shinsocest

[shinsocest]

breaking my silence to say mothman is yummy 🥰

[shinsocest]

Lord have mercy.

[shinsocest]

happy mothers day ✨️

[shinsocest]

@boosyboo9206

“i really don’t get how you’re not dating him yet.”

your best friend’s words linger insistently in the back of your mind as you glance over at kuroo from the passenger seat of his car. they slip down your throat, fluttering hard in your chest when his eyes flick to yours as he slows to a stop at a red light.

the clock on the dash reads 4:38 AM.

some song on some playlist that you made on his phone plays through the speakers.

green washes over his face, and he crooks a smile at you before turning his attention back to the road. tucking your chin into your shoulder and turning to look out the window, a fresh wave of something flutters behind your ribcage as you incidentally inhale kuroo’s familiar scent.

your fingers pinch the edge of one of his hoodie strings. he’d immediately shrugged it off when he picked you up at the airport, trading you the worn material for the two suitcases sitting on the sidewalk beside you as he popped his trunk.

it’s unusually cold for an early june evening.

and you’re not dating kuroo because he’s your roommate.

because he’s one of your closest friends.

because you have a boyfriend.

—a boyfriend who made a face over video chat when you hesitantly asked him if he’d be willing to pick you up from your flight that had been bumped to a red eye last minute. who rattled off some convoluted excuse about work and being tired and not having gas in his car before shifting his attention back to the video game he was playing.

and yet here kuroo is, looking soft and rumpled and tired behind the wheel as he drags a hand through his hair before his finger twists the volume knob up.

(on a song that you love.)

(your boyfriend always skips this one.)

here kuroo is when you know he’s got to be at the office by 9 AM, completely unbothered by the two-hour round trip from the airport back to your shared apartment.

here kuroo is, showing up for you like he always does.

showing up without being asked.

(he’d texted you shortly before your flight left to ask when you’d be landing, if you were just going to crash at your boyfriend’s after he picked you up.)

(“you’re not taking an uber by yourself in the middle of the night,” were the first words out of his mouth when you answered his call after texting back that your boyfriend wasn’t getting you.)

it’s funny, the way kuroo’s actions seem to unintentionally peel back the shoddy wallpaper that’s been plastered over the seams of your relationship for years. the way you see cracks now in places you’d once thought whole, emptiness in corners that seemed full by illusion alone.

“there’s a cool lookout to watch the sunrise just off of that exit,” kuroo interrupts your thoughts, gesturing toward a reflective sign indicating the upcoming turn off.

“aren’t you tired?”

kuroo’s palm slides over the steering wheel as he taps his turn signal, fingers drumming thoughtfully against the gear shift knob. “good coffee spot nearby, too.”

you tilt your head. “don’t you have to work today?”

he smiles at you, and your heart drifts on a gentle, warm current when he winks and says, “already called in sick.”

kuroo’s never uttered those three words all of your friends have said time and time again—you deserve better.

(he’s never said them because he doesn’t need to.)

[shinsocest]

the whole “em dash is an ai indicator” thing makes me want to commit terrorist acts

[shinsocest]

you tell deku through a stuttered gasp that he has to stop fucking you through the mattress at that particular angle or you're gonna piss yourself, and it just makes him make an insane, feral sound and fuck you harder

[shinsocest]

guys night

[shinsocest]

really enjoying reading apocalypse aus lately

[shinsocest]

beloveds…. pls entertain me.. what are your f/o’s fatal flaws…

[shinsocest]

reblog if you have skilled writer friends and you're damn proud of them

[shinsocest]

NOTICE: As more and more fanfic writers are using generative AI for their works (you uncreative dweebs), I hereby swear on everything I hold dear that I have not and will NEVER use generative AI in ANY of my written work. Everything I post will be organically and creatively my own.

[shinsocest]

[shinsocest]

No. 005

AKA: "sometimes it rains only for me"

Notes: Gangsta worick nii that no one asked for. There's a faceless partner in here too so make him pretty bc you deserve it ♡ i wish I'd seen this fandom in its prime

Word count: 2.615

Warnings: incest, prostitution, taboo lust and love, idk i put my feelings into this one

The sound of rain on pavement is a soothing sound. It's a quiet, consistent melody. A natural promise of life. Of things washed away. Something to trust in. 

You like rain, just the rain. Even now.

Your favorite customer loves to keep his windows open, even when it rains. You think of it as his unintentional gift to you, to hear each note, each drop, fall to the street outside, rising clearly above his groans and breathy adulation. He has a soft voice; it pairs nicely with the rain.

