#by tearing the soft tender meat from your bone

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Perfidious.

Written for a very lovely anonymous commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Killer!Childe x M!Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 4.0k.

TW: Non//Con, Bottom!Childe, Graphic Violence, Kidnapping, Blood, Rough Sex, Bondage, Disturbing Themes, Obsessive Behavior, and Slight Bleeding Kinks.

Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

You felt steel against your back, first.

Straight, narrow, peeling away from you at the edges; running from the small of your back to the nape of your neck before losing contact where your head lulled to the side. The rope around your wrists was next, soft and smooth but drawn tight enough to bite into your forearms, then the concrete floor beneath your exposed form, greedily stealing away what warmth you’d managed to retain after the metal pole pressing into your spine drank its fill. Sharp copper filled your lungs, the scent of gore too fresh to carry the sickening sweetness of rot nearly strong enough to blot out your vision when you finally managed to pry your eyes open. Even then, your sight blotted grey around the edges, the world a smear of dark shadows and bright lights and red on—

Red.

Red dots, painted across the dull grey of the concrete floor. Red smeared against blank walls and coating the tapering points of meat hooks suspended haphazardly from the low ceiling. Red hair, smattered with viscera and slicked back by sweat, but still recognizable at first glance.

Your voice came out raspy, staggered. It tore at your throat, caught on your teeth, but you forced yourself to speak. You couldn’t think of anything else to do. “…Ajax?”

He was on the other side of the concrete room – a cellar, you realized, somewhat belatedly – but he turned as soon as you managed to wretch the words from your tongue. He was… He looked off; disheveled, but not as distressed as someone in his state should’ve been. His designer clothes and fur-lined coats had been traded out for a plain grey t-shirt and a black apron, the fabric of both visibly wet. He wasn’t wearing gloves, but his hands were stained with crimson up to the elbow, merging into the blood-soaked pair of pliers in his left hand. Relief coursed through you at the sight of his easy smile, and you strained against your restraints as he turned away from whatever he was carving and began to approach you. You stained against the pole, against your restraints, but both held strong, keeping you bound in place as he came to stand in front of you, one of his hands falling low enough to cup your chin. Normally, you’d try to brush off his smothering affection, laugh as you batted his hand away or tried to remind him that not everyone wanted to be greeted with one of his bone-crushing hugs, but now, you melted into his palm, your grin wide enough to tear the corners of your lips. “Ajax, I— I don’t know what happened, I can’t—”

“How does your head feel?” His voice was gentle, his tone soft and light and as warm as the blood still dripping from his fingertips. “That was quite a fall.”

Right. You could remember it, now; the feeling of jutting steps digging into your chest and back, concrete scraping against tender flesh. It came back to you in pieces, nonlinear and broken into disjointed fragments. You were lying on the floor, quickly losing consciousness, then standing in Ajax’s doorway, checking the address on your phone as you tried to figure out why your wealthiest classmate wouldn’t be living in some dilapidated shack on the edge of town. There’d been a bat, and a bolt of pain in the back of your skull, and… and then you were here, in a dirty basement with Ajax and so, so much blood.

It didn’t make sense, but Ajax was above you, waiting for your answer with a patient smile. “I think so,” you tried, despite the pounding in the back of your head, the knotting dread in your chest. “Did… did you hit me? I can’t really… I don’t know what’s going on.”

He let out a breathy laugh. “I guess I did, huh? Not on purpose, though, I promise – I wanted to let you down nice and easy. Had a syringe of the good stuff ready and everything.” Ajax paused, patted a square indent in the front pocket of his apron. “You were more punctual than I thought you’d be. When I heard you upstairs, I figured your little friend had arrived first and…” A quirk to his smile, a slant to the way he held his shoulders. “Well, I wasn’t going to be as gentle with him.”

Your… friend?

Blearily, you glanced away from Ajax, to the corner of the cellar that he’d occupied before you woke up. Your vision wasn’t so spotted, anymore, your thoughts not quite as incoherent, and you were able to make out a worktable covered in tools and hacksaws and knives of all shapes and designs, and a man sitting on a plastic chair beside it. Expect, he wasn’t sitting – he was buckled into himself, slouching forward, only held up by the fraying rope wrapped around his chest and the duct tape keeping his arms bound to that of his chair. His shirt had been torn open, uniform lacerations drawn down the length of his chest in deep, jagged lines, and you could see blood dripping from his lips, his nose, his ears. Red, coating everything in sight. Scarlet as far as the eye could see.

It took you longer than it should’ve to recognize him; patches of yellow and black bruising blossoming across everything that hadn’t been cut open, distorting features that you’d never made an effort to remember in the first place. Even when you managed to scrape something up, it was more of a role than anything else – the boy who sat a row ahead of you in some general biology course you’d tacked on for an easy credit. He’d asked to borrow a pen once or twice. You’d never bothered to learn his name.

Ajax followed your line of sight, chuckling when he saw what’d stolen your attention away. He seemed to soften, squeezing your jaw one more time before pulling away, drawing back and toward the near stranger. “Stephan Zheng. He asked for your number two weeks ago, tried to say it was for some ‘study group’ – as if anyone would be dumb enough to believe that shit.” He laughed, again, but the noise was more strained, less affectionate. “It’s guys like this that really make me sick. I can take the boys and girls that constantly hover around you, at least they know how to keep their distance. Bastards who want to touch what’s not theirs, I just—” He set his jaw, growling from behind clenched teeth before clenching his eyes shut and inhaling sharply. “I’m not asking for a lot, just a little common decency. That’s pretty reasonable, right?”

It took you a long moment to respond, to remember how to use your tongue. “Ajax, did you do that to him?”

“Oh, no, sweetheart. I didn’t hurt anybody.” He turned away from you, taking up a rusted box-cutter. “I tortured him. And, eventually, I’m gonna make sure he never bothers us again.”

Your breath hitched as he moved towards the stranger, but he didn’t try to drive the short blade into his captive’s chest or add to the countless gaping wounds he’d already carved. Rather, he cut away the makeshift restraints, slicing through tape and rope and letting the stranger collapse to the floor, completely limp, completely vulnerable. Ajax remained unfazed, just wrapping his fist around the stranger’s neck and hauling him off the ground and toward one of the hanging hooks – this one shined and spotless, yet to be stained.

There was a slick, sickening piercing sound – metal plunging into meat, straining to penetrate muscle and scraping against bone in a way that made your teeth ache behind your lips. There was a final, shuttering breath from the stranger as the hook’s point emerged just below his collarbone before going limp, his swollen eyes barely open, his chest still. Agonizingly still.

You felt bile rise into the back of your throat. Your vision blurred, your shoulders dropping as you lurched forward, your consciousness threatening to blot out and leave you as helpless as the fresh corpse swaying just a few feet away. You felt yourself start to shake, but even that was distant – your body acting without your consent. If Ajax recognized your panic, he didn’t seem to care. There was a dull, hollow sound as he rummaged through the displaced tools on his worktable, a low coo, and then he was next to you, a sledgehammer with a broken, splintering grip in his dominant hand. “Deep breaths, baby, deep breaths.” He kneeled, bringing himself down to your height. Once again, his hand was on your cheek, thumb running over your jaw as he went on. “He’s all taken care of, alright? It’s just the two of us, now.”

“I don’t—” You didn’t know what was happening. You didn’t know what he was doing. You didn’t know who he was. You didn’t know how the man standing in front of you could be Ajax; sweet, oblivious Ajax, who always stood a little too close and laughed a little too loudly and tipped a little too much whenever he took you out for breakfast the morning after a late study session or one of the disgusting frat parties he’d drag you to. Ajax, who liked to joke about making you his spoiled trophy husband whenever you failed an exam or complained about your constantly rising rent. Ajax, who’d willingly been your shoulder to cry on every time another friend dropped out, or moved away, or just suddenly stopped talking to you without warning. Ajax, who’d just smile when you asked about his shady, ever-changing job and tell you not to worry your pretty little head about what he did when he wanted to get his hands dirty.

It was hard to breathe, hard to think about anything but his name and the copper slowly sinking into the tissue of your lungs. Still, you tried to pull yourself together, to flatten your voice into something comprehensible, to sound half as irrationally calm as he did. “I… Did you kill him?”

There was a soft hum by way of confirmation, another swipe of his thumb over your cheek. “I just roughed him up a little. If he died, it’s just because he’s too weak to take what he deserves.”

For a long moment, you were quiet.

Then, shifting against the pole, you looked downward, to the floor between your legs; the concrete dusted with stains so dry and so dark, they couldn’t have been made that day. “Ajax,” you said, again, drawing out his name into something pleading. “I think I have to leave, now.”

He was quiet for a few seconds, too.

Then, he laughed, and something cracked in your chest. Slowly, he leaned into you, his chapped lips barely brushing against yours before he fell lower, pressing a lingering kiss into the corner of your jaw, then the curve of your throat. “I thought you’d say something like that,” he muttered, as he finally pulled away. “Don’t worry, it’ll only hurt for a few seconds.”

You watched from a distance as he pushed himself to his feet, taking up his sledgehammer. The blow itself was precise, practiced; too quick and too effective not to be something he’d done a thousand times. For a second, as the steel head crashed into your ankle, there was only static numbness; vague pins and needles and the awareness that there should’ve been pain and that pain should’ve been unimaginable. Your mouth fell open, Ajax’s whispered nothings was flattened into a muted buzz, and for a long moment, it was all you could do to stare at your own foot and try to figure out why it was able to bend that way.

Then, he brought his hammer down on your other, uninjured leg, and you screamed.

It seemed to go on for minutes, hours, days. The world was just you, the pure agony racing up both your legs, and the sound of your own voice; ragged and desperate, pleading and cursing and tearing at your lungs until you couldn’t feel anything but the slight tinge of hurt at the back of your throat and a second heartbeat racing in your ears. You thrashed against the pole, kicking out with your useless legs, but Ajax only responded with a throaty laugh, letting his weapon fall out of his hold and dropping back to your height, straddling your thighs and taking your face in both of his hands. He didn’t shy away from your lips, this time. This kiss was brutal, animalistic – his teeth crashing against yours as he drank down the sounds of your pain, moaning against your lips in response. His hips rolled against yours, and you were forced to acknowledge the weight of his cock pressing into your stomach – already straining against the material of his pants. You recoiled on instinct, but Ajax only sunk further into you. “Feel that?” He asked, his voice little more than a raspy whisper. “That’s what you do to me. That’s how much I love you.”

“You’re sick.” You were whispering, too, suddenly too weak and too shocked to do anything else. “You can’t— You have to let me go, this isn’t—”

“As if you’d get anywhere on those legs.” Feverishly, jerkily, he was dragging his shirt over his head, smearing gore along grey fabric as he tore off his blood-stained apron and the rest of his clothes, never letting himself put more than a foot of distance between your body and his. Never dropping that awful, bloodthirsty grin. “I’ve been thinking about this since the day we fucking met. You don’t know how much I wanted to—”

He broke off, pausing just long enough to take your dick in his hand. You tried to tell yourself that it was just the adrenaline, that the loose coil beginning to form in the pit of your stomach was just gnawing dread, but your body was a stripped nerve; every sensation dialed up to its maximum capacity, every touch cutting through your skin and making contact with something more delicate, much more vulnerable that laid beneath your flesh. You could feel the humidity of his breath as it fanned over your throat, the stifling warmth of his chest against yours. You could feel the heel of his palm, calloused and rough, as it ground into your base, and the tightness of grip as his fingers wrapped around your cock. “If I wasn’t so nice, I would’ve pinned you down on the floor of that fucking lecture hall and sucked you dry. But, I wanted our first time to be special.” He pressed a wet, open-mouthed kiss into the side of your neck. “I was hoping you’d crack if I picked off enough of your little friends, but you were just so stubborn. If I didn’t know better, I might’ve gotten it into my head that you just didn’t like me.”

You grit your teeth, clenched your eyes, but there was nothing you could do to stop yourself from hardening against his palm, your body desperate for any scrap of mercy he would show you. Raw agony burnt in your veins, twisting around your ribs and pushing everything below your ankles to an unfeeling distance, but a small, burgeoning warmth writhed beneath it; a unique kind of torture in its own right. You jerked against your bondage, and when that failed, you forced yourself to grimace, to turn away and will yourself not to react to him. It was an effort made in vain, though. Ajax knew what he was doing, even if he was only using his hand, even if he chose not to act like it; toying with you, swiping the pad of his thumb over your flushed head and grinding the heel of his palm into the underside of your cock, keeping you sensitive while making sure to withhold any kind of stimulation that’d actually tip you over the edge. When your fragile composure started to crack, when the first distorted whimper slipped past your lips despite your best efforts, he pulled back abruptly, drawing a jagged whine from the back of your throat. His apology came in the form of a lingering kiss pressed into your collarbone, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Just give me a few seconds,” he said as he moved back, leaning into you. “Been dying to make you cum on my face since I got a look at what you’ve been hiding from me. Don’t have time for that now, but I think my poor heart might break if I don’t get a taste.”

You didn’t have time to ask what he meant before your cock was in his mouth, shoved past his lips with no reluctance or hesitation. You felt his nose hit your pelvis, his throat constricting around your cock, but Ajax had always been dauntless, and now, he was using all that courage and all that arrogance to choke on your length, saliva and pre-cum dripping from the corners of his mouth. It was less of an effort to get you off and more of a prolonged attempt to suffocate himself – his blunt nails burrowing into your hips as he held you still, pinning you underneath him and giving him the time to fall into a half-coherent rhythm, to sloppily bob his head and curl his tongue around your cock. You tried to shut your eyes, to block out what you could and ignore what you couldn’t, but he was just so warm, and messy, and loud – groaning and mewling, constantly drawing your attention towards him, towards the violation of your body.

It was careless, and it was grotesque, and your body drank in every scrap of sick pleasure. It took so much of your depleted strength to stop your hips from bucking into his mouth, to stop your mangled legs from twitching underneath him, that you almost didn’t notice when something warm and viscous seeped against the side of your thigh. Without having to open your eyes, you knew what it was, and you knew what it meant when Ajax pulled away from you, pressing a wet kiss into the inside of your thigh before swiping two fingers through the trail of blood. You watched him, dead-eyed and vacant, as he spread himself open with his blood-soaked digits, every movement too rushed to come across as anything but feral, too rough to be the first time he’d fucked himself that day. You didn’t know which reality would’ve been more disturbing – one where Ajax was just that masochistic, just that willing to hurt himself if it meant hurting you, too, or the alternative, the one where the anticipation had been too much, where Ajax hadn’t been able to wait until he had you at his mercy. You didn’t know which would haunt you more, when the pain reached to your head and you inevitably lost consciousness again.

It wouldn’t take very long. Ajax was too careless, too clumsy as he wrapped his legs around your waist, stringing one arm around your neck while he used his free hand to position your cock against his ass. You clenched your eyes shut, twisted as far from him as you could get, but it was already too late – tears, ugly and searing, were already streaming down your cheeks, a ragged sob tearing past your lips as you felt your cock push into him. Ajax slid back onto you without hesitation, only pausing when you bottomed out to coo and bury his face in the crook of your neck before raising his head, before dragging his tongue from the edge of your jaw to the space just under your eye. “I know, I know, I’m just as happy as you are,” he murmured, when he was done, his tone almost gentle. “And I love you, too.”

The words remained on his tongue, repeated in airy whispers and hitched moans, forming a faltering mantra as he started to move – rolling his hips, fucking himself with your overly-sensitive cock like you were some breathing, sobbing toy. Your own vocalizations were less sentimental, a near-incoherent string of stifled cursing and pointless begging just to make it stop. It was a losing battle, if you could even compare it to a real fight. He was tight, and warm, and his eyes burnt into yours; half-lidded but twice as intense as such lifeless blue should’ve been. Your body was his to mold, his to toy with, and he seemed to want to play with you as violently as he could. He seemed to take a special kind of joy in choking cracked gasps and fractured moans out of you, in clenching down around your length and sucking throbbing hickeys into your throat and never letting you escape the sound of skin against skin, the heavy scent of sex and sweat and so, so much blood. Involuntarily, humiliatingly, you felt yourself twitch inside of him, and somehow, Ajax’s pace grew even more unsteady, more sporadic. “Pl-Fuck, please,” he plead, his voice as airy as it was eager. One of his hands fell between your body and his, pumping over his own cock as aggressively as he was fucking himself on yours. “Fill me up. Breed me. Please, please, knock me—”

Anything he might’ve said cut out into a throaty groan, and in a last-ditch effort to save what little pride you had left, you tore your attention away from Ajax, let it skirt over blood-splattered cement before finding what you couldn’t seem to avoid; the stranger hanging on the other side of the cellar, fresh blood still dripping from the ragged hole in his chest. It was all you could do to stare at him, for a long moment, unable to move, unable to think.

Then, his eyes shuttered open, glassy pupils flickering towards you, and you came undone inside of Ajax in an instant.

