on the surface of oil laden water…but you like it, even as if claws ironically gently at the insides of your mouth.

“but we like it when she is screaming. katsuki. we are dirty minded.” the creature addresses you, some kind of twisted affection reflecting in the white of its eye.

“venom, i swear to fuck—“

it’s… katsuki’s… venom’s tongue, long and pink darts out to smooth over your face though you quiver, body toppling over with liquid dread. it’s warm, wet and shouldn’t send a spark of lust down your spine making you let out a muffled whimper of confused arousal.

“mouth…breasts…cunt…so many snacks…so little time.” venom pins you against the wall, pouring over you and invading every inch of your shaky frame— smothering you as it slips under your dainty little dress while you squirm about in it’s hold.

eventually, the ink black peels away from your mouth, only when your muted screams die down. “t-this? katsuki? this is what’s gotten into you?” he’s relieved to see that you’re still filled with anger as you gulp in fresh air between ripping him a new one, he’s completely aware of your growing arousal too. “a parasite! you’ve let a fucking parasite take over your body and ruin our engagement night and now—“

venom, is offended, however. “—i am not a parasite!” he growls. “i am venom, and you are mine.”

“ours…fuck, i mean mine.” katsuki comments, but he doubts you can hear him through the layers of teeth venom wears while arguing with the symbiote itself. it’s a back and forth, but even during that your fiancé can practically smell how your cunt drools into your barely-there panties— from fear or desire, he can’t care to tell. you’re so wet, and between dealing with venom and not seeing you during wedding prep, the blonde can’t remember the last time he fucked you good and proper.

it’s been ages, and you look too fucking good tonight.

“we should just take her…katsuki. flood her insides with seed. she is asking for it, like a hunk of meat waiting to be devoured….”

you squirm against venom’s web like hold, “don’t talk about me like i’m not here you piece of shit! give me back katsuki—!”

“her pulse has quickened. she is hungry for us.” the voice of venom roars from inside his head, equally as desperate for you as katsuki is. katsuki, in combination with the symbiote, surges forward to kiss you with greedy lips and to press his saliva covered and syrupy tongue into the heat of your mouth so he can silence you. it’s big, hefty as it fills you up until there’s drool pooling out and sitting on the corner of your pretty lips. “i like her. more.”

and then you moan, it sounds like a symphony as your mouth swells with the thickness of the slimy tongue exploring your throat and rolling over your tongue. “we’ve been neglecting’ you, hah, sweetheart?” bakugou, your fiancé, groans against your spit slicked lips— smiling at the way you choke from his tongue retreating from choking you down your oesophagus. “wanna take care of ya, been letting you work yer ass off f’this weddin’,” venom’s strawberry tongue slithers out again like a snake seeking out its pray, leaving a sloppy trace over your neck as if to taste the salt that shimmers like crystals on your skin.

“i’m getting hungry as well, katsuki.”

they’re both starving for you, depraved of a meal that is your cunt with your panties tucked between swollen folds. “i-if you think…that you can make it up to me.” your speak hoarsely, throat still raw as you pant and catch your breath, “k-katsuki if you think i can forgive you…”

“let us fuck you, baby. i just— we just wanna feel you. c’mon sweetheart, you trust me yeah? y’missed me so much i know,” all three of you feel it, the way your pussy throbs against venom’s beefy and wet thigh from where he’d shoved it snug between the pair of your own.

“d-did… i did. m-miss you, oh fuck!” you stutter out as thick digits belonging to your fiancé— thickened even more by venom, brush against your hip, dip beneath your skirt and panties to glide up and down your pussy. bakugou teases your entrance, scissoring two fingers inside of your warmth while you ooze into the seat of his palm and grind against him with wanton. “fuck me. both of you, p-please kats,” you beg, riding his fingers until they’re pulled out of you, coated in juices.

your body admits it before your brain does— that you’ve missed him, he can tell from how your chest naturally arches into the eager hunting path of katsuki’s mouth. your flavour reads sweetness, like salted caramel due to the sweat on your skin— his, venom’s tongue runs a course down your body, the sweetheart neckline of your dress rough on his taste buds before he drools between the swell of your pretty tits. he leaves trails of saliva every inch of you possible.

a patch is licked down the front of your dress— katsuki barely fighting off sharp teeth desperate to tear through the front of it so he can kiss the softness of your tummy. instead, hands large enough to crush a skull stick to the dips and fat at your waist, the doughy-ness of your darling thighs he’s missed so much.

the black veil of venom peels back as katsuki’s head dips under your flimsy skirt— and he practically moans, huskily at that, upon seeing the crotch of your underwear darker by your ever growing wetness. “must’a really missed me, sweetheart,” a wildfire of lust sweeps over katsuki’s ruby red eyes and he coos deviently, nose nudging against your pulsing clit before venom’s tongue happily comes into play this game of sinful chess. he moves just a touch, mouth pulling wide to split at the sides much like a snake unhinging it’s jaw, and latches onto the entire length of your silken slit. his tongue greedily pokes at your hole from over the soaked material— sucking until your juices stream against his taste buds. you’re like a drug, ecstasy— sending waves of dopamine over katsuki’s brain.

burning desire trickles into bakugou’s bloodstream at an alarming rate, bursting through his veins and shaking about in his lungs at every little whimper that bubbles wetly on your messy lips— these soon turn to gasps, straining for air as if you’re drowning when your fiancé peels back your wet layer of clothing, nearly tearing completely through it with a life threatening talon belonging to venom, so he can expose your hot cunt to the cool air of the bathroom. he laughs, breathless and giddy against your mound before dragging his tongue along it— kitten licking your addictive little core just to see you twitch and writhe against the wall venom has you pinned to.

you’re heaven on earth for a greedy, predatory creature like venom.

but you’re the universe to a regular man like katsuki bakugou.

your cute little clit is his next stop, pointed teeth only just latching onto the pleasure bud before your fiancé rolls it between the two sets until your nose scrunches adorably and your eyes shoot back into your skull. “i think the little human likes this.” venom’s deep voice inches down your spine, hits deep in your core just with its vibrations— and even he is amused with how wet, you’ve become. gushing like a fruitful stream, pouring liquid gold straight into katsuki’s awaiting mouth, down his chin and painting his cheeks until they shine like treasure.

there’s an uneven rise and fall to your chest as you’re fucked by two entities— you can barely breathe between them both, the shapes on your clit and the stickiness of venom catching your juices before they have a chance to run down your thighs. bakugou is lovesick, and so are you— big bambi eyes staring down into his own so earnestly, imploringly. the blonde pushes his tongue past the entrance to your fluttering hole, watching as your stare trembles before flickering to between your legs where you stretch over the fat pink appendage. it’s so big, that it might as well be a fucking cock.

“h-ho’fuck…h’my god…ka’suki…s’too much. too fucking much!” the words feel like cotton in your mouth, slurred over venom’s tentacles and while the world spins on it’s axis around you, you cream around the base of the scorching, spit dripping limb in venom’s mouth as it wriggles inside you— tip writing sinful praises against your gooey walls, languidly stroking your insides and pressing up against pleasure spots that are new to both you and katsuki. big hands grasp at the meat of your ass— the tips of piercing nails marring your skin and spreading you nice and wide, pulling you onto your lover’s face so that you’re practically suffocating him with have no escape for you either, making your hips canter down to meet the thrust of his tongue in and out of you, barely parting from your honeyed sex.

a scream rumbles in the base of your throat as venom’s lengthy, girthy tongue twists against your lush inner-walls, churning up your guts. the symbiote using your partner as a host is quick to think— shoving his slime deep into your mouth again to tame your sacchariferous griping and grousing, the inestimable melody laying flat against the saliva pooling on your own tongue. “quiet sweetheart, can’t make you cum if yer too loud,” bakugou breathes, his voice laden with lust and amusement from watching you ride his tongue like it’s a plump, pretty and veiny dick. “y’gunna cum baby, fuck yes…gush f’me just like that, oh yeah…”

“for us, katsuki.” the beast inside his head reminds your fiancé, his mask coating bakugou’s face once more— easing you into fright once again, one that makes you quiver just right on him, nearly pushing yourself over the edge.

it’s disgustingly delightful how the pink appendage has a mind of its own, acting like your own personal dildo, fucking you good like one and it’s not long before your body succumbs to the mounting pleasure— the taste of an orgasm like honey oozing across your tongue while happy chemicals dance across your brain, accompanied by white noise as you finally get to cum. you’re spiralling, the tip of venom’s…katsuki’s… fuck it. you don’t even care anymore, the tongue brushes against your g-spot hard causing you to clamp down, suffocating your fiancé, and your jaw to goes slack.

you gush as much as water falls, humping pathetically at your fiancé’s face until your entire body is limp and strands of the symbiote have to keep you up and away from katsuki’s eager mouth ( he’s still hungry, happy to clean you up ) where your legs can’t.

venom slowly retreats from your throat too, but your brain doesn’t have time to catch up when he does, for bakugou’s lips replace the heat that your own mouth has lost— pulling you into a frenzied, spit swapping kiss. “‘m not done with ya yet sweetheart,” he laments, lips grazing yours, licking into your open mouth so you get a taste of yourself too. your body bows into katsuki’s, you feel it before you see it, hear it too— the clink of a metal belt, the sticky tap against your stimulated mound from underneath your panties…fiancé’s iron hot cockhead twitching forward and poised to push through your awaiting salacious folds. “venom wants ya so badly, wants me t’make it up to ya…paint yer pretty cunt with my cum.”

the alien matter has crawled back from surrounding your lover’s hips, sitting just beneath his weighty balls, heavy with seed all for you. it’s obvious how painfully hard he is, standing at full mast and the sight makes your mouth water, pupils dilate and a hunger settle in your chest for katsuki, one you haven’t felt for a while. he’d been neglectful, dealing with this venom shit alone when you could’ve been beside him—guiding him through, though you supposed that didn’t matter anymore…seeing as they were both willing to make it up to you now. “our cum. we are going to ruin her…katsuki.” the symbiote growls, making his presence known to you both in the heated, sex scented bathroom stall. “i am going to ruin you.”

underneath his hair, matted to his forehead by perspiration, katsuki’s brows furrow in confusion. “what the fuck are you on about—?” his question falls away into an airy exhale, twisted with a sharp clap against his ass, like skin on skin. “f-fuck…oh fuck….d-damn parasite’s f-fuckin’ m-my ass…” your fiancé’s head drops to the junction between your neck and shoulder, pointed teeth latching onto your saltine skin as venom twists his ink black tendrils into a shape made to ruin katsuki from behind— thrusting sharp into his puckered hole.

“i am not a parasite!” the symbiote snarls, pulling back to pump into your lover again, this time with no mercy on bakugou’s ill prepped and fluttering hole—pressing right up against the blonde’s prostate. the force only has his own hips cantering forward, his cock, wrapped in pretty blue veins bullying it’s way through your swollen pussy lips— dragging back and forth against your overstimulated clit.

the whole ordeal is slimy, hot and steamy— katsuki pressed against you with no room for anything else aside from lust and the doubled down sound of skin clapping against each other. him grinding his shaft into your sweet cunt while venom pounds away at his warm, tight ass. when the symbiote pulls back, bakugou peels his seedy dick from between your selfish folds— clinging onto him by viscid ropes of evidence from your last orgasm while his cockhead smears fat globs of white against your mound.

“my fuckin’ god,” you can feel every twitch of his length between your messy thighs, every throb as venom pushes deeper into katsuki— subsequently pushing his tip against abused and sensitive entrance. “m’baby’s got the prettiest pussy… can’t believe ‘m marryin this fuckin’ pussy… oh god.” he whines, drooling over your shoulder because he can’t keep quiet without pacifying himself on you, bakugou’s venom covered hand descends between your bodies to tap his mushroomed milky tip against your pleasure button a few times, smirking as your body jolts and the oil slick arms of venom spread your pussy lips further apart to watch more of the action ( your throbbing cunt and the pearls of arousal that leak from it ). “can’t believe she’s all fuckin’ ours, hah parasite?”

“no one can have her. only you and i.” he says in response, and your tummy flutters when bakugou repeats it back to you— the possession both he and the alien have over you doing nothing to stop the ticking time bomb of your orgasm building up in your lower tummy again.

to see your future husband with flushed cheeks and vacant eyes as he’s being fucked raw ( by an alien or not ) only serves to turn you on further, pussy drooling and juices slinging between both of your thighs with the back and forth of your humping, sticky noises accompanying your in tune breathless moans that follow one another’s with ‘O’ shaped mouths and end in sloppy kisses.

with your gasped pleas and katsuki’s gruff mewls echoing throughout the bathroom— venom picks up the pace— rocking his dick shaped appendage harder and faster into your fiancé’s ribbed insides, forcing your bodies against each other in a passionate miry dance of nasty, filthy sex. the walls of the bathroom stall creak on their hinges from the force behind venom’s thrusts, jamming hard against katsuki’s prostate which in turn has your rubbing down on his fat dick, faster and faster until all you can hear is the pap, pap, pap of your sexes working with one another.

“want it inside, need you inside! f-fuck yes!” you garble, almost pornogroahically, katsuki’s convulsing creamy cock driving you up the wall insane. “please.”

bakugou presses his forehead to your own , body bouncing forward against yours from the power behind venom’s aggressive pace inside of him while your pebbled nipples brush against each other. “can’t,” he whines with nearly teary ruby eyes, the crystalline droplets already gathered in his lash line like yours. “been gone from the party too long, g’nna cum soon anyways. s-shit!” though you whimper with faux disappointment, you’re not far from release either— the feverishness to either of your movements dragging you by the ankles to another high after all the abuse to your sensitive sex. you find yourself throwing hips down to meet katsuki’s rapid thrusts. his hands fumble for one of your meaty thighs to hook it over his slender, slime covered waist while you grasp at his taut ass to spread him wider, allowing venom to reach deeper spots inside of him.

katsuki shifts, changing the angle of his venom controlled thrusts so that his glistening cockhead breaches your entrance only just— making your eyes roll back for the millionth time that night, your nails sinking into his peachy ass. “‘m right there kats, oh—! right there…” you warn him through gritted teeth.

he tilts head up, tongue licking over the sweat on your Cupid’s bow. “yer cummin’… g’nna cum f’us baby?” you nod rapidly in response, barely standing on the crumbling edge of your orgasm. between that and the alien parasite tearing his ass in two, jammed up on his prostate— dancing in the back of his mind and commanding him to cum… katsuki can’t seem to hold of either. “let go f’me baby, lemme feel it. give it all fuckin’ to me. to us.”

“cum katsuki.”

your body follow’s bakugou’s lead, and he, venoms. “ohh fuck, uhhh shit! ‘m fucking cumming— yeah, yeah. oh yeah…” your fiancé beefs needy and loud, his first spirts of thick white seed barely hitting your cunt before you let out a large wave and gush so hard your release makes a crude slap when ir hits the ground. your panties are soaked through and blood rushes through your ears— all your senses numb to the world except for katsuki using your shaking body to ride out the rest of his high, pouring his release into your soiled panties and against your slit.

you see new colours, new galaxies and universes— everything hitting you so hard you barley have time to comprehend that you’ve just fucked an alien that’s using your fiancé as a host. it still doesn’t register within you as katsuki puts venom away, pulling out from underneath your skirt before he fixes your panties warm with cum snug against you again.

“‘m gonna take ya back to the party sweetheart, we’ll have to talk about this later.” bakugou coos, though you’re both wobbly on your feet as you come down.

it’s so cute that all you can do is nod, seemingly appeased with your fiancé compared to how furious you had been before venom helped fuck you good.

if katsuki had known using the alien as a sex toy would get him out of trouble with you and back into your good books— he would have done it much earlier.

“i will not eat any of the humans here tonight… as long as we are able to ravage your tiny human again…katsuki.” the symbiote promises when bakugou hangs back a few seconds as you slip back into the party— hoping that your sins go unnoticed.

and even if you squint while watching you join your family and friends for the rest of the night, you would notice all of them— the way you stagger on your legs and the shiny marks from venom’s slime decorating them too, leaving a sweet smile on bakugou’s face.

“oh buddy, as long as yer a fuckin’ parasite in my body, we can ravage her like that any day, for the rest of my life.” katsuki boasts proudly.

“for the last time. i am not a parasite!”

8K notes · View notes

tteokdoroki · 2 years

Text

OCTOBER 8TH. HADES

“my sweet, deluded little minion. aren't we forgetting one teensy-weensy but ever-so-crucial tiny little detail? i own you.”

♱ — keigo takami + hate sex.

♱ — synopsis; as a naive little girl in love you make a deal that gets you stuck with the unrelenting god of the underworld, and no matter how sweet he may fuck you…you’ll spend all of eternity hating him if you have to.

♱ —length; 5.4K

♱ — warnings; please read for your own safety! mdni, smut 18+, heavy smut, mentions of death, restraints, marking, branding, creampies, thigh riding, impact play, nipple play, multiple orgasms, possesive sex, hate sex, unprotected sex, fem!reader, hades!hawks. not beta read !

♱ — notes; screee happy sinister saturday !! tonight i bring you hawks beloved besmooched as disney's hades!! i hope you guys enjoy this as much as i did writing it. !! mwah !! - m.list ₊ kinktober m.list ₊ taglist 𓆩♡𓆪

pity.

you should not have pity for the weak because you are weak, yourself.

you’re weak because you’re too kind; you hate to see a dying soul twisting through those who end up in the land of the undead, shackled to their fate of never returning where the living are. you feel their desperation, hear it in the woeful cries of lost lives as they make their trip down a stream of decay— to be damned for almost all of eternity and like them, you’re desperate too. the underworld is a place to be hated, you think, tying you down to the stench of death and you’re so desperate to feel the sun on your skin once more…to taste the juice of a ripened fruit and feel the warm breeze against your skin while you brush through locks of silvering hair.

you miss the air in your lungs, you miss breathing him in like he was oxygen.

touya, was there name of the man you missed most about the world up above— his lips often tasted of sour grapes, his skin was rough from scratches and scrapes too but soft whenever you held a his hand. you thought that he adored you— touya would worship you like the gods had put your portrait in the stars up above and you’d do the same…spending your free time counting the flecks in cerulean eyes while soft white hair flows in the warm wind. he was brave, you knew that, a warrior who was strong and had promised you his hand once he returned from the battles his father had called him upon.

you were promised, you were happy and more in love than you thought possible— until the day touya tells you that he loves you with his dying breath, a sickness sweeping over topaz fem eyes, and you know he’d take your heart to the underworld too.

“you still thinkin’ about him, doll?”

the warmth of your day dreams slip away as the chill of his voice fills the stone cold lair. you dare to let your fingertips drift through the river of souls below the wall you lean against. “‘m not in the mood, hades.” the god of the underworld, keigo takami is a nuisance if you’d ever known one. a pain in your ass full of feathered flames— bright blue in all of their glory, they’re colder than most would expect, unbecoming of the colour that sprout’s from the king of the undead’s back.

“hawks. keigo, baby. c’mon little bird…” his voice is tight with humour, surprisingly playful for someone doomed to be surrounded by lifelessness for all of eternity. all of the underworld is dreary and damp, worn arching mountains made of old bones, skulls and teeth— rocks as sharp as swords that end lives with the sickly green stream of whining dead mortals. you can’t breathe down here…there’s no space for you to escape nor breathe around him and you hate it. “oh sugarplum…don’t play sourpuss! we’re all friends here!” the blonde god that burns cold flames picks your dainty fingers from the acidic pool of death.

he grinds your gears, and you have nowhere else to go. the thought of being stuck with a man who rules over ruined lives— infuriating you to no end. “i am not—“ you seethe, shoulders raised like a hissing cat or something akin to the three headed dog that guards this place. “your friend. far from it, hades.” the look on your face is far from impressed, discourteous with your lips turned into a nasty sneer and a sweltering spark to your usually pretty docile eyes.

it’s such a shame, how ill behaved you are after everything the man has done for you. “it’s hawks, honey.” the man reminds you, and in a flash he’s on you in all the ways you despise. his slimey grip of death squeezes your cheeks, dragging you up to his mighty height with your face in the palm of his burning hand. hades…hawks, he’s mean when he’s unhappy— the flames that form the wings of a fallen angel flicker a brilliant red and the temperature of them skyrockets. “‘n this is no way to act after all i’ve done for you cupcake.” despite the fury that radiates from the god…he coos gently.

