#“I'm surprised with how many children you've swallowed that one managed to make its way to safety” killed me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bitchgray · 7 months

Text

I Dream Of You

You've met a wonderful man...now you just need the help of a certain dealmaker to keep him. And luckily, he knows just what he might want from you.

Word Count: 7K

Dividers both by cafekitsune.

Tags: afab but gn!reader (reader's described as having breasts and wearing a two-piece swimsuit, and is mentioned as being able to carry children), established relationship, roleplay (Azul pretends to be a manipulative asshole for fun, sport, and sexual gratification on both your parts), dubcon (as part of the aforementioned scene), tentacles (so many fuckin tentacles he's an octomer what do you expect), I take liberties with guessing mer anatomy, oral (sort of? He sticks his fingers and one of the aforementioned tentacles in your mouth), breeding kink, praise, petnames (pretty thing, darling, pearl), creampie

Author's Note: I'd call this Kinktober but I don't think I'll write more, so I'm just uhhh....stuffing as many kinks as I can into this and calling it a day.

You wished the sound of the waves were soothing to you. The feeling of the cool water lapping at your feet, the salt in the air, the heat of the sun on your skin. You wished any of it could be soothing to you.

As of this moment, though, more than anything, they were reminders. Forcing you to keep your resolve or be left on your own. And that, more than anything…you knew you couldn’t manage.

The potion you held in a stoppered glass vial would work marvelously, you had no doubts for that, all that would be left…is to simply drink it.

All you could do was take a slow breath of the stinging, salty air, and muster what little courage you could have.

With hands that were steadier than the way you felt, you undid the stopper of the bottle and knocked back the potion—it felt ice-cold on your tongue, making you cough when you finally swallowed all of it.

You looked briefly back at the abandoned, rocky shore, doubts swirling in your mind.

And you took slow, measured steps into the waves, letting the water consume you.

You knew how to find where you needed to go. Beneath the waves you were able to breathe just as easily as you could above, and your body was resistant to the pressure, your eyes were adapting faster to the light dimming from the surface. Even the cold wasn’t clinging as easily, your body adapting to more and more as you slowly walked your way to the cave where you knew you’d be able to get what you wanted.

“Hello?” An odd thing, the way your voice reverberated underwater, but your newly-sharpened gaze caught on to a flutter of movement deeper into the cave. Your brow furrowed—you knew you had the right place, so was it as simple as no one being here at the moment?

You hesitated at the entrance once more, but wandered in all the same.

You came to the conclusion by the sight of the space someone else clearly lived here—or at least it wasn’t uninhabited for very long at a given time. Small collections of bottles, tinctures sat in clear view on a table. A large tome, some glimmering collection of metal ores and precious stones sat in clear view.

Your curiosity was rather good at getting the better of you—you didn’t notice the way a shadow from the deeper part of the cavern reached out behind you, many-limbed and wanting.

You shrieked in surprise as it did, as suddenly you were yanked back from the table, from the light, into the entryway into a deeper part of the cave, and a hand sealed itself over your mouth, muffling your surprised, frightened struggle against the arm that held you tight against a bare chest, that pinned your arms to you with surprising strength.

“Shhh little human.”

The voice was lilting, warm, even, as it tried to soothe you—as warm as his touch and the appendages that you knew even in the dark to be tentacles from how they felt, weaving around you in cautious but eager motions, suckers fluttering over the soft of your skin.

You squeaked behind his hand as one of those tentacles suddenly wormed its way up your inner thigh, and you squeezed your legs shut, trapping it in place, your heart pounding in a way that decidedly didn’t get soothed any by his laughter, by the way his tentacles now worked with a stronger want to feel every inch of your skin in a way that made you squirm, only at first in resistance.

“What’s such a pretty thing like you coming wandering into my home?” he hummed, idly, as though he’d forgotten that you can’t answer him with his hand over your mouth, leaving you to fight back a smile as his tentacles hit sensitive flesh, and fighting further to stifle your laughter and failing. “Are you h—” he paused, suddenly, his seductive question cut short and you knew you’d been caught, your grin beneath his hand growing as he freed your mouth. You were still trying to restrain yourself when he asked, incensed, “Are you laughing?”

“You’re the one tickling me!” you accused, giggling while you spoke—and as another one of his tentacles curled covetously over your collarbone to tease at the the tie of your swim top, you jolted. Another peal of laughter graced him from you while he shook his head, all amusement.

“You really are just the most sensitive creature alive,” he hummed, willing his body to pause in its exploration of you, but pressing affectionate kisses to your throat, your jaw, your cheek.

“You can’t judge me for it, Azul,” you played up the way you were whining, wriggling in his grasp, pouting. “I’m helpless, can’t you tell? It’s unfair.”

“Oh so now you want to play your role,” he hummed, a soft huff of laughter on his breath. “And you were the one saying you had difficulty getting immersed.” His faux petulance pulled another little stream of giggles, leading you to nuzzle a little more towards him, which he couldn’t help but smile at, pecking your lips before he asked, “Done being ticklish?”

“Only if you’re done tickling me,” you replied, and his hand slid back up to your cheek, turning you to look towards him, to let him run his thumb over your lips.

It felt strange, to see the way his expression morphed, trying to play into the role of the one who takes from others, the one who gets what he craves, hiding under myriad disguises his role as one who simmers in his wants when it comes to you.

“Such a sweet little thing, mm? Do all humans wander as much as you do?”

“I—I was curious.” It was funny—suddenly you did feel rather small. Something in his words, his tone, the way he was curled up all around you, touching you, clinging to you, covering as much as he could—it was a novel experience, feeling small, but it wasn’t a bad one by far, at least not with him.