With a sharp cry and a hitched breath, he buckled into you, burying his face in the crook of your neck and rocking his hips until he fractured just as suddenly as you had – his climax following yours by barely a fraction of a second. You felt his cum, thick and burning, paint the flesh of your stomach, his teeth sink into your shoulder one more time before he straightened his back, his tongue lolling past his lips as he panted. He looked like he wanted to keep going, to keep draining you of all things good and vital, but your body was already screaming in protest, the pain already setting back in – racing through your form with a vicious sort of resentment. Reluctantly, Ajax pried himself away from you, and you were distantly aware of the rope around your wrists falling away, something soft wrapping around your body, Ajax’s laugh as he lifted you into his arms, as you melted against his chest, unable to do anything else. You thought, to yourself, that you’d be relieved if you never heard that sound again. You thought that it must’ve gotten worse, after he’d knocked you out.

You would’ve noticed if his laugh was always that terrible.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. You can get a little rest.” His voice was just as awful, dripping with just as much cruelty. If you’d had a little more resolve, you might’ve tried to shove him away, to make a token effort at resistance.

If you’d been a little stronger, you would’ve been able to do anything but close your eyes and hope he’d be the Ajax you remembered, when you woke up.

“I’ll be right here to take care of you, when you wake up.”

[feather-writes-shenanigans]

bad dream? - killer croc x reader

warnings: non-described nightmares, brief description of past violence, waylon being insecure and generally himself

summary: you, the reader, have a bad dream, and your boyfriend is very soft about it.

word count: 515

notes: first published drabble let's go :)

Your head is pillowed on his shoulder. He’d told you he wasn’t that comfortable of a bed - a decade of living on the streets has stripped him down to lean muscle and bone - but you didn’t seem to care at the time, and you certainly don’t now. Soft breaths waft across his collarbone, and you murmur something, a hushed mumble born of your dreams, hand sliding up his chest to grab at the blanket covering you both. It’s too small for his frame, leaves his shoulders and the bottom part of his legs uncovered, but Waylon could not give less of a damn when you look so cosy. He leans down, careful not to stir you too much, and nudges what could possibly be called a kiss against your forehead. His face isn’t made for kissing, his sharp teeth jut out too far and his lips barely exist, pulled back against his jaw to reveal a permanently bared snarl, but you’ve never cared about it.

He tries not to care as well, but an involuntary sigh works its way out from his chest. Waylon’s not made for this, being all tender and loving. Every freakish trait shoved onto him by his genes is made for violence, for ripping flesh and cracking bones, for biting down into warm meat. He’s not built for-

His train of thought is interrupted when you let out a minute whimper, face scrunching up into a pained expression. Your grip on the blanket tightens, and it takes him a moment to see that you’re shaking.

“Hey. Hey, wake up cher. S’just a dream,” he says, clawed hand on your shoulder, not shaking just yet. Your nightmare continues, a solitary tear beading in the corner of your eye. Waylon nuzzles his face into your head and lets out a deep rumble, hopefully loud enough to wake you.

It works. Bleary-eyed and trembling, you’re pulled out of your dream by a comforting pressure across your waist and a very concerned boyfriend purring into you.

“Waylon?”

“M’ here, baby. Bad dream?”

“Yeah.”

You sigh, and shift yourself up and over so you’re draped over his broad chest. Your face tucks up into his throat, and he mumbles something inaudible. You’re about to ask when he rolls over, pulls you close against him, and adjusts his arms so they aren’t crushing you. Waylon looks down at you, nuzzles a kiss against your forehead, and then rumbles out a “go back to sleep,”. The weighted blanket of your boyfriend soothes you enough to let your eyes flutter closed, bringing a hand up to trace a pattern on his scaled face. In turn, he ever so slowly lowers his head down to rest on your chest, ever conscious of how huge he is in comparison. He manages to fit into a position where he isn’t squishing you too much, and he blinks sleepily at you.

“I’ll sleep if you do,” you murmur, a smile teasing at your lips.

“Deal.”

You pass out to the sound of Waylon's slow breathing, feeling warm and safe, and very, very loved.

[xx-vergil-xx]

sanctus dentes/canem dei

okay u know what –– I just answered an anon ask that brought up the old cori fic I talked about writing months ago, so in the spirit of recollection I was excavating some drafts and I found a part I like –– all that to say, here’s the first vignette of sanctus dentes / canem dei for your consumption :) this is the prologue to the whole kit and caboodle, and it’ll probably get edited and expanded before I post it in earnest, but I really truly haven’t posted writing in so long and today I'm on a good wave of productivity and hey, seize the moment ride the urge etc etc

a TW for gore, blood, violence, and body horror (which I'll also put in the post tags)

SANCTUS DENTES / CANEM DEI (draft, WIP)

EPIGRAPH

“Epopteia, completed sight––meaning the sight that brings us beyond initiation (which only ‘understands’) to ‘contemplation,’ a ‘super-sight’ that is a ‘devouring of the eyes’ (the eye devouring its very self), a grasping and finally a touching: the very absolute of touching, touching-the-other- as being-touched, each being absorbed and devoured in the other.” –– Corpus, Jean-Luc Nancy

GENESIS I: THE PARABLE OF THE DINING ROOM FLOOR

“You don’t love me.”

The blood bubbles in tongues between the split lips. The young man has the eyes of a doe, his pupils blown wide enough they swallow the tawny ring of his shivering iris. His terror is so thick from his pores it might be swiped up with a finger, swept against the tongue, tasted in all its viscous splendor. He reeks of panting sweat, the tar and velvet of post-arousal pheromones crashing into summer-lightning adrenaline that crackles in the nose.

The Corinthian hums into the plate of the sternum. He cradles the tender cheek, licks the soft skin of the purpling undereye, where the threads of capillaries have split beneath the epidermis. The taste is not iron –– such a banal simplification, to call blood near-spilling only, reductively, “metallic”. It’s a bouquet of honeysuckle plasma, fatty satin like good gruyere, platelets of sour rhubarb pie and fresh raspberry. When he bites the thin skin, it tears easily, only so much wet tissue under perfected incisors.

“I don’t?”

"You––" The tears season the meat well –– the Corinthian appreciates the gesture. "You said––"

"Baby," the Corinthian murmurs into the open wound, "didn't your momma ever tell you not to trust a stranger?"

Languorous and immovable, the Corinthian pins the young man's wrists above his bleeding head. In the dark, all things become more and less than what they are. The thick cords of the neck pull taut, strung fierce enough that their columns emerge from the dimness as the spine of some deep-sea horror cresting the sea. He scrapes his teeth against the jaw, where the bone runs close to the surface, and prophesies the sponge of marrow under molar. The body shudders –– glorious, isn't it, how the rigid little mind might strive to save itself from that which thrills the flesh.

"Please. Please."

"Little lamb, what're you begging for?" The Corinthian lays a kiss against the mouth. From the man's overlapping palms issues the hilt of a thin blade –– the other is buried, arrow-like, between his second and third rib. The rasp of the voice is laden with lung collapse, breath that no longer fits into smothered struts. In the valley of the tendons, the heart courses, torrential.

“Mercy.  Merciful God, I can’t die like this.”

The Corinthian sinks his teeth into the muscle of the shoulder, at the point it meets the neck. A slobbery gasp surges from the open mouth –– no better music, thinks the Corinthian, as his canines meet the granite edge of the scapula. The heart is racing, ever the traitor. They are all like this. The space between suffering and ecstasy is so minute he could not slide a fingernail into it.

He severs, at last, the tendons, and a slop of meat comes free. The sheets of the hotel bed will be irrecoverable –– mark of a real good night. It's hot and fresh down his throat. He thinks about getting sashimi after he's done here. Though it'll be a long time until the meal has ended.

The man's mind is fading, even while his body yearns after the teeth that destroy it. He babbles, warbling prayers so loose-limbed and slurred they are only a horsehair bow drawn across untuned vocal folds.

"Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name, hallowed be thy––"

"Shh, shh shh shh, baby." He chews and swallows, and when he kisses the hollow of the throat it's only to rip the skin loose from the clavicles, to see those nubs of bone glow pearlescent in the night. "Be not afraid."

"––thy king–– thy kingdom come–– thy––"

Once, when he was young, he had eaten only the eyes. He had popped the tart cherries of sight, reveled in the liquor of the vitreous humor, the plasticky chew of the cornea –– he'd gnaw on the lenses for hours, like wads of clear gum. But his life had been long, and his maker had sculpted him from famine, and famine knew no sating. Famine, blooming low in the gut, scaled the spine and hung from the jaw. It grew, and grew, and filled him with gaping mouths. There was no moment he did not hunger. He couldn't satisfy himself on eyes, these days.

"You fear what you don't understand," says the Corinthian. The man's arms are slack enough that when he releases them, they slump limb and immobile. He drags his hands down the flanks, sinks his fingers between two mirrored ribs, and the flesh gives so readily it seems almost eager. "I don't love you?"

With a squelch and groan, the intercostals split apart. The Corinthian curls his grip around the bone, on either side, and grins, threefold.

"––thy will be–– done–– on Earth, as it is–– in Heaven–– give–– give us––"

"Sanctum corpus," he breathes. "Baby, don't be cruel."

"––this day, our daily bread–– forgive–– forgive–– forgive––"

He snaps the ribs apart. The hull of skin and muscle is rent open, and the smell, sacramental wine, bursts forth in heavenly plenitude.

"Hoc est enim corpus meum. Eat of my flesh, and drink of my blood."

The man buckles, chokes. The whites of his eyes shine liquid, pale shells, spilled oil.

"I love you," murmurs the Corinthian. He does.

The Corinthian buries his face in the guts, and takes communion.

[gyusimp]

"The red means i love you"

🩸Warnings: Canon Gyutaro | Explicit violence | Blood | Insults | Death of the reader | Minors/sensitive people DNI. Violence between two people is not romanticized or normalized.

🩸Song Inspo: "Breezeblocks" - Alt-J

This would happen at some point. You forced yourself not to believe it, you knew that there was a high percentage of probabilities but your heart fought with your brain at that idea, causing you to store it in a corner to seriously analyze it later and with that excuse, never think about it again.

How could someone who loves you hurt you? you forgot a great little detail...he is a demon.

Today was a night like any other, the slightly chilly wind blowing through the streets of the entertainment district. The temperature wasn't too cold to the point of making your bones ache but it was to make you have to take an extra sheet out of the closet to sleep on tonight.

You walked to the futon in the center of the room, arranged the kimono you used to sleep in and got under the sheets while you blew out the candle on the next table with a soft breath and then settled your head on the pillow. Since you didn't see Gyutaro yesterday, you know he has other things to do but that didn't change the fact that you missed him and wanted to have him close to you. He would be with his sister at this time, it was the safest. Besides, you didn't have to worry about him because nothing bad could happen to him.

You looked at the ceiling while thinking about him but then sleep began to invade your body causing your eyelids to close until after a few minutes you were completely asleep.

Gyutaro was far from the district, Daki was fighting with a couple of rookie slayers until a more skilled one arrived who, by cutting off her head, made her burst into tears and between howls of frustration she desperately cried out for her brother's help. Gyutaro wouldn't leave her alone but the fact that she couldn't do something so simple on her own put him in a bad mood.

Even though the 3 slayers' bodies were lying lifeless on the ground, the older sibling of the two moons had an uncontrollable bloodlust. He ripped and devoured every part of the hunters along with his sister, though his selfish instinct made him take more meat than she did. Veins all over his body were popping almost exploding under his skin, his muscles were tense and his mouth wouldn't stop salivating. Gyutaro could deduce the flavor of each person depending on their gender and age, he felt in a way that he rarely feels. He knew the taste his mouth needed, the tender, juicy texture his teeth begged to break, and the sweetness only a certain type of blood left on his lips.

He needed to eat a young woman.

Gyutaro took both of his sickles in his hands and headed back to the entertainment district where with admirable ease he slaughtered a couple of girls for food. He ate them to the bone, drank their blood and tasted their bowels but that insatiable hunger inside him couldn't be stopped. This was beginning to annoy him, Gyutaro was cursing and attacking the air, pacing back and forth like a caged lion. He clawed at his skin so hard it bled, he walked aimlessly and then ran through the shadows until a scent made him stop. The window of a house caught his attention, the window was closed but fortunately he knew exactly how to open it. Nothing would stop him from getting what he wanted, what his body needed. At first he didn't know what he wanted but when he felt and remembered that delicious aroma that drove him crazy, he understood.

Peculiar blood.

Gyutaro was an expert at sneaking under the shadows, he could hide his presence completely and make his footsteps soft and totally silent. He approached you and little by little he observed you. Your loose hair slid down the white pillow that supported your head, your closed eyes gracefully fanned your long lashes, and your mouth was slightly parted as you breathed. Your breathing was slow and calm as was the beating of your heart, hearing the flow of your blood and seeing your rosy cheecks because of it made Gyutaro's chest jump mischievously and make his stomach twist with hunger and need like if it was empty.

You said that you would always be there for him when he needed it most and now, he was very grateful for that.

Gyutaro was on top of you, almost drooling. He raised one of his hands above your face and lowered it slowly until he forcefully covered your mouth so you couldn't make a sound.

Your eyes went wide trying to wake up as quickly as possible and trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

Gyutaro usually jokes heavily so you didn't know if this was a joke or not. He covered your mouth and your nose with his hand, the air began to lack you and it was more and more difficult for you to breathe. You looked right into his vein-filled yellow eyes and sharp-toothed smile. He did nothing but choke you, he just smiled as he watched as you awkwardly tried to remove his hand from your face. Gyutaro moved closer to you and buried his face in the space between your neck and your shoulder, inhaling your sweet and tempting scent.

His hot breath hit your skin, he moved his hand a few inches below your nose and you were finally able to breathe a little.

"You smell so good, I'm sure you'll taste much better...can I?" he asked.

Your heart was beating too fast and your forehead was beginning to sweat. Right after he spoke, a terrible burn formed on your shoulder as Gyutaro sank his sharp teeth into your skin. A gasp tried to come from deep in your throat but Gyutaro's hand on your mouth stopped it. Several tears began to form in your eyes and fall on your cheeks while he settled his teeth better. Your legs and hands moved desperately trying to get him away from you but it was impossible.

You still won't think this was real. This ever happened to you in your mind but the love you felt for him blinded your ability to reason and remember that he was a human-eating demon, ruthless and with uncontrollable murderous instincts but despite that, you believed that he wouldn't be able. He was someone special, a different demon.

But here is your "different" demon cornering you to the ground ready to kill you and eat you.

Gyutaro continued with his teeth sunk into your flesh, the hot sensation of your blood dripping on your skin and dirtying your sheets made you cry more, but besides the indescribable physical pain, what hurt the most was your heart to see him in this state, so unrecognizable to you

Would you be able to survive this?

Your human instinct to want to continue living made you wake up. Gyutaro wasn't joking, so you had to do something to help yourself.

You grabbed Gyutaro's hair hard to try to get him away from you but it was useless, you hit his arms hard but nothing worked. You did everything in your power until desperate, you moved one of your legs to hit him right in the stomach and ribs with your knee with all your might. He felt some pain so unconsciously he opened his mouth when he complained and as fast as you could you took that opportunity to run away. Before Gyutaro could attack you again, you punched his nose hard causing him to smell the strong scent of his own blood. Your wound hurt too much but the adrenaline of the moment made you roll on the futon to get away from him.

"Motherfucker!" he yelled, his voice heavy and rather angry.

You crawled across the floor, standing, you ran to the door of your room but before you could get there your face hit the hard ground making your head ache violently. Gyutaro grabbed your foot with one hand and pulled you towards him again. No matter how much you kicked and cried and begged him not to, he wouldn't listen. Gyutaro dragged you back under him and now he wouldn't let you go.

"You're going to regret this, you fucking bitch!"

Gyutaro didn't want to use his weapons, something inside him wanted to stop him but he didn't know what. A sharp pang centered in your abdomen as the point of one of his sickles stabbed almost through you causing you to scream in pain. A dry cough came out of your mouth and a little blood dripped from your lips. If you were seriously injured it was impossible for you to try to escape again. Gyutaro's long tongue licked the tip of his sharp sickle, delighting in the reddish liquid that came from your body and that made his appetite increase even more.

This was the end. Gyutaro took the opportunity to take another bite of your flesh but this time tearing off a piece of skin to swallow it in less than a second and he continued nibbling the meatiest parts of your body.

The pain you felt was indescribable, in your body and in your heart. Your vision began to blur but it wasn't because of the tears, your body was getting weaker and weaker and all you could see was Gyutaro eating you alive. The poison from his sickles was starting to take effect too, your whole body was writhing in cold and pain from all the blood you were losing. His sharp teeth were red as were his tongue and his hands, you could swear he almost cut your belly in two to eat your insides but nothing could be made out when it was so tinged with red.

You accepted your end and how stupid you had been. At what point did it occur to you to get entangled with a demon? Being so close to him to the point of giving him all your love when he wouldn't appreciate it. He probably wasn't even interested in your feelings. You've always been told that love makes people stupid, unable to think. You didn't believe in that idea at all but now here was the proof in front of your eyes. While you were dying, your whole life passed through your mind, including all the most "beautiful" moments that you had lived with him, believing that he also loved you in the way that you madly adored him. This wicked man had been everything in your life. You looked at him one last time, because stupid as you were, even this couldn't make you hate him. You raised your red-smeared hand slowly, trying to keep your limbs working to get his attention for at least one last time. Your trembling hand reached out to him to touch any part of his skin, your breathing was too fast and your body did not stop shaking.