“if i remember correctly… i’m the one who saved your little prick of a boyfriend… aren’t I?” even through all of the robes keigo wears, you can still feel the molten heat of his skin against yours as he pulls you in close— though you dangle from his hold, you’re practically chest to chest. you scramble to get away, but the god only digs his thumb further into your cheek. “we had a deal. your soul for his life.” with his free hand, he creates an apparition, tufts of smoke dancing to form people…one showing touya who bends at the knee to take the other’s hand— this one being you.

at first, the two characters seem happy, and an emotion akin to fondness settles in your bones— but not before touya’s little smoke figure trails away from yours to follow another woman “s’not my fault he left you. don’t take it out on me, doll,” hawks drawls, snapping his fingers to make the apparition disappear, your heart rattled in its place after reliving the scene and you force your gaze away with a grunt directed at the god. “now, since you’re being oh so disrespectful, we’ll add…give or take, another five years to your sentence with me instead of taking away seven. how’s that sound?”

“fuck you, hades.” turning your head, you spit directly between the god’s eyes, fuelled by your own hurtful rage.

your elevated, living pulse does nothing but serve to piss off the king of the underworld more— his blonde set of locks nearly exploding off of the top his head as he combusts into red hot flames once more. “still so bitter over a man who can’t love you like i do, huh?” keigo says your name, low and raspy, and you can’t remember the last time he’d uttered those syllables. it frightens you, after all you are a mortal in the grip of a man who takes lives for a living, but you’d never let him know that. “that’s almost pathetic.”

that hurts to hear, like a knife twisting in your fragile human gut… and so, kicking your feet, still high above the ground and suspended in the large god’s grip— you throw yourself about and claw at his temperate hand cupping your face harshly. “you do not love me, you wouldn’t know what that meant even if it kicked you in the face!” you yell, biting down on keigo’s hands in a futile attempt. “you’re just obsessed with me and would much rather me be a soulless corpse to keep you better company!”

“you better watch your tone with me, little bird—“

“you’re vile. you’re disgusting— a fool if you think i could ever see the bright side of being stuck here with you,” you ramble in response, and foolishly so. “i hate you hades, i hate you. did you know that? i want to repeat it for you. i hate yo—“

your words are never finished, for a resounding strike echoes throughout the cave like atmosphere on the underworld and you already feel the invisible bruising form under your skin, falling to the floor to cup your wound.

no matter how many times you had tested the god of death, he had never hit you like this before.

and you’ve never looked into his golden irises , never seen them so clearly or seen his pupils like black slits— leaving the amber colour to take over, reminding you of the surface sun. hawks looks almost predatory, hungry red flames for wings willing to swallow and burn everything in their path, including you.

“repeat yourself. what did you say?” keigo commands easily.

you gulp. “t-that i…”

“that you, what?” your name again, and you tremble.

“that i hate you,” you breathe. “i hate you.”

he seems to snap at this.

hawks smiles, teeth as sharp as razors set on display. “another five years into your sentence, pretty.” with a snap of his talon clawed fingers, the god has fragments of grey smog binding your wrist together, slipping over your nose and mouth to shut you the hell up. “‘m disappointed, yanno. i do care so much for you, i’m so attentive… but this has happened far too long to go unnoticed, little bird.”

the world around you rushes with air as you’re hauls into the god’s thick arms, you kick and scream muffled through the smoke in your mouth— watching as keigo conjures up a throne made of thorns, pain and bones, taking a comfortable seat into it despite the lost loved ones it might be made up of. “here we go again, darling.” the blonde sighs, not caring if you batter his back on the way down to taking his seat— dragging you into position to sit over the swell of his right thigh. “s’always the same old shit with you. so naughty.” keigo peers up at you through eyes like a bird of prey…watching, knowing the exact effect he has on you.

hyper aware of how much control he has over you, right down to your soul.

you squirm away and keigo let’s go of the smoke, letting you tilt your head back but still rooted in the god’s lap. “i hate you.” breathing deep, you try to ignore your body flushing with heat and the urge to buck down against keigo’s surprisingly muscular thigh.

“behave yourself. sit still,” hades coos, his touch cascades up your body, slipping under your bodice and sending warmth down each of the neurons like a flickering flame until he reaches the swell of your breasts— thumbing over your pebbled nipples in an attempt to pull a whine from between your resistant lips. it’s so cute to watch you try and fail, pretend like your hips aren’t aching to slide back and forth, drag your clit back and forth…back and forth over the man like a desperate bitch in heat, like you don’t want to put your hands in the brightness of his fire and watch yourself burn with lust. you’re no good at acting, pretending you wouldn’t slut yourself out for him, the one who owns you for all of eternity.

with a click of his fingers, all the power in the world between them pulls up the skirts of your robes, like wisps of a web until the fabric sits at your hips. “h-hate you… s’much,” you repeat though the venom to your voice is lost, shaky and falling into a pathetic moan instead as the god traces the fat at your hips, searing fingers sliding down to your fleshy ass before peeling you away from his thigh— amused at the stickiness that ties you to him. “f-fuck.”

“yeah sweetheart? you hate me this much?” the amusement is evident in his voice too, a slender digit sliding out from the curve of your ass to touch at your oozing wetness. “oh…i don’t know, doesn’t seem like you don’t like me. you can’t spend forever hatin’ me either; not when i get you like this.” the finger spreads apart your swelling folds, and hawks shifts until his knee is able to bump your clit. “lover boy ever make ya this wet?” you despise the way the god talks down on you, as if you’re just a slave to his cock and thighs and whatever he can give you…dopamine and lust hormones flooding your cute little mortal brain and making you pliant for him.

the beginnings of your arousal seeps warmly through the robes laying wrinkled against the fiery blonde’s thigh, sweet folds leaving a stain that betrays you in every way possible. touya could never… not like this, you’re soaked and you’ve barely been touched. only just, by feather light grazes against the supple fat at your waist. it’s the taunting pillowy cushion to hawks’ words too, they’re what’s gotten you so worked up— not too mean or too harsh, just enough to make you feel like you’re beneath him.

with your nails digging to hades’ arm, you cry out his name at a volume barely above a whisper— bottom lip wobbling and face crumbling just like your resolve because it hurts so good not to use him to get off, the shame only adding fuel to the fire in your lower belly. “s-shut up,” you struggle to get out, to mean what you say as your needy hole clenches against the blistering skin of a god. “you don’t make me feel shit…y-you could never be h-him—oh,” keigo flexes his thigh beneath your unloyal pussy, tongue darting out to wet his lips in hunger as your words taper off into a sinful little sigh at your pretty eyes roll back into your skull. “oh…oh fuck you.”

“watch your mouth.” hades all but snarls, a cruel smirk beginning its horizon on his slightly chapped lips now that you’re finally playing his game, your hips falling into their own rhythm over his thigh—speeding up in their straddled dance over him. again, his hands explore all what your body has to offer and this time you let him, throwing your head back when hawks rips the fabric of your skirt to get a better view of your naked rosy cunt and how beads of glistening arousal pearl between perfect pussy lips. “don’t need to be your shitty little human to make you feel good, sweetheart. i know i’m better than him,” he makes a sick point of reminding you so, leaning back into his throne with a hazy look settling into the embers of his golden eyes, those of which are trained on the way your folds encapsulate his thigh as you get yourself off on him. “i’m your god, you’ll only ever feel the pinnacle of pleasure with me.”

you loath that this much is true, of all the times hawks has punished you for resenting him— talking back and being ungrateful, you’ve never cum as hard with anyone else as much as you have with him. when his flaming hands swallow your thighs, burn their hand prints into them until you can smell the scent of singeing flesh tangled with death, decay and your saccharine pussy you feel like you’re dying. you must be, with the waves of euphoria you’re drowning in, your lungs ache from the near screams of delight that rattle around in your throat with every grind against hawks— especially when he begins to bounce his thighs against your cunt that blossoms for him like a flower from the lands up above.

“you’re awful…” you say, teary eyed despite humping at keigo’s twitching thigh faster and faster with ragged breaths— giving him a front row seat to you losing your mind, to your slit drooling so delicately against him despite how roughly your body moves. his clawed hand reaches the back of your bodice, tearing it into two as if it were nothing and letting the fabric fall away from your bouncing chest.

his mouth is on your breasts within an instant, the heated pink tongue of the god rolling over your darkened areolas and rock hard nipples, standing on end from the cool death chilled air, before the sharpened edge of his teeth sink into your soft mounds. “only just now realising that, honey? when i’m literally the king of death?” hawks let’s go of you with a slick pop, his cheeks flushed red and lips in a state to match— cock and thigh twitching at the little simper you let out from the painful sting of his teeth biting at your skin. your state is no better than his, brows creased adorably in the centre of your forehead, mouth open in a raw ‘o’ shape and your eyes screwed shut while your skin shines with perspiration. a diamond in the rough.

“fuck, you look so fucking good,” the god of the underworld curses, glowing yellow eyes torn between watching your face contort in lechery and your mound, gliding smoothly over his paled yet golden skin— leaving a trail of slick in her wake. “oh fucking hell,” he beefs, from deep within his chest licentiously, the words caught in his throat when you start to bounce up and down in the god’s lap by your own accord. “that’s right, ride it. ride my thigh like you fucking hate me.” he leers, goading you into lifting your hips and slamming your clit back down on his shaky thigh, eyes a dark and molten gold rolling back at the sight.

you don’t have the energy to curse him out again, whimpering and mewling like a fallen angel as you reach out to grab keigo’s shoulder in order to steady yourself. your body is wracked with the shakes and trembles even as your nails dig into his shoulder blades, one hand on his hip, using him as leverage to ride him, throwing yourself down on him as the lewd pap of your sticky pussy fills the sex and death tainted air. hawks’ mouth is back on you, biting and marking your neck, licking a nasty trail from your collarbones and back to the swell of your breasts to suckle on them— only serving to make your cunt fish every time it’s lifted from his thigh, ruining his dark robes with slick and making his wings burn brighter like the ball of lust growing between you.

hawks plants his feet firmly on the floor, his hands smoothing over your ass so he can roughly pull your cheeks apart, slamming you back down on his quivering leg every time it juts up to meet your pretty, syrupy cunt. you squeak, the hood of your clit pulled back, blood rushing right too it carrying sex crazed hormones that make your whole body tingle. “oh, just look at your fucking pussy. so, wet. so nasty.” he laughs like the sight of you staining his leg, humping it like a bitch is ludicrous. “you sure you hate me?” you do, gods you fucking do but you can barely talk with the delight pain that sparks at your ass cheeks as keigo marks them with burns again. branding you with the hades name— making you property of the underworld.

“how can you hate me when you belong to me?” he bleats sweet and soft despite how rough hades is with you, scattering your pretty body with scalding burn marks. “when i make you feel so good that you can’t even remember your own pathetic little mortal name?” he says it then, when he’s growling and smacking a blazing hand down against your bruising ass, making you cry out and howl and drag your nails down his skin. keigo did you a favour, saving your weak and loving soul above all else after your lover had cast you aside— he protected you, nurtured you and all you could do was look at him like he ruined the world for you. so in turn, every time you would act up like this, keigo would fuck you until you were literally an inch from losing your life, reminding you that you bound to him for all of eternity, no matter what you did.

“you’re mine. remember?” he coos to you when your head starts to loll and you’re hiccuping so hard you can’t even think to breathe right. “my little queen of the underworld.”

slumping forward, you don’t slow the roll of your hips, the gentle glide of your slippery cunt along hades’ blazing thigh and instead you shake your head, weakly, miserably to the point where he just finds your denial cute. “‘m not…i-i,” you gargle, words incoherent against the molten core of keigo’s chest. “i fucking hate you—uhuh, yeah…i do.” you moan.

like most humans, you’re fucking pitiful but your voice adorned with lust is enticing to a god who hears nothing but deathly wails all day. “keep tellin’ yourself that; baby but look at how you fall apart on my lap. uhuh…yeah?” keigo flashes you his pearly whites through his condescending smirk and tone, using you so bristfully that every time he pushes you back and forth over his thigh you go as far back as to grind your puffy clit against his knee. “that felt good, huh? yeah i know…you’re all mine.”

you fucking hate him, and that voice of his and how he plays you for a fucking fool.

you hate how his possession over you makes you needy, makes you melt and how you eagerly nod your head, sore and bruised by flames all over as you push it into keigo’s neck— the knot in your tummy nice and tight, so good that it hurts. “‘m close… don’t stop. please, o-oh fuck!” you cry, coated in your own essence as it splatters every time you slam your pretty pussy down on hawks, clenching around nothing, your sweet words soothing the ache in his rigid dick. “j-just like that. f-fuck! keigo!”

the way you drawl out the syllables of his name makes a primal urge stir in the god— he circles your hips on him, let’s his calloused finger tips burn their mark against your hips and your thighs and your ass, knowing that the torment gets you off, makes your creamy cunt wetter. “you gonna cum for me? make a mess in my lap? paint your god with your pretty juices?” he teases, short for breath leaning up with a fond smile until your lips are just barely apart. he wonders how you’ll look when you cum this time; if your sweaty swollen lips with hungrily accept his, if you’ll cry with your eyes closed or look him in his own— your sparkling bambi eyes swirling with hatred and dread like they always do. “c’mon…come on. give it to me, sweetheart, lemme feel you come undone.”

hot fingers, the ones that branded you push into your clit— pinching it as hades writes his signature against your throbbing pussy, moaning with you when you jolt. “yeah, you like that?” he growls, voice hoarse and your body betrays you once more, head nodding into his neck. “mhm, you’re gonna cum like this for me aren’t you? you’re gonna fucking cum for the god you hate. that’s it…oh gods, that’s fuckin’ it, doll.”

“i-i’m! oh gods, keigo—!” you squeal as the knot of lust within you unravels all at once, your core gushing with release as hades makes you dive head first into a blinding orgasm. you violently shake and your thighs lock around his hand that works you through your high and releases the pressure in your pussy, sweet streams of clear arousal soaking his lap and dripping down your thighs. hawks can’t bring himself to stop, doesn’t know where to look as he draws tighter circles on your little nub, drawing out your orgasm for his own amusement, addicted to how your skin shines with your release. “s-stop! please… s’too much!” you squeak.

the world spins harder on its axis and you barely have time to register hawks flipping your positions, folding you with your back to the throne and legs thrown over the bend of his burly arms. he can’t wait any fucking longer, feeling as if his cock might explode without being inside of you, watching you cum like that having sent him into a throbbing frenzy. you haven’t even calmed down yet, still limp from your orgasm when keigo pushes his length through your seeping, glistening folds, red cockhead catching on the hood of your clit in desperation, poking at your fluttering hole, ready to fuck into you while he lets his dick slap along the length of you.

“j-just because you’ve made me cum…doesn’t mean i like you, nor trust you.” you pant in denial, trying and failing to open your pretty eyes to the underworld. “it doesn’t mean anything.”

but keigo, he’s too far gone to care at this point. he could care less if you hate him, if you adore him, worship him or fear him. the only thing on his mind right now is sinking his yearning, pulsating shaft into your slick, slit while you’re still coming down from heaven and back to him in the world below. “don’t give a fuck,” he says, a hankering feeling to fuck you now clouding his mind. “i don’t need your trust little bird, i already know your body fucking loves me.”

he won’t last long and neither will you, you’re already only just hanging on by a thread. “i-i don’t,” you slur, spit on the pad of tongue feeling heavy, you still haven’t recovered from your orgasm, squeezing down on every inch that keigo pushes into you— even though you’re wet beyond belief, your pink little hole can’t help but resist him, as if your body is finally denying him after everything he put you through on his thigh. “n-no…no no!” you cry out, a mess of dry lips and crystal tears, lifting your ass from the seat of the throne to try and coax hawks back into you. “please…need it, y-your cock…p-please!”

“see look, you’re being so nice now… is that all it takes? play with your precious pussy a little bit and you stop pretending to hate me?” keigo laughs huskily, dragging a thumb over his seedy tip as his fat length sits on your tummy— before shoving the soiled digit against your clit, pressing it into your pleasure nub so loosen you up a bit to take him. “this pussy doesn’t hate me, does she? oh no…she belongs to me.”

you shudder at his words despite the heat of his flames, and you’re not even given a second to respond or prepare before his ribbed and red hot cock is shoved into your unused hole, his practised hands lifting you higher from the throne to accommodate for all of his size. “oh…oh god, k-keigo,” you coo like a little angel, your gaze losing its focus while the king of death folds you in half against his royal seat, the forked and purpling veins decorating his shaft pressing up against new pulse points, pinging them with ecstasy the further he presses into you.

hawks bends over your shaky frame, golden and carved abs pressed against the backs of your thighs, the god smothering you with his body once he reaches the hilt, your knees digging blissfully into your shoulders, his cock already nestled against your g-spot from the pure size of him and you feel so full, like keigo is everywhere around you, a pleasant pain thrumming as your squishy insides stretch over his cold. he’s in your guts, your senses, your heart though it’s blackened with hatred for him.

you’re dizzy and your eyes droop, mind void of thought and you don’t have the effort to hate him anymore— not when he makes you feel like this. “nuh-uh, wake up sweetheart, want you to look at me as i fuck ya, kay?” keigo whispers to you sweetly, his blazen hand smacking down on your face, pulling the dirtiest moan you’ve ever heard from between your lips. “that’s it, wake up f’me. listen to this cunt call my name,” he laments tapping your cheek once more and grins at the branded hand print before golden eyes lock themselves away— taking away your sunshine from up above. you listen intently, the lewd squelch of your insides bouncing of stacks of bones and towers of skeletons, at a volume much higher than the cries of the undead. “my messy messy girl, so messy you might as well admit that you’re in love with me.”

while that couldn’t have been further from the truth, you submit to the god who makes you a slave to his cock— slowly withdrawing from your snug walls, pulling out of your sticky selfish cunt. “ain’t it damned shame that lover boy took you for granted?” he growls with a voice tinged with possession. “such a shame that you’re sentenced to slutting yourself out on this cock for the rest of your days…oh fuck, you’re tight.” hips surging forwards, hawks sets a steady pace to rocking his dick into you, blunt cockhead pushing and pulling against sensitive spots that makes you see the stars in the night sky again. and maybe you do consider yourself lucky, without touya fucking you over, you wouldn’t be prisoner to the best dick you’ve ever had.

you hate him, but hades is so, so good—teeth and tongue latching back onto your bouncing breasts as the heat from his flames spreads through you like a wildfire in a forest and the only thing capable putting it out is his precum sloshing in creamy, loose white against your gummy, syrupy walls. “m-my fucking god!” you manage through stuttered breathes, keening into the swipes of keigo’s tongue across your breasts that he’s burned, as if his saliva will soothe you. he ploughs into you at a god speed pace, skin slapping on skin as his balls slam into the curve of your ass and harmonise with your high pitched wails.

“that’s right, baby.” he sounds so elated, moaning happily around your swollen nipples, moving to pant happily into your ear, pressing further and further into you until keigo is hardly pulling away from bullying your g-spot, your juices splashing about the places, running down the length of your slit and your ass to pool underneath you on the marble throne. “i’m yours and you’re fuckin’ mine, for the rest of forever…don’t, ah shit, care what you say. hate me all y’fuckin’ want.”

hawks fucks you like he hates your guts, looking over you, throwing your legs over his shoulder and using his weight to canter into your abused cunt, rocking his throne with a dull thump to each of thrusts. he frees you from the grip that leaves burn marks across your body, to briefly run his hand through sweaty blonde locks, both of you are slick with perspiration, breathing ragged and you’re definitely too fucked out to even see at this point. the sun is keigo; despite the dreary underworld you live in, and the tears blur your vision too much for you to tell this isn’t the land of the living.

“‘m g’na cum,” you tell hades eagerly, feeling like you’re alive the more he fills you up— sexes slotted together like a match made in heaven when you really feel like he’s your own personal hell. “gonna cum so fucking hard.” the pleasure is suffocating, deathly, but you don’t care, crying from every hole possible, locking down on keigo’s ravaging dick when he slaps your entrance to keep you awake— you jolt, sore from every joint and whine out pathetically.