Still, though, his displeasure, written plain on his face, made your heart twist—your excuse wasn’t good enough, clearly.

“And your curiosity lead you to intrude on my home.”

“I—I didn’t—”

“Surely you don’t believe me to be so stupid, do you?” he hummed, arching an eyebrow. “You’re not the first human to come here for one.”

“F-for—”

“A deal.”

All his tentacles pulsed around you at the word, drawing a gasp as they began moving again, some of the larger suckers now beginning to catch onto your skin as they held you still.

You drew in a sharp breath, feeling them begin to work marks onto you, flushing as you suddenly feel very much like prey in his grasp.

And for a moment, you stood just like that, trying to restrain the way you shivered at the movement of his tentacles, the intensity of his pretty blue gaze, the movement of his thumb over your lips, tried so very hard to settle back into the role you were playing, hold back on your want to kiss him. Only for him to suddenly pull away, releasing you from his grasp, save for one, solitary tentacle winding up your forearm. With a firm insistence, he dragged you through the water, further into the darkness of his home. Eventually, he stopped, your eyes adjusting enough to the lack of light to see that he had settled himself onto a worn-away hollow of rock, one that looked almost like a throne when he settled onto it. He pulled you over another couple steps, to allow you to settle onto another, smaller stone seat.

All the while, that tentacle remained curved on your arm like a shackle, trapping you before him as king when he asked, “You came here for a reason. I’m not so cruel as to turn you out for simply surprising me. So tell me what you want, and perhaps I can help you.”

Your heart pounded. It wasn’t a request, you knew that from the way the tentacle was wound around you. You were trapped by this point. Your gaze turned back to the light drifting lazily from the rest of the world in the main cavern, but you were anchored in your seat in the dark with him.

He could feel your pulse from where it was wrapped around your wrist, you knew it from how the sucker was fluttering over it, this close to trying to worry another mark onto your skin. He was smirking at you, waiting for you.

“There’s…there’s a man on the surface.” Your eyes flicked over to find him staring back at you, amusement written all over his face, an eyebrow arched, “He’s wonderful, and everything I could ever hope to love, but I know he doesn’t…I know he doesn’t see me. Not—not like that at least. I made a mistake in how I approached him at first and it—it colored everything wrong. I—I was hoping you would be able to help me get him to—to look at me.”

He hummed, tilting his head, considering you, your story—you could feel the way his gaze landed on you, making you squirm well before you met his eye. “You’ve exhausted every other option before coming to me, I assume?”

“I tried.”

“Well, he sounds like a waste of a man if he can’t—”

“No!” Your vehemence surprised him, but you stuck to it, looking down at your hands, “He’s—he’s smart, and he’s beautiful, and he’s so passionate about so much it makes me smile just to think of him, it…” You trail off, softening your voice, warming it when you meet his eye to murmur, “He means everything to me.”

It has the result you wanted. Even in the dim light, you could watch the splash of color paint his cheeks when he suddenly pieced together that you were talking about him. The slip doesn’t last, though it does make you have to stifle a giggle when he cleared his throat before saying, “Regardless, if the fool can’t even look at such a prize as you and see you, well. Is he even worth the trouble?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I had my doubts,” you answered, easily, and he hummed.

“Very well, then. I suppose if you’re so certain, then there needn’t be any hesitation on my part, either. So—in terms of payment for services to be rendered—”

“I have—”

He raised a hand, cutting you off. “I have no interest in any valuables—and I’m certain you could ascertain by now that I have no interest in surface dweller’s money. What I’m interested in is a service of your own.”

The confusion that fluttered over your expression seemed to please him. “What…service?” If it was something to be done down here, surely he has any number of merfolk as customers—did he need something from the surface?

The question brought a smile to his face, languid, relaxed, and a few more of his tentacles, eager in their intentions, began seeking where you sat, curling idly at your ankles, up your shins. “You see, I’ve always had some rather specific curiosities regarding humans, curiosities I believe you can provide an answer for.”

“You want…information?” The trade confused you, it seemed like such a light cost.

“In a manner of speaking, yes.” The answer would have come as far less confusing were it not for the way his touch squeezed at your limbs, covetously. “But what better way to learn than hands-on? What better way to satisfy one’s wants than to simply…touch?”

Your face dropped in realization. “Y-you mean…”

“In exchange for the adoration of your beloved on the surface, tonight, you’ll offer your body to me until I am entirely satisfied,” he murmured, his lips quirked as his eyes dragged over you. “In both my curiosity and in my…other wants.”

“Oth—oh.” You knew you were flushed at the implication, and he was grinning, playing his wicked role eagerly.

“Such a small price to pay, surely? After all, I have every intention of ensuring you enjoy it, too. And your lover, he would never have to know.”

You paused, trying to wrack your brain for anything else you could do, but he had laid his terms out plainly—if you wanted his help, he wouldn’t accept anything other than this, and you had no room to bargain.

In a flourish, he produced a piece of parchment and a pen for you. On it, written in a practiced hand, were the terms of your agreement, laid out plainly, in the same wording as before.

(You spotted the slight shake in his handwriting in an instant—he must have drafted this well before you’d come here for this, had he been excited at the time? As excited as you felt right now, having to stifle your smile?)

All you needed to do was sign…

But you paused before pen hit paper, and he sighed—you knew in an instant that he spotted your indecision. “It seems you’re hesitant after all.” Before you could blink, the contract was back in his possession, well out of reach as he wandered away towards some alcove deeper in his home. “I suppose you’ll simply have to wait for your clueless lover to finally piece his wits together—if he even does that. Such a shame.”

