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kingkatsuki · 1 year ago

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You knew all too well how dangerous it was to cross over the border into Shishitoren territory. You'd heard enough stories from the boys of Furin to know what a terrible, terrible idea it was. But the Furin jacket that you wore was like a protective shield around you, giving you the confidence to push the boundaries— and somehow you didn't think that you would run in to the number two in command, Togame Jou.

Thank you to @zorosprincess for the request. I had a lot of fun writing this one.

Pairing: Togame Jou x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, CNC, public sex, exhibitionism, marking, dirty talk, degradation, praise, rough sex, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, cumshots, not proofread.

Word Count: 4.2k.

The sun still burns bright as the sky changes from blue to a mix of yellow and orange, casting a majestic glow over the town as it nears sunset. You turn the corner as you step beneath the bridge at the edge of town, wrapping your jacket a little tighter around you as the breeze from the alley licks at your exposed thighs.

“You lost, little lamb?” You hear a voice as you stand by the illuminated vending machine, turning around to see Togame standing before you. His hands were shoved into his Shishitoren jacket and colourful lenses sat on the bridge of his nose, disguising his true intentions.

“You can’t be wearing those colours on this side.” Togame looked down at the Furin jacket you were wearing over your pretty sundress with disgust, “Your little Furin boyfriend should’a told you that.”

He approached like a lion honing in on its kill, ravenous and desperate to feast as he backed you into a corner like skittish prey. Your back met rough brick as he towered over you, sandals clinking against the uneven cobbles before he leaned down to catch your gaze.

Everyone knew if Furin stepped onto Shishitoren territory they were fair game— and that rule extended to you too.

“You know about the pact, sweetheart.” He murmured, warm breath fanning against your face as you looked up at him like a terrified sheep who had just walked into a lion’s den.

“So I’ll just be going then.” You tried to steady your words like Kaji had taught you, so no one would know that you were scared. But how couldn’t you be frightened as Togame Jou gazed down at you through tinted sunglasses as though he wanted to devour you whole.

With confidence in your actions, you decided to move, sweaty palms pushed yourself away from the wall as you began to make your leave. Slipping around Togame as you tried to speed up, pretty sandals sounding against stone, but it was no match for him.

“Hey, hey,” He reached out to stop you, a muscular arm weaving around your shoulders as he pulled you towards him. Your back pressed firm against his chest as his lips brushed the shell of your ear, “What’s the rush, sweetheart?”

He inhaled deeply, breathing in the saccharine scent of you as he tightened his grip with silent possession, “You already broke the rule, and it's not like you can take it back. So we might as well make the most of it hm?”

He reached up with his free hand to grab your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head in his direction as his lips hovered over yours. His warm breath stroked your skin as you found yourself leaning into his touch.

“And it’s not like I can just send you on your way back without punishment—” He cooed, “What kind of image would that set for your little Furin boys.”

Togame squeezed your cheeks together as your lips curled into a pout, leaning forward to press an uncharacteristically soft, lingering kiss against them. He spoke so slowly, and articulately it had your cunt betraying your mind as your hole clenched around nothing.

“I think I’ll have to make an example of you,” Togame continued, one of his large palms moved to cup your breast beneath the pretty sundress you were wearing. Moulding it beneath splayed fingers as he dipped into the plush of it, dragging a pretty whine from between your parted lips, “So they all know not to mess with Shisitoren.”

The thin strip of no man’s land between Shishitoren and Furin turf seemed to be the only safe place for miles, and yet somehow you’d decided to slip a toe over the line to find yourself being looked at as prey.

“You understand, don’t you sweetheart?” He continued, hands bunched into his jacket pockets as he sauntered closer. The clack of his sandals against the ground echoed through the air, “It ain’t personal.”

You found it hard to believe. The gang warfare between Shishitoren and Furin seemed to be deep-rooted in hatred, woven from years of deflecting members and infiltration. The latter had built huge distrust on both sides, and it wasn’t peculiar for Togame to think that Furin might stoop as low as sending in a pretty piece of skirt to try and bridge the divide.

“So, I’ll just be leaving then.” You watched as he pulled his sunglasses up to settle on top of his messy black hair, revealing emerald eyes that helped you try to gauge his reaction as you watched his cheeks curl into a grin.

“Ah, now you see I can’t let you do that,” Togame tutted, “You ain’t supposed to be on this side of town, so you can’t just say sorry and be on your way—”

“I’ll go back to the right side,” You smiled, “No one needs to know.”

“But what if you get lost leavin'?” He sneered, his chapped lips grazing the shell of your ear as you felt your breath hitch in your throat, “Ain’t no telling what kinda sick, nasty creeps could be out looking for a pretty little Furin princess.”

“It’s lucky I found you, huh? If it had been Choji it would've been way worse,” He cooed leaning down towards you, “Although, I guess that could make you think it’s okay—”

“Please,” You whimpered when you felt his hands slip lower, dragging down from your hips to smooth over your skirt, fingertips dancing beneath the hem as he brushed the naked skin on your thighs, “No one needs to know.”

“You gonna keep this our dirty little secret?” He snorted, dragging his knuckles along your inner thighs as your skirt began to bunch at his wrists, almost leaving you exposed you decided to follow pure instinct as you moved to leave, "You know I can't let you do that— because where would we be without rules?"

Your body jerked to the side to try and slip beneath his arms, but Togame was quicker. There was a reason that Choji had picked him as his number two in command, and it wasn’t just the fact that they were friends. He was a fierce fighter, with sharp reflexes, his hands were quick to subdue you. Curling around your middle as he pulled you back towards him, forcing your chest against the wall as you thrashed in his arms, teeth bared as he pressed his cheek against yours and your face smashed against the wall.

“Now where do you think you’re going?” He sneered, “I thought we were getting along.”

You gasped as he pressed the full length of his body against yours, his bulge pressed against the small of your back as he nuzzled your cheek.

“I was being so nice considering you’re the one breaking the rules.” Togame sighed wistfully, “And you had to go and ruin it.”

He was far rougher this time, his hands sliding down your body to hike your skirt up around your waist. The sudden movement had your breath hitching in your throat as you felt the cool evening air hit your exposed skin.

“You always wear these slutty panties, sweetheart?” He scoffed, “I bet this is the real reason you crossed into our territory huh?”

“W-what?” You gasped in shock at the insinuation, eyes wide.

“You wanted this to happen, didn’t you?”

“No, I would never,” You choked back a sob, feeling it lodge at the back of your throat as you tried to blink back the tears that threatened to spill from your waterline, "It was an accident, I promise."

Togame’s fingers slipped between your thighs to stroke against the satin, gliding across the fabric as he pressed against your crotch. His lips curled into a satisfied grin at how wet you felt beneath his fingers, pressing down on your slit as he felt you writhe into his touch as your body sought more friction.

“You’re awful wet for someone begging to leave.” Togame grins as the calloused pads of his fingers brush through your folds, feeling your wetness stick to his fingers as he deliberately strokes against your clit. The sudden movement has your hips jerking roughly as you accidentally press yourself against the bulge beneath his sweats, "You sure it was an accident?"

He’s rough when he curls his fingers in your panties, tugging them down your hips as they begin to fall when they reach your knees, exposing your slit completely as he holds a cheek to spread you open for him, whistling lowly as he takes in just how wet and puffy you are for him.

“Furin girls really have got such pretty pussies, huh?” He coos, his tone steeped in jealousy, “No wonder they’re all so protective of you."

You hear Togame shuffle behind you as he eases his sweats down just enough to free his aching cock, the length hot and heavy in his palm as he gives himself a solid pump. Twisting his palm over the head to smear his pre along it before taking hold at the base, easing his hips forward as he brushes the swollen tip through your messy folds.

He groaned when he felt the blunt head collide with your fluttering entrance, catching against it before pulling back. Almost slipping inside over and over as you found yourself spreading your thighs further apart to give him more space, pressing yourself back on his cock as you coaxed him in.

“Fuck,” Togame groaned as he rut his hips forward, feeling your cunt pulse against him as his swollen tip nudged your clit instead, causing you to cry out as you flailed against him in a debauched mess for him.

His grip on your ass became harsher as his calloused fingers made the supple flesh divot beneath them, prising you open for him as he leaned back to direct himself inside your velvety walls. Groaning at the way your cunt immediately began to throb and clench around him when he met the first ring of muscle as you tried to pull him deeper, feeling the ache of the stretch begin to flow through you. Your body betrayed you as your cunt drooled with slick, more than wet enough to take every inch of him with minimal prep as he felt you engulf him.

“Actin’ real slutty for someone that doesn’t want it.” He cooed, giving an experimental rut of his hips as your cunt eagerly took more of him in, your warmth engulfing him whole as he bottomed out. His heady balls were snug against your clit as he stilled for a moment to cherish the way your walls squeezed him, accommodating to his size as you whimpered softly.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ perfect.” Togame drawled as he began to pull himself from your heat, unsheathing his cock as he shamelessly looked down to see the messy sheen you’d left against him, “Takin’ me so well.”

You don’t expect him to be so rough when he properly thrusts inside you for the first time, stealing the air from your lungs as he gives you everything with a husky grunt. Forcing your body harder against the rough brick as you cry out, louder than intended as his lips graze your ear.

“Better be quiet unless you want someone to hear,” He sneers, chuckling when you do the opposite when he gives another harsh thrust, “Is that so? You want people to hear you being fucked on Shishitoren cock? What would Umemiya say?”

Your face scrapes against the brick from the ferocity of his movements, before you have a chance to brace your hands to prevent it. But the pain is surpassed by the way his cock bullies its way deeper, his blunt tip carving you into the shape of him while he presses himself deep against your cervix.

Togame makes it difficult to think, as all you can do is stand there and take everything he forces upon you as he maintains a deliberately slow, rough pace. As though you’re not both standing out in the open— where anyone could happen upon you and catch you in such a precarious position and the thought has your cunt clenching deliberately around his cock as you try to decide whether that would make things better or worse.

“Oh?” He feels the pressure as his lips press against the shell of your ear, “You like that, huh? You like being fucked by Shishitoren cock?”

You found yourself submitting to him, resigning control as you let all the pent-up tension that had ebbed away at you go. The incessant pleasure coursing through your veins was beginning to consume you whole as Togame pulled the reigns, watching as you allowed yourself to give into your most sinful desires.

“Bet those Furin boys don’t make you feel this good, do they?” He continues driving his hips forward, the crude sound of skin against skin echoing in the desolate alley, “Gonna have you wandering back into ‘toren territory more often.”

Togame felt your body begin to shake from the pleasure that sought to consume you whole, his tongue stroked against the shell of your ear as he smoothed his palms along your sides. Moving forward as he changed the angle slightly before pressing his lips to your parted ones, your jaw hanging open as silent gasps racked through your body. Your head moving in tandem with his thrusts as he fucked into you hard.

"You gonna tell me who's jacket this is, or do I have to keep guessing?" There was a fierce snarl behind his tone that sent shockwaves directly to your clit.

You couldn’t speak, even if you had wanted to. The only sounds that left your lips were debauched whimpers and whines as he used you for his pleasure. Hot, wet tears began to prickle at your waterline. Clumping into your thick lashes before trickling down your cheeks, leaving messy lines of mascara in their wake.

“Aww, you cryin’?” Togame cooed, but there was no sincerity in his tone as he nosed one of the tear stains that marked your cheeks.

“I wonder what they’d say if they found out their pretty little Furin girl was being split open on my cock?” Togame pressed, his hand slipping around your body to press against the top of your mound, slender fingers seeking out your puffy clit, “You gonna tell them how much you liked it?”

“Answer me.”

“I— W-what?” You’re breathless, trying to remember the basic human need to function as he drives into you with precision, his hips knock persistently against the swell of your ass and certain to leave bruises as you bite back another whine.

“You gonna let Sakura know what his pretty little princess was doing on Shishitoren turf?”

“No— I wouldn’t, I won’t—”

“What do you think they’ll say when I send you back to Furin fucked into the shape of my cock with my cum spilling down your thighs?” He snorted, “And you’ve got no one to blame but yourself.”

You mewled at his question, your cunt answering for you as it clenched around him hard. The sensation had Togame grinning against your cheek as his teeth grazed your sensitive skin, keeping his rough pace as all you could do was stand there and take it. Your thighs shook from the awkward position as they threatened to give way, not that it would matter when you were pinned between the wall and Togame, completely at his mercy.

He made it difficult to think, consumed with pleasure as Togame fucked himself into your pliant hole. Battering your insides with each churn of his hips that drew more sultry noises from the back of your throat. Reaching one of his palms up to press it against your mouth as his lips moved back to press against your ear, feeling the same smug grin on his face as he tried to silence you.

“As much as I love all the pretty sounds you’re makin’ sweetheart, I ain’t someone who shares.” His voice held a predatory husk as he began to curl his hips, deliberately dragging the underside of his cock against the same spot inside you that would have you coming undone hard and fast as he sought to feel you cum on his cock, “Keep it down.”

You couldn’t, even if you tried. The thought of being caught horrified you, but the feeling of his cock dragging against your velvety walls so deliciously has you lightheaded, making it impossible to think as all you could do was stand there and take everything he had to give.

It was embarrassing how much you were enjoying this. Practically humiliated as you let the second in command of Shishitoren use you how he pleased, your body responding to him as your cunt continued to drool around his cock. Leaving creamy rings of slick around the base of him that matted into his pubic hair and smeared against your ass with every thrust.

Togame reached up to palm one of your tits above your sundress, kneading the supple skin as you cried out for him. Smirking at your reaction as he pushed the material down before watching your tits spill free, grabbing a handful as his fingers dipped into the plush of them. Leaning down to mouth at your neck, biting at the supple skin just beneath your pulse point before sucking hard, fully intent on leaving his mark.

“Don’t leave any marks.” You whimpered, feeling his fingers twist your taut nipples as you cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure.

“I think it might be too late for that—” Exhaling in satisfaction when he pulled back to admire his work, a dark patch beginning to bloom against your skin as he nosed the back of your ear, “They’ll all get to see what a slut you are.”

You tried to splay your hands against the brick wall to stop your face from grazing the rough cobble as your forehead knocked against it with the change of position. Causing Togame to groan behind you when he felt you push back against his cock, moving his hands up to squeeze your hips as he bent his knees for more leverage. Pushing himself into you over and over again, making you cry out for him.

“Come on, pretty girl,” He cooed, “I know you’re close. I can feel you.”

He was right, you were. The coil inside you was so tight it was almost painful, the pent-up tension hot and heavy as the dam inside you threatened to burst. Catching you off guard as Togame slid a hand between the apex of your thighs to search for your needy clit, catching it between his index and middle fingers as he began to swirl it from side to side as you dangled on the precipice of your climax.

“Wanna feel you cum all over my cock.” He urged you, deliberately focusing his thrusts on the same spot that had you clenching around him, fingers working your clit as you whimpered, “Come on, show me how pretty you look when you’re creaming.”

It was all too much, too intense as your eyes rolled back into your skull. Your lips smeared gloss against his palm as you cried out in pleasure as you found your end, coming undone as your cunt began to convulse around him.

“Oh fuck, good girl—” He grunted, continuing to fuck you through your climax as he felt your walls desperately trying to milk him of his release.

You couldn’t control your body as your legs began to shake, drool spilt from your lips and into Togame’s palm as he pressed your head back against his shoulder. Bouncing you on his cock as he used you for his own pleasure, his fingers still persistent on your abused clit as you tried to fight the feeling of another climax being stolen from you as Togame was unrelenting.

“God, you’re a fuckin’ mess, sweetheart.” He sneered, throwing his head back in a laugh as he forced you down on his cock.

Your tits bounced with each sloppy movement as he used you for his own need, your mind completely shrouded by debauched pleasure as Togame worked you towards another orgasm.

“You got tighter when you came,” Togame mused, his lips brushing your neck as he bent his legs to change the angle of his thrusts.

His voice was like the sweetest ambrosia as it sent shockwaves directly to your needy clit, reaching your hand down to press messy circles against it to try and alleviate the tension that knotted in your pelvis.

“You greedy thing,” He scoffed, watching as you teased your clit, “I haven’t even cum once and here you are trying to get yourself off again— I guess you really did cross the boundary to get this tight little pussy bred huh?”

Togame spoke so slowly, the soft timber only aided in your pleasure as you felt your body respond to the sound. Clenching around him in a feeble attempt to steal his spunk as you began to quiver, your second orgasm surging through as your fingers rubbed your clit raw. Desperately trying to chase that same high that had you crying out his name as he pressed a palm to your sternum to stop you from knocking yourself out on the wall. His hand moved higher to stroke along the column of your throat before he splayed a palm over your mouth to quieten the desperate, lewd noises that poured out of you from his movements.

“Jesus,” He tossed his head back in a laugh, “if I’d known this was what Furin pussy felt like I’d have crossed the boundary myself.”

Togame barely managed a few more deep languid thrusts before he was spilling his release inside you with a guttural grunt, his heavy balls pumping rope after rope as he filled you with his warm spunk. Groaning as he pulled back suddenly, unsheathing his cock from your greedy hole as he began to fist himself roughly. Jerking out the final few pumps of cum all over the back of the Furin jacket that you were wearing as he painted it with his release. Leaning forward to tap the swollen tip of his cock against the fabric as he coaxed out the final few beads of his cum before dragging his length against it to coat it in your slick too.

It was ruined — like you.

“That’s it,” He groaned lowly, “My good girl.”

You let out a desperate whine when you felt Togame pull back, your hands splayed against the wall to keep yourself upright as he unabashedly spread your cheeks open to watch your fluttering walls push some of his spend from deep inside your tight heat.

“You really are a mess.” He chuckled, letting his thumb swipe through the slick between your thighs before he gathered some of his cum on the pads of his fingers. Scooping it up he pushed it back inside your abused hole, causing you to cry out for him as you felt him press down on that sweet spot inside you.

“Stop teasing me.” You whined, shimmying your ass back into him, “You made me a mess! The jacket is ruined—”

“Hey,” Togame gave your ass a playful smack, “Shouldn’t have worn it if you didn’t want me to cum all over it, sweetheart. You can take it off now by the way — where did you even get it?”

You were already still surrounded in the lusty haze of euphoria that you couldn’t even process Togame’s questions, so unused to him talking so much and so quickly after sex as you tried to even out your breathing.

“I had to find something,” You smiled, turning your head to the side as you leaned towards him to press his lips against your cheek, “I didn’t think I’d be able to convince you to do that.”

“Why because I have such a hard time being mean to you?” He smiled, nosing the apple of your cheek.

“No,” You snorted, “Because you’re lazy.”

“Wow.” Togame deadpanned, “This lazy guy stayed in perfect character and had you creaming twice and that’s all you’ve got to say?”

“This lazy guy,” You turned to poke him in the chest as Togame took the opportunity to poke one of your exposed breasts in retaliation, “Is gonna have to clean this jacket now.”

“Ain’t no way I can be seen cleaning a Furin jacket, pretty girl.” He scoffed, “Just give it back like that.”

You gave him a pointed look as you pulled your sundress back up over your breasts, adjusting yourself so you were more presentable before Togame reached out to cup your jaw. Tilting your head slightly he noticed the graze against your cheek from where you’d pressed it against the brick wall.

“Shit, baby— I hurt you?” It was more of a question than a statement, leaning forward to press a lingering kiss against your sore cheek.

“Nah, I liked it.” You smiled at him as you leaned into his touch, reaching out to hold onto the opening of his Shishitoren jacket, “We should do something like this again.”

“Maybe,” He hummed before stealing another kiss, “But first you’re takin’ that jacket off and I’m fucking you in mine.”