“can feel you cummin’ on me again, better give it all t’me little bird— want your fuckin’ mind, your body, your soul.” he sinks his teeth into the junction at your neck one last time, adding another delightfully painful mark to the rest that litter your body. he does it all to numb your pain of touya leaving you, fills you up with love which you mistake for hate because how can a merciless god who takes lives for fun be capable of loving you. it’s not long before your body does as he says, following keigo’s lead, tumbling down the highway to hell as the bright light of his flames flashes before your very eyes, your release staining his abdomen where it’s smooshed up against your clit.

“oh shit, fuck that’s it,” he’s right behind you too, abs rippling while the mighty god of death trembles above you and pours thick white from his angry red tip straight into your bruised womb, lewd clapping noises filling the air as he rocks into you through the last of your highs. keigo makes a pretty mess of you; creaming your insides as his last mark of possession over you. “my pretty little bird, mine eternally.”

he hopes you’ll forget touya, that you’ll forgive him just this once— stop hating him for once.

but with your foreheads pressed together, bodies limp and uncomfortable against the throne hawks— hades, has conjured up you quickly come to your senses with closed eyes and lost breath.

“i hate you, hades.” you grunt, shame burning at you now instead of him, instead of lust. “get off me.”

4K notes · View notes

tteokdoroki · 1 year

Text

OCTOBER 31ST. DEADPOOL FT. SPIDER-MAN

"you might be wondering why the red suit. well, that’s so bad guys don’t see me bleed."

♱ — katsuki bakugou ft. izuku midoriya + cucking.

♱ — synopsis; with great power, comes great responsibility— such as one’s duty to pleasure his girlfriend ( though failing ), luckily a certain mercenary is able to swing by and take over such a big responsibility on spidey’s behalf.

♱ —length; 7.8K

♱ — warnings; please read for your own safety! mdni, smut 18+, heavy smut, characters aged up to 20s, cucking, threesomes, auralism, dacryphilia, voyeurism, cumplay, mutual masturbation, dry humping, body worship, facials, fingering ( f!receiving ), oral sex ( m!receiving ), mask!kink, fem!reader, deadpool!bakugou, spider-man!deku. not beta read !

♱ — notes; and with that, kinktober is over! thank you to everyone who supported me along the way!! please enjoy this last fic, i realy hope that you like it and have a safe halloween!! ily mwah <3 - m.list₊ kinktober m.list ₊ taglist 𓆩♡𓆪

“yanno,” you say wistfully, dabbing away at a cut underneath your boyfriend’s dazzling green eyes. “i think you got away pretty lightly this time.”

deku hums, forcing away a wince as the rubbing alcohol seeps into the shallow wound— you let him squeeze your hand instead. “aside from my blood dripping across your floor, i’d pretty much agree.” despite how many times he’d sat on your bedroom floor, letting you coddle him and tend to his scrapes and scratches— the cleaning part never got easier. “deadpool always gets me into extra trouble whenever we work together.”

your gaze flickers up to izuku’s in concerned warning, having him stumble into your apartment at ridiculous hours was all fine and dandy when he just needed to be babied and had a boo-boo on his head, but ever since working with whoever this deadpool guy was— your precious boy had been littered with all sorts of stab wounds and now your shifty handiwork stitches. today the bank robbery with said mercenary left your boyfriend with the graze of a bullet, and he was lucky to get away with just that.

“‘m worried about you izuku,” your body keens into his warm hands and soft touch as the superhero pulls you into his lap, fingertips sliding over the curve of your ass and over the fat at your hips lovingly— not even sexually at first, as if each little caress grounds you both, slowing your head beats and filtering out the adrenaline of the night.

he’s so warm, it reminds you that he’s alive and breathing, safe with you for another night. “i’ll try to be more careful, hm?” sensing the spike in your emotions, izuku leans forward with his nose nudging along yours, his lips dragging over the seam of your own, as if to tease you— a reward to follow if you calm down.

“i want you safe,” you huff with no fire behind your words, just about pouting before deku has you locked in a soft, barely-there kiss.

“it’s part of the job,” he says back, quietly, and there’s a beat of silence between you both where longing gazes are cast over features twitching into needy expressions— and before you know it, your mouth is slotted perfectly against his, bruisingly close as your tongue licks into izuku’s hot cavern, searching for is. the once chaste kiss turns sloppy, spit swapped between hungrily moving lips, your noses nudging and lungs burning for the air you won’t get, being joined like this.

even when you do come up for air, you’re back on one another in seconds— practised hands used to fight crime and save lives, trickle up your spine to the base of your neck, pulling you into deku’s web of wanton, one you don’t see yourself wanting to be free from any time soon. his thumb presses nimbly into your throat, an amused chuckle resounding in the base of his own when your eyes grow misty and your tongue rolls out eagerly— with a hankering to be kissed again.

“you want another?”

“i want you.”

now panting, your fingers surge up into forest green locks so you can tug izuku the rest of the way—your teeth sink into his lower lip for you to pull back slowly, gingerly while you hint at your need for more; giving izuku one last chance to call it quits for the night or kiss you properly like you want. he needs you just as badly as you need him, driving forward with the taste of you crackling like dopamine against the neurons in his brain. his heated pink muscle grazes over the swell of your lips, only just quelling the spark of hunger now pumping from his heart into his blood before you welcome him into your mouth with a debauched little sigh that falls into the tail end of a moan.

deku grunts low, in bliss, at the noise, hips jumping up as if triggered by your sweet sounds and your tongues dance together instead of fighting— spit slicked and sliding over one another, down each other’s throats until your makeout is far more heated than anticipated. you seize the opportunity to guide your boyfriend’s free latex gloved hand to your waist once more, giving him the control to guide the flow of your hips while you grind down onto him, grinning at the stiff press of is hard on against your panties through the spider-man suit.

he seems to get the picture, growing handsier by the second and manhandling you back and forth against his swelling cock, izuku’s breath’s much heavier than before. “fuck baby,” he whines into your wet mouth, his lips cherry red and raw, all because of you. “feel what you do to me? so hard…already— for you…” there’s a flutter of pride in your chest, knowing that you’re the one that’s able to make the spider-man a mess like this after he puts on a brave face for the city. only you get to see the cocky, webbed hero hump you like a mangy dog, circling his hips and pushing his throbbing erection against your fat folds in desire— latex covered hands exploring every inch of you they can.

izuku’s lips fall to your shoulder, licking and sucking a trail of kisses up to your neck— nipping here and there, so that bruised blossom under your skin in a signature of off coloured love bites. “wanna fuck you,” he says between the wetter smooches, whispering the words into the junction between your jaw and neck. “gonna lemme, oh shit— fuck you, love?”

your body vibrates at deku’s promiscuous words— each far from the goodie two shoes persona he puts on for the world. he wants to make you feel that badly despite being beaten to shit, and knowing that is enough to spark a fire in your lower belly, the best shooting down to your pussy which flutters as you drag it back and forth across his hard-on through the blue and red suit.

running your fingers through his already mask-missed hair, you map out each little detail of izuku midoriya— his sun spotted cheeks, B-road shoulders and muscled arms, that slender waist of his hidden away by stretchy blue and red fabric. he’s yours, and he’s desperate for you, aching and leaky for you. “gonna let’cha fuck me, ‘zu, need you to take me.”

all of a sudden, he’s like a kid on Christmas unwrapping a present ( in a way you are, his gift after a fucked up day fighting crime ), padding up your spine until you shiver— drawing his name against your back until a finger hooks on the strap of your bra. you’re only wearing a t-shirt, the jagged letters of Spider-Man printed on and peeling off the front, but it’s not like either of you care. the loose fabric gives your boyfriend easy access, unhooking the material with ease and letting it fall down your front. you only part for a moment to let your arms slip through from under your shirt— tossing the sage green garment to the side shortly afterwards.

he can smell you, the salacious and honeyed scent of your sex hanging in the heated, vibrating particles in the air between you. “god baby, how do you always get this wet, this fast.” deku simpers in a tone of awe, two latex fingers pressed into your soaked core, watching you twitch, your body burning up with a new wave of heat. he squeezes your clit, admiring the way you pulse under his hold, tip of his finger then moving to run between your folds to build up the sensation of delightful pleasure inside you.

“don’t get distracted,” you manage to scold your boyfriend, words falling away into a breathy sigh when his mouth latches onto your clothed and budding nipple from under his shirt—he hums in content around your nipple, sucking it into his mouth, happy to toruture you like this. your hands ground yourself in his wild hair, pushing him back from your stimulated chest. “get naked, i think you promised me some dick, ‘zu,”

smiling, the green haired hero reaches up to peck you on the lips. “you’re right, you’re right…mind helping me get out of my suit?” he asks, pulling his working digits away from your cunt in awe, staring at the clear strings of essence that connect them while you nod. wrapping your arms around him, you catch the zipper on the spidey-suit and pull it down, moving back so izuku can shake off his sleeves.

but you’re impatient when you’re horny, frustration fogging your brain as midoriya struggles to get out of the costume he designed. he flails about, the sight only serving to turn you off even further, minute by minute. you love your boyfriend— you do, he’s sweet and nerdy, and you adore that he saves the world… but things like this happen a lot, and you only wished he would take some time out, putting it aside for you. to separate you from his save-the-world-bullshit.

“here, let me help,” you pout, hands on him once more— tugging and pulling at his arms and chest while izuku struggles against the latex with burning, bright red freckled cheeks. he whimpers at every cascade of your finger tips, breath hitching here and there as you work with each other to get it off.

until deku stills, green forest eyes screwing shut, a warmth flooding his lap.

“did you just—?”

“y-yeah?” he stutters, clearly embarrassed by cumming in his pants. “s-sorry, love, i’m sorry—“

with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes, you back off of deku’s lap, shoulders sagging with relief as you look for your underwear in the mess of your room. “it’s whatever,” you shrug it off, not finding them before standing up and away from your boyfriend. “‘m gonna grab some snacks and we can watch some shitty cartoons, and pretend this didn’t happen.”

you leave the room before izuku can catch wind of how disappointed you really are— knowing he might struggle to get it up a second time. the stress of saving the world can do that to you apparently. usually he’ll make it up to you with that silver spider-man tongue of his, the same one that’s chatty with quips directed at villains…but tonight, that just won’t do.

tonight you’d really needed him.

“fuck me,” izuku sighs heavily, laying back on the floor— suit sticky and tight against the skin of his thighs after cumming in it prematurely. submerged in his own self pity— he fails to notice the telling tingle of his enhanced senses, and the sound of your bedroom window sliding up.

“after that shit show? nah, no thanks,” izuku jumps up, gaze shooting over to the window where deadpool pops his head through. “was pretty sad to watch.” the mercenary makes himself comfortable, sliding into the room before crossing one leg over the other as he sits on the window ledge.

you choose that exact moment to re-enter the room, a tray full of snacks and warm drinks to smooth over the awkward evening with your boyfriend. “‘zu, i made you some cocoa, how you like, i’m sorry for the way i reacted earlier i just—“ glancing up as you push through the door, your eyes dart between your boyfriend, Spider-Man, and the new red and black dressed figure— a scream ripping through your body as you drop the tray, deku’s webs catching it safely before the items hit the floor.

deadpool only screams back, covering his face with gloved hands as if to mock his own shock.

“who the fuck are you?” after you regain your bearings, you’re launching at the heavily armed stranger in your apartment; his feet swinging and the white eyes in his mask animatedly moving in a widening motion. you grab the nearest and closest thing you have to a weapon ( a butter knife used to spread pb on your boyfriend’s crackers ) and throw it at the intruder, lodging it into his shoulders just before deku trips you up with a few more webs. “how the fuck did you get into my house?”

“ah, well ya see. ‘m always pickin’ the locks whenever i visit spidey over here— but i must’ve gotten the wrong address this time round.” the intruder sings, peering down at you. you feel like he’s reading your soul through the mask and start to scramble again. “ya never told me how hot your girlfriend was, bugboy. if i look at her any longer Cupid might shoot my ass with a tiny, pointy arrow.”

“i-it was none of your business!” deku grunts, holding you down with webs, another horrified yell building up within you as deadpool pulls the knife from his shoulder and the wound hole closes up on its own. “baby— deadpool, aka kacchan. deadpool— my girlfriend.”

“well, pleasure to meet you, sweetheart,” deadpool…kacchan coos in response, stepping down to use a gloved hand, taking yours in his own and kissing the back of it.

you’d been warned about deadpool, the heinous crimes he committed in cold blood, his playful attitude towards life threatening situations with his dangerous anti-hero attitude, which was less than ideal to work with— all the forewarnings your pretty, goody two shoes neighbourhood hero boyfriend had fed you. but right now, gazing up at the red suited mercenary, you couldn’t find it within yourself to be scared because you hadn’t been warned about how hot he sounded with the gravel in his voice, how built he looked under layers of leather that had clearly been used in combat or war.

coughing, and ruining the moment that has your skin burning, deku clears his throat to ask. “what are you doing here, ‘pool?”

“came to invite you out for celebratory drinks, buddy! we kicked ass t’day, and that’s what friends do, right?” kacchan’s white masked eyes give you both the once over, forming somewhat of a grimace— from what you can tell. “but i see you’re kinda busy with…other, failed plans.”

“we didn’t fail! we were just hooking up, that’s what couples do!”

“barely counts as hooking up shitty spider, can barely keep yer fuckin’ dick up!

as the two super-enhanced dummies argue their way through the situation— you sit mortified, your sex life ( what of it ) sitting bare on the table for the two men to openly to discuss. “i-it’s not always like this!” you gasp, desperately trying to shut them both down.

they both look over to you, kacchan clearly amused. “that’s the sixth fuckin’ time this month!”

“you keep count?” deku squeaks, voice rising anoctave.

“only on tuesdays and fridays, and i gotta admit— your girlfriend has such pretty tits, i dunno how you can’t pop a stiffy just lookin’ at those things, so round…s’soft,” he sounds like his mouth is watering, words sloshed around the spit pooling on his tongue. “i bet they feel as soft as those puppies from the ryan reynolds puppy interview.” bakugou says, looking somewhere off that you can’t see, yours and deku’s eyes follow it to the wall but don’t spot anything.

“who the fuck are you talking to?”

“them, the readers. filthy sluts they are. hi gorgeous…we’ll get to the smutty parts in a bit, kay?” then, deadpool turns back to you. “any fuckin’ ways, i think i’d fuck you better, hah? i can be somewhat of a tender lover,” kacchan sings, the last of his words falling into a gentle whisper. you hear the protests of your boyfriend in the distance, but it does nothing to quell the overwhelming lust tingling at the tips of your fingers and toes, clinging to every crevice of your mind. you wonder if you’re a bad girlfriend for even considering the proposal. “oh come on spidey, you can’t tell me you’ve never imagined someone else fucking your girl?”

within an instant, the masked assassin, katsuki bakugou, ( better known as deadpool ), yanks you up from the floor and spins you into his chest— your back to it, bending you into midoriya’s view. he gives a single, calculated thrust from behind for demonstration, the weight of his cock beneath layers of tarnished red and black leather, bumping against your cunt; knowing what it’ll do to you— cloud your judgement, make you whimper and whine.

between your gasps and sighs of increasing wanton, bakugou let’s his clothed hands travel up your Spider-Man shirt—drawing goosebumps along your skin as they make their way up to your breasts. “i’ll make you a deal,” squeezing the warm fleshy mounds between killer fingers, he pinches your nipples until you arch your back away from his chest with parted lips. “you let me fuck your girlfriend’s cunt and i won’t leak it to the press that you’ve got erectile dysfunction!”

“that’s not true!” izuku whines as if he’s a kicked puppy, cheeks flaming hot and red underneath his sunspot freckles.

an evil, breathy chuckle leaves kacchan’s lips, emitted through his mask against the shell of your ear— sending your body into a fit of shivers, liquid gold gathering between your bare folds at the sound. “sure it’s not, but they don’t know that.” you feel like crying, all the anticipation built up from dry humping your boyfriend earlier coming to a head as soon as you feel deadpool’s fingers on your clit, tapping the tiny sensitive bud as if to see how much it controls your pleasure, how responsive you are to his touch.

the sight of your eyes rolling back from a simple motion over your clit makes blood rush from his heart right down to deku’s cock, bringing it to life again, aching with need. “i don’t… i dunno,” he mumbles, sitting up and leaning forward to watch deadpool play between your thighs, pull pretty moans from between your angel lips. “if this is such a good idea—“

“please ‘zu!” you beg, a quivering mess from just a few strokes to your pretty pussy. “please izuku… please!”

and it’s as if the two men come to a mutual understanding, your boyfriend nods eagerly and the mercenary laughs again in satisfaction. “perfect! now keep still sweetheart, wanna be careful not to cut you up too badly,” he murmurs into the back of your neck. “blood doesn’t wash out too easily, that’s why i use lemon juice ‘n seltzer water. and i wouldn’t want t’mess you up too bad.” your eyes widen in protest when you hear the clang of metal and feel a cool blade practically run up your spine. your stare locks with the trusting one of izuku, who’s hand is already making work rubbing oje off on his new erection beneath the seedy wet stain on his suit, and it takes you a second to realise the man had used the katana strapped to his back to slice through your sleep shirt, causing the fabric to fall way from your chest. “better.”

in the next moment, you’re manhandled face down and ass up onto the bed, izuku moving to sit opposite you against the pillows to watch the scene unfold. you feel bare, fully naked with your glistening cunt on display to the hungry leers of a stranger you don’t know. a man who kills for fun and for sport. “i-it’ll be okay, love,” spidey does his best to reassure you, tentatively taking your fingers in his and pressing a kiss to them— but you don’t miss the way his free hand squeezes his latex bound, weighty balls impatiently.

“so cute, it’s like ‘m watchin’ and aftercare scene straight outta my little pony!” kacchan rolls his eyes beneath his mask, ruining your gentle moment before he turns away to look into the distance again to address his audience. “who’s yer favourite, reader? mine’s the unicorn but between you and me? twilight’s a fuckin’ cock sucking bitch.” with the focus back on you both, bakugou takes a hold of the globes of your ass— pulling them wide apart to get a wiff of your sweet arousal, a glorious view of how they stay connected by strings of your growing slick. “thatsa pretty view,”

squeezing deku’s fingers, and katsuki wastes no time easing one thick digit into your eager hole— pushing whatever leaks from your pussy back into you. your mouth falls open as he curls it, searching for that gummy spot inside you that midoriya knows by heart and hums behind the mask when you spasm around him— locking the finger inside your sweet cunt. “‘nother, c-can i have another?” the way you rasp out your words is like an aphrodisiac to both men, deku’s dick twitching as if you’ve called out for him while his anti-hero coworker groans, clapping his free hand against your ass, watching it jiggle and your juices glue them together again. “p-please, ‘zuku— please, i’ll be good— s-so good,”

spiderman has always been someone to help those in need, and you’re his pathetic little baby— who needs him, needs izuku to feel good and to cum. he can always do that. “i know love,” he inhales sharply, green eyes clouding over like a forest suffocated in a black smog of fiery lust. deku pervertedly looks between your perfectly arched ass, deadpool scissoring another finger into you, and your adorable face— lips between your teeth, eyes fluttering and he can’t help but soothe the pulse in his drooling cock by palming it once more while watching you. “k-kacchan, let’s add another finger, yeah? make her—“

“shut the fuck up, would’ya pretty boy?” katsuki snarls, twisting his fingers along the insatiable, streaming cavern of your core until you choke on a moan. “let’s not forget who’s doin’ the fucking here.” he tells both you and your boyfriend, reminding you of your places. “we had a deal, bug boy,” he punctuates each of his words with a ravishing thrust of his digits past your sluice entrance, making you claw at the sheets and sink your nails into deku’s hand. “and if you want somethin’ pretty girl, you gotta ask for it.”

