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purplehairedwonder · 2 years

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Lead Me Back to Suffering Chapter 17

Fandom: One Piece Rating: R Pairings: Trafalgar Law/Donquixote Doflamingo (Non-consensual), Trafalgar Law/Monkey D. Luffy Words: 3,364 Characters: Trafalgar Law, Donquixote Doflamingo, Monkey. D Luffy, Bepo, Shachi, Penguin, Zoro, Jean Bart Warnings: Rape/Non-con, suicide attempt Note: This was written for the “Kidnapping” square on my Bad Things Happen Bingo @badthingshappenbingo card. Anon prompted Law and Luffy.

The title comes from the Vertical Horizon song “Shackled.”

Summary: In the wake of Kaido’s fall, Law is kidnapped from the shores of Wano.

Previous chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16

Read also at AO3

“Fufufu. Very good,” Doflamingo chuckled. “I missed you, little bird.”

“I can’t say the same,” Law replied, his fist clenching and unclenching around Kikoku’s hilt.

Doflamingo pressed a hand to his chest with an affected sigh. “You wound me, Law. And after I came all this way to see you.”

Law scoffed. “Too bad you wasted your time.”

“Did I? Ah, yes,” Doflamingo said, feigning thoughtfulness. “I did happen to read the most interesting thing in the newspaper this morning.”

“Is that so,” Law drawled, his flat tone belying his rising heart rate. This was it; this was why he’d revealed himself. Only now would he know if it had been worth it.

“It was a clever move,” Doffy acknowledged. “I did not expect you to bare your secrets for the world.” He tilted his head at Law thoughtfully. “You sought to take away my leverage, right?”

Law clenched his jaw but didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure he trusted his voice in that moment. Doflamingo didn’t seem to mind—he never did. He was far too enamored by the sound of his own voice.

“It’s true the Gorosei didn’t want it known there was a survivor of Flevance or that there is another D. among the Worst Generation,” Doflamingo allowed. “I was granted freedom in exchange for taking care of that little problem quietly, but it’s no longer quiet.” His gaze sharpened. “But you forgot one thing.”

“Did I?” Law retorted before having to raise his blade to deflect another round of bullet strings. He could feel the worry crawling out of the shadows at the back of his mind, reminding him far too much of learning about Doflamingo’s unexpected background on Dressrosa. He couldn’t afford another slip like that.

As the strings pinged off Kikoku, Law’s eyes widened when he noticed Doffy following the bullets in a full charge. Law quickly Shambled himself across the square, and Doffy skidded to a halt where Law had been standing moments earlier. He spun around, pink coat swirling around his legs and an amused tilt to his lips.

“That’s right,” Doflamingo said, raising his hand to summon more strings. Rather than elaborate, however, he sent his strings at Law, forcing the younger man to parry and dodge.

Law’s focus narrowed in on Doflamingo and the strings he wielded with little more than a thought. Law had always grudgingly admired Doflamingo’s effortless mastery of his fruit; he and the strings moved as if they were one. Law had once sought to have such control of the Ope Ope no Mi, knowing nothing less would help him in defeating Doflamingo.

However, though he’d worked past his block with his fruit thanks to Luffy, Law was still not even a week removed from his captivity. His reflexes were delayed, and his stamina was limited; continuing to hold up a Room around the square was taking a lot out of him—though he knew it would take more to keep opening and closing Rooms as needed. He gritted his teeth and pressed on.

“Not such an easy target now that I’m not in Seastone,” Law snarled as he hurled a loose piece of ceiling at Doflamingo.

Doffy’s strings shredded the ceiling, and he chuckled. “You know I like the chase, little one.”

His stomach twisting, Law renewed his efforts, and he and Doflamingo traded attacks as they moved around the square. Kikoku was in constant motion, countering Doflamingo’s stings before returning strikes blow for blow. The more they moved, the heavier the blade became in Law’s hand; he could feel sweat beading on his forehead while his legs struggled to move at speeds that had once come easily to him—but he forced himself to stay in motion.

He would not be taken captive again.

He could not be taken captive again.

“Captain!”

Law’s gaze jerked from where it was focused on Doflamingo, who didn’t seem to be affected by the action of their fight at all, to the doorway of the library; his eyes widened in alarm. Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin stood in the doorway, looking on in concern.

Law glanced toward Doffy, who was also looking at the trio. His smirk twisted wickedly, and he raised a hand.

“No!”

Without thinking, Law pushed his Room as far and fast as he could. Once he felt the familiar presence of the Polar Tang in the confines of his Room, he switched Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin with two barrels and a chair.

The moment the switch was complete, Law’s vision blurred, and he stumbled, the Room falling around him. The energy it took to make such a large Room was the most he’d tried to expend since Wano—and he hadn’t exactly been in practice.

Law gasped in pain as a large hand suddenly grabbed him around the throat and shoved him backward into a brick wall. His head snapped back against the wall, and Kikoku slipped from his grip, clattering to the ground. Vaguely, he could feel her vibrating with displeasure. His lungs strained for air. He tried to fight off the hand at his throat, but his arms wouldn’t move.

As his vision started to clear, Law could make out Doflamingo right in front of him, one hand holding Law fast to the wall. Law glanced to either side and saw his wrists tightly bound to the wall with string. When he made a fist and tried to pull at the binding, the string cut sharply into his skin, drawing blood, and he grimaced. He thought Doflamingo might have said something, but he couldn’t make it out.

Just as his vision was starting to darken at the edges from the lack of air, Doflamingo loosened his grip enough to let Law take in a breath. Law was distracted enough just trying to breathe again that he didn’t notice Doflamingo reaching into his coat pocket until he saw what the other man had pulled free.

Law went rigid as Doflamingo held up a Seastone collar identical to the one he’d worn for seven months that kept his powers locked away, leaving him weak and vulnerable. Doflamingo held the metal through a piece of cloth to avoid the weakening effects himself as he showed it to Law.

No, was the only thought Law could muster as he struggled vainly against his bonds. He’d barely survived the last seven months; he wouldn’t survive being taken again.

Doffy leaned in toward Law and whispered, “The thing you forgot, little bird, is that I don’t give a fuck what the Gorosei or anyone else wants.” He nipped at Law’s ear, his tongue playing with Law’s earrings. Law shuddered, and Doffy chuckled into the sensitive skin, his warm breath leaving goosebumps in its wake. “And what I want is right here.” The collar clicked open. “Time to come back to where you belong.”

Time to come back to where you belong.

As if the words caused something to snap inside of Law’s mind, images suddenly flashed in front of his mind’s eye:

Bepo sitting at his bedside, hope and trust in his eyes.

Shachi and Penguin pulling him into a hug in the infirmary.

Jean Bart’s uncertain but hopeful smile after Sabaody.

Ikkaku wiping the floor with everyone at poker.

Clione bringing him food when he’d gotten too caught up in plotting revenge to eat.

Uni and Hakugan bickering over who had laundry duty for the week.

His entire crew waiting for him at Zou.

Luffy making up constellations on the roof of Kyros’s cabin.

Zoro lifting his sword in invitation as they sparred on the Polar Tang.