You doubted if he would even be conscious at this point.

"G-Gyu...taro..." you said, with some difficulty. The simple fact of speaking was as complicated and painful for you as trying to climb a mountain with your bare hands. Your soft touch reached Gyutaro's skin, your skin began to get cold and upon hearing your voice he inevitably looked towards your face.

Your gaze was fixed on him and after a gasp and strong sigh you did not blink again. Gyutaro had never seen that expression on your face in his life and that made him wake up somehow. He looked around him. Blood everywhere.

Your blood on the floor, the sheets, your clothes, your skin, his hands... and his mouth.

Gyutaro...what have you done?

[destaeti]

the moon had thinned to a thread at the manor,      the woods at its timberline beastly and skeletal.      he had stood through the eve until harvest dawn was the colour of metal,      the trees stiffened into place like burnt nerves.      and in the morn’s silver flush,      damon is a murky blend of ill-lit dusk,      masquerading in a place devoid of a pale moon.      only his brother could be sanctioned through the tusk - white smog of his conjure,      fissuring haze as heavy as a lake with an oyster of light.      the glass of his eye darkens as he turns,      like something old and tired that has soiled the sight of its possessor.      not even the white fire of stars,      the softness from their light that fills to the bone can brighten the iris.      if not for the amiable tilt of his mouth he would be armoured only in nightmare,      harbouring fangs pointed for tearing gashes,      a red tongue for raw meat and the hot lapping of blood.

their father had been a savage force of nature,      a grim god of death wielding a keen blade made to sever tender throats      —      and later his sons.      what the late patriarch had formed between his heirs was a hardened knot of muscle braced against the past.      new blood over old scars.      but damon’s distaste had become cold and bloodless,      a white wound made to fade like hoarfrost in spring.      centuries had stripped the pain from him,      etching a smile that curves his lips almost feline in place of a sharp red mouth,      delighting in amusement too blatant not to perceive.      ‶ just your lectures,      brother. ″      tendrils of mist twine between the strands of his hair,      shifting with the incline of his head,      embellished tonality dissolving into a raw firmness that imparts something more familiar between them.      ‶ your concern is very touching,      i’ll admit,      but we both know you aren’t here for our usual back and forth. ″

@salvatoraes asked : you've been avoiding me. / prompts .

[mitchamsocialuser]

A Delicious Recipe For Pulled Lamb Shoulder

If you’re looking for a recipe for pulled lamb shoulder, you’ve come to the right place. Here, you’ll find a simple recipe, plus tips on smoking, rendering, and storage. Follow along and make a great pulled lamb dish for any occasion! Just remember: always read the instructions before attempting to cook anything, and make sure to use quality ingredients.

Recipe

If you’re looking for a delicious and easy recipe for pulled lamb shoulder, this is it. You can make the meat in a traditional oven, or you can use a combi steamer. Either way, the main goal is to cook the meat until the internal temperature reaches 185 degrees. Once the lamb is done, it should be tender and easy to tear apart. The cooking time can range from four to six hours. In the meantime, you can prepare the sauce. It takes about five to seven minutes to come to a boil and thicken.

To make the lamb, you can use a bulb of garlic and onion to form a base for the meat. You can also use Mexican spices to create a flavorful rub, including cinnamon, star anise, orange, ground cumin, smoked paprika, and mild chilli powder. These spices are readily available at your local supermarket.

Rendering

Rendering pulled lamb shoulder involves trimming away the exterior fat and slicing it thinly. The goal is to leave about an eighth inch of fat on the shoulder. This fat will help keep the meat underneath moist during the lengthy smoking process. Eventually, the fat will render off and leave you with a beautiful, juicy piece of meat.

Wrap the shoulder in foil or butcher paper. Then, place the lamb into the smoker. After an hour, the temperature should have reached 165 to 170 degrees Fahrenheit. Check the meat with thermometer probes to make sure it is cooked through. The meat should be soft and fall off the bone easily.

Smoking

Smoking pulled lamb shoulder can be a simple task. After the meat has smoked for about five hours, it’s time to shred it. You can use a meat shredding claw to pull apart the large chunks, or you can use a regular dinner fork. If the meat is too tough to shred, wrap it in aluminum foil and put it back in the smoker for another 30 minutes. This method makes the meat moist without allowing it to dry out.

To smoke lamb, place 3 to 5 oak wood chunks in your smoker. This will give the meat a slightly smokey flavor. In addition, the additional heat will help crisp up the lamb’s skin and fat. Depending on your smoker, you may need to cook your meat for up to six hours. While your lamb is cooking, use a probe thermometer to check the internal temperature. A temperature of 195deg F or 205deg F is perfect for pulling lamb. You can also keep the meat moist by adding water to the drip pan.

Storage

If you are making pulled lamb shoulder at home, the question of how to store the meat is a valid one. Lamb is a great meat that keeps well for up to several weeks. You can also freeze it to use at a later date. However, it is advisable to consume it as soon as possible.

Lamb shoulder is freezer friendly when it is slow-cooked. Once it cools, transfer it to a freezer-safe container, dividing it into smaller portions and freezing it for up to 3 months. The meat can then be thawed out by putting it in a refrigerator overnight. Then, you can reheat it in a microwave or stovetop.

Reheating

Reheating pulled lamb shoulder is simple, but it requires a few extra steps. Firstly, you’ll need to take your lamb out of the fridge so that it is at room temperature. Next, you’ll need to remove any leftover liquid, including stock or juices. Wrap it in aluminum foil or place it on a wire rack. You can also place a damp paper towel over the meat while it is resting.

Once the lamb has finished cooking, it should be falling-apart tender. It will be juicy and have a lot of liquid in the pan. Once it’s done, transfer the lamb to a large plate and cover it loosely with foil. This should keep it warm until dinnertime.

[sweetiecutie]

Pairing: Theodore Nott x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, face riding, pussyeating, Theo choking on dat puss

Soft candlelight pours throughout unusually deserted and quiet dorm, the only sounds shuddering the peaceful space of the room are someone’s heavy breathing and occasional whimpers and squeals

Your thighs straddle Theodore’s head as you sit right on his handsome face, his nose nudges your needy hooded clit as his mouth works diligently on your core, licking and playing with puffy pussylips, teasing your entrance with his tongue. He inhales sharply, the scent of your body fills his senses, leaving his mind giddy and world spinning, with you being the only thing in the whole world he truly cares about

Theo lets out a small whimper as you make first timid rocks of your hips, dragging your pussy against his open mouth, literally fucking your boyfriend’s face. His grip on the meat of your thighs tightens, kneading pliable flesh between his fingers, leaving crescent-shaped marks of his nails on your tender skin

You card your trembling fingers through the head of Theodore’s curly brown hair, tugging on silky locks softly, causing boy’s eyes to roll back into his skull. He moans into your core, sending mild vibrations running through your body, making your back arch, pressing yourself even closer to the boy beneath you

At first you were hesitant when Theo brought up the idea of you sitting on his face. The fear of breaking his neck was the main factor stopping you from fulfilling your boyfriend’s wish. But he somehow managed to talk you into this and god - you don’t regrets a single thing

- Theo… - you squeal pitifully, tears of pleasure gather in the corners of your eyes as you start grinding against boy’s face more ferociously, feeling your own high nearing. Nott just hums in approval, urging you to go further, to pleasure yourself on him, to use him as your personal fuck toy

He sucks on your drenched folds softly, gathering your slick with his warm tongue, moaning quietly at the blissful taste of you. You barely manage to hold back a loud cry when Theo goes to assaulting your clit, sucking and nibbling on it softly, turning you into a puddle, making even the bones in your body soft

Your whole being thrums with mind-numbing pleasure, making you forget about everything and everyone but Theo, his big hands on your hips, his hot breath on the insides of your thighs and his tongue pumping in and out of your drenched hole

Something tight snaps deep within you, the dam finally breaks as hot pleasure crashes over your body, blurring your vision with white and making you shudder strongly. Your grip on Theo’s hair tightens, tugging on his curls, as your thighs close subconsciously, straddling his head in-between them. Electricity runs up and down your spine, making your muscles spasm occasionally, mind swims in sweet pools of warmth that usually comes after orgasm and it’s boy’s strong arms gripping your hips that bring you back into reality

You look down at boy’s red face as realization hits you - you’re choking him. You hastily find your balance, getting to your knees, allowing Theo to breath properly again. You slide down to sit on his lap, feeing his hard cock nudging one of your bums through layers of his underwear and sweatpants

- Damn baby, you almost suffocated me, - Theo chuckles softly, breathing deeply through his nose, his eyes full of love and adoration as he looks up at your teary face. You blush slightly, patting his head and smoothing the mess of a hair you’ve created, smiling weakly in return. - A wonderful place to die, if I’m being honest

You swat his shoulder playfully, feeling your lips stretching in a wide grin. Theo’s tongue runs over his swollen pink lips, gathering all the reminds of your juices, even though most of it glistens on his chin and cheeks. The sight makes you blush even further, even though you can’t deny that brunette looks incredibly sexy like that

His warm hands make their way to your ass again, gripping on soft flesh, urging you to grind slightly against the tent in his pants, causing soft sigh to escape his lungs. Your still numb from recent orgasm fingers grip on the waistband of brunette’s pants, tugging it down his legs together with his boxers. You can’t just leave Theo like this, needy and unsatisfied, especially not after how good he’s just made you feel

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated. Share your smutty thoughts with me, that’d really help me create more content💖

[littlefreya]

Dirty Henry

Summary: A picnic in the rural forest turns into a steamy game of profanities as Henry decides to demonstrate how he would persuade you to be his.

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader (2nd person POV)

Word count: 2K

Warning: 18+, smutty smut, oral sex - female receiving, lewd, descriptive profanities that will make your ears burn,praising, outdoor sex, gentle rough sex, creampie. 

A/N: This was requested ages ago: messing around with Henry duri picnic. The dirty talk was inspired by a chat with Wendy. Beta’d by the one and only queen @agniavateira. The Mythology quotes of Apollo and Dapne are based on Wikipedia. *No permission is given of reposting, copying my work or ideas and parts from it and claiming it as your own* 

Feedback is welcome, comment and reblog if you enjoyed. 

Title: Dirty Henry

Honey-coloured leaves floated in the air, flapping tenderly like frail butterflies that danced frivolously in the wind. Lying on your back over a blanket, you watched them as you listened to the rustle of leaves and the water flowing down the small stream nearby.  

Henry’s head rested on your thigh; his smooth baritone stroked your ears in the most satisfying melody you’ve ever heard as he read to from his book.

“...Offended by Apollo’s remarks, Eros has decided to take vengeance on the god. He shot him with a golden arrow, causing him to fall intensely in love with Daphne, the fair river nymph, which he then shot with a lead arrow, imbuing her with pure hatred toward Apollo.”

A small grin peeked at the corners of your lips, your hand reaching to find the dark bundle of curls on his head and began coaxing them around your slender fingers. 

The forest smelled of evergreen mist, mushy lichen, and tranquil tree stumps that had new lifeforms growing on them. On the tip of your nose, you caught Henry’s distinguished scent. His earthy musk called you by your name.  

Henry wiggled slightly on your thigh and cleared his throat before he continued reading.

“Apollo chased the virginal nymph through the thicket, all the while declaring his undying love. When all seemed lost, Daphne cried out and begged her father, Peneus, to save her from Apollo’s unwanted courtship.”

“When a guy is so annoying that you have to turn into a tree in order to get rid of him for good,” you teased while inhaling the alluring scent of the forest.

Henry chuckled lightly, his head bobbing on your leg. He turned on his side and looked at you, his cut cheeks rose to a playful smile. “Well, perhaps all Apollo needed was a chance to show her his true affection to persuade her.”

“Oh, is that so?” you tilted your head to gaze at Henry with amusement, noticing the spark of mischief that shone in his cobalt eyes. He placed the book down on its belly and flipped onto his haunches, planting a kiss on your exposed ankle.   

“Perhaps…” he uttered, the soft pads of his fingers running up the path of your leg like tongues of silk. Your leg jolted at his touch, breaking down to the ground feebly. Henry leaned down, nudging your other leg aside, his mouth was hot and wet around your inner thigh. “...all she needed was for him to show her.”

You nibbled your lip, watching Henry’s dark curls shine between your knees in the scattered daylight. His broad back flexed, taut muscles moved in synergy as he worked through the path to your hidden garden.

“Sometimes, you just need to eat her pussy properly, and she’s yours.” he said huskily. You flushed at his profanities, your cheeks tingling as blood rushed to your head. He had a way with words; they didn’t just sound dirty; they were sin itself, and his rich British accent made even the most sacrilegious statement deeply romantic. 

Henry was well aware of your embarrassment, teasing you for your false chastity. He used his mouth in many talented ways, whispering lust against your enticing flesh to make your ears burn. 

You stared coyly, hugging your breasts like a shy lover, watching him explore you as if you were uncharted territory. 

His tongue embarked through the vale of your body, leaving a wet trail that chilled your skin in the October breeze. You threw your head back and hissed to the canopy of leaves that hid the two of you from the sky. Every touch of his fingers against your flesh set feverish ripples through your skin. Possessive hands grasped at soft the hills of your breasts and squeezed tightly while his lips marked their way below your navel.

He enjoyed this, making you feel so powerless. His deep blue eyes pierced sharply as your head went from side to side like a scared virgin, biting your knuckle as excitement blazed between your sweaty inner thighs. His greedy fingers gripped at the meat of your hips, folding your legs up and splitting them while his head dived in-between.

The soft curls of his hair tickled the naked skin of your apex. Lush and tender kisses dotted the line that led to your core. 

“Henry, please,” you begged, out of breath. His fingers stroked the shape of your womanhood, rimming the gates of your garden with the soft pads of his finger. He laid a kiss on the silk shawl of your clit and an amorous hum spilt from him, appeased at the lusciousness of your skin. 

“I love your cunt, so much.” his words slurred with sultry haze, emphasising the one word that made your muscles sear with embarrassment. You threaded your fingers through your hair and tugged at it as frustration and tension grew across your nerves. 

It was astonishing how vocal he was whilst roping simple words with sinful actions. 

He kissed your cherry, tongue lapping around it slowly before his lips suckled longingly. A deep moan vibrated through the pit of his mouth, making you mewl with blissful little jolts of pleasure. 

“Fuck,” Henry murmured as he broke from your clit and moved his lips against the sweet petals of your cunt, his hot breath caressing your succulent fruit. “I’m going to lick every inch of this marvellous pussy, and then fuck you with my tongue.” 

The air vaporised in your lungs; moans didn’t even meet their end, becoming hoarse wheezes, shuddering through the threads of your sinew. Violent tremors made your legs jitter in his grip, had he not held you forcefully they would have fallen aside. 

A low chuckle escaped him as he hooked one of your knees over his shoulder and moved a hand to manipulate your folds. His fingers unwrapped you, pulling your valley open to allow his tongue taste the nectar of your arousal.

Your entire body arched as if possessed, your spine levitating over the surface, desperate howls sent to the sky above. His tongue lingered through your seams, collecting every drop attentively. 

“Be a good girl, and I’ll shove my cock inside you.”

Speech was another one of his powers, enchanting you entirely. You whimpered as his hips bucked against yours in a desperate demand. He would never just fuck you, no, Henry loved to take his time. Foreplay would go for hours if he felt like it, playing with your body until your throat went dry and ached and your bones melted away. 

“You like it, don’t you?” he asked as he ran the snake in his mouth all the way through your swollen crease. “Me going deep inside your sweet little cunny, splitting you open, shooting my load inside you.” 

He expected no answer as you couldn’t form any, but you cried out and ripped turfs of grass in your hands instead. His large tongue sank inside your cunt, invading as deep as possible between the velvet walls. He curled it skillfully, savouring on the taste with a delightful moan. 

Pleasing you gave him just as much bliss. You were made to believe you were ambrosia which he feasted on. 

His mouth mapped your insides, knowing every spot, lavishing it on repeat while your moans increased, turning into hopeless cries. This man has read the language of your body. He knew when you were close and he knew how to prolong his torture- to make it last, to make you scream. 

And scream you did, with tears rolling down your temples, eyes squeezed shut as the stimulation became too much. He sucked on your cunt and plunged his tongue, getting you close and then far again. 

The pleasure bundled at the edge of your core, knotting your muscles from your orgasm. In despair, you squirmed, frustration making you seek for any means to breach through heaven which was just a kiss away. Waving from side to side, you pleaded, but Henry’s large hand slid onto your lower torso, pressing you down to be grounded with nothing but slight force. He limited your movement as he ate you out profoundly, his tongue singing hymns in your depth.

“Henry!” you wailed, unable to withstand his torture. His chin chafed you, his tongue squirmed between your lush lips and just when you thought you were to blackout, he thrust the tip of his into the spot that made you see stars. Your dam broke, your head lifted from the ground as ecstasy spasmed through every nerve, lighting it with an electric charge.