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transboyswitchytales · 27 days ago

Text

Busy Woman

Governor Claire DeBella (Alpha) x Student Fem Reader (Omega)

Part 1,I'm so mature, collected and sensible Except when I get hit with rejection To turn me down, well, that's just unethical

Part 2, But if you need my love My clothes are off, I'm comin' over to your place

Part 3, I could accommodate, I'm flexible, so just tell me what you like

Sugar Mama Claire DeBella is in trouble with her mate, can she be forgiven?

SMUT WARNING (MDNI) 18+

My Masterlist

Alpha/Omega/ Mommy kink/ Power kink/ Sugar Mama/ SMUT / Possesive kink / Jealousy Kink / G!P / Scenting Kink / Licking / Knotting/ Cum Kink / Lack of Control Kink / Power Kink / Manipulation / Porno talk - AI / Coming Out / CNC if you squint / Vouyer kink / Cum Kink / Fictional Cum Inflation Kink / Impreg Kink / G!P /

(Glass Onion Fandom)

My Masterlist

Maybe for you, though, I could accommodate

I'm flexible, so just tell me what you like

You’d started to nest a little and you kept trying to stop yourself. You didn’t want to nest. But it was futile with this much Claire smell around you.

Claire had taken you back to the townhouse on Tuesday night.

On Wednesday: Claire had one of her lawyers handle the breaking of the lease and somehow you got an apology from your landlord and your full deposit. Which was fucking unheard of, you’d never gotten a deposit back. You didn’t ask Claire how they’d done it. You’d told Claire you would pay rent and she’d denied every chance you’d attempted.

All of your things were moved in faster than you could say ‘Political Crisis.’. Claire had an empty in-law unit down on the basement level where your furniture was now stacked…. and forgotten about. Boxes of nicknacks now felt empty and meaningless. But they were stacked in the forgotten part of the house next to a Peloton bike and a dusty row machine.

Claire moved fast, she had opened a joint bank account before lunch. And the number in it was terrifying, more comma’s in a bank account than you’d ever seen. And you’d refused to use it, much to Claire’s continuous displeasure. Claire’s housekeeper had stocked the fridge to your alpha’s specific instructions. All your favorite foods and comfort snacks were packed in the house. It would be sweet if it didn’t happen so fast.

You hadn’t broken things or run up her card. Claire wished you had done any of those things.

You were being cold and a bit aloof; distant was an understatement. And it was driving your alpha absolutely nuts. Claire didn’t know what to do. You’d never been mad at her like this. And she didn’t know how to fix it.

You stayed in your (and her) favorite room of the townhouse, her library. You read and write, and kept out of the rest of the house.

Claire told her team she’d be working from home all week, she’d been in her office for most of the day. She’d been scared even after being around each other, that your health would regress and get sick again. Even after you assured her you felt fine again.

But every few hours, she’d come in and check on you. You felt her worry, smelled the pheromones. You didn’t push your own back to calm her.

Claire would open the door, and you were reading in her favorite spot. Just like she’d dreamed of so many nights in the hauntingly quiet house. While she missed you.

You sat like everything she’d ever wanted when she’d dreamed of meeting her mate. She’d even bought that chair, hoping none day you’d sit in it with her.

And here you were, in the plush seat in the corner, surrounded by books.

Claire would walk over to you, and you’d flat out ignore her. But your mate would bend down and kiss your head.

You could tell Claire wanted to say something each time, but she’d turn around and walk out, always leaving the library door cracked open.

She also kept her office door open right next to the library, so you both could smell each other. You could hear her taking conference calls, zoom meetings; chattering about legislation and new problems. Her typing continues through the day, a gentle constant.

The pitter-patter of her fingers on keys filled the still mansion. It’s little clicks like Gene Kelly walking down a street in the rain. But you didn’t allow yourself to enjoy your mate's closeness.

You did feel a little guilty, ok, a lot guilty. During the calls, you could also hear the strain in Claire’s voice. The anxiety and longing didn’t leave her body for a moment.

She’d never had you this close to her, and yet you were so emotionally far. It was driving her crazy.

You held onto your irritation still.

Around five pm, you heard Claire’s office door creak. She padded down the stairs, opening the front door. You figured she’d ordered dinner.

You weren’t surprised when she walked back into the library. One hand holding the big plastic bag. The other, two upside-down wine glasses pinched together and one of her more favorite Napa Red bottles of wine. Setting it all down on the coffee table that had your cold mug of tea, the one Claire made for you at lunch. You hadn’t eaten the sandwich she’d made for you either. And Claire eyed it for a moment before pushing it aside.

The alpha dragged one of the other large-backed reading chairs across from you.

Your Claire was smart, she knew you’d not eat downstairs with her. So she’d cornered you in the place you were nesting. No running now, Omega.

Claire plopped down with more exhaustion than grace. Opening the small drawer in the coffee table she used the back up cork screw and opened the wine with practiced ease. Pouring it into two glasses and then setting it aside.

Claire opened the plastic bag, she was so damn smart. She’d calculated this.

She didn’t speak, just moved around the space. You did notice her inhaling a little deeper, and having a hard time not looking at you. It was bittersweet, her home finally smelled like you.

You were in her favorite room in the house. You were hers. And yet you were punishing her.

Claire opened one of the white cartons of chow mein pushed it towards you and you noticed she’d gotten it with the sweet pork.

Governor had attention to detail that was for sure. She’d gotten your favorites; dumplings, and her least favorite crab rangoons. You were curious now and you looked into the bag to see she’d bought two orders of the rangoons.

Yeah she was groveling. Claire was desperate. You had to hand it to her, it was better than flowers.

You reached into the container and ate one.

Claire tried to keep her face neutral, but you saw the little shift of relief and victory at you eating.

The two of you ate and drank in a combined quiet. Claire took it as a win, you didn’t push her away, you ate.

And she found the smell of you was intoxicating.

Thursday was your press conference.

You were told in advance by Claire what everything was going to look like. But it was still uncomfortable to say the least. Claire had never had other people around you while she was around. You both didn’t know how to act.

Claire and you were in your master bedroom, and people had sent over a lot of dressing options. You heard her employees and CNN reporters downstairs setting up lighting, camera, and sound.

You’d taken a shower and your hair was still wet. You were standing in a towel, staring at the rack of clothes next to the bed.

You looked at the clothes nervously. Not sure what to wear from the options. Your anxiety was growing as you wondered what outfit didn’t say ‘gold digging whore?’ but you weren’t sure if that outfit came in blue?

Claire came up behind you and grabbed your hip. You broke turning and throwing your arms around her neck. You put your nose on her bond scar and inhaled her alpha scent. She was sending comforting Mommy scent out, and it was doing the trick. Your heartbeat slowed, and you got dizzy and euphoric.

Claire was in her fluffy robe, no make up, her hair was blown dry. She looked raw and scared of what you were thinking.

Claire didn’t say anything, she just held you against her. You missed her hugs. You cuddled in the bed at night, but you hadn’t been as physically affectionate outside of that.

“You do not have to do this, I can tell them to leave right now,” Claire said, and it sounded sad, like she was making herself say it. But you heard the fear, felt it, smelled it. You knew she was afraid you were going to run, to leave her, to break it off.

The ultimate heartbreak for Claire DeBella.

And bond marks weren’t something to be undone…Claire would always be longing for you. In every room, her instinct would be to look for you, to smell the air for your signature scent.

Every omega would smell and taste stale like dead flowers on a grocery store tile floor. Nothing would ever come close to making love to you.

She’d never truly find love, it would be connections, but not like this. Nothing like this, not the intensity and the fever in which you loved each other. In truth, Claire knew she’d not date if you ever left. She’d probably have someone trail you, she’d lie to herself and say it was to protect you. To keep you safe, but she’d want photos…for proof she’d tell herself.

She’d look at the photos at night with a bottle of 30-year-old scotch. DeBella would turn deranged like Miss Havisham. Like a crazy stalker, she’d spend the rest of her days missing you.

Claire knew she wouldn’t let someone touch her after you, she’d masturbate to videos the two of you made. She’d inhale the clothes she’d steal of yours. Claire would never be whole again. Always wishing and wanting you.

You whimpered at the intensity of the change and Claire realized her pheremones had switched from comforting to downright terrified.

“I’m sorry, my love. I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry.” She said, and you knew what she was thinking of. Worst case scenarios.

You pulled back, and you felt her body grow tense. Like she believed this may be the moment her life fell apart. You couldn’t stand it one more minute.

“Claire, I’m not leaving you. We are forever bonded. I want to marry you. I’m not afraid of coming out on CNN. I’m not going to be mad at you forever. I’m just mad at you right now. I love you, you know I love you, right? You know I’m committed and won’t leave, right?” You ask, and Claire chews her lip, and you realize she might not. “You silly alpha, you know I’m yours.” You tell her, and Claire moans involuntarily at the statement.

The smell in the air changes once more.

“Say it again.” She whispers the command, and you smirk for the first time since your fight.

“Claire DeBella, I’m your omega. I’m your mate, I’m your whore. I’m all yours.” You say, and it’s got no nervousness, it holds conviction. It’s a fact, not something you’d just decided lightly. Something that stood tall in a forest for centuries or hard in stone in some foreign museum. You were strong in your love for Claire. And her body responded to you, to your declaration.

The older alpha grabbed you by the hips and walked you backwards until you were on the bed. You yelped but it was quickly cut off by feverish kisses.

Claire kissed you like she needed to bite you again, like one claiming scar wasn’t enough. Like she might need to call the camera crew in here so everyone knew who owned you.

You grabbed her thick, dark hair and pulled her closer.

Claire was all too eager to agree, closer was non-negotiable. Claire guided your body back further, until you were lying in the middle of the bed.

You broke the kiss as you felt her erection against you now, oh boy. Her robe parted and rode up to her upper thigh as she held you against the Tempurpedic twenty-two thousand dollar bed.

“Claire, we don’t have time-and” She kissed your bottom lip and then your chin and your jaw. She opened her mouth, and it was hot and we,t full of so much desire. Her breath tickling your skin before her lips seared your nerve endings.

You were powerless to resist her. How could you? When she was touching you and kissing you like that?

“Don’t care-” Claire said as she got to the spot just under your ear. Your hips bucked up, and she pulled the towel open, and you were bare under the Governor of Connecticut.

“I-I” You whimper, and your thighs betray you as they open. Claire smirks as she moved down the bed and licks your labia, not paying attention to your clit. Just tasting the slick you make for her, that you can’t seem to ever stop making for her.

Her mouth is creating obscene noises as she drinks from you. Your thighs open further and you are spread for her.

She pulls back and her mouth and chin are glistening and sticky. But Claire isn’t bothered, in fact the taste of you has her cock painfully rubbing against the rough fabric of her robe.

You cry out at the feeling of cold air against your cunt once more, her warm mouth was so good and you miss it instantly.

“My gorgeous girl, I need you. I miss you. I crave you. I’ll go fucking crazy if I can’t have you baby girl. Let Mommy drink you. Won’t you be good for me?” Claire says, and it’s deep in her throat with frenzied appetite.

You moan and whimper and it’s noises that a director would pay extra for an omega porn star to do. You don’t mean to, it’s natural, and it’s all for Claire. And her hips buck against the mattress. Pre cum oozing out onto the blankets and robe.

You see the movement, and your hands go to Claire’s neck and you push your hands under the robe. You are moving it over her shoulders, and she grins at you. Claire likes you needy, always needy for her.

“Tell Mommy what you want. I’ll give you everything, I’ll give you anything you ever ask. Just ask Mommy.” Claire says and you know she means it, if you asked for an island she’d buy it. If you wanted to adopt the late Queen of Englands corgi’s she’d have her team break into the fucking palace. Claire would do anything for you.

You bite your lip and make a whiny noise of frustration. You don’t know why, but sometimes you got so wantonly horny you had a hard time asking for things. It gave Claire great pleasure to coax the words out of you. She’d work you up and coo her Mommy voice at you until you were puddy.

Begging and lost to the sound of her cock making slapping noises against your body.

“Use your words hon. I’ll give you it, Mommy always gives you what you want. You have to say it.” Claire says and she goes higher in your inner thigh and she sucks hard at the skin. You bite back a scream and grab her pillow and muffle it and bite it hard.

Claire leaves a large hickey on your right thigh. When she’s done sucking she grabs the pillow and pulls it away from your face. Claire had never been ok with you hiding in the bed to stop the noises you made for her. Claire liked your desperate, filthy cries, and she wouldn’t be robbed of them. Not even with CNN downstairs, able to hear you. She didn’t care.

She was your alpha.

You were Governor Claire DeBella’s omega, her bonded mate. And she had every right to impregnate you right here.

You tried lamely again to tug at the robe. But Claire just shook her head and bent down and let her hot breath tease at your swollen cunt.

“Mommy, please, don’t do this.” You beg, and Claire smirks, she likes this game. You didn’t mean to give her exactly what she wants.

But that’s the thing about being mates, you just couldn’t get enough of each other. And you fit like two puzzle pieces, so when you moved one way, Claire instinctively moved with you. It was endlessly gorgeous and annoying. Your hips lift off the bed, and Claire wraps her arms around you and pulls you against her mouth.

Letting her flat long strong muscle wipe against your hole, up your slick heat and push your clit against her tongue. Before moving away. You grind your teeth and make a pathetic noise of disbelief.

“Don’t do that? Don’t do what, baby? You have to be more specific, my gorgeous omega. Don’t lick you? Well, that’s my right. I don’t know if you have much of a say in that. Besides, you are always so slick for me, your arousal just drips down your thighs. As your Mommy and alpha, it’s my job to clean you. I can’t let anyone else smell what you make for me, and me alone. You think that while we are on TV you will be able to keep yourself from ruining your dress? Or do you think you’ll leave a wet spot on the chair?”

You try to cover your embarrassed face, and Claire growls, it’s deep, it’s menacing, it’s a warning. You uncover your face and look at Claire’s flushed cheeks.

“I think I wasted time yesterday. I should have done this all along. You are mine, I take you when I want to. You lost the right when you let me bite you. I think I’m going to throw away your birth control.”

Your knees jolt and then almost close. Not from fear, but from overwhelming arousal. You need your thighs closed so your clit stops throbbing and you stop producing so much fucking wetness from your aching pussy.

Claire knows what she’s doing. She’s getting you desperate for her so that you beg. She didn’t need to wait long. You needed her just as bad. And these threats were just making your brain fog over, too horny to think.

“Is that what you want, little omega? You want your powerful Mommy to knock you up and not tell you? I think they can hear us downstairs, don’t you? Your cute little noises, I wonder if they’re recording. Do you think they know the things I’ve done to you? The places you let me lick and touch? Should I talk louder? Do you think they want to know about how I use the dildo you made from the mold of my dick to double penitrate you? That my knot swells from the very scent of your dirty thong in the hamper.”

You are humping the air and Claire’s cock is holding all of the blood and adrenline in her body. But the more she speaks the more thick the smell of arousal gets.

The towel underneath you is soaked but not from water. Claire has never tasted anything more delicious. It was like you were made for her taste buds. No wine, no food, no drug would ever be this good.

She couldn’t help herself, Claire dove her mouth back against your clit and she sucked. Before you could get close to any relief, she moved her tongue back into your tight hole. You claw at the blankets, and Claire grabs both your hands with hers. Threading your fingers she feels your bond ring and her cock twitches.

You were hers.

You gasp and then work very hard to make words come out of your mouth.

“Mommy please fuck me. Take your robe off, please, need your skin. Need you everywhere, all over me. Fuck me Mama, I’ll be so good. Please, I need to have your seed deep in my womb while we sit on TV. I can’t be without it one more second. Don’t do this, give it to me. I need your cock. I’ll behave. Please, please, please, please, Mommy please, please, Mommy please, please, please, please, please Mama.” You chanted, and Claire couldn’t tease you one more minute. She tore at her robe and threw it behind her.

Before grabbing the pillow you’d just used to try to quiet yourself. She stuck it under your ass so she could be sure to get the right angle.

You grabbed at her forearm to tell her not to use her nice pillow under your cum soaked pussy. But Claire smirked and you realized…..she wanted it to smell like your cum. God, you two were filthy, and you loved it. You smiled and blushed, but she didn’t have the strength to talk about it now.

She grabbed her dick and stroked it twice before smearing the tip up and down your puffy cunt. You grabbed her shoulders and pulled, and your nails bit into her creamy skin. But Claire didn’t listen to your dangerous hands.

She didn’t care that CNN was waiting for you both to go downstairs. No, Claire was going to fill you with her semen. She’d gone a day without being inside of you, and it had been a day wasted.

She pushed slowly until her mushroom tip head was engulfed in velvet heat. Claire tried not to roll her eyes back at the extreme tightness that had her cock feeling more loved and at home than anything ever had.

“Mama, go faster. I can’t wait. Please, I need you.” You beg, but Claire just rocks her hips slowly and pushes little by little inside.

“Mommy has to stretch you. Baby girl is so tight. But you live with me now. I’m going to train your holes to take me. You will always be ready to be filled by me. You are so wet gorgeous, no one gets this wet.” Claire puts one hand on your clit and collects more slick and puts her fingers in her mouth. Like she’s gone four seconds without the taste of your cum on her tongue and it’s torture, she’s famished.

“Please fill me, I want your cum to leak out of me. I want to smell like your cum. I can’t - I ne-” You ramble, and Claire knows what will help her mate. She pushes the rest of the way and your mouth opens wide. Claire bites her lip hard as she focuses on not losing her control and rocking into you like she’s feral.

Someone knocks on the door.

Claire doesn’t shush you, doesn’t help you.

“Governor, we are ready down here for you two to get your makeup done. What time do you think you’ll be down? Do you two need any help?” The polite person said through the door.

Claire grinned like a primal animal. She leaned down so that her nose almost booped yours. Your eyes met and she talked into you.

“Should I tell her we need help? Have her come in and see you like this? You do look like you need help baby, but not something anyone else can provide. Only me, your alpha, your Mama. Only I can ease this ache in you. But I think I should invite her in. Everyone should see what power really looks like. It’s having my sweet omega’s cunt forced open. It’s having you speechless as I force my cock deeper inside, in places no one else can touch. You are mine. She should see it, you look so pretty for me. Everyone would be so jealous.” Claire says, and it’s not quiet. And your body blushes all over and Claire rocks forward and the noise of your soaking wet pussy is LOUD.

“Claire, tell her to go aw-away. Please don’t let her see this.” You beg because, realistically, you know Claire wouldn’t let anyone come in….right? She was the most possessive, jealous person you’d ever met…But also, you wondered if part of her wanted an audience. To see how only she could touch you.

Claire used one hand and grabbed your throat, and you moaned entirely too loudly.

“Claire isn’t what you call me when you are begging me to impregnate you in our bed. Claire is what you call me when you push your thong in my suit pocket when we go to dinner. You aren’t allowed to call me that here. I’ll tell you what. I’ll answer her, if you moan out Mommy. I’ll give you my seed too.” Claire said, and it was a terrible deal. But you didn’t care.

“Hello, are you two in there?” The woman outside your bedroom door knocked again.

“Last chance, moan ‘Mommy’ or she’s going to see where babies come from. She’s going to see how the Govenor of Connecticut abuses her wifes sweet cunt with a room full of reporters a breath a way. I think she’ll take a picture, I hope she does. I hope she get’s to see the face you make when I do this-” Claire cut off her own rant by hitting your cervix and you gasp and tears fall as you scream out.

“MOMMY!”