“W-wait!”

He paused, eyes tracing languidly back over towards you, over his shoulder, eyebrows raised gracefully. You clenched your jaw—he knew he had you, hook, line, and sinker.

Still—you didn’t have another choice.

“You’ll—you’ll listen to me if I tell you to stop?”

His eyes softened, no small shimmer of mercy from the one who just moments prior negotiated the price of your body. “Of course. I promise.” The words held weight, coming from him.

“And—you won’t hurt me?”

“I have no interest in hurting you. Quite the opposite.”

“…Give me the pen.”

And he was back in an instant by your side, contract detailing your deal opened to show its entirety. With one arm around you, he offered a pen, the other the paper.

Your eyes flitted over the words on the page once more as you slowly lifted the pen, and you, finding it to your satisfaction, signed your name.

And his smile only grew. “Thank you for your patronage.” As the contract was stolen away by one of his tentacles, the pen by the other, he took your hand in his to press his lips to your skin, leaving you shivering as he trailed his lips up. Only when he reached your shoulder did he murmur, “I believe I’ll be taking my payment now.”

He was on you in an instant again, a mirror to how he pulled you tight against him when he first saw you wandering about his home aimlessly, only this time, his hand had decided to busy itself to pulling at your clothes, untying things in a rush, all pretenses gone in favor of hunger in his touch. His tentacles were no less wanting, pulling at you, leaving more red marks up your legs and over your stomach as your shorts were shucked down and top untied and unwound from your body by his wanting hands, leaving you dizzy in the sudden way you were laid bare for him.

“Wait—,” your words choked in sensitivity as a tentacle traced over your collarbone, but to his credit, it took little more than that and a moment to process for him to pause, to give you the second it took you to draw in a shaky breath, look away and murmur, “P-please be gentle?”

He blinked, surprised by the request, but his scheming belied something warmer when he murmured, “As gentle as you like, pretty thing.” His hand caressed your cheek gently, guiding you to look back towards him—letting his lips meet yours.

His words and his actions felt separated, the way he kissed you every inch of that hunger that his stilled limbs no longer betrayed—you almost wanted to laugh, the role all but abandoned in favor of finally having what he wanted. You would have laughed were you not responding just as eagerly.

When finally he pulled away, your eyes fluttered as you leaned closer to him, leaned in for more, only to gasp when one of his tentacles made sudden, unapologetic contact with your inner thigh again. Only this time, the way your legs were already trapped made it impossible for you to shut them against the touch, only shiver as he trailed teasingly closer to his prize. His arm around you, trapping your arms tight against your body, left you helpless despite your struggling against him.

He could feel how your pulse raced when he pressed his lips to the skin of your throat, feel the way your head tilted to give him more access to trail kisses, to nip when his tentacle finally made contact with you, gliding smoothly up and down your heated core.

Your lips pressed tight together, muffling your whimper at your throat.

His response was immediate—his teeth sinking into your shoulder in warning, releasing that noise. He kissed the injury softly when his teeth released you, leaving you shivering in his hold, trying to press your hips closer to his touch. It was clear that he just wanted you to showcase every sound you make, to refuse to hide from him—just what he liked.

In spite of your own inability to do so without embarrassment melting you far too quickly into someone who wants to, needs to hide.

But the issue was, of course, that he offered you no way to hide. You were trapped, exposed for him—you were the focus of every one of his senses in the hopes of teasing you to the point of getting you shaking for him, exactly how you were.

So all your best intentions to mute the sounds of your enjoyment to him while he was focused on tormenting you were laid to waste the moment he made contact with your clit, leading you to gasp—and leading him to react, far too quick for you to counter in any way before two of his fingers were in your mouth, keeping it, keeping you open for him.

You whined at the sudden exposure, the realization you wouldn’t be able to hide half as easily anymore, and he, the picture of affection despite the debauched nature of what he was doing to you, pressed myriad kisses to your hair, your burning cheeks, your throat, while his tentacle kept swirling around your clit. The slow, measured pace which at first felt like too much on the little bud, slowly became too little—not nearly enough for you to be pushed anything closer to what you already felt yourself aching for.

You ran your tongue over his fingers, dipping between them for a tease, and you felt him shudder, the suckers that were on your body fluttering with the motion, before some few began to start focusing on leaving their marks.

You were going to have constellations of his touch left behind when he was done with you, stars for him to plot with only slightly apologetic kisses afterwards. But you couldn’t even care—not yet, at least. No, for the moment, you were too busy trying to aid that slippery tentacle over your clit, increase its lazy, idle pace. Another of his tentacles wound up your body, curling over one of your breasts to squeeze at you, playing with your nipple—you tried to arch more into his touch and his arm around your waist suddenly tightened, pinning you right back against him.

You whined pathetically against his fingers, and he couldn’t help but coo his sympathies in response, “Poor thing, is even this too much for you?” knowing full well the way you would wriggle, struggling to try and free your mouth enough to say every needy thing you were thinking, begging for.

It’s not enough. Please, more.

But his fingers stayed stubbornly rooted in your mouth, playing in the slick of your saliva, pinning your tongue into place much the same way he had pinned the rest of your body into place against him. Frustrating as he was, as his chuckles were, his touch was laden with affection, pressing kisses to your cheeks, your ear, your throat, his suckers dotting hungrily over your skin. Denying you any answer that might prompt him to pity, to offering you relief.

You knew you were shaking when one of his tentacles finally reached up to your core to start playing in your slick—you knew that you were wriggling your hips towards his touch, in spite of the way his strength pinned you back to him. You couldn’t help the soft, pleading noises leaving you, couldn’t help the way you struggled against his grip for more, couldn’t help listening to your body’s desperation.