Untethered gasps fell from your mouth, chest heaving up and down as euphoria lingered by. Henry was impatient, his wide waist was already pushed between your spread-open thighs to fulfil his promise. The metallic clanging of his belt was sharp enough to pull you back down, followed by the giant hovering over your small frame and driving into your still-convulsing cavern, sliding in veins and ridges. 

And you felt it all.

A duet of moans played into the forest as your bodies collided. Henry ran deep, bottoming inside and clutching your jaw to the side, praising your neck and cheeks with earnest kisses and grunts that reverberated in your ears.   

“Fuck,” he groaned as he rocked above you back and forth, his thick shaft pulsated blazing-hot amidst the fight your walls put against his invasion. They never stood a chance, he was iron in velvet expanding them with every shove.

“Such a tight little pussy,” he breathed as he slipped in and out in a steady rhythm, “I’m going to come inside you, paint you with my seed.”

His hands seized your face again, his bulging biceps caging your head while he uttered words of praise entangled with obscenities. The threats of what he planned to do with your body, of how good it felt inside you made you wail in an embarrassing pleasure.

“Yes, take it. Take my cock,” he snarled breathlessly. He was heavy above and inside your body, every slam forcing your legs to jerk helplessly in the air and your behind to ache as it mashed beneath the weight of his body. You cried in ecstasy, feeling his entire length pumping in and out. Long, rasping plunges spiralled inside with tingling little tremors that danced in your essence and continued to spread further the tighter he got you. 

Feeling the tightness grow around his shaft he snapped his arms beneath your knees, spreading you wider so he could fuck you vigorously into oblivion. You screamed his name in despair, his grip making you no more than a fucktoy to which he jostled his cock into, back and forth, wet and quick.

And you loved it, you loved feeling like you’re nothing but a slit for him; your entire essence shattered, destroyed by his body, consumed by your love for him. The new position made his sac thud lewdly beneath your slit, and your clit repeatedly ground into his pubic bone. 

The merciless ordeal was too much, seeing Henry above you and herding his moans was too much.

“Henry!!! Fuck! I...”  You were broken in, sobs of pure bliss cracked through your throat as you came undone, bursting with love. Your head rolled back on the ground, and your body locked him in with zeal. Henry groaned, sinking his teeth into your shoulder as he felt the suction in you, pulling him deeper like a siren drowning a lost sailor. Your convulsing walls begged for the rich milk of his loins as he fought to delay his pleasure, but lost to the turbulence that overwhelmed him.

Shouting your name, he released himself, gasping hot against the corner of your mouth. You were stuffed full of his cum as he pulled out; he held your legs up and slid your panties back on. 

“I want it to stay,” he explained, “I want you to carry me in your panties all day long.”

He crawled to lie by your side and reached his hand to the book. His finger went into his mouth to dampen it as he turned the page over as if nothing happened.

“Next chapter, Hades and Persephone.” 

[lepusrufus]

Sometimes the girls butt heads, sometimes they tear each other to shreds. This got kinda long so im breaking it into two parts since i have two sketches for it anyways. Enjoy the gory angst under the cut my lovelies (and the sketch although kinda messy)

(Also in case there’s any confusion, here’s my hc on how the daughter’s mutations work. Just in case anyone looks at this and thinks why tf does she have weird bat wings)

Butting heads part 1 (p2)

“Shut up, Bela! Shut the fuck up!”

The shout, bordering on a howl, could be heard all throughout the lower levels of the castle. Cassandra was pinned to the wall by her older sister, an arm pressed firmly against her throat. She was thrashing wildly, talon tipped fingers ripping at anything they could reach. But Bela was more focused on the elongating sharp fangs snapping in her direction. 

“Cassandra calm down-”

“No. You don’t know shit! Fuck you!”

Her skin was starting to turn ashy and thick, dark blood was dripping from her nose and mouth, some of it splattering on Bela’s face. The mutation was even causing her flies to destabilize, part of the swarm buzzing frantically around them, unable to find its place. 

The situation was escalating quickly and Bela’s calm was cracking under her sister's talons. Too focused on keeping Cassandra in place, she couldn’t will her flies to break apart and reform when long claws were slashing at her arms. She could feel her own blood coating her skin and soaking her dress. 

Even on a good day, Cassandra was physically the strongest. What she may have lacked in speed she made up for in sheer brute force. And that was when she looked like a semi normal human.

Daniela was well aware of this, so when she approached the two to help, Bela’s head quickly snapped in her direction. 

“No, Dani stay ba-”

The small distraction was all Cassandra needed to push herself off the brick wall and come crashing down on top of her sister. Her hand was pushing down with all her weight crushing bone and muscle. A choked yelp escaped Bela’s lips when her sister suddenly bit down on her midsection, close to the bottom of her ribcage, and yanked her head back, pulling apart the blood soaked skin. 

Then everything went black.

Bela could faintly hear a fourth voice drowned out by frantic buzzing. Were the flies hers or Cassandra’s? The heavy weight on top of her was lifted and all she could do was curl up and groan in pain. She instinctively tried to cover her abdomen but when her hand came in contact with exposed and torn muscle, pain shot through her entire body like a bullet. Her right arm also seemed to not obey her, pain joining in on the agony party each time she tried to lift it off the dirty floor. The floor had been clean before. Why did it feel so grimy under her body now? The only explanation that her hazy mind could come up with was that she was laying in a puddle of blood. Whether it was hers, Cassandra’s or both was up to debate. 

A series of strangled growls reached her ears accompanied by a rushed exchange of words and the buzzing was starting to feel like static and everything was so goddamn loud. 

She was somewhat snapped out of her haze when a pair of arms lifted her along with a gentle voice.

“Hey, hey, you’re good I got you”

“Daniela?” 

Her youngest sister’s face came slowly into focus after realizing that her inability to see was caused by keeping her eyes tightly shut. She wouldn't normally allow such vulnerability but right now she was tired and the entirety of her upper body hurt and each breath was painfully ragged. So she defeatedly leaned on her sister’s shoulder and allowed herself to be carried to what she assumed was the infirmary. 

----

A couple hallways away, Alcina was carrying her thrashing and growling middle daughter. Without another body to claw at, Cassandra resorted to sinking her talons into her own flesh, clearly in pain now. Her mother quickened her pace and finally ducked into a bedroom. It was one of the more barren rooms of the castle, with only a couple pieces of furniture and a large bed inside. It had no decoration that could be crashed into and cause her child any more injuries. 

Cassandra was gingerly lowered on the soft sheets, Alcinas tenderness a stark contrast to her daughter’s violent shaking and clawing at the fabric on the bed. 

Cassandra had yet to regain any semblance of conscious thought. All Alcina could do for her was sit beside her and wait for hunger to take over enough for her body to be too weak to exist in that state. She tried gentle strokes, but each touch, no matter how gentle, broke the skin into a small frantic swarm that seemed to struggle to find its place again. It felt like hours before Cassandra stopped spasming, but with how fast hunger settled in when the girls mutated it couldn’t have been more than ten minutes. 

“Mom?” Her voice came out raspy and choked, probably due to the blood stuck in her throat.

“I’m here little one.” 

Alcina tentatively stroked her daughter’s damp hair. When her form remained whole, she gently pulled her head in her lap.

“It hurts-” 

Her complaint was cut short with a groan at the searing pain caused by hunger. She wrapped her arms around her midsection in an useless attempt to ease her own suffering. 

Alcina winced at how Cassandra was dipping her talons into the skin of her abdomen, too delirious to realize that was only causing more pain. So she grabbed her hands and held them still.

Cassandra started to shake again, mumbling under her breath.

“We were-...were hunting and I” she interrupted herself with a sob “messed up. Bela an…. ‘m sorry-”

“Shh, it’s okay love. You need to focus on going back to normal now darling,” Alcina cooed.

 Cassandra scrunched her nose and shut her eyes. She did her best to focus on the flies that formed her body, willing them to set back in their rightful place and to stop shifting and breaking apart. She had mild success and now the big frantic swarm was reduced to a smaller group of flies still buzzing about the room. The hunger and pain were still present as ever though, her bones and muscles breaking and tearing apart from the mutation’s effects. 

Alcina praised her for regaining some semblance of control and told her something that fell on deaf ears. The next thing the brunette knew was that she was being shifted off her mother’s lap and out of instinct she grabbed the white dress in order to keep her near.

“Darling, did you hear me?” Alcina’s voice was soft and she waited until her daughter’s eyes were focused on her to continue. “I’m going to bring you something to eat. I’ll be back in 5 minutes.”

Cassandra only groaned in response, the mere mention of food worsening the pain in her abdomen. She nodded slowly and curled back into herself, allowing her mother to exit the room in a rush. 

Left alone, she kept trying to fight against her own body. She could feel the sickening cracks of her bones placing themselves back in position. Her muscles felt like writhing parasites under her skin, shifting and twisting and occasionally falling apart into flies to reposition themselves. The hunger was the perfect cherry on top of the agony cake she was feeling.

It felt like an eternity before the door finally opened and her mother approached the bed with a big plate of fresh raw meat. Cassandra started to dig in the moment it was within her reach. She didn’t know exactly what body part she was chewing on at the moment but she didn’t care in the slightest. It took her no more than five minutes to finish everything, almost choking a couple of times.

She sighed in relief and let her head fall back on the now stained sheets. The pain was still present, but it felt more like a dull ache rather than jolts shaking her entire body. The comforting circles that her mother was rubbing on her back were also helping. 

“How are you feeling, little one?” 

“Better.”

Alcina smiled fondly at her daughter, leaning down to place a soft kiss on the top of her head. 

“Will you be alright on your own for a bit? I need to check on Bela-”

The brunette’s head snapped up, eyes wide. She had forgotten how this mess started in the first place and now that she remembered, guilt started to gnaw at her like the ache in her bones. 

“I’ll come with y-”

“Ah ah ah, you will do no such thing. Rest for now, I’m sure she’s fine,” she lied. The image of Bela laying on the floor in a puddle of her own blood and her upper body almost torn to shreds was seared in her mind. The only comfort right now came from the fact that Daniela was taking care of her and, while unpredictable, her youngest cared deeply about her sisters and was more than capable of patching wounds.

Alcina planted another kiss on Cassandra's head and placed a blanket on top of her. She left her side with the promise of coming back shortly and exited the room, door left just slightly ajar so she could hear if her daughter called for her.

[mylkys]

ʜɪɢʜ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ

nanami kento x f!reader

warnings: 18+ smut. pwp. daddy kink. fingering.

word count: 1,667

“relax, princess. i’ve got you.”

you shivered as nanami littered kisses upon your nude body, your nipple pebbling under his wandering fingertips. he suckled small marks along your torso as he slithered down towards your splayed out legs. nanami sat on his knees as he explored with his lips, his hands now massaging the tender meat of your thighs. 

“‘nami,” you whimpered. nanami cooed quietly at you, his thin lips perched in a small smile as he gazed up your body. 

“hush, little one. daddy’s going to take care of you.”

you whined at the pet name, and your body obviously approved as more slick seeped out of your sensitive pussy. you watched as nanami took in the sight of your leaking sex, his forearms flexing as he adjusted his grip on your thighs. his adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped. 

“my little sweetheart is so wet, isn’t she? tell me what you want, darling,” he groaned. his thumbs moved to your cunt, and pulled apart the folds of your outer labia. nanami sighed as the cool air of the room chilled your hot flesh, your little hole fluttering with the need to be filled. “answer me, love.”

“i want-“ you shivered as nanami devoured your flush cunt with hungry eyes. “i want your mouth.”

“is that how you ask daddy, little one? try again.”

you whimpered at his reprimand, your thighs quivering besides his hips. “please daddy, please use your mouth.”

“good girl,” nanami groaned, and you blushed at his praise. his hands slipped to the back of your knees, and pushed them to your chest. “be a good darling and hold these for me.”

your eyes watered as you obeyed, your shaky hands replacing his. his eyes were hot as they committed your curled body to memory. his cock pressed heavily against the fabric of his pants, but he ignored it as he descended between your thighs. 

nanami’s scorching breath fanned over your tingling lips, and his thumbs returned, spreading your labia wide for his wandering eyes. his pupils expanded as he took in the sight of your throbbing little clit. 

“your little cunt is so pretty, sweetheart.” nanami dipped down and flicked his tongue over your tiny entrance, tasting both the flesh of your cunt and the sweetness of your juices. you whimpered at the stimulus. 

“fuck, princess,” nanami growled, “your pussy tastes divine.” 

nanami didn’t hesitate to dive into your pussy. he licked a long wet stripe from your perineum to your clit, drinking your slick as he mouth at your cunny. 

“daddy!” you squealed, a burning heat enveloping your lower half. 

nanami’s soft tongue poked and fluttered your engorged button. he suckled the little bud into his mouth and suckled, milking the over sensitive nerves with his lips. he released your clit with a pop, and licked another long strip over your pulsing cunt. 

you gasped as his tongue lathered your pussy in a layer of saliva, and felt some of the slick drip down over your little pucker, chilling the sensitive rim. nanami was making a mess of your cunt. 

“i could eat your little cunt all day, little one,” nanami murmured against your cunt, the vibrations going straight to your clit. 

you warbled beautifully as he suckled your nub between his lips, his hands reaching up and grabbing at your tits. he tweaked your tight nipples with his fingertips, pulling and tugging the hard peaks with each moan you unleashed. 

it became increasingly difficult to hold your knees as your hands shook. you whimpered as your finger slipped and one of your knees jerked. 

nanami looked up from his meal, brows furrowed as he observed you. “are you okay, sweetheart?”

your lip quivered at his gentle voice, and you could feel little tears gather at the corners of your eyes. nanami cooed at your pathetic state. he massaged with soft flesh of your tummy soothingly, and let you catch your breath. you were always so easy to overwhelm when you were this deep in. 

“i need you to answer me, darling. can you do that?” he questioned slowly. his lithe fingers helped ground you a bit, bringing you back from the haze just enough for you to answer. 

“my-my legs. i-i can’t-!” 

it was near impossible to form coherent sentences, but nanami being the good daddy he was, understood you completely. 

“shh, little one. daddy’s got you. you can let go.”

your hands abandoned your legs in favor of grasping nanami’s hair, effectively ruining the impeccable style. he didn’t say anything, just offered you a reassuring smile, and wrapped his arms around your thighs. he pinned you down by his large hand folded over your stomach, and stroke the soft skin. 

“don’t cum until i say.”

that was all the warning nanami gave you before diving night back where he left off. he sucked down the juices that accumulated at your entrance, and slipped inside. 

you screamed as his tongue pumped inside your walls, feeling his pliable tongue thrusting in and out of your pulpy cunt. the loud schlick of his tongue fucking your pussy encased the bedroom, filling it with the sounds of your soaking sex. 

“daddy!” you wailed as you yanked at his hair. he groaned at the pain, and his efforts increased. one of his hands smoothed down over your mons, and firmly stroked the pad of his thumb over your swollen clit. he circled his thumb over your clit, pressing it firmly against your public bone. 

nanami groaned against your pussy as you screamed, the vibrations of his voice reverberating throughout your whole cunny. white hot pleasure began to cloak your body as his tongue continued to thrash between your swollen walls. 

he panted heavily against your pussy, his hot breath washed over your cunt as he gulped you down. a knot in your pussy began to tighten as your orgasm built deeper into your core. 

“daddy-“ you gasped. you were overwhelmed by the heat gathering in your tummy. his tongue pulled from your pussy, and you whined as he sat above you. his flicking thumb slowed but didn’t stop. 

“are you close, sweetheart?” nanami asked sweetly, also condensing. his other hand moved from your tummy to your cunt, and he plunged his fingers inside. your walls were well lubricated with your slick and his spit, and your hole sucked them in easily. 

you tossed your head back and cried as his finger delved deep inside your pussy, your hands grabbing at the sheets with a white-knuckle grip. 

“answer me, little one. are. you. close?” nanami seethed in your ear. 

you gasped out a weak mhm, and bobbed your head uselessly. it was hard to think, the only thing in your mind was the need for your daddy to make you cum. 

“hold on,” he grunted. nanami waited for your weak hands to grab his shoulders, and when you did, he’ll broke loose. 

nanami held no mercy for your pussy as he pistoned his fingers into your walls. you screamed as his finger curled harshly against your g-spot, hips bucking wildly at the influx of pleasure. 

nanami growled at your wiggling hips, and pressed the hand near your clit firmly against your lower tummy, pinning you down. his fingers curled and uncurled against that fleshy spot in your pussy, practically vibrating with how fast he moved. 

“da-addy!” you sobbed. the sensation was too much, you were so close. one of your hands abandoned his shoulders and dipped between you thighs, rubbing harshly against the clit he stopped stimulating. 

normally nanami would scold you for touching your pussy without his permission, but he could feel just how tightly you were clenching around his fingers. you were on the brink of climax, and he’d do anything of it meant you’d get there. 