That’s all Claire needs and she fucks you fast and hard, the sound of her balls hitting your body is so loud. You are sure the poor person is no longer outside the door, right?

You grab the sheets for help, but Claire grabs your hands and you hold on. It’s gorgeous, its raw, it’s primal, it’s romantic.

It’s fucking love.

Claire pants and her body tensens every muscle, and she pushes into you with unrelenting power. Claire knows before you do that you are going to cum.

“MA-A mMAA-” YOu try but she leans down and kisses you as you squeeze her cock so tight she can’t pull out all the way. You both cum form the intensity of your bodies colliding.

It hurts so good and Claire cums with almost the force of a pressure washer into you. It pushes against your walls and fills every bit of you. White hot and warm with that sticky feel. Your stomach bulges a bit at the pressure and volume.

Claire’s knot starts to swell. You tap her twice to alert her. Claire’s licking her top lip, and her body twitches with aftershocks.

“We-w-” You are shaking as you stutter out a warning.

Claire nods once in understanding.

“It’s so ha-hard not to knot you baby. I don’t-don’t even know hh-. It just starts to build and I can’t stop it. But you are right, we don’t-don’t have time. Which is too bad because I love being tied to you for hours. I have to pull out of you now.”

Your bottom lip automatically turns to a pout. Claire pecks your lips three times and lingers on the last kiss.

“I don’t like it either. It’s gonna hurt to not be inside you. Plus, the swelling won’t go down while we are sitting there either. You need to wear a pad, between the slick and cum it’s going to be hard for it not to fall down your leg.” Claire warns you, and you nod and shiver at her words. It’s true.

Claire’s knot is getting bigger, and she isn’t even thrusting into you. Her body just can’t help itself when it has you. You know she was stalling for you both, but you nod again, and she closes her eyes and grimaces as she pulls out.

You both clench your jaws as cold air and tightness make you both uncomfortable. White semen starts to ooze out of you, and Claire sighs at the sight. She leans down and kisses your pubic hair. Like she’s paying respect to her favorite deity.

You smile warmly and then throw your arm over your eyes.

“We’ll be down in a bit!” Claire yells loud enough that people can hear her downstairs. Claire grabs her robe and wipes up your thighs and then carefully uses the terricloth material to wipe around your swollen pussy lips.

She’s gentle, because Claire doesn’t have a bone in her body that would ever do you harm. Your body jolts every now and then without your permission. Claire goes over to the rack of clothes that were delivered for you both.

She pulls out a pair of trousers and a button down for you, setting them out onto the bed next to you. Before she goes into the bathroom and comes back out with a pad and more wet wipes.

It’s gonna be a long interview.

Friday

You were lying in bed with CNN on in the background low, the light illuminating the dim room. It was late enough that the room had a dusk glow. You were earring Claire’s boxers and an old warn hoodie. Your laptop and phone kept dinging with notification noises.

It was a good thing Claire had a security team because you couldn’t even open the blinds in the front room. Reporters were camping out outside the townhouse. That wasn’t the only new annoying thing.

You were being hounded online, Claire’s media team had been proactive, and you’d taken down most of your accounts via their recommendation. But you didn’t think they’d find you on Twitter. You’d been wrong.

Some comments were sweet. You didn’t realize how much the queer community was excited to see you both.

You’d expected the negative stuff, that wasn’t surprising. Lots of threats of violence, which was obnoxious. Claire had people filtering some of the more intense or creative threats.

But the amount of people who wanted to see you two fucking was ridiculous. The things they said were absolutely filthy.

Someone you’d worked with on a project in class had emailed you to ‘warn you’ about some tasteless websites.

Which is where you’d been for the last ten minutes.

One of these website had made a porno of you and Claire. Someone had used AI to put your face and Claires on two people fucking.

Your head fell to the side as you watched pretend Claire bending you in ways you weren’t sure were possible. Then she grabbed a bullwhip, your mouth opened in surprise.

You didn’t even hear Claire come in. She stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of you curled in bed like you’d always been there. But before she could appreciate you she’d heard moaning coming from your laptop.

Her anger flared and she walked over to the bed and grabbed the electronic and turned it to see what the fuck you were watching.

“What in the world?” She screeched and you jumped. Claire watched holding the laptop like it was offending her.

“I can explain!” You shrieked and Claire didn’t look at you but she stared at ‘fake you’ who was getting her clit whipped.

“You are watching AI porn in our bed with our faces on it?” Claire said but her tone was now more curious than angry.

“Uh yeah actually that sums it up. This isn’t even the worst one.” You said and Claire dropped the laptop and it kept making porno fake moans and she looked at you now.

“You’ve watched more than one?” Claire asked and her eyebrow arched.

“Yeah, it’s one of many. I was curious- AI is nuts! There’s one where I-”

“You remember our rules, right?” Claire interrupts.

“Claire! It’s not even real porn!”

Claire just shakes her head unimpressed and she bends over the bed and closes the window on your laptop before she slams the lid down and puts it onto the dresser. Before slipping onto the bed in front of you. She grabs both your hands.

“You are in trouble for what I just walked in on. But more importantly, are you doing ok?”

Claire had spent a lot of the day putting out the media fire that was her announcing your relationship. You’d been alone for a lot of the day.

“I’m totally fine!” You say too quickly and she tilts her head to the side and you cave.

“My love.” Claire says gently and you move so that your forehead rests on hers.

“Hold me?”

Claire hums satisfied, like the question is the sweetest thing she’s heard all day. She pulls back and lifts the fancy orange blouse off of her body before unzipping the pencil skirt. So she’s just in expensive lingerie. Before she crawls further onto the bed to her side and pulls the blankets back and you go to move ontop of her and she grabs your throat.

“Fuck.” You moan at the feeling of her firm grip on your neck. Stopping you in the hottest way.

“My omega gets so responsive. I was just going to remind you; no clothes in the bed. But if you moan like that, I won’t be held responsible for what I do to you.” Claire's smile is naughtily as she takes in your response.

You remember and you move back and pull the hoodie off and you didn’t wear a bra to bed. And Claire eyes your nipples before you give her the chance to tease you more you lay ontop of her.

Claire moves one arm down your back and puts her hand under your boxers so she can palm your ass cheek. She kneads your butt like a cat would a blanket. You find it comforting and close your eyes.

“Tell me about your day.” You say and it’s not a question and Claire clears her throat before she starts to tell you her day in order. You like the rumble of her voice against her chest as she tells you everything.

It takes about thirty minutes before she pauses. Your eyes are still closed and you are so relaxed she asks now:

“Baby are you even awake?”

Moving one of your hands to the back of her bicep letting your fingers trail over her strong arm.

You lick your bottom lip before you answer her.

“Lionel called and told you Birdie wants to design my wedding dress but she’s only ever done leisure wear and Lionel doesn’t want to be the one to tell her you said that. CNN wants a follow-up interview but you can’t believe that they cut the piece about climate change and you think one of the editors on their website is secretly a flat earther.” You repeat the last thing she told you and she snorts.

“You are a good listener.”

“I like you a lot. It’s easy to listen to you.” You say and yawn as Claire keeps one hand on your ass and the other goes to your hair to brush out the knots.

“You like me? Well, that’s handy, because you are stuck with me.”

“Not stuck, my giddy-up is happily hitched to yours. Also you are the one who’s gonna get sick o of me.” It was a thing you thought about every now and then, of course. The great politician with her Ivy League degree. She had a large fortune, a giant collection of expensive alcohol. Hell Claire could have someone assasinated if she so pleased. She was powerful and brilliant and endlessly funny. And you had to pinch yourself often.

Sometimes it didn’t make sense to you.

“Not remotely possible. Also if you actually believe that you haven’t spent enough time in Washington. But that’s beside the point. I crave you, gorgeous girl. I’ll never get tired of you. You are too smart and funny for us to ever run out of things to talk about. And you taste far too delicious to ever get tired of kissing.”

You loved teasing her.

“I thought you were saying my pussy tasted good. I guess you don’t like my pussy anymore.” You tease keeping your eyes close you smirk and Claire yanks your boxers down and slaps your ass cheek hard. You yelp in suprise.

“Blasphemy, little girl.” Claire says and you chuckle and she hugs you tight against her. Her nose buried in your hair and she presses kisses to your head.

“What are you going to wear?” You ask as she holds you close your thumbs fall to her hips and you rub little circles.

“In this bed, we wear nothing.” Claire is being purposefully dense and you lean down and bite her. Claire just laughs at the feeling, she likes your teeth on her skin.

“Are you going to wear a dress or are you going to rock a suit when we get married?”

“You’ll just have to attend and find out.” Claire says not giving you an answer and you pout.

“I don’t know.. I don’t know when it is, I don’t know I could be busy. Besides I don’t know if you’ve seen the front of the townhouse but all my social outings are postponed.” You tease and you feel Claire sigh exhausted under you.

“They’re gonna be out there for a while baby girl. I’m sorry. If you need to go somewhere I have security detail for you and a-” She says and you kiss her smooth skin under your head.

“I don’t have any social outings baby. I already had my finals. I’ve got nothing on my agenda. It’s really not a big deal. Besides, I don’t know if you figured it out after a few days of living with me. But I’m cheating on you with your library. I’m in love.”

Claire gave a deep chuckle and both her hands splayed on your naked back and she scratched you lightly and it was so good you were practically purring.

“I don’t share my omega. But seeing you curled up in a room full of books I’ve collected over the span of my life is worth all the heart ache to get here.”

You opened your eyes now and looked up at her. Claire was staring down at you with so much tenderness you felt like you might explode.

“You Governor, are a hopeless romantic.”

“Don’t tweet it.”

“Tempting.”

Claire made a play growling noise and you beamed a big smile at her.

“Well if your lifetime of books ever run out I have a new hobby of AI porn to keep me busy.” You sigh like you live in a Jane Austin book and everything is so very dramatic. Claire squints at you through her lashes like she’s going to decide if you need a punishment.

“Do I need to put a child lock on your computer?”

“I don’t know, Mommy, do you?”

“Baby,” Claire warns, and you smile.

“It was purely educational, I just learned about a new position, even! And I have been doing yoga. I’m very flexible. I think you’ll like it!” You say like you are being a good girl and not watching porn in Claire’s bed. Your alpha eyes you before answering in a serious matter;

“I’m going to overnight from Amazon one of those big kink cages that go under the bed. And I’ll keep you in it while I’m on conference calls. I’ll only let you out when I’m off work and you can warm my cock while I read emails.”

You shiver in delight and Claire’s eyes widen slightly not expecting you to like it as much as you did.

“I mean, no don’t, stop what a terrible idea.” You say monotone and you both are smiling at your shared kinkyness.

“You are banned from the internet. No more, even if it’s AI of me railing a pretend you. No more porn, repeat after me Angel?” Claire grabs your chin to make you look into her eyes. Which was ridiculous because they were such a gorgeous blue why wouldn’t you look at her eyes?

“But you had a bullwhip!” You say like that makes it better and Claire moves to grab your now bare ass cheeks with her nails and you yelp.

“Repeat after me; ‘I, Mrs. DeBella will no longer watch pornography because my wife will spank me until I can’t sit on my butt for a month. Then she’ll only fill my ass with cum.”

You smile and she looks at you sternly, but her lip twitches and you read her easily. But you put up your fingers like Girl Scouts and you repeat it.

“I Mrs. DeBella, first lady of the united states will not watch pornography without the sexy Madame President unless of course she leaves my cunt empty of her cum and then everything is fair game.” You say, and Claire flips you so fast you are laughing and gasping in tandem.

She pins your arms. Then leans down so your mouths are close but not touching. So you can feel her words against your lips.

Claire just doesn’t lose. Not in politics, not in negotiations, and now, not in love.

But your alpha was enjoying your little game and it showed with the hardening cock pressed against you now.

“You are laughing a lot for someone who’s about to receive a punishment.”

You pushed up and kissed Claire hard enough to bruise, and your alpha moaned against you. It was a needy noise and it made both of you start to hump each other with desire spilling over.

A phone started vibrating, and you felt Claire growl in frustration.

Two more rapid notification noises, and you pulled away from her kiss and she tried to chase your lips back to hers. But you avoided her and then grabbed her face to still her.

“Claire, baby it could be important-”

Claire forcefully moved from your hand and bit your neck and made unimpressed sounds.

“Nothing is more important-”

Then it was clear that it was her phone from the ringtone and Claire’s body went rigid at the sound.

“It’s Lionel.” You say knowing the ringtone that she saved for the people she despised, it was the sound of the classical Mussorgsky’s ‘A Night on Bald Mountain’. It was a stressful sound that perfectly encompassed how she felt about the group.

“He can wai-”

“You know that’s not true, go.” Because it could be Lionel making a social call, or it could be arbout their Billionaire friend Mr. Bron. Who funding a lot of Claire’s lifestyle. If it was Miles, then it could mean trouble. Seeing as how Miles didn’t own a cellphone, he would fax Lionel, and then Lionel would pass it along to Claire. Lionel felt the whole thing was beneath him because Claire could just get a fax machine. But this was all irrelevant as the ringtone signaled possible trouble.

You squeeze her butt and her hips shift up to make friction from her crotch to yours. But you pull away and move out from under her. The weight of Claire’s body lingering against you as you go down to the ground and grab a hoodie. Lifting it up and yanking it over your head and down your naked chest and tummy.

You go to collect your laptop and Claire moves faster and snatches it. You laugh at her antics but she keeps the MacBook under her arm and grabs her phone, answering it.

“Lionel, you have exactly one minute to make this call worth interrupting me.” She says, and you roll your eyes, grabbing your cellphone and leaving the bedroom. You hear Claire calling you back, but you move around the house to the library.

It takes about an hour and a half.

You are reading the book ‘Manchurian Candidate’, you loved politics. Even conspiracy theory novels on politics were fun, if not a little terrifying. You’d already re-read ‘1984’ since making a home in Claire’s den of books. You had found her copy and it had little notes in the margins from when she was in college. You enjoyed the old staining on the page from highlighter and ball point pen scribbles. It felt like she was talking to you about it.

But you were now to the point in the book where you read:

“Her ambition was an extremely distressing condition. She sought power the way a superstitious man might look for a four-leaf clover.”

You mulled over the sentence for a minute thinking of Claire. Before you realized you were no longer alone. Claire walked in carrying two Waterford tumblers full of scotch. You put the book down and look at her sullen face. She hands you a glass and you take it. Before she grabs your wrist and pulls you gently but firmly up out of the chair. Your alpha moves easily behind you to sit in your seat. It’s warm from where you’d cuddled up and then Claire pulls you back onto her lap.

You liked this better.

You swung your legs over the side of the chair and threw an arm around Claire’s shoulders. Claire sighed more contently but you saw the stress still lingering in her face. She took a long swig of the scotch. You smelled it and then sipped, she’d opened the old stuff, not a good sign.

You didn’t ask your politician what was going on, you waited.

Claire collected herself before answering the unsaid question.

“They want you to come to the island.”

You let the truth hang in the air, and Claire didn’t look at you, but she stared like she’d seen a ghost. Before taking another long gulp of the smooth scotch.

“But- Was it the news or?”

“Lionel told them we were already bonded mates. That marriage was just the last formality, that we are already together permanently and Miles wants to size you up.”

You took a long gulp of your drink and then cupped Claire’s cheek until she turned her face to look at you.

“We knew they’d want to meet me eventually. That coming out to the public would be uncomfortable at first.” You state the obvious just so it can be said out in the air, Claire of course knew that like you.

Claire was an expert chess player. Had been since she was a teenager. She’d been taught strategy by her politician father. One of her favorite books was Sun Tzu ‘Art of War’ and she read it once a year. Even though you made fun o fher for doing so.

So you knew your partner was thinking the long game.

In the long game and short game…Miles Bron was dangerous. He’d always be dangerous. Claire knew that he’d covet you. You were her weakness and the thing that got her up in the morning. Miles would try to find out how to-.

“Baby…I know you are busy playing Battleship in your mind. And you are so close to sinking someone’s battleship, but…I’m going to interrupt your beautiful brain to state what you are thinking too ..Which is we haven’t been around a lot of people besides CNN for an hour….and you had to fuck me so hard and then..when they left we fucked for another four hours…Do you think as an alpha you can be tame enough around your crazy group? You don’t like it when people look at me. How are you going to introduce me to other alphas?” You finish biting your lip but your thumb is tracing the edge of Claire’s jaw.

Claire’s body is tense and you move the hand that was around her shoulders into her hair and you play with the little baby hairs on the back of her neck.

Claire’s body started to relax as your talented fingers eased some of her stress.

“I don’t have a choice it seems,” Claire said frustrated and she stared at your lips. You answered her by moving up and kissing her slow and full of devotion. Before you leaned your forehead against hers. It seemed to do the trick and Claire sighed.

“Not very nice of Lionel to tattle on you. I’m sorry, Governor.” You kiss her twice on the lips as an apology for something you didn’t do. Claire leans her forehead against yours and tilts to the side.

“Your apology is sweet, but oh-so unnecessary. I have a very loyal, adorable partner. I’m doing very well in politics. You and I will end up purchasing a vacation house once we decide where this quarter. I don’t need Lionel to make me a friendship bracelet and gab about ‘The Real Housewives of Atlanta’. He’s trying to survive in this world of rats trapped in a barrel. I don’t blame him for using me as a pawn. He’s got to chew on someone to survive. I’d be disappointed if he didn’t, to be honest. He’s the one I trust the most out of all of them…That’s not saying a lot, baby... I told you, I’m a woman in politics, and I don’t have friends. They are all out for themselves, and you need to know that. This weekend, they will try to manipulate you. You can’t let them. Think of this like a bunch of house representatives, and you are their meal ticket. They want you to fail, they want information.”

Claire’s jaw is tense as she talks about how these people will see you. You want to make her feel better. But you know she’s telling the truth. And it’s a gross, ugly, naked truth indeed.

“You don’t need to-.” You tell her but she disagrees grabbing your hand on her face to kiss your warm palms.

“You are my everything.”

“Claire.” You tell her but she doesn’t listen.

“You mean the absolute world to me. Nothing these people say or do or think about you is true. They don’t know you like I do. And they’ll never take the time to, which is their loss and my gain. Because I’m greedy for you baby.” Claire says and her eyes are shining with something so very trade mark DeBella and you smile.

“I know you believe that, which is insane-”

“No what’s insane is how Bron thinks he can shake us. Nothing could ever get my teeth to release from your throat.” Claire jokes and goes to bite your neck playfully. You attempted to stay on topic but her teeth nipping at your skin and then planting open mouth kisses was so delicious. You grabbed both Claire’s shoulders and tried to bring her back.

“Claire, you don’t need to-“

You started and Claire kissed your cheek and looked into your eyes very serious again.

“I will say it every-damn-day until I’m worm food. But I’m going to repeat it a lot this weekend so that those leeches don’t get in your head. Because if this comes down to you or Brons money it’ll be you everytime, got it?” Claire used her manicured nails to pin under your chin so that you couldn’t look away from her. You had to agree with her. But you were concerned.

“I’m more worried about you then me, DeBella. Are you going to be able to play nice in the sandbox? Especially if someone plays with me?”

Claire used her thumb lightly under your lip to softly touch you. Keeping your chin locked so you couldn’t run from her.

But you were trying not to smirk at Claire grimacing at the idea of someone ‘playing’ with you and the unease stuck to her facial features.

“Hmm.” She said and you know she was trying to take stock of herself now.

“Claire, it will be fine. I will be next to you the whole time. If we both keep our hands on each other, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Claire hummed in agreement and you knew she liked the idea of her hands never leaving your body. Her eyes were far away now, though, you knew she was making lists.