Robin’s small smile as they shared a cup of tea while taking a break from their roles in Wano.

The Straw Hats crashing into the Polar Tang’s mess after Law’s rescue with wide smiles.

Time to come back to where you belong.

Warmth flooded Law’s chest, buoying him. Law rocked his weight back then kicked out with as much force as he could. Doflamingo stumbled backward, likely more surprised than hurt, and Law opened a Room to Shamble himself and Kikoku across the square.

Doflamingo whirled on him, the vein in his forehead bulging. “Law…”

But Law straightened and fixed Doflamingo with a glare of his own. “I am where I belong.”

-----

“Oh, Torao’s back!” Luffy said, perking up as he recognized the lone figure heading toward the two docked ships. He righted himself from where he’d been dangling from the Sunny’s railing by his ankles, settling upright to let his feet dangle over the side. He’d been bored since Torao and the others had left for the library; he knew Torao had needed a distraction to keep his brain from focusing on the newspaper, but the library had sounded so boring, no matter what he or Robin thought.

“Captain!” someone from the deck of the Polar Tang called in greeting.

Torao raised his free hand to give a short wave before sticking it back in his pocket. His other hand held his sword firmly at his shoulder.

“Hi, Torao!” Luffy said brightly once Torao was close enough.

“Straw Hat-ya,” Torao replied, inclining his head in Luffy’s direction, a small smile on his lips. Something in Luffy’s chest warmed at the sight, and he grinned in return. Torao ducked his head, a quick dusting of pink apparent across his cheeks, before turning his attention to his crew.

“Where are the others?” someone asked from the deck of the Polar Tang.

“Not far behind,” Torao replied. “We have a few boxes of books to bring back.”

“Couldn’t you just, you know, Room them?” Luffy asked, waving a hand around in a vague imitation of Torao’s fruit power. (Torao had such a cool power, and he was doing better with it now.)

“I could,” Torao agreed before his lips sharpened into a smirk that made Luffy’s stomach flip. “But Shachi and Penguin were fighting again, so I made them carry the boxes instead. Bepo offered to help.” Some of the Hearts snickered knowingly.

“Shishishi, Torao’s sneaky,” Luffy chuckled.

“Is that Torao?” a voice from behind Luffy said.

Luffy turned to see Zoro walking up, his hand resting casually on the blades at his hip. Luffy grinned at his first mate. “Yep.”

Zoro stepped up next to Luffy and glanced over the railing. “Torao.”

Torao looked up at the Sunny and raised an eyebrow. “What, Zoro-ya?”

“After dinner,” was all Zoro said, though his grip tightened on the hilt of one of his swords. Luffy’s eyes widened as he realized what Zoro was asking, his heart rate picking up at the thought of seeing Zoro and Torao spar again.

Torao let out a snort but nodded. “You’re on.”

“Don’t even think of causing any damage we have to pay for,” Nami called from somewhere inside the ship. “You can’t afford the interest!”

Luffy sometimes wondered if his navigator had Observation Haki just for money things. Zoro just snorted and Torao rolled his eyes.

Luffy opened his mouth to invite Torao up onto the Sunny, but the words froze on his tongue as the world suddenly turned a familiar blue around them. Luffy frowned and looked down at Torao, who hadn’t made any move to open a Room.

A moment later, Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin stood on the deck of the Polar Tang before the blue fell away. Luffy blinked in surprise.

“Dammit!” Penguin cursed as he looked around wildly.

“What—” Ikkaku started, jumping back in surprise at the sudden arrival of her nakama, before Shachi cut her off.

“That’s not the captain!” Shachi yelled, pointing down at Torao.

Luffy’s eyes snapped down to Torao and reached out with his Observation Haki. There was… nothing coming from him. He was a void. Luffy had only felt that same feeling once before.

Suddenly alert, he jumped to his feet and reached an arm back before punching at Torao while Zoro leapt forward, blade drawn.

“Of course I a—” Torao was saying as Luffy’s fist hit his face and Zoro’s blade cut him in the chest.

Luffy’s arm rebounded, and he jumped down to the deck next to Zoro, who stood with two swords in hand. Luffy ignored the panicked shouts from the decks of both ships as he watched Torao unravel into a pile of string.

“Mingo,” Luffy growled, eyes narrowing at the string.

“What happened?” Jean Bart demanded, rushing up to the new arrivals.

“We were up at the library with the captain,” Penguin said shakily, “but he suddenly went outside. He told us to stay inside.”

“But we heard voices and then the sounds of fighting, so we went to check on Law,” Shachi added.

“It was Doflamingo,” Bepo said. “We wanted to help, but Captain Shambled us here first. I’m sorry.”

Luffy’s head snapped up as there was a loud crash in the distance—somewhere from the middle of the city. When he reached his Observation Haki in that direction, he could feel two familiar presences: Torao and Mingo.

While Luffy knew how strong Torao was, it hadn’t even been a week since the other captain had been freed. After seven months of captivity, Torao wasn’t in fighting shape yet. And Mingo knew all of Torao’s buttons to press.

A sudden memory of finding Torao dead on the rooftop in Dressroba made his stomach tighten uncomfortably.

“We need to help the captain,” Jean Bart said, and the Hearts chorused their agreement.

“Right!” Luffy agreed, glancing at Zoro. The swordsman nodded. “Let’s go!”

“Fufufufu,” a familiar voice laughed. Luffy frowned as the pile of strings that had once been the fake Torao writhed into a new form: Mingo. “You think I’m going to let you do that?”

-----

As he thought of his nakama, Law could feel energy buzzing beneath his skin as if it had been there all along, just waiting for him to remember.

Of course.

Law wasn’t the same man he had been when he and Doflamingo had faced off in Dressrosa. While Doflamingo watched, eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses, Law hefted Kikoku and reached for his power. He could feel it thrumming through him as he created a small Room coated Kikoku’s blade with a K-Room. Then he met Doflamingo’s gaze levelly.

Doflamingo looked momentarily stunned before he schooled his expression. “You’ve awakened it.”

“I suppose I have you to thank for that,” Law replied truthfully. “I was inspired by your display on Dressrosa to dig further into what my fruit was capable of.” His free hand clenched into a fist. “In truth, I’ve learned a lot from you.”

And now he was going to use what he had learned to end this.

Law leapt forward, and Doflamingo did the same. Law feinted to the side while Doflamingo took to the air. As Doflamingo swiped his arm down, Law stabbed upward, Kikoku stretching to impale the former Warlord.

Law cried out, his chest erupting in pain as Doflamingo’s Fulbright impaled him in five places before piercing the cobblestones beneath his feet. Law stumbled, his legs going out beneath him; the strings were the only thing holding him upright as blood pooled in his mouth. He shakily spat the blood to the ground then looked up to see Doflamingo looking at the blade painlessly sticking out of his chest.

“What—?”

“Shock. Wille,” Law hissed through bloody teeth, willing the Room surrounding Kikoku to release a shockwave.