“c’mon, little one. cum for daddy,” he encouraged, voice raspy and harsh, as if he’d been the one crying in pleasure all night. 

your body heeded his command, and as you began to release, the sensation suddenly spiked. your orgasm was different, deeper, stronger, and seconds later, you shrieked as your cum splash over his hand and forearm, drenching his torso with ejaculate. 

you shakes violently as your orgasm took over, the milk white cum squirting out of your over sensitive cunt and all over nanami. he’s desperate encouragements and pleas for you to keep cumming, keep cumming, don’t you fucking stop echoing through your hazy brain. his fingers never stalled, and when he noticed your hand was too shaky to keep up with flicking your clit, he slapped it away and took over. 

you cried as another way over cum sprayed over him, drenching him with your release. your pussy burned as the sensation became too much, your orgasm now faded and finished, and you attempted to close your legs. 

nanami quickly removed his fingers from deep within your cunt, and made you whimpered at the sudden empty feeling. he sucked his fingers clean shucked off his soaked shirt before gathering you in his arms, cradling you gently to his make chest. 

“shh, sweetheart. you did so good for daddy. such a good sweetheart for me,” nanami mumbled into your hair as he pressed kisses against your face. he waited patiently for you to come back down. 

a few moments passed before enough of your brain fog melted away for you to think, and you noticed his heavily swollen cock pressing firmly against your hip. you gulped as you looked up at his lust-blown pupils. 

“daddy,” you whispered shakily. he smiled softly at you, tucking a wild strand of hair behind your ear. 

“yes, love?”

you broke from his gaze to look back at his large bulge, and shyly cupped him in your hand. he groaned and bucked lightly into your palm. 

“i want your cock, daddy,” you whimpered, looking back up at him with wide and wet eyes. he inhaled sharply and pinned you to the bed. 

“don’t worry, little one. it’s all yours.”

[bellsarefun]

𝕯𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖈 (Dragon! Bakugo x Reader)

【ｓｕｍｍａｒｙ：(Y/N) (L/N) lives a surprisingly domestic life alongside her husband, the powerful hot-headed dragon Katsuki Bakugo.】

【ｐａｉｒｉｎｇ：Dragon! Katsuki Bakugo x Female! Reader】

【ｒａｔｉｎｇ：PG-13 — All characters featured in this story have been aged up over eighteen. Also, there is gore and blood in this, so if you are upset by that this isn’t for you.】

【ｗｏｒｄ　ｃｏｕｎｔ：2.6k 】

【Ｎｅｘｔ　Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ: Part 2】

(Y/N)’s hands kneaded soft, fluffy, pale dough on a stone counter top fitted in smooth grey stone, the flour falling like snow on her pale beige apron. Her mind wandered with the routine task; make the bread, let it rise, and then bake for one hour—she had done it all before.

Grabbing a nearby bread pan, she eased the freshly kneaded dough into the oak wood bowl. Her hands wiping the bits and pieces of stray batter on the fabric apron tied tightly around her waist. Once she had cleaned them in a nearby water basin, she laid a tea towel over the mouth of the bowl to rise for a few hours.

‘Finally, done. I can take a minute to relax.’ The woman thought to herself, untying the nice bow created by the laces of her apron. ‘Let’s hope he doesn’t get back early.’

Hanging the apron on a nearby hook near the entrance to the makeshift kitchen, she stretched her arms high over her head. Her neck muscles protested angrily as they were strained, but she smiled at the relief shooting across her form.

She looked around the kitchen, her (E/C) eyes scanning the beaten stone counter tops, the haphazardly hanging plants from the ceiling, and scratched wooden shelves for any sign of misplacement or grime. The rocky interior walls casted dancing shadows from the many flickering candles around the room.

Satisfied with her keen observation, she hummed to herself contently. Her feet spinning on their heels as she walked out of the kitchen, making a mental note to light the slab, stone oven afterward.

The kitchen lead into a larger room, large wooden support beams held up the ceiling in every corner. There was a large rounded bed pressed against the wall to her left, large furs and pelts were piled in a heap on the bed. On the farthest wall led a corridor where bright sunlight streamed through from the outside—a stairway could be seen in the corridor leading into a dimly lid spiral down.

(Y/N) noted a few of the candles had blown out in the room, presumably the breeze from outside had extinguished the weak flames. She sighed to herself, straightening out her white blouse and suspenders while she moved to a small table across from the bed.

A small green book embroidered with gold detailing waited for her on the scratched dark wood of the table. Her hands picking up the book she seated herself on one of the chairs, but she soon felt herself falling back onto the cold ground with a painful thud.

(Y/N) groaned, holding the side of her head carefully as the world spun around her in a warm blur. Her eyes managing to focus on the chair who had spitefully broken under her the moment she sat down.

“For fucks sake, of course.” She cursed under her breath, using her elbows to hoist herself up from her spot on the floor. Her hand searching for the book that had been flung from her hand, finding it a few feet away.

Looking at the chair, one of the legs had given out and the scratched up, claw-marked, and singed wood wasn’t able to hold weight any longer. It was a wonder how it didn’t break sooner.

“Fucker almost killed me.” (Y/N) voiced allowed to no one in particular, the stabbing pain in her head not receding and only increasing as she pushed herself to standing.

‘I really need to find other furniture that the ones he steals from his raids. A new set of chairs is something I’d pay money for.’ She thought to herself, running a through her hair and picking out pieces of dirt and splinters from her (H/C) locks.

A large roar shook the entire inside of the cave, the forceful vibration almost sending (Y/N) tumbling once again. The book nearly falling from her grasp, but this time she clenched it tightly in her fingers. The sound of scraping stone echoed wildly in (Y/N)’s ears, her face scrunching up at the unpleasant sound.

Her hand was quickly placed on the rocky wall beside her, watching the furniture, that had been fashioned to the wall with wires, to make sure nothing broke. ‘That bastard just had to come now.’

“Tiny! Where the fuck are you? I’m back if you hadn’t noticed.” The loud booming voice emanated from the corridor, the pissed of tone making (Y/N) roll her eyes. She scrambled to the doorway of the kitchen, her book forgotten on the table, and she checked to make sure the bread bowl hadn’t fallen off the counter—luckily, it hadn’t.

“I’m coming, I’m coming, you impatient bastard wait one minute!” (Y/N) called back to the voice, her eye brows narrowing as she noticed the plates and bowls that had fallen from their wooden shelves.

“Whaa? You calling me a bastard, you better watch your fucking mouth, human.” The voice responded sourly, the unmistakable growl that edged it’s way into the tone making (Y/N) chuckle lightly to herself.

She walked toward the corridor of the room, noting that most of the candles has blown out in the rumbling. The rocky hallway was rather small and led into a larger cave with a ceiling that stretched meters above her head. There were no stalactites, like they had been broken off purposely.

Sunlight streamed into the large cave from outside, giving it enough natural light to see around without any aid of candles or lanterns. In the corner of the cave sitting with his legs crossed, his hands tearing at the meat of a freshly killed deer, was Bakugo.

(Y/N) rubbed the back of her neck in defeat, seeing the blood already beginning to pool around the carcass of the poor animal.

“I’m here and already, you’ve made a mess.” She commented in disgust, walking over to the man as he turned around to face her—lips and cheeks smeared with thick red blood.

Bakugo swallowed the meat in his mouth, the hind leg of the deer had been ripped off the animal and was being held in his hands.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re a fucking clean freak.” He retorted, his mouth opening and taking a large squelching bite of the raw meat. “Only humans would worry about shit like this.”

(Y/N) hummed, rolling her eyes as she scanned him up and down—he would definitely need a bath after he was done his “meal.” The blood soaked into his pants and the beautiful white fur of his long red cloak around his shoulders. The red sticky ooze seeped over his toned, muscled body.

“If you’re eating all of it, just give me tender loins to cook please.” (Y/N) sighed defeatedly, the smell of raw bloody meat hitting her nostrils in an unrelenting attack of metal and gore. 

“You humans and your risk of worms.” He grumbled under his breath, his hand reached toward the back of the deer and shoved his hand into the back—through the pelt. (Y/N) winced at the sound of his hand pulling out the two strips of meat, his other hand shoving another mouthful of meat into his mouth. No matter how much (Y/N) has seen him rip flesh from bone, it still made her nauseous sometimes.

“You’re looking green, Tiny. Go back inside, if you’re going to vomit your insides out again.” Bakugo said, his crimson eyes scanning up and down (Y/N)’s pale face. His hand threw over the two pieces of tenderloin, the meat landing on the ground with a splat.

(Y/N) nodded her head silently, crouching down and delicately picking up the strips of deer. The blood was still warm in her palms and she groaned at the thought of getting the red stains on her nice blouse.

“If any of this gets on my shirt, I’m slipping laxative in your water.” (Y/N) threatened, hurrying toward the corridor once again and she heard the outraged exclamation of Bakugo behind her. 

“You better not, fucking tiny ass human. I will rip your precious books to smithereens.” Bakugo shouted after her with a growl, the woman rolling her eyes around her skull in response.

“Okay, dragon boy, let’s see you fucking try. I’ll bleach your cape pink.” (Y/N) jabbed back, calling over her shoulder at Bakugo who continued to munch on the meat. She could hear him grumbling curses under his breath and she giggled softly to herself.

(Y/N) hurried through the corridor, through the room, and into the kitchen. She could see a drop of blood preparing to fall onto the floor she zoomed toward a clean bucket and dropped the meat into it. Her palms leaned on the counter for support, for some reason the smell of the fresh meat made her feel sick to her stomach.

She sharpened a knife and began trimming the meat on the counter. It wasn’t long after she heard Bakugo come stomping through the corridor and she leaned out of the door to see the muddy tracks behind him.

“Clean your shoes off next time, I swear you lived in a barn.” (Y/N) called out, her lips frowned at the sight of the freshly mopped floors being covered in brown muck. Bakugo paused, turning around to look at the mud he was dragging through the room before he smirked deviously.

“I was raised in a cave.” He said, continuing to stride toward (Y/N) with an evil glint in his eye and her frown turned down into a scowl. “What’s wrong, Tiny? You’re looking a little pissed off.”

(Y/N) sighed and shook her head, looking at the blood still wet on his body.

“Don’t take another step, clean off the blood. We have bathing pools for a reason, dipshit.” (Y/N) demanded, pointing her sharpened bloody knife toward him. Bakugo faltered for a moment, a dangerous frown forming on his face.

“I’m not fucking that filthy. I washed yesterday, just like you asked, remember?” Bakugo retorted, his arms crossing over his chest. (Y/N) hummed at his rather adorable expression and continued flaying the strips of white fat from the meat.

“You’re covered in blood, Katsuki Bakugo, and that means your washing.” (Y/N) said, her eyes glanced down where she was happy to see that her work was pretty much finished.

Bakugo rolled his eyes and grumbled his way back toward the corridor, she was pretty sure she heard a imitation of her own voice. She simply giggled and packaged the meat in parchment paper to save for stew later and dropped any dirty dishes in the sink-bucket.

He returned a few minutes later, dripping wet and clothes in his arms. Bakugo wasn’t wearing a thing and (Y/N) noticed right away, her face turning a lovely shade of rose red.

“Okay! That’s- No clothes- Your other shirts are in the dresser!” (Y/N) said, looking away from the spectacle of a naked Bakugo. She heard his footsteps approach her and felt strong arms wrap tightly around her waist, pulling her snugly against him.

“I’ll get changed later.” He muttered against her skin, the warmth of his breath tickling the skin of her neck. “Nothing happened while I was gone?” (Y/N) was frozen in her spot, the feeling of the water dampening in her back, and her face flushing with a beautiful color of red.

“N-Nothing, the den’s been quiet as ever.” (Y/N) answered, her voice stuttering at the beginning but she managed to focus on the cutting board in front of her. “No one’s touched your precious gold horde.”

Bakugo hummed, his chin resting on top of her head, and he snuggled his face into her hair. His hands wandered about her waist, his toned chest pressing against the small of her back.

“I wasn’t worried about the gold.” He muttered quietly, the growl at the end of his voice made (Y/N)’s arms explode in goose bumps. “You smell different, tiny. Did you use the milk soap you bought a while ago?”

She paused for a moment.

“No? My smell changed?” (Y/N) asked, she had never really gotten used to the draconic abilities of her husband. Bakugo nipped at her earlobe absentmindedly, he’d always held this animalistic quality that he brought everywhere in their relationship.

“Your cinnamon smell is just different, alright? It smells like milk mixed with cinnamon.” Bakugo said, his eyes watched her hands move rhythmically as she finished up ridding the meat of any fatty tissue.

“I still don’t know why you humans are so picky.” Bakugo scoffed, shaking his head as let go of her waist and walked out of the kitchen in order to hopefully put some pants on.

“The fatty parts make the meat chewy.” (Y/N) said honestly, her eyes glanced over to Bakugo’s form but she refused to look for long—the blazing warmth in her cheeks forcing her too.

The conversation continued for awhile, (Y/N) was busily hurrying around the kitchen and chopping vegetables for the stew. Bakugo was making himself useful and watching her whisking around the kitchen from his spot sitting on one of the counters.

The stew shimmered on top of the stone oven, the bread was baking in the rocky blazing insides happily. The smell permeated the air and the warm smell making (Y/N) sigh contentedly.

“Shitty hair and pink bitch want to come over for dinner, they want to taste human cooking.” Bakugo started, the subjects of his yapping changed like the wind—it could go from hating Midoriya, to how great he is, or how he caught the deer earlier.

“Of course, I said no-”

“Why don’t you invite them over? They haven’t been over since fall, the winter’s been tough on them.” (Y/N) said, stirring the stew in the pot and sprinkling in a few herbs and spices into the shimmering pot. Bakugo scoffed.

“Hell no! They’re messier than me. That shitty hair is really fucking annoying.” He retorted, his posture straightened to a stiff board, and he muttered quietly under his breath. “He’s always touching you.”

“What is it with you dragons? Always so overprotective of your ‘mates.’“ (Y/N) sighed, looking toward her husband who huffed and shoved himself off of the counter. His shimmering ruby eyes glaring darkly in her direction, stalking over to her.

“Mates are a big fucking deal, tiny, I’ve told you this before.” (Y/N) nodded her head, her lack of listening made Bakugo snatched her wrist and pulled her roughly against his body.

“Dragons mate forever. You are mine, forever, you fucking idiot.” He growled, her smaller body was pressed flush against his. (Y/N)’s eyes widened at his serious tone, he usually wasn’t this sentimental and she expected a scoff from him instead.

Her heart fluttered in het chest, a large smile crossing her features

“I understand, Katsuki.” (Y/N) simply said, embracing her husband close to her and enjoyed the peaceful moments that followed. Two years ago, she didn’t expect to find herself here and married to the dragon that had quite rudely crashed through her house—hurting himself in the process.

For months, she nursed him back to health and somehow managed to love him in that time. Now, there they are, two years later and married. If (Y/N)’s younger self had a conversation with older (Y/N), she was sure that younger her would call her insane.

“I love you, dragon boy.” She said softly, her hand running through his spikey blond hair. Bakugo huffed and he laughed cockily.

“Who doesn’t love me?” A swift jab to the ribs made him cough and he nipped at her neck in retaliation. “Heh, I love you, tiny human.”

[corruptedconfessions]

last weekend I caved and read everything you ever uploaded here once more agskshkdd this is who i am as a person. but im love your writing so much!!! i have an especially soft spot for the naga stories, are those the ones that are about half-snake people? i always mess up the names but how do you think bakugou (and or kiri) would be as a yandere one, when he falls for the reader? i can't remember you ever writing a snake-version of him and idk if you'd be up for it but i'm super curious! xoxoxo

Aww!! Thank you so much :) 

And yes! Naga’s are the snake people, semi human from the torso up and giant ass snakes from the hips down!

Bakugou: 

If there is one word to describe yandere Naga Bakugou its possessive. It takes a lot for him to chose a mate, he is incredibly picky, picking his mate much past the typical age but once he picks?? Possessive protective to the extreme. You are his mate to do with what he pleases, and absolutely no one is going to take you away from him. Hell, he gets pissy the second another creature, intelligent or not even looks at you. You won’t be leaving his nest any time soon after he snatches you up, even trying to peek over the edges of the flattened down bowl in the ground leads to you being dragged right back to the middle and getting angrily chewed out and huffed at as you get tucked right back into the nest.

I think he’d most likely fall for a darling who hikes or walks frequently in his forest for whatever reason. A hunter, camper, or just any kind of nature enthusiast will quickly catch his eye. You’re so small…and your body is so different than his and yet you constantly come back here, carelessly leaving your scent everywhere, as if inviting him to have a taste. He isn’t one to turn down the offer. He doesn’t have any form of patience, somewhere during a mid afternoon doze and lunch he’ll come to the conclusion that he wants you, all while still ripping the meaty remains of his prey off the bone. Right then and there he decides to have you, still picking meat from his teeth with the jagged edge of a bone. The next time he sees you you’ll be snatched up into his arms and dragged back to his nest, kicking and screaming left ignored as he unceremoniously dumps you in his nest and refuses to let you leave.  

