#he is so so so wet and pathetic in shadow form

[babesareblue]

The face of a guy unhappy to be trapped in the shadow realm

[sweetnothingtm]

every man gets his wish // simon riley

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ "i learned how to make love from the movies" ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

pairing simon x fem!reader

content pure unadulterated smut, maybe a daddy kink?

summary the one where ghost is obsessed w a camgirl

note based off my drabble, thank you for the love ♡ lmk if you want a part twooo

There’s a special place in hell for people like Simon Riley.

He could’ve gone to heaven - but he won’t.

Simon has vices. He has anger issues, and he doesn’t like to share. He doesn’t take precautions, he’s cocky with his wallet and he most certainly doesn’t take orders from anyone.

He’s impulsive, abrasive, and most importantly - Simon Riley only thinks with his dick.

You’re the opposite of him. Careful, gentle and patient, you come across as bubbly and approachable. The sparkle in your eyes just never seemed to die, and an innocent smile is always playing at your lips. You seem to embody everything that Simon could never be.

Not that he would know - you’re just an eager camgirl with a big audience.

Every night, Simon Riley comes crawling to you like a stray dog. It wasn’t meant to be this way, so vile and naughty and delicious. He swore it would only happen once, and yet here he is, pining after the taste of you. He always finds himself with his cock in his hands, eyes rolling up to the ceiling and filthy curses slipping past his lips.

You’ve already started - much to his disappointment.

He’s usually so punctual. Never wasting your time. Always appreciative of the way your eyes sparkle with adoration when he joins the stream. Today was no different - he was just a little too eager and spent the last hour jerking off to the thought of you.

And he’s gonna do it again

The room is cast in a soft glow, your legs tucked beneath you and the soft hum of music playing in the background. Your soft skin is covered in red lingerie, pillowy tits covered by the lace that he bought.

It’s a damn shame - the way Simon can’t be there to take it off himself.

In contrast to the natural shine you give off, Simon is drowned out by the dark moonlight. His body casually leans back against the headboard, eyes trained on the illuminated screen that separates you from him. While he is adorned in shadows, you shine with the soft glow of your exposed skin.

Your lips, pulled into a little pout. Your delicate fingers, dipping between your plush thighs. The ebbs and flow of your body, curves and blemishes that he’s memorized like he owns you.

It’s quite pathetic, really - how infatuated he’s become with a camgirl. But he can’t help himself. He’s got all your videos saved in a folder that he opens at every opportunity.

He’s cum to you more times than he can count, always groaning as the hot ropes of white liquid splatter against his skin. He’d tip you relentlessly, always accompanied by a foreboding message that sent chills along your spine.

Missed you, princess. What a good girl. Finished so soon? What a beautiful little slut.

Your hands are wrapped around a little pink toy that you push between your thighs. It hums against your skin, causing Simon to angrily palm himself through his pants. The sickeningly sweet sound of your gasp has him reeling, cock already beginning to twitch and drip with precum.

His hand continues to palm at it, ignoring the little stain that starts to form on his pants as you continue to stimulate yourself. You gently part your thighs, hair framing your face as you give him - yes, him - a little preview of his deepest desires.

You’re already wet, and he curses himself for being late today. Simon is memorizing the little bow on your panties, the way you push the vibrator against the soft fabric and let your little plump lips part for a moan.

He’s got a toothy grin, rubbing at the tip of his cock and imagining that it’s your delicate hands struggling to wrap around him.

You’d blink up at him with full and eager eyes, lip pulled between your teeth. You’d gently unzip his pants, fingernails dragging against his skin and causing his dick to perk up. He’d rub the pad of his thumb against your cheek, a nasty smirk plastered across his face.

Simon imagines that your tongue would give gentle licks against his irritated tip, that you’d hollow out your cheeks and suck him off until his cum is coating your throat. He would continue to lazily fuck your mouth, tears gathering at the corner of your eyes as you hummed against his cock.

The sound of your little gasps pulls him from the daydream, eyes sharply trained on the screen as you pull your panties to the side and rub the vibrator against your clit. Your chest is pressed outwards, nipples hard against the red lace that separates him from you.

Before he can stop himself, with his cock twitching underneath his touch and thumb rubbing softly over his tip, he absently clicks on the keyboard. It’s a good thing he’s got his card number memorized.

$250 from Ghost_Stalker

-smile pretty for me, princess.

You pause your movement, vibrator stuck between your folds as you writhe and twitch against it. You squint your eyes, rolling over the message once. Twice. Three times before a smile is tugging at your lips. A hand comes up to squeeze your tit, fingernails dragging against the lace as you lean into the camera and smile sweetly.

“hi ghost - i missed you.”

His belt hits the floor before you finish your sentence.

Your voice is thick like honey, laced with desire that Simon is convinced was meant just for him. The vibrator begins to move again, pressing into your wet core with a little squelch as you mewl out in pleasure.

He follows your pace, eyes fixated on the pink toy that dips in and out of your little pussy. It stretches you, pushing against your folds and humming against you.

Simon is messily jerking himself off as you roll your hips against the vibrator, letting soft pleas fall from your lips. He spits on the tip of his cock, palm rubbing it against his shaft as he grunts happily. The slick and lazy strokes mirror the way you rub the vibrator greedily against your clit, thighs parting like the gates of heaven.

He wants in.

When you pull the toy away from you, the sound of your dripping cunt follows along with it. You wiggle closer to the camera, eyes blown out with pleasure as you press the pink toy into your mouth and lick. Tongue sloppy, eyes rolling in ecstasy and hips bucking against the pillow underneath you.

$300 from Ghost_Stalker

-i missed you more princess. missed your pretty little pussy.

“prove it,” you challenge.

His head slams against the back of the chair, cock covered in his spit as the sounds of your soft laughter that plays from his screen. He bucks his hips up with his movements, imagining that your body is curled around him and bouncing on his lap.

Your nails would drag against his skin, leaving harsh red lines in their wake as he’d let his hand fly to your ass with a sickening smack.

You’d jump, grinding your mound into him with desperation as your perky tits rub against his chest. Simon imagines himself nipping, licking and biting at them, his dick throbbing at the way you’d drool out his name.

In his dreams, you’re an obedient little slut. Ever a tease, you’d bounce on his dick one minute and beg for a kiss the next. He’d wrap his hand around your throat, choking you until you’re seeing stars and begging him for more.

You’re chatting away with sleazy men who can’t afford you, and it makes Simon enraged. It’s him who matters. It’s him who should have your attention. It’s him who you should open your legs for. His stroking gets aggressive, jaw set and hardened as you blow kisses and make false promises. Simon is rubbing himself raw, his free hand going to cup his balls and gently squeeze.