Kikoku erupted, and Doflamingo bellowed in pain. The strings spearing Law receded, and Law dropped to his knees. Doflamingo fell from the air, slamming into the ground not far from Law. Law willed himself to breathe through the pain, though every breath sent a lance of pain through him, as he waited for the dust surrounding Doflamingo’s fallen form to clear. Kikoku, now back to her regular size, hummed in his grip, ready to draw more blood of a hated enemy.

Doflamingo was unmoving as the dust cleared, revealing his limp form amid debris. One of his legs was turned at an unnatural angle. Law coughed, blood splattering to the faded stone beneath him, then pushed himself to his feet with the aid of Kikoku. Probable punctured lung, his doctor side diagnosed in the back of his mind. Law ignored it as he staggered over to Doflamingo.

The former Warlord let out a wheezing laugh as Law collapsed to his knees once more at his side. “Impressive.” He coughed, blood dripping onto his chin. “But if you’ve truly learned anything from me, little bird, you’ll finish the job this time.” He gave Law a bloody grin. “I’ll keep coming for you otherwise.”

Law narrowed his eyes then reached for Doflamingo’s chest with a hand. Mes. Doflamingo hissed through his teeth as his heart was expelled from his body, landing in Law’s open palm.

“How appropriate,” Doffy mused weakly, eyes fixed on the slow-beating organ. “My heart held by my Corazon.”

“I’m not yours,” Law hissed.

Doflamingo chuckled and reached a hand toward Law’s face. “Oh, little bird. You don’t really believe that.”

Law flinched back as the brand on his back twinged; he swallowed, blood leaving a metallic taste in his mouth. Cora-san had wanted nothing more than for Law to be free, and after Dressrosa, Law had started to believe it might be possible. But then Doflamingo had taken him—had marked him forever as his. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be free of the man, of his influence. Not really.

“Torao!”

“Captain!”

Law started and looked up to see Luffy running toward him. Shachi, Penguin, and Bepo were right behind him with Zoro and Jean Bart bringing up the rear. Law blinked, not quite understanding what he was seeing. His mind felt sluggish, as though it was moving through quicksand to comprehend the world around him.

“Captain, are you all right?” Bepo asked as the group came up to the scene. He was wringing his paws as he took in Law’s bloody form.

“Fine, Bepo,” Law murmured. That, his doctor side helpfully noted, was probably the blood loss talking.

Doflamingo snorted derisively. “How touching.”

“Shut up, Mingo,” Luffy growled, aiming a kick at the fallen man’s side.

Doflamingo’s grin only widened. “This brings back memories, doesn’t it, Straw Hat?”

Law inhaled shakily as he remembered being on the ground unable to move as Doflamingo tried to stomp his face in. It was the most helpless he’d felt since hearing the first gunshot that struck Cora-san.

“We beat you back then,” Luffy replied. Something in his voice softened slightly as he added, “And Torao did it again.”

“Wait, is that…?” Penguin started, pointing at Law’s hand.

Law glanced down and blinked at the beating heart. Doflamingo’s heart.

It would be so easy to squeeze the life out of the man who’d killed his savior, to make him hurt the way Law had hurt for all these years. To make him feel the fear he’d felt as he’d hidden from the man’s prying eyes. Vergo had squeezed Law’s heart with a vindictive glee back on Punk Hazard, and Law could so easily…

Cora-san’s grinning face flashed across Law’s mind’s eye, and he could hear his words from that night as clearly as if he were in that treasure chest all over again—

“Law’s not going to follow your lead, Doffy. He overcame his fate that he would die within three years. He’s not the same Law who was out of his mind and wandered into the mid of ‘mad pirates’ years ago. He has nothing to gain from you, the incarnation of destruction. Just let him go! He is free!”

—and a wave of certainty washed over him.

He knew what he had to do.

“I am not yours,” Law repeated more firmly, looking back at Doflamingo. “And the most important thing I learned from you is the type of man I don’t want to be,” Law growled before hitting Doflamingo in the temple with Kikoku’s hilt.

The former Warlord went limp.

Law blinked down at the unconscious pirate, his emotions curiously empty. Is this what you would have wanted, Cora-san?

The thought had barely finished forming before the world tilted, and Law knew no more.

#I finally wrote it!#It's Law vs. Doffy #I'm quite happy with how this ended up #Trafalgar Law #Donquixote Doflamingo #Monkey D. Luffy #One Piece #One Piece fic #One Piece fanfic #Caitlin's fic

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bianxiousandcute · 1 year

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The Crows (Band au)

Summary: The crows are a rock band, Kaz is a drummer and the head behind the group, Inej is the main singer, Jesper plays bass, and Wylan and Nina play the guitar, Mathias is a Mormon, who may or may not have the hugest crush on Nina. Drama and music ensue.

I finally wrote it! I hope you like it!!

#six of crows #soc #shadow and bone #s&b #jesper x wylan #inej x kaz #nina x matthias #I finally wrote it!

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hansoeii · 6 months

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It's about who.

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writeouswriter · 1 year

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My followers: And is this “writing” you’ve been “working on” in the room with us right now?

#writing #writeblr #writer things #writing humour #textpost #writing humor #relatable #funny #I genuinely am writing for the first time in a long while #but it’s uh it’s for an angst fanfic for a fandom one wouldn’t expect fic for necessarily #and I’m embarrassed but I’m not because it’s good but you’re never seeing it it’s between me and my ao3 when I finally do finish it #it’s at 6000 words but fr that’s the most I’ve written on a single thing in a long time and it’s still going!#last time I wrote/finished anything in forever was also for this fandom back in November <3 nature is healing #it’s slow going but I’m hoping to finish it before June 😭

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crybaby-bkg · 4 months

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I think Deku has a bit of a mean streak, actually. he’s no Bakugou—that’s for sure—but he’s not this innocent, sweet angel baby that the media has painted him out to be. but you only catch it when you least expect it, when you’re pushing his nerves, when the stakes to everything around him are high, when he’s tired of endless sleepless nights and just—snaps.

“Oh?” you go, grin unfurling like some grinch, chin resting on your hands as you leer at him from across his expansive desk. “You’re mean.” your words are teasing, a snarl that curls your mouth up. Deku stutters, eyes going wide, jaw snapping shut in surprise as he tries to think back on how rude he just sounded.

“No, I’m not—I mean, you wouldn’t stop and I just—there’s a lot on my plate right now—and you just—you keep on—I’m not—I’m not mean.” He’s sputtering, hands all over the place, the glasses perched on the bridge of his nose falling even lower with how he jabbers on and on. it’s endearing really, to see how he tries to upkeep his image of being so kind and understanding, even though his nostrils just flared at you. and his eyebrows turned down and he gritted at you, his hands were balled into fists, his words were so nasty, so ugly, so unbecoming for Deku.

you liked it. loved it even—vowed to get him like this every single fucking second that you could.

you pick and poke at him whenever you see him, teasing him and pulling at him. pushing him around even though the hero is so much stronger than you, so much bigger. and he lets you, tries to defend himself but—that’s not what you want. you want the ugliness, the snark, the mean.

he snaps, eventually, when you least expect it. grabs you up in black whip when you go to push him against the wall for the third time in only a minute, his eyes suddenly dark, the aura of the room suddenly charged.