"Best throat money can buy."

His hand is warm on the back of your head, firm but not insistent as you pull back to give him a coy, reprimanding smile. Spit shines on your lips and chin as you flatten your tongue on the underside of his cock, feeling his pulse kick under the slick muscle.

"Does it have to be about the money?" You coo softly, giving him an endearing pout as you crawl up into his lap from the floor, settling demurely in his lap and grinding your bare cunt into the curls of his pubic bone, the weeping slit of his cockhead winking at the ceiling as it rests on your backside.

"And here I thought you liked my money," he hums, grabbing at your chest and pressing his teeth to your collarbone. A pleased sigh escapes you as he soothes the marks with his tongue, your clit swollen and throbbing as you absently pleasure yourself on him, resting your chin on top of his head as you listen to the rain outside and run your fingers through his hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp as he groans in approval. 

"I think we've spoken about this before, you know." Your tone is casual, far away, as you consider the deja vu. Your smile returns as you push him back against the pillows, feeling comfortable and in control.

"Have we?" He groans as you reach behind yourself and steady his cock, holding it still readjusting yourself to lower your drooling slit over his flushed cockhead.

"Oh yes," you moan as slowly begin to take him in, your slick walls warm and swollen from the anticipation of pleasure. Your lashes flutter as your hips meet, your nails making light marks down his chest as you hold his lust-clouded gaze. "Your other girls, do they make you feel this good?"

"Not even close," he murmurs, groan catching in his chest as you take his hand, beginning to rock yourself slowly on his length as you draw his fingers into your mouth, sucking on each digit slowly, letting the pads brush your throat before moving onto the next. 

"Can you imagine why?" Your tongue traces the golden band on his third finger, watching his lazy grin sharpen, and moaning when he grabs a handful of your ass. 

"Tell me, darling."

"Because your other girls come here for your money," you sigh and place his hands on the center of your chest, silently urging him to touch you.

"And what do you come here for?" 

You hum, back arching as he plucks at your nipples, his eyes trained on the way they tighten under his touch. 

"I come here to get what I can't get anywhere else."

You tense subtly as he starts to move, relaxing a moment later when he starts to put you on your back. You rest your hands above your head, crossing your wrists the way you know he likes. He's watching the way your tits bounce as he fucks into you with little grunts as his hips slap against your ass.

"You're my most expensive whore and you don't want my money?" The thought seems to emblaze his lust instead of dampening it, his thrusts become sharp, almost brutal, but you welcome it with a long moan, nodding as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, letting him feel your nails.

"Not a single dollar—" you cut off with a gasp as his pelvis shifts firmly against your needy clit, sparking you towards pleasure as his rhythm begins to stutter, fighting vainly to keep in line. "Oh that's good, hck- so good—"

"And what makes you different?" He asks, voice tight as he mounts towards a raging climax.

"Because you're paying me, but I'm still getting what I want," you whisper, biting at his throat until he shudders and begins to rut helplessly, hot sticky ropes beginning to spill into you as he groans just loud enough to block out the rainfall for the first time tonight.

He fucks his wet warmth into you until his dick flags and he pulls out, collapsing next to you and breathing hard. You lay next to him, propped on your side, tracing lazy shapes on his chest until his breathing returns to normal, your eyes closed as the downpour continues. Soon after you slip from the bed, searching for your discarded dress. His content eyes track your movements, and he makes no move to help you as you sit at his side and ease back into your heels. 

"So what is it?"

"Mm?" You glance up from the straps on your ankle. 

"What's the thing that you want?"

A soft smile curves your lips as the answer flickers into your mind, but a clap of thunder pulls your attention to the open windows. The rain begins to pour heavily outside and you glance at the small jacket you'd brought with you. Instead of answering, you lean down and give him a light, lingering kiss on the corner of his lips before a familiar phrase is whispered. 

"Ask me next time."

He gives you a defeated but good-natured sigh and pulls a clip of cash from his bedside drawer, watching intently as you accept and slide it safely into your bra.

"Are you walking in that?"

"Don't worry about me, sir. My brother will walk with me."

"Tell Worick hello for me."

You give him a small wave before showing yourself out. The rain takes on a new sound as you descend the stairs, a fresher scent as the humidity caresses your skin. Its roar enshrouds you, droplets reaching eagerly for your skin as you reenter its embrace. It feels warm and familiar as you get a glimpse of the sky hidden above these loving rain clouds in the eyes of your elder brother. His remaining eye is such a clear, bright blue despite the storm brewing in his iris; his smile is as transparent as the dark clouds. Yours is as clear as the rain as you lean up to press a kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you for coming to take me home.”