I picture him most likely picking a human mate tbh, He enjoys being bigger and stronger than his mate, justifying the overbearing desire to hide away and protect what's his, something other Nagas wouldn’t tolerate. Even if you don’t tolerate it it doesn’t really matter, he is bigger and stronger than you, and can easily just pick you right up and carry you back to where he wants you to be. Biting, kicking, punching, anything just bounces off his hard scales. Honestly fighting like that is more likely to turn him on than anything else~ If you have this much energy you clearly can put it towards incubating some of his eggs right? Hopefully that fiery spirit will pass on to his eggs once they hatch~

He’ll also be curious, painfully so, eagerly twisting and pulling you in his hold like a doll, poking and prodding as he inspects you. Its not often he sees a human so close without eating them. He’s cruel in the sense that he likes to poke your squishy spots just to listen to your cute noises and watch you try and wiggle away from him. Its hardly ever malicious, though, the claws in your mouth, feeling up your teeth. Or large hands encompassing your entire calf as he feels up your leg is pure curiosity. He’ll look almost childish, eyes wide with wonder as he watches you twist and bend, so small and fragile yet so resilient.

He’ll hiss and throw up a fit if you call him out on this but he is also incredibly cuddly. Maybe it’s just because of that protective nature of his but he loves wrapping around you, snuggling his face into your stomach, tongue darting out to smell your skin. Or maybe it has something to do with the fact that you are a breathing furnace compared to the cooler blooded beast. He’s so soft in those moments, eagerly nuzzling you and lapping up any attention you’ll give him, even if he huffs and insists its for your protection and warmth if you say anything. Human skin is so thin and you are so needy for warmth! How did you ever survive without him curling around you to keep you warm and chase off the chill of the night air. You’d be wise to keep your mouth shut about the fact that he is actually sapping your heat with his cold skin. Best not take those rare tender moments for granted, yeah?

 Kirishima on the other hand leans more on the protective side of things. He’s younger than Bakugou, more on the naïve side of things and much more at the whims of his instincts. I think he’d honestly mate with the first little thing he comes across, unable to hold back and be patient at all. He’s a bit of a romantic at heart, in a terrifying, he’ll eat and swallow whoever you’re with whole when he sees you way. He wants nothing more than a happy loving mate, round and heavy with his eggs waiting for him when he comes back to his nest. He wants to protect and provide and snuggle with his cute little mate!

He’s brutal, eating and killing anything that comes close to you, and then immediately turning around and crooning and loving on you, rubbing up against you like a dog, his face still coated with any remains of what, or rather who, he just ate. (Lucky for you he prefers to swallow his prey whole…watching him gag up and spit out the bones that he cant digest isn’t a pleasant sight though.) Endlessly doting and so…incredibly suffocating. There will always be a hand, or head, or tail, or something pressed, wrapped, or snuggling against you. Half the time you feel like a living teddy bear as he cuddles and nuzzles you non stop, curling up in his nest and holding you close to his chest, face buried in your hair. The only time he tears himself from your side is to go hunting, and even then when he comes back you are scooped up and squished in his arms until he calms down again, extremely distressed from being separated from you.

 He is obsessed with being a good mate for you, protecting, providing, and spoiling his partner. He’ll be traditional, hunting down larger pray than necessary just to impress you. Happily puffing his chest out when he dumps a bunch of hay and leaves into the nest, telling you that he knows humans cant sleep on hard rock comfortably, and so this will be more comfy! (Not that it does much, with how close he insists on being when cuddling, you practically sleep on him instead. Trapped against his firm chest as arms wrap tightly around you). Now this isn’t common behavior for nagas, but he’ll also bring you pretty little trinkets that he finds, gems or geodes he finds in his cave, pretty jewelry he steals from humans, rocks that he really likes and wants to share with you. Reacting positively to these gifts, maybe even making a small little pile for them in the nest will put him over the moon. He becomes so gushy and loving towards you for it you can get away with nearly anything after that.  

Unlike Bakugou’s nest which is out in the open, daring any threat to even try and come close to his mate, Kiri hides you away. His nest will be hidden away in a maze like cave (He carved it out himself by hand! Something he very proudly tells you when the two of you can finally converse without you screaming or him fucking you silly). He never leaves your side, determined to protect and love you, but even in the moments he does, escape is hopeless. Even after crawling up the sides of the deep pit carved out of solid rock (you really don’t want to think how strong his claws are to carve out solid stone and made such deep grooves in the sides) you’ll be left wondering and aimless maze, impossible to not get lost or even get near the exit before Kirishima is back, rushing your side and picking you up into his arms in a panic. Naturally, being the innocent thing he is he assumes you missed him and went searching for him instead of trying to escape, but now you’re trapped in an even tighter hold under an even tighter watch as he tries “to make it up to you”.

With Kirishima you have a small chance, though. If you are loving and gentle enough to him, and you ask him so sweetly if you can get out of the cave just for a little bit! Promise! He may take you to a nearby river to play in the water, or a hotspring to soak together. Once you really have him wrapped around your finger you might be able to convince him to go on daily walks (slithers?) with him, only if you look sad and pout up at him enough, insisting that the cave is too dark and scary and you miss the sun. He’ll feel so bad he just might sunbathe with you outside for awhile too.

[melodyofmbaku]

In Between the Lines Chapter 2 (Erik Stevens x OC)

Teaser [1]

Prompt: “C'mon, I wanna hear you say it.”

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Angst... I can’t help it.

That was her problem.

Elloise couldn't see. So she liked to touch.

It was how she was able to experience the world. It was also the bane of Erik’s existence.

She was always fiddling & touching and it drove him right up the wall.

Didn't she know that some people would misinterpret her actions?

That’s exactly why he hung around her so much, she was entirely too trusting. And he didn't want someone with ill intentions to take advantage of her.

That’s what it was.

Not because he wanted her hands to be on him and him only.

Or because he wanted to see exactly what that mouth could do.

It was because she had a bleeding heart for every seemingly suffering individual and it would be her downfall.

That’s what it was.

As such he made it his mission to weave his way into her days because Elloise was one of the few people he actually liked around here.

He remembers the first time he met the woman who had ownership of his heart.

~~

It was 2 years ago when hehad just arrived at the palace. The place that was supposed to be his home. After he decided to work alongside T’Challa to better improve relations between Wakanda and the rest of the world it was decided.

He could learn more about his father, his birth place, and detach from his old hobby.

Killing people.

So when the young man approached him with a smile on his face and gesturing towards his gear he put a stop to it quick.

He still had some of his pieces on him and he didn’t want that getting messed with.

He rolled his eyes and mumbled an “nah I’m good boss” under his breath before walking around him.

The man began to follow him, looking intently at him with a confused look on his face.

“Do you need some help with your bags?” He gestured to his belongings once more.

“I’m good man.” He responded back again lowly. What was this dude’s problem?

Then he heard it. Her.

"Would you quit mumbling under your breath? If you have something to say, speak up, if not, you'd be better off shutting up".

He looked to the side and took in the woman who emerged from one of the many entrances that lead to the front hall.

She looked lithe and soft. She had dark skin and plump lips, wild coily hair, and a dress that accentuated her waist dangerously. Her cleavage was artfully on display and he was definitely taking a look.

This was the exact kind of woman he enjoyed whining, dining and bending over at the end of the night.

He would also probably do something wicked to that mouth…

He cocked his head and the corner of his lip lifted up in amusement.

“What you say ma?”

He watched as she walked towards him with intent and an odd aura of grace.

Interesting.

She stopped much too close to him.

"Erik... when you entered these grounds — the palace — my house — because that's what this is... my house — you consented to abiding to the rules of this household”.

"Some of which include forgoing your "I used to kill people for a living" vibe so that the differently abled individuals in the residence can comfortably get their jobs done".

What was she going on about? Differently abled?

She gestured to the young man who came to take his bags.

"James is hard of hearing. It helps that you speak clearly, and preferably facing him, so he can better assist you".

Erik turned to take him in. Then he saw it.

James smiled politely and gestured to the tiny hearing aid that was discreetly placed behind his ear.

Erik swallowed. He felt like a dick. He palmed the back of his neck.

"Nah uh... I'll carry my own weight." he responded after clearing his throat.

James nodded and looked back at the woman as if waiting for a command.

She turned to him "Thanks James, it seems like Mr. Stevens has it covered. You can go now."

The young man nodded and went on his was and Erik could’ve sworn he heard a snicker from him as he retreated. He glared at his retreating back.

"Can I touch you"? she asked tilting her head.

"What"? he asked confused.

She gestured toward his face. “Can I touch you? Your face specifically”. She repeated.

Erik squinted still trying to understand what exactly her problem was.

"Why the fu —". She never let him finish.

"We'll be spending a lot of time together now that you’re officially part of the royal family”.

“What’s that gotta do with you touching me?”.

"To save you further embarrassment, and a repeat scenario… in case you missed it Mr. Stevens... I'm blind". She pointed to her eyes to convey her point.

There was a moment of silence before Erik realized.

He wasn't sure how he missed it. He was getting comfortable and terribly out of practice.

She had done a very good job of presenting as normal as possible.

He ducked lower to her level to meet her eyes. True enough her deep brown eyes were unfocused and there seemed to be a gray film over them but they were brown nonetheless.

She repeated her question.

"Can I touch your face, so I know what you look like?” she gestured to him leaning forward invasively close.

“What if I say no”? He responded back defiantly. She wouldn’t catch him slipping twice.

“Then you say no”. she shrugged leaning back.

“I wouldn’t touch you without your consent, another one of our house rules that I hope you’ll remember”. She replied in a patronizing fashion.

He took offence.

“I’m a killer, not a rapist.” he spat out.

“That’s good to hear”. she commented before walking up the stairs encouraging him to follow.

“I’ll show you to your room, and it’s a pleasure to meet you Erik.”

And that was the beginning of their relationship.

~~

He idled about and nursed a drink in his hands and tried to look the least bit engaged at this donor dinner. He hated these dinners.

He’d have to watch Elloise on his cousins arm the entire night. Not to forget the attendees who were there for selfish political gain alone.

He watched closely as she made the rounds with T’challa around the room. She had chosen a deep green dress with a dangerous V that held his attention throughout the night.

T’challa paraded her around the room like the gift she was and he knew this was the part of him she fell in love with.

That’s why he was surprised to find her alone and still dressed to the nines in the palace kitchen in the middle of the night.

He had changed into his comfortable sweats and made his way over to decide on which concoction of alcohol would knock him out for the night.

She had a plate of lamb and potatoes untouched in front of her.

She didn’t startle when he spoke. She probably knew he was here based on his cologne or possibly just heard him when he came in.

“Midnight snack?” He paused and sat in the seat across from her.

“I got the chef to make me something then sent him away.” She spoke clearly. He heard the hardness in her voice.

She was upset.

He saw that the lamb sat on the play uncut and her hands lay in her lap.

“Let me get some of that.”He reached over for the plate and she stopped him.

“Erik. I like lamb.” She held onto the plate refusing to let up.

He sighed.

“Here, I got it.” He stretched his hands for the cutlery.

“I can do it myself.” She protested eyebrows furrowing.

“I know that.”

She still held onto the fork with hostility. She was upset.

“I like doing this so relax okay? You know it’s not like that.” he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and awaited her answer.

With that she reluctantly released the cutlery to him and folded her hands in her lap carefully.

She heard the fork and knife scrape against the plate as Erik cut it into pieces. She couldn't help but inhale a little bit deeper.

She liked the way he smelled. Erik always smelled like warmth..

She didn't know what to do with her hands. They were always doing something. Touching, feeling, studying, working.

She tried so hard to not be caught lacking, to be looked at as unable.

She would always have an excuse, because of her condition, but she pushed herself to insane lengths to never have to use it.

With Erik she was able to relax without being scrutinized, when it was just the two of them it was different.

This was... nice. She liked it.

"Potatoes too?" he asked wondering if he should slice up the baby potatoes that accompanied the lamb on her plate.

She shook her head — negative, she liked them whole.

"Thank you". she replied back softly.

"Don't mention it". He responded before carefully handing the fork back to her.

Her fingers lingered on his hand a moment before she pulled them away seemingly unaware.

Erik lived for moments like these.

He watched attentively as she speared the tender meat and placed it in her mouth and began to chew.

“Where’s T? Why isn’t he here with you right now?” He was sure he’d be tearing it up tonight. She looked that damn good.

She paused and looked down. “He… got called away for an emergency.”

They both knew what that meant. Erik wanted blood.

“You can’t let him get away with disrespecting you like this El. Tell somebody. The elders. Anybody.” He urged with subdued rage.

“Would they blame him? Or would his actions be chalked up to something else?” She shifted in her seat.

“Maybe how in more than one way I’m not enough.” She placed another piece of meat into her mouth and chewed slowly.

Despite the hot anger that flowed through his veins, he knew it was the truth.

He hated that it was the truth.

He despised his cousin for taking that vulnerable woman and turning her into this.

He was going to end him.

They weren’t that close anyways.

He could see it now.

He’d start from his left hip bone and do a clean cut — probably with something classic. Like a black pearl switchblade. Then he’d —

“You can’t say anything Erik.” she commanded. It was if she heard him plotting.

He scoffed.

“It’s not your right.” She said.

Her mouth was sharp as ever.

He hated that mouth.

He dreamed of that mouth.

He was the forgotten cousin. An honorary royal. Offered a position for blood ties and even then, it was decorative.

An outcast.

Maybe that’s why they got along so well.

She placed another potato between her lips.

He rose from his seat and stood behind her.

He began to remove the large decorated pins from her pressed hair. His fingers reached the nape of her neck and she finally released the tension that her body held.

“I didn’t say I was going to do anything.” He spoke lowly above her, focused on the task at hand.

She leaned into his hand and he snuck his fingers into her hair and found her scalp.

He rubbed at it gently, product would cling to his fingers later but he didn’t mind it.

“We’re the same you and I.” She hummed.

He cocked his head and continued his task.

He never understood her when she said that. But in fear of being scolded he kept quiet.

She was good. So good. He was bad bad bad.

He felt her shuffle to rise and he stopped his actions unwillingly.

She sat up and he reluctantly removed his fingers from her head.

She ran her palms down her dress to straighten it out before she looked in his direction.

“You’re harmless. ” She joked lightly before lifting her hand awaiting his arm to lead her back to her room.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Girl, you should be scared of me.” He murmured slyly.

She rolled her eyes.

He offered her his arm and she grasped it in a familiar fashion and let him lead her.

They walked leisurely through the hallways. When he didn’t get a response to his last statement he assumed his previous joke fell flat.

“Erik, when are you gonna go?” She asked softly. Her fingers added more pressure into his arms, concern lacing her tone.

She’s been pestering him for months to go to therapy — deal with his murderous thoughts.

He didn’t like the idea.

So he wasn’t going to do it.

“I’ll go when you go.” He shot back.

She sniffed and turned her face away from him.

He grinned cheekily, dimples shining through.

“You know why I can’t go. It’d be taboo for me. Plus, they treat me like an invalid.” he watched her mouth twist into a scowl.

He scoffed, and continued to lead them to her destination.

Their route was coming to an end and he knew she felt it.

As they got closer and closer to her quarters her grip tightened on his bicep. And he paused.

“Erik I’m scared.” she whispered.

“If he can do this. Openly. In our room. In our bed, then...”

“What’s next? What’s next for me?“ she looked in his direction — lost.

“If he don’t got you, I got you.” He crowded her space and bent down so he could be level with her.

She needed to understand that she could rely on him for anything. He wasn’t sure he knew just how deep his feelings went for her.

She lifted her hands to hold his face. It was how she saw. Her hands immediately found his beard. He saw the tears pool in the corner of her eyes.

“Anytime you get scared you call me. You hear me?”

Her gaze was downcast. This wouldn’t do.

“I’ll gut em. Like fishes. The whole lotta them.” He pushed out huskily.

“Erik...” she murmured disapprovingly.

“You believe me?” He asked.

“I —“

“C'mon, I wanna hear you say it.” He pushed lowly committed to making her see that she wasn’t alone, he was there.

“Yes Erik, I believe you.” She whispered lowly. She quickly wiped the tears that had slid down her face disobediently.

“Good.”

“Goodnight E.” She stepped back and turned to her door. He watched as she steadied herself.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets to stop himself from grabbing her and crushing her in his embrace.

He wanted to grab her and kiss away her fears.

Instead he subdued his wants and watched her walk through her door.

The door to the room she shared with T’Challa.

He spun around and began the familiar path back to the kitchen.

After knocking back the drink of the night he steadied himself.

Erik walked to his chambers in the same manner he did every night — longing for his cousin's wife.

Taglist:

@fd-writes @amorestevens @raysunshine78 @adreamsublime

__

Idek what I’m even doing with this story but lmk what you think 💜

If you want to be added to the taglist just comment.

[mrsalwayswrite]

Magic and Firelight (Ivar x reader)

Oh God. you know how I said I never write smut....apparently I lied. I blame this entire thing on @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom​ and @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie​ for encouraging this. All. Their. Faults. 