And then someone asks you where you got your cute little outfit. And like the vixen you are, you smile sweetly into the camera and push your tits together.

“Oh? these? they were a gift from someone special.”

And it’s true. He’s your favorite. He’s the one who you’re dreaming of - and it’s embarrassing to pine after a man you’ve never met. But it’s washed away by the burning desire to please him. Only him.

He’s trying so hard to hang on. To regain some sense of normalcy as his dick continues to twitch and warmth spreads throughout his body like an inferno. His eyes are trained on your curves, the way you’ve got a smile lighting your face up as your hips grind into the soft pillow below you. He’s slapping the tip of his dick against his abdomen, letting the beads of precum splat against his skin and forever stain him a sinner.

Here he goes again, thinking with his dick.

$500 from Ghost_Stalker

-put on a good show for daddy.

And you do. The red lace has been slipped off of you, tossed to the side as you reach over and off the screen to grab something. A perfect angle of your tits in full view. Simon follows every movement. He licks his lips in anticipation, stomach heavy with desire.

You sheepishly pull the dildo out, smacking it against your outstretched tongue and dipping a hand between your legs. Dripping, wet beyond comprehension and Simon is lucky enough to watch as you curl your fingers inside your pussy and mewl.

His hips are rutting up, hand fisting his cock in desperation as you suck on the dildo while fingerfucking yourself. His chest is tight, sweat glistening against his skin while he watches intensely. So fucking wet.

You hope he’s watching. You’re praying that he’s jerking off to the sight of you. That you’re both staring up at the ceiling, eyes searching for the constellations that brought you together when the stars aligned.

Is it wrong? To want something that you’ve never known?

Simon can tell you’re becoming undone. You always get riled up with his words, eyes full of excitement as he showers you with attention every stream. In his fantasy, Simon thinks you wished that your delicate fingers were his. That you wanted him to slowly rub at your bud of nerves and press his fingers into your cunt. And then he’d have you sit on his cock and make him watch as he licked his fingers clean.

He can’t help himself when you’re like this, messy and needy on screen with your wet pussy smearing against the pillow that he wishes was his face. You’re whining and panting, fingers dipping in and out of your core as Simon picks up the pace and lets the heat travel up his skin and light him ablaze. Your voice is music to his ears.

“i’m so close- fuck. please, i- gonna cum.”

When you climax, your chest is heaving and a layer of sweat has covered your soft skin. Your hands are dancing across your soft tits, twisting at your hardened nipples that all but scream bite me. He’s smearing more spit all over himself, breath coming out in short pants and eyes dark and heavy.

The dildo rests against your folds, almost as if it’s taunting him. And so what if he blows all him money in one night? It’s going to a good cause - at least, that’s what he’s convinced himself.

$2500 from Ghost_Stalker

-again.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth at the message, ignoring the chat as it blows up at the extra show. You’re already eager, smacking the tip of the dildo against your folds and rolling your hips upwards.

“a little desperate tonight? i don’t mind - anything for daddy”

It takes everything in him not to cum right then and there. Simon feels like he’s died and been reborn. Like a siren has sung him to a peaceful sleep. Like the explanations for his bank statements are worth it. And when you press the tip of the toy into your dripping wet hole, it feels like Simon can practically smell your sickeningly sweet pussy.

He thinks it smells like candy.

You wince at every inch of silicone that slides into you. Your thighs are trembling, an arm propping yourself up as you whine and mewl like his favorite little kitten. The camera is shaking from your movements, head hung back in ecstasy as you bottom out the dildo and sigh happily.

Such a dirty slut, Simon muses. So nasty. At this point, his strokes are quick and methodical. Tugging at his tip that’s still producing precum, almost as if it’s desperate for release. His balls ache, his eyebrows are knitted in concentration and his abs are tight with anticipation.

“m’ so wet,” you gasp, the sounds of your pussy flitting against the dildo playing on repeat in Simon’s mind. Your thighs are spread fully, and your pillowy tits are jiggling with the movement of you fucking yourself. “are you watching?”

There’s a frenzy in the chat, a hundred eager men thinking that your words are meant for them. You raise yourself to your knees, angling to toy to press against your folds as you bite your lip. “i bet you are. guess what?” You breathe, eyes twinkling with mischief. “i wish you were here.”

Oh, how wrong they were.

He's close. The edge that he’s built is about to fall beneath him, collapse into a million pieces while you get drunk off the way the dildo slips in and out of you. Your eyes are squeezed shut and your chest is heaving, lungs struggling to take in air as you climb that high once more.

You whine and beg to yourself. Simon curses and lets his hips snap up against his stroking. His cock is unbearably hard, skin tingling with the sensation of pure lust that consumes him. You bounce and grind on the dildo with need, hair falling back against your bare shoulders as Simon drinks in every ounce of you.

Legs shaking, tits bouncing and hands coming up to play with your nipples, you look like a goddess. He’s never been so entranced, so enthralled and so obsessed. The way your nails dig into your skin, squeals of pleasure ripping through your stomach as you cum around the toy. You roll your hips greedily, savoring the orgasm and rubbing quick circles against your clit.

It’s all that it takes to have him squeezing the tip of his cock and shooting hot cum all over his stomach. It’s shameful, pathetic and downright heavenly. He promises that he’ll never cum to anyone but you.

The overstimulation has you reeling, chest heaving and eyes watering in excitement as a wave of pure bliss is crashing against you. The chat is singing praises to you, falling on deaf ears as you lazily still your hips and lean forward - dildo still firmly shoved in your pussy.

“are you satisfied?” You ask innocently. No, never. You don’t say his screen name, but it doesn’t matter, he knows it’s him you’re talking to. He knows by the way you slide off the toy, hair sticking to your skin as you slip on the red lace as a sign that the shows coming to an end. He knows by the way you dip your fingers between your wet folds, gathering the sticky cum around your digits - before you lick it off them like such a good girl.

He has to have you.