“And let you get cold and wet all alone?” That same smile softens into something a little more genuine. “Let’s go.”

Worick is silent as he walks beside you. You know he doesn't like the rain like you do. The memories it stirs turns him into a different version of himself. It's always best to let him work through his thoughts.

You hum as you walk. It's a tune from a forgotten time. It was easier for you to leave that place than it had been for him. Your mother whispered many poisonous things about Worick and your father's ex-wife to you, not that you listened. It was her way of trying to disconnect you from your brother. It's fair to say that she failed at a lot of things. Some days you wonder if you should feel any remorse for what happened to your parents, but the feeling always fades when the storm clouds bring this look to Worick's face. 

You reach for his hand, and his fingers intertwine with yours after a time. It's warm in a way that makes you wish the clouds would never fade.

He doesn't let your hand go all the way home, until the door to the apartment closes. His fingers work at the buttons of his soaked dress shirt. Your eyes trail the tattoos visible through the pressed fabric. 

“Are you meeting any more customers today?” Worick drapes his shirt over the back of a chair. 

“No. My last one pays enough that I'm free for a couple of days.” You discard your jacket on the floor. It hadn't helped much, and your dress wasn't any better. The fabric clings to your body. You turn, displaying your back to him, your fingers on the clasp of the zipper. “Help me, Worick-nii?”

His window of hesitation has gotten smaller and smaller over time. This time only a moment passes before you feel his fingertips brush your neck, and you welcome the sound of the zipper unfurling. 

The dress pools on the floor at your feet and you step out of it. His gaze diverts from the cash folded in your bra and instead follows the water droplets sliding down your skin. Wordlessly you turn, stepping towards his room. The path is short but each second that passes is slow. You enjoy it, the familiarity of this dance. Feeling his presence not far behind you. His desire. Yours. 

Your knees dip into the mattress as you reach for the latched window above his bed. His focus on you is so intent that he doesn't notice when you push the window open, letting the sound of the downpour fill the room. 

His hands wrap around your ankle and he tugs you back down into the bed, with you turning to face and receive him. Your thighs open to let him fall between them, arms above your head to leave yourself completely open to his grasp.

As Worick rushes to get his body over yours his movements are frantic and uncoordinated, much like how you imagine he staggers through a day without his cigarettes, desperate for that familiar comfort. His lips can't seem to choose which part of your body they want first, ghosting down your throat, between your tits then over one soft mound, his teeth grazing one of the pebbled tips. The sensation makes your stomach swoop and hairs stand on end. You whine as he pulls away too quickly after that and sits back, his fingers fumbling with his pants, threads ripping from the frantic tugs. The way his hands run over your body mirrors his struggle, shaky and uncertain at first. His normally composed demeanor has devolved into that of an addict distractingly close to their fix. 

But he finally frees himself and your gasp disappears into a clap of thunder as he wastes no time soothing his own ache. The first stretch of his girth always comes with a little sting but you welcome it as he thrusts deeper, the addictive burn of his cock carving you open, coaxing you into wrapping a thigh around his waist.

The plain relief that comes over Worick is comparable to when he gets his first puff after a stressful day. A sense of calm washes over him, his muscles loosen, his breathing steadies, and his movements become fluid and purposeful, transforming his initial desperation into the state of a ravenous high. 

“Worick-nii!”

Your moans and breathless calls of his name harmonize with the rain as he takes what you both need, more wet sounds added to the melody of the storm as Worick's hips slap rhythmically into yours. 

Your fingers dig into his triceps—you'd always been greedy. Your desperation and anticipation for Worick had left you wound too tight before this even began, and now you find yourself unraveling for him so quickly. Always too quickly. The coil in your stomach snaps and you gush around him, but Worick doesn’t stop. 

He moans low and pretty as your walls squeeze and quiver around his cock, but he keeps fucking into you because he still needs this, still needs to feel you around him as long as he can. He needs his baby sister to fill the ache that no else can touch. 

That's what his eyes tell you as you gaze up at him through a haze of tears. His fingers dig into your waist as he pulls back into each thrust. Your gasps have become pitched and whiny as he keeps your body on a lightning edge, and you can see just what that does for him. To leave yourself open to him no matter what.

He wants to kiss away your tears, taste your lips and feel each cry of yours disappear down his throat, but he's selfish. He needs to watch you, to hear this, for every sinful detail of you to be carved into his memory forever. No matter how many times it takes. 