“We leave tonight, and we’ll get in early tomorrow. Miles already bought the tickets, I’m afraid.” Claire said it was silly and trivial. But both her hands were holding your face tenderly. Claire was almost pacifying herself by touching your face.

“What if you get…feral? Or attack someone?” You ask gently, and Claire grabs your drink and holds it up to your lips, and you take the last swig. She puts the glass down on the coffee table. Before she cupped your jaw and kissed you, you gasped at the intensity of it, and she used that as leverage to taste the alcohol in your mouth. Claire seemed to think her expensive drink tastes better licked off your tongue.

You broke the kiss much to Claire's dismay, but you were panting and blushing. Claire licks her lips as if she can still taste you, and she doesn’t want to waste a drop. But she answers you now.

“If it were anyone else, I’d say of course I wouldn’t…I’m in politics for goodness' sake, I can contain my instincts and be cordial… But if Duke so much as looks at your breasts, I may commit murder in a room full of people. So you’ll need to keep my alpha pheromones in check and be a sweet omega.” Claire teases you, and you roll your eyes.

“This is going to end with someone in the ER.” You mumbled and you moved off Claire. Who was grabbing at your hips, but you just turned to straddle her. Blue eyes look relieved and entertained at the same time at you moving onto her lap again. You felt Claire pulling you down so that your legs bent and you can feel her dick through her expensive boxers.

“I know. But look at it this way. You were going to be in the public eye with me sooner or later. This is a trial run for us. With people who are vipers, just like politics.” Claire teases, and you put your hands on the back of her neck. It’s warm, and the little hairs tickle your hand.

“Ya know, I have some nice people we could have done this with first.”

Claire laughs, and you wonder if she wants to get into a fight with these people. Or if she just likes the idea of owning you in front of an audience who could never touch what was Claire’s.

#fanfic #fanfiction #kathryn hahn #ao3 fanfic #kathryn hahn x reader #claire debella #claire debella x reader #glass onion fanfic #knives out #omega / alpha

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dumbpuppyfag · 2 months ago

Text

18+ ONLY, IF U FOLLOW ME AND I CAN'T CLEARLY SEE UR AGE THEN I WILL BLOCK U

hiiiiiii! i'm paws, i like to post silly stuff and horny stuff and silly horny stuff and occasionally about marxism-leninism. i'm nonbinary, i use they/it pronouns and i looove puppyplay bullshit. i have too many followers and wayyyy too many ppl giving me shitty unsolicited political opinions, so i go nuts with the block button

DO NOT INTERACT:

anyone below the age of 18 (this is not negotiable, u need to leave immediately)

terfs/transphobes

racists of any description (this includes zionists, settler-colonial apartheid is racist)

anyone sexualising irl minors, stay the fuck away from me. i will report you and everyone you interact with, i will snitch on you to the cops, i will do anything i can to ruin your day, fuck off.

detrans/sissy-focused blogs. this is not a judgement, do ur thing, it's just very bad for me personally. we all have boundaries that need observing and this is one of mine

anyone called like mr-pain-daddy who posts stolen ass slap gifs and/or types like they just got done tying a woman to railway tracks

hp fans (u suck, fuck u)

stuff i'm into

puppy puppy puppy i'm a good puppy i love being a good puppy yayayayayayayyyyyy!!!!

hypno/dumbification/anything that turns anyone into a mindless fuck machine

being a little muskdrunk pit freak

tboys. i love tboys. i am in love with tboys. tboys i love u. i was put on earth to worship at the altar of puppyboys. this is not confined to sex, i love and respect you as my transgender brothers but within a horny context i am ur fucking chew toy

bondage/restraints

P R A I S E ! ! ! ! (note: i am not a boy, however i can be a good boy in the dog sense)

intox kinda but generally within the framework of the hypno stuff (irl drugs and alcohol not so much, aphrodisiacs and swirling pink heart shaped potions yes)

stuff i'm not into

(this is separate from the dni, what consenting adults do is their own business, it's just stuff that i won't engage with bc i do not like it)

serious pain

ageplay (age gaps are fine, absolutely nothing where anyone is a minor, this is a hard hard limit for me)

whatever the hell raceplay is

hard cnc (i.e. violent physical coercion)

scat, emeto, gore

probably some stuff i'm forgetting

finally, i have a moots-only sideblog where i post about politics and serious stuff like that. if we're moots and u want in then dm me ^_^

#updated april 2025

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thoughts-nshit · 6 months ago

Text

Lone Bunny

Summary: Reader bumped into a stranger on the street, he was a stranger to her, but she wasn't a stranger to him.

TW: Stalker!Konig, Oblivious!Reader, eventual smut, MDNI, NSFW, murder of a character, piv, oral (f!&m!recieving), Very slowburn, reader is seen as chubby and a virgin, manipulation, loneliness, Konig perspective, writen in 2nd person.

Note: here is the prologue to part one, love you guys xxx words- 947.

Prologue

Perfect

That’s what she was, perfect. Not one flaw, not one bad trait, just perfect.

The first time he saw her she was in her flat, across the road. He had just moved in, he needed a place to rest after being forced onto mandatory leave, ‘too much violence’ he was told by his superior officers. He rolled his eyes at the thought, He was trained to be a killing machine, was there wrong in being too violent? He didn't think so, especially when it came to war.

She was so cute curled on the couch, looking at flashcards, so enthralled in her studies, a dedicated woman, that was one of the countless things that enthralled him in her, day and night she was all he could think about, those thighs, those hips, those lips, that face, so perfect.

For months, he spent hours watching her through the window, learning everything about her. Her favourite colour, her favourite flowers, the way she made her coffee, he knew her schedule, the days she struggled to sleep, her cycle, what she washed her hair with… etc.

He knew everything about her.

Every day, he got closer and closer, about 3 months after discovering this gem, he got into her flat for the first time, the moment he smelled her residual presence, she was at lectures, and he was sprung, but it would be too risky to do anything about it now, he left small cameras, one pointing at her bed, hidden behind a jelly cat of a triceratops, that she never moved, it was far too valuable. Another pointed into the main room, hidden on the doorframe, shrouded by the curtain, dividing the bedroom from the main room.

As he walked around making sure not to leave traces of him, her cat brushing against his legs a few times, he walked into her room, getting even harder. She left her phone, no that would be too much, but he did bring a cable for this reason… he used the cable, connected to his phone, to enter the phone files and installed an app on her phone that would allow him to have a live feed of her phone, the type of app scammers use.

He saw the time and scrambled a bit, rushing out, locking the door with his picking tools, and taking the stairs down, he knew she would be too tired to walk up all 7 flights of stairs, poor hase, he thought to himself, so drained, so tired, how he wished to fill her up, emotionally and physically, he knew she could handle him, he watched what she did to herself daily, he saw her trembling hands, not letting her finish properly, she thought she knew what it would be like to cum, but god she was wrong.

Day in and out, he watched her through the cameras, watched her activity on her phone, what she liked, commented, what she watched, and read, he already knew everything that turned her on, how she wanted the caring roughness, put in a headlock and fucked hard until she passed out from ecstasy and pleasure and fullness, she even wrote about it in a small blog (😉).

Each day, he got slightly bolder stealing her panties from the drycleaning, watching her while she slept, fapped while he watched, but he would never touch her, that boundary would never be crossed without consent, despite the nasty shit she read about cnc and stalkers and serial killers, this girl was fucked up. But perfect.

It was almost a year before he saw her from his window, his scope constantly trained on her window. Today was the day he would finally utter a word to him, he purposefully, through the app he had previously installed, snoozed her alarm, making her late, he waited on the street corner and as soon as she started walking through the crowd, so did he, purposely getting in her way, when bump.

He spoke in German. “pass auf, wo du hin gehst, Hase”

How he wished to speak to her words of love, encouragement, ownership, protection, he just wanted her, to take her, for her to squeeze his head between he thighs after the third hour of devouring her like a starving man. How he wished to see such supple lips wrap around his cock, how he wished to serve her cunt like a dog, but for him to also serve him, rely on him, be possessed by him… And he knew that if it came too, he would kill anyone in the way, but he was pulled out of thought by her apologetic rambling.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry, my head is just in the clouds…with class and all.”

“It doesn’t matter Hase, just watch where you're going, don’t want you getting trampled.”

He saw how her cheeks blushed, how she didn’t recoil like she usually would for anyone else, his hand on her shoulder, the first time he touched her and he was about to cum in his pants, but that would be such a waste. Konig quickly took his hand off her shoulder and left her standing in the street, he felt like jumping for joy, like a schoolboy when his crush says yes to the dance, but this.. was just the first part of his plan.

Once she got back from her lecture, she crashed on her couch, he took that opportunity to give her a gift, a single lavender flower, tucked in her post-box… risky, but so romantic, in his eyes at least, and he watched as she rushed back into her flat, right inline with his scope.

Perfect.

Note: TeeHee

#konig x chubby reader #konig x you #konig cod #konig x reader #cnc k!nk #rough kink #konig #chubby #chubby reader #stalker bf #oblivous reader #hope its as good as the first xx #konig is pulling a full joe from you

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the-californicationist · 6 months ago

Note

Cali Cali bo-bali banana fana fo-fali me my mo mali! Cali!

I'm three Budweisers in and got an itch for alpha Price with a sudden need to breed (yay! Surprise rut!), and there's his sweet smelling omega neighbor who he's been keeping at arm's length because he's a professional dammit and has complete control of his urges, thank you very much.

Honestly, I just wanna see Mr. "I'm Married to My Job" lose it and show back up on base abashed and mated, and also ridiculously proud of his lil omega's claiming bite, because "she turned into a wildcat, lads. I couldn't stop her." *wink-wink*

Or not. I'm happy with any smutty Price fic you bestow on us, really. I'm just being weirdly specific because— alcohol = horny thots. 🍺😏🥴🫠

Drunken hugs 🫂 from Random Thot

RTG!! You are the most amazing person, and every time I see your pfp on AO3 or tumblr, I just get all gooey inside. Thank you for the ask! I wrote (and fully deleted) this fic three times because I wanted to get it right. I just pray that I could deliver. <3 <3 Hope this is what you were hoping for!!

MDNI/NSFW -- TW: damsel in distress, ABO dynamics, knotting, fuck-or-die scenarios, CNC, fluids, PIV sex, female OC

Glory, Glory

It was his last beer of the night, and he was ripping it apart. Curling, soggy shards of the torn label were stuck under his thumbnail, darkening the translucent edge and making it look dirty. They littered the sticky, lacquered bartop like ugly snow, falling in a tiny, chaotic mess. His hands were more than just dirty, the captain thought to himself as he used his wide thumb to itch at the glue-covered glass, rolling little, paper shards away from the smooth surface to reveal the amber liquid swirling within. The captain’s hands; they were covered in blood. Not innocent blood, but blood all the same. They’d never be clean again.

But, that was the job, and he was good at it. His hands were a direct reflection of his hard work. Killing evil bastards kept the world safe. Some poor sob in a factory could clean out the glue-painting machine that pasted these fuckin’ labels on all of these bloody beer bottles because of one unshakable truth: John Price was good at killing evil bastards.

Unfortunately, the killing would need to wait until after the mandated leave window closed again. His argument with Kate still grated inside of his head. He could almost hear her harsh, Yank accent in his ears.

“What do you want me to tell payroll, John? You can’t be here. You’ve got too many days. Go home. See your mom.”

“I see her plenty, Katie. Let me run that ops gig with Keller. C’mon. I’ll do overwatch,” he tried his best to weasel his way back into a bit of active duty.

“You’d be the world’s most expensive overwatch. Hell no. Here’s your ticket,” she shoved an envelope in his hands, “...and your money,” another envelope, “Go the fuck home, Captain. That’s an order.”

An order. More like a toothless threat.

But, alas, here he was, staring at a freshly shaved, buzzcut version of himself in a filthy pub mirror, undressing bottles left and right.

“Another, mate?” The barkeep pointed to his almost-empty drink, making a slight grimace at the paper graveyard that was sprinkled across his bar.

“No,” John sighed, pulling out a few notes from his wallet, “I’m off.”

“Happy Christmas,” the barkeep took the bills and didn’t bother to look up again, setting himself to sweeping the torn strips off of the surface, preparing for the next paying customer.

“You, too,” John muttered, tugging his black wool beanie over his ears before braving the classic cold, wet, and windy Liverpudlian night.

He didn’t live far. John’s mum had kept up his loft down by the docks, but it certainly didn’t feel like home. Home wasn’t real. Not anymore. As he walked along the Mersey’s edge, he peered into the black water, wondering if he’d ever truly go home again.

All of a sudden, he heard a shrill scream. Every sense that had been dulled by his lager was now as sharp as a blade and set on its edge. Again, a high-pitched shout pealed through the night air, beckoning him back to his heroism. That keening was the sound of some evil that needed stamping out, and he was hungry for it.

He sprinted through the warehouse district, chasing the noise of scuffling, ducking behind alleys and abandoned garages, looking for the source. Finally, there was a flash of red that caught his eye, so he ran towards it, his mind making sense of the scene in front of him.

Voices were jumbled and mashed up together, barely registering in his mind.

“Out here in a fuckin’ heat. Dumb bitch! C’mere.”

“She’s got a knife!”

“C’mere, you little slag. Get –”

In the middle of three huge, stinking Alphas, a tiny Omega was struggling, arm outstretched, brandishing her knife at them to keep them at bay. John came up behind the biggest one, some bald fuck with a dirty coat, and dropped him, cracking his spine in two places with well-placed fists, and breaking his jaw on his way down to the ground, leaving him groaning on the concrete.

One of his mates, a older man with thick, black eyebrows, lunged at Price, a look of indignant surprise on his face. The Omega screamed, her red coat yanked back over her face by the third man, her knife clattering to her feet. Price focused on Mister Eyebrows, dodging a lazy haymaker before popping him twice in the nose, drawing out his blood and knocking out at least two of his front teeth. Then, John grabbed him by the collar, pulling his jaw into his raised knee and listening to the satisfying splash as he fell into a murky puddle.

Finally, he set his sights on the last Alpha of the pack whose ropey arm was looped across the Omega’s neck, choking the air from her lungs. He growled at Price, his scent turning to rancid fear,

“Stay back! She’s mine, you big bastard.”

The captain had nothing to say. With a practiced ease, he side-stepped her assailant, breaking the elbow that controlled her throat, making him release her immediately. The evil bastard stumbled back, hand outstretched, bargaining for his life,

“Wait, wait. I’ll share her with you, how’s that? I’ll even let you have first go!”

A deafening howl came out of his mouth as Price’s boot heel made contact with his kneecap, forcing it to snap at a terrible angle. John’s hand shot out and grabbed the man by the hair on the crown of his head, tugging cruelly at his scalp. Without mercy, John slammed his face into a nearby bollard, and the howling stopped.

It was quiet again aside from the Omega’s trembling breaths. She had recovered the knife and was now pointing it towards John with shaking hands and wide, determined eyes.

“You alright, love?” Price asked, holding his hands up in a sign of peace, edging towards her in gentle, predictable steps.

“Y-yeah… Stay! Stay right there,” her voice was bright and clear, and he could hear her strength laced through her words. He stopped in his tracks, respecting her wishes.

“What are you doin’ all the way out here, darlin’?”

“They dragged me over here from Baltic Fleet,” she straightened up, getting her bearings, wiping the blood from a small cut in her cheek, “Fuckin’ bastards. Thank you, by the way.”

“Jus’ doin’ my job,” Price shrugged, waiting for her to lower the knife even further before he continued his approach.

“Police?” She asked, a little confused.

“Not exactly,” Price smiled, offering a hand out to her, “John Price, Captain of His Majesty’s RAF service.”

“Oh,” she studied him for a moment, and then her eyes fell to the hand, ready to bite but deciding to shake it instead.

When he touched her skin, Price felt her fever. Shocked, he tightened his grip, not meaning to startle her but too surprised by her temperature to ignore it.

“Christ, love. You’re burnin’ up.”

As quick as a flash, she yanked her hand out of his grasp and retreated back towards the wall of the warehouse behind her, scooting her way towards the corner to get out of his range, ready to bolt. She didn’t respond, but John watched as she wiped her brow, dotted with sweat and covered in concern.

“Hey,” he moved forward again protectively, “You can’t be out here alone. Not like this. At least let me walk with you. I’ll stay ten paces behind. It’s not safe.”

“I’m fine,” she said with more strength in her voice than what she was ready to produce.

“You’re not. You’re in a bloody heat. When did it start?” He watched as her knees began to tremble, and against her obvious wishes, he helped her sit on the warehouse deck, letting her keep the knife so she could feel safe.

“Yesterday…” She closed her eyes, trying to shake it off, “It’s… I’m fine. It’s never this bad.”

Now that he was close to her, Price was smothered by the scent of her body. The Omegan glands in her neck smelled like thick, wild honey, and her heat was mixing with her aroma, turning an already sweet smell into a lucious, decadent gourmand, pulling him in like quicksand.

“C’mon,” he helped her up, “Where’s your place? I’ll get you close.”

The clang of her knife made him glance up to see her eyes closed and her mouth slack. She was out, too weak to withstand the fever and the physical exertion.

Price felt his body react to her need. He was filled with rage, white and hot, at her situation. Those goddamn monsters were trying to take advantage of her in this vulnerable state. She should be home in her nest, being taken care of by her Alpha, covered in soothing oils and cool compresses, her needy little cunt stuffed full of his knot, staving off these symptoms and enduring them for her. Instead, she’d been hunted, chased, made to fight for her dignity out here in the middle of the docks. Something else inside Price’s chest curled around his anger.

Possession.

He tried to shake it off, knowing it came from being unmarked, but it had been so many years as a lone Alpha that he knew how to control it. Or, at least he thought he did.

Now, though, he found himself pulling at the neck of her coat as he held her in his arms, invading her privacy to check for a bite. He felt the shame wash over him as he covered her skin back up. He had no business searching for a mating bite. She was not his Omega, and he was not her Alpha.

After a few minutes out in the chilled wind, he made it to his apartment. Thankfully, it was late enough that his neighbors weren’t outside to witness what looked like a literal kidnapping, and he shuffled her inside without much trouble. Price lay her down on his long, leather sofa, careful to rest her head on the soft arm. He went to the kitchen to retrieve a cold rag and pressed it to her forehead, hoping to hold back the fever for as long as he could.

“C’mon, pretty girl. Wake up,” he whispered, trying to gently shed her coat and sweater, peeling her layers off to bring her temperature down to a more manageable level.

She moaned, her eyes wrenching shut even tighter, her face twisted in pain,

“My head…” She sighed, desperate for some relief.

“I know, love. C’mon,” John propped her up a bit, moving the rag so that the coldest parts would be against her skin, “What’s your name? I can find an address. Do you have your purse?”

“They… took it? I don’t… I dunno…” She muttered, obviously having a hard time stringing her thoughts together, “I don’t feel so good.”

This was not ideal. Price knew what came next. A high fever, exhaustion, fatigue, nausea, increased heart rate, and then…

“Alpha?” Her eyes were open, glassy and dark, the pupils fully blown, looking up at him with an outpouring of unfathomable need. Her scent rolled off of her in mind-altering waves, shoving Price’s carefully-built walls out of the way and sending shocks of desire straight to his heart and his fat, growing cock.

“No, baby. I’m not your Alpha. Who is he? Can you give me a name?” John asked, checking her coat pockets in a rushed panic. He was running out of time.

“Alpha, please… I need… Help me, please,” her shaking hands reached under his jacket and shirt, her knuckles rubbing against his furry belly, her strong fingers digging around for his belt buckle, getting right to the point.