“That’s what I was looking for.” you whisper to him, the grin spreading your face quickly dissipating in only seconds when you become the prey. when you become the one pushed up against the wall with teeth at your neck, a hand in your underwear, bullying your hole with too thick fingers.

“Why do you want me to act like this? Be so mean to you, huh?” he sounds so frustrated with himself, with you, growling and nipping and licking when you don’t answer quick enough. but your breath is caught in your lungs because finally—finally, did you get what you wanted. it just took a little bit of pushing, you suppose.

#omg I wrote this idea down last night and couldn’t even type it up #bc I took some sleep meds and it put me out SO FUCKING QUICK????#usually I don’t lay down until like an hour and a half or two #but it was literally like 40 mins and I was DONE!!!!#but I finally wrote it :D #there’s also been so much talk of him on the dash and i am. very much so liking this #I miss him bc I don’t think about him enough #but I also think he can be. so mean. like NASTY mean when his limits are pushed enough #ohhhh my god I wont him so bad #okay gn I took more meds bc my pelvis has been in so much pain????#just the right side too??? omg AM I DYING GELP #—new treat in the streets! 🍫#deku treats! 🍬

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visionsofmagic · 7 months

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day 2: ryomen sukuna [breeding kink]

࿓ synopsis • sukuna just wants a womb to put his babies in but it changes when he fucks you.

―❦ nsfw, explicit language, f!reader, heian era!sukuna who has fours arms, concubine!reader, contains of a bit dark themes, licking, marks, pet names, humiliation, sukuna is being sukuna, a bit of fluff, sex addiction, fingering, cum, overstimulation [‘is all I guess?] • 1.8k • the first time I am writing for my favorite villain from jjk. Excited but there can be mistakes. enjoy! [kinktober m.]

“fuck brat!” a dark chuckling, mocking you as his crimson four eyes look at below - at the mess you are making because of his thick cocks inside your walls, deep enough to make it ache like hell yet magnificent enough to give you the pleasure no one can. “look at how my seed is coming out of your pathetic pussy.”

he doesn’t wait for you to respond- to even comprehend what he’s saying, holding your smaller face by the chin as his palm stays on your cheek.

he lowers your head down, making you look at his cocks disappearing inside your pussy, and a bit of his hot semen dripping from it to his abdomen.

“it’s-“ you try to say, sounding husky since you have only moaned, and screamed in the last few hours. closing your eyes, a jolt of electricity mixed with pain and pleasure runs through your body, even in veins, when he moves his hips, thrusting into you one more time before making you sit on his cocks once again - oh, his two damn big cocks should’ve ripped you apart if he wasn’t this gentle, surprisingly calm and gentle because he wants you to stay alive - you will have his legacy inside your womb after all, the reason why he fucks you for the past few hours.

“is it too much?” mocking again, his tongue on the abdomen takes a lick from your abdomen, traveling to your breasts from there, sending another mix of tears and moans.

“suku – aghh!“ a slap on the ass, “my king! oh, it’s - it’s too much! I can’t - I can’t -!”

he only laughs at your poor attempts, “you can’t?” he asks, not a question though, only a treat as he sounds like pure poison. one of his hands holds you from your neck harshly enough to make you shake in fear for a moment while the other free one caress your hair - the opposite actions of his two arms gives you a dizzying sensation that takes your logical side from you, giving you pure insanity in return.

“be grateful that I fuck you whore,” his other two hands hold your waist as he makes you move forward and backward, riding you slowly. you only hear your own breaths as if there is nothing left inside your lungs, eyes already blurred that look at his bastard but attractive face, hands standing beside you because you have no brain to use them, not anymore, not after he fucked you in 5 different positions already. “there are thousands of women and men who beg for my cocks, you know that, right brat?”

his hands move from your waist to your ass, grasping the flesh tightly – too tightly to leave red marks as you believe after feeling a sudden heat rushing to the skin he is holding, however, he doesn’t care at all – why he should anyway? you’re just one of his concubines – maybe his favorite one for the moment, and him showing you mercy and a bit of affection – unlike he does for others – doesn’t mean anything; you’re just there to take his hot semen every now and then, whenever he wants to fuck that pussy and brain of yours so that you can have his legacy inside you, heir to him – lots of heirs.

“puff –“ he says, scoffing after that, picking you up – a pathetic and cuckdumbed woman in his arms, he thinks, gazing at your half-closed eyes, agape mouth – salvia running out of it, “disgusting,” he says in a low tone but contrary to his words, his actions are proof that he likes what he sees because he keeps going and going until his eyes travel from that open mouth of yours he wants to put one of his cocks in, to your breasts full of biting marks that turned to red, moving to your pussy from there.

his cocks’ tips standing beneath your pussy that is pouring his semen ‘cause it is too fucking much.

shaking his head in arrogance, he puts your body on his lap with a bridal style, left hands staying on your back while a free one stays on your pussy, caressing it and he watches how your body begins to shake again, a hand is put on his chest, holding his wide open sleeve’s side tightly as if you have right to do that, and even your head fall into his shoulder, breathing rapidly yet lowly as he holds your body close to him.

why he does that – why he allows you to do that; remains unanswered.

he doesn’t think much, not now, he has a desire to put that damn semen into your wide-open pussy.

holding your thighs apart, his fingers – two long and thick fingers enter into your messy slit, white wetness joins into hot walls one by one, and it continues until sukuna is satisfied with it. “do not fucking dare to move now, woman.” he treats you. he sounds he is one step away from breaking your neck if you do move. you should fear him, you know, oppositely, you do otherwise, giving astonishing state to sukuna, making him freeze for a moment when he feels you getting closer to him, a hand travels on his neck, and a head sits on his shoulder, you even open your legs wider.

you don’t say anything, the mouth is too dry to speak aloud; he gets it though – and that gives satisfaction to him, and his responses end with a new position.

being the definition of menace for desires live within him, and you witness it when he puts you on the carpet, hovering below you as he cages you between his four arms, then, one of them appears on your abdomen, pushing it into the floor – gently yet it feels terrifying.

you look into his crimson eyes, hoping to see sanity inside them – what a fool you’re to try searching.

no, no – you think to yourself, conscious coming back even though you're high – he will not fuck you as a concubine now, he will fuck you as if you’re his queen, you’re so sure of it and the words slipping out of his smirking mouth prove you right.

“I will fuck so many babies inside this womb that you won’t be able to even walk, pretty slut,” a compliment, huh, sounds different than you thought, still, gives a jolt of happiness throughout your entire body that lying beneath his massive body, ready to take him one more – or maybe even more – time. “I will make a fucking queen out of you with my children. don’t you worry whore,”

the only thing you can remember is seeing his big smile – entertaining before the only thing you can comprehend is his presence below you, behind you, under you – hands conquers every part of your body because you’re his – the one who will give him heir, stay beside him, being a fucking queen of kings of curses. “you’re entirely mine now. mine to have – fuccck! – mine to fuck! and mine to breed.”

❦ tagging: @lilvampirina !