You're whimpering something to him, over and over, lips form the words that damn him to this existence, to this hellish paradise that he can't even say he wants to escape.

"Love you, Worick-nii. Love you, feels so good, love you s'much, love you—"

Worick grits his teeth as his balls tighten and he spills into you, sweat dripping down his chest. His body is sticky as he slowly lowers himself down, collapsing at your side and throwing an arm over your chest. His nose is pressed into your neck as his breathing steadies. 

He takes a long exhale before speaking. It's soft so you have to strain to hear him over the storm. 

“Nic and I make enough to keep us going. You don't have to work.”

You turn to face your brother. “I can't just not contribute, dummy. If you guys are going to earn, so am I.”

It's obvious that he expected that answer. You can see the way his lips flatten. The two of you had been here before. It's not like he can offer you any alternatives. Work for women in Ergastulum is limited, especially when commonly associated with Tags. You'd been tossed out of several places after just being seen with Nicolas, not that you minded anymore.

You like the way things are now.  

Worick sighs and sits up in the bed. You can see the nail marks on his arms as he reaches for the cigs in his bedside drawer. He's not speaking to you now, and you know he won't for a little while. 

He blows the last of his smoke out the window before closing it with a firm snap, and disappears into the bathroom. The shower kicks on, and you hear a dull thud. You decidedly won't be joining him in the shower. 

You stretch and rise from the bed, finding a pair of panties to slip into. You then pick up one of Worick's discarded shirts from this week, and drape it around your shoulders. It had only a couple of droplets of blood on the sleeve from a small skirmish, but that doesn't bother you.

You make your way into the living room, sitting on the desk to stare out the window. The storm seems on the verge of passing, taking with it some of your peace. 

Just as the shower turns off, the phone next to you begins to ring. The bells rattle the desk for a moment before you pick up. The voice of one of your customers greets you.

You smile.

“Good evening, I was hoping I'd hear from you soon. Your wife must be keeping you very busy to make me wait this long.”

Motion in the doorway pulls your attention.

Blue eyes like thunderclouds bore into yours as your sinful voice purrs into the receiver. You don't look away. Your brother hadn't realized at the time how much power he'd given you when he taught you his own lines. 

“How much are you willing to spend on me this time?” 

[shinsocest]

my baby turned 18 today ~

[shinsocest]

You wear this tight little white shirt at your best friend's house for a sleepover. It's a little too small and your tits are a little too big to fit the shirt properly, making the material stretch a little thin and in the right light anyone can see your nipples. But it's just you and your bestie, no harm no foul and it's a joke shirt anyway, bright pink letters straining from your breasts that spell out cowboy pillows.

Expect there is harm, there is foul.

Your best friend's older brother is home tonight, when he shouldn't be. Boots at the door, hat tossed onto the entry table.

Ya know the guy you have a big fat love hate crush on, Bakugou Katsuki.

He sucks his teeth, mutters "trashy" under his breath and you flick him off with burning cheeks.

And somehow around two or three am you find yourself plastered to him, forehead to forehead with that tiny shirt pushed away from your now bruised and bitten tits.

His hips rocking as he fucks his fist, his face sticky from your cum before he's shooting rope after hot rope onto your spasming stomach all while looking you dead in the eyes.

It's quiet for a moment, the two of you panting, him closing the gap between your mouths for a kiss only for you to interrupt the action.

"Thought you said this was trashy." Sharp claws tugging at the shirt. Breaking what little bonding was made between the two of you. Katsuki snarls then scoffs as he rolls his eyes. Slapping your sensitive cunt hard enough it echos.

"It is. Why else did ya think I didn't cum inside?"

[shinsocest]

Bakugou’s head pounded as he struggled to fit his front door key into the lock, roughly smashing it against the cold metal until it clicked. Practically falling into his house as he strumbled to regain his balance, fuckin’ dunce face and his happy hour strawberry daiquiris. He’d always told him that those drinks were the most lethal, the ones that would really get you in trouble.

He hadn’t planned on going out to celebrate his birthday, perfectly content with spending the evening at home cooking his favourite mapu tofu and watching reruns of the American All Might documentary; but instead he’d found himself at a dingy dive bar surrounded with all his friends who insisted on plying him with drinks. Practically groaning at the puppy dog eyes Kirishima had given him when he’d returned with a tray of shots, “You need to let yourself relax and unwind a little, Bakubro! It’s not good keeping yourself so pent up.”