Price felt the room flex around him, and he tried to breathe in air that wasn’t saturated by her vanilla spice, searching in the deepest recesses of his mind for some semblance of his self control.

“Easy, love. I can’t m–mmngh!” Her mouth slotted over his as he tried to protest, stopping his heart and his words at the same time.

She was heaven. Her smell was making his skin tingle all over his body, down his arms and up his legs, rushing to his central, sacral core. And her taste was even better. His little cinnamon roll, so sweet and warm, burning for him like a flame, hot and ready to scar him for life.

“Mngh… Love, mmm… Wait…” Price held her back, using more force than he thought he should need, surprised by her sudden power.

“John…” He met her eyes and found a particular clarity within them. She was coming out of her haze. But, it wouldn’t last. This was his final chance to keep her from doing something she would regret.

“Darlin’, I can’t. I’m not your Alpha.”

“You smell like you are,” she mewled, rubbing her wounded cheek across his engorged neck gland, spreading his scent all over herself.

“I can’t,” he moved away from her, trying to hold her in his arms for comfort rather than to bask in her expressive heat, “My work… I can’t leave you here, pretty girl.”

She sobbed out, trying to hold back from writhing against his body, doing everything she could not to make it harder for him to turn her down. Her eyes were rimmed red and pink from exhaustion, and she was staring down at her own hands, vibrating with tremors, slurring her words,

“Just lock me in the bath. I’ll run cold water. I’ll be fine…”

Something ancient and feral snarled in Price’s mind.

No.

“No,” he said, involuntarily, the voice in his head escaping from his throat.

“Please… I can’t stop myself… I want your knot, Alpha. Lock me up before I do something to you… Something you don’t want…” She could barely put two words together. Every thought was a struggle. He was losing her again.

He grabbed her and held her to his chest, clutching her like water in his palm, using all his strength to keep her with him,

“I want you, love. I want… Fuck, I need you.”

All of a sudden, the energy around their bodies stilled. That cracking, sparking electricity that bound them together was roiling just beyond John’s consciousness, ready to surge. But, he stayed perfectly still, waiting to see what she did next. She locked eyes with him and leaned in close, as if she would kiss him. But, she didn’t. She dipped her head down until she found his Alphic gland, swollen and bruised purple from him holding back his lust, nuzzling at it with the tip of her nose, rooting against him, testing his patience, checking to see if his temperament was true. Then, when he let her sniff him in his most potent spot, when she knew his soul was as pure as his scent, that he was true, she sucked his flesh between her lips, drawing his musk onto her tongue.

She’d accepted him. He reeled from it, unable to hold back a groan, his cock jerking against his zipper, thrashing to escape, flooding with hot blood and threatening to fill his knot before he’d even had a chance to taste her.

John pulled her mouth off of him and stared at her eyes again, in awe of her beauty, his mind swirling and yet perfectly sharp, begging her darkly,

“Give me your neck, Omega.”

The ritual had begun, and as she swept her hair away from her shoulder, pulling it around her back, she bent for him, arching her head down in a submissive bow, revealing her Omegan mating line. It looked like a keloid scar, the raised skin swollen and painful, like a pounding vein that ran from below her earlobe down to the top of her shoulder, full of her hormones and thick with her magic. One bite, and he would be in her thrall, pliant to her every whim, beholden to her needs until her heat had run its course.

Price had never given his bite to anyone. It had been easy to abstain. In fact, in his youth, he had a hard time understanding his mates’ commitments to their Omegas, scoffing at their lack of duty to their stations, doubting their commitment, and - moreover - doubting their loyalty. He remained a captain through and through, and he’d never made room for anyone or anything else. But, here he was, his teeth aching in his jaw, bigger and sharper than they should’ve been, his every sense heightened and taking her in like a drug, compelling him to punch through her delicate flesh and suck her nectar deep into his belly.

The feeling of her skin against his lips was enough to send a chill through his body. He was cooling from the inside out, and his body needed her heat. She was forcing a rut to take hold in him, and he could feel himself changing for her. Then, he bit down as hard as he could, breaking the thin seal of her mating line with ease, feeling the searing mixture of her oil and her blood filling his mouth and throat like a ripe plum, wet and sweet, and promising pleasure if he chose to swallow her.

He drank from her for as long as he dared, taking her in long, slurping gulps, letting her essence coat his throat, feeling the hot fluid burn inside of his chest and down into his stomach where it pooled and lingered, warming him up from the inside out.

“Alpha…” She moaned, raising her hand to cup his cheek as he sucked her life into himself, rubbing her thumb so softly over his shut eyelashes that he barely felt it.

John pulled away from her, his eyes fluttering open, her bright orange blood iridescent with her mating oil, making the red cells burn bright like a fresh-cracked yolk, gleaming, trapped between his teeth like gold. He watched it drip down her chest, staining her clothes, and he began to tear them off of her. She let him, limp and mute as he peeled her open, making her naked and pulling her into his arms.

He carried her into his bedroom, kicking open the door and busting the bolt through the strike, splintering the wood and not giving a shit about the damage. John lay her in the middle of the mattress and set to surrounding her with whatever softness he could find; his shirts, his blankets, even his scarves. Anything warm and comfortable was added to the nest, giving her as much support as he could before standing back to admire his work.

She eyed him from her recumbent throne, commanding him with her gaze. John stripped off his shirt for her, raking it up his back and over his shoulders, feeling as if he was moving his body for her and only for her. All of his motions, even his ragged breaths, were only escaping from his lungs because she wanted them to. His buckle clattered apart, and he popped open the button of his jeans, lowering the zipper in a sharp, metallic rip.

Once free, his heavy prick flagged, leaping forward and pulsating for her, proudly showing her his gleaming head. He was drooling an unrelenting stream of iridescent precome, his balls tight and full of Alphic oil, ready to coat her warm insides with his shining sex.

John climbed onto the bed, his face focused on her wet mound, admiring the plumpness of her, imagining her - in every delicious way - like a tender peach. He crawled to her, his mouth still stained neon orange from her gland, and he smeared her wet quim all over his lips and tongue. He wasn’t licking her so much as he was wearing her like warpaint, moving his nose and cheeks through her to ensure he was soaked in her heady slick, his body making wild, unbridled choices purely on instinct.

“Yes, baby, please…” Her voice went straight through him like a bullet, tightening his cockhead to an uncomfortable degree, and it jerked against the mattress in protest. Her hands were in his hair, scratching through his scalp, encouraging him to sink his tongue deep inside of her hole.

John obeyed, helpless to her desire, his mind wiping clean and being rewritten by her will. He was swimming in her scent, drenched in her slick, and gasping against her pussy, his eyes fixated on her form as it writhed above him. When she met his eyes, she bit the inside of her lip, crying out for him, rewarding him for his prostrated fealty. Then, she began to rock her hips against his jaw, fucking herself on his face, and he let her use him to her heart’s content, staying strong and sure, allowing his body to be used, objectified and glorified by it.

When she began to come, it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He followed his tongue inside of her with two of his thick fingers, pressing against her walls, pushing her over the edge. She bolted upright, wrapping her thighs around his face, smothering him with her body, trapping him breathless between her legs. Her whole being trembled for him. He could feel the shimmer of her very soul, rattling and writhing with her siren-like keening. And just when he started to see spots in his vision, needing air just a little less than he needed to please her, she lay open for him, blooming outward like a flower, releasing him from a limbo he longed to return to, oozing with a stream of rainbow-tinted come, the Omegan oil within her womb escaping to advertise its promises to her mate.

Without knowing why, John found himself lapping it up from her pulsing hole like a hound, swallowing mouthful after mouthful and grunting with each pass of his broad tongue.

“John, I need... Please, put your knot inside me. I’ll be good…” She begged, tears shining at the corners of her eyes from her come-drunk bliss, her hands plucking at her nipples and trying to soothe herself down from her high.

“My pretty girl wants this knot, yeah?” John grinned devilishly, dipping his finger into her over and over and licking it clean like she was a jar of endless honey, “Wants me to breed this gorgeous cunt…”

At that comment, she spread her legs even wider for him, opening up for him like a blossom for the sun, ready to take whatever he had to give her. It was mesmerizing for John to see her like this. Everything about her was filled with intoxication and need. He was just a vessel for her pleasure, pouring himself into her to make her full again. Dizzy and drunk with adoration, he notched his girth at her entrance, struggling to fit even his cockhead within her.

“Fuck… so bloody warm…”

Her body was burning him with every millimeter he sank into her, the heat of her tight sex in such high contrast with his cool rut. It felt like he was swimming in a roiling pot of sugary caramel, clinging and cloying and sticking to every part of him, and yet it was not enough. He needed more. His hips thrust forward, savage yet steady, reaching deep inside of her like an anchor, rushing to settle himself within her darkness.

The way his Omega cried out this time was different, and it snapped him to her attention, his mind immediately sensing a new need.

“Love, tell me what you need.” He purred, his mouth kissing her lips and her neck, lapping at the now-healing wound his own fangs had made, talking to her between long licks of his tongue, “Tell me, and it’s yours.”

“You’re so big. I’ve never…” She sounded ashamed.

Price slowed to a creeping pace, focused fully on her face,

“Never had a knot before?”

She shook her head, her eyes full of worry. John wrapped her up in his arms, dragging himself out of her slowly before filling her up again as carefully as he could.

“Tha’s alright, baby. You’re mine, and I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”

“Feels like I’m burning alive,” she sighed, her brow furrowing with distress, “John, I need… I don’t know how…”

“Look at me, alright?” He helped her focus her eyes on his, “Don’t… Just stay with me, right here. You’re gonna come for me, and then… I’ll give you what you need.”

“Please,” she whimpered, her voice so small.

Price set himself on a path with a purpose. He used his hand to rub small, rhythmic circles beside the rigid body of her clit, coaxing her pussy to drop even more slick around him, using every ounce of willpower he had left not to let his knot slip inside of her prematurely. His thrusts were jerky and restrained, but he felt her begin to rock back and forth with his hand’s movements, bringing her closer and closer to her glowing joy.

“Good girl,” he praised her, watching her as she began to fall apart around him, “Tha’s my good little Omega. Come for your Alpha just like that. Just… mmf-fuck! Like that! Holy fuck.”

The feeling of her slick pussy clenching and twisting around his cock’s tugid body was enough to make him see stars. He felt almost sick with pleasure, his whole core lighting up like a roaring fire, spitting and aching to bury himself within her.

At the end of her crescendo, he felt himself let go of the chain, and he rutted his knot inside of her, humping himself forward ruthlessly, his body contorting itself to fit her needs. His knot sealed him within her, and although he was not yet orgasming, he was filling her with his come, the creamy flow of it spilling out of his tip, filling her hole and coating his prick from inside of its hungry little sheath.

“Your come… I can feel it inside of me. Oh, my God,” she sighed with some sort of relief, her eyes rolling inside of her head, her arms losing their strength, and her back arching towards him, lifting up as if she would float right into Heaven.

And just like that, her fever began to abate. With his knot stuffed inside of her, locking his seed within her hole, his Alphic oils could soothe her heat, bringing her back to the realm of consciousness and delivering her from her wild state.

“John,” she lay back, her hand pressed to his cheek.

He didn’t answer her. Instead, he bent forward on his elbows and kissed her mouth, chastely at first, and then languidly, exploring her taste. When he did finally pull away, she was awake and alert, sated and happy. He smiled down at her,

“Hey, pretty girl,” he whispered, wiping her hair back from her face.

“Hey,” she smiled back at him, wrapping her ankles around his back for comfort, not knowing that it was just enough to set his cock on edge again, his Alphic instinct rejoicing at the feeling of being trapped by his mate.

“You alright?” John asked, a tinge of worry at the edge of his voice.

“I am now, thanks to you,” she sighed, tucking herself in beneath him, rubbing her hands along his ribs and the soft fur of his back and arms, feeling every bit of him as if she was seeing him with her touch, “You saved me, Alpha.”

“Aye,” he nudged her jaw with his nose, asking her wordlessly to give him the vulnerable softness of her neck. She obliged, and he spoke to her between sucking kisses, “All mine. My Omega. Innit that right, baby?”

She was practically lambent beneath the scrutiny of his possession, rolling in it like a wave in the sand, captured by it and surrendering to the riptide of his unbreakable grip. She nodded, humming her ascent, her expression turning a little rueful right at the end of his kisses. The sorrowful timbre of her voice broke his heart,

“I’m grateful. But, I know this isn’t what you wanted, and I’m so sor–”

“No,” he kissed her words away, feeling his length throb inside of her, urging him to kiss her again, “No, love.”

“I won’t bite you,” she promised, her gaze still full of apology, “You won’t be stuck with me.”

“Bite me, Omega,” he bent his head and buried his face in her shoulder, giving her his gland in total surrender, “Go on. I’m yours.”

“John…” She hesitated, but he could feel her body flood her hole, excited beyond measure at the thought of binding him to her as her mated Alpha.

“Go on,” he commanded in his smoky growl, holding her tighter and bracing for the ecstasy of her teeth.

He felt her lips first, and his balls tightened, ready to fling him into a messy orgasm as soon as he felt his gland shatter in her mouth. Her Omegan teeth wouldn’t break the skin, but he knew she was strong enough to crack the shell around his swollen node. The anticipation of her bite was wrecking his mind, and he was gasping for breath by the time he felt her jaw set itself against him.

“Baby, please…” He whined in her ear, his hips thrusting in short, jerking thrusts, unable to move much with his knot still trapped up inside of her, holding his gushing come in her hole, pushing it into her womb from the sheer volume of it.

Her teeth connected, and he could hear his unbroken shell give way beneath her strength, the hormones inside of it rushing through his system like wildfire, burning through his veins and making him scream for her. At the same time, John felt his core throw him into a raw orgasm, his whole body trembling above her, wringing himself from the inside out.

“Alpha,” she sighed, licking his neck to comfort him, “My Alpha…”

“Yours, baby. All yours.”

— — — — —

The new trainees filed out of the gym, sweaty, bloody, and eager to be out of the captain’s sight. Price had run them ragged, forcing them to spar with practice weapons, pitting them against each other in a strained, exhausting competition. Ghost and Soap sat with Gaz as they eyed their commander, their eyes glued to the fresh bite mark on his neck, shocked into a silent stupor.

“I cannae believe it. Mated? To which lassie?” Soap asked, dumbfounded.

“I didn’t think he’d ever take a mate,” Gaz marvelled.

“I thought he was savin’ himself for marriage,” Ghost quipped, earning himself a scuff from Soap.

Price made his way across the mat, pulling his sweaty shirt off his back to trade it for a clean one. The red welts and nail-marks across his shoulders and down his belly made Gaz let out a low whistle. But, his commander’s glare stopped him mid-note.

“Wha’s that, Garrick?”

“Nothin’, sir. Just… admirin’ your battle scars,” Gaz smiled, wishing his two teammates would stop snickering so loudly.

“Looks like a hell’uva fight, Cap,” Ghost added, looking everywhere but into Price’s icy eyes.

“Wha’s her name?” Soap asked outright, skipping over the double entendres and going right for the point.

Their captain sighed, zipped up his gym bag, and stood in front of his three officers, glaring down at them with a look that was on the border of dead-seriousness,

“If I told you that, lads, I’d have to kill you.”

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kabr0ztrousers · 4 months ago

Note

hi I was wondering if you can do a part 2 of episode 9: farm work, I wanna know more about those machines on reader and the creature that fucks her also her giving birth.

A part 2 for Episode 9? Tough call seeing how simply awful that one ended. Oh well, folks, here's

Kabr0z Writes Episode 29: Farm Work, Part 2

Find part 1 all the way back here

Or the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here

CWs: hucow; lactation; pregnancy; giving birth; body horror; horror; throat fucking; CNC; Implied heavy bondage; mention of body-altering drugs; inducing labour;

A/N: The request for this one indicates Anon wants some exposition on the monster in Episode 9 and the devices POV is hooked up to. I'll try to hit those bases but if I don't then expect some explanations in a followup part (which will be linked)

######################################

You must have been here for months. You don't know for sure, the only light in this room beaming from the fluorescent tubes above you. They only turnt on when one of the men came into the room to replenish food bowls or to check the machines milking you. You're getting heavier by the day. Your belly bulges every so often as the infant growing in you kicks and stretches. It's happening more and more recently. You can tell the movement from your orgasms keeps waking it.

It won't be long. The men attending you are dressed differently. The usual ones in overalls and tattoos are becoming less frequent, replaced by older men in white coats and glasses, slathering cold gel on your belly and pressing probes and stethoscopes up to your chest and your womb.

They seem to think it won't be long either. A gurney has been parked near you for days, waiting for you.

The devices milking your tits have been turned up, suckling more insistently. They've put more drugs in your food as well. You're being made to produce more milk, making sure you'll have plenty when it happens.

One day you woke to a man sat on a camping bed in front of you, reading a book, one eye on you. He'd check the machinery every so often before going back to his reading, never saying a word. You kept trying to get his attention, shaking your tits and sticking out your tongue to him. It was working. Every time the machinery sucking on your tits and your unnatural cock brought you to another mooing orgasm and you felt your eyes roll back as your cum flowed from you he got red and you could see his pants tent up. Every time you made sure to squeeze your tits together for him, until it worked.

You were already groaning and twitching from the machine, eyes rolling and tongue out, elbows pressing your tits together, waving them for all you're worth. The man stood from his bed and opened his pants, revealing his cock for you before unclipping you from the floor and pulling your face to his crotch. You breathed in his scent, licking at his balls and trying to catch one in your mouth. He pulled you up, licking as you went, to the tip of his cock before grabbing the back of your head and forcing you down on it

"Is that what you wanted? My cock in your throat?"

You could only moan your muffled reply. This is exactly what you wanted. You kept your tongue out, licking at the base of his cock as he fucked your face. The suction kept going on your cock and your tits. You pushed your finger into your swollen pussy, then another, then another until your whole hand was inside, fucking yourself as the man started to groan and hold down your throat and you gagged around him. His cock throbbed in your mouth as his balls tightened and he gave one last thrust into your mouth before coming to a groaning orgasm, pushing you over the edge.

Your abs clenched as you doubled over, his cock flopping out of your mouth and spurting cum across your face. Your cock was squirting too, your cum travelling down the tubes leading to the machinery milking you and to who knows where.

You felt liquid gush from your pussy. The clenching from your orgasm bearing down on your womb.

The man dragged you onto the gurney and lay you on your back, unplugging you from the machinery before standing it up and wheeling you out of the room.

The contractions kept coming, more and more as the labcoated men hurried to your side, sticking tubes in your arms. Cold fluid entered your veins and your head swam. The man in riding gear was there too, cupping the side of your face, his eyes soft. The pain had stopped now, though you could still feel your cervix stretching open and the pressure from your womb against the infant coming out of you.

The doctors told you to push, and you did. Again and again until the they started cheering. One of them passed you a bundle, swaddled in towels. "It's a boy"

The man in riding gear kissed your forehead "You did great, girl" he crooned in your ear.

It was an ugly baby. Most babies are ugly, but this one was particularly ugly. His face was distended into a muzzle, coarse fur covered his body, his legs were twisted backwards and a stubby tail protruded from his back. He was a child only a mother could love, and as he suckled on your breast, you knew.

You love him.

##################################

Post script: I'm not sure I hit the mark on this one. The throatfucking scene is hot, but I went into this intending it to be darker than it turned out, and I'm pretty sure that's what anon wanted. Problem is the POV character had already become accustomed to their situation at the end of part 1, this is just Stockholm syndrome.