$5000 from Ghost_Stalker

-i’ll double it if you do it again

[zorosdimples]

pairing ⛧ yandere!diavolo x f!reader x barbatos

warnings ⛧ minors: please do not interact! i will block you. this is a doozy… implied toxic relationships, inhuman anatomy, monsterfucking, breeding, knotting, cervix fucking, dubious consent, pregnancy mention, lots and lots of cum, passing out, neglect (kind of), bondage and restraints, implied nonconsensual acts at the end. reader has a vagina and is referred to as “my little human” and “little one.” please let me know if there is anything i missed!

word count ⛧ 1129

notes ⛧ this is the first installment of the garden of earthly delights! i apologize for the wait; i hope everyone enjoys <3

you have never looked more beautiful—more his—than in this moment, diavolo thinks. the demon prince has one massive hand encircling your ankles, pressing your knees flush to your chest. his other hand cradles the back of your head with adoration, forcing your teary gaze to remain on him, a clawed thumb hooked between your swollen lips. his amber irises are nearly subsumed by his pupils, jet as the moonless night.

black spots cloud your watery vision as you slobber all over the digit, broken whines the only sound to leave your lips; the golden tips of his horns flash in your periphery. you’re on the verge of losing consciousness.

diavolo has been breeding you for hours. his long, thick cock—gilt, ribbed, impossibly large, and complete with a knot—has already stuffed you so full of seed that your stomach is distended. the viscous liquid, a rich cream with an otherworldly sheen, spurts out of your abused cunt with each of his powerful thrusts. the rest of it tingles hotly in your core.

“you can take one more, can’t you, my little human?” diavolo coos, breath unnervingly steady given the force of his movements. he leans down to smear a gentle kiss against your damp hairline before dropping your head and sliding his hand down to rub your puffy clit, plenty slick with the fluids coating your flesh.

“c-can’t,” you whimper. your nerves are fried and the overstimulation has your head pounding and your legs shaking as diavolo’s cock batters your cervix. your hands scratch and scrape at his chest in an attempt to get him to slow, to stop—anything—but your nails do not even pierce the prince’s thick flesh. the demon chuckles at your pathetic protests and his pace quickens in response.

hasn’t he taught you that you are not as fragile as you think?

“you can,” diavolo asserts, pulling out entirely. his crimson strands hang past his forehead and obscure his eyes, the glistering gold almost menacing as he leans over you. he strokes himself lazily, grazing his flared knot with a shiver, ready for his high. ready to see your womb swell with his heir.

“and you will,” he punctuates by plunging his cock and knot inside you in one fluid motion, a guttural groan rumbling from his heaving chest. your mouth stretches to accommodate a scream that never passes your lips. your body is aflame, dripping with sweat; the room fades into nothingness as diavolo’s hot cum pumps into your pulsing cunt.

the room is dusky when you awaken. your lover is gone, his warmth and ever-present touch absent, stillness in his place. the slippery silk sheets cling to you and glide along your curves as you sit upright. you clutch your forehead and curse the dull thump in your skull, a wince breaking the quiet. you feel a trickle of sticky cum ooze from you to join the wet puddle you slept atop like an animal.

the demon prince’s little pet.

a rustling sound draws you from your thoughts. a looming figure swathed in shadow floats toward the bed; you squeak in fright as you yank the sheets up to your neck in an attempt to shield your nude form.

“there you are,” barbatos, who you can now see as he emerges from the darkness, says. “i apologize for disturbing you. i am here on behalf of the young master.”

you breathe a shaky sigh of relief—the demon butler is your only friend in the lonely castle. “you scared me, barbatos. where’s diavolo?”

barbatos turns on the bedside lamp, bathing the room in a faint glow. his eyes, emerald in the low light, shine eerily as his gaze meets yours. “the young master had to run to an impromptu meeting, but he did not wish to disturb your rest. thus, i am here to aid you in his stead.”

you furrow your brows. a meeting. you were once a member of the student council, privy to conferences and other social functions—until diavolo’s devotion to you got the better of him. (as a human, you are far safer being completely removed from lesser demons. and there is no one better to care for you than the prince of the devildom himself.)

you suppress your memories. “thank you. i can manage myself.”

instead of bowing and leaving, though, barbatos stands still. his forked tail sways at his feet and his skeletal horns gleam resolutely. after a few moments of deathly silence, you rephrase your dismissal: “i don’t need any help, barbatos. i appreciate you checking on me.”

the demon takes a step closer to the bed, his knees nearly knocking against the frame. “you do not seem to understand me,” barbatos muses, gloved hand delicately resting beneath his chin. if you were less disoriented, you would notice the hint of mirth in his tone. “lord diavolo ordered me to assist you, as he had to leave unexpectedly. i shall honor his wishes.”

the corners of the butler’s lips curl into a faint smirk, but no humor marks his visage. in fact, there seems to be a primal hunger lurking in the dark, verdant depths of barbatos’s irises. fear beams through your body. it starts in the pit of your stomach and spreads its icy tendrils out through your limbs, biting your fingertips. headache forgotten, you now feel faint; your heart skitters like scared prey. unconsciously, you pull the sheets around you tightly, temporarily shielding yourself from the humiliation that is sure to come.

“there is nothing to fear, little one,” barbatos soothes, smoothing a hand over your hair, matted with sweat and his master’s cum. the act is more patronizing than it is comforting.

the demon snaps his fingers and the sheets wrapped around you disappear. you scramble to cover yourself with your hands, but barbatos is infinitely stronger and faster than you are. his forked tail—cold and wet—coils around your ankles and pulls you to the edge of the bed. another snap of his fingers, and your body is bound with invisible restraints. your arms are stretched above your head, almost painfully so. your legs are spread wide and bent at the knee; no matter how hard you try, you can’t move. there’s even a gag in your mouth to muffle your cries and force you to suck oxygen through your nose.

crouching between your open legs, the butler tsks. “oh my, what a mess.” his tail slithers up your leg and settles atop your womb. the slightest pressure from the appendage causes a stream of diavolo’s cum to rush out of your bruised hole. the demon’s snakelike tongue darts out and tastes the semen that is now pooled beneath your ass.

bartabos’s eyes meet yours and he smiles something wicked. “let’s get you cleaned up—shall we?”

[ectologia]

EXPRESS

TOMURA SHIGARAKI + FEMALE READER

WARNING: DUBCON/NONCON, PROFANITY, DRUNK READER, PUSSY WEDGIE, EXHIBITIONISM, PUBLIC TRAIN MASTURBATION, FOOT HUMPING, HUMILIATION

Your feet drag along the raised concrete, you can barely take a step without tipping head first into the nearest wall or inconveniently placed bin. It’s unfortunate nobody took it upon themselves to actually walk you home, you’re fucked out of your mind — who let you drink this much anyway?

The clusters of people gathered in the station only glare at your clumsy stumbling, shuffling and shifting away into themselves once they see your staggering form sway towards them.

Your requests to borrow somebody’s phone are denied or out-right ignored instantly, left clinging to the rim of the greasy bin for some kind of stability.

“Escuse m’.. Uhm.. ‘s this m’ train..”

Trimmed brows furrow at your mumbling, their eyes drifting around uncomfortably before you can finally muster up a proper sentence. “Uhm.. Yeah. That’s your train.” You nod along dumbly, following their finger as they point to the still train currently boarding.