“d-deadpool,” you plead wetly, lightheaded from the heated excitement of finally being fucked in the way you deserve. “please…”

“it’s katsuki, baby,” there’s movement behind you again, and before you can ask what’s happening—katsuki bakugou is between your trembling thighs from behind, aggressively pulling his mask up and over his chin and nose as if he’s just as needy for this as you are. “‘m gonnna tongue fuck ya,” he says like it’s a statement, his husky voice wavering wwith an appetite for sex. katsuki sounds so much better without the mask, the sound of the deep chocolate octaves of his voice only making you gush around his fingers that plug you full. “and you’re gonna watch, spidey-fuck. god you’re so much more fuckin’ pathetic here than in the comics.”

red eyes behind the white of the mask swill up the way your mound shines under the night and clenches around his gloved fingers that stuff you nice and full. deadpool’s nose nestles itself between your swollen, wet folds— breathing in deep in the nastiest way possible while his cock throbs at the scent of your arousal. it’s then that he juts his head upwards, nudging against your clit that grows even more prominent with each wave of sex hormone laden blood that rushes to it.

“oi underoos, c’mere— lay down on the bed ‘n kiss her while i make out with this little cunt like a horny teenager on prom night.” deadpool sounds excited, happy to be the reason that heat sparks under your skin like being pricked with hot metal— his tongue darts out from his sinful mouth to trace over the length of your slit, humming in content at your honeyed taste. “fuck me, it must be christmas.” bakugou kicks his feet, deku crawling to be flat on his stomach before you. “web her down, she keeps squirmin’.” he adds, practically bouncing for joy when deku uses his web slingers to tie your waist to the bed.

just as your hero boyfriend saves you from letting out a pornographic moan, slotting his own mouth against yours, your uninvited guest does the same— pressing his own to the entirety of aroused sex, sucking greedily at the dribble of slick coming from you like a broken tap. you feel so overwhelmed, two tongues licking at you in two different places. izuku’s tongue slides lazily over yours, head tilting to swallow your voracious, agonised deplores.

“baby y’sound so pretty,” izuku whines, already rutting his hips onto the bed in the same pace that kacchan eats you out, dragging his tongue in circles over your tight hole, faster and faster the louder you get, struggling to keep quiet even as deku kisses you sloppily. hormones breach the air between the three of you, rattling around like crazed particles only served to make you feel dizzy, controlling every movement of your body as you buck your hips back onto the masked face of the man controlling your pleasure, riding out everything on the tip of his tongue. “s’wet down there too…does she taste good kacchan?”

the sounds of katsuki slurping and sucking every drop of your essence from your mound before it can drip onto the sheets below. reluctantly, he pulls away from your slit— connected to your sticky pussy by ropes of your creamy arousal. “like fuckin’ heaven,” he looks up to the ceiling. “sorry big guy,” right before digging back in, the mercenary spitting onto your cunt and watching as the frothy mixture slides down the length of you. in his next movements, he grabs your hips and yanks you back onto his mouth until his tongue is all the way inside of you, the pink muscle writing against ribbed, souse walls. “yer such a mess down here sweetheart, you gettin’ off to this? being used by someone who ain’t your man?”

there’s a guttural rasp in bakugou’s words spoken against the rising temperature between your thighs, marred skin of his chin shining with your viscous arousal. he makes you a mess, ruins you for better or for worse— you can’t tell. you can’t even tell what’s up or down. izuku is in no better shape than you, shamelessly bucking his hips into the sheets below just from watching your expressions as katsuki fucks you with his tongue like it’s his cock.

the bed creaks lowly beneath the weight of your ministrations, every lick and suck, perhaps bite from the anti-hero against your pathetically soaked pussy has your entire body in mind-numbing shivers and shakes, legs threatening to give out on you at any moment. “c-can i cum?” you stutter out, tensing when gloved fingers are once more slipped past the frothing white ring of your entrance— it’s a tight fit, has your eyes bulging and your fingers clawing at anything to hold onto, your boyfriend the victim.

he senses the pain of your death grip before he feels it, supernatural senses causing the feeling to mix into a delightful sting, pulling deku under and stealing his breath from his lungs watching you unravel for another man. it bricks up his length, his seedy precum covered tip catching on the ridges of fabric wrinkling in your bedsheets. everything only intensifies when the mercenary draws a knife from his holster, daring to drag the material against the curve of your ass, smiling wickedly at your attempts to move away from the cold blade despite craving the digits currently plunged inside of you.

he might cum in his suit again, mouth falling open with your own— your moans mingling in unison for a sweet song like a harmony to deadpool’s ears.

“whaddya say spidey, should i let ‘er cum?” deadpool goads, fingers fucking into you at a godspeed pace, tongue tracing his chicken scratch signature into your puffy, overworked clit— keeping you on a tilted ledge familiar to you, right before your high. “should i make your girl cum?”

fat, weighty tears build up in your eyes, the decision sitting in the sex tainted air as your boyfriend holds back his own orgasm. “yes, g-god yes, please let her cum kacchan.”

you feel it creeping up at you, ready to drown you out in endorphins— but as soon as the twisting feeling in your gut comes, it’s quickly ripped away from you, katsuki’s fingers pulling from your sex only to grip at your waist and hoist you how he wants you, despite your whines and begs to feel release.

“nah,” he says simply. “she won’t get t’cum till you do, and you won’t until i do, now isn’t that a plot twist.” he adds addressing you the reader this time, hardly breathing as he yanks down the leather of his pants to grab hold of his dick, thrusting it back and forth between your pussy lips as if they’re welcoming him home— met with resistant only when pushing into, despite how much he’d stretched out your little hole. “didn’t i open ya up enough sweetheart? you’re still so fuckin’ tight…or maybe spidey doesn’t get his cock in you enough to make a difference.”

deku sits up at the change in position, a superhero strength taking over him as he rips through his latex suit— finally bringing some relief to his erection. your boyfriend’s cock feels and looks different to deadpool’s… he’s longer where katsuki is thick, pale with a pretty pink tip covered in white from how turned on he is from watching you get ruined by someone he’s worked with. your own mouth waters, watching izuku take hold of his curved shaft that pulses with the mean words his colleague spits at him— precum clings to each vein, adding a sinful shine to the length of him, guiding the steady movements of his fist that cups his cock…enjoying the show.

“she gets a little tighter right before you push in,” the green haired hero beefs from deep within his throat, the glow of his eyes trained on the way bakugou’s fat cockhead brushes against the beginnings of your soft walls, trying to push into your little abused cunt. your eyes water at the delightful sting, tears streaking a path down the apples of your cheeks as your body breaks into a sheet of goosebumps. “gotta keep tryin’ s-she’ll take you eventually.”

they talk about you like you’re not even there, using you in one way or another to get off but katsuki tries again, peeling his leather covered chest from your sweat slicked back and shoving his knee between your soaked thighs to part them even wider. deku groans as even more of your pulsating pussy stretching around the masked man is revealed to him. “it…h-hurts,” you hiccups, muscles in your hips locked despite how badly you want it. “y-you’re bigger than ‘zuku, katsuki,” and even though there is a twinge of pain every time the anti-hero fucks an inch of his length into you, you rock your hips back onto him— smiling to yourself as more of his girth sinks into you.

“ya hear that, shitty bug. your girlfriend thinks my cock is worth more than yours,” a contended, deep sigh lays wet on bakugou’s lips— teasing in tone as he ploughs onwards, his voice making your cunt shudder and grip onto his mushroomed, oozing tip, letting your cunt catch onto every ridge and bump and burned imperfection decorating his shaft. “tellin’ me how to fuck this pussy when he’s barely been in it himself, pathetic, hah sweetheart?” you should feel bad for agreeing, nodding your head feverently, but there’s hardly time to think what you say over. bakugou’s fingers, calloused from whatever birthed deadpool dance over your soft tummy, your hip bone to pacify the bite of your pain by fumbling with your pleasure bud, writing praise against it so you open him up like a flower in bloom— sweet nectar painting his entire hand, and again the skin of your thighs.

“you gonna let him take you, love?” deku manages to ask over the drool filling his mouth and flooding the palette of his tongue. “i know you can, you’ve always been so good at doing what you’re told.” the rising temperature of the room turns his face as red as the suit cutting deliciously into your skin from behind, kacchan’s mask tough against your back and ass as he grinds his meaty cock into you.

you shake your head yes for what feels like the millionth time, head lolling back to rest against deadpool’s shoulder— too weak to hold himself up since the added stimulation between your legs as you selfishly sucking more of the man in, letting his girth nestle itself against your warmth, churning you up just right. the more attention he pays to your clit, the more of himself he fucks into you until he’s able to bottom out, balls snug against your iron hot cunt. every movement, each twitch in the room comes to a standstill so everyone can adjust, your core rippling around katsuki and izuku beginning to cup his dick, waiting for his friend’s command to touch himself.

bakugou sets a steady rhythm to his hips, calculatedly making sure each one hits deep enough to smear his thick precum against your g-spot, his hips fluidly flowing into you like a rushing river— skin on skin echoing throughout the room. slick sounds accompany the tune of sex, izuku wrapping a firm hand around his own shaft, jerking himself off in tune with the speed at which katsuki passionately ruts into you— shameful and creamy as you swallow him up. deku fucks his fist like it’s your greedy little entrance, if he closes his eyes tight enough it feels just like you. sweat beads on his hairline like humiliation builds up in his bloodstream, carried about his body and straight to his arousal bleeding tip that his thumb circles over, pushing through the beads of precum at the slit.

you feel everything, the slow stroke of deadpool’s creamed tip into your sluice and gooey insides, drowned in what feels like gallons of your essence— weakly rocking your hips down onto his, with tiny mewls that send both men into a frenzy. “couldn’t get your dick out for your girl but could for me fucking her? pathetic.” he sneers to your goody two shoes boyfriend, making him feel like even more of a pervert.

perhaps this does make him one, it’s been so long since izuku gave you the time of day and the attention that you needed— hanging his duty of Spider-Man just one peg above you always. he couldn’t even begin to imagine the amount of nights he’d left you, his loyal and sweet girlfriend unattended to because being the friendly neighbourhood hero garnered all of his focus. maybe being a little debauched was what your sex life needed, for izuku to take a seat and really learn how to make you see stars. to have his lover ravaged and pounded into like a bitch needing to be fucked in heat.

that’s what he needed to wake up— see how much his baby needed him. “‘m sorry,” he hiccups, emerald gem eyes filled with crystalline tears that catch in his waterline, from pleasure or regret, your boyfriend can’t even tell. clear precum guides his movements, hips rising from the bed needily while his palm slides up and down his lengthy and chubby shaft, white caught in the fuzz of his pubic hair. “‘m sorry i’m no good at f-fucking her— shit, that i can’t keep it up. love, god…”

“fuck me, yer whiney,” deadpool laughs between heaves of his chest, concentrated on taking you to cloud nine— letting you know that he fucks you better than anyone who has before. “aren’t you embarrassed that a man like me has both you and your girl a mess? c’mon spidey, at least act like you hate me doing your job.” izuku howls at the degradation, and though your eyes are hazy, you swear that he’s swollen with an impending orgasm— the shredded latex that covers his hands squeezing at his weighty balls that look just about to burst. “still don’t know how a wet wimp like you managed to bag such a pretty lady, s’almost like she’s paid to be here,”

licking a stripe up your neck, bakugou goes on, hands exploring every dip and curve in your body— pinching your sides and your clit and your nipples, nibbling on your shoulder and leaving marks where izuku would. “you know that right, that you’re fucking gorgeous,” his praise sends a shiver down your spine and butterflies in a frenzy within your lower tummy, leaving you gasping for air and a clenching mess. “moans sound so perfect, pussy swallowin’ me down… never met such a good girl, even when you’re crying like this.”

“i-i’m a good girl?” you manage over the balls tapping your pearl at the centre of your viscous honeyed cunt, wet slaps bouncing off the wall.

“so fucking good, sweetheart, love how you wrap around me, how you take this cock— you like it, i know you do,” he goes on, cupping your breasts as they bounce along with the rapid lunges of his hips, choking on a deep gripe of your name. “you like bein’ fucked while your boyfriend watches, you like that it’s me, don’t you? let’s play a game sweetheart, let’s pretend i’m your boyfriend who knows how to fuck you just right? yeah? get you all loved up and cockdrunk.”

one second he’s balls deep, the early signs of katsuki’s release painting your guts as he churns them up, the next he’s got you flipped onto your back— your head by izuku’s lap and your thighs hiked over the latter’s broad, muscular shoulders. the whole world tilts on its axis, your head swimming and ears filled with cotton at the new angle, deadpool ramming into you missionary style and fucking you like he means it, like he loves you.

“h-hah, k-katsuki…need more. need you!” you squeal, his tip grinding roughly against your g-spot over and over until it makes your vision shake. his pelvis is smooshed agonisingly against your swollen clit, stimulating you beyond belief, ripping you to shreds while every push and pull of his slender hips pieces you back together again.

seeing him smirk above you as he cages you in against the soiled sheets with one hand above your head, has you a sweating, wet mess— heavy tears clumped in your lashes at the view. deadpool’s…katsuki’s got to be attractive, you just know it. though his skin seems littered with rough, harsh scars, it glows golden under the artificial yellow lighting in your bedroom— tufts of blonde peek out from below the mask and you feel yourself grow woozy at his bright, white toothy grin. your hands, curious and needy, run from his slender and slutty waist up to his bulking arms and toned chest— mapping out his body built to kill, to fight, and when your arms wrap around his neck, you whimper with frustration, perhaps desperation— greedy eyes and cunt wanting more.

“take off your mask,” you beg between hiccuped cries, mouth hanging open when the mercenary’s speed picks up mercilessly. “wanna see your face… wanna know who’s f-fucking me this good.”

cocking his head to the side, a rough thumb presses into your clit between your joined bodies. “ask me nice ‘n pretty, gorgeous. r’member who you’re talking to.”

you keen into his touch, back arching off the bed and ankles locking just above his ass. you hear izuku above you, groaning at the sight before him— while his friend moulds you into the shape of his cock. “go on baby, know you can be good…use your manners,” he heaves, shifting so that his knees are either side of your head, fisting his cock rapidly over your tear soaked face.

“please,” you repeat to both of them, pout on your face, voice hoarse.“t-take off your mask, please.” it’s only fair he does as you ask, since both yourself and deku are practically naked— himself almost fully clothed.

pulling the hand locking you against him, bakugou uses it to rip off his mask— tossing it back into the room somewhere only to lean down close, squishing your cheeks between his rough fingers. “like what’cha see gorgeous?” his voice is thick with ecstasy, filtering through your ears like warm honey and filling you with a similar sense of heat. katsuki is a fucking god. where your boyfriend, deku, is pretty, adorable and sure does have his moments, deadpool is another kind of attractive— a scar from his battles running down the length of his chiselled face as if he’s been carved from the same marble used to make statues of gods. his eyes remind you of molten lava, red pools bubbling over with such intensity you might pass out. “‘cause i do, love how you look right now, pussy chokin’ my cock like you wanna milk it, clingin’ onto me. love it, sweetheart.”

“love you,” you mewl in response, the world around you beginning to fall away— cease to exist, where the only feelings you know are katsuki’s shaft pressing up against your inner most sensitive spots and izuku tapping is leaky cock against your cheeks, wet moans of your name, tight and broken clinging to the air. “i love you, love your cock, love this, love you ‘zuku…” the three of you are a mess of juices splashing about the place and hot-to-the-touch skin, waves of clear liquid spewing from your puckered hole, creating a wet pap every time katsuki plunges back into you at unthinkable speeds.

“you love me, hah? c’mere,” bakugou swoops down, a grip on the backs of your thighs as he pushes your knees towards your chest and connects his lips to your own. the new angle has all of his weight onto you, galaxies forming behind your eyes while he pounds into your foaming entrance with rhythmic claps. his tongue swipes over your bottom lip, delves into your mouth until you can feel him right in your throat and sucks on your lips until they’re swollen and raw. “gonna take care of you where the shitty bug can’t, keep this pretty body nice and full of my cock— fuck me baby, you’re so sweet.” he tells you like it’s a promise, fucks it right into that empty head of yours.

while you grasp at sunshine locks, deku pants weakly behind you, strings of his near release dripping onto your face— his voice rising in octave. he’s trying so hard not to cum, savouring the pretty show being put on just for you, a front row seat to your sex grinding slick and lewdly up against bakugou’s, a creamy ring frothing around his base. “kacchan,” he cries, squeezing the bottom of his own dick to stave off his orgasm. “‘m gonna cum.”

“no. you’re not. you wanna cum before your girlfriend does? no wonder why she’s so hungry for me cock you can barely last yourself,” although the blonde’s words are mean, evil enough to make your precious boyfriend hiccup with his own wave of tears, running low on stamina and hips rutting high into nothing, bakugou takes hold of deku’s chubby cock, guiding it before your lip locks and kisses. “suck, sweetheart. he cums, you get to cum, kay?”

“uhuh,” you agree, pacified by having both of your entrances filled and let your strawberry tongue glide over izuku’s salty tip just the way he likes— hollowing your cheeks to suck him in nice and deep.

between watching his girlfriend get her pussy destroyed by another man and having her swallow him down, tight throat constricting around him— there’s no way izuku can last any longer, especially when bakugou spits on to his shaft, rolling his balls too. he wants nothing more than to watch you both fall apart from him, switching his attention from your boyfriend to you, seemingly flipping a cold blade out of nowhere to press against your throat— knowing it’ll only get you wetter, sloppier and messier, messing with your mind.

it gets you to clench just right too.

“fuck…that’s it, fuckin’ shit…” katsuki seems to have no control over his body either, barely holding back but the sight of your throat bulging for deku and your creamed cunt is enough to send him over the edge. he chokes on a moan of relief, tip nudging your g-spot and hands shaking with the treat of cutting your pretty throat as he runs towards his orgasm. “g-god sweetheart, got me breedin’ you. fuck, you want it bad,” static nearly blinds the anti-hero, curses spilling from his lips like his gum that spills into you in hot white ropes. he hisses, pulling his cock from your spasming hole and jerks himself off through the rest of his high, cumming and cunning until it splatters up your soft, marked tummy and over your ruined pussy lips.

“can i cum now? c-can i? d-don’t think i can— oh baby… h-hold it!” your spider-man boyfriend comes next, thick and right down your throat until you choke on his heavy seed as it pours out by the corner of your swollen lips— he has to web your wrists together to stop you from pinching his freckled thighs so that he pulls out, the rest of his hot load shooting over your face, tangling in your eyelashes as his body convulses above your own.

with his breathing evening out, bakugou takes hold of his weighty length, smearing his seed into your skin and over your ravaged mound— knowing that you sit on the edge of your own release, a stunning mess of tears and cum and juices. “think it’s your turn, hah, pretty girl?” he grins wide at how you can barely manage to nod, and exhausted from the night’s activities. the blonde mercenary only tuts, slapping his cockhead against your clit, pushing it into your slit along with globs of his cum until the knot in your stomach twists, unravelling violently and all at once, release splattering out against his stomach, in a clear stream. “there you go, doin’ so well.”

“so well beautiful,” izuku parrots, mesmerised by the way your face contorts into an adorable pout while you cum, coated in his own release that spreads over his tongue as he leans down to kiss you slow, and encouragingly to swallow the scream you let out.

the three of you collapse a pile of over exerted limbs, with deku checking you over like the hero he truly is.

“so, same time next fuckin’ week?” deadpool asks, grinning when you agree hastily. “and oi, you lot. don’t go askin’ for a part two. it ain’t happenin’, it’s a private screening.”

deku hums in agreement too, but makes a mental note to ask iron man to make him a looser suit, for practical reasons of course— not so it’s easier for him to fuck you, or anything.

2K notes · View notes

tteokdoroki · 1 year

Text

OCTOBER 29TH. THE WINTER SOLDIER

“who the hell is bucky?”

♱ — eijirou kirishima + non-con/dub-con.

♱ — synopsis; he’s not a bad man, he promises you that. it doesn’t matter how many people he’s killed with his bare and metal hands…kirishima will make sure you know how sorry he is by the time he’s done with you.

♱ —length; 5.2K

♱ — warnings; please read for your own safety! mdni, smut 18+, heavy smut, dark content, mentions of murder, assasinations, stalking, non-con to. dub-con, drugging, phallophilia, begging, manipulation, virginity loss, cherry chasing, power dynamics, breath play, temperature play, fingering ( fem!receiving ), strength!kink, softt fem!reader, yandere!kirishima, winter soldier!kirishima. not beta read !