And perhaps his best friend was right.

Collapsing onto his bed as he attempted to struggle out of his jeans, barely able to unbutton them before giving up with his chest heaving. For fucks sake, the room was spinning. It didn’t help that his cock was stood proudly at half mast, bulging beneath the denim and desperate for some sweet relief. He’d spent the entire day bricked up, and the alcohol had only worsened the sensation.

Bakugou unlocked his cellphone to check for the time, wincing when a bright 1:49AM flashed across the screen. But even more glaringly obviously was the influx of notifications that had caught his eye, a multitude of them replying to a post that in his drunken stupor he hadn’t even realised he had sent.

Replies:

Reply from @kweenkatsuki-fics just head, king?

Reply from @kingkatsuki who knew Dynamight was such a slut?

Reply from @saturnsorbits thought you said you weren’t that desperate, huh?

Reply from @bakugotrashpanda video attached, hit me up

Reply from @strafepanzer anyone will do huh?

Reply from @katsukikitten picture attached, location shared, cum here

A Bakugou Birthday Bash Collab!!!!! A mix of smut and crack fics we've whipped up and hope you enjoy! Please be sure to check back for the fics on the mentioned blogs! Fics will be posted around Bakugou's birthday! 420 blaze it 🍃

Intro written by @kingkatsuki

[shinsocest]

No. 002

AKA: "Don't Look Behind you."

Notes: Another reupload with some minor little touch-ups ♡ but I'm feeling some spark lately and just waiting for my attention span to take it easy on me and give me a fighting chance

Warnings: fem!reader, humanoid but definitely monsterfucking ♡ voice kink with a touch of hypnotism, blood, good ol' size difference

“Won’t you turn around?”

His voice makes it feel like the bright summer sun is still warming your backside even though night fell long ago.

“I want to see your face. Please?”

Your breathing is labored, your pulse roaring in your ears so loudly that you can’t hear your own steps, the crunch of leaves as you keep your eyes glued to the forest trail. Not that you can tell, but the forest is silent save the voice behind you. It’s as if the very trees are holding their breath in fear, or sick anticipation. 

It’s agonizing to ignore the voice that seems to trail only a few steps behind you at all times, and it’s only the words your grandmother had drilled into your head all your life that keep you from turning around.

Don’t look behind you. If you must enter the woods, never look behind you, not even for a second. Or you’ll never be seen again. 

“Come now, you must be curious. I can tell—you want so much to see me.”

You shudder at the purr in his voice and how he seems to be looking into your mind, plucking your thoughts for himself. 

“I’ve seen you, you know. You’re in this forest all the time. Always during the day. Always so careful.”

Your footsteps falter before you right yourself, chest growing tight as your breathing goes shallow. You move faster, but his voice never gets any farther away.

“You always leave before the sun sets. Always. So tonight makes me wonder, maybe you wanted to meet me.”

Why does he have to sound so human? You’ve heard the stories from everyone; the hushed whispers from frightened women that carried farther than they think, the low rumbles of worried hunters that found their way to the ears of everyone in town. You know what he really is.

“Fur as black as night. Unnatural the way it stands like a man.”

“I heard they’re yellow, the eyes of a true monster. The stuff of nightmares.”

“Claws that look like they can rip through bone if it so much as touched ya.”

“The teeth of a demon, that’s what it must be.”

“Legend says even Hades spat him back out. That beast is poison.”

Demon. Beast. The stuff of nightmares. That’s what creeps behind you in these woods, haunting your footsteps like a dutiful shadow. Silent. Dangerous. Lethal.

But his voice? No one ever said anything about that. It makes you question everything, enchanting your mind with how rich and charming it is, how warm, calling out to you like a siren song. You feel yourself torn two ways, fear wants to send you running back to town, never to enter these foul trees again but your curiosity wants to turn and face him, to find out if all the stories and legends are a lie. How could such a voice belong to a monster? 

“That’s it, isn’t it? If that’s what you want, just turn around and see for yourself.”

Your vision blurs and something warm drips down your cheek. When did you start crying?

“Don’t you know how long I’ve waited to meet you? Maybe this is fate. Why else would you be here?”

The edge of the trees is in sight now. Only a short distance until you’re safe. So why are your steps slowing? Why are you doubling the time it would take you to exit these woods? Maybe you’re wondering if he’s right.

His voice seems to reverberate through the trees, getting stronger and more enticing as the distance grows shorter.

“Can you live with not knowing? I can promise you now, if you leave, you’ll never find out. You’ll never get the chance to see me again. I’ll make sure of it.”