You sucked in a breath when the tip of his tentacle dipped into you, freezing, hoping to coax him further into you.

Whether it was pity or him giving into temptation, he eased his way into you slowly, squeezing his way in through your slick, finally filling you.

All at once, the physical relief of simply that struck, feeling the way his tentacle moved inside you to better hit your sensitive spots, and you went lax, the way you writhed before reduced to placid shivering against him—a fact which left him pleased, if the way his lips curled at your shoulder was any indication.

“Yes…such a sweet thing,” he practically purred as you let him have his way, his steady pace over your clit, the new sensation of his tentacle lazily curling inside you, widening you, stroking incessantly over the sensitive spot inside you.

You whimpered and he hummed, softly, curling his limbs further around you, squeezing you like a breath, layering suckers over your nipples to taste your skin, and leaving you completely and utterly aware of but one thing—him. His touch, his voice, his teasing, him filling you up, playing with your clit in a way that shot sparks of pleasure up your spine.

You wanted to call his name, you wanted to kiss him.

You wished you could beg for him, but all you could do was lean into his lips when they touched your cheek, pouting, trying to catch his eye to plead for more..

Slowly, as he moved in and out of you, as he laved his touch over your clit, you could feel tension beginning to return to your body, winding you tighter and hotter, a coil in your belly you couldn’t ignore.

Couldn’t ignore, certainly, but couldn’t do much anything about, with how firmly he was holding you still.

You settled for whining against his fingers again, trying to writhe as he held you tighter, trying to moan, “More,” around his fingers, squeezing around the tentacle inside you.

And that he seemed to enjoy, you squeezing around him spurring new movement, a shaky noise against your skin as a moment of tension seemed to squeeze through him, too—betraying the simple fact that he was far more affected than his controlled motions seemed to suggest.

Still, though, you were beholden to his pace—beholden to the way he wanted to stretch every motion, every moment out. You were his, after all, were you not? His to play with, now that your name sat on that contract, promising him your body to explore, to tease, to fuck until satisfied.

You would have your pleasure. But this was about his enjoyment of it far more than your own experience.

And he was so enjoying your desperate, indistinct pleads.

Enjoying himself enough that before too long, you felt something new suddenly touching your skin, slapping hot and slick against your back with a low, pleased hum from Azul. His cock had finally worked itself free from his sheath, and was free to writhe against your lower back for some friction he sought out, too, subconsciously, his hips working to try and provide it.

The feeling made you shudder and clench around him, your eyes squeezing shut to block from your sight the vision of his smugness, his teasing.

“I suppose this is your first…encounter of this variety with my kind?” He didn’t wait for you to respond before continuing, “Cum for me, pretty thing, and you’ll get to have every inch of me, just like you want, mm?”

And like that his pace increased, over your clit, pistoning into you, pushing right up against your sweet spot.

You had no choice but to scream, to wail around his fingers’ best attempts to muffle you, though even those best attempts were withdrawn, letting you try and fail to muffle yourself.

He didn’t let you thrash too much against him, strong enough, content enough to pin you to him and hush you, soothingly. He enjoyed it, you knew, when you whined, when you tried to break free of his strength, when your head lolled to the side to let his lips take their fill of your skin.

He enjoyed the sounds you made all the more when he didn’t pull away after your orgasm settled and every touch became pleasure bordering on pain.

“A—ah—Azul it’s too much!”

The slight slip of your role in your desperation to be able to breathe again under the building wave of pleasure you were drowning in wasn’t met with acknowledgement, he was too busy grinning at the way you struggled against him, kissing at the tears that gathered, hot and sweet on your lashes.

You sobbed in your relief when he finally eased up, that tension disappearing, melting you against him as you shuddered through the remaining aftershocks.

Softly, you recognized the way he murmured, “So good,” against your skin.

For a time, this was all—simply him holding you, floating idly through the water as your head lolled back onto his shoulder, your eyes trying to flutter open.

His cock wriggling at your back, hungry for your attention.

“Azul.” Your whine of his name couldn’t keep him from humming out a soft laugh as he broke character, shifted his arm around you to let you lift your hand to card through his hair. It was calming to you, and a brief reminder, amid the broken character of just how easily he bent to your whims in the most adorable way.

You tugged him closer to nuzzle against his cheek, and he relished it, leaning into your affections like an anemone tugged by the force of the waves, rushing into your pull without thought or question.

At least, for a time, before he pressed a kiss to your forehead, and extricated your errant hand from his hair, pressing a kiss to your wrist before wrapping you back up in him.

“You’ve been so good for me,” he hummed, his eyes lidded, his grin regaining a touch of an edge, like a knife, like a promise. “You’ll have me, now.”

He shifted, repositioning you with his strength a little further up, giving his cock room to slip beneath you, wriggling eagerly against the sensitive skin of your heat. You flinched, and his lips were on your temple in an instant to murmur those same, soothing hushing sounds.

In time, you relaxed, drawing in shaky, excited breaths as his cock slowly began to push into you, the spade-shaped tip catching your breath as it slipped its way inside you.

“So good,” he murmured again, though his voice had grown taut in his restraint, in how cautiously he entered you, wanting to keep from causing any undue discomfort. You whined, wriggling in his grasp as best you could to tempt him further into you, his touch making you realize how empty you felt.

When at last he bottomed out, you breathed a sigh of relief, even as you tried to not twitch, squirming at the way his cock still moved inside you, instinct bidding it to seek more friction.