♱ — notes; happy saturday angels!! we’re so close to the end of kinktober waaah!! i kinda like this one, it’s a bit dark so please be careful when reading !! check the warnings as well… tbh ive had kiri brain rot all this week, so this makes sense !! as usual, hope you enjoy <3 - m.list ₊ kinktober m.list ₊ taglist 𓆩♡𓆪

people make mistakes every single day— they can be simple and mundane, like tiny little white lies when you forget something important to someone though it might hurt their feelings. the burn of embarrassment whenever you’d messed up in front of an entire class.

mistakes were common. everybody made them, eijirou kirishima made them— they were out of his control.

the winter soldier was a man lost in his own mind, watching his life go by behind vermillion eyes— taking others with hands that no longer loved or felt like his own. to them, hydra, his creators…kirishima was the ideal weapon, a blank canvas to turn into something sinister and evil. a good natured, strong man carved into the perfect shape to be a killer. behind his own soft, once expressive ruby eyes; eijirou was forced to watch the life drain from the corpses of others— people who had families waiting for them back home with home cooked meals they’d taken for granted, people with children they’d wished they’d raised right or friends that hadn’t quite forgiven them.

kirishima had heard it all, the pleas for him to let them live and do better right before they died by his hands in the most brutal way. each time he ended a life, a piece of his soul went with them, years internal torture following him like a dark fog— weighing down on him like heavy rainfall, soaking him to the bone with red. it’s caked against his skin, ingrained deep under his nails no matter how much he scrubs at them with a bar of soap and water.

death follows kirishima everywhere, aches in his bones and the creaking silver metal of the winter soldier’s arm. it was a curse, a burden that he couldn’t bare to carry on his shoulders— the serum in his veins like a poison that had stolen his memories, the happy soldier boy he used to be.

he hates the way people look at him now, breaking free from hydra— the sympathy shining in their eyes, he hates the way you look at him too. part of kirishima’s recovery, as suggested by his therapist, was to make amends with every person impacted by his crimes as the winter soldier, and you, the sweet girl next door were next.

kirishima killed your father years ago, before you could probably spell your own name without sounding it out— he had been a kind diplomat wanting nothing but peace. after his release from cyro, eijirou had tracked you down, only to discover he’d taken your mother’s life too, in a tampered car crash. you’d been alone ever since.

the winter soldier had taken a happy childhood from you, made you the cute little recluse next door who hid in her stuffy parchment scented apartment— with books stacked high, romance your favourite genre, what you found your fantasies in. kirishima couldn’t deny the way his heart fluttered, but guilt edged itself over the expanse of his brain whenever you pitied him in the coridoors between your tiny rented apartments ( though from his recent hero work and inheritance from captain america, he could probably afford to buy tha building out ). your shiny doe eyes would pity him, see the pain in the winter soldier’s own as well as that breaking in the vibranium laced in the arm that wasn’t really his.

in his one hundred plus years of living, kirishima had probably been on more dates than you had knowledge on boys and the reality of romance in general.

you’d been made that way because of eijirou.

because of the winter solider.

and he would make it up to you, he would. it was a promise and the least he could do.

years of training had made it easy for kirishima to slip into your apartment that night— silly you, poor little you for having left your window wide open, letting the bulky ex assassin slip through as if he was a silent Siamese cat being welcomed home. footsteps carrying no sound effortlessly slipped into your bedroom just for a peek at you.

kirishima could have watched you forever, drawn to the way your lips twitch as you sleep and your eyes screw shut even tighter as if you’re being drowned in your own worst nightmare. you’re adorable.

you have no idea what’s about to come next.

it makes the winter soldier’s cock twitch beneath his clothing, leaking fat globs of precum against his inner thighs. he aches to be inside of you, feel you blossom around him like a flower in the spring for the first time— ‘cause god you’re so innocent and inviting.

there’s an instinctual chill down your spine, one that breaks you from your heavy slumber and has your shooting up— doe eyes wide like a deer in headlights while you search for the figure that had been looming over you in the dark. “e-eiji?” your whisper sits hoarse in your throat, voice laced with cute little wisps of sleep, the nickname you’d given him shooting straight to his erection. “what are you doing here?”

“oh nothin’,” eijirou lies, “just the neighbourly thing and asking for a cup of sugar?” the smile that he gives you is quick, not quite reaching his eyes that usually hold such kindness… there’s something off about kirishima tonight, something that makes you feel sick to your stomach and makes you want to run.

you can’t scramble from the sheets fast enough, for the winter soldier has been trained to move faster— bulky arms swinging around your waist before your feet even hit the floor, throwing you back into feathery pillows of your bed despite your kicks and screams. it’s frightful how kirishima can just manhandle you any way that he wishes, using the bulk of his body to get you onto your stomach like it’s nothing, like the winter soldier would and not your soft, mellow companion who laughs with his gut and grins with the ruby in his eyes. the one who pulled you out of your house for walks to the library late at night.

this version of the man who lives next door, who told you he was recovering from war wounds long before your time, growls deeply as he grabs you by the back of you throat and tugs your head to rest on his shoulder— breathing deep from where you’ve put up a fight, hissing from where your trimmed nails scratch at his one good and fleshy arm. “don’t fight it, please,” he comments, nosing under your earlobe, breathing in the scent of vanilla and money milk from your body wash. “i just want to make it up to you, for what i did to your parents. for taking your childhood away from you.”

hairs on your neck stand on end, you don’t know if it’s from the mention of your dead relatives or from the way kirishima’s belt clinks as if he’s been undoing it— his metal hand, the perfect killing weapon, folds coolly against your neck and with one wrong move it could crush your windpipe in a second. “e-eijirou what are you—?” you stutter, voice spiking with fear, lodged in the dry ridges of your throat. “m-my parents—“ eyes widening, the realisation hits, you know exactly what he means.

you know that it’s him who murdered them.

“baby,” the winter soldier coos as you thrash dangerously in his grip, a second away from having your neck snapped. lunging forward, your hot and teary face is stuffed into the pillows to the point where you almost can't breathe, kirishima straddling your hips while simultaneously pushing more of his clothes away. “‘m sorry… s-sorry for what i did to you.” for what he’s doing to you— pushing your flimsy nightshirt up your back, over the curve of your fleshy ass.

a pleaful whimper lays on your sweet lips, tears welling in your eyes as you practically scream for the ‘hero’ to get off of you— let you go. you’re devastated, trust betrayed by a friend you thought you’d made, a friend now using your body for his own selfish gain. the red head squeezes at the flesh now exposed to his heated hungry stare, running his metal arm over your curves, precious thighs and cute ass—revelling in the way your entire body reacts just for him, goosebumps rising across your back like chicken skin.

“you’ll forgive me, right?” he goes on, words broken up by shuddered breaths as eijirou’s metal fingers slip between your thighs from behind— spreading apart pretty pussy lips that glimmer with slick, evidence to you of your body’s betrayal , but to him of anticipation, excitement. forgiveness. “just wanna make it up to you,” he murmurs almost empathetically, voice thick with lust— it feels like the war hero is making fun of you, pinning you down against your will between muscular thighs. “i’ll make it feel so good, baby. promise. i’ll make it worth your while, make you forgive me.”

tears are hot on your cheeks, burning down the apples of them in salty tracks— you don’t want this, you don’t want him, the man who supposedly gave his life to save Captain America, to take something so precious to you. your virginity— not after finding out he killed your parents in cold blood. you feel almost sick for having found kirishima attractive before, for dreaming of situations a little similar to now, where you’d cry out his name as he made love to you and made you feel seen. eijirou mistakes the wince of your body as he circles a cold digit around your tiny entrance for a twitch of pleasure, grinning to himself as he adds a thumb to your clit to draw slow, salacious circles around the swelling nub— the coldness sending shockwaves up your spine.

it feels nice, good— but that doesn’t make you resist it any less, make you want him anymore. small whispers of ‘p-please eiji—‘ hiccuped into the sheets soaked with both your arousal and tears. a fresh wave of unexpected slick gushes from your virgin cunt when kirishima slaps his bare cock against the length of your slit, as if he’s going to take you with little to no preparation. he’s big, throbbing and soaked with his own milky arousal, his veins fitting snug between your pussy lips, fat and blue while his tip blares an angry shade of red.

if this were any other time, you’d be happy to have your mouth water— filling with thick drool at the thought of having the winter soldier’s massive girth split you open and be your first. yet, as eijirou grinds his meaty cock into your filthy, embarrassingly soaked virgin mound, you remember that he’s not so nice. trapping you between strong thighs, a metal arm and a frightening snarl.

“eijirou please—“ you try again, wiggling your hips to get away from him as he ruts his achy tip through your sweet lips, bumping your clit, until he reaches right between your ass cheeks. “p-please don’t do this. i’ll…i’ll do anything you want! i’ll forgive you!”

“jus’ let me do this,” the winter soldier slurs over the spit pooling on his tongue, dazed by the way the clear strings of your juices cling to every vein of his cock— make it shine even in the dark. kirishima feels feverish, the scent of your innocent cunt driving him insane, on the brink of forgetting his mission— making it up to you. sweat drips from his hairline, even though he’s barely started, hitting the small of your back. “it’ll be okay, she’s… your pussy… she’s dripping for me.” he says like he’s in disbelief, grabbing hold of his dick and nuzzling it against your swollen pleasure nub to hear you whine like a pretty bird song. “she wants this, you want this. i’ll do what’s right, make it up to you.”

tiny fingers grip the blankets below as kirishima makes a move to push his precum loaded cockhead past your tight little entrance, moaning breathily while hunched over you. you’re sure you’ve bitten your lip to the point of bleeding, red and raw at the slightly painful intrusion of the winter soldier’s dick past your virgin entrance. “‘shima,” you shake your head, watery eyes stinging. “it hurts,” you add weakly.

pulling back with a deep groan, eijirou runs his human hand through his sweaty mane. the last thing he wants to do is hurt you more— add to the heartache of losing your parents. “fuck baby...didn’t mean to hurt ya, we’ll try something else okay?” it’s almost sick how kind he sounds, even if there’s a wobble to what he says. there’s a shift behind you, and you almost miss the heat of his cock against you, only for it to be replaced with the frozen temperatures of his vibranium fingers prodding against your spasming hole.

against your own will, your thighs twitch apart instinctively— making room for kirishima between them as he circles the rim of your entrance, living up his fingers with the salacious pool of your arousal before pushing against the resistance of your unclaimed walls. “stay still baby, s’gonna sting for a bit,” he comments, choking on a depraved, corrupt gasp at how warm you are inside. the redhead stuffs you full of two fingers, sliding them into you with the aid of your honeyed cunt, and immediately scissors them, curling them to map and get a feel of your velvet walls.

you’re untouched territory, an empty playground of innocence and purity and now…kirishima’s for the taking. he’ll teach you things, he thinks while stretching open your hot little cunt to prepare you for his cock. he’ll teach you real pleasure, real love, all the things you missed out on after he ruined your life.

“eiji—!“ your cry is needy, amorous as you claw at your pink pillow cases, hips jutting back clumsily at the first shocks of ecstasy to flitter into your blood stream. you’ve never felt like this before.

“how’s this, baby? better than before?” the winter soldier drawls, practically as needy as you with a pout on his lips, red brows furrowed in concentration for making amends with you and your pretty pussy. his gaze of blood rubies falls to how your creamy sex sucks in his two metal digits, pressing coldly against new spots inside of you, curled against spongey walls until you’re cross eyed and the room spins.

“s’oh my god,” comes your muffled, sweet grouse— the adorable sound tearing in your throat. “s’better… oh, eiji!”

he needs you to understand that this is all for you, every calculated drag of his thumb over your sticky swelling clit, every stroke of his vibranium fingers rapaciously pumping in and out of succulent unused mound is meant to bring you to the high heavens and help you forgive him. kirishima’s chest swells with pride knowing he’s the first to have you like this, seeing you clamp down on him as he pleasures you, thumb glued to your little nub, writing apologies into it. “i need you to know, baby,” he says in awe of how you take him, even if you squirm and pretend to resist. “that ‘m so sorry, that i’ll do my best t’take care of you like this…”

a weird feeling in your lower belly starts to build up, in slow stacks like building a house from the beginning— all of the new sensations that come with it having distracted you from the reality of the situation. you can’t trust the winter soldier anymore, not to protect you and not to look out for you— especially when he’s ravaging your puffy pussy while pinning you in place. you hate that it feels good, making your brain tingle and happy hormones crash across it in heavy waves but you can’t help it. your hips buck back onto eijirou’s fast paced fingers which move along your slippery walls at an impressive speed, collecting your juices in the seat of his silver palm.

somewhere, a voice in the back of your head tells you to scream and cry and kick eijirou off— but all you can do is whimper and whine for more as he whispers sinisterly sweet nothings into the shell of your ear. ‘is this enough, baby?’ he’d sigh. ‘can you take more?’ or ‘i hope this makes it up to you’, each candied word sending sparks of ecstasy down your spine and flutters through your darling cunt while eijirou moulds you to take his cock.

“need ya to cum for me sweetheart, you’ve taken me so well,” he chuckles from behind you, gentle as his fingertips brush against your g-spot. the praises are warm, familiar to the real eijirou kirishima you know lives next door. before you knew the harm he’d done to your family. “can you do that for me, please? then i can fill you up so good, make you truly forgive me. please baby— i fuckin’ need it.” there’s an air desperation about the big burly man finger fucking you to his hearts content, and you think that if you let him keep talking— if you give him this, he might leave you alone.

“i think—‘shima, it feels weird…t-think ‘m gonna c-cum?” you squeak, unsure despite the impending feeling of the rope twisting in your lower tummy that burns as thick metal digits curl against your gummy insides, doused in your syrupy juices. kirishima doesn’t let up, breathing ragged from behind you as he jackhammers his fingers deep inside of you until his palm smacks against your bubbly ass with every stroke.

he seems pleased as your thighs begin to shake violently, the grip your angel cunt has on him tightening while his shameless stare shoots down to where your limbs meet and you ooze onto him. “let it go baby, you’re gonna feel so good, lemme see, i wanna see you cum,” eijirou damn near begs in a delighted and devoir sigh. a scream rips through your body, dwarfed beneath the size of the super solider as the winding cord in your tummy finally breaks its tension— the pressure that had been building inside of you coming crashing down and your orgasm tearing through you, spilling in clear liquid from your sticky and squelching sex. your teary and dazzling doe eyes screw shut, rolling back into your skull while you release, tainting your folds with a sugar glaze shine— the sweetest treat in the world to kirishima being making you feel good.

he doesn’t relent on your poor pussy as you shake throughout your very first high, stealing the precious moment from you and any future partner who might really love you— who’s not obsessed with the idea of your forgiveness. eijirou thumbs fast and cruel shaped into your raw clit, overstimulating you until the stream of your release stops seeping through the bedsheets. “good girl, such a good girl,” he hums, slowly pulling out of you while you spasm through the aftershocks of cumming for the first time. “stay here, kay? ‘m gonna get something before we have you try ‘n take my cock.”

the weight of the winter soldier eases off of you, letting air fill your lungs and a clear conscious return to you.

you wait until his footsteps are no longer audible to make your move, shooting up from the bed with no time to think about how sick your favourite hero is— for thinking you’ll forgive the deaths of the people you love most in exchange for him taking away your precious purity.

but you don’t have time to make a run for it, tackled to the bed once more by the stronger, trained killer. “i thought i told you to stay put,” kirishima snarls at you like you’re meek prey to him, forgetting his manners and his mission. “don’t you listen, baby? this is all for you,”

“i don’t want you!” comes your bratty little yell ( at least to the winter soldier ), who only throws you back onto the bed in the same position you were before— sitting heavy on your waist with your face shoved into the sheets. “please eijirou, l-let me go! i won’t tell anyone what you did! i’ll keep quiet! i’ll—“ your words fall away as eijirou grabs you by the back of the neck and you feel a sharp pinprick to your side. “w-what was that?”

a wooziness takes over you, calming your brain like it did when eijirou was making you feel good. “‘m sorry, i didn’t want to have to use it,” he says with what feels like faux sympathy. “but you just wouldn’t listen!” the redhead eases you down onto the bed once more, it’s a little something that’ll make accepting my apology a little easier, baby. so you stop squirming, so it hurts a little less. now be good, yeah?”

“y-yeah, okay,” you reply, slow blinking as your body begins to accept its fate.

using the remnants of your previous orgasm, kirishima slicks himself up again, running the meat of his shaft along the length of your quivering pussy— sending hormones of lust dancing across your brain. you can’t see him; but kirishima’s cheeks are flushed with unadulterated desire, his gaze swimming each time he taps the head of his cock against your souse pulsating hole. “gonna fuck you so good, gorgeous, don’t you worry.” he says, words a little too rushed and too eager, and without warning, the war hero’s hips jump forward to drive his cock into the deepest parts of your sex, fully lubed up with all your piquant juices.

eijirou is bigger than you’d dreamed off before all of this, weighty against the stickiness lining your unclaimed, gummy walls. you can feel every brown wrapped pretty around his girth pressing into pleasure spots you’ve not even had a chance to discover for yourself. his breath is shaky and uneven, prickling at your ears despite the static that crackles across your brain— from lust or from the drug you can’t even tell.

“i wanna move, baby,” the winter soldier gasps, wavering and hips stilling just as he reaches the hilt. this is the least he could do for you, try to be gentle as he completes this last mission— takes your virginity. in all these years of training for hydra, kirishima has never exercised such restrained, barely keeping himself together with every flutter of your sex and ripple of heat from your body around his cream soaked dick. “so tight, you need to be fucked. you need me, s’gonna be okay baby…just lemme take you.”

against your better judgement, the voice in the back of your mind screaming at you to fight back— you roll your ass back to meet kirishima’s hips, pushing your searing cunt further onto his girth as if to coax him to move until eijirou is completely bottomed out and balls deep inside, oozing sweet nectar down his thighs and balls alike. “p-please,” you slur cutely, hating your body for wanting him so bad after everything he’s done to you. “w-wanna forgive you,”

that’s all the motivation the winter soldier needs to go through with it all, you yelp at the pure strength he possesses in manhandling you into the perfect arch— all of his weight dropping onto you with his caramel and sweaty chest pressing to your back. a pathetic hiccup escapes you when kirishima simultaneously latches onto your neck and pulls his cock from you, using teeth and tongue, lolling the pink muscle over your skin, decorating you with lovebites you won’t be able to hide from nosey onlookers. in one powerful thrust, he’s filling you back up to the brim— all the way up in your guts until you feel him in your tummy, making you feel dwarfed by the super soldier above you.

with what little energy you have left, still doped up from whatever he spiked you with— you rock your hips back onto eijirou, letting your cute and ravaged cunt suck more of him into your warmth and aiding him in building up a steady pace to his thrusts.

the bed starts to groan and creak beneath the force of the redhead now brutally ploughing into you— precum in fat drops smearing against your ripe and fertile walls that feel like home to his hardened length. your pussy blossoms for the man like a flower in a spring bloom, ready for the taking, ready for kirishima. only he could do this for you, teach you what seeing stars look like, drag you to cloud nine. it was the least he could do for you, and it made his dick twitch knowing that you were starting to accept him— clenching down on his mushroomed tip ever time it pulls out of you with a wet pop.

you stretch painfully over his creamy cock, though you feel like you’re on cloud nine— overwhelmed with a ravenous ecstasy that shoots from your brain to the tips of your toes, right through the heartbeat in your pussy. “feel amazin’ baby, oh that’s right, take me so fucking well,” eijirou whispers into the skin of your shoulder over sentimentally, the heat of his breath clinging to the sex in the air. his large palms drop to the globes of your ass— pulling them wide apart to spit between them and getting an enticing view of his dick lewdly plunging in and out of your perfect virgin hole. “that’s it…you like this don’t you, you like me doing this to you…”

your mind says no but you can’t help but hump back onto him, still growing used to the burning pleasure as eijirou pushes in and out of you. “y-yes eiji, i-i like it,” he barely leaves your tight heat, with the little proximity between your saltine sweat slicked bodies, prodding at that special spot inside of you that makes you gush sweet nectar.

you hope it’s the drug talking, every time you coo and cry out for the winter soldier— limp body taking the godspeed pace he moves at, filling you up each and every time. “‘h’baby, you really mean that?” metal fingers crawl up your spine, encapsulating your throat as if he can’t crush it within a second. he tugs your head back with a cool grip into a heated kiss, forcing his tongue over yours, mouths slotting together and sharing moans. “never meant for it to be like this, never gonna—fuck… cause you harm e’ver again, yeah?” kirishima’s voice rises in octave as it does in addiction, the handsome soldier succumbing to the mindbreak your gratifying, ichorous cunt had to offer him while he tucks into you.