That promise would be a gift, a blessing among blessings, to everyone you know—so why does it make your heart thump heavier? Why does the thought make you feel so hollow? Your steps carry you, shaky and regretful, outside the treeline and then you stumble to a stop, dragging air into your lungs with heaving breaths. Your head spins and you don’t know how long you stand there. The trees are silent behind you and so is the voice. Maybe he really is gone, like he said. Gone forever. 

That same accursed curiosity grips you so tight that you can’t breathe, and you turn, scanning the forest with wild eyes. 

Almost immediately your gaze falls on the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. He’s tall, taller than any man, and his hair is black and carelessly ruffled. His features are strong and masculine, with a sharp jaw and a straight nose. Where is the monster? Surely this can’t be him… But his eyes are yellow and glowing just like the stories say.  

He wears no shirt, and his tanned skin almost glows in the moonlight that dapples through the gaps in the trees. His legs are cast in shadow from where he leans against a tree, covered in black rags. Your eyes dance over his broad shoulders and tapered waist, briefly taking in the raw strength and rippling muscle, before flicking back to the face you can hardly bear to look away from.

“There you are. Thanks, sweetheart.” For a moment he smiles, and it strikes you dumb with the beauty of it. Blinding, distracting. You almost don’t see his eyes go from yellow to red. Almost.

He lunges and you scramble back and turn to run, driven on pure animal instinct, but you barely make it step before something closes around your arms and begins to drag you back under the canopy. You kick and struggle and scream to no avail, clothing ripping as it tangles with the brush as you’re pulled farther and farther away from the familiar trail.

Your next scream gets muffled into a warm palm, but it dies in your throat when something sharp pricks at the skin of your cheeks. Eyes wide with panic, you struggle, only to be bodily turned around to see him giving you a feral smile, interrupted by the finger he raises to his lips. Ivory claws adorn the ends of his fingers, monstrous and lethal, and you realize that they are the same as the ones clutching your face.

“Shhh. Don’t scream again, okay?” He smiles and now that you’re closer, you can see that his teeth are those of a predator. Razor-sharp, carnivorous fangs with serrated edges. How did you miss them before?

You close your eyes and turn around, leaning against a nearby tree as if it will help tether you, or shield you from your current fate. He lets you pull away, but he still crowds up behind you. You can hear his nails—claws—scraping against the rough bark as he leans closer. And the rags on his legs? They aren't rags but fur, you can feel the coarse bristle through the tears in your clothing, his significantly higher body heat leaching into your skin. For a moment, the warmth is comforting.

“Won’t you tell me your name?”

It’s much easier to forget what’s behind you with your eyes closed. As long as you listen to the saccharine sin of his voice, everything will be fine.

You gasp as he grips the back of your arms, impatient for your answer. There’s hot pain burning through you where his claws pierce your flesh. “I want to know what to call you. I think a long time ago I was called something… a name.” There’s a heart-pounding silence as the creature seems to get lost in thought, but his hold on you is no less vicious. The silence breaks with a self-satisfied purr. “Ah yes, Tetsurou is what they called me.”

The sound of his name falling from his lips seems to light a fire within you, and you gather the courage to whisper your own into the night.

Tetsurou repeats it slowly as if he’s savoring it, and the effect is immediate. You fall limp in his grasp and your pain is slowly forgotten, and with the way your blood turns to rivers of liquid fire, you swear there must be something magic to his dulcet tone because you can’t explain the way your body is responding. This heat boiling within you can’t be natural; why would your body be responding so positively to a monster, this creature? As human as he appears, you know for sure he is not. It must be magic. It has to be. Because the alternative is...

He’s silent for a moment before asking slowly, “...Do you like the sound of my voice? Is that it?”

You whimper and nod, keeping your head lowered. Tetsurou grows still behind you and then he emits a small huff, as if amused. Then he purrs your name softly, almost crooning it to you.

The noise it tears from your throat is almost inhuman.

Tetsurou groans. "I've been waiting for you for a long time, did you know that?" A breathless moan rattles in your throat as something hot and wet drags against the side of your neck, despite the sharp claws that still dig mercilessly into your arms. "I can smell you—you—for miles. I can pick your scent out of thousands of others. Would you like to know why? Go ahead and ask me why."

“Why?” You tremble, trying to be still as he shifts behind you, pleased by how quickly you’re beginning to respond. You wait with bated breath as he pauses, teasing you with his silence. Seconds tick by and all you can hear is the rush of your pulse as you wait impatiently for that warm voice of his to speak again.