You squeezed around him and he gasped, softly—your own instincts pushing you now to press your lips to his heated skin, his jaw, his cheeks, his lips when finally he turned enough to let you and he melted.

You moaned, freely against his lips, as even just this, even just kissing seemed to send his cock writhing inside you for stimulation. Still, though, you tried to pin your focus on him—the way he melted even without you being able to touch him, even with every chance for him to turn the tables, have you weak, pliant against him, he let you have this. He wanted this, and you wanted to provide, you wanted to distract him from his chosen role.

Of course, he wouldn’t let himself be for long—wouldn’t let you tear his control of this, of you from his eager fingers for very long, grabbing your cheeks to pull your lips from his.

You pouted, whining your displeasure while your eyes fluttered open. He was panting for breath, but his limbs, shifting like the tides, curled covetously around you once more when he murmured, “You really are so sweet to me. Such a perfect little prize, aren’t you?”

One more, chaste kiss to your lips before he tilted your head back—and through the slight opening he negotiated of your jaw, one of his tentacles took advantage, prising your jaw open further and pushing its careful, slow way into your throat.

Vaguely, the taste of your own slick registered on your tongue, and you realized that this was the tentacle he had stuffed into you moments ago, and that knowledge had you clenching on his cock again as his tentacle began to move, thrusting in and out of your mouth, toying with your tongue. You whined—for want of kissing, for embarrassment, for need, it didn’t matter, the sound was torn from your throat regardless, and Azul soaked it in gladly, pressing kisses to the corner of your eye, hot with tears, to your cheek, hot with want, to your throat, your shoulder, each dotted with a gentle little, “Perfect,” possessive and pleased.

Your tongue traced over one of the suckers on the tentacle in your mouth and he shivered, his cock pulsing inside you. And just like that he began moving, sinking deeper into you, curling into you harder to feel the way you squeezed around him. And when that wasn’t enough, in his mind, his fingers which had been previously in your mouth moved down to your clit—you squealed around the tentacle in your mouth, but it just pushed further into you in careful measure—leaving you shaking in your effort to break free, though you had no results for how he held fast to you, not letting you escape the pleasure he was subjecting you to.

From the years you had been with him, you knew the signs that he was trying to hide, knew that he was closer to cumming than he hoped to be, weak in equal measure for you, and to how long he had been waiting to indulge himself in your body.

You tried to sink into the illusion he was hoping to put on, wriggling in his hold to keep him content with capturing you again and again, softly punishing each slight with further touch—a harsh squeeze to your breast, his pace over your clit intensified, the pace of his cock inside you slowing, a bite to your shoulder. Any of it, all of it combined to make you whine, moan, sob. All of it pushing you closer to your own orgasm once more.

“You were made for me, weren’t you?” The question was too hungry to be idle, to sound as teasing as he hoped—it was like he was licking his lips with just the thought. “So pretty, so soft, so wonderful.” He hummed, pressing another kiss to the crux of your shoulder and throat to feel you shiver in his arms. “Temptation has never looked so sweet as it looks on you. You were made for me to fill, you—” his fingers sped up over your clit and he sucked in a breath, released on a soft moan as you squeezed around him—and the thought occurred to him, “You were made to carry my babies, weren’t you?”

He moaned again, though the sound was equal parts pleasure and faux mourning, trailing off into a chuckle. “I don’t know how I’ll be able to let you go after this,” he hummed, the lightness of his voice a direct contrast to the heavy, wanting way his tentacles and arms clung to you, filling you, making it so all you could feel was him. “You started this for wanting a man on the shore, but surely he could never make you feel this good, mm? Ignoring you as he has? And you promised that you’d satisfy me—perhaps I’ll never be satisfied with you. Perhaps I’ll—” the same image sparked in his mind that choked his voice off into a moan, his cock pulsing in you before he finished, “Perhaps I’ll keep you here forever, fill you with my cum, keep you all to myself.” The idea had you whining—tightening around him in a way that made him moan, but not lose any of his pride in the way you melted for him. “You like that, do you?” he asked, and you tried to squirm away, or at least give some response, but his limbs held you in place, and the tentacle in your mouth seemed stubborn to steal all responses past weak whimpers. “What a treasure you are, so sweet. That fool on the surface has no idea what he’s missing.” Tears beaded in the corner of your eyes again for him to kiss as he purred out, “Are you close, darling?” Desperately, you nodded, moaning around his tentacle, a sound that choked out as it delved deeper into your throat. “Would you like me to make you cum?” You tried again, and the noise drawn from you as his tentacle began to pull back was nothing short of raw need. Infuriatingly he was still so composed.

His touch retreated from your clit and you thrashed, his tentacle pulling out from your mouth, letting you plead, incoherently, “Please please please please fuck—pleaseletmecum.” You couldn’t free your arms from his grasp, couldn’t touch yourself—you were at his mercy to touch your clit and draw you over the edge.

You stopped struggling when you heard him moan, and saw, over your shoulder, him sucking on his fingers, savoring your taste—you felt him pulse inside you and you knew he was so close.

You whimpered at the sight, the sensations, and he opened his eyes, letting his fingers slip out teasingly before his hand caressed your cheek, saliva still hot on your skin while his hand kept your gaze pinned on him.

“What would you give me if I did?” his voice was heady when he spoke and you let yourself get drunk on it.

“Anything.”

He grinned, and it was like his eyes glowed, knowing he had you cornered. “Such a shame I couldn’t get that on paper…another time, perhaps.”

Part of you, terrified that he meant your orgasm would be delayed, forced you to take a breath, to try and plead your case, to beg for him—only for all that air to be choked still as you felt the tentacle previously in your mouth, still hot and slick with your saliva, make contact with your clit.