“yeah…s’okay. o-oh! eijirou!” comes your brainless babble, your sanity falling into a cock-drunk state. eijirou’s own mind is as foggy as yours, plagued by thoughts of painting you white inside and relieving you of his burden— teaching you pleasure, teaching you sin. the slow roll of your hips back onto his mingle with the harsh slap of skin on skin, wet and crude, and hanging nastily in the air.

there’s barely any oxygen for you to breathe between it all— kirishima rhythmically squeezing at the bruised column of your throat in tune with surging hips, assaulting your poor g-spot. “jus relax baby, go’ta sleep,” you swear you think you hear him say when you grow even more light headed. “lemme take care of you.”

he had no idea your little meek mewls could drive him this far up the wall, or that he’d want you to himself even after taking your virginity. kirishima sucks on the pulse point under your ear to sedate himself, keeping you locked in place with his metal arm— licking the beads of sweat from the side of your face while his free hand wraps itself in the fabric of your sweat soaked night shirt and uses it to tug you back onto his aching, pulsating dick.

his sloppy groans echo throughout the lost purity of your bedroom, no longer a safe place— but now a reminder of how your body betrayed you, swaying in a taboo dance with the winter soldier as a crude mix of your arousals swing between both of your sore thighs. “i gotta cum baby, please lemme cum,” eijirou huffs breathily into your ear, grabbing you by the ass while he shifts to his knees and using the pure strength of the super soldier serum and his bionic arm to lift you up and down on his cock, forcing you to match his pace in frantic, hungry movements. “need to cum, need’a make it up to ya, please—oh fuckin’ fuck!”

“e-eiji!” you sob, reaching back to dick crescent moons into his fleisher arm that holds you up— letting the winter soldier fuck into you at his own will. “slow down! please!”

he shakes his head, red locks damp and sticking to his forehead as he tucks his face into the back of your shoulder. “c-can’t, need you close too. ‘m gonna cum,” he tells you, whining profligately— the ex assassin revelling in the way you drip thickly down his balls, heavy with cum, the lewd pap pap pap of your sexes moving together creating a song that echoes in the sex tainted air, matching up perfectly with your erotic choreographed routine against the sheets, tainted with your arousals. “gotta get’cha close, are you there gorgeous? that feeling in your tummy back?”

you nod, simpering out for more even though your brain is too misted to keep up with what’s happening— lust coursing through your veins with whatever drug the winter soldier has put in your system. but the feeling is barely there, and you writhe against kirishima for more…even if you hate it, even if you’re not so sure you hate it anymore.

sleeping with the man that murdered your parents.

however, you don’t need to ask for more, eijirou’s metal fingers releasing your throat and allowing you to breathe again— sliding over your clothed, pebbled nipples and down the softness of your stomach before they coldly reach your hot cunt. they toy with your swollen clit between your throbbing, puffy folds to guide you over the edge once more.

two orgasms for the two people you’d lost.

your second high of the night comes crashing over you in a sudden wave, rendering you even more weak and useless than before— you seize up, trapping kirishima inside your soaked cunt as you gush like a sweet flowing river once more. the red head follows suit, his cock pulsing while his cream lines your raw and abused walls. he doesn’t ever let up, pushing his seed further along your walls until both of you collapse into the bed with exhaustion. your hole burns, cum seeping from your entrance as you swear kirishima feels even bigger when his dick is swollen with his orgasm.

“i’m sorry,” he says hoarsely once you’ve both calmed down— but your mind is running a mile a minute, fuzzy and lagging with a combination of your high and the drugs in your system. “‘m so sorry baby,”

“it’s okay,” you whisper back, eyes fluttering with sleep again.

though you’re not sure what you’re forgiving the winter soldier for this time.

taking your parents, or taking your innocence.

1K notes · View notes

tteokdoroki · 2 years

Text

THE SINISTER SIX - a kinktober event.

wandering in the woods of questions, i followed the light in the dark.

♱ — about; when the heroes are away…the sinister six come out to play. watch your beloved protagonists trek down the twisted path of evil, transforming into six of your favourite evil-doers for this years event. join us for six fics, six saviours turned supervillains and six kinks — all selected by you.

♱ — warnings; the following pieces contain content of a dark nature with nsfw themes. each fic is tagged with its own warnings. beware of these for your own safety. minors and ageless blogs do not interact. you will be blocked.

♱ — note; join the kinktober taglist here! reblogs, comments and likes are greatly appreciated.

OCTOBER 1ST. VENOM

katsuki bakugou + monsterfucking.

♱ — additional warnings; dry humping, pegging, tentacles, overstimulation, oral sex, public sex.

OCTOBER 8TH. HADES

keigo takami + hate sex.

♱ — additional warnings; possessive sex, branding, thigh riding, marking, impact play.

OCTOBER 15TH. CRUELLA DE VIL

shouto todoroki + fearplay.

♱ — synopsis; cruella de vil cruella de vil… if he doesn’t scare you, no evil thing will. a man of shouto todoroki’s calibre finds amusement in torturing the one thing he might love more than spots… his favourite little hybrid, his most prized possession…you.

♱ — additional warnings; humiliation, edging, hybrids, pictures, stockholm syndrome, orgasm control, power play, spit kink.

OCTOBER 22ND. HARLEY QUINN

satoru gojo + weaponsplay.

♱ — synopsis; she was fearless, crazier than him and god help the poor soul who dared to cross satoru gojo’s harley quinn during her alone time with her beloved puddin’.

♱ — additional warnings; degradation, lingerie, praise, corruption, cockwarming, exhibitionism, blood play, knife play, gun play.

OCTOBER 29TH. THE WINTER SOLDIER

eijirou kirishima + non / dubcon.

♱ — additional warnings; manipulation, virginity, phallophilia, drugging, temperature play, strength kink.

OCTOBER 31ST. DEADPOOL FT. SPIDER-MAN

katsuki bakugou ft. izuku midoriya + cucking.

♱ — additional warnings; threesome, roleplay, auralism, dacryphilia, voyeurism, cum play, body worship, mask fetish.

2K notes · View notes

tteokdoroki · 2 years

Text

OCTOBER 22ND. HARLEY QUINN

“stupid bats! you're ruinin' date night!”

♱ — satoru gojo + weaponsplay.

♱ — synopsis; she was fearless, crazier than him and god help the poor soul who dared to cross satoru gojo’s harley quinn during her alone time with her beloved puddin’.

♱ —length; 5.5K

♱ — warnings; please read for your own safety! mdni, smut 18+, heavy smut, mentions of smoking, strip clubs, toji being a slimeball, degradation, lingerie, praise, corruption, cockwarming, exhibitionism, power dynamics, weapons play, gun play, knife play, blood play, clothed sex, brief daddy!kink, fem!reader, harley quinn!reader, joker!gojo. not beta read !

♱ — notes; hello again cuties!! i cant believe its the fourth fic already omg, i hope you like this one!! idk how i feel about it but i hope you guys like it at least. mwah <3 - m.list ₊ kinktober m.list ₊ taglist 𓆩♡𓆪

may god help whoever pissed you the fuck off.

behind every great man, and all the power he may have, is an equally spectacular woman.

with the exception of satoru gojo, a man who ruled almost an entire city— a man but only a few steps behind the woman he loved. you’re part of the reason he’s even made it this far, surviving under the noses and the partnerships of dirty city cops and big bad crime bosses. he did use you, his pretty little play thing— your alluring eyes, your gorgeous body, your voice that made an itch run up and down his spine.

you were really what let the notorious satoru gojo stay in control.

stay being, the feared, the gruesome, joker.

maybe the relationship you had formed through the way gojo was obsessed with your obession over him—or because of how crazy you just might be. a murderer wrapped in a dazzling, sexy fucking mystery. at this point, the lines between love and lust were far too blurred to be distinguished— maybe satoru did love you, if he left himself fall just enough. he wouldn’t let anyone else have you, not in the same way he did. you’d claimed him far before he had a chance to claim you.

if there was a target on gojo’s back, you’d have taken care of it before he even knew he was at risk of death. not that he feared it…he was the most powerful man alive, but you were like a saftey net, having you made the man feel stronger— even if you weren’t weak. in exchange for every breath he took, every moment that you’d protected him, no crime boss in the city under gojo’s rule could put their hands on you— no matter how much havoc you wreaked or lives you ruined.

truth be told, for a man who commanded so much fear, who smiled at the sight of crimson blood— gojo couldn’t seem to figure out why you didn’t run for the hills at the first sight of him. but perhaps in the time you’d spent trying to fix the broken dancer in his jewellery box head, maybe he’d broken you down too and made you just like him. fearless and crazier than him.

“puddin’,” you drawl, dainty fingers trained to kill twirl a lock of gojo’s white hair between them. “‘m mad at’cha.”

you’d come to one of gojo’s clubs for the night— the weight of a business deal clinging to the sweaty air as bodies on bodies grinded and slid against one another. your role tonight, was to play consolation prize-on-a-strip-pole for the client, toji fushiguro. your man wanted his hands on that man’s money. the money he owed gojo, it was kinda funny, the loan toji had taken never even touched his son; and after that night the kid would probably never see his father again. gojo’d take his money and blow his brains out.

but that wasn’t a price high enough for the way the other man had touched you tonight, his scummy fingers nothing like the man you adored’s pulling at parts of you where your pretty baby doll blue lingerie showed the slightest slither of skin. you’d dressed like this for satoru only, glossed lips drawn into a heavy spout when he’d whistled you over to dance for his client.

it was clear you weren’t in any mood to toy with toji before his inevitable last moments while gojo talked his ear off about percentages and loans fushiguro’s was too dumb to understand. still, you did what your lover asked of you— desperate for ocean eyes to trace down the pearls and pretty lace that moulded to fit the curve of your breasts, the gems that glimmered and dangled just over your skimpy panties whenever you shook or twirled or bent over filthy toji fushiguro’s lap ( his obvious boner prodding into your bare thighs as you worked ).

of course the sight only served to rile gojo up, a cool fire in his heart spreading through his veins like his blood was gasoline whenever you giggled at toji’s half assed compliments. you were only ever meant to smile for satoru, to be this giddy over the strings of words that barely gave you the time of day. he was jealous, yes— unbelievably so but you both had a job to do.

that was until toji unceremoniously cups your covered cunt with a sleazy hand and asks satoru if “this pretty hunk of meat can be loaned as well.”

you lose your cool before gojo does and before anyone knows it, the knife concealed in your dainty baby blue garter belt is lodged deep enough into toji's hand, that it makes the grown man cry.

the reaction was perfectly within your right; bloodlust curling around the dilated pupil in your eye— but gojo had given you the cold shoulder ( no pun intended ) for supposedly messing up his deal— even though you’d done all of this for him. dressed pretty and danced all for him. you’re pissed, rightfully so, and drag your man by the tie into his back office, forcing him down onto the couch to take a seat and learn his lesson.

no one turns their back on you.

and that brings you both to now, blood red lipstick smeared along gojo’s silver moon skin— dragged up his jawline and right under his ear. the crime boss is a little high, running on the fumes of the party roaring outside while intoxicated with liquid lust and obsession directed towards you. his hands roam your blistering hot body, lips on yours despite the plasticky taste of fenty product glossing your own. he misses the metallic, binding down on the pink stained flesh to draw blood— groaning into your mouth as it lingers on his tongue before satoru forces it down your throat.

there are still people who work here in the room, either stuck in their places not knowing where to look or casting their gazes elsewhere as the two of you make out. “get the fuck out,” gojo hisses when he finally comes up for air, though his brain is fizzing like popping candy and he can’t quite think straight without his mind running right back to you. “d’aw… you mad at me princess?” his voice is strained in the base of his throat, since somewhere in the mix of sloppy kisses you’ve ripped through tight dress pants, slid your glistening baby blue panties to the side and have slid yourself down onto gojo’s pulsating cock, keeping it tucked away in your warmth.

even you’re out of breath, chest heaving as you adjust around the lengthy stretch of satoru gojo. “i dressed all pretty for you,” you state, ribbed walls kissing the fat blue vein that wrap around gojo. you drop down his balls, happy to take him into your walls. “and this,” you clench, sending a ripple of desire through the man at your mercy. “this is the thanks i get?” you look down at the silver haired crime boss, hair dishevelled and out of place, through your doe eyes and push your hands into his chest. “men are so useless puddin’.”

your hips peel from gojo’s clothed thighs, a sticky slap resounding in the back room when you thrust back down— watching your man splutter, reaching up to your chest to toy with the flimsy lace around your breasts. “fuck princess,” he heaves in a murky breath, nails digging into your soft mounds. “y’so right, ‘m useless. fucking useless.”

it’s illegal how warm and wet you are, gojo’s sensitive tip nudging against your silken walls as they ripple around him and you cockwarm him. there’s got to be some sort of criminal charge for this, one that’ll keep him locked up in your tightness for all of eternity. “want it off.” he demands, slender fingers poking underneath the material of your bra. “take it off baby, lemme see.” just as ice cold and ringed fingers brush over your nipples, the crime boss thrusts up into you— delirious with addiction and lust, sapphire eyes lost in the abyss of his skull just from feeling you.

“don’t think ya deserve it, mista ‘g!” with your eyes bright and crazed, you mock gojo, keeping yourself seated in his lap as he thrusts up into you again, working his hips into a steady rhythm— enough for the sound of his balls tapping against your ass to echo throughout the room accompanied by light breaths of exertion.

he’s in deep, tip brushing your gummy walls and satoru knows you’ll break soon, he can feel it in the shirt of your hips and how you suck him down nice and wetly. “c’mon baby, c’mon,” the man coos, looking up at you with big blue eyes— their silvering flecks begging you for mercy as if you’re a god. “you know you want it, that you can take it. you wanna be fucked so good, i know princess. let me take care of you.” a large hand reaches around the chub of your pretty hips, fingers spread over the expanse of your soft tummy to dip just over your folds, the finger tips brushing against your swelling clit from over the hole in your lingerie.

you tremble, sensitive and gojo’s eyes light up. “atta girl, give into daddy, lemme have you…” the man’s words are so softly spoken for someone who lives off the sound of screaming victims. “oh princess, ya hear that?” his blunt nails, blood caked underneath them sink into the globes of your ass— holding you just above his lap so you can listen to the lewd, squelch of your sex as he slips in and out of you with every slow roll of hips up into you, creamy strings of your arousal clinging to the blue forked veins decorating his cock. “that’s how much you need me, listen to that. you need me.”

satoru feeds you sweet lies that keeps you under his spell— keeps you under his possession and drowns you with obsession. he keeps you pacified with a lazy bump and grind, barely giving you a second to breathe or think outside of the way he fucks up into you just right. there’s a hand on the back of your neck that keeps you anchored down to your puddin’, your lips parted as gojo coaxes you into his realm of bloody sin and breathes desire into youropen mouth. the way you move with one another, sensual sticky grinds is a dance routine that only lovers know— fingertips and wandering hands alike able to touch and prod and pinch at the sensitive spots you’ve discovered on one another.

“fuck, ‘toru,” your whimper betrays your, just like your body does— you’re supposed to be mad at him, using him but your frame shakes and blossoms under satoru’s touch, blood coursing through your veins as it’s dotted with hormones of lust, stinging at your clit. “son of’a bitch,” is all you can manage when satoru’s lips attach to the valley between your bouncing breasts from over your clothes, sucking a mark into the gap with his tongue rolling saliva over the abused area. he gets you fucked up and dizzy on lust as if it were a drug— looking up at you with hooded sapphire eyes, clinging onto the reaction of his mouth working wonders across your hot flesh.

the crime boss abandons the cliffs of your collarbones, sloppily kissing down to your pebbled nipples as you grind down on his aching dick, back and forth and matching satoru’s toe curling pace— barely pulling out of your selfish little hole, dripping with liquid gold, adding a shine to his thighs under the dingy back light of his club and a wetness to your clothes. every stroke of his dick within the depths of your silken, ribbed walls earns you a lap from the tip of his tongue around your budding nipples and the same action rewards satoru with your arching back and a muffled whine.

“use me,” gojo let’s go of your saliva soaked breast with pop, before he near pleads as if he’s in court and insanity is the alibi to excuse all of his crimes— aching to be locked away in your pulsating warmth for all of time. there’s spit on his lips and chin, a fresh red tint glowing under his pale skin with the heat of his blood blush as he thrusts up and barely pulls back from the heaven between your thighs.

“wonderin’ how pretty you’ll look coming undone in this pretty little get up f’me, princess,” he pants, gaze dropping and fascinated by his milky cock disappearing into your fat pussy. “got all my attention now, don’t gotta fight someone over me— fuck,” drawling out his words, the man uses slender fingers to spread your netherlips apart, showing of the glaze of your arousal as it coats him to his hungry eyes.

he’s a powerfully pathetic man beneath you, grinding up against your salacious insides— jamming into your g-spot, and it makes you mad, it frustrates you how good gojo is able to make you feel even when he’s wounded your heart.

“use me baby, come on. work those pretty little hips, make yourself feel good.” satoru’s cheeks flush a pretty pink; tongue soaked in his own spit as he glances up at you once more— panting like a wet, dirty dog and fucking up into you to his hearts content. using you for his own pleasure even after how he treated you today. you look so good like this, fuck, and gojo thinks about how lucky he is to have a girl like you want a man like him— no one else gets to watch strings of drool break away from the roof of your mouth each time you moan, no one else has pleasure of brutally jackhammering into you, letting you adjust to the stretch of him all up against you.

bouncing in your lover’s lap, you clench down hard until there’s a hiccup in the way he pounds at your puffy mound, and he chokes on a deep whine, blue eyes flickering down to where he pulls himself inside of you.. “really, mista g?” you sigh dreamily, hearts dotted like sparkles in your eyes as you cup his cheeks with one hand to keep his gaze on you and yanking the gun from the holster on his taut waist at the same time. “you really are so pathetic puddin’,”

those same slender fingers on one of his large hands have bruising grip on your waist— the shape of satoru’s fingertips indented into your supple, blemished flesh before he lets go to flip a switch blade against your throat. “being in love with you makes me pathetic, angel?” there’s a gasp that lies wet on the seam of gojo’s lips, shaky as he peels his sweaty thighs away from yours and tugs his cock from your snugness of your oozing cunt before cantering forward and shoving it right up into your womb. the force makes both of you drool, the knife against your throat just nicking your smooth skin and your finger jumps to find the trigger of your gun.

“go ahead, shoot me.” he goads your through gritted teeth, eyes bright with adrenaline and temptation. so you press the barrel of you weapon against the crime boss’ shining forehead and between moonlight coloured locks, letting satoru pacify himself with licking the trail of crimson dripping from your neck in the meantime. blood should be freezing in his veins, not the temperate prickle of euphoria slipping through his veins. you’re a killer, and that excites him, who knows what you’ll do to gojo if given the chance… if you didn’t love him like this. “dead or alive, this pussy’s mine. you’re mine. i’m yours.”

you can hear the desperation caught in the ridges of gojo’s voice while he rocks himself into you feverishly, chest heaving as his pace turns erratic with excitement— and you’re the same, blood rushing through your your body carrying a stream of sex hormones and dopamine. “yeah?” you tilt your head with a sinister murmur, licking the salt from your lips, a murderously obsessed glint in your eye. “you’re mine, puddin’,”

maybe you’re crazy; but that doesn’t matter to satoru, not when his heart beats hard against his rib cage in anticipation. “filthy fucking boy,” you simper. “i could kill you and you’d still be cumming like a dirty slut, huh puddin’?” if he really were to die here, he’d be happy, covered in everything that is you, stuffed inside the woman he loves.

then, you pull the trigger, doe eyes closed adrenaline ceasing your pulse for just a second and—

click. the gun doesn’t go off.

the sick smile gojo gives you is enough to cloud your brain, make you dizzier as he leans upwards to catch your lips in a messy, sloppy kiss— tongue pressing into your mouth, transferring the taste of iron onto your own. “see baby,” he spits along the seam of your mouth, connecting you by saliva there and by fat beads of precum between your sore thighs. gojo’s cock practically fights your selfish pussy to pull out, digging into your g-spot as you fall into a tune of creamy, sensual sex. the blade is still ice cold between your bodies, the man grazing the tip down your middle, over the swell of your meaty thighs… breaking skin shallowly as gojo draws shapes of love, hearts and his name over the tops of them.

the red blood liquid seeps between your legs, leaking from your fresh wounds, joining the slick at clings to your sexes. “does that hurt good angel, can i cut you up some more?” gojo is close to losing it over the mess where your bodies join, getting dizzy, wanting to pull more juices and whines from your pussy and sweet lips.