#💦 kinktober 2023 first week #kinktober 2023 #day 2 #ryomen sukuna #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna x f!reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk x reader #sukuna smut #jjk smut #💌 by me #red #THANKS FOR READING #I have never wrote for this man so it was a bit hard to stay in tone and cannon but I hope you like the final work! it was entertaining!#maybe a bit dilemma but I tried my best #thank u!

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solarmorrigan · 8 months

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“Oh shit, what’s wrong?”

Steve watches, horrified, as Eddie reaches up with his free hand to swipe at the moisture gathering beneath his eyes.

“Nothing, man,” Eddie croaks, and Steve doesn’t believe him for a moment.

“Did I hurt you? Is the bandage on wrong? Too tight?” Steve becomes aware as he speaks that he’s all but clutching Eddie’s hand in his own and makes a conscious effort to loosen his grip.

This only seems to make things worse; Eddie makes a noise of protest and grabs more tightly to Steve’s hand and then looks twice as mortified as before, and that’s not at all what Steve wants.

Changing Eddie’s bandages is a goddamn ordeal; there are so many of them, and they seem to be everywhere, and Eddie doesn’t have the good drugs anymore, just Tylenol, and he’s always exhausted and sore by the end of it all. Steve doesn’t want to make him feel worse.

He would start fixing it, if he only knew what he’d done.

“Eddie,” he says softly, “please tell me what’s wrong.”

Eddie shakes his head, swiping under his eyes again. “It’s seriously nothing, it’s stupid. It’s just…” he hesitates, and Steve squeezes his hand encouragingly. “It reminded me of my mom, what you did, with the little – like, the little kiss on the bandage when you finished putting it on. She used to do that.”

“Oh – shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, like, overstep, or–”

“You didn’t–”

“I thought it would make you laugh or something, not drag out some sad memory, and–”

“Steve,” Eddie cuts in more firmly, “you didn’t. I’m not fuckin’ sad, it just – kinda hit me weird. That’s all.”

Steve purses his lips, staring up at Eddie from the kitchen floor, where he’s been kneeling in order to work at the bandages. He’s not sure if he should get out of Eddie’s space now, maybe give him a minute to himself, because Eddie is still holding onto his hand, and Steve still has another bandage to change out, and then Eddie rolls his eyes at him.

“Stop looking at me like you ran over my dog, man. I swear to god, I’m fine. It was kinda nice, actually, alright?” Eddie huffs. “Like, I forgot about that, until you did it, so it was– it was kinda nice.”

“Oh,” Steve says.

“Yeah. So do you think we could just…” Eddie gestures at his cheek with his free hand, and Steve nods.

“Yeah, lemme– I’ll finish up.”

The bandage on Eddie’s cheek is the last to change out, and Steve tries to make it quick. He has Eddie hold his hair to the side as he works, mostly to give him something to do with his hands – there are a million hair ties still floating around the house from before Robin cut her hair (Steve finds more every time he vacuums, he swears the things multiply in the dark), but Steve’s found that giving Eddie some kind of task keeps him still while Steve deals with disinfectant and gauze.

He's gotten the process down to something simple and efficient, and it feels like he’s done too soon. Eddie takes a sidelong glance at him when he takes his hands away, though he’s obediently holding still until he’s given the all-clear.

“Done?” he asks.

“Almost, yeah,” Steve says. “One last thing.”

Slowly, in case Eddie wants to pull back, Steve leans in and presses a featherlight kiss to the center of the bandage, holding his breath in shivery anticipation of Eddie’s reaction.

“That alright?” Steve asks quietly.

“Uh.” Eddie drops his hair and turns to look at Steve, eyes wide but dry this time. “Yeah. That’s– Actually, no.” Steve’s stomach drops when Eddie shakes his head, but then Eddie goes on, “I think you should do it one more time. Just, like, to make sure it works.”

“Yeah?” A slow grin curls over Steve’s face as his stomach makes its way back up from where it had landed near his ankles. “I think you’re right. Better safe than sorry.”

Steve leans in again, giving the bandage a quick, gentle peck. Then, because he can’t quite help himself, he presses another kiss to Eddie’s chin. And then, because they’re right there, pink and inviting and slightly parted as Eddie watches Steve with rapt attention, Steve presses one last kiss to his lips.

Eddie barely has time to return it, but he laughs when Steve pulls away. “Pretty sure my mouth was never injured, Steve.”

“You sure?” Steve shoots back.

“I mean– Well, you could check,” Eddie offers.

“Yeah, I could,” Steve says, leaning back in for another kiss – one that he thinks should be much more thorough.

All in the name of proper care, of course.

[Prompt: Kissing your partner's wounds]

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddiesteve #stranger things #you don't even wanna know how many versions of this prompt I started and abandoned #this is what I finally ended up with #solar wrote

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tgcg · 6 months

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TG: over hill and yonder dale the brave sir karkat rides TG: slayin dudes and coppin feels of salacious buxom brides TG: posterior pert at any sign where malignance derides TG: brave sir karkat

CG: WOW.

CG: SOMETIMES I REALLY THINK TO MYSELF THINGS CAN'T GET ANY WORSE. ALL AROUND PARADOX SPACE I HAVE SLOGGED THROUGH SOME OF THE MOST RIFE AND RANCID SHIT YOU COULD EVER BELIEVE. YOU WOULDN'T. IMAGINE!!!! SOME OF THE MOST FECULENT OF SHIT I'VE DEALT WITH. AND YOU KNOW WHAT? THIS TAKES THE PROVERBIAL DEFECATIVE CAKE!

CG: THIS IS BY FAR, WITHOUT ANY SEMBLANCE OF FUCKING DOUBT, THE MOST EGREGIOUS, DELIRIOUS, ETHICALLY FUCKED UP "BIZNASTY" MY PISS-POOR JOKE OF "FORTUNE" HAS EVER HAD THE AUDACITY TO SITUATE ME IN.

CG: AND I HOPE YOU'RE PROUD OF YOURSELF, BECAUSE THAT'S REALLY FUCKING SAYING SOMETHING! GRADE A WORK, STRIDER! THE CROWD GOES ABSOLUTELY MILD!

TG: his dudely bard a witness to the power of his claps TG: what claps you ask the rugged cheeks of his hellacious ass

CG: OH MY GOD, CAN YOU TALK ABOUT SOMETHING OTHER THAN MY ASSCHEEKS FOR A SINGLE SECOND?! YOUR MATERIAL IS AWFUL!

#davekat #dave strider #karkat vantas #homestuck #this is only half of what i wrote #comix #twin fantasy #finally fixed the misuse of troll slang in this 1

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raphs-rhapsody · 7 months

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he immediately made scarab his own ao3 account afterwards.