That glee lit up his expression again when he murmured, “Cum for me.”

It barely took any movement on his part over your core for him to send you over the edge, all but screaming at the sensation.

Your core squeezed around him, and his body squeezed back, leaving mark after mark over your legs, your chest, your stomach, everywhere he had layered his touch.

Now, though, his hips began to work, holding you in place providing the best possible leverage for him to thrust into you, sink you further onto him while he worked over your clit.

You didn’t even try to fight the overwhelmed sensation of your body sinking to his every demand despite the way you thrashed. You didn’t tell him when you began to get overstimulated, you wanted to feel that little sharp sensation of too much while he chased his own pleasure. You wanted him, and he gave himself to you fully, a curse abbreviated by his teeth sinking into the skin of your shoulder, hoping to contain his moans.

Spurts of heat slowly began to fill you as his cock twitched hard, jolting inside you as he fell into his pleasure. You squeezed around him instinctively in response and he gasped, all his limbs curling a little tighter, a little closer.

It ended on that moment, the short, magical scene you had written for yourself. It was done, and he was curled around you, shivering, clinging for a comforting spell where it was simply you and him, floating from the endorphins. It was another short moment before he felt himself enough to begin dragging you both towards the soft alcove serving as his bed, still inside you while turned you around, guided you to lay on him, to stay close to him as his tentacles reached out, still active enough to tidy up as much as possible. Tucking your discarded swimsuit close-by for you when you needed to get dressed, grabbing at the faux contract to remember to dispose of it later.

And then all his focus was on you as you flinched when his cock slipped out of you, returning to its internal sheath. “Are you alright?” You hummed an affirmative, drawing closer to him, lifting your arms up to wrap around him, wanting to get your fill of finally being able to touch him, to cling to him, as opposed to being clung to, sinking into the warmth of his skin.

His hand traced up and down your spine slowly. “My pearl, so sweet to me.”

“I’ll bite you,” you mumbled, flustered at the praise even with your face half-buried in his chest—it just meant you could feel the way his laughter buzzed through him. “Now that you’re not in my throat.”

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No,” you replied, easily. “If I need a few cough drops tomorrow I’ll take ‘em.” You grinned, slyly, tilting your head up to make eye contact with him. “Worth it.”

Now it was his turn to shy away from your flirting. “If you need a few cough drops tomorrow I’ll see if I can make something better for you.”

“For a price?” you teased at him for the role he played, the role he still plays for all of creation but you and a select few others.

“For you, nothing at all…though perhaps a few more kisses.” You smiled, starting on your debt, kissing over his chest affectionately as his hand reached up to where he stowed away the prop contract, far from anything actually bound to his magic, looking over it again idly and barked out a laugh. “You actually signed your name.”

Your eyes flicked up from your business kissing at his skin. “Mm-hm.”

“You know I could have made this an actual contract. What would you have done then?”

Your eyebrow quirked at the dare in his voice. “Oh no, you’d have to promise to make yourself love me in exchange for wild sex, whatever would you do?” you laughed. “I did read it over, love, I know better than to just sign something, even if it is a scene with you.”

His eyes warmed with a flash that looked almost like pride before one of his tentacles curled around your calf, his fingers beginning to trace idle, meandering circles up the skin of your back. “I believe the worry is more for you, dearest—you signed a document with your real name, therefore, you promised to stay here until you satisfy me fully.”

The teasing in his tone wasn’t missed—you imagined he expected you to flush at the implication, at the imagining of a long night spent with you wrapped up in him, his touch everywhere, overwhelming you in the best possible way.

He seemed to underestimate how much you wanted that.

You slowly curled yourself up onto shaky hands and knees to crawl a step or two up before you settled onto his lap, throwing your arms over his shoulders before you pouted, “Are you not satisfied?” You tried not to smirk at the way color once again flooded his cheeks after a moment of processing your question, at the way his brain stalled having you so close yet again. His hands found their place on your hips out of instinct, his tentacles beginning to curl their own way over your body again as you leaned down, tracing your nose over his throat, prompting him to tilt his head to the side, exposing more of himself. “Do you want more, Azul?” A kiss on his jaw, another on his pulse to feel the way it fluttered, you let yourself be pulled back slightly as one of his tentacles wrapped around you, coiling around your torso, up between your breasts, over your collarbone, his suckers fluttering over you, tasting you, marking you again. You let him recover for a spare moment, lifting the end of his tentacle to press a soft kiss to it.

You opened your eyes to see his pinned to you. “You are…” he trailed off on a laugh, reaching up to trace a hand over your throat up to your cheek for you to lean into. “You are a temptation.”

“Is that a nicer way of saying I’m a menace?”

“No. It’s entirely separate.” You laughed, and he lit up, reaching to pull you down again as his touch layered over your body, intent on holding you close while he kissed you—soft, warm, all the love in his eyes just for you.

And all his attention content to be pinned on you for a little while longer.

#azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #cw tentacles #tw dubcon #this is smut #🐙-🪙#bitch-gray-writing

141 notes · View notes

katsukikitten · 3 years

Text

Part one. Master list for plus one can be found here.

Just a nice fic I decided to write for fun. Please enjoy!

Asshole!

He was nothing but a huge, giant fucking ASSHOLE for the entire two years the two of you were dating and he decides NOW is a good time to break up with you?

Two days before your cousin's wedding and over TEXT MESSAGE?!

That fucking asshole.

He knew how you felt. Exactly how you felt about going alone to your cousin's wedding after your family begged to meet your boyfriend and teased you for "probably making him up." Which hell, he may as well have been made up considering how absent he was in the relationship. Using work as an excuse to come home late but forgetting to turn off his snap location when he showed up at the bar.