This one-shot was inspired by the moodboard created by the ever-lovely @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom​ for a challenge. In the challenge she had to use Ivar, MagicAU and Licking....so I made sure to incorporate those themes into this written one-shot.  

Also this does not fit anywhere in the Vikings timeline because I want everyone alive and marginally happy, ok? So everyone lives in Kattegat but think season 5a Ivar. 

Warnings: SMUT, unexpected feels, like one swear word. 

Words: 4200

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius​ @evelynshelby​ @pomegranates-and-blood​ 

reminder: not my moodboard. this entire, glorious thing belongs to @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom​ who was kind enough to let me use it.

  Revelry filled the air, coating everything in the Great Hall like a fresh snowfall. The feast was well underway. The smell of roasted meat and ale rose steadily into the air, along with the laughter and cheers of those still in attendance. A contest of strength just finished, the loser ending up with blood dripping from his nose, tainting his teeth, as he laughed uproariously. 

 A joyous shout shot through the hall. The signal of the next form of entertainment. Fists pounded on the tables in delight, a few exclamations arising amongst the sound. All noise ceased when a slow drumbeat began, like the echo of a steady heart. It sunk into the skin, traveling to the chest until one's heartbeat matched in echo. 

 Ivar shifted in his seat near the base of the thrones. They both sat empty behind him, his mother having retired long ago, and Ragnar at a nearby table with Floki and a few others, laughing with a flushed face and ale horn in hand. Glancing around his table, he could see the wild excitement in his brothers' eyes…. for they all knew what came next. 

 As the drumbeat started to increase, the first of the swirling dancers emerged. Their bodies covered in thin fabric that teased as much as it covered, leaving one longing for a glimpse only to be denied as she continued her provocative movements. The six beautiful women moved through the tables like swans gliding through water, each step, each sway of their hips graceful and in tune with the beat.

 "Who are they?" Ivar asked gruffly. These women were not the normal entertainment at a feast. Nor did he did not recognize any of them. 

 "They came with a trader from the Mediterranean." Ubbe answered, never removing his eyes from the dancers. "He petitioned with father yesterday to allow them the chance to entertain us in the way of their people…. or something along those lines."

 "Remind me to ask that trader where they are specifically from, because I know where I am going to explore next." Hvitserk stated with a smirk. 

 Ubbe bumped shoulders with Hvitserk, an unspoken agreement in the action. 

 Ivar rolled his eyes at their antics and turned his gaze back to the dancers…. Only to freeze when one locked eyes with him. 

 She stood across the fire, the flames appeared to lick and dance upon her skin. Every curve, each dip of her luxurious body highlighted in the flickering light. Her hair hung long, swaying with each movement, its own form of enticement. It was those eyes though, that held him spellbound to her. Large, luminous orbs that seemed to peer into his soul, that stole the very breath from his lungs. All he could do was stare as she danced. Each movement was pure elegance and seduction. The whole time those mesmerizing eyes kept him spellbound, oblivious to all but her. With her eyes locked on him, it felt she danced only for him. Each twirl of her body, each shake of her barely clad hips, her hands tracing patterns in the air, it all felt like a dance to entrance him. To maintain his attention. To rile up his blood and desire for her. To make him yearn for her with his whole body and soul. 

 When she finally released him from her gaze to spin away, he gasped in a lungful of air. Not realizing until now how he had forgotten to breathe while watching her, so enthralled by her, even air became unnecessary. 

 "You alright, Ivar?"

 The raven-haired Ragnarsson looked at Hvitserk, noticing the smile that teased the corners of his mouth. 

 "This is the closest he's seen a naked woman besides Margrethe and we all know how that went." Sigurd snarked, bringing his cup of ale to his lips. 

 "Shut up before I rip your tongue out and feed it to the flames." He snarled at his curly-haired brother. Fury stirred in the hollow of his chest like a wild animal threatening to tear apart its cage. 

 Ubbe smacked the table. "Enough. Both of you."

 The table quieted as their focus returned to the dancers. Eyes searching the hall, a slow-growing panic simmered in Ivar's gut as he could not see her. The other five dancers spun and twirled about, their bodies an example of art in motion. 

 Without warning, the gentle touch of a hand on his shoulder caused his head to whip to the side, ready to demand blood from the one with the audacity to touch him…. Only to be met with those eyes that made him flustered and hot all over. 

 With her touches tender, she trailed her hand from his shoulder up his neck to cup the side of his face. Even if the need arose, he would be unable to remove himself from her sensual touch and her penetrating gaze, bewitched by her to remain still. Never before had he felt so exposed to someone. Even the times when he broke bones and had to be carried like a child, humiliation ripping into his skin. Now he felt undone as she beheld him, consumed by her with just a look. If the other dancers were art, then she, this divine beauty beside him, was a masterpiece, crafted by the gods themselves.

 Waves of jealousy rolled off his brothers, crashing against him like stormy waves on a beach but for once, he did not care. His eyes stayed glued to her, hypnotized by her very presence. 

 Suddenly he found himself facing her, unable to remember when he turned away from the table. She stood between his brace-clad legs, gazing down at him. Her fingers traced over his cheek, only to land at his mouth. Her thumb rubbed his bottom lip, encouraging his lips to part. Unable to resist her, he obliged, lips parting slightly. She made no further move, either to draw away or closer. His heart beat rapidly with excitement and mischief. A streak of wicked intent made his lips curl slightly, giving him away. His leather-bound hands reached out for her thighs; the soft skin almost foreign beneath his calloused-hardened fingers. In the same instant, he nipped at her thumb, still lingering on his bottom lip. Then he waited for her reaction with an impish smirk.  

 She chuckled, a sultry, honeyed sound that flowed straight to his useless cock and made him shiver in delight. 

 Never removing her eyes from his, she reached down to grab one of his hands on her exposed thighs. Then torturously slow, she guided it up the contours of her body, his hand caressing her hip, up her stomach and between her full breasts until his hand was at her mouth. Without waiting, she encouraged two of his fingers within. As her tongue swiped and sucked on his fingers like they were a tasty treat, Ivar lost all ability to think or resist. His hand still on her, gripped her thigh to ground himself, to confirm this was not a dream. 

 Women never paid attention to him, never looked at him with lust. After the latest raid in England where he proved his prowess in strategy and as a warrior, less women looked at him with disgust.

 But never this. 

 Never had one put him under a spell that made him want to sell his soul to possess her. Never had he seen desire darken a woman's eyes as they beheld him. Never had his own body and mind reacted with such a carnal, animalistic instinct. 

 He pulled his fingers from her mouth and dropped his hand to curl around her throat with just the slightest pressure. "Are you a thrall?"

 "No." She answered in a breathy tone, that only intensified his growing lust. Then she leaned closer, her lips brushing his ear, those barely contained breasts almost in his face. "Do with me what you want, Ivar the Boneless. I am yours tonight."

 Whatever previous desire bubbled in his veins exploded at hearing her alluring whisper. A guttural groan lodged in his throat. The hunger for her reached an all-consuming, feverish pitch. Without a word, he pushed himself to his feet, slipping the crutch under his arm. "Come."

 He half expected her to laugh and walk away but instead, she traced a hand down the tunic over his torso with a purr of pleasure. Then when she looked up at him coyly once more, he was halfway to throwing her onto the table behind him to ravish her right there. 

 She silently followed him back to his room. The whole walk his mind raged, both in desire and fear. He knew he could not pleasure her as a man but this ethereal creature that followed him deserved to be worshipped. And she had chosen him tonight. Out of all those in the hall, including his brothers…. she chose him. 

 He vowed to make sure she did not regret it. 

 He dismissed his personal thrall as they walked in, pleased to see the fire lit in the small hearth and furs laid out before it. The door closed, echoing in the room. Once alone, he moved over to sit on a nearby stool, leaning his crutch on the wall behind him. 

 She watched the fire, standing in the middle of his room. Her clothing appeared almost translucent in this light, a way of directing and guiding the eye along her perfect body. 

 "Take off your clothes." He commanded in a husky tone. 

 With a seductive wink back at him, she tugged on the few ties keeping the minimal clothing on her flawless body. In a moment, everything pooled at her feet….and he damn near swallowed his tongue. Bare before him, he was convinced there was nothing more stunning, more gorgeous than her. She put every sunset to shame, every spring flower, every star to grace the night sky, nothing could ever compare to her. 

 "Dance for me, my beauty." 

 A beguiling smile on her lips, she watched him for a moment. Then she began to move. A slow sway of her hips, hands trailing up her body to rise above her head. 

 There was no force that could tear his gaze away from her. When she danced in the Great Hall, he had been memorized…. but now, it would be sinful to remove his eyes from her graceful form. The circular motion of her hips, her hands tracing the curves of her body, the heavy-lidded eyes that watched him. He wanted nothing more than to sit at her feet for eternity and watch her dance. To worship at her altar and bestow her with gifts from the Aesir. 

 Then she began to spin slowly, allowing him to see all of her, a music leading her that only she was aware of. At one point, she squatted down and slowly rose, only to snap her hips up in a way that made him audibly growl. His hands were clenched in his lap, desperate to touch her, to replace her hands with his as they caressed her body. 

 Finally he could stand it no longer, this enchanting, sensual dance that made his blood boil ceaselessly with desire. 

 He swallowed thickly, mouth dry. "Go by the fire." He demanded. 

 If she was confused by his command, she said nothing. Turning around she sashayed over to the furs laid in front of the small hearth in his room. His eyes greedily drunk in the curves of her body as she moved. She laid down on the pile of furs before the hearth, unashamed in her nudity. With the colors of the flames and shadows painted across her body, she appeared ethereal. Something only for the gods to view. Perfection at its purest form.

 Sitting on the stool, he quickly worked the straps of his braces, never taking his eyes off her. Unwilling to miss her glory for even a moment. She laid on her side, gaze on him. One hand propped her head up while the other skimmed those curves highlighted by the flames. 

 Once freed, he crawled over to her like the predator he was. Hunger and domination with each placement of his hands and shift of his shoulders. There was no doubt who was in control. His fierce gaze never removed from her, keeping her pinned with the same strength as if ropes held her down. As he approached, she silently rolled onto her back, an intensity in those eyes as they watched him and a kittenish smile on her lips. With that, he crawled up her body until he hovered over her, blanketing her perfect form. Then he waited. Staring down at her, he was shocked once again that she chose him. That she currently lay beneath, pliant to his touch and commands. It was a powerful and dark sensation. To have this control, this power over her….to have her at his mercy. A more rapturous feeling than killing Christian priests or obliterating any army. 

 "Ivar…." She sighed out, tracing the line of his jaw with her finger. "Don't keep me waiting."

 A crooked grin grew on his face. Here lay this Valkyrie, this goddess, this divine creature beneath him, begging for him. Without wasting a moment, his mouth descended on her skin, his arms holding himself just above her. He placed open-mouth kisses along her chest, loving the soft sounds of pleasure it drew from her. His tongue traced the curve of her breasts, paying special attention to the tattoo of a flower between them. Suddenly he drew one of her nipples into his mouth, causing her back to arch. Her hand flew up to grip his braids, as he sucked and licked the bud until it was hard and peaked, then he switched to the other side to repeat his ministrations. 

 "Ivar…." She moaned, tugging on his braids, hips rolling beneath them. 

 "Shhhh…. soon." He nipped at the side of her breast, pleased with the heat that flared in her eyes. "We go at my pace…. and I plan on taking my time."

 Slowly he slithered his way down her body, his tongue leading the way over her soft skin. There was nowhere he did not worship with his mouth, nowhere safe that his tongue did not covetously explore. By the time he was done with her, his mouth and tongue intimately knew every inch of her and the erotic sounds those spots drew from her lips. With a long swipe of his tongue starting at her sternum, he trailed it down between her breasts to her belly only to end at the top of her womanhood. 

 He glanced up from between her legs, the scent of her arousal a beacon for him to follow. She laid there, bathed in flames, coated in his saliva, chest rising and falling like the waves of the seas, with her eyes closed and mouth partly open. Never had he witnessed anything more magnificent. 

 "Still with me, my beauty?"

 Her eyes fluttered open to peek at him, a tantalizing smile on her lips. "Always."

 With that, he dove into her. His mouth feasted on the juices coming from her womanhood. It was nothing like he expected. She tasted sweeter than honey, stronger than ale. He continued to lap and lick her, wanting more, needing more of her taste. For he swore, this was the nectar of the gods. A sweet ambrosia not meant for mortal men. 

 Her cries of pleasure doubled his resolve to ravish her with his tongue. To bring her such pleasure that she would always remember him. He flicked at her clit with his tongue, watching her keen to the ceiling above. Her hips rolled as he sucked at her folds with reckless abandon. 

 Each mewl and cry from her mouth, made him feel like a god. Each chanting of his name seemed to strengthen his body to continue. Even as he laid on the floor, propped up on his elbows, her legs over his shoulders, he felt no pain. As if her ecstasy flowed back into him. Instead of the constant ache of pain from his legs that clawed at his mind ceaselessly, for once it was silenced. All he was aware of…. was her. As if she invaded his body and possessed his mind. 

 If he was to die now, with her cries of pleasure filling his ears, he knew Odin would still allow him into Valhalla. For to bring this celestial being pleasure must be akin to the glory of battle. His blood roared in his ears, forcing him to continue, desperate for more. Her taste on his tongue was a craving he never knew he had until now. In the cradle of her thighs was his new favorite place to exist. 

 When she peaked, when her pleasure overwhelmed her and his name was screamed into the very heavens above, he greedily ate away at her, drinking everything down and still yearning for more. He licked at her womanhood through the aftershocks, her taste and scent all his senses wanted to know. 

 Once satisfied, he peered up at her, expecting to see her blissed-out, eyes closed and immobile. Instead what he witnessed made him freeze, unable to move.

 She observed him with eyes that glowed like two full moons on the darkest of nights. 

 Where once he had been the predator, intent on devouring her, adamant to possess her…. now he understood. He was the prey. He was the one caught in the spider's web. He was the one now owned by her alone. Those glowing eyes entranced him, preventing him from looking away, sealing his mouth shut to call out. Unable to do anything but gawk at her in a bewildered, longing awe. 

 Slowly she leaned up, staring at him. He could not remember moving. All his mind could fathom were those eyes…. those glowing orbs that he swore had seen Valhalla, that galaxies swirled amidst, that stole his soul and branded her mark on him. When he next blinked, he was sitting, with her straddling his lap, in all her exquisite, naked glory. Her eyes beheld him with softness, her hands a gentle weight on his shoulders, even her bare breasts pressed against his chest, all of it alluded a power that could only be answered with reverence. 

 "Who…. are you?" He stuttered out. 

 She smiled; a captivating thing that made him want to worship her again but also sink his teeth into her bottom lip. "I have been called many things throughout my life. But tonight, those names do not matter. Tonight, I am simply y/n…. Tonight, I am here for you."

 "Y/n?"

 She purred as if the name stoked a fire within her. "Yes, my valiant warrior." Her hand tangled in his braids again, almost guiding his head to the side as her plump lips skimmed his jawline. "I have heard your prayers, seen your cries. I cannot give you your legs but I will give you what I can."

 A quake raced up his spine. "What?"

 "Shhhh…. surrender to me." 

 Hesitantly, she pressed her lips to his, as if giving him time to pull away. Instead, he felt a jolt shoot through him. He groaned, opening his mouth, allowing her to take control. He had thought her taste as he lapped greedily at her core was ambrosia, but her mouth…. oh, the taste of her mouth was both death and life combined. Something so intoxicating and potent, it stole the very breath from his lungs while a vitality bleed into his veins simultaneously.  Her mouth held him prisoner, a melding of their lips and tongues that scorched him in every way deliciously possible. 

 "Do you feel it?" She whispered, before delving into his mouth again with an even greater need. 

 And he did. By this point, his legs should be screaming at him, especially with her weight on his thighs. Instead there was no pain, no ache. Only blissful tingles danced on his nerves and a fire stirred in his belly. 

 He wrenched his mouth from hers, eyes wide and panting as he gawked at her. 

 "I cannot heal you," she quietly said, eyes still glowing, "but I can take some of your pain in exchange for the pleasure you gave me."

 Unexpected tears welled in his eyes. Pain, his constant companion since birth, now was barely a blip on his mental radar. He dropped his head to her chest, overwhelmed by the lessened pain and bliss coursing through his veins. As he thought about it, as he feasted on her, every lick, every caress of his tongue against her, pain drained from his body like slow droplets of water. It was only now he noticed, so caught up in her exquisite taste, that he easily could become drunk on and never wish to be sober again. 

 She spoke against his ear, authority and power ringing in each word. "Hear my words, Ivar the Boneless. Your fame will live on for generations. You will not be forgotten, in this life or the next. This is my final gift that I give you."

 She drew his face back to hers, pressing her lips to his in a fiery, desperate kiss. Her words, her touch, her taste, everything felt seared into the very marrow of his bones. A burst of white light and ecstasy flooded through him, making him wonder for a second if he died. 

 When he opened his eyes, mind hazy as if intoxicated, it was to find himself alone. Frantic, he looked around. Yet there was nothing to show of her presence. Not even her discarded clothes lay on the floor anymore. 