I'll take this opportunity to ask again that if you have any requests for themes, fetishes or scenarios, please drop me an ask or a DM and I'll probably make it

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lipglossanon · 8 months ago

Text

Day 22

Kink: Bondage

Pairing: Leon S. Kennedy x Las Plagas!reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, bondage, Leon POV, coercion, noncon with hints of cnc, aphrodisiacs, dirty talk, degradation, unprotected sex, breeding kink AND breeding 👀, creampie

not proofread

Leon thinks it’s a lab he’s stumbled into; it would make sense with all the other crazy shit down here. Like who the hell needs killer laser grids as security?

But it’s different from the other ones he’s been in so far; there are full fledged humans floating in tanks in the middle of the room with a bank of computers off to the side. Walking over, he checks the screens to see if he can make heads or tails of anything.

That’s when you stumble into the room, wearing an ill fitting outfit, like a girl playing dress up as a scientist.

He turns, gun aiming at you but with his finger off the trigger.

“Who’re you?”

“Me?” You blink at him, one eye at a time like an owl.

Frowning at you, he quickly glances to make sure his safety is off before stepping closer.

“What’s your name?”

He tries a different approach; you look like you’ve been rode hard and put up wet—in other words, fucked.

You look around in confusion, hand raising up to press against your temple.

“I-I don’t remember,” you whisper. “I don’t know where this is or, or how I got here.”

You stutter over your words, voice rising in panic. Wild eyes turn back to him.

“Did you bring me here?!”

Holstering his gun, Leon holds his hands out placatingly, “Hey.. hey, I can help you. The name’s Leon.”

Your brows furrow cutely and he gives you a little smile.

“Why don’t we take a look around and see if anything jogs your memory?”

He poses it as question although it’s more of a directive. Something to give you some focus. Leon takes point and covers the entire room with you as his shadow. Coming across a clipboard on the corner table, he pauses to look through the list of names. Each line holds a name with a description of the person, all next to a little box that lists what experiment they fall under as well as any outcomes.

The next to last name is smudged to hell and back, so Leon can’t make it out at all, but you fit the description to a T; alarm bells blaring in his brain, Leon steels himself to read the rest.

A handful of words jump out at him:

Infected. Test run: Queen Plaga. ACTIVE.

It takes a lot to make Leon feel caught off guard—especially since he’s already neck deep into this nightmare mission—but your presence at his back makes him feel vulnerable in an entirely different way.

Placing the clipboard back down, he tries to keep up his nonchalant, helpful persona.

“Is anything coming back to you at all?” He turns around to face you, but it’s only empty space.

His eyes catch on a door closing on the other side of the room; it blends in perfectly with the walls once it shuts, so he keeps his eye on it as he walks over. Gently easing it open, he raises his gun as he moves into the room. It’s an office, divided with partitions into three cubicles from what he can tell.

Leon can hear you moving around at the far end, muttering to yourself. Sneaking closer, he steps around the gray divider, pointing his gun at you.

“Let’s just take it easy,” he glances around to make sure the office is truly empty; in doing so, he misses the tail slowly descending from your lab coat.

Quicker than a flash, you wrap your new appendage around his chest, pinning his arms in place. A quick swipe of your hands at his own, makes him drop the gun and he listens to it hit the ground with a metal clatter.

You shove him down into a chair, tail tightening around him so he can’t move. His mind flashes to the fight he had earlier with Rámon’s right hand.

“I-I didn’t want this,” you tear up. “I was sick. They said they could help me, so I came here and now I.. I-I’m different.”

“Don’t panic,” Leon softens his voice. “Look, we can get you help. There’s a machine down here that can get rid of it.”

Hands shaking, you bring them up to squeeze your head.

“I want that, but—“

Doubling over, you gasp in pain, hands dropping down to your pelvis. Leon watches as you collapse onto your knees. He wiggles, but your tail doesn’t budge an inch. You convulse for half a minute as he watches on in sympathy. He struggles again, but it leads to nowhere. As fast as your symptoms came on, they stop.

Under his gaze, you push yourself back up onto your feet, body moving oddly, like a marionette.

“Are you okay? If you let me go, I can help—“

Your head snaps up and you give him a big toothpaste ad kinda smile.

“Oh, everything’s fine. Perfectly in sync.”

You frown at him and Leon’s heart rate picks up. Something’s off in a big way and he’s practically a sitting duck.

“But you, you got rid of my gift.”

It feels like ice water douses his veins.

You click your tongue, “And that just won’t do, will it, Leon?”

He tries harder to get out of your grip, but after a few minutes he slumps back into the chair, winded and defeated.

“Silly,” you shake your head, turning your attention to the desk.

He eyes the cables you begin to rip out of everything. Once you think you have enough, you walk right up to him. Your hands make quick work of tying his arms and legs to the chair. Once he’s secured, you remove your tail.

“There,” you step back with another smile. “We can have a civil transaction.”

He tugs at his arms uselessly, the power cables cutting into his wrists and making him bleed.

You straddle his lap, “Now, be a good boy and this will all be over soon.”

Dread weighs heavy on his chest as you quickly undo his pants and pull out his soft cock. He bucks underneath you, but it doesn’t do any good. You tease your fingers across his tip and he starts to chub up. Leon’s always been easy, but he’s never hated himself for it more than now.

“Don’t do this,” he pleads. “We can—“

“Uh uh,” you chastise playfully, pushing three of your fingers into his mouth. “Good boys are seen not heard.”

His cock leaks at your words. You feather your fingers up and down his growing length until he’s stiff and heavy in your hand. His tip blurts precum when you giggle at him.

“My, my, what an eager, little boy,” you whisper at him like it’s a secret.

His cock throbs in your hand at your mocking endearment.

“Now, Agent,” you sit up straighter in his lap, fingers tapping against his tongue. “Since you so cruelly removed my sweet plagas from your chest, you’ll gift me with your seed.”

Your other hand slowly jerks him off and he whimpers.

“Breed me and we’ll call it even,” you murmur, eyes half lidded; Leon can’t stop his cock from twitching.

“Oh?” You grin, tail coming up to wrap around his chest again. “You like breeding soft, hot cunts, don’t you?”

He wishes you’d just kill him, embarrassment and shame filling his chest as his cock stiffens and bobs in your grip.

“Don’t worry,” you let go of his dick to pat his cheek. “You’re going to creampie me for as long as I need.”

You slide your fingers from his mouth and kiss him, drooling so much saliva he has to swallow before he chokes. Pulling away, he coughs as you shove your fingers back into his mouth.

“A little aphrodisiac never hurt anyone,” you laugh, raising your hips to slide your slacks and panties completely off.

The blood rushing through his ears muffles anything you just said. You settle back down, sandwiching his cock between your thighs to grind your wet slit against him. Using your free hand, you grab the base of his dick and notch it at your drippy hole. Leon groans against your fingers as he feels you sink all the way down on him, balls pressing against your ass.

You raise up with a mewl and sink down on his cock again.

“Oh, this feels…” you trail off with a moan.

He can’t stop himself and starts sucking and laving his tongue against your fingers. His whole body feels like it’s on fire and wants nothing more than to cum deep in your fat pussy. He knows he shouldn’t like it, but Leon can’t think past the slow deep strokes of his cock fucking your cunt.

“Good boy, you’ve learned your place so quickly,” you croon and he groans, arousal making his thoughts syrupy.

“Your balls must be so full,” you simper next to his ear, walls fluttering and squeezing his cock like crazy. “It aches, doesn’t it? You just need to empty those fat, heavy balls deep into my pussy; it’ll feel so good.”

Leon can’t take it, your snug little pussy gripping his cock like you were made for it. Shuddering, his eyes roll back as he spills deep inside your cunt.

“Ooh, yess, that’s it Agent, breed me full,” you murmur against his ear and he shoots off a few more ropes of cum into your clenching hole.

“Doesn’t that feel nice? Breeding such a wet, needy pussy?”

His thighs twitch and he whines around the fingers in his mouth. It’s like you’ve dosed him with something, he thinks, as his cock thickens again, stretching your cum filled pussy once more.

“We’ve got all the time in the world,” you promise.

#kinktober #kinktober 2024 #lipglossanon Kinktober 2024 #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #Leon s kennedy x las plagas!reader #las plagas!reader #fem!reader

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ilovejeongintoo · 8 months ago

Text

"𝕎𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕒 𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕪 𝕒 𝕘𝕒𝕞𝕖?"

Jigsaw (Saw) & the Reluctant Participant Kink: Interrogation Play Warnings: cnc, degradation (just a lil),Jungwon is lowkey scary, sex machine, orgasm denial, edging Prompt: Trapped and powerless, you find yourself at the mercy of the infamous Jigsaw, your body craving the twisted pleasure he offers. As control slips from your grasp, desire and submission blur, leading you down a dark, seductive path where surrender becomes the ultimate thrill. How far will you go when there's no turning back?

The second installment to my Kinktober List 2024.

Darkness surrounded you, you were drowning in the dark around you. Your eyes couldn't make out any surrounding walls the slightly dimmed, single light above your head not helping you see. It wasn't quiet though, a whirring in the background maybe some kind of machinery being a constant noise. A smell of old dust maybe cement or stone you couldn’t tell.

When you start becoming more aware you feel the press of cold metal around your wrists and ankles, moving them but being pinned too close to really move at all. They wrapped tight around your limbs and the chair you were tightly strapped to. Your heartbeat increases more the more conscious you become. Your head pounds when you try turning it and a metallic noise sounds out in the room.

Then you hear a voice, talking slow and calculated, and a shiver runs through you. You can't really tell where it's coming from, still disoriented.

There’s bold lettering on the walls spelling out the sentence;” Wanna play a game?” Though your muffled brain doesn’t catch the clue. The writing done with red dripping paint.

"You’ve been living in the shadows of your desires for too long, haven’t you?"

You know who it is immediately. The telltale sign of the room, his voice, his choice of words. It all points its fingers to one person. Jigsaw. You've heard of people disappearing but it all seemed so unbelievable, so distant until right now.

You can’t tell where the voice is coming from. A small old speaker situated in the corner gives the output of his voice a slight crackle. Each word was slow, methodical like he really wanted you to listen carefully.

“For too long, you've indulged in a life of selfishness and excess, but today you will confront the truths you’ve buried deep inside. Today, you’ll face your punishment.”

Your punishment? For what? What did you do? Your mind races to find any explanation. The last thing that you remember before getting here….

Your breath catches in your throat in panic. A hiss cuts through the air. The uselessly dimming light illuminating a corner. That's when you see it, the machine that you've been hearing since the beginning. A big construction of steel, wires, tubes, and complex-looking engineering.

Right in front stands a cloaked figure, masked in the infamous puppet.

Jigsaw

He steps forward brushing his fingers along the machine's surface, the sound ominous, making you scared of what is to come. His voice, though distorted from his mask is clearer now booming through the room without the speaker.

"This machine I constructed will test you—your limits, your fears, your deepest urges. It is the key to your survival."

You struggle more against your restraints, he only continues watching in amusement.

“Your life, your choices... they’ve led you here.”

He pauses slightly “You believe control gives you power, that by dominating others, you are invincible. But true power comes from understanding weakness. Now, you will be stripped of your control, left to endure the very submission you’ve forced onto others.”

You froze when he mentioned this. Yes, you had been a bit of a control freak and maybe that had led to your partners leaving you but did that really warrant you getting punished by the one and only Jigsaw killer? You weren’t a corrupt authority figure or a drug abuser. You just liked being in control of everything, your life, your decisions, your partners, and everything in the bedroom.

You couldn’t let yourself be vulnerable with them but it could have been worse, you kept telling yourself.

What if I can’t take this? What if I break? The thought sends shivers down your spine but maybe… maybe I deserve this.

Your brain supplies uselessly, just adding unnecessary fear.

The chains tighten against your body suddenly, pulling you upright and facing the machine. It’s louder now as if it was preparing itself for the task ahead.

"You see, this is not a game of pain alone, but a game of pleasure and control—of denial and submission. If you wish to live, you must learn the cost of indulgence. Every choice you make will bring you closer to release... or your end.”

Your eyes widen in fear your body trembling just slightly

He moves closer his voice deeper and more intimate now. You can see a mop of brown hair peeking out from his hood and it drops slightly in front of the mask.

“But I warn you... the release you seek may not be the one you think.”

The lights turn on and off, and a cold metallic arm extends from the machine, hovering inches from your body. Terrified you look at it then back at your captor as if your pleading look would get him to release you.

“Your test begins now.”

The metal arms the machine carries click further, stirring in their place. For a moment you hold your breath in anticipation of what's going to come next. The cold air hushes against your skin and you become aware; that you’re still clothed but for how long?

He steps closer his voice as calm as ever though the weight of his words grows heavier each time.

“You’ve spent your life hiding behind the armor of your choices. Your clothes... your mask. But here, there is no mask. No barriers.”

He makes another pause that drags on uncomfortably long so.

“The truth is revealed when there’s nothing left to hide.”

He gestures slowly to the arms and before you can react they lurch forward, grasping at your clothes and removing them one by one. There’s no aggression no rush, the movements are slow, practiced sharp motions stripping you of your last clothing items.

They easily slice through the fabric and your skin forms goosebumps from the cold in the room. You stay impossible still though in case they would accidentally cut not just the fiber.

Jigsaw watches without any noise or reaction, he sees every twitch of discomfort, every taken breath, and every bodily response. His gaze isn’t lustful, it’s calculating almost clinical as if undressing you was just another test, just another day.

He was doing more than just removing your clothes, he was getting rid of your last defenses. You press your eyes closed in hopes of waking up from this nightmare and if not just helping you slip into a state of ignorance bliss.

He notices immediately.

“The more you fight, the longer this will take,” he murmurs. “You cannot hide from your desires. And soon, you won’t be able to hide from mine.”

The final fabric falling to the floor you open your eyes again, left completely naked, completely exposed, bound to the machine, revealed by the forever flickering overhead light. Your skin burns with the cold but even more from the burning gaze of being watched - Jigsaw’s masked gaze drinking up everything.

For a moment, all is still. The whir of the machine quiets, leaving only the sound of their ragged breathing.

“Now,” Jigsaw finally says, stepping closer, his voice low and deliberate, “we can begin.”

The masked man’s voice breaks the silence, his tone calm but heavy with purpose.

"You’ve spent your life controlling everything and everyone around you. But what happens when the one thing you can’t control… is yourself?"

He steps closer around you, circling like you’re prey and he’s the predator that will sink his teeth into you. The constant noise of the machine does nothing to calm you down, it just furthers the energy in the room.

"Here’s your first question: When was the last time you let someone else take control?"

You thought about it for a moment, your cheeks heating up despite the situation given, out of embarrassment at having to admit to these kinds of questions.

"I don’t remember. It’s been a long time." you reluctantly respond, unwilling to give up any more information. You were hoping he didn’t know you too closely to think of this as a “wrong” answer. Playing stupid in front of a genius killer.

“Please you don’t have to do any of this. I already learned my lesson, just…please let me go.” You tried reasoning because you really would try to change.

You gulped your fear down slightly. Not willing to show how much he affected your emotions. He can’t know, because exactly that, he will use against you.

Jigsaw’s mask tilts slightly, as if in curiosity, though his voice remains in the same tone as always, no hint of any emotion. He ignored your effort to try and convince him to let you go.

"You’re not as good at avoiding the truth as you think. You’ve let someone take control before... and you’ll do it again, whether you admit it or not. But denial has its consequences."

His hand moved in his dark coat, probably pressing a button.

Your heart rate spiked up. And the machine’s arm buzzes, the hum rising in pitch as it begins its cruel teasing, it started slow, the touch foreign. A little uncomfortable on your skin, surgical. The coldness of the metal pipes that brushed against your sides contrasted with the softness of the hands themselves. They caressed your chest, not going straight to torturing your most intimate parts. They just slightly massaged your nipples, making them hard rather quickly because of how soft the hands themselves felt. You stared down at them in focus and bit your lips to stifle any noises.

You could deal with this, if it stayed just like this, which you seriously doubted. But nonetheless, you pep-talked yourself.

Just when you thought you were getting used to the sensations on your body the arms moved down your body until they reached the place that was dripping now. One circled your clit, and buzzed a little in vibration. It made you try and curl into yourself, denying yourself to enjoy the pleasurable feel but your restraints kept you immobile, you could only squirm and clench your teeth to not make any noise however when the other one moved down to your slicked-up hole, and began pushing a solid digit in, a moan slipped out.

You were slowly breaking, each movement making it harder to concentrate, soon you’d have to choose between stifling your noises and answering your captor.

“Avoidance won’t save you. You can’t control what you refuse to face.”

A pause. Then, the next question cuts through the silence.

“Tell me... when was the last time you let yourself lose control—completely?”

The words hang in the air like a challenge, daring you to confront your deepest vulnerabilities.

And you think about his words from before, there was a slight warning in it, making you rethink how you should reply to this one. You pause a little more.

"I… I don’t know. I can’t remember." You nonetheless answer.

His laughter, low and almost mocking, fills the room. Oh, you fucked up, didn’t you? Regret flooding your system immediately, and wishing you could take your response back.

"You’re lying to yourself now. You remember.” He steps behind you now. The hair on your neck rises in anticipation and fright of not being able to see him. Losing that control so easily.

“You’ve lost control before, and you will again. But you’re still clinging to your delusion of power. Let’s see how much longer that lasts."

The machine’s touch becomes more relentless, it drags so deliciously over your folds, then back into your hole and out again. teasing you more relentlessly now. You were so close but it just wasn’t quite enough. Each time you almost let yourself step over that edge it would get pulled away from you. The constant denial drives the message home: the more you refuse to admit the truth, the less control you have.

There’s only one way out of this. To answer honestly. And that’s the thing you dread most.

The machine turns so loud now, but you can barely focus on anything besides the constant stimulation your pussy is receiving. You’re so so close. Your body is trembling in frustration from not getting any release your breathing is shallow and quick. Your ass was soaked in your own juices making the slide so wet. Your hips unconsciously tried pushing against the hands searching for just enough stimuli to reach your high.

Jigsaw’s voice, calm but with an undercurrent of menace, cuts through the tension. And he steps back into your line of sight his tall frame intimidating even if he isn’t physically big.

“You’re still avoiding the truth. How long do you think you can hold onto this delusion?”

The pressure increases, the sensation teetering on the edge of unbearable, and yet it keeps you hanging just short of satisfaction. The more you resist, the more helpless you feel. The room grows colder, the air heavy with the weight of Jigsaw's impending next question.

Jigsaw’s voice becomes darker, more insistent. He unbuttoned the first buttons of his cape, slowly taking it off. Revealing a dress shirt, a grey vest, a tie, and matching slacks underneath. Formal wear, something you definitely didn’t expect

You threw the cape into a corner of the room. His clothes pleasingly fit his form, lean muscles making them fit on him deliciously. You immediately shook your head from the thoughts invading your mind.

“Since you can’t seem to tell the truth about losing control, let’s make it simpler.”

You sigh slightly in relief, maybe he would make this easier on you. He pauses, letting the silence stretch painfully long, allowing your mounting frustration to fester.

“When was the last time you were forced to submit to someone else’s will?”

He leans closer, the weight of his presence suffocating, even though you can’t see his face clearly behind the mask. You could just slightly make out his dark eyes behind the mesh of the eye holes.

His hand came up to your face picking it up and tilting it, making you automatically have to let your eyes stay on him.

“Tell me, who made you feel powerless?” With his eyes piercing you it was like he lured the truth out of you.