You’re sure you’ve stepped over eight peoples toes already, but you don’t really care when all you’re focused on is not puking your guts out. A fist curls around one of the grab-handles for support, giggling and squealing like a child as the train bumps to a start. Your limp body is practically thrown onto the floor of the train, left to hug and lean on the vacant seats.

Your clouded eyes blink down at the pair of tattered, red sneakers crossed by your feet. A hoarse growl grabs your attention, tilting your chin up to squint your swivelling eyes at the hooded figure. His face is overcast with a dim shadow, what’s not concealed by his hoodie is curtained by thin, static tresses of alice blue.

The grim line that makes up his lips quirks upwards at your dopey expression and disheveled appearance. On instinct, you smile back, mistaking his fiendish smirk for something akin to friendliness you can’t help but shuffle closer on your bum, reaching your arms out to hug his leg.

Your fellow passengers grimace at the display, pivoting their heads to look out the window, clutching their belongings closer.

If you were any other dumb, drunk bitch, you’d be a pile of dust by now. But he’s had a long day, so he decides to indulge you’re intoxicated idiocy. He opens his knees, man-spreading across the fortunately empty seats either side of him, he doesn’t blame the rest of the pathetic lot on the train for not wanting to sit next to the creepy man dressed in all-black.

His foot shimmies itself in between your spread thighs, opting to have you sit on it for him. You cock your head once you feel the ridges of his shoe circle the chubby mound hidden in your panties.

“Hump it.” Shigaraki hunches, bending down to whisper into your ear.

You suck on your bottom lip, wiping your face into the denim of his jeans before propping your chin on-top of his knee, purring. Your stupid little brain clearly isn’t comprehending what he’s saying at the moment, so he helps you out. You let out a breathy giggle as the metal rings and harsh material of his sneakers grind beneath you, bumping into your hooded clit with every jerk.

You don’t understand what’s happening, but you can’t find it in yourself to stop when your hips begin to move on their own, wanting to bounce your horny cunny on some random man, in public no less.

A sizeable portion of the passengers shuffle out of the cart with disgusted frowns, while other on-lookers distract themselves with their phones or reading books, glancing at your perverted antics every so often.

Shigaraki smiles down at you, slipping his tongue out to wet his lips as he watches you hump his leg like a dog. He’s no longer moving his foot along with you, letting you fuck yourself on his dirty sneakers at your own pace. You’ve latched onto his leg now, cuddling into him while your tongue lolls out of your mouth, leaving a dark, wet patch of drool to seep onto his thigh while you’re sloppy, dribbling pussy leaves it’s own trail of fluid along his shoe.

Your ears perk at the sound of a shutter, looking up to see a shiny phone being shoved into your face. Your movements halt as you squint at the white light.

“Hey.” Shigaraki lifts his foot up, giving your puffy cunt a little kick. “Keep humping girlie.”

You’re bounced a few times before you’re able to get the ball rolling again. You continue to grind your clothed pussy down onto his shoe, shaking your ass as you desperately try to get to your orgasm.

He rasps a laugh at your fucked out expression, zooming in on your sloppy face before bending down to lift your dress up, getting a nice shot of you masturbating your horny pussy on his foot. Two fingers dip down to tug at the cotton of your panties, pulling the crotch nice and tight against your hard clit while your fat pussy lips spill out the sides. Your contorted slit is given a few harsh smacks before he sits back up.

He’s hard as a fucking rock but he doesn’t really feel like getting his massive cock out right now. Might scare the on-lookers. He lets you have your fun, cumming your little heart out while you fuck yourself on the floor. He takes a few purposeful glances at you before turning his attention back to his phone, thumbing the screen.

5 IMAGES

2 VIDEOS

TOMURA: train slut lmao

DABI: holy shit

DABI: look how wet her fucking pussy is

DABI: why’s she humping ur shit on the fucking train lmao

TOMURA: dirty twat

You’re propelled backwards onto the ground once the train stops, blinking up at Shigaraki’s tall stature as he stands, swiping at the linoleum floor with the slicked up rubber of his shoe.

You half expect him to bid you some kind of goodbye or atleast acknowledge you as he steps over your panting, crumpled form. You stare at him almost longingly as he makes his way to the exit, only pivoting his head to look back at you with a lecherous grin before dispersing into the crowd of people gathered by the doors.

Your face burns red and warm once you realise how many people on the train are staring at your wet little pussy.

[qvrcll]

nsfw + exhibitionist

moments of reprieve with coriolanus snow are something intimate. stolen. he’s not thrilled with the idea of being found out, but he’s so enraptured with the scent, the company, the likes of you, that he really doesn’t think twice as hard when breaking the rules this once.

“hey, hey,” he breathes into your mouth, past your neck and the little patch of skin that catches his swill pant the moment you hurl him into a darkened corner of the academy. there’s not a lot of tight spaces to sneak around, so you’re always discriminating with your choices. but the price to pay is replete when you drink in the boy you love so much. still, he has his qualms about these secret endeavours, “we’ll get caught.”

“no we won’t, coryo,” you whine, already guessing the minute trice in time in which he concedes just a little, sighing in defeat when his body submits itself to you, unbidden. hopeless, even when he tries to quieten himself. when you drop your kisses to the little jut of bone against his neck, he’s swallowing hard around the ball hewing in his throat and making all sorts of noises, and his eyes crinkle towards a barely decent flutter and you figure, it’s not so bad… doing this so very discreetly, that is, “see? you’re making enough noises for the both of us.”

the comment had been in jest, but it sinks into the umbra of his mind, materialising as a mild panic as his body contorts further into the shadows that the old corner can offer, working more on containing his little noises. though not as loud, he doesn’t cease and fails to let up - and you’re grinning ear to ear when you’re palming a strict bulge forming in his pants with the flat of your palm. the air gets warmer, his breath a whim you seek to jeopardise.

“o-oh,” he quietly lets into your neck, desperately. pathetic really, when he curls his torso into the shear of your strokes to catch more pressure again his groin, his refrains rippling into some sick reprise of begging, “s… stop… please… don’t stop…”

and of course you’re giving but cruel, for you’re already catching his lips between your teeth, marring and breaking the skin softly, where the tinge of blood in your teeth is a repercussion. something small compared to how your hand floats beneath the band of his underwear, skulking against a thin accretion of pelvic hair and finding his dick pulsing hotly, wetly, in your disarranged grip.

but what do you care? a few tugs, and he’s convulsing against you. he’s almost clawing at you, lost to his own pleasures and forgetting what it was that had perturbed him so badly about the contingency of a release in a public domain, no longer a ghoul in the shadows but letting his whimpers swallow him proudly. too proudly, in fact, where you clamp a heavy hand across his mouth, feeling the warmness of his breath eventuate on the naked part of your palm.