 "No….no, no, no." He mumbled, refusing to believe she was gone…. but there was no denying the truth. Yet even as he sat there, tears still slipping down his cheeks, he could feel her presence with the absence of pain. He could still taste her on his tongue. Strength and vitality flowed through his crippled body in ways he had never felt before. 

 He was unsure how long he sat there before a quick knock on his door interrupted his thoughts. It opened to reveal Hvitserk who cautiously stepped in, eyes scanning the room. 

 "You alright, brother?"

 Ivar wondered at the stupid question then realized he must be referring to the evidence of tears still staining his cheeks. Hastily he wiped them away on his sleeve. "What are you doing here?"

 "We thought we heard something…. I came to check on you." He tilted his head and scanned the room once again. "Where is she?"

 Ivar turned his face to the fire, without answering. How could he explain all that just occurred without sounding mad? That a glorious being chose him, used him for her pleasure and then gave him priceless gifts. No, no one would believe that. This was a memory, a present for him alone to cherish. 

 "You know if you need advice with pleasuring a woman, I am more than willing to help. They do call me the love guru." Hvitserk chuckled but immediately silenced at the stony glare Ivar sent his way. "Um, right. Well, I'll head back out." He started to walk away but stopped at Ivar's call. 

 "Wait!" When Hvitserk turned back around, Ivar swallowed thickly then continued. "What…. what color are my eyes?"

 The flaxen-haired brother moved closer. "Um, blue…. a vibrant blue…. they almost look like they are glowing but with a veil over them. I've never seen them like that before. Are you feeling alright? Do you want help getting to your bed?"

 Ivar smiled longingly, his chest squeezing at his brother's words. "No….no, I feel… I feel great, Hvitty."

 "Um, sure. Do you need anything?"

 "No, you can go back out to the feast."

 "Okay, good night, Ivar."

 Ivar did not answer, only just hearing the door closing as turned back to face the dancing flames. His mind drifted to thinking about her, his beauty. 

 Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something nestled between the furs. Carefully he maneuvered himself over to gently grab it, curiosity pushing him forward despite caution. Cradling it in his hand like a priceless treasure, he now could see what it was; a pendant, only the size of his thumb, but it was in the color and shape of a full moon and an etching that matched the tattoo of the flower between her breasts. 

 "Y/n." He whispered, as if prompted by something to say her name. To his surprise, the pendant glowed faintly for a moment, so reminiscent of her eyes before dulling back. 

 "Thank you." He slipped his necklace off with Thor's hammer and added the pendant. Once back on his neck, he lifted the pendant and kissed it, only to stifle a moan as the faintest hints of her taste tingled on his lips. 

 Feeling euphoric, he laid back on the pile of furs, pressing the pendant to his lips. He closed his eyes, trying to remember every moment with her. He prayed that he could see her once again, either in this life or in Valhalla. For he knew, there would never be another like her. He had no idea who or what she was, only the name she gave him. A name that would be branded upon his heart and soul for all eternity. 

[unwanted-animal]

Matt/Frank : T E E T H

Explicit. M/M.

Tags/CW: Teeth, Mouth Likely, Consensual Torture, Blood, Tooth Trauma, Dark, Romance, Don/sub, Rutting, Coming In Pants, Bloody Kisses, Please Do Not Let Matt Murdock Perform Oral Surgery On You

My gifts for @lovetincture for this year’s @daredevilexchange :D The prompt I chose to roll with was “Romantic Teeth Trauma”, and it lit a spark inside me! Which is why my gift is two moodboards, a playlist, AND a fic lol

AO3 for the playlist and Alt Text (will be live when the collection opens!)

“Are you sure about this, Frank?”

Matt crouched in front of the chair, head tilted to the side as he listened for any changes in Frank. His breathing. His heart rate. His tone. If there was any sign he wasn’t confident about his request, Matt planned to stop. Frank liked pain, sure, but this? This was beyond normal pain.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure, Red. Only you. Anyone else I wouldn’t think about it, but you? You get me. I, I trust you. Y’know?”

“And you want no anesthesia?”

“None.”

No change. Even breathing. Steady heart rate. Frank was out of his goddamn mind, letting a blind man cut out one of his teeth. The thought brought a smile to Matt’s lips. Frank was mad, but that madness, that dedication to seeing things through, that only endeared him to him. He patted Frank’s leg gently and stood up.

“Okay. Can you reach the tools, push them toward me? Please?”

The rattle of metal filled his senses, making the room feel full and featureless. Matt groaned and shook his head to clear the cloud stifling his ‘sight’. Once the tray stopped, his access to the space returned. Deep shades of red, sparked by changes in the environment, that let him see - in a sense.

His world on fire.

Frank burned brightly in his special sense. Rugged, body made of valleys and hills and broken roads, sound made him shine. And Frank? Frank shone the loudest when he screamed.

Matt placed one hand on the handle of the cart. The other hovered over the tools.

“Scalpel,” he said softly.

“Four inches to your left. Blade facing away from you.”

He followed Frank’s instructions and lifted the surgical knife from the cloth. It was cool in his grasp, the handle weighted and the blade light and sharp enough to cut through muscle and tendon. Matt let out a slow breath. His hands were steady — no tremor. No fear.

Just a blind man performing intimate oral surgery.

“Once I’m in your mouth you won’t be able to instruct me, so if there’s anything you need to say to me, Frank? Now’s the time.”

Something about Frank’s gaze, Matt could always feel . He stared at him now , and from the way his pulse quickened he knew it was affectionate. Tender. He’d seen that look once, when the sirens lit the graveyard after the Irish. That hangdog, loving look in Frank’s sad eyes turned to him now, and he was certain there was a hint of madness to it. Of thrill. Frank wanted this. Hell, it’d been his idea.

“Yeah. Yeah, I got somethin’. Yeah. Matt?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t fuck it up,” Frank teased. “I love you.”

Matt smirked.

“I know. Open up for me.”

Frank opened his mouth, as wide as he could. His wrists tugged against the handcuffs holding them to the legs of the chair, the rattle reassuring. Frank wouldn’t get out if the pain was too great, which meant Matt wouldn’t wind up with a fist in his face when he dug into the root. It was a precaution, sure, but he had to admit he liked Frank tied up.

At his mercy .

Matt slipped two fingers inside his waiting mouth and slid them along his tongue. Frank shuddered, gagging slightly as he pressed down. Drool pooled around his hand and ran down, down the curve of his chin, spattering on his bare chest. Matt felt the wetness and smiled down at Frank.

“I bet you can do better than that.”

He lifted the scalpel and guided his fingers up. Picking a molar was the hard part. Humming, Matt tapped between three of them, whispering that familiar mantra.

“One batch. Two batch. Penny and dime — Ah. This one.”

The back molar. One Frank wouldn’t even know was missing.

“Here we go, Frank.”

All he got was a huff of a growl in response.

Matt pressed the blade into the soft meat of Frank’s gum. Blood welled from the wound, mixing with the drool, and Matt wished he could see it. The ecstatic look of agony carved into Frank’s Roman features, the mess he made, the wild rush burning in his eyes… He cut again. Again. Tracing the tooth. Beneath him, Frank snarled and roared.

“That’s right. Like that. Make noise, nobody will hear you here. Nobody but me.”

His noise made it easier for Matt to see what he was doing. Vibrations traveled through his mouth, and the loose skin he sliced through swayed from side to side. Soon he had most of the tooth exposed, the gums cut and peeled back with careful - if amateur - care. Frank pulled against the cuffs and rocked the chair as his fingers touched the wound, but Matt didn’t stop.

Frank had had plenty of time to revoke consent before. He didn’t. His fingers weren’t tapping out his safeword on the wood. Frank loved being out of control, submitting to Matt in such a deep, intimate way. Pain, even the extreme kind, wasn’t foreign to their relationship nor their sex.

This, this was dedication. A declaration. One far more beautiful than any other words or gestures could be.

Matt used Frank’s moans to find the forceps. He traded out his scalpel for the pointed steel, clicking them together a few times as Frank simply sat there shaking. His lips trembled, but he kept his mouth open to the cool air.

A good dog. Loyal. Obedient.

He guided the new tool inside, easily finding his way back. The blood dripping on his knuckles couldn’t be missed. Matt’s forceps closed around the tooth and he began to pry. Grunting, he pumped his arm, moving the bone in its tight little socket. Frank roared in pain, hips coming up and rubbing against Matt’s thigh.

He was hard, hard enough that the brief touch sent a shiver down Frank’s spine. Matt grinned, his dimples deep as he pressed his thigh back in response.

“Rut. Like a dog. I wouldn’t want to leave you all worked up, not when you’re behaving for me. Go on. Consider it a reward. A treat, Frank.”

Frank didn’t hesitate. He started thrusting against Matt, breathing hard through his nose as his cock strained against his jeans. A low moan vibrated in his throat as Matt yanked again, pulling, fighting to get the tooth free of his jaw. Frank screamed around his hands, tears flowing down his cheeks, and Matt’s world burst with vivid red color. He could see Frank. See the blood. See the wide-eyed and hungry stare Frank fixed on him. He was a beacon at the center of Matt’s world, pulsing with every shuddering sob.

“Beautiful,” he said, voice low and soft. “You make the world so beautiful .”

A loud crack split the air. Another. Another, as Matt leveraged his strength to force it out. With one last tug it snapped free of Frank’s jaw, clutched firmly in the forceps. Frank slammed his hips forward as he came, eyes rolling back in his head as that final surge of pain pushed him over the edge. Matt stumbled backward and held the tooth up triumphantly. His prize. His token.

While Frank’s sounds grew quiet, Matt’s vision faded back to darkness. He couldn’t see the sloppy smile on Frank’s face as he drooled blood onto his bare chest.

“… That,” Frank slurred, barely able to move his jaw. His words were mumbled, accompanied by dribbling blood. “Is yours. Yeah. Gonna take it to, to, to your guy. Drill a hole, get a chain. Wear it. Always.”

Matt released the tooth into his hand and ran his bloody thumb over the bone.

Frank’s bone.

A piece of him, to keep forever.

“… I love you, Frank. You know that?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. I, I love you too.”

He slipped the tooth into his pocket and lowered himself down on Frank’s filthy lap. His hands were just as messy, bloodied up almost to the elbow from Frank’s coughing and screaming. He slid one through Frank’s curls and tugged him into a rough, heated kiss. Blood filled his mouth, and Matt let it. He savored the taste of Frank. It was no different from kissing him with a split lip.

Except this time he could swallow the mess.

[the-wolf-who-kissed-the-moon]

• Lady Dimitrescu x female reader 💋

• Warnings ⚠️ : graphic depictions of violence, gore, blood, very strong horror elements, Stockholm Syndrome, mental anguish, character death.

glass angel, part XV.

Smoke took the shape of vile specters as it floated around your groggy head. Through its gray veil, brilliant yellow eyes peered at you with inhuman hunger whilst large drops of murky blood oozed from grinning mouths. Dark, tar-like lips would lean close, murmuring bone-chilling threats which you never truly deciphered. Your body felt sedated, heavy like lead, your voice muted as if you were trapped in a lucid nightmare.

To your distress, this wasn’t a dream.

Satin fingers caressed your navel lovingly, instantly drawing your attention to the woman of your heart's desire. Her features were so alluring in their wickedness, you’d fall for her again, had it not been for the palpable fear making your teeth chatter. You pushed your knees closed defiantly, struggling to free your arms from the daughters’ ruthless grips. Behind you, their sickening breaths of joy were like violent daggers, stabbing the back of your head, deafening and painful. You’ve heard those shrills late at night, in your dreams, even in the brightest hours of the day –

Play with us,

Come out, come out!

You managed to run and slip through their murderous fingers, only to end up caught in the web of their equally devilish mother.

“.. wh… why?...why-"

A quiet sob left you. Anguished tears threatened to spill from the corners of your eyes as you watched the graceful matriarch. Your heart shattered at the realization that she was the monster slithering behind the walls in the dark, moving beneath the bedsheets and stalking you from every haunted corner. She was the embodiment of your night terrors, and so very cruel for playing the part of a caring, gentle woman by day.

Alcina’s perfect countenance was void of emotion as she, almost tenderly, caressed the soft dips and curves of your chest. Her touch was agonizing as it neared your heart, strange and unfamiliar against your feverish skin. You could’ve sworn you caught a glimpse of regret in her beautiful eyes when she met your terrified look. The lady of the castle was a true enigma, one which you’ve never had the chance to unravel. Her cigarette died with a final inhale, and through the thick cloud of nicotine, her bewitching gaze flickered with carnivorous lust.

A smaller, vicious hand smacked over your lips, holding your head down when you begun to shake violently. Your throat swelled with involuntary screams as your legs were forced apart and pinned to the torture table, powerless. You tried to bite into the palm that muffled your panicked cries, yet your mouth filled with large, crawling bugs. Appalled, you struggled to spit the insects out and soothe your air-deprived lungs. A heavy taste of rot and blood melted the sweetness of your mouth, leaving you to choke on a deep feeling of disgust. Heavy swarms of buzzing flies suddenly flooded the ceiling, taking the lights out and throwing you in an endless pit of despair.

I don’t want to die… I don’t want to die…

You clenched your teeth painfully tight, convinced you’d drown either in foul water or those dreadful roaches. Large palms cupped the gentle curves of your nude body, a feeling that once made you arch in willing surrender. Now, the blinding thought of death occupied every corner of your mind, making you wail like a slaughtered lamb.

Massive jaws tore into your limbs deeply, canines scraping bone as they split your flesh apart. Blood flowed abundantly from the gaping wound, into the feral mouth latched onto your inner thigh. Small, crimson rivulets pooled beneath you on the table as Lady Dimitrescu suckled your raw flesh with greedy hunger, familiar tongue lapping at the gash almost sensually. The sound of warm meat crushing between teeth filled your throat with bitterness, bile ready to spill.

Delirious, you begun replaying moments of your life when you were happy, safe in the company of loved ones who would never do you harm – your life flashing before your eyes.

Somehow, in the midst of your horrid torture, bolts of euphoria rushed through your broken limbs, akin to the ones you’ve felt when your lady’s masterful tongue pleasured you. Was this your brain's laughable attempt to bring comfort in those harrowing moments? Alcina leered with unsated appetite whilst thick blood overflowed her flawless chin, pooling in between her large breasts.

The velvety feel of her smooth tongue was excruciating, blinding you with ripples of debilitating pain, only to forcefully draw sensual pleasure out of you the next moment. You suddenly climaxed, yet the orgasmic bliss was barely able to compensate for the agony of being eaten alive.

It was a never-ending dance of extremities which blurred the lines between good and evil, reality and dream. You floated in and out of consciousness as life was stolen from you, drained through vampiric indentations drilled into your still-living flesh. At times, you’d see swarms of darkness clouding the pristine ceiling and you were sure the daughters were feeding on you as well. But you soon realized they were only there to aid their mother in whatever unholy ritual she was subjecting you to. Scarlet lips savored your skin with sensual kisses, smearing your life essence from the throbbing injuries on your thighs to the vulnerable warmth in between. You fearfully anticipated another agonizing bite, yet it never came. Instead, pleasure pooled hotly in your core as she painted your flower red, brining you yet again to the heights of forbidden ecstasy.

“A Phoenix needs to be consumed by flames in order to be born anew.”

Alcina murmured sweetly, resting her large palm at the base of your throat, gentle thumb stroking your weak pulse. You wished you could’ve hated her for what she was doing, for what she’d done, yet only naive adoration filled your chest at the sight of her dazzling eyes. She pulled away from your burning flesh, swallowing deeply. Even freed, your limbs were useless as you watched her with unfocused, half-lidded eyes. Your senses were shutting down rapidly from the copious amount of blood loss, each strangled breath threatening to be your last.

The madam stood to her magnificent height, towering over you as she paced about the room and observed you closely. At times you swore you saw a concerned frown darkening her flawless features, and then she’d smile mischievously while threading long fingers through your hair, touching your cold forehead. When the door opened and her perfume dissipated, you finally let your heavy lids fall close.

Her daughters gathered around you in her absence, eager to lap each precious trace of blood off your weak body. Their mouths were large, grotesque slugs, their fingers crawling insect legs, picking at your tender wounds. Feeling awful, you groaned and shifted with the last bits of strength you could muster. A sudden weight crushed your chest, making you heave as if you were about to vomit all the pain, the distress, the horror of being there.

Grisly faces loomed over you whilst you were carefully laid upon the floor on a single white bedsheet. Then, in the blink of an eye, the three macabre figures exploded into restless insects, taking away the chamber's light. In the overwhelming gloom, you heard the sound of your own sternum breaking, bone shards making a home into your dry flesh. Strangely, you didn’t feel a thing, as if you were naught but a corpse on the autopsy table, your soul damned to linger in its decaying shell. Something moved within you, slithering between your ribs and feeding on your heart, your lungs.

Dim candles came to life, revealing the charming image of Lady Dimitrescu kneeling over you, as beautiful as the moment you first saw her. She took your lips in a sensual kiss, and with it, your last breath.

-          To be continued...

*part XVI.