So you did what any rational woman in her upper twenties would do.

You drowned your sorrows in booze, tonight red wine as it was the only thing around, and you scrolled through your socials in hopes of distracting yourself from your suffering.

Alas the devil that is Instagram only amplified your sadness and irritation. Showing couple after couple, your friends on hikes kissing on the mountain top, kissing in the flickering light of candles at a fancy dinner or, worst yet, getting proposed to. The video showing her in hysterics screaming, "YES I DO I DO!"

And it feels terrible to feel this way. Especially about your friends, the people you love and want to support, still it stings. You hadn't told anyone about the breakup, you weren't even sure your friends even remembered that asshole's name.

A teardrop lands on your screen, magnifying all the magical lights of the led beneath the glad. You wipe away the tear and with that the feed refreshes. A new post has come in at the top, Res Riot's official account.

Kirishima stands with a fat white cat in his arms. He dwarfs the animal with his large stature that looks larger as he still has his Red Riot gear on. The caption reads something along the lines of "missed my precious baby."

Red wine is a dangerous thing as your body acts on its own. You go to his page to hit the little arrow to DM him. Typing out and backspacing your message as you struggle from the booze, you decide to say fuck it and use the voice memo feature. Before you know it your sniffling voice is playing back to you after you've hit send.

"My ex broke up with me before this stupid wedding. It's in two days and my family is going to roast me big time when I show up alone. They think I made that asshole up. I don't know why I'm even in your dms. Your account is probably run by some dick head who can't even capture your kindness. I guess I'm here cause my first thought seeing you on my timeline was Red Riot has always been my hero…"

Ugh totally fucking cringe.

There is no surprise as you see the three normally ominous dots pop up, probably his social media manager about to ask you to stop your "advances" as Kirishima is too busy to date and he'd hate to block you or some other bullshit.

But there it is a surprise to see a little bubble with the play button and some vertical lines in various heights. It takes your sluggish brain a moment to realize you've been sent a voice memo. Odd. Your thumb smashes the screen faster than you can think and a deep voice rumbles through the speakers of your phone.

"Actually I run my official and personal socials. And I'm sorry to hear about your ex doll. He sounds like a real ass. I'll be your hero, I'll go with you to the wedding."

Your heart stutters, no way, no way in HELL this was Red Riot. You had read about the horror stories before or pervy account managers taking advantage of women who so desperately wanted to talk to their hero.

Hell, it's happened to Dynamight plenty of times.

You swallow quickly but the bile rushes up your throat. Not just from the anxiety of a possible con but from drinking an entire bottle of wine with nothing on your stomach after months of sobriety. Quickly you stumble to the bathroom, abandoning your phone on your bed. You barely make it in time to praise the porcelain Gods before you fall onto your back. Looking up at the light in your cramped bathroom, the orb doubles and spins as you feel the Earth turning on its axis. You curl into your side using your bathmat as a pillow as you drift off into sleep, totally forgetting about the voice memo on your phone.

As you sleep peacefully on your memory foam bath rug, Kirishima settles into his nightly routine. One giant hand grabbing strands of long dark red hair into a towel while another sits snugly around his Adonis belt and the thick, black happy trail that follows up the center of his abs before spreading out onto his chest. He tosses the towel over the open door of the bathroom before sitting in his favorite armchair with phone in hand. Diamond, his beautiful white cat he rescued a few years ago, jumps onto the arm of the chair, purring loudly when Kirishima's free hand scratches her ears absentmindedly.

He chuckles to himself as he realizes exactly what he's done. Acting on a feeling instead of logic all because he heard a "damsel in distress." Starting off his rare vacation with spontaneity starting with an impromptu date with a stranger. He really isn't sure what you look like and it's obvious your handle doesn't have your real name in it, just PrincessPeach with some random numbers at the end. He takes the time to scroll through your profile. Seeing pictures of food, of many sunsets, a friend's dog that guest appears often, your own cat and plenty of strays.

It takes him a while before he sees a photo of you. His heart stutters in his chest as he looks you over. Laughing with a friend, soft lighting from strings over head that blur like little fireflies. Your smile is wide, half hidden by your hands as your eyes seem to smile with you. Sparkling as if they held stars.

For a moment Kirishima forgets how to breathe, it isn't until Diamond jumps down from the armchair does he inhale. He smiles softly to himself before he drops his towel, puts his phone on charge and promptly falls asleep in his bed.

Kirishima rises before the sun even has a chance to filter through his blinds. He sighs softly, getting up to a sitting position disturbing a fluffy white ball that lays beside him.

"Mmrow." Moon stone eyes blink slowly as they look at the mountainous man hogging the bed.

"I didn't mean to wake you sweet baby." He says softly, going to pet the soft white fur only for her to get up stretch and give him her butt before plopping back down.

"I know, mean ol' daddy woke you up too early again." He says softly, his hand falling onto her back before he rises from the bed. Fishing for his running shorts, socks, headphones and shoes. He makes his protein shake, leaning on the counter as he drinks it, looking at how you read, or better yet, listened to his message but still no reply. It was late and there was a small slurring of your words, he figures you've passed out. He just hopes you're okay.

His run goes as usual, up before anyone else unless they were the normal avid runner. Passing by the usual array of people. An old man holding onto his youth by jogging through his daily five mile morning run, Kirishima knows he runs another five in the evening while the sun is setting. He hopes he can embody some of this man's commitment when he is older. Then he passes a middle aged woman, who gives him the biggest smile as she pases, jogging backward to send him a wink before plowing ahead. Occasionally he'll see a running group or a few teens training to be heroes, they always ask if they can run his route. "It's long." He always warns in a kind, warm voice. They assure him they will be fine so far only one other person could handle his 12 mile morning run. A young woman in her second year of hero courses at UA. Since then Kirishima put in a word with his boss and so every time internships roll around she's in the office.