“Because you have the sweetest blood of anyone in that little forest town.” 

You freeze. “Wh—What?”

“In the last three hundred years, I have never hated the curse binding me to this forest, not really. After a few decades, I stopped feeling the hunger; I stopped feeling the loneliness. I was satisfied with my lot, tempting a stranger here and there into turning to face me so I could be allowed to touch them. It was only when I first caught your scent did I truly begin to hate it. I thought I understood madness,” he chuckles lowly, drawing a tingling shiver out of you at the sound. “But I was wrong. I felt true madness knowing I would have to wait for you to come out here on your own, torn with the idea that you never might. I know the legends I’ve created—I enjoyed creating them. It brought me amusement for some years. But I cursed myself every day for years when I realized I may have cost myself the chance to—” A rumbling growl sounds above you, interrupting his rant but you’re still and starstruck, bound by his voice. “For some mere entertainment. No source of entertainment could ever be worth losing this.”

He groans as he presses his nose to your neck and inhales and you gasp as he shifts and you feel something hard and warm pressing into your back.

“Are you still listening?” There’s laughter in his voice that makes your blood sing praises.

“Yes.”

“You really do like my voice, huh?” Tetsurou lowers his tone to a purr that raises pleasurable goosebumps across your skin, heat prickling beneath it.

“Yes,” you moan. You’d give anything to listen to him speak for the rest of your life.

“I guess the spirits did take pity on me when I asked them for something that would give me a chance to keep you.”

You’re barely processing his words anymore. All you’re aware of is how the longer he speaks, the more you feel as if a cocoon of safety is being wove around you, warm and secure. It’s all you’ll ever need.

"I bet you'd do anything I ask." It's almost as if he's talking to himself, but then his words drip like honey and you know he's talking to you once more. "Wouldn't you sweetheart? You'd do anything for me, right? I'd do anything for you, you already know that."

"Um, I—" You feel dizzy. You're drowning in him, any whispers of discontent quieting to the back of your mind as a careful hand traces the column of your throat. The movement is so gentle that you forget to be afraid. There's nothing left but the desire to hear him speak and the curiosity that brought you here in the first place. 

"Tell me yes." Tetsurou murmurs.

"Yes," you breathe. "Anything."

An approving growl rumbles in his chest, followed by the sound of shredding fabric. As the brisk night air tickles your skin you realize that it was your clothing being torn from your body. 

You gasp as you're pulled away from the tree and spun to face him once more. His eyes are still red, and rapt with hunger. A flutter of fear and anticipation twists in your stomach as your eyes trace lower to see what hangs between his legs. It's no doubt a cock, but much unlike one you've ever seen. It's large and covered in swaths of veins, but it also has a tapered tip that is drooling obscenely and bumps and ridges that you're ashamed to admit heighten your sick curiosity. He's so much bigger than you that you begin to doubt.

Tetsurou traces a claw between the valley of your breasts. "I can't promise it won't hurt, but I can promise to make it worth it. Understand?"

"Y-yes." Your voice shakes.

"Good." Without saying another word you're yanked to his chest. Before you can so much as squeak in surprise, his teeth are buried in the flesh where your neck meets your shoulder.

Tetsurou's moan is completely drowned out by your howl of pain. It hurts so much. You can feel your blood rushing to the wound and down your chest. Thankfully he releases you quickly, his tongue hot as he laps at the streams of red pouring from the wound.

"You taste so good." His eyes are wild, lips and chin dripping, his sharp teeth coated in crimson as he smiles at you. "So good. I knew you'd be perfect."

"H-hurts," you whine, shaking. "Oh my god, it hurts! Tetsurou—"

"Mmm," the beastman shudders. "You sound real good saying my name like that, my darling." He nods along with you as you continue to cry about the pain; he doesn't even think you notice that you're no longer standing as he hovers over you, curiously rutting his throbbing length over your bare cunt. He grins as he notices that you're wet. Not enough for his cock, but he can do that enough for the both of you. "You agreed to this, but don't worry; I won't bite you that deep again. I can't have you bleeding out on me. I want to keep you after all. I just needed to taste you so badly."

There it goes again. The sound of his voice is making your pain float into the background. Your vision fuzzes in and out as you stare up at him, open-mouthed and panting. 

"That's my sweet girl. You're so well-behaved," Tetsurou purrs, continuing to slide his length between your folds to stimulate himself. Each drag on your plush skin causes more slickness to gush from the tip of his cock. He's growing impatient but he doesn't want to break you. Not yet.