“you need to be quiet, hm?” you all but whisper, pushing harder against the skin gathered down and tugging, where he follows aimlessly like a halfwit chasing for release. his resilience to the shadows is admirable, but his noises are prone to invite extrinsic company. no, too much, “be quiet, or i stop, coryo.”

his eyes will go wide, cobalt blue and coming apart within himself with your hands crammed into his dress-pants and bruising kisses that almost gnaw towards discomfort, but he simply weeps into your mouth and nods like it is a thing too great for him to think with his dick wet. instead, he lets your hands trail him to a choking release, as he cards the regret for a later opportunity, letting the blood rush towards a stranger place.

breaking one more rule should not hurt too much… right?

© 2023 qvrcll. do not repost any of my works on any platform.

[theostrophywife]

disturbia.

author's note: this is very different from anything i've ever written and largely inspired by this song. it's quite dark, so trigger warning for dark!az, predator/prey, and dub-con elements.

the shadowsinger had a sinister secret.

azriel was hungry. he craved, he coveted. within him was a festering desire, blossoming like a nightshade, unfurling its poisonous fruit with quiet malevolence since the day he first laid eyes on you.

you.

he desired you, ached for you. didn’t you know that he would do anything for you? didn’t you know that he would kill for you?

surely not.

because if you did, you wouldn’t be wasting your time on that pathetic excuse of a male that called himself your boyfriend. if only you realized that azriel was the only person for you. the one that knew you, the one that loved you, the one that watched you.

the shadowsinger couldn’t help himself. you made it so easy. hasn’t anyone ever taught you to cover your windows? to double check the lock on your doors? to reinforce the wards around your home?

if azriel didn’t know any better, he’d think that you were doing this on purpose. maybe you wanted him to see. maybe you pretended not to notice him in the shadows. maybe you feigned ignorance to the fact that he snuck in through your window every night, watching and waiting.

with his shadows enveloping him, azriel was nearly invisible in the swath of darkness that was your room. the shadowsinger claimed his post by the corner, squinting through the faint sliver of moonlight cascading over your writhing body.

at first, he thought you were asleep. perhaps in the throes of a nightmare.

but he was wrong.

your breathing sounded soft and ragged, the pounding of your heart echoing in his ears as you twisted through the sheets. a crease formed between his brows as he crept closer. you were utterly oblivious and completely unaware of his presence. you weren’t dreaming at all, but instead touching yourself.

mesmerized, the shadowsinger watched through heavy lids as your dainty fingers slipped between your legs, taunting and teasing as you spread your own slick through your puffy folds. azriel’s eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head as the sweet, heady scent of arousal filled the room.

he'd crawl on his hands and knees for a chance to taste you.

the little whines and pants that escaped your lips sounded like heaven to his ears. the shadowsinger gripped the edge of your four poster bed as you spread your legs even wider, blankets sliding off of your creamy thighs as your fingers plunged into your soaking wet folds. you arched against the bed so prettily, cheeks flushed and lips bloodred as you bit down on a moan.

“fuck,” you keened as your fingers found purchase against your clit. “so good. so fucking good, azriel.”

azriel paused in the darkness. his breathing stilled. shadows peered over his shoulders. he was dreaming—he had to be. only in his wildest fantasies would you be moaning his name while fucking yourself with your fingers.

“gods, just like that. feels so fucking good,” the breathy cadence of your voice made his cock stiffen in his trousers. “don’t stop, azriel.”

one of azriel’s shadows snaked across your torso, twining through your soaked fingers to provide assistance. you bit down on your bottom lip and blood rushed straight to the shadowsinger’s already hard length. as soon as you sensed his shadow, your eyes flew open, blinking yourself back to reality. azriel could hear the thunderous beat of your heart as you scrambled and pushed yourself against the headboard, trembling at the sight of him lurking in the shadows.

it was one thing to fantasize about the shadowsinger, but quite another to find him prowling towards you in the dark.

“how did you get in here?” you asked with a fraught tone.

"the window," the shadowsinger said, his eyes trained on you. his voice, which sounded like cold death, caused the hairs on the back of your neck to prickle. "you should really check the locks before touching yourself. you never know who could be watching, little dove."

azriel inched closer, watching as your arousal transformed into something much sweeter—fear. you clutched the blankets up to your chest, but the thin fabric slipped between your fingers, giving him a perfect view of the sheer baby pink lace that barely concealed your body.

"what—what do you want from me—" your voice trembled as the shadowsinger smirked.

in one swift motion, azriel yanked you to the edge of the bed, the silk of your skimpy nightgown riding up your thighs as he wrapped your ankles around his waist. scarred fingers toyed with the flimsy straps of your gown and your breath hitched as his rough, calloused hands made contact with your sensitive skin.

"i think the better question is, what do you want from me, little dove?" azriel fisted your hair and tugged forcefully. "i heard you moaning my name.”

your cheeks reddened. it was supposed to be a fantasy. a dirty little secret that you only allowed yourself to indulge in within the privacy of your room. azriel wasn’t meant to know that it was him you thought about when your hands were between your legs. or that it was him that you imagined when your boyfriend was on top of you.

ex-boyfriend, now that you finally admitted to yourself that he could never please you in the way that you desired. still, the shadowsinger didn’t need to know that.

“you heard wrong. i wasn’t moaning your name. i was —i was thinking about my boyfriend. he’ll be back any second now.”

a blatant lie. one that azriel clearly saw right through.

“no, he won’t. you never let him sleep over. why is that, little dove? does he not satisfy you?” azriel drew patterns upon your skin, his soft voice calm yet menacing at the same time. “does he not seduce you in the ways that you wish to be seduced?”

your eyes fluttered close as the shadowsinger tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. his cool breath fanned over your overheated skin as he grazed his teeth along your earlobe. “i bet he can’t fuck you like i can.”

too far. you had let this go too far. you were supposed to hate him. azriel was the hunter; you, the hunted. the shadowsinger was a wolf waiting to sink his claws into his doe-eyed prey. everything about him should have repulsed you, but instead you felt seduced by the dark, demented male.