You felt the machine's arms twitch, waiting for the answer, threatening more denial or perhaps something worse. The movement completely halting made your answer finally be something akin of the truth.

“I… I was forced before. It’s happened before, and I hated it.” Your thoughts flashed back to your ex, how no matter what you told him, he just did whatever he wanted. You had lost total control not just of your guys’ relationship but also yourself. And you never absolutely ever wanted to experience something like that again.

Now you were forced to confront that same thing.

The room falls silent, and for the first time, Jigsaw’s voice softens, though it still carries a chilling edge. He caresses your head in a gesture that was supposed to be reassuring but made it feel more mockingly with the mask staring down at you.

“Good. You’re starting to understand. Submission is not a weakness, but denial of it is. The truth you fear most is what will set you free... if you survive.”

The machine’s teasing is slower now, giving them just enough reprieve to catch their breath. The chains remain tight, but the suffocating pressure eases. Jigsaw’s voice lowers to a whisper. His hold on you releasing.

“But this is far from over. You’ve only scratched the surface of your truth. There’s still more to reveal.” He steps away from you, crossing his arms and tilting his head in observation.

The tension from your body slightly eases from the slowed-down movements, giving you time to take some much-needed shaky breaths. The cold air once again seems more present now, prickling your skin your heart still pounding from the onslaught of pleasure from before. The machine’s grip eases just a fraction.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally speaks, his voice quieter but still filled with unmatched control.

“Good. Admitting that you’ve submitted before means you’re starting to understand the game. Submission isn’t weakness—it’s inevitable when your will is tested beyond its limits.”

It almost sounded like he wanted to reassure you that it was okay, to admit these dark vulnerabilities to him. Well if you did, you might as well do it here. You doubt a serial killer will judge you much for what you’ll be saying.

A brief pause, his masked face tilting the other way slightly as though studying you.

“But don’t mistake this for mercy. Your truth is just the beginning. Now we see how deep your submission runs.”

The machine remains poised, its presence a constant threat, but for now, it lingers, awaiting the next phase of the game.

Jigsaw steps closer, the sound of his footsteps sharp against the cold floor. The black dress shoes that you take notice of now, snapping against the concrete. He’s still calm, still methodical, but now there’s a palpable shift in his demeanor. He’s pushing deeper into your mind, now that he knows you have started to break.

“Since you’ve confessed to losing control, it’s time we explore something else.”

His voice lowers, the intensity rising in his tone as he moves even closer. Each time he was about to ask a question your heart would pick up a few beats, the only thing filling you being pure and utter terror.

“You’re not just afraid of losing control… are you? You’re afraid of how much you crave it.”

Your breath hitched because you knew, you knew how right he was about that. The tension in the air thickens as he leans in, his breath cold against your skin. A shaky breath escaped you at the contact. Just a little more and his mask would brush against you if he would just take it off and do exactly that. You almost missed the constant rubbing and teasing the hands provided.

“So tell me... when was the last time you gave in to that craving and enjoyed being powerless?”

The question is like a knife, cutting into your deepest, most secret desires. Your body stiffens, the air suddenly feeling even colder, as you realize what Jigsaw is really asking—the fear and desire to submit intertwined.

“I… I don’t want to admit it, but I have enjoyed it before. I didn’t mean to, but I did.” Your eyes fell shut again at your admission like that could hide you.

Jigsaw falls silent, and the air feels thick with tension, each second feels longer and longer. The mechanical humming seems to soften slightly, but the weight of the your confession hangs in the room like a dark cloud.

“Now you’re starting to understand.” His face moves away but not very far.

The machine slows, giving the victim just enough relief to let their body relax, though the threat still lingers. Jigsaw steps back, watching as the victim trembles, their skin still sensitive from the teasing denial.

“Admitting you’ve enjoyed powerlessness is the first step. But now comes the real test. We’re going to see how much you can take before that craving becomes your breaking point.”

Jigsaw stands still for a moment, letting the weight of the victim’s confession settle in. Processing. The air feels heavier, your pulse racing as you realize what you’ve just admitted. The machine, which had briefly slowed its torment, hums again, but this time with a new energy.

"So, you’ve finally confessed. You’ve craved the very thing you’ve always denied—powerlessness."

He steps forward, his presence even more imposing. The cold metal of the machine hums louder, and the victim's body, trembling with anticipation, tightens as the teasing pulses resume. The sensation is different now faster, more concentrated more focused in a new vigor.

Jigsaw’s voice lowers, almost intimate, as he leans in close to the victim’s ear.

"Now, let’s test how deep that craving goes."

He flips a switch on the machine, and instantly, the teasing becomes an overwhelming onslaught of pleasure and pain, pushing you closer to the edge than they’ve ever been before. In a matter of seconds, you're back to panting like a dog in heat. The mechanical arms grip tighter, pulling your body taut as the pulses of sensation ripple through you. It’s like they knew each brush, each thrust, each button to get you closer and closer.

You buck involuntarily against the restraints, your breath quickening, muscles straining. Your moans ring out clearly through the room no restrain anymore in them.

"Do you want to submit completely?" Jigsaw’s voice echoes, a command hidden in the question.

Jigsaw stands still for a moment, letting the weight of the victim’s confession settle in. The air feels heavier, their pulse racing as they realize what they’ve just admitted. The machine, which had briefly slowed its torment, hums again, but this time with a new energy.

"So, you’ve finally confessed. You’ve craved the very thing you’ve always denied—powerlessness."

He steps forward, his presence even more imposing. The cold metal of the machine hums louder, and the victim's body, trembling with anticipation, tightens as the teasing pulses resume. The sensation is different now—more intense, more invasive—yet still withholding that elusive release.

Jigsaw’s voice lowers, almost intimate, as he leans in close to the victim’s ear.

"Now, let’s test how deep that craving goes."

He flips a switch on the machine, and instantly, the teasing becomes an overwhelming onslaught of pleasure and pain, pushing the victim closer to the edge than they’ve ever been before. The mechanical arms grip tighter, pulling their body taut as the pulses of sensation ripple through them.

Your body bucks involuntarily against the restraints, your breath quickening, muscles straining.

"Do you want to submit completely?" Jigsaw’s voice echoes, a command hidden in the question.

"Tell me," Jigsaw continues, his voice a dangerous whisper. "If you want release, beg for it. Admit you have no control left. If you refuse, you’ll stay here, until your mind and body break."

You can barely think, your body trembling involuntarily as the machine keeps you teetering on the edge, closer to release than ever but still denied. Every muscle strains against the chains, to try and get out, as you feel your resolve slipping.

"Submit completely," Jigsaw orders, the demand hanging heavy in the air. "Or resist, and you will never know release again."

It was clear what your answer was going to be. Too out of it to even try to resist his commands. Too fucking desperate to get that release, to feel yourself leak onto the machinery below. To make a mess of everything even more.

You're too overwhelmed by the relentless sensations, gasping for breath. Aching for release, the denial becoming unbearable, bordering painful.

You wanted to let go, absolutely you did. You wanted somebody to completely take over the reins that you so desperately held on to. To give yourself completely over, to not focus on any control at all because that someone, you would trust completely.

“Please…” you whisper, your voice trembling, soaked in desperation. “Please, I can’t take it anymore. I submit. I’m not in control. I… I need it.” Each word spills from your lips, raw and pleading, your gaze locked onto his, craving touch, his touch

A sinister smile creeps beneath his mask, a dark victory shining in his eyes. The machine’s movements slow, almost as if savoring your confession. The restraints tighten one last time, an agonizing reminder of your submission, before—release. The mechanical pulses surge, overwhelming your senses in a tidal wave of sensation.

But it’s his fingers you feel now—long, thick, and unmistakably human. Your eyes snap open, and there he is, Jigsaw, looming over you, a predator inching closer. As his fingers plunge deep inside you, you can’t help but feel the unmistakable hardness pressing against your thigh. The heat radiates from him, mingling with your own arousal, igniting a primal fire within.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with lust. “So eager to be used. You’re just a filthy little thing, begging for it.” Your body convulses at his words, caught in a dizzying mix of pleasure and pain. Each thrust of his fingers drags against your walls, expertly hitting that sensitive spot the machines had cruelly denied.

“Can you feel how much I want you?” he breathes, his breath quickening, sending shivers down your spine. “You’re mine now. I’m going to make you feel every bit of it. I’ll take that control and give you exactly what you crave” The way he speaks makes your head spin, and you realize he’s as lost in this moment as you are, his arousal palpable and intoxicating.

“Good. You’ve learned your lesson,” he growls, his voice a low, seductive rumble that vibrates through your core. “But remember… this is only the beginning of your real submission. I want you to scream for me, to beg for more.” The tension hangs thick in the air, the two of you bound together in this dark, twisted dance of desire.

As your mind spirals into blissful oblivion, everything fades to black—just as it all began. You’re left spent, breathless, fully aware that you’ve relinquished the control you once clung to so desperately. In this dark embrace, surrender becomes the sweetest ecstasy, a thrilling intertwining of your desires and his.

#kinktober 2024 #enhypen smut #jungwon smut #yang jungwon #dark fic

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cupidkay-666 · 6 months ago

Text

“Corruption”

Warning: Cnc, Knifeplay, breeding kink if you squint, cuckholding, unprotected sex, choking, praise kink, degradation, etc. 🫶🏻

“Darling, we are going to be late for church.” Your heard your boyfriend yell up the stairs of the small town house that you and him had bought 6 years ago. “Coming!”, you yelled back down. This was an every Sunday routine. You would get up in a separate bedroom than him, the two of you would eat breakfast together, and then you would take alittle to long in the shower because you couldn’t stop touching yourself under the hot water. It was all the same routine just like every other day in your ordinary life. You looked into your closet before deciding on a light pink frilly dress. It was your favorite.

As you walked down the stairs you saw Jack, your boyfriend of 7 years. He was tall, with a skinny build, he had golden hair and light green eyes. He had on a light blue button up shirt, with white dress pants and polished shoes. So put together. Always. “You look beautiful as always y/n .” He said in a sincere tone. You looked down at your figure to take in what he was seeing. You looked at the way your body curved, you hade a slimmer waist compared to the rest of your body, your hips were noticeably larger than your waist accompanied by thick thighs and a plump rounded ass. Not to mention your breast, they weren’t huge, or small. Just a perfect medium.

As you rode to church, you wondered if your figure had anything to do with the fact that jack hadn’t touched you. Of course he had kissed you and held your hand but nothing more in 7 years. Was he simply not attracted to my body? Was he with me out of sheer convenience? You pushed the thoughts aside and got ready to put a smile on your face as you entered the church. The service was nothing out of the ordinary. After, you and Jack went to the same diner you went to every Sunday. The rest of the evening continued how it always did and always had.

The next morning you woke up for work and quickly got dressed. You threw on a cute tan skirt that fell right above your knee, a white v-neck sweater, and some loafers from under your bed. You left your hair down, it curled at the end as it fell to the middle of your back. You worked at the local paper office as an editor. The work day went by without anything of interest, that is until you was getting ready to leave. That’s when you got a text from Jack saying,” Hey Y/N I’m going to have to stay late at work. Which means I won’t be able to pick you up from work tonight, do you think you could walk home or take a bus?” You looked at the text message with an unsettled look. Instead of letting your boyfriend know of your worry, you simply text back “that’s fine! I can manage.” If the truth was know, you didn’t really enjoy the idea of being alone at night. You decided there was no reason to dwell on things out of your control and started up the sidewalk, you was only a few blocks from your house after all.

As you was walking home, something stopped you in your tracks. You had caught a whiff of cigarette smoke that make your head feel alittle fuzzy. You turned to see bright neon lights blinding you. You looked up at the sign and began to mouth the words,” THE LEAKY BARREL” in huge bold letters. You shuffled your thighs as you felt your core become warm. You took a step forward…. Was this huge red fucking flag in front of you the change of scenery you needed? Was god tempting your temptations?

You couldn’t stop yourself when your feet began to carry you through the front doors. As you entered the establishment you took in the environment around you. It was dark, you could barley make out anything in the small building, you could see tables and chairs scattered about, and a few slot machines in a corner, as well as the many eyes that were tearing you apart as you walked to the bar to find a seat.

“What will y’a have?” You looked up to see an attractive man, with short voluminous hair, he was tall…taller than your boyfriend, he was absolutely huge, his muscles were quite apparent under his black tee shirt, you noticed the name tag on his shirt “Dean”. You looked up to his eyes to see the darkest black eyes you had ever seen. You felt your breath fall short as you responded “Could I just get a water with lemon, Dean.”, you emphasized his name as you looked at his name tag back to him. Loud thunder of laughter came from him as he turned to get you a drink, “Ok princess, a “water” it is.” You felt your cheeks flush at the nickname. As he sat your drink down you looked down at the clear liquid. As you took a huge drink you felt alarms go off in your head, “not water… NOT WATER”. You felt your throat burn and your eyes start to water at the brims. You couldn’t stop yourself as you started to cough immediately. Through strangled coughs you managed,” What was that?!” You looked up at him with a piercing stare. “Calm down princess it’s just liquor, you’ll be fine. To come into a bar and order water is a joke.” Dean said while trying not to chuckle at you. You rolled your eyes and started to sip on your drink while in deep thought about your relationship. What would Jack think if he saw me here? Drinking? You had barley noticed when Dean had slipped into the back room to make a phone call. The more glasses you had to drink, the less you seemed to notice. Like when it was just you and Dean left in the Bar. Or when a tall man had took a seat right next to you. You turned to peak at the man just to realize he was wearing a mask. That’s when reality hit you. You needed to leave. As you got to your feet everything felt heavy, like the force of the earth was dragging you down. You slowly made yourself to the front door just to realized it was locked…. But why? When did the doors get locked??

A cold chill ran down your spine as you heard Dean speak from behind you “Sorry princess, doors are locked…. looks like you’ll be staying here tonight.” And with that Dean grabbed you by the waist and hoisted you over his shoulder, through your panic you saw the masked man start to close the blinds on the front wall of the bar. Nobody would be able to see you. You started to kick and scream but Dean just chuckled lightly “Nobody is gonna hear you princess…. Except me and him.” He said as he gestured towards the masked man. Dean took you to the back room of the bar and threw you on a cheap bed. As soon as you tried to get up to run he was on you, cuffing you to the bed rails. You could feel the tears flooding your eyes as you realized you couldn’t do anything but beg. “Please, please I have money in my purse just take it and I can leave” your voice was barley more than a whisper. Dean just looked at you and back at the masked man “What do y’a say? I’ll leave it up to you.” He was speaking to this masked stranger. My heart dropped when he just silently shook his head no in response. This pleased Dean as his lips curled up into a slight smile.

Before you could react Dean was holding you by your waist as the masked man ripped the skirt from your body. “Not as innocent as you seem princess…. Tsk tsk tsk, lacy red panties.” Dean said as his mouth seemed to start to drool. The masked man spread you legs open so they could get a better look at you. You turned your face away from them. The humiliation was too much. The masked man used his index finger to feel you through the light fabric of your panties. He brought his finger up, when Dean saw he grabbed you by your hair to force you to look. “Soaking fucking wet, for two strangers. Awww turns out our little princess is just a needy little slut.” He said as he started to grab into his pocket. His hand returned with a huge pocket knife. Your breath stopped as you started to thrash around violently. Dean’s voice is the only thing that made you stop immediately “It’ll be your fault if this knife accidentally slips and cuts you Princess, if I was you I would calm the fuck down and be still for me.” You felt the knife cut your tight fitted sweater from your body. “Goddamn look at those, absolutely beautiful.”, Dean said as he took in your breast cupped in a red bra that matched your panties. He wasted no time cutting the bra down the middle, the second the fabric was gone your tits sprung free. You could feel the cold air hit them immediately. You was humiliated at the light moan that left your lips. Both men took notice of the noise that came from you. “Looks like princess is going to enjoy this more than we thought.” Dean said as he moved down to your panties to cut them free.

“Please… I’m a virgin. Please don’t do this… what will my boyfriend think…” you could barley look at them as you croaked out the words. Deans eyes glazed over in lust,” shhh shhh princess don’t worry about him right now, you have too men here happy and ready to split that tight little virgin pussy in half” he said as he softly caressed your cheek. “By all means you can get started first, I plan on starting up here anyway” he said to the masked man behind him with a smirk. With that said, Dean took one of your breast into his mouth and started to suck away at your rosy pink nipple. Using his other hand to flick and pinch the other breast. The masked man was just looking at you, you could feel his eyes on you through the mask. He settled in closer to your core, when you tried to close your legs he spread them open and landed an open handed slap to your pussy. This must have enraged him because nothing could’ve prepared you for the two thick fingers being stuffed in you. You screamed as you felt yourself stretch around his fingers. Dean looked up and was simply mesmerized by the sight. He moved down to get a better look while rubbing circles on your clit as the masked man continued to probe you with his fingers. “Look at the way she’s sucking you in, fuck she looks so fucking tight…not to mention how wet she is.”, Dean said before looking back up at you slightly. You was trying your best to hold it in, but when Dean started doing circular motions on your clit you couldn’t stop the small high pitched noises from escaping your throat. You didn’t know what was about to happen but you could feel your abdomen tighten, your head start to become blank, and you knew it was coming. “God I can’t wait to stuff this little pussy full of my cum” Dean whispered in a low growl and that did it, you came hard around a strangers fingers. You felt the tears fall from your cheek as you let out a sweet moan. The masked man held the two fingers up while looking directly at you. He slide his mask up slightly just enough to lick his fingers off before smirking and returning the mask back into place. “My turn, don’t worry I’ll break her in for you.”, Dean said as he patted the masked man on the back and began to strip his clothes from his body.

You couldn’t help but admire his body, he was absolutely beautiful. He came up close to your face “If I uncuff you, are you gonna be good for me?” He whispered in my ear. I turned my head away from him too embarrassed to look at him and replied “Yes…” “That won’t work princess, I need a yes SIR” he said in a dark tone as he pulled my hair so I would have to face him. My eyes were burning from his gaze. He looked at me like he was going to devour me whole on the spot. “..yes sir.”, I whispered. “Good girl, you are finally learning your place Princess.”, he said as he kissed my forehead while unlocking the cuffs. “Now I want you to lay just like that, and spread those pretty thighs for me, be a good little whore for me now.”, he said as he positioned himself in between my legs. The whole time I couldn’t stop from looking over at the masked man who was quietly just watching this all unfold. Dean was positioning himself at my entrance, lightly rubbing the tip of his cock at my wet hole. His cock was longer than it was thicker, with distinct veins, his tip was more girthy than the rest of his shaft. “Ok princess, now just hold real still for me, gonna make you feel so fucking good.” He said as he started to push himself inside me at a slow pace.

“Oh god, it’s too big!” you pleaded as you tried to squirm away from the burning stretch in your pussy. “No God here princess, just us. Now sit still so I can take good care of you” he said as he pushed into me further. You couldn’t stop yourself from squirming away, just as you thought maybe you was getting used to it, you felt him grab my hips and slam his whole length into you. A gut wrenching scream pulled through your throat, you could barley hear him when he growled out “I told you to fucking sit still, fuck you feel amazing around me, and would you look at that, so you really was a virgin….. well not anymore.”, he chuckled. “He started to move at a agonizing pace, you could feel him in every crevice of your pussy, you could feel him beating into your womb. You felt yourself start to lose focus of everything as you felt your body because overly hot. “Awe look at that, she’s already becoming a cock drunk little whore, hmm maybe she needs something to pull her out of her bliss.” Dean said to the masked man in the corner. Dean pulled completely out of you and flipped you over to where your ass was in the air before slamming back into you all at once. The second you went to moan you felt your mouth become full. The masked man had stuffed his cock down your throat. He grabbed the back of your head as they fucked you back and forth between them. His cock was bigger and longer than Dean’s. You was starting to lose the ability to breath it seemed like. “Goddamnit I’m getting close, fuck, can’t wait to fill you up.”, you heard Dean moan from behind you. “Fuck you’d like that wouldn’t you princess, to feel my cum all in your tight wrecked pussy.” You didn’t have it in you to protest, plus how could with your mouth stuffed to the brim. You felt the hot ropes shoot through you as Dean finished. He pumped it all deep into you so none of it was wasted.