He's so hot, and you can feel yourself squirming. The heavy weight of him against your cunt is awakening your arousal and your breathing quickens. You're really doing this, and you're enjoying it. One of his ridges catches against your clit, drawing a breathy moan from your lips. 

Tetsurou pauses for a moment and grins when you whine in protest. "This? This is enough to make you feel good? Humans are so easy to please."

"Tetsu—" You're cut off as he leans down and kisses you. If you could call it a kiss. His tongue is licking sloppily into your mouth—you shudder at the coppery tang of your own blood—and there's no pattern to his movements. He's simply greedily taking what he wants. It distracts you from the firm press of his cock as he lines up with your slick-soaked core.

But no amount of tongue and spit could distract you from the way he shoves inside your dripping hole. You choke and jerk your head to the side, mouth open wide in a soundless scream as you try to adjust to the sudden, thick intrusion. Between the both of you, you're wet enough, but with no preparation, there's sharp discomfort in how full you are. 

Tetsurou groans deeply at how warm and tight you are around his dick, giving a few experimental thrusts, grunting as your walls spasm and protest. "You're a lot tighter than I expected, I'm not sure I can fuck you like this."

"Slow! Gimme a minute!" You find your voice suddenly and beg. "Big, 's too big, it wasn't supposed to fit!"

"Not supposed to fit," Tetsurou barks a small laugh. "My dear sweet, it was always going to. You’re mine, have been since the moment you turned around. You feel amazing, so just relax for me okay? Everything's going to be fine." He lowers himself onto his forearms, but not before grabbing you by the thighs and locking your legs around his tapered waist. He coos your name, moaning when it causes you to clamp down on him even more. "Do you hear me? Relax, darling. Calm down for me."

"Okay, okay. Okay—" you whimper and babble, repeating the word mindlessly as you try to comply. Tetsurou is still whispering sweet nothings in your ear as he begins to fuck into you again, each dulcet syllable turning making you feel as if a current of electricity is lighting up across your whole body. Your toes curl and your eyes clamp shut, chest heaving as you emit loud moans and warbling cries. Tetsurou groans heartily as your pussy relaxes and begins to suck him in, thrusting his hips more fervently until he's battering the entrance of your womb. 

"Ah, fuck. There you go. Good girl," he murmurs, pleasure making his voice breathy and warm. A growl rumbles in his throat as you moan and your eyes roll back. He sits back on his calves, keeping you down with a hand on your chest as he rolls his hips into you again. Sharp eyes are watching the way your tits jiggle, the tremble of your thighs, the way you're leaking around his cock, the obscene squelch-like music in his ears. 

His eyes zero in on your clit, swollen and throbbing pathetically from neglect. He drags the back of his knuckles across the bundle of nerves, eyes lighting up and taking in the way you moan loudly, back arching as you try to shove your hips towards him for more friction. 

“Is that what you like?” Tetsurou muses out loud, not pausing in his thrusts. He does it again, harder, licking his lips when you squeal out a litany of ‘yes’. Your silken walls are throbbing around him, clenching and fluttering. “Those are some pretty sounds. Are you close? Look at me.”

You look up at him with tear-clumped lashes. Something is boiling and twisting inside you with each snap of his hips and all you want to do is reach it. “Please, I wanna cum.”

“You want to cum?” It sounds like he’s mocking you and it makes you gasp, nearly sobbing your reply.

“Tetsurou, please! Yes, yes!”

His grin is feral as he leans in and nips at your breast, drawing his tongue through the blood that slipped down your shoulder. He nudges at your clit once more and his command sends shivers across the planes of your body

"Then touch it. I'm sure you don't want me to. I could… miss." His words are teasing and you recall his claws with a shiver, immediately reaching down and circling your clit desperately. Your head falls back against the earth and you wail out as he starts timing his thrusts with your movements. His pants are getting quicker, interrupted by heavy grunts and groans, each one getting louder.

“Fuck—” 

Tetsurou swears and moans your name and it’s the final snap. You come undone with a scream that echoes throughout the trees, and it’s the fierce squeeze of your cunt that tips him over the edge, leaving the beastman to snarl and slam into you one last time before something slick and hot fills you up.

It’s not long before a new story becomes whispered in that quiet little forest town. It speaks of the ghost of a lost woman who wandered too far from the trail one night and was never seen again. If one stops to listen, they might hear her cries echo through the forest at night, an eerie reminder to not stay in the trees too long.