"i don't know how you got in, but i think you should leave," you breathed, cheeks flushed and eyes glossy with unshed tears. you tried to make your voice sound as authoritative as possible, but it faltered into a soft, raspy murmur, which only made the shadowsinger smirk arrogantly. "you're scaring me—"

azriel gripped the back of your head, lightly tugging at your scalp. despite the alarms blaring in your mind, you couldn't help but lean into his touch. he felt warm and solid against you, his muscled thigh pressing against your core. "oh, but i don't think i am, little dove. i think you wanted me to hear. i think you've known that i've been watching you for a while now and i think you it turns you on."

underneath the blankets, your fingers curled around the mug you had swiped from the dresser. before azriel could come any closer, you smashed the glass to the side of his head, but it met empty air instead. the winged male disappeared into a veil of shadows, submerging the room in utter darkness. the mug clattered to the floor just as his low, husky voice slithered through the silence.

"run."

you bolted out of your bedroom, bare feet thudding through the hallway as you raced for the stairs. behind you, azriel chuckled darkly as you gave chase. you knew he could easily catch you by moving through his shadows, but he didn't. it was almost like he was enjoying this. like he was getting off on frightening you. he was the predator; you were the prey.

and you didn't stand a chance against him.

but still, you flew past the front door and ran through the clearing behind your house as fast as your aching legs would take you. the moon glittered overhead as you tripped over the roots and branches of the sinister forest, running and running with nowhere to go. your nightgown caught on a bramble of thorns and the delicate lace ripped at the hem, revealing even more of your already exposed skin.

the cold winter air caused you to shiver violently, but you had no time to ponder your discomfort as you rounded on a thicket of oak trees. you cried out as something sharp pierced your skin. a thorn had scratched your face and blood welled like crimson tears upon your cheekbone. with shaking hands, you swiped at the scratch and winced at the sting of pain.

"poor little dove," azriel cooed, materializing out of nothingness. you pressed against the nearest tree, the rough bark biting your skin as you attempted to place distance between you and the shadowsinger. the slash of his smirk made you shiver. azriel prowled through the forest like a wolf, his golden eyes hungry. "so frail and helpless. let me help you, little one."

the shadowsinger cornered you, his dark wings blocking any means of escape. you whimpered as he caressed your cheek. his breath was warm against your face as he licked away the droplets of blood dripping from your scratch.

“don’t,” you cried out, shoving at his immovable chest. “don’t touch me!”

azriel took hold of your wrists and slammed you backwards against the oak tree. the rough bark scratched at your arms and legs, feeling like a thousand tiny needles all over your body. with tear stained cheeks, you looked up at azriel. the eerie silver light from the crescent moon kissed his sharp, elegant features. he was classically handsome, beautiful in a lethal sort of way. you clenched your thighs together as those whiskey eyes hungrily raked over your figure, stripping you down with the lick of his gaze.

everything within you screamed that the shadowsinger was a sick and twisted predator. one who had snuck into your bedroom and admitted to watching you. the dark obsession azriel fostered for you made him a very dangerous male. it should have triggered your adrenaline to help fight back, but instead, you found yourself frozen in place as his fingers skirted over the hem of your dress.

“your mouth says one thing,” azriel murmured while he hiked your leg up over his waist, watching with a small smile as you shuddered in response to his touch. “but your body says another.”

“so what will it be, little dove?” the shadowsinger teased as his lips ghosted over the hollow of your throat. much to your chagrin, you sighed softly and arched against his warm, wet mouth. “the way i see it, you have two choices. you can keep running through the woods, cold and alone. knowing that i’ll eventually catch you. or you could accept your fate. stop fighting this, angel. admit that you want me.”

you spat in his face. “you’re fucking delusional!”

something dark and dangerous flashed through azriel’s hazel eyes. beneath that cold, icy exterior, his frozen rage began to thaw.

azriel dug his fingers into your hips, forming bruises in his wake. “and you’re in denial,” he hissed harshly. “even now, i can smell your arousal. you’re soaked, practically dripping for me. i bet that pretty little pussy of yours is aching for my cock.”

“you’re wrong,” you said defiantly despite the traitorous throbbing in your core. “i want nothing to do with you, shadowsinger.”

“don’t fucking lie to me, little dove.”

a harsh response sat on the tip of your tongue, but it never made it out. instead, a lewd moan replaced the insult as azriel dipped two fingers across your wet, soaking folds. out of instinct, you wrapped your legs around his trim waist and steadied yourself with both hands braced against his chest.

“filthy fucking liar,” azriel hissed into your ear. “you’re so wet, little dove. my fingers slipped right in.” you whimpered as he curled his middle and pointer finger inside of you. “gods, you’re tight. i can feel your pussy clenching around me. thought you wanted nothing to do with me, hm?”

“i don’t—“ the shadowsinger hit the spongy spot within your walls and stars erupted behind your eyes. “oh, fuck azriel—“

you mewled as his thumb found purchase against your clit. he expertly teased the sensitive bundle of nerves and you felt all sense and logic depart from your lust addled brain. “oh my gods,” you breathed, feeling that familiar rush of heat. “oh my fucking gods.”

“that’s right, little dove. i’m your god now.”

this wasn't right. everything about this situation was fucked up, but nothing had ever felt quite as heavenly as azriel's fingers. the shadowsinger slipped a third digit in and the scarred and calloused ridges covering his hand provided the perfect amount of friction against your aching cunt. you could hear how wet you were, soaking his palm as you tightened around him.

"take it, little dove. doesn't it feel good to take what you fucking want?" azriel whispered as he kissed bruises against your neck. "ride my fingers just like that. not so scared now, are you? i told you, no one else could fuck you like this. i can make your body sing, pretty girl." you wrapped your legs around his waist in a death grip and blubbered against his chest.

you were supposed to be scared of him. you were not supposed to like this, but fuck you did. there was no denying the pleasure that racked through your body as you rode his fingers. "please—oh."

the shadowsinger took advantage of your parted lips and crushed your mouths together. you should've pulled away. you should've slapped him across the face, but you did neither. instead, you twined your fingers through his hair and allowed his tongue to slip past your defenses. azriel growled when you moaned into his mouth, panting as you rolled your hips against his middle.

"so fucking greedy, baby." azriel nipped at your ear and gripped your waist. "can feel your pretty cunt squeezing me, little one. look at you, using my fingers to get yourself off. c'mon then, keep fucking my hand just like that."

a jolt of electricity crackled in your veins as you grinded down and matched his pace. it was heaven, it was hell. azriel's shadows flicked around your clit and unraveled you from the inside out.

“keep making those filthy sounds and i’ll have no choice but to fuck you against this tree." azriel hissed harshly as your cunt squeezed around his fingers in response. "oh, that's what you want, isn't it little one? you're not satisfied with my fingers, are you? you want my cock, too."

the shadowsinger's dark laughter skittered over you like shadows. "i thought you hated me, hm?"