Just then they both pulled out at once. Your body went limp and you fell to the mattress. “I think I’ll leave you two, y’a know to get better acquainted with eachother.” Dean said as he planted a kiss on your forehead. The masked man flipped you back over on your back, you could barley keep your eyes open through hooded lids. He noticed this and immediately slapped you hard across the face. Your eyes popped open immediately. He never spoke. It was terrifying. He simply unzipped his pants and positioned himself between your thighs. Unlike Dean who took his time more, this man didn’t. He slammed his full length into you without warming you up at all. Using Dean’s cum as lubricant. You lost your breath as you felt him bottom out in you. He lifted your legs above your head and started to reach into the depths of what felt like your entire soul. “Please please I can’t take it, it’s too much! Please it hurts!”, you cried out but he wasn’t listening. He continued to absolutely fucking wreck you until you was a teary eyed, drooling, wet mess. When you wouldn’t stop crying he placed his hand around your throat and squeezed until you saw stars. Causing your pussy to tighten around him more than you knew possible, it felt like he was absolutely ripping you apart. Just as you was about to fall over the edge he whispered “who knew an “innocent” thing like you would actually just be a filthy fucking whore.” That did it. You immediately began to cream all over his cock, and he followed right after you filling you completely with his cum. That voice. It was familiar. Before you could think it through, your reached up and pulled the mask off him.

“…..Jack?”

#smut #censored for virgins #submisive and breedable #bd/sm kink #r@pe kink #free use kink #corruption kink #knife k!nk #knifeplay #breeding toy #bd/sm breeding #praise k!nk #degrading k1nk #degrade and humiliate me

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grievous-writes · 3 months ago

Text

𝔹𝕆ℕ𝔻𝔼𝔻 𝔹𝕐 𝕊𝕀ℕ

ℙ𝔸ℝ𝕋 𝕀𝕀𝕀 - 𝔹𝔸𝔻 𝕄𝕆ℝℕ𝕀ℕ𝔾 ... 𝕎𝕆ℝ𝔻 ℂ𝕆𝕌ℕ𝕋 - 𝟛𝟛𝟜𝟚

<- Part Two Next Part ->

What happens to cherubs when they fall? There was already the damning example of God's golden Seraphim, where his fall from grace landed him upon the burning throne of Hell; to rule for all of time. A curse and, weirdly enough, a blessing. But you, a lone cherub sent on a nearly impossible quest? You landed smack dab in the middle of a courtroom in session; complete with a stunned jury and judge with burning eyes.

Fandoms: HelluvaBoss & HazbinHotelPairing: Female Reader / Fallen Cherub / “Asteria” x SatanGenre: SPICY RomanceRating: Mature +18

Tropes: slow burn, forbidden love, forced proximity, size difference, enemies to lovers, age gap, hurt & comfort, “Who did this to you?”, touch her and 💀

CWs: really possessive behavior, mild yandere, ALL THE SPICE, blood and gore, mentions of death, swearing, hard smut, personally RIP christianity to shreds, mild blood play, toxic people and situations, violence violence VIOLENCE, p in v, power imbalance, light dubcon, CNC (Honestly, just expect so much more down the line cause this story will develop out of control eventually!)

Notes: Reader is female (she/her), multi chapters, LONG posts and very little editing cause I HATE editing. I don’t know how to do TAGS quite yet, but let me know if you want to be notified for each update~

Your stomach gave a low rumble, ached, and your mouth salivated. It took you a long while to understand what your body needed, a sensation you’d not felt in little under 3000 years.

Story continues after the cut ...

During the night Satan had moved your prison into another room, placed you on a wide mantle built over an obsidian fireplace. The large space that was flashy as your hot-air bag of a dragon jailer and you were set as a piece of decor. Your best guess was you were in a living room, but the deep black marble floors and bright red wallpaper elevated it to a weird-pseudo ballroom.

One side of the space seemed to be a dedicated lounge, where a huge round couch sat before an impossibly large TV mounted on a wall. Littered on the ground were a scattering of books, piles of paperwork, and magazines - With “Weekly Workouts for the WICKED” and “Where is Your Center? Meditations for the Newly Grounded” being two opened issues placed on a black coffee table. Beside the TV on the wall were paintings of fire, depictions of ancient deaths, notable punishments you had no name for, and several overly dramatic images of Satan himself. He was either bare chested or holding flaming swords while covered in blood.

There was also a large painting that stood alone from the rest, but it was covered by a black curtain. And by the obvious dust and spider web decorating the fabric, whatever was covered had not been looked at for sometime.

Across from the living room was a dining hall, but lacked a lot of places to sit and eat. There was still a table set to one side, and while still nice quality, it was small and only had two chairs. The table and its decor looked untouched, clean but left to sit. You guessed that Satan didn’t eat there. Instead, there were even more workout machines and racks of various dumbbells and equipment. Now those did seem to be in constant use, scuffed with claw marks and weld repairs on almost everything. And a well worn punching bag hung where a chandelier would be.

There was also a smattering of inspirational posters and some depicting nearly nude women. You did your best to not look at those. You weren’t prude, but it had been sometime since you had seen someone that pretty. Confident in her own skin. The model had curves in places you didn’t, even now with your new form. You turned from the poster and sighed; noting that the whole room smelt of musky brimstone and burnt wood.

Which only grew more pungent when Satan drew close.

As you heard resonating footsteps coming your way, your stomach gave another growl; demanding attention and care.

Satan turned from around a corner of pitch black hallway, his head hung a bit lower than usual, as if sleep still weighed down his neck. He wore long grey lounging pants, simple shoes, and a skin tight black tank top. The man yawned, his long tongue and sharp yellow teeth on display like a great serpent. He clicked his teeth together, cracking his jaw, and then lazily walked over to the couch. Where flopped himself onto the durable furniture and he flicked on the TV with a quick click of a remote. A loud commercial rocked the once silent den and the wings over your ears flattened to your head to try and buffer the noise.

“My Lord?” You tried to call out to him, but your voice was outmatched by the TV.

“Satanus? Sir?!” You stood up and shouted this time.

Nothing. Satan just drank from the steaming cup of black coffee he held, and it was so strong it burnt your nose from higher on the mantle.

Your stomach damned attention and desperation set in as you hit the wall of your prison. Some part of you expected to feel pain from hitting the barrier, but nothing came. You frowned and hit the bubble again to make sure. And as you did, you noticed that your banded prison shifted faintly. Curious.

Taking a quick look at Satan, paying you no mind, a mischievous idea came to you. If he couldn’t hear you, you’d make him see you. And maybe if he saw you, he’d feed you. If not for the sake of being kin, he needed you alive for the waiting trial.

There was not much space in your bubble for a running start, but you managed to back up just enough to slam yourself against the wall hard enough to make your ball roll forward. You slipped but got up, changing again and again as you managed to wobble your cage closer and closer to the edge of the mantle. As you drew closer to the edge and looked down, you realized you were near three stories off the ground. It made sense given how big the dragon was.

You prayed he’d see you falling before you landed. If not that, then at the bare minimum it’d not hurt when you came crashing down. Just to be safe, you tried calling out to Stan once more.

“Hey! Look over here!” You waved your hands widely in the air and jumped a few times, but he merely cracked his neck and changed the channel.

With a frown and deep breath, your resolve hardened, you continued to slam your body against the ball. As you got to the edge of the mantle, you felt the sway of unbalance threatening your last chance. With one final push, you threw your weight into the wall and your prison silently rolled off. You hadn't anticipated your small body inside being lifted into the air as you fell, nor your hunger pained stomach flipping around like a ball-bearing in a bell. You blinked only a few times, catching a hint of red and gold lashing out to you, before you closed your eyes and braced.

There was a violent lurch as gravity snapped, colors morphed, shapes bent, and you yelped as your head painfully whipped around. Your body slammed to the bottom of your prison and an agonized hiss leaked from your gritted teeth as you tried to settle. Everything hurt, your ears rang, and your vision spun. But you were still able to make out Satan yelling.

“What in all the seven rings did you do that for?!” Satan held you in his palm; his talons scratched the outside of the bands as he caught you just in time. You must've not responded quick enough for him as he continued to shout. “Arrogant little angel, you must have a death wish!”

You groaned and rolled onto your back, wincing as your body stung. “I-I’m not arrogant.”

“What?!” Stan yelled.

“H-Hungry.” You opened your eyes to look at the devil, who was glaring at you with the power of a thousand burning suns. “I’m hungry. You couldn't hear me.”

“And you thought tossing yourself was the best way to get my fucking attention?!” He was practically snarling as stood from kneeling, and you saw that his coffee cup had been tossed to the side.

In spite of the pain, you smiled. “It worked though.”

“And what makes you think this little stunt will get you what you desire?” His voice was venomous. “I could kill you right now and it’d be within my jurisdiction!”

“You can’t punish a c-corpse.”

Satan held you to his face, meeting your gaze with a glare. “You’d be surprised of the depravities of hell.”

“Maybe. But I know you well enough.”

“Telling yourself whatever lie that makes your stupidity valid isn't healthy.” The man’s voice lowered to a deep rumble; like distant thunder. “Stand up.”

You tried to pick yourself up, slow and easy, but whimpered as your head was wrecked with white hot pain. Your eyes closed and all you could do was lay. Which got you another jab from Satan.

“Proud of yourself, starlight? I doubt that.” Satan huffed, his breath smelling like coffee, and you felt the subtle sway of his large gate as he walked somewhere.

“You almost sound worried, My Lord.” Maybe it was the lightheaded sensation clouding your judgement, but you felt the only response to his wrath was another soft smile.

The swaying stopped for a moment and Satan’s voice was an annoyed whisper. “And you sound suicidal. Perhaps you are. Maybe that’s why you fell from your golden world and down into the dark.”

“Mn, no.” You shook your head and opened your eyes again, meeting gazes with Satan. It was difficult to read his expression as your vision blurred, but there was a hint of calmed skepticism in his four glowing eyes. Whatever the emotion, it was a mere step away from concern. Certainly curious at least. “I told you that you’d learn my reasons why at trial, but I can at least assure you I’m not seeking death.”

“Then, pre-fucking-tell,” Satan continued walking and you held his gaze. “What does an overly trusting, silly little thing like you seek? Heaven surely had everything you needed.”

“Needed, yes. But, not w-wanted.” Before you closed your eyes once more, unconsciousness trying to claim you from the concussion you were suffering, you saw Satan frown. “I wanted … to live. And to be … wanted. To belong. A purpose. Everyone has a purpose, a life to live. No matter above, or below. Everyone but a dimming star, a s-silly cherub, who's been left alone f-for so long. No wishes, no life, none who’d want me to shine.”

You felt tears warm your cheeks and a stained chuckle bubbled in your throat. “I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

Satan’s breathing was all you could hear for a long while, slow and warm, but he did finally speak with a deep, restaurant tone. “A foolish notion. Admirable, but foolish. You rest now, fallen star. You need medical attention.”

...

And when you finally passed out, Satan quickened his pace to the workshop; his tail snapping around the heavy metal door pulled to slam it in his wake. The magical runes activated as he stepped inside, sealing the room. No one could get in or out.

Inside the round workshop was a forage set in hellfire, the burning inferno ringed in stones older than sin that always glowed. Hung from iron hooks and sat along shelves were old creations, machines never tested, or some concepts of mechanical machinations he dreamed of between his workout sessions.Though some of his more nasty machines he thought of during therapy.

Satan had spent his early eras by the forge, enjoying his time crafting long forgotten punishments and crafting the first few generations of Imp kind by glow of the cruel furnace. In his fires, Satan could create and destroy. He preferred the latter.

The red dragon stormed over to one of his large desks, still littered with the iron shavings of his last idea, and sat down his captured cherub in your prison. He huffed and looked over you as you slept. He barely saw your chest rise and fall. You were so fragile. So tiny. He could crush your head like a grape between his fingers if he wanted. Realistically, he probably should’ve a few days ago.

Mammon, while acting the part of a pompous clown who had grown too big for his britches, had been right about killing you. It would’ve made this a whole lot easier if he had. The last angel who fell into hell uprooted Satan from his reign of the land, and now he was stuck as only the second most feared being in all the rings. Satan had been the law and ruler until that little golden shit moved in with his scheming queen, and then they cemented their legacy with hell’s “favorite” princess. Who's to say this fallen starlight would be any different?

You could’ve easily been lying to Satan, try to hoodwink him, as a means for escape. The idea of this small angel playing him made Satan’s blood boil. There was no way he’d ever be out schemed by someone so seemingly innocent. Someone so open, too kind. And you smiled far too much. If you did manage to get away from Satan somehow, you’d be eaten alive within a mile outside of his estate. There was no way everything you said was entirely true either, and he knew better then by now to ever take anyone at their word.

At least you were sweet on the eyes.

Satan reached for a few tools and a blank gold band, then took a moment to look over his handiwork. He needed to essentially break the sealing band on the prison to free the cherub for medical treatment, and then once your head injury was tended to he’d reseal you inside.He just needed to hurry and do all of this before you woke up.

But then an annoying realization hit him. The only reason you leapt was to get his attention, because you needed food. And you can't eat when you're asleep. And once sealed back inside, there'd be no way to feed you.

Satan growled and clicked his nails on the top of the sphere. “You’re a lot of work, little shit.” He spat at you with no response.

Like Mammon, the cherub was also right about something important - He couldn’t put a corpse on trial. You needed to eat, maybe bathe as well. And while Satan had cleaned off most of the debris and dirt from when you first smashed into his courtroom, you had been primarily unwashed. Not that he would've ordered someone to clean you while you were unconscious - Satan might have been an asshole, but he was respectful enough to an unconscious person to not remove their clothes without consent. Even he had standards.

With a feral hiss Satan lulled his head back. There was only one logical path forward.

With a hot soldering iron in one hand and heavy pliers held in the other, Satan got to work dismantling the prison. Layer by layer, cutting away his rune-cared bands, he removed the enchantments that kept your magic buffered. You still had the cuffs on your wrists and ankles, and then his personally branded collar around your thin throat - All to keep this little fly away in line. But would it be enough?

As the last band fell away, the lock to the cage cracking into fiery ash, your body landed softly on the worship table and you gave a little groan. Then you went incredibly still. Satan waited to see if you’d wake up, holding his breath. You didn’t move. Shit. Were you dead?

“Uh, hello?” He whispered as one of his golden claws moved to poke your shoulder. Nothing. As he moved to poke you a bit harder, you continued to breathe normally.Satan sighed. “Thank fuck.”

He looked you over in more detail, his claw moving your long hair out of your face. You barely looked old enough to be out of your first century. If you were as old as you claimed to be, surely there was enough power in your little pinky to flick the likes of Mammon at least five miles away; like the little spider bastard he was. Then again, the wards you blasted through to get into hell might have siphoned enough of your power to make you as meek as a kicked puppy. Still, Satan needed insurance.

His claw moved down your neck, over your shoulders, and then lower to feel over your soft green and white wings. To a lower level angel, feathers were a dime-a-dozen. If one were plucked, it was just like some cutting off a lock of hair. But for someone of your linage? It could mean more. His talons masterfully moved into your down, feeling around for a longer but less essential feather, and with a quick tug plucked it from your wing.

You groaned again and your small wing flinched, but you remained out like a light.

Satan only gave the feather a quick look over, some residual radiance glowing from inside it, before he growled and tucked it into a nearby lock-box. The feather was sealed inside and he put the container up on a nearby shelf for safe keeping. He then turned back to you and, with all the grace and care the sin of wrath could muster, he lifted you into his palm. Given his size, Satan was used to people feeling light in grip, but you felt lighter than a cloud.

Satan turned from his workshop, the door closing again as he left, and he walked back to the living room. Waiting for him there was his therapist, who was quietly ordering the imp staff to clean up the broken coffee cup and the puddle of coffee.

“Heeey there, Satan.” Yogrit greeted him with a weary smile. “How are you doing this morning?”

Satan chuffed. “Could be better. My coffee is fucked.”

A few of the staff scattered away to prepare another coffee without question.

“Yes, so it seems. Did you accidentally drop it or-?” As Yogirt flew up to Satan's level, the smaller demon looked down to you held in his wide red palms. “Oh. Oh.”

He sighed. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I don’t have the time to answer questions, but get a doctor here now. The prisoner is hurt.”

Yogirt nodded, his expression calm and serious. “Of course. I know someone who to call.”

Satan nodded, strolled back to his couch and sat as slow as he could; as not to jostle you around and make your concession any worse. Awkwardly he grabbed a pillow and delicately laid you there; mindful of your head. His fingers lingered for a moment too long, admiring your soft hair against his scaly fingers, and he didn’t notice an imp maid staring wide-eyed at him; while barely managing to hold Satan’s new coffee up towards him. With a purposefully low reach, Satan took the cup and held a dangerous glare at the maid as she made a nervous, but also carefully calculated, retreat out of his sight.

Without much fuss, Yogirt had already flown off somewhere and was speaking softly into a cell phone.

Satan called out. “And get someone to bring, I don’t know, more clothes. Small clothes.”

“Clothes?” Yogrit responded with an inquisitive brow raise. His eyes moved to your sleeping body, then back to Satan. “Do you think she might also require shoes? And, erm, other things?”

Satan’s mind felt like it was running on empty, fuzzy, as he tried to think on what the demon was at. “Uhh, shampoo? She smells.”

“Okay, that’s good to know. But how about,” Yogirt cleared his throat. “Socks? Pajamas?”

Satan glared as he took a long drink of his coffee. “Just fucking say it, Yogrit. I’m in no mood to be psychoanalyzed today.”

“Undergarments.” The therapist said plainly, which nearly made Satan choke. “I’ll make sure someone goes to get our guest some attire that fits. I’m sure something in the new Velvette spring collection will work.”

The great dragon coughed hard and beat a fist to his chest. “Yeah, fine, whatever. Just get it done.”

When Satan was left alone once more, he growled and relaxed on the couch. He turned the TV back on, a truck rally with monstrous cars crashing into one another. He was content to mindlessly watch the spectacle, but from the corner of his eyes Satan saw you wince in pain from the blasting music. He lowered the volume with an annoyed grumble. What a fucking fantastic start to the day.

Surely nothing else would go wrong today … Right?

Satan held his sights on you, ignoring the TV for a while, and made sure his restraints were still working; their red glow casting a rosy color over your skin. They were holding and Satan was content to not test anymore of his bad luck for at least the rest of the morning.

HEY LOOK, its you! Welcome to the end of part three~ ❤️ And we finally got Satan's POV! That's gonna happen a lot more of him now that the story is kicking off from here. I'm gonna try to show the change of POVs with colors. Green will be the Reader and Red will be for Satan!

🫘🫘🫘Thank you my little beans! 🫘🫘🫘 I hope you had a good read and will stick around for the next part!

#x reader #helluva boss satan x reader #helluvaverse #hazbin hotel #helluva boss #helluva boss x reader #cherub!reader #helluva boss oc #helluva boss satan #helluva fanart #satan x reader

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