By the time Kirishima is rounding back towards his high rise apartment, the city begins to stir. Slowly waking as men and women in business suits rush towards the train, parents flinging open the doors or curtains fussing at their children who cling to an extra few minutes of sleep before school.

This was always his favorite part of the run, not because it was almost over, oh no it was because he had a chance to glimpse at everyday life. Of nine to fives, of school hours and after school hangs outs at snack bars or the library.

What most would call the mundane but Kirishima would never call it that. It's why he worked so hard to protect it.

Diamond greets his sweaty form at the door. Glaring angrily with her moon stone eyes. Tail swishing before she goes to the kitchen by her bowl. Waiting impatiently.

"I'm not late, sweet cheeks." He coos, and she glares, "I know I know. You're hungry now."

He opens the fridge, gets out the highest quality food there is and places it on her dish, sure to keep it all in the middle or she'll claim her bowl was empty. He added a splash of water too since the weather was starting to get hot.

He sucks down a water or two, demolishes a protein bar and then heads to the apartment gym.

A few hours roll by and without hearing from you yet his worry over your well being begins to cloud the forefront of his mind. He pauses his music, picks up his phone and talks out a voice memo.

A loud DING echoes from your room and around your skull as you rise with a throbbing headache.

"Fuck." You hiss to yourself grabbing at your head as you shakily rise to your feet. Yanking the handle of the faucet to drink from the stream before looking at yourself in the mirror.

"Ugh." You grunt ignoring your swollen face and eyes, yanking the mirror door open to snatch at the bottle of aspirin. Swallowing THREE extra strength pills before slamming the door shut and turning off the faucet. You make your way towards your bedroom, more than ready to sleep the rest of your day away. Grabbing at your phone to charge it you see the push notification of an Instagram message from Red Riot.

The fucking Red Riot.

Internally you scream before it bubbles up your throat and escapes. You fumble to unlock your phone before looking that it's a voice memo.

Mortified you realize you sent one too. And first at that.

"Fuck MEEE!" You plop onto the bed. Nervous this second voice memo is probably about how you're a weirdo or something as you relive the memory of asking him to be your plus one.

Hesitantly your thumb hovers over the play button before you find the strength to press the cool glass. A soft thunderous voice plays out.

"Good morning sleepy head. I haven't heard from you yet, I hope you're okay. Be sure to drink some water and eat something greasy. Trust me, late nights with Denki and Bakugou taught me something. Since the wedding is tomorrow I'll need a picture of your dress for the color and style so I can match you Sweet pea. Contact me soon so I can know where to pick you up."

Did he… did he just call you SWEET PEA? Your heart pounds in your chest before it registers he's asked for your dress color and lowkey asked for your address. This couldn't be real. It sounded like Kirishima, his voice familiar from interviews you've watched but it very well could be a prank. Defeated you hit the small microphone and reply.

Kirishima hears a sharp DING in his headphones over his music as he finishes his set. He wipes the sweat from his face on his shirt giving the few people in the gym a lovely view of his sweaty and thick torso. One woman trips on the treadmill but it goes unnoticed by Kirishima. He pauses his music and hits play on the little memo. Your beautiful yet groggy voice comes in through his ear buds causing Kirishima to bite his lip. It causes such a flutter of butterflies in his stomach he has to listen a second time to actually hear what you said. Although he understand, he cannot help but feel hurt by your reply.

"How do I know you're not just some pervy guy using Kirishima's Godly looks to prey on unsuspecting people."

Your phone chirps at you from the bed stand and you growl reaching for it. You had hoped your message would have been clear. An unspoken of you know they're a fucking creep taking advantage of their PR job.

"What can I do to prove it to you, Sweet Pea?"

You hate how that cute nickname sends your heart into a somersault and your stomach in delightful knots. Still your doubt pulls a harsh tut from your lips before you reply.

Kirishima doesn't need his phone to alert him that you've messaged him, he's been looking at his screen for far to long without having to restart his set. He listens to your voice as if it were music.

"Fine, you wanna prove it to me so bad. Take a picture of yourself shirtless with the word 'Sweet pea' you love so much and send it to me. No photoshop I know what my favorite hero looks like!"

For over an hour you don't hear back and you figure you showed that perv.

But now you can't sleep so you nurse a water, door dash a "greasy" breakfast all before cranking your shower as high as it can go. Your phone dings and you try to ignore it. You really do but as the saying goes curiosity killed the cat. Opening the message you see a classic guy mirror selfie. Kirishima is clear as day in the photo, his large hand pointing to his bare, hairy chest where sweat pea is scrawled in his adorable handwriting. He winks at the camera as his kissable lips wear a dangerous, almost cocky eyes travel down his bulk following his happy trail that dives under a pair of black shorts, the best part of the view getting cut off by the vanity. At first you try to rationalize that this was fake but damning evidence was sitting on the vanity. A fluffy white cat in a diamond and ruby encrusted collar sits on the counter giving her owner an odd look.

His cat Diamond that everyone knows he loves and adores. Slick begins to collect between your thighs and especially so after you listen to the voice memo that comes through shortly after. His normally friendly and soft voice comes out a bit dark, husky as he says in a playfully annoyed tone.

"Now send me a picture of that dress, Sweet Pea."

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #bnha x reader

478 notes · View notes