“shut up, toru,” but you pay no mind to the slight sting as if you’re used to it and you’re wistful when you look at him again, tears caught in your lashes despite how estatic you are. “you trust me?” gojo watches you squeal, leaning back in his seat as you pull your ass off of him, squeezing down on his creamy tip and overwhelming each one of his senses— blue eyes sent back into his skull.

“mhm baby…with my life,” he slurs avidly, sounding like he’s barely there, clinging onto his existence for the ecstasy you have gojo in is driving him off of the walls. satoru pushes his head up against the barrel still in his face, with glinting eyes, keeping it there before he flops back against the couch, you nestle yourself on his chest— practically pounding yourself down on the curve of his girth, drooling honey down his shaft, juices catching on the purpling veins there. how can you not know? you are gojo’s life.

a jack of all trades, his ace… his lucky fixation.

there’s a knock at the door, barely heard over the chorus of skin slapping on skin, the pap of your swollen mound while the crime boss churns up your insides until he’s in heaven. everything is so obscene, unholy sounds from your precious parts

tingling passionately in the air between you due to the crude mix of your bodily fluids. “well ya shouldn’t,” you growl with a bright blood lust in your veins, cocking your gun again. there’s no hesitation in your next moves, putting a bullet in the leg of the person entering only to disrupt you both with practiced ease. “‘m dangerous, honey.”

the intruder hits the ground with a dull thud, which goes unheard under the sound of skin clapping against skin with no rhyme or rhythm— delirious and delectable moans bouncing off the walls.

seeing you effortlessly threaten someone’s life makes gojo’s dick throb deliciously inside of you. “don’t care angel. i’d let’cha fuck me up real pretty,” he laments dreamily over the weight of saliva pooling on his tongue, gaze honed in on where your bodies join, obsessing with how your puffy clit sticks to his pelvis every time he pulls out of your slick slit. “do anything you fucking want to me—“

with a roll of your eyes— you drag the gun back between your sex craved bodies and nudge it past satoru’s glossed lips, forcing it deeper into his mouth until it his uvula. “shut up, baby, ya talk way too much.” your voice is sweet, like honey running through the man’s ears but your expression is crazed, rabid as if hurting satoru only serves to turn you on more. or maybe it’s seeing a man so powerful, so feared just like him, sucking on a gun like he’s taking a cock down his throat— so obedient for someone so used to control. his pink tongue darts out to roll across the weapon, cool in gojo’s mouth despite how hot the air between your grinding, sweat slicked bodies pressed against one another. “you take it like a bitch, i know you can do better.”

letting your head roll to the side, you thrust the gun deep into the hazy heat of satoru’s mouth in tune with your hips slamming down on his aching dick— plunging him as deep as he can go, as much as he can take without passing out on you. “you’re such a mess toru, s’embarrasing h-how much you want this,” you grin, somewhat sadistic, pussy gripping the man for dear life— despite the crude mix of arousal that lets you slide up and down his length so easily. “big bad satoru. mista g. the joker… swallowing down my gun like s’my cock.” you giggle, the condescending tone of your words has gojo’s mind spinning, pushing whatever leaks from his tip further into your puckered hole.

gojo stubbles forward, gagging on the gun, coating it in his spit with his sapphire eyes crossed with a pink flush to his cheeks. “that’s it puddin’, fuck it.” you coo, hazy and impressed before you let your perfectly manicured finger slip over the trigger once more. “fuck me, this gun. like ya mean it, kay?”

he’d do whatever you want if you asked him to, he’d rip stars from the sky— burn cities to ashes, line everyone who’s ever hurt you or lead you to this fucked up life on their knees and kill them off one by one if you needed him too. there wasn’t a person or thing that could stop gojo’s heart from following after your every move, keeping you by his side for all of time.

keeping you stuffed full on his cock, your pussy frothing a bubbly white. between ravaging and feverish thrusts, the crime boss swipes a thumb over your pleasure nub, writing his name in calculated circles over it and smoothing obtuse globs of precum into it too. gojo barely flinches when the gun clicks with an empty shot, hardly breathing with his throat constricting around the barrel at your doing.

liquid lust oozes down his balls as you pull the weapon from his mouth— watching the string of saliva that connects satoru to it. “s’kinda disgustin’ puddin’,” rolling your hips tantalisingly, you wrap your arms around gojo’s head to hug him to your chest in comfort— smiling as he gasps for air desperately. “how much you’d so f’me, you’re a mess.”

“i love you,” satoru counters, trembling against your bosom, white ( though not pure ) hair sticking to your blistering skin. now it’s his turn. he whips his blade out once more; tearing through the sleeves of your pretty lingerie, making sure to pound you until his seed marks your insides and your swollen lips form that nice o-shape you make when you’re falling apart from pleasure. “told you angel, i’d do anything for you.” you gasp at the cold air hitting your skin, then mewl like a fucking pornstar at gojo’s mouth on your breast again— taking your puffy nipples between his teeth and rolling them. “make you feel good, make you see fuckin’ stars.” he looks up at you, so unlike the cool and collected mob boss he usually is and instead, a puppy desperate for your approval.

“if y-you’re that obsessed with m-me,” you squeal, wringing your hands in moonlight locks, every push and pull of satoru’s wet cock sending orgasmic shocks through his system. “then make me cum, s'humiliating how you haven’t yet, can’t you do anythin’. make yourself useful—“

the man doesn’t respond, using one hand to grab the fat at your ass to pull you up and down on him, holding you up so he can fuck you fast and hard— pressing close to your cervix while you gush like a river, face tingling with heat. “keep talkin’ like that baby,” he pleads, almost begging you for more…talking down on him only motivates satoru more, only makes him want to fuck you until he feels like he deserves the honour of bathing his dick in your juices. “makes me so fucking hard for you,”

spinning the blade between his fingers on the other hand, he lets it cut into your flesh with careful affection at your collarbones— growling into the skin on your chest with a trail of sloppy kisses, fixated on the droplets of ruby that ooze from your new wound. his eager tongue slips over it, sucking on the taste of your iron blood, moaning at the taboo flavour. “fuck ‘toru, fuck me good. y’can do better than this,” though he claws at your round ass to hold you in place, balls heavy with cum drumming against the peachy flesh, satoru slips out from just how fast he’s trying to pound you. “s’much cock ‘n ya don’t even know how t’fuckin’ use it.”

useless, he’s so fucking useless and he can barely breathe— using his hold on you to drag your sloppy pussy over his cockhead, struggling to slip it back into with how shaky you both are. close to the edge, close to falling apart. “work with me angel, lemme fuck you again. lemme in, want this angel cunt so bad. adore it.” satoru pleads, bulbous and red tip prodding at your entrance with desire brewing heavy between you both in the sex tainted air. the couch breaks beneath you with the weight of your bump and grind, smearing precum and blood about the place.

“that’s it… oh fuck me, open up f’me angel, pussy so good, you’re so fucking good to me,” the man drawls; listening to the way your pussy peels away from his soaked thighs with a sticky noise as he tries to sink back into your ribbed, silken walls. gojo flips the knife between hands, carving shapes of love into your blemished, soft skin. a heart against your ass, his initials under your breast— whatever you allow him to do, blood soiling through the pale blue of your darling outfit. and fuck if the crimson colour doesn’t make you shine. “s-shit! there we fuckin’ go.”

like a fallen angel, carrying the sins of satoru gojo’s crimes on tone blood soaked wings.

using two fingers, you gather the nasty mix of your mixed arousals and the droplets of your blood— pushing the digits into the crime boss’ mouth and pressing down on his tongue. “y’talk so much shit for someone who can barely make a girl cum, puddin’,” you stutter out, tail end of your words falling into a high pitched moan as gojo fills you up once more in one fail swoop. he bullies his way right up to your womb— clit grinding against your lover’s hip bone painted with your sweet scented juices. “oh baby, r-right there!” you exclaim, but the crime lord can’t tell if it’s from you being so full once more, or because of the cute heart he carves into your inner thigh.

but no matter how much you keep up the act, gojo knows your body like the back of his hand— he knows what you like, how you adore his tongue running between your two fingers like he’s slurping on your puffy folds, nudging it’s pink tip over your darling clit. you shove your digits deeper, lifting and dropping your abused, raw cunt down on the man like your life depends on it— light headed from blood loss and desire. satoru’s cockhead burns past your entrance in tune with your fingers in his mouth, sucking the taste of iron and honey from them— soaking himself in your warmth before he slams up into you.

he only lets you ruin him and his image because he loves you, because he can’t stand to picture you with another man like toji— because being a man of his calibre he knows that he needs to be brought down a notch. “you’re so pretty,” gojo heaves, building up the momentum inside you— pushing himself so deep that he brushes your cervix and the springs in the couch start to break. “don’t know what i was thinking lettin’ toji touch you. you’re so pretty, down here too— fuck!” he groans deep, when your fingers leave his mouth. his jaw is sore but he’s too fucked out to care.

the both of you are in a daze, and satoru is so sweet unlike his usual cruel self— blissed out beneath you. “am i pretty enough to die for, puddin’?” you ask him through ragged breaths— throwing your head back as gojo leans forward with a craving for the salt on your skin, licking a trail through the red that stains between your breaths. the lewd sucking bounces off the walls, harmonising with the squelch of your pussy that squirts copious amounts of nectar every time his balls clap against you. somehow, through the maze of your limbs you grab at the discarded gun and point it to the back of your skull— pressing your forehead against your lover’s. “are you scared baby? worried i might kill is both.”

gojo doesn’t fear death.

and of course you are— but gojo can’t find it in himself to answer you just yet; since your body jerks with stimulation and your cunt flutters around him, acting as the tell tale signs that your orgasm is approaching. he surges forward, sinful mouth locking with yours in a slow kiss— teeth and tongue clashing, his canines sinking into your lower lip enough to draw blood.

“angel… please,” gojo’s hips stutter, his heart rate skyrocketing, cock white with the creamy ring your pussy froths at the base. “please..” he loses his grip on the switch blade, the frosty feeling metal nestled between your throats, pressed up against vital veins and pressing into your skin just enough to draw more blood.

“c’mon mista ‘g? why so serious? smile a little,” you say hoarsely— forcing the man to grin with your fingers pulling at the corners of his bloody lips. “smile ‘n answer for me, my little joker. would you die for me?” you’re choking out his cock, milking it for dear life and threatening to put a bullet through both of your skulls and satoru gojo’s never been more turned on by it— sprinting towards his high.

he tears up, nodding his head, dropping his weapon to wrap his arms around your waist while pulling you down onto his cock and keeping you there— barely letting you off of it.

“i’d die for you; a million times over.”

and for the last time that night, you pull the trigger.

and again, it’s another blank.

fear and adrenaline sparks at your mind, only heightening the sensitivity of your bodies close to orgasm… and that’s all it takes to throw both of you over the edge, falling a limp mess of blood, cum and spit, smoke and knife wounds in one another’s arms as white flashes behind your eyes. the knots in your stomach snap, sloppy cunt streaming clear with your release as a loud, dirty moan tears in the ridges of your throat. “p-puddin’! s-satoru!” you cry out sinfully, and gojo follows suit, losing his words and all ties to any form of sanity.

“f-fuck angel, gonna cum. gonna finally fucking fill you up, just how you want— gonna be useful.” satoru mumbles, spilling into you as you squirm in his lap during your own comedown. “c-cummin’! fucking hell.” his seed coats your inner walls with thick white, so much of him flooding your womb that he’s forced out of you, smearing the rest of the opaque, viscous seed against your sore and fleshy thighs.

still releasing in spurts, satoru pulls out from your heat— both of you sighing in content while his cum pools in your tiny hole, his tip nudging against the heart on your inner, leaking against it sweetly. “i love you puddin’,” gojo hears you mumble over the static in his brain, your voice drowsy and sweet. “you’re mine, kay? no one else can have me but you.”

and just like you say, every little bit of the man is yours— because no matter who marks who, satoru gojo would put his life on the line for you no matter the situation.

it was his innate will, part and parcel of his obsession with you.

for who was the joker, without his harley quinn.

780 notes · View notes

tteokdoroki · 2 years

Text

OCTOBER 15TH. CRUELLA DE VIL

“i live for fur, i worship fur. after all, is there a woman in all this wretched world who doesn't?.”

♱ — shouto todoroki + fearplay.

♱ —length; 5.9K

♱ — warnings; please read for your own safety! mdni, smut 18+, heavy smut, characters aged up to 20s, mentions of smoking, cigarette burns, dry humping, shoe humping, stockholm syndrome, orgasm control, fear play, power play, clothed sex, blowjobs, oral sex ( m!receiving ), humiliation, edging, pictures, spit!kink, fem!reader, hybrid!reader, cruella de vil!todoroki. not beta read !

♱ — notes; beep boop !! happy sinister saturday my angels, this week we have one of my faves, cruella de vil 'n shou so i hope you enjoy!! i'm so excited to share this one with you <3 - m.list ₊ kinktober m.list ₊ taglist 𓆩♡𓆪

there is always work to be done when achieving perfectionism

discipline and obedience were two very important lessons shouto todoroki had learned early on in life.

though raised with a silver spoon perched between his perfect lips— the man, like any other who has walked this earth, has had his fair share of struggles too. enji todoroki was a man who believed in perfectionism…only achieved by hard work. discipline. obedience.

his father was unrelenting in making sure shouto knew what those words meant, raised up to take over the family business out of the three other siblings in his brood. he was neglected and unloved— but taught lessons on how to manage, make money, to speak when spoken to and listen when required to. shouto was malleable, easily trained back then, worked hard to please his father and all the companies to the family name until his light broke. until he’d had enough.

with uniquely split peppermint hair he’d managed to escape into the shadows with a sum of hush money as though not to spill the evil secrets of his upbringing— shouto had kept his lessons of obedience and discipline in mind. the money he would use as a start up, rationed into portions for rent, food and materials for the clothes he’d designed. someday hoping to make a man out of himself, and sell them to the world.

todoroki wanted to be seen by people, for his designs to reach and touch the hearts of people across the country and maybe even the world— but to do so he had to be obedient, taking an entry level job at a department store that sold high fashion ( of course under a different name…the name cruella, shouto would start from the bottom and make his own way up— he wouldn’t be attached to the cruelty of his childhood ). names of dior, gucci and valentino… burberry, celine, christopher wang flashed in front of his mismatched eyes over tills on a daily basis— pearls and diamonds he’d never seen or heard of were favoured among customers in the store. he aspired to be like them, become a household name.

to be recognised for his efforts in the world of fashion he would have to work hard, make his way up the ranks to afford furs and chiffons for the goes he had designed—stacked up on napkins and parchment paper, whatever he can find, discarded around his shitty little one bed studio. todoroki sells his first piece into a winter collection after months of cold calling and door knocking towards big owners of major stores.

success, comes with discipline, feigning obedience.

and shouto todoroki knows that he’s finally made it when the calls come flooding into his quiet, dingy london apartment looking for hints in whether or not he’s designed a spring collection.

of course he had, years in advance.

and that brings us to today, where there’s corporate buildings across the world with his alias spelled out in big red and white letters across the front, filled with passionate designers and models and all sorts of staff. there are billboards at every corner plastered with teasers for todoroki’s upcoming fashion show, he’s been on the cover of all editions of vogue at one point or another— he’s built himself off of the ground.

starting with obedience and discipline and mixed with a hint of dedication.

perhaps todoroki should thank his father for not showing he and his siblings any compassion while they were growing up, for the fearful lessons he instilled in them— but then again, it was the dual haired man who’d made a righteous name out of the syllables of his last, who became a pioneer and spearhead to the fashion industry…not poor old enji. poor poor enji, there’s not a dime to his name these days, shouto and touya had made sure of that by selling their childhood trauma to the media.

shouto made millions which he put towards his fashion company, touya has his band, fuyumi her family comfortably nestled up in some uptight gated community and natsuou wrote a book. they had all utilised what they’d been taught, to make money and to speak when spoken to ( promoted by press to speak on their upbringing of course ).

shouto todoroki is now loved by many, a peppermint haired boy estranged from his family putting himself and his designs in bright colours and elaborate patterns contrasting of his cool, and clipped self out there into the industry. and perhaps it was a cruel move on shouto’s part, but he didn’t care. dear old daddy would have to suffer for raising a son just like him. for acquiescence and regimen breeds rebels, and in excessive amounts, gives birth to bad…bad people.

he is loved, he is bad, but he is free— his ego kissed and stroked by all of those around him, who don’t know the true him. and cruella, or shouto is sure if people knew how bad he truly was behind the smoke screen of his brilliance, then his career wouldn’t quite be the same as it were now.

even though the peppermint haired designer loves his job and his work more than anything— a work life balance was also important to him too, to let the day’s stresses flood from his body was a priority. it was hard to keep the cruelty that danced around in his blood stream at bay while todoroki flittered throughout his offices and approved fabrics or threads…he needed an outlet, a reliever to tuck shouto todoroki away and let cruella come out to play.

as soon as the designer finds himself within his expensive apartment complex— his Chelsey boots clicking against the white glossed marble flooring, he’s swarmed by eager staff that welcome him home. bright eyes full of admiration tracing his outline, puffy cream fur coat, as he cascades through the reception without a care in the world. “afta’noon mister todoroki— i-i mean cruella!” the doorman had greeted him with a bobbing Adam’s apple and polite smile. “a pleasure ta welcome ya back!”

with his diamond lined eyes narrowed, todoroki let the corners of his pretty lips twitch up into a soft, smug grin. “the pleasure is all mine, darling.” he’d replied pompously as he made a b-line for the elevator. there’s confidence in every movement he makes and a bristling frost on every surface he touches as he steps straight from the elevator into his own luxury penthouse apartment, greeted by staff that shiver in his presence when he enters his home.

“mister todoroki,” staff bob their heads in respect, like they’re serving a king which they might as well be. he holds power over everyone who gets a chance to witness him speak, have the honour of seeing him at work. a king in the world of fashion.

todoroki’s boots continue to click and clack the further he explores the penthouse with high swooping ceilings and glass windows about the place—letting the cool night and all it’s stars pour in, illuminating the room accompanied by that of the moon. the white light shines in winter tones through paper scattered about the place, scrapped designs, those that’ll make the cut and some saved for future opportunities like the met gala look a celebrity has requested from him for next year. animal prints are thrown over the backs modern day architecture and chairs— the striped ones are often hidden.

shouto much prefers the perfect simplicity of spots.

they’re his favourite, round…infinite… never ending. the promise of forever is embodied in a perfect spot.

there’s a reason why he has a framed portrait of his most beloved design— a real fur coat, made entirely of spots.

is there anything more precious than something so simple and beautifully designed by nature? this is a question todoroki finds himself asking almost everyone night when he returns home from work, from being adored by people who do nothing but put pennies in his bank account— without even knowing the real him. but then he comes to stand in front of a special locked door, to which he holds the only key, he finds the answer, he smells it hanging in the air of the room as he unlocked it, pushing open the door and tasting the scent of you.

you are the most precious creation known to mankind.

knocking the heels of his pointed boots together, todoroki watches as spotted black and white dalmation ears peek out from deeper in the room, barely visible over the edge of the comfortable leather couch installed into your playroom. they hang over your darling face in shame— you know what you’ve done, and a wicked chill seeps from his bones into the air around you once he notices your dainty tail no longer swishing behind you but instead tucked between your thighs… no doubt slicked up with an orgasm you know you weren’t allowed to have.

he knows, that you know, you’ve done the unthinkable— the punishable, topaz and granite eyes glossing over with a frightening level of disappointment, lips quirking up in satisfaction when you quiver like a leaf in the wind and a puppy whine sits cutely in the ridges of your throat. you’re not to touch what doesn’t belong to you, you know that.