#prohibitedwish #prismo #prismo the wishmaster #scarab the god auditor #scarab x prismo #prismo x scarab #fionna and cake #fionna and cake fanart #adventure time #adventure time fanart #finally figured out how to make the colors not look like shit #also half of this i drew with my finger cause my stylus keeps disconnecting #praise #the art struggle is so real #raphs ramblings #I WROTE MY @ WRONG AGAIN FUCK #prohibited wish

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clowfish · 29 days

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am I the only one who was stuck watching those eggshell peeling livestreams on tiktok that they NEVER peeled all the way

#I lied one time I watched one for hours just to see if they would ever finish it #they finally did and it was the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life #they wrote ‘d-boy’ on it then gave it a crown and put it on a throne THEN a started role playing the egg with taxidermied cats??#actually never recovered from that and I never watched another one again #kyle broflovski #south park #sp #sp fanart #south park fanart #ike broflovski #fish art #is this too niche

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turnipoddity · 7 months

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uhh anyway

#cutesy nurse adam for your soul #i need to get this outta my system #adam stanheight #saw #saw fanart #myart #made this bc someone finally wrote a fanfic for this fella… and i cant get him outta my mind

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ineffableteeth · 4 months

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I love the idea that Crowley KNOWS how down bad he is for Aziraphale and knows Aziraphale can make him do ANYTHING with a look or tone of voice

Then in S3 it’ll finally be brought up with a “Don’t look at me like that, please don’t look at me like that”

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #crowphale #gay omens #aziraphale x crowley #good omens crowley #good omens aziracrow #aziracrow good omens #crowphale good omens #good omens crowphale #aziraphale good omens #good omens aziraphale #crowley good omens #crowley loves aziraphale #aziraphale loves crowley #I made the first half of this post before the GO2 Line account posted the final 15 I wrote the rest after they did heehduhehr

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omenics · 8 months

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Hello! I think your Carmilla writing was really nice and was wondering if you could do a request for Alucard, where the reader was also there to help beat his father but stayed behind with him for support etc., a soft romantic relationship would be lovely.

Thank you and don't feel pressured to write this.

𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄.

› ..tender moments with your beloved. — sorry this took so long! but here it is. written with fem reader in mind, but written as gn. lmk if i missed anything/used gendered terms for reader!

“It’s late.”

“Vampires don’t need to sleep.” His voice was quiet. Soft. The fire roared beside him, but your night clothes were thin, and even with the flames you shivered.

“You are not a full vampire,” you stated. “You can enjoy the simple luxuries that sleep offers. Come to bed.”

Your final words came close to a plea, a beg, to which he sighed at. He could not refuse such a simple offer, especially not from you as you stood in the doorway, arms crossed as you watched him carefully. He would not hurt you, you knew this, but you watched him. You watched his slight movements and twitches, watched his chest rise and fall with shallow breaths. God, he was perfect. Even in the tranquil time of twelve o’clock with dishevelled hair and tired eyes, he was perfect.

He was silent for a while, wood crackling to fill the void.

“Okay,” he said, and he stood. The book in his pale hands shut, and his gaze lingered on the fireplace before he turned to you. His frame was illuminated in an orange light, twinkled with gold that pronounced his blond hair, and his features.

A smile played at your lips, corners twitching up as you moved towards him, taking his pale hands in yours. They were cold, or colder than most. But they were still steady, and you held them with a familiar touch. Your thumbs swiped across the back of his hands, caressing the pale skin as your eyes darted up to his. “Good.” You said, smiling. “Come, the bed had gotten cold. I will need someone to warm me,” you joked, and he let out a breath. A soft smile, different to your coy grin made its way to his face before he shook his head at you.

“Ah, I see.” Adrian mused. “You only wish for me to be a bedwarmer. How hurt am I.” You chuckled at his words, laugh quiet. Your shoulders shook slightly, and your grin grew.

“Precisely. Now come, my love. Join me.” And he did, leaving the hearth of the fire and into a cold, cold bed waiting minute by minute to be warmed by two lovesick idiots.

#› ..signature spells !#guys i posted smth finally #alucard x reader #adrian tepes x reader #adrian x reader #castlevania x reader #alucard castlevania x reader #alucard tepes x reader #alucard tepes #alucard castlevania #adrian tepes #castlevania imagine #alucard imagine #castlevania #idk what else to tag for real #idk if i like the ending but i wrote this in a span of an hour 💔💔

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pippuns · 1 year

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pre-transmigration cumplanes because they are the most divorced guys who never met

#svsss #scum villains self saving system #cumplane #cucumberplane #shen yuan #shang qinghua #shen qingqiu #pippart #these guys are so funny. i love sy's one sided parasocial hate relationship with sqh #i think sqh should start writing after transmigration again #and that sy should independently find his shitty writing and scathingly critique it anonymously #i need them to complain to each other about each other without realizing it's the other they're talking about #i think that's what sqq should be doing during the three years binghe got eebie deebied #when sqq dies and sqh stops getting correspondence from his new number 1 hater he's like #“oh boy im so happy i finally wrote something that guy likes. or maybe mbj killed him now that im complaining to him and not sqq about him”#and then sqq revives five years later and the second he has a chance he immediately starts catching up on five years of hate writing

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crispywizardtale · 3 months

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#I WAS RIGHT #THEY ARE THE TYPE TO LOVE FOREHEAD KISSES #I READ THEM ONCE AGAIN #this is the second time i wrote things that came to life #also they were right they first time is nothing compared to this #also FINALLY SOME NECK ACTION #what kind of omegaverse was this?!#once again i need SailubPon series ASAP #if i do not get them i will cry #pit babe #pit babe series #pit babe the series #alanjeff #jeff x alan #alan x jeff #jeffalan #sailubpon #sailub hemmawich #pon thanapon

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blindmagdalena · 5 months

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The Drug In Me Is You

18+ 3.2k vampire!homelander x supe f!reader. dacryphilia, noncon, p-in-v, blood drinking, possessive homelander, vampire bites as an aphrodisiac, cunnilingus, fingering, kidnapping, reader is held captive, gaslighting, abuse. dead dove!

Ever since Homelander got his cold dead hands on you, you've been the answer to his every prayer. You exist solely for him, kept safe in his home, delicious to the point where he refuses any blood that isn't yours. He isn't conscious of the extent he's grown to rely on you until the day he comes home to find you gone.

written for Monsterlander Mania! thank you @staarboyyy for the incredible vamplander gif. 🖤

There are few things that Homelander despises more in this world than summer. While the heat doesn’t bother him even beneath the thick layers of his suit, the rest of the world isn’t so lucky.

The meet and greets are by far the worst; a crowded collection of sweaty bodies piling in against one another like directed cattle, stewing in their own filth just long enough to reek of their own humanity by the time they’re touching him with clammy hands.

He’s never more grateful for his suit–especially his gloves–than during these occasions.

On top of that, these sardine can buildings become an echoing cacophony of juicy, throbbing hearts, every single one of them pounding in eager anticipation. Indoor events are better for blocking out the sun, but worse for every other aspect when it comes to his senses.

By the end of the day, his skull is throbbing and his stomach is twisting itself into knots. He needs quiet. He needs home. He needs to eat.

It’s dark by the time he lands on his balcony, the hour late. While he does prefer flying at night, he doesn’t like coming home so late. He tugs off his glove to use the thumbpad, which unlocks his automatic door. Stepping inside, he then hits a switch that triggers his blackout blinds to close behind him alongside the door.