"i do," you declared, looking up at him through your lashes. "i fucking hate you."

azriel smirked. "but you want to fuck me even more."

"no—" your breath hitched as azriel grinded against you. the evidence of his arousal pressed into your middle—long and hard and throbbing.

"i know you want it, little one." the shadowsinger rolled his hips as your head fell slack against the tree. "i know you want to sink down onto my cock and take every fucking inch like a good girl. isn't that right, pretty girl?"

you whimpered in response as he pulled his trousers down, freeing his cock from the constraints of the fabric. the tip, pink and swollen and dripping with precum, teased along your entrance as you tried to wriggle away. azriel groaned as the head of his cock parted your folds slowly.

"just the tip, baby." his breathing turned ragged as your warmth and heat hugged around him. the sensation alone could have made him cum. "feels good, doesn't it? stop trying to fight it, little dove. you know you want it. you know you want me."

tears streamed down your cheeks as you tried to fight the urge. you should stop. you should run. but azriel felt too fucking good.

"azriel, please."

"no." the shadowsinger growled as he gripped your jaw harshly. “don't whine. don't beg. take what you fucking want, little dove. that's the way this works. i want you, so i’m taking you. you need to do the same."

whatever shame you may have felt dissipated. there was no use denying the obvious. you may have hated him, but you wanted to fuck him even more. pushing aside your pride, you sank down onto azriel's cock with a gasp. your arousal instantly coated his length, making the shadowsinger feel as though he was drowning in your pussy.

"fuck," azriel choked out. "pussy's so wet, baby. so fucking tight too. that's it, pretty girl. clench around my cock just like that and i might fucking fall in love with you."

you clawed at azriel's back as you grinded into him, greedily bouncing on his cock as you moaned. the shadowsinger thrust upwards and fucked into you, making you squelch and squeeze around his length. the shadowsinger grunted with each thrust, driving himself deeper and deeper. the coarse bark scratched against your back, but the pain barely registered as you rolled your hips over and over again.

“azriel. azriel. azriel.”

“are you praying, baby?” azriel mused with a sharp thrust. “you should be, because no one’s saving you from me tonight. i’m your damnation, little one. i’m going to ruin you. and you’ll fucking beg for more.”

you sobbed as he pinched your right nipple with one hand and flicked his tongue over the left. there was something feral in his gaze as he drank in your eager responses, almost as though your little sighs and moans were more delicious than the finest liquor money could buy. azriel hissed when you tugged harshly at the back of his head, moaning into his mouth as his tongue claimed you. his fingers wrapped around your neck just as he sucked on your bottom lip, massaging your lips with his.

“we should stop. this is wrong. this is—“ you murmured, lifting your hips up and up until only the tip of his cock was inside of you.

“stop then, pretty girl.” azriel mocked as he held you in place. “stop riding my cock and walk away.” the shadowsinger paused, waiting for you to peel yourself off of him.

tears streaked down your cheeks as you held him closer, hands greedily slipping underneath his shirt to feel his warmth. “i can’t. its too good.”

the shadowsinger’s laughter echoed through the clearing as he slammed all the way in, rattling your brain while he fucked you against the oak wood. “that’s what i fucking thought,” he taunted.

azriel kept burying himself inside of you over and over again, drawing out your pleasure. the sound of skin slapping against skin was filthy, vulgar, and downright obscene, but it was nothing compared to azriel's mouth. every foul word that fell from his lips burned like a sweet, searing flame. azriel was a dark god and you've never felt more pious in your life as he worshipped you with his body. you cried, nails raking over his back in thin, red lines. blood seeped through his shirt as you clung onto him, but the shadowsinger made no complaints.

“can feel you squeezing me, pretty girl. bet you wanna cum, huh?” azriel said as he sucked your collarbone. “go on then, little one. milk my cock dry. be fucking greedy with it. turns me on how desperate you are.”

you wailed at the utter filthiness of his words. with a sharp stroke, your vision blurred and your legs shook violently underneath you. “oh gods,” you sobbed, feeling as though you were in a trance. “fuck, fuck, fuck.”

azriel’s sensitive cock throbbed as your hips stuttered, your glorious pussy clenching around him like a jealous lover. you creamed him from base to tip and he bit down on your shoulder to mask the growl that crawled up his throat.

“that’s my good little girl,” azriel praised, purring against your ear. “your pussy is fucking heaven. oh fuck, gonna cum inside you pretty girl.” hot ribbons spurted inside of you as azriel continued thrusting. “feel that, little one? that’s what you do to me. you drive me fucking wild.”

azriel grunted as he finished. “this pussy is mine and so are you. do you understand, little dove?”

the haziness of your orgasm made your head swim and you barely registered the pathetic little nod you gave. azriel smirked as you collapsed into his arms. his dark wings wrapped around you protectively. whether they were your prison or your refuge, you had no idea. all you knew was that your body buzzed from the mind shattering orgasm.

“no one would blame me if i kept you,” the shadowsinger murmured as he caressed your cheek. “i don’t care if it’s wrong. i want you. i need you and no one can take you away from me. i’d fucking gut them if they tried.”

you whimpered at his words, but azriel was undeterred by the fear swimming in your gaze. probably because the heady scent of your arousal had filled the air again. so eager for him even though he had just fucked you dumb.

“you’re fucking mine, little dove. and i’m never letting you go.”

[weird-an]

The shadow laughs at Billy. It's lurking in his head, cold and relentless. It knows everything, all the things Billy hides, brutally poking in his brain and cutting him open.

Billy always wanted to belong. Now he does and it's terrible.

He spent years pretending, the most beautiful girl in his arms while trying not to look at the pretty guys, Neil's words ringing in his ears.

He just wanted to fit in. Sometimes it's like he's still a kid, desperate for a hug, for her warmth, but she's gone.

Now the whole world is cold. A world he can't really see, because he's trapped, he's a part of something bigger, he belongs and he's got to build, build, build-

"Billy?"

There's a hand on his. It's a light touch, warmth blooming from it.

Billy blinks, a coherent thought forming in his mind, the first one in days, finally able to vocalize it.

"What?" His voice is rough, because he hasn't been the one using it. He couldn’t.

Steve Harrington's fingers are stroking the back of his hand. Keeping the skin there warm.

He can't really see him, because the shadows doesn't want him to. But he can feel the touch.

Billy's pathetic, because he dreamt of this. Because he wanted it ever since he saw these big brown eyes and crooked smile.

"What are you doing here?" Steve asks. Like he's worried, when he should be scared.

Billy wants to laugh and cry at once. He doesn't even know where here is. All he knows is that he belongs.

There's only a choking sound coming out of him. It‘s all him, like his throat belongs to him and not to it.