“there you are, pet.” cruella, shouto cocks his head to the side, speaking with his tone tilting into condescending as if he’s looking down on you. he is, clicking his heels together again but three times in order to command you to sit once you reach him. “have you been good?” a scarily sunshine smile sits heavy on the peppermint haired designer’s face, gaze flickering down to where your hips don’t fully touch the floor— no doubt avoiding contact with your swollen, dirty clit. sticky, probably, with a release you shouldn’t have had. “i don’t think you have.”

he pulls a thick, long, thin red and white smoke stick from the left inside pocket of his tailored suit— crouching down to your height and uses the death stick to tilt your stare up from the black leather of his boots to his steeled pair of eyes. “pet?” over the tobacco scent hanging between you both, todoroki catches a whiff of your arousal, a touch of perfume smelling like your instinctual fear… he sees it bright in the pretty flecks in your eyes, dancing around like candles flickering in the wind. it’s a beautiful sight, seeing you scared. he loves it, he thinks—nudging your cheek a little more. “answer me.”

you flinch back at the harsher tone he uses, the one that makes your skin crawl and you immediately lower your head in an obedience that comes with much training. “‘m sorry,” you say in one hesitated breath, shutting away those darling eyes when shouto drags a thumb over your bottom lip after popping the smoke stick between his own. you lean into him, slightly, foolishly trusting the man with your life. “‘m sorry… i am. r-really, i am—“

you’ve always been meek, todoroki knows that. he’d picked you up from a rundown pound after a hit of inspiration— a whole collection he’d design based off of black and white spots. it had been hard sourcing an amount of Dalmatian hybrids that large— especially after his flimsy childhood friend deku darling and his clumsy pianist partner eijirou had rejected his proposal to take their lot off their hands. they didn’t like the idea of him using real fur, real spots to make a work of art.

out of the bunch he’d brought, shouto kept you. the little pup who cowered in the corner, kept out of sight and out of mind. so instead of turning you into a purse or pair of boots or the fluffy fur coat he’d dreamed of… todoroki kept you, because you were most afraid of him, like you’d soil yourself or cry if the devil popped up to say hello— you didn’t love him, or pretend to at first. you were as real as could be, you didn’t fake it just to be near shouto.

you were perfect.

“c’mon pet, sit with me.” standing to his full height, looming over you— shouto hooks two fingers under your collar, the one he had custom made for you in his colours of red and white, dragging you over to the couch placed in the centre of the room. the leather digs into your skin, your eyes bulging at the lack of aid which fizzles across your empty little brain. “did you miss me, today?”

you sit back on your haunches when todoroki sinks into the couch, your teary eyes instantly and obediently shooting down to his half-hard cock as he man-spreads in his seat. fear breeds obedience, the more scared you are the easier it had been for shouto to train you to behave how he wanted, to be used how he wanted.

nodding, you whine and shouto tuts in disapproval.

“your words, darling.”

“i d-did, i missed you s-shouto!” you perk up a little too quickly at the pet name, smaller-than-his hands resting on the swell of the designer’s thigh before your ears flatten back as if you know that you’ve made a mistake, leaning your baby fat cheek on his leg in hopes of making an apology. “i-i mean sir!”

“what a good girl you are.”

shouto leers down at you, his eyes glinting with iniquity— the glistening gem colours darkening as if raging stormy clouds had blocked out the sun. he reaches out to pet you, and though you wince it’s easy for you to keen into his touch at the slightest hint of praise. “is that why you touched yourself while i was away?” he tilts his head, lips in a faux but cold pout as you simper out for him. “i can smell it on you, you filthy little mutt, soaked on your skin, slicked up on those precious fucking thighs.” suddenly, he grips your puppy dog ears, and the wag of your excited tail slows to a stop. “you disappoint me. you couldn’t even wait until i returned home. for you.”

for you.

only when your eyes brim with apologetic and fat tears, does shouto let go of your sore spotted ear�� amused in how you sniffle, frozen in your place by fear. but there’s love in his eyes too, taking the form of heart shaped pupils as his gaze hones in on your messy, teary state. there should be hate blooming in your chest instead of love and yearning. this is the man that took you from your family; saw you as nothing more than fabric between stitches and buttons every time you whined and called out for the pups in your litter.

tapping his food against the floor again, shouto commands your attention. “i’ve worked so hard to keep you safe, pet, you know that’s why i work so hard,” one hand guides yours to the bulge between your owner’s thighs while the other brushes over the pink curve of your bottom lip. “designing and designing…” he pulls you up close, hunching over you at the same so that you’re a breath’s width apart.

your breathing is ragged, chest heaving in anticipation as shouto parts his lips— letting a clear, heavy wad of drool drip from his mouth onto the palette of your eager puppy tongue.

“do you know what i made?”

the question barely registers in your mind as you swallow a haziness of lust taking over— clouding your eyes and a hunger to please clawing it’s way up your throat. “nuh-uh,” you say breathlessly, tilting your head up for more, earning another glob of spit on your tongue. your tiny little hand starts to move on it’s own accord, pawing back and forth, back and forth against your owner’s dress pants. your tail picks up again, adorably swishing from side to side feeling shouto throb beneath your talented little fingertips— blood pulsing through his clothed girth.

“do i have to tell you again, pet? use your words.” todoroki relents, taking your lip between his teeth— taunting you, nearly kissing you but not quite because he knows how much you need it. he knows that if he keeps you on the blurred line between pain and pleasure, fear and felicity…you’ll behave accordingly, become easily malleable into the perfect pet.

“i-i’m not sure, sir.”

“spots.”

it’s so adorable how you go rigid, turning to stone though your heart beats in your chest and your hand rubs harder, greedier at the hard on growing beneath shouto’s expensive clothes. your eyes continue to sparkle too, with desperation to take his cock deep into your salivating mouth, pink tongue rolling out like a puppy in the wind. he sees the way your thighs stick together, grazing one another as your hole slicks itself up— ready for the taking. if he could bend you over, pull your ass cheeks apart, todoroki has no doubt that your little wagging tail would be covered in strings of your potent arousal, oozing in thick waves from your spasming puppy cunt.

he knows this for a fact, not only because hybrids like yourself are wetter, messier to aid the breeding process, but because you love being scared just as much as you so pathetically adore todoroki. you enjoy the flicker of your brain between fight or flight, how he makes your blood run cold or threatens your life as if it hangs in the balance.

mistakenly, you love shouto todoroki— and you think he might feel the same about you. you think if you behave and perform tricks, if you’re obedient just like he had taught you to be..that he might keep you safe. cherish you.

maybe that’s all true, maybe cruella isn’t so cruel. maybe he finds it in his ice laden heart to care for you just a bit… and not just because you’re a cute little pup trained to suck his pretty dick.

“i’m thinking of making another fur coat,” a wicked chuckle rumbles the designers throat like thunder in a storm, only interrupted by his hips that shoot up to grind into your hesitating hand— the one that feels out the lengthy shape of him as his precum smears against the fabric of his underwear in opaque white. he drags a finger over your face, looks with hooded eyes as your lashes brush against your cheek and you drag your tongue over his clothed stiff cock. shouto adores your tremble…you think that he might hit you.

you’d deserve it, and he had before—useless little mutts like you needed to know their place if you wanted to stick around. “that’s…that’s nice sir,” you stutter, holding back on your brainless babbles, your hips gyrating into the floor beneath you, unbred and leaky hole clenching around nothing.

a reflex out of fear.

shouto hums, tilting your chin up to face him when your mouth hits his seedy tip through the fabric of his clothes— the heat from your sloppy tongue penetrating through the rough linen layers. “so, pet, if you want to make sure i don’t turn you into something even prettier… into something nice for me to wear,” todoroki sneers huskily, tinged with evil while he uses his grip on you to shove your face into his lap roughly. “then i suggest, you open up that sweet mouth of yours and let me feed you my cock, hm?” that’s how shouto todoroki gets you hooked, he has you running on the fumes of survival instincts— trained to love him, do absolutely anything for him despite how cruelly he may treat you.

though your crystalline puppy dog eyes are screwed shut and your spotted ears, sweaty and sore and pinned to your skull— you manage to pick up on the clink of todoroki’s gucci belt, making you growl low and impatiently. the desire to taste his cum, make him happy, shoots through you like a sedative injected into your veins, targeting your red blood cells and wrapping around them to spread obedience through you. yet again, against your will, you’re coaxed into the dark, cruel enigma that is shouto todoroki, letting him set fire to your body and take over any logical thought in your mind.

cunt dripping, juices sweet as ripened fruit— you peel back the layers of shouto’s garments ( though his pants sit at his slender hips, not fully pulled down )…a mean chuckle resounding in the sex tainted air in the room as you reveal his cock to your innocent stare, letting him lean back into the leather couch. he’s longer than he is thick, mushroomed tip a little purple with blue-tinted veins running up and down the length of him, a shade rivalling his own hungry eyes as he observes your next moves. the entirety of him pulses in your soft grip, the scent of his arousal bleeding from his cockhead sending your dalmation puppy instincts into overdrive. todoroki hisses, painfully hard, as you take him gently between your fingers— your thumb moving with uncertainty to rub his pre into his tip sweetly.

you’re almost ashamed of how much your mouth starts to water, the strings of your own saliva connecting the roof of your mouth to your tongue that writhes in place— aching to taste him, pleasure him with all that you can. the prominent adam’s apple of shouto’s throat bobs, watching with lustful mismatched eyes as you inch forward like a predator hunting it’s prey— reverting back to animalistic instincts while your pupils dilate. his face scrunches, a haughty moan vibrating in his chest when you grip him fully so you can guide him to your mouth—little hand dwarfed by the size of his cock, soft palm grazing the forked vein on the underside of his shaft as it throbs. “oh pet,” todoroki‘s words are drawled, lips between his teeth. “come on, be good.” you do your best to appease him, dragging his bulbous and creamy tip along the seam of your lips, kitten licking him to test the patience of your owner.

you’re frightful that you might have fucked up when you hear his hands slap down against the leather sofa before shouto drags you by your Dalmatian ears off of his girth, his own breathing irratic and irregular— cruel and cold eyes now blazing with hunger. you look up nervously, a whimper brewing on your wet, pre cum glossed lips to find the smoke stick now between his lips ( he’d lost it when kissing you. ).

“help me light it while you get me hard.” he grunts quietly, voice dipping an octave, dripping with a threat. as if he’s promising you danger if you danger if you don’t comply. he fumbles with his loose left pocket for a light after shoving the smoke stick past your wet, arousal soaked lips— maintaining eye contact as he flicks the lighter in front of the rolled tobacco. even though you can tell that todoroki is heavily aroused; you have no choice but to do what he says. he dominates your life, decides whether or not you stay as a fuckable pet or get turned into the next best fashion item. he has power over you even when his dick pulses in your hand and you squeeze him softly, letting his precum guide your movements as you start to palm him to a slow and steady rhythm. once the smoke stick in your mouth is lit, the flame threatening you, shouto takes it from you and places it between his own lips— puffing a ring of smoke into your face.

your wet puppy nose twitches unhappily, but you know that protesting will only end badly for you. that doesn’t seem to calm the racing heartbeat in your puppypussy, however, drooling at the idea of being scolded by your owner.

shouto leans back, tousled half and half hair thrown over the back of the couch— his flesh sticking to it, only caused by the cold sweat your temperate mouth has him in. both of you moan when you finally take him into your mouth, sinking down on him until your nose is pressed against milky flesh just like you’d practiced before. yours is desperate and needy, shouto’s raspy— proud at how well his little pup treats him.

of course, todoroki had to train you to suck cock too, breaching the innocence of your mouth despite your whimpered out protests at the time. he’d soon fucked it into your throat that if you wanted to live, you wouldn’t have a choice in the matter.

“y-you, oh fuck—“ shouto lets out a throaty hybrid noise, a lewd mix between an amused laugh and a deep moan as you flex your saliva laden tongue against the underside of his dick— taking a puff of his tobacco before looking down at you with so much love you might even think it was real. “you’re so pretty pet, so… so pretty.” he knows he’s done a good thing by keeping you, cruella; shouto todoroki brought to his knees by the sinful heat of your hell searing mouth, making him repent for everything he’s ever done wrong. “were you scared, pretty? t-that why you’re taking my cock so fucking well?”

all you can do it nod, swallowing the designer down eagerly in response— a resounding hum sending chills running down his spine as teeth and tongue vibrate around his shaft. you can’t help but let your awe-filled eyes flutter shut at the heaviness of todoroki on your tongue, drooling and dribbling above the place— soaking through his clothes that probably cost more than an entire litter of Dalmatian hybrids such as yourself. he oozes copious sums of precum, thick enough to glue your mouth shut ( like peanut butter for puppies ), filling you up and luring you into going after more.

pleasing him more.

your cheeks swell while you paw desperately at shouto’s ruined lap— breathing deep through your nose before you feel the weight of his hand right between your sensitive puppy dog ears. he tugs at the twitching limbs, twisting them while pushing you down on his aching cock. your throat contracts, cheeks hollowing until you’ve swallowed him down to the base and you’re practically gagging on the length of him, tip brushing against your uvula lips k the way down. poor puppy, you flinch at the slight twinge of pain from where shouto begins to pound your mouth roughly, balls slapping against your chin, slurping mixed with his yowls of delight filling combining with the sweat and sex loaded air. when you flinch, your teeth graze at the sensitive veins wrapping around shouto— making him choke just like you, on a puff of his smoke stick.

“fucking mutt, oh—shit!” he snarls, yanking you off of his tender and red, smarting cock— not caring of the way he holds you hurts you. “watch your fucking mouth, pretty. or i really will turn you into my next fur coat, darling.” the warning is firm, rattling you to your core, your mouth even more so wet and salacious at the fear shouto strikes in you. you’re back on him before you know it, his hips jutting up into the molten heat of your mouth, tip hitting the inside of your cheek, making him shudder every time. todoroki would be lying if he wasn’t obsessed with the way your floppy Dalmatian ears bounded the more he rolled his hips into your mouth, fucking your face. he was even more delighted by your sharp canines just brushing over his shaft, but he wouldn’t admit that.

loosening his tie, he throws his head back in a drawn out gripe, his moans raising a pitch when you grip his swollen balls, full of cum and roll them between dainty fingers. he pulls his smoke stick from his lips, tongue darting out to wet them as he taps the ash against your pretty face. “i think i’ll get you off pet, since you missed me so much. since i feel so bad for scaring you.” todoroki coos with faux sympathy, head lolling down to get a good look at your tear stained cheeks and your clumped together lashes. his dual toned hair now askew.

stilling in surprise, you yelp in shock as shouto shoves a boot between your arousal painted thighs— pressing the toe against your aching, untouched clit that's barely covered by the flimsy baby-doll shorts you usually wear. they’re coated in your sweet honey, and your owner’s mouth hangs open; mocking the darling mewl that would leave your own if you weren’t being stuffed full of cock.

the boot nestles perfectly at your cunt, spreading your swollen pussy lips apart and expostulating it’s in your sweltering heat. “you’re this wet? from hardly being touched?” he mocks you, pulling his foot back to stimulate your core. “oh darling, you’re soaked, pathetically so.” it is; it’s embarrassing how turned on you are from being threatened, fucked like your mouth is a flesh light. how you want him to love you even though you could be killed at any second. “grind that pretty pussy down on me pup, suck me off good and maybe I’ll let you cum.”

doing as you’re told, you work yourself down on shouto— tail thumping against the floor while you circle your hips over the cool leather of his shoe, the material pulling back the hood on your clit and sending shockwaves of dopamine across your brain. puppy dog eyes cross, with tongue running it’s owl circles along todoroki’s shaft. the fact that he looms over you, has all the power in the world to end you servers as your own personal adrenaline but you don’t dare deny that getting him off, gets you off too.

despite trying not to fall apart at every lick and suck you give him, sweat shines on todoroki’s pale winter skin— just as cold as he is, but maybe his evil heart melts a little, maybe having fur is less valuable to him when you weakly pull off him, and your precum-spit glossed lips encapsulate his seedy cockhead as if to makeout with it, running the tip of your tongue through his sensitive slit. “that’s it pet, swallow me down. earn that right to cum.” simpering, shouto grabs the sides of your head— holding you in place as his ploughs his hips and dick shallowly into o-shape of your mouth, battering about inside of it.

the cigarette he smokes just barely burns marks into the black spots or your ears, making you whimper out despite desperately thrusting down against your owner’s foot, practically riding it while a tight knot forms in your lower stomach and your puppycunt gushes about the place.

todoroki lets you go once he’s exerted himself, a mop of sweaty red and white locks dangling over the back of the couch. the world wouldn’t believe it it they saw their beloved cruella now; twitching and heaving as he stares his Dalmatian puppy down, marvelling in the way you spit down onto his bulbous and dripping cockhead before joining you in doing the same. the frothy white and bubbly mix crudely runs down his shaft, and you’re quick to lick it up from the balls to his slit again.

“oh fuck, pretty darling. you’re trying to ruin me, aren’t you?”

you don’t answer, jerking the man off as you look up at him so debauched; yet so innocent. he can see you fight the cross in your eyes as he wiggles his boot against your hardened pleasure nub, a cream staining the leather.

“w-words pet. tell me or you really won’t get to cum.”

you remember your desperation to be adored by shouto, as well as the release that sneaks up on you. so you find your words though your voice is hoarse from your throat being ravaged and decorated with precum. “i want you always sir,” you plead. “for you to always feel g-good with me!”

shouto grins, menacing, borderline crazy— it makes your pussy lips quiver while he angles his foot up, right as you drag your fluttering entrance over the toe. “you know just what to say to get me close, darling,” he says, grabbing hold of his own dick to tap it against your slobbery puppy tongue, feeding it to you again and thriving in the way that you tilt your head, angling it so he can fuck your cheek makinf your skin bulge. “gonna cum…pet, ‘n you’re gonna be obedient. hold it, until i’m finished with you…or you’re dead. meat.”

he punctuates his words with two rough thrusts, flinching with ecstasy, voice trembling. todoroki doesn’t let up in teasing your pulsating pussy, shaking his foot as you bump and grind against the shoe to your hearts content— fighting not to lose your orgasm while simultaneously dragging shouto to the edge of his own. it’s obscene the way both your mouth and cunt squelch, your owner leaking ungodly amounts of arousal into your mouth and down your chin ( though you’re no better, hot wet pussy ruining his shoes for good ).

todoroki loses his pace, smoke stick just missing his lips from how irregular and languid his thrusts are and before you know it, he’s taken a hold of your sore dog ears once more— his high takint him by surprise. “holy fuck, that’s it pet, be a good fucking dog, take it all. my seed.” the world around shouto todoroki falls away into mismatched pieces, warm and viscous cum flooding your mouth in waves; and you can’t even stop, sloppily worshipping his cock and all they it offers you as if todoroki is your god.

he might as well be, the way controls whether you live or die; even as you stare up at hearts dazzling your eyes. you need him to love you, to be proud of you. “so g-good, god pet. you’re wonderful,” the cruelty of cruella praises you, still filling you the brim with seed that sits salty on your tongue. todoroki takes a drag of his cigarette, feeling loopy, happier than ever with his decision to keep you.

lewdly, he drags shapes onto your swollen clit too, rocking his shoe against you— amused at how you struggle to keep your release at bay. tapping out the ash of his tobacco one last time, todoroki puts it out by singing the end of his cigarette into your spotted puppy ear again— smiling at your low, whistle tone whine.

“cum.” he commands, smearing his ruined cock against your lips. “or else, you won’t get another chance.”

fear breeds obedience and as if on queue, your body follows the order— a clear stream of arousal splashing out hard against the floor from your raw, sticky cunt. the world is a blinding white, black spots eating at the corner of your vision.

by the time you come to, world famous designer cruella— shouto todoroki has returned to petting your hair with gentle care that doesn’t make you fear him any less but makes you love him a little more. he chuckles, red and white hair shaking with it as you sleepy nuzzle his thigh— a mess of cum and tears and spit.

so shouto snaps a picture of you, a perfect muse for his next design.

his obedient and well disciplined, precious dalmation puppy hybrid.

more precious than any spot in the world.

934 notes · View notes