“What a fucking day,” he grouses, making his way to the kitchen. “Twelve hours of this shit. I hate summer,” he says, tossing both of his gloves onto the kitchen counter. He reaches into the fridge and pulls out a bottle of water and a dark, thick green slurry in a tall lidded cup. It’s packed full of everything he both needs and likes, but perhaps most important is the iron content.

He goes through a fair amount of that.

“But I’m glad I’m home,” he says, carrying both beverages to his bedroom. “Because it looks like someone didn’t drink their shake.”

Homelander stops dead in his tracks, staring blankly at his empty bed. Standing perfectly still, he listens for the familiar cadence of your breath. The beat of your heart. Anything to tell him where the fuck you are. When he hears nothing, he drops the drinks unceremoniously to the floor and spins on his heel, instantly tearing through the penthouse.

He doesn’t smell blood or death, but the thought of you dead seizes him anyways, hurling him instantly into a panic. He scans through every wall and ceiling, but you’re not here. He calls your name, shouting it down each hall, but he’s met only with the reverberations of his own distraught voice.

At the front door, Homelander moves to input the code to open it, but halts abruptly. The panel is green. It hasn’t locked. Pulling it open, a thin piece of plastic falls away from the mechanism. It had been blocking the lock from securing.

Wednesday is grocery day, he recalls distantly. A staff member came to restock the fridge. They must have had the door propped open, and you…

Left.

You left.

Homelander rips the door open, nearly yanking it off the hinges, and storms down the hall, fangs bared. You must have waited until it was late and the guard presence was scarce, otherwise someone would have reported you. You can’t have gone far.

When Vought realized that the continued development of Homelander’s powers came with a particular quirk that necessitated the consumption of human blood, they began the process of ensuring he always had a steady supply to keep him from eating his adoring fans. He never really cared about where the blood came from until he tasted yours.

Yours was special. It did something no one else’s ever had; it made him feel alive. He could taste the world in ways he never could before, and if he drank enough, he swore he could feel his heart start to beat. None of the scientists knew why. It didn’t matter to him. From that point on, he wasn’t interested in drinking from anyone other than you.

That was when he decided to keep you close at hand. Cut out the middleman.

You belong to him, and you have for months. He’s taken the utmost care of you, ensuring that you could have everything you need within the confines of his penthouse. The finest foods, every form of entertainment one could dream of, exquisite service at your fingertips and most compellingly of all, the love and adoration of the world’s greatest hero.

So why the fuck would you leave?

Homelander rips through the tower. He’s furious, wounded and hungry. Those few security guards smart enough to get out of his way evade his rampage while a couple of unlucky ones wind up with their own personal craters in various walls.

He can smell the intoxicating allure of you trailing a path through the halls, but the combination of his hunger and his rage makes following it disorienting. He’s in no condition to hunt–he’s become sickeningly complacent in your time together, more reliant on you than he ever would have admitted freely. He’s grown to love the wait, letting himself feel his hunger so that you taste all the sweeter on his tongue.

Now the churn of it in his gut burns like fire.

Nevertheless, he is relentless, and within minutes he finds you in the garden just outside the tower, locked in by looming steel gates. You aren’t even properly dressed, garbed only in the thin loungewear he keeps you in, barefoot and combing your fingers through a tall hedge full of flowers just beginning to wither, their pink petals curled and browning.

You don’t even notice him until he’s upon you, snatching your wrist and whirling you around so sharply, the hedge behind you drops its wilting petals in a flurry. He must be a fearsome sight if your expression is anything to go by, your eyes wide and panicstricken.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” He hisses through his teeth, fangs fully protracted. You take a breath to speak, but he doesn’t want to hear it. He jostles you by your shoulders to cut you off, fingers biting into your arms. “Do you have any idea how fucking worried I was?”

Your pulse is racing. He can hear it, feel it in your wrist beneath his thumb. The sound of it is nearly enough to throw him to the ground, to shred the thin veneer of humanity he wears and give in to the bloodlust. His thumbnail tilts ever so slightly, biting a crescent mark into the supple flesh of your wrist. Never have you felt more tender in his hands. Never has he come so close to tearing you apart.

One slip, and you would be spilling red all over his tongue.

“I just–” you begin, but he pulls you sharply up into his arms, seething so furiously that he can’t stand to hear you speak. He’s too far gone. Too fucking hungry.

“We’ll talk at home,” he grits out, and with a sonic boom that rips the remaining blossoms from the hedge in a flurry, he launches into the sky, purposefully flying too fast to allow for conversation. He holds you to his chest as tightly as he dares, landing back on his balcony with a thud. He uses the thumbpad and damn near tears the door off the hinges pulling it open.

Homelander doesn’t have time to waste. You bounce a few times with the way he drops you onto the bed. Glancing up, he catches sight of himself in the myriad of mirrors. No wonder you looked at him the way you did. He looks crazed, lips parted around his fangs, his usual bright blue eyes shining pure crimson.

It’s fine. It’s fine. Everything will be fine after this.

You scramble up the bed, moving backwards on your hands, but he catches you by the ankle and yanks you back down it, climbing on top of you with a frustrated noise that fades off into a sigh. “Y’see what you do to me?” He asks, voice low and frayed. You yelp when he rips your shirt clean apart, exposing your top half completely. Your skin is adorned beautifully with the history of your night.

You bruise easily for a supe. Your blood just loves to rush to the surface for him, vessels full and bursting under his grip. The memory of inflicting these marks is so intoxicating that even in his frenzy he can’t help but lean down and drag his tongue over one of the bruises that mottle the pretty skin of your chest. Under his tongue, you feel like ripe fruit yearning to be bitten into.

“Please, Homelander, stop,” you plead prettily. He can hear your tears in the tremble of your voice, practically taste the salt in the air.

Good, he thinks viciously. Cry. Regret. Never do this to me again.

“Played a dangerous game tonight, sweetheart,” he tells you, that pet name dripping with affection and venom in equal measure. He forces your legs apart and settles between them, tearing what little clothing remains on your body like paper and tossing it aside. He presses his palms down against your thighs, and the heat of you compared to the chill of his fingers nearly burns. He pushes your legs up and apart, soaking in the sweet smell of your cunt.

Sex and feeding have always gone hand in hand for Homelander. Vought tried for years to satiate him with plastic blood bags and artificial alternatives, but it never fed him the way a meal he could fuck does. Still, all of them paled in comparison to you. Your inner thighs are a mixture of both new and faded punctures that dot your body in matching pairs, scars that he hopes never fade. They mark you as his.

Neither of you will ever settle for another ever again. “I didn’t mean to make you worry, please–please let me explain,” you weep, trying to squirm out of his grasp. With a predatory growl he yanks you back into place, unwilling to listen.

The hunger is driving him to madness. He can feel your pulse like it’s his own, the sound of it thundering in his ears until it threatens to split his skull in half. His nails bite into your skin while he leans in, deaf to your begging as he closes his eyes and opens his mouth wide, sinking his fangs into the soft, succulent meat of your inner thigh.