The shadow beings to expand, pressure building in his skull, his blood turning into ice. Soon Billy will be gone again and then Steve's a part of it-

"Fuck, you're too cold." Steve takes Billy's hand in his and squeezes.

The ice stops.

Billy blinks.

He can see Steve.

He makes a choking noise.

He can see.

"It's in my head," he rasps, instantly regretting it.

Steve's gonna leave him here, with the shadow, where he belongs. He expects the hand to let go.

Instead, Steve grabs his other hand, too. It's like California sunshine on his skin.

"We gonna help you," Steve says and he sounds so honest.

Billy's face is wet.

Please, he wants to say, but he doesn't. Whenever he said please, no one listened.

"It will be alright," Steve says like he's sure about it.

Billy wants to believe him, because it makes him feel even warmer.

[daddy-suguru]

- ʜᴇ’s ᴀ ᴍᴏɴsᴛᴇʀ, ʜᴇ ᴀᴛᴇ ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ;

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐 ✑ corruption/virgin kink - true form!Sukuna Ryomen

ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs | monster fucking, virgin!collage student!reader (has a vague idea of the parts and that they make babies but not how do), heavy virgin & corruption kink, begging, teaching, rough degrading praise, heavy hints at sukuna's jealousy/possessiveness, oral, needing to prep you for both his cocks, fingering you in front of the mirror, grinding, heavy size kink, sukuna is eight feet tall in his true form, sukuna has two dicks, Sukuna's stomach mouth is hungry for your pussy, extreme manhandling/holding you in the air to fuck you, begging, one slap, sukuna makes out with you a little

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ | 2.4k

Pouting at your screen and huffing, placing it face down and planting your face into the pillow. Only to pick your head back up when you hear,

“What’s all this shit?” Sukuna’s crimson eyes are zeroed in on the valentine's card, candies, and flowers on your desk. As he stands in the doorway of your balcony. The long curtains softly flutter next to him, hiding his half-naked body for moments at a time.

Avoiding the question, “Are you allergic to shirts?" It's hard to take your eyes off Sukuna's tanned thick pecs. When you do it's to ogle his six deeply outlined abs. And the v that vanishes into his pants.

He crosses your bedroom while suggesting, "Maybe I should start being allergic to pants too, let my cocks hang out since I don't wear underwear." Grabbing the bundle of roses by the bottom of the stem to hold them upside down.

Sniffing at them while wrinkling up his nose and furrowing his brows. Before dropping them roughly, making some petals fall off the buds. Sukuna eyes up the boxes of candy, and the card on your desk.

Quickly picking up the flowers, holding them to your chest. "Hey! They are still pretty flowers, I just need to get a vase for them." He rolls his eyes and grabs the card reiterating,

"What is this shit?" Closing the balcony door, and locking it. While sliding the thick, sun-blocking curtain shut. As you throw at him,

"Why does it matter?" Setting the flowers in front of the lamp, on your bedside table. As Sukuna drops the glamor hiding his true body. Causing you to blink a few times letting your eyes adjust to the drastic shift in appearence.

Pressing your thighs together, ignoring the wet, warm pulsing throb growing between your legs. As he grunts, "It's that persistent asshole scent lingering on the card. Pathetic gifts." He glances over at you and the corner of his lips twitch into a smirk. As he slams the card into the trash. Which you can't bring yourself to mourn the loss of.

Sukuna walks up to the edge of your bed. His large shadow falls over where you sit leaning against your large fluffy stuffed bear. And when he stretches out all four of his thick muscular arms. While his stomach's tongue drags along its bottom lip.

Your pussy clenches around nothing at the sight of it. It had to be the cause of whatever effect Sukuna posses, like his glamor. To make humans easier to approach for them to consume.

There is nothing wrong with admiring Sukuna. Something clearly inhuman, yet you hadn't dug into what he is. Figuring you shouldn't annoy him with the questions. Instead, you accepted that he will come around like your orange formerly feral stray cat.

Who you managed to get to warm up to you by using food. And now Mr.Cheese is a cuddly house cat. Only with Sukuna, you don't know what he wants just yet. If he wanted to eat you, he could have done so long ago.

Unless he likes playing with his food. Even so what type of fucking around is he doing with you?

Reaching across the bed, with his top left hand, grabbing your ankle. Yanking you down to the bottom of your bed, which Sukuna replaced the frame of after he broke it. When he sat down on it the first time.

His gaze is intense and unreadable as he snaps, "You're lost in your head. Don't tell me you're thinking about the little shit and his pathetic gifts." Furrowing your brows, and rolling onto your stomach.

Crawling away grumbling, "Doesn't matter." Sukuna loosely grabs your throat. While splaying his fingers on your lower back, pressing you into the bed. He groans,

"I can smell you soaking through your panties. Every time I come over your pussy starts dripping. That's why it matters, you're mine princess." Your pussy quivers at the nickname. As you whine,

"Please Sukuna. I want you, please. Don't get jealous, I'm your princess." You don't know what you're begging for. Only that a persistent frustrating desperate aching need for him is fueling you.

"Do you like that one? Do you want to be my pampered pretty princess? Who is guarded and fucked by her big scary monster?" Slipping his hand underneath your baggy shirt. Massaging your cheeks, as his fingers brush close to your clothed pussy.

Shifting your hips rubbing his fingers on your pussy. Grinding your hips back as Sukuna keeps his hand still. While you whimper out, "Fucked?!" You can't stop moving your hips. The friction is better than anything you've felt from touching yourself.

Bringing up to Sukuna, "I know that a man goes in a woman. And it makes a baby with the two parts touch. Why would you want to-" You stop as Sukuna's laughter gets louder as he drops his hand from your throat.

Your cheeks burn Sukuna flips you onto your back. Fixing you back underneath him while admitting, "You have my cocks rock hard desperately rubbing your pussy on my fingers." Pressing his palm on your pussy. His hand is large enough to cover everything.

Urging you to mimic your earlier actions, "Are you sure you want to stop?" His fingertips are just below your belly button. You couldn't get over the size difference. Especially when you were pressed against him cuddling in close during a scary movie.

Squeezing your legs around his hand while grinding your hips. The tingling pleasure from the friction builds a familiar tension in your gut. Which never seems to break no matter how much you try.

Sukuna's smile stretches into a smirk as he tells you, "We won't be making a crotch goblin. Princess, are you a virgin? Tell me I'm the first one to touch your pussy and I might go a little crazy." Sukuna is caging you in with his top arms, as he holds a fist full of your blanket.

Huffing, "So what of it?" Trying to act more attention than you are. As you keep rubbing your