Your blood spills into his mouth like rich ambrosia. He moans loudly, losing himself to the taste and the heat. Your blood is transcendent, going beyond nourishment. Your pulse reminds his heart to beat. The more he drinks, the more the warmth of you fills his frigid body, thawing out his sanity alongside it. Your heat courses steadily through him, the fervor of it vanishing that nauseating pound from his skull until the only throb he’s left with is the one between his legs.

He sucks in a wet breath when he breaks away from you, panting his delirious pleasure. There’s nothing in this world than the high that comes after being satiated from a frenzy. It’s like he’s floating, his tongue and throat tingling with your sweet nectar.

He isn’t the only one tingling. He can smell the heady musk of your arousal. Your fearful tears are no match for the effect his bite has on your body, how his saliva mingles with your blood and makes you ache for him.

Without his hunger deafening him to the world, he can focus again. He takes a moment to lap at where he’s bitten you, cleaning up the blood that dripped from the wounds. He trails his blood-warmed tongue inward, far from placated.

He pins your thighs down flush to the bed and nestles into the sweet core of you, plunging his tongue eagerly into your cunt. Your body jolts, but he holds you steady, eagerly swirling his tongue, collecting the taste of you to drink down. He sucks hungrily at your clit, pulling off of it with wet little pops, kissing and licking and sucking until you’re writhing beneath him for all the right reasons.

Devouring you like this is working him back up into a different kind of frenzy. He slips one finger into you, then two, mouthing your clit while he fucks you with his fingers, coaxing more and more from you. Your walls feel so fucking soft and velvety around his fingers, and his need to feel you quivering around his cock is rapidly outpacing his hunger for the taste of your cunt. With one last deep plunge of his tongue, he lifts himself over you, reaching down to hurriedly unclasp his belt, staring down at you with lust glazed eyes.

You’re a mess. Your whole body is flushed with heat, and you’ve barely stopped moaning since he bit you. He’s heard the effects of his bite described like a fever, a delirious experience that robs you of your senses and leaves you desperate for more, for anything of him. Even so, you haven’t stopped crying. It makes you look sweet. Vulnerable. Fucking delicious.

“Mmm, you’re pretty when you cry, baby,” he says, running his tongue along his teeth, over the sharp juts of his fangs. He gets his cock free and adjusts himself between your legs, laying over you. “This your way of saying sorry? Because it’s working,” he tells you, bracing one hand on the bed next to you while he uses the other to hold the base of his cock, dragging the head of it up and down through the wet mess of your pretty pussy lips. “Show me how sorry you are, sweetheart. Be good for me,” he murmurs against your skin, nuzzling at your throat.

Opening his mouth, Homelander bites into your neck at the same time he thrusts forward, letting out a muffled, ragged moan as he sinks into you on both fronts, shuddering with how fucking good it feels, tight and wet and hot as sin. Between that and the fresh rush of your blood down his throat, he ascends to a state of goddamn euphoria.

You make a noise somewhere between a sob and a moan. He drinks you up, savors the sound of you as much as he does the taste. He snaps his hips, wastes no time fucking you deep, holding you still with the lock of his jaw while he pounds you into the mattress.

“Oh, ffffuck,” he groans, lips bloodied. He laps at the blood on your neck, the sound of it as wet as his cock hammering your cunt with the relentlessness of a machine, utterly inhuman in the way he takes you. “So good to me, aren’t you? Feeding me, taking me. Mmm, fuck, m’close,” he says, nuzzling at your skin, enamored with the warmth of you.

With the ravenous insanity of his bloodlust fading, his thrusts become less brutal. He hikes your thigh over his hip and holds it there, sliding into a rhythm that’s something closer to making love. Your cunt quivers all around him, and by the noises you’re making he knows you’re electrified, out of your mind with the haze of pleasure that his bite induces. “M’gonna take care of you, too. You know that, don’t you? Yeah, y’do, and you won’t ever fucking leave me again. Don’t know what I’d do if I lost you,” he pants, mouthing at the shell of your ear.

It’s a lie. He knows what he would do. He would punish any world that dared take you from him. The thought alone would be enough to enrage him all over were he not so deeply soothed by your iron on his tongue and your soft body giving into him. If he had breath to give, it would be stolen by the way you seize up against him, orgasm taking hold of you like a possession, capturing your voice and rolling your eyes heavenward.

This is love. This undying hunger, this obsessive compulsion to keep you close. He craves you not just for the ambrosial taste of your blood, but for your soft lips against his and the timbre of your voice. He brought you into his life to satiate his bloodlust, but never could he have fathomed the greater emptiness that you would fill. Knowing you were here waiting for him has made him understand for the first time in his life what it means to come home.

He’ll ruin you before he loses you.

Homelander comes with a low, wrecked moan, kissing you fervently as he stops to empty himself into you as deeply as possible, forehead pressed to yours.

You’re panting, letting out pitchy little wisps of sound with every breath. He gently kisses them from your lips, hushing you. “S’alright, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek, licking the salt of your tears from his lips. He cups the other side of your face and strokes it with his thumb. You’re shaking all over. He slips an arm around you to draw you close, to comfort you as you come down from your high. “Ssshhhh. Everything’s alright. M’right here, and I love you.”

That wrings a tight little sob out of you. He smiles, dazed on his own lingering ecstasy. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. No one’s going to hurt you,” he assures you, kissing your forehead. “Can’t imagine how scared you must’ve been, wandering alone in the dark like that,” he says, stroking your cheek with the back of his knuckles. “Just happy I found you before anything happened to you.”

What if someone else had found you like that? Confused and vulnerable. He would have found you eventually, but had anyone been unlucky enough to lay their hands on you before then, they wouldn’t have hands for much longer. He kisses you again, firmer, possessive. “Don’t cry, baby. You’re safe now. You’re home.”

Gingerly, he slips from the wet heat of your body and adjusts himself, getting you both situated under the covers. He spends a while soothing you, rubbing your back while you lay in his arms, kissing the top of your head every so often.

“You alright?” He asks eventually. You aren’t shaking anymore, but you haven’t said a word. It makes him a touch… anxious.

“Yes,” you whisper. It’s not very convincing, but he wants to believe it enough that he accepts the answer anyways.

“Good,” he purrs, slipping his hand over the back of your neck. His fingertips brush your menagerie of scars, each bite a reminder of how thoroughly you have allowed him to love you. “That’s my good girl. I love you,” he says with a smile, tipping your head back to kiss your lips.

He waits.

“I love you,” he says again.

“I love you, too,” you finally respond.

His smile broadens. He draws you closer to him, listening to the lively thrum of your body. You are the warmth in his own veins, the beat of his heart. This, too, is love. Kissed lips, bitten limbs, hungering teeth and bodies intertwined. It’s sweeter than anything he has ever known. The need in him is a monstrous thing, he knows. He hadn’t known how monstrous it was until he thought–even for a moment–that he’d lost you.

It won’t happen again.

#homelander x reader #homelander x you #terato #vampire x reader #monster romance #monster x human #it's late af but i FINALLY wrote vamplander!!!! special shoutout to non and calli for helping me with this one #my writing #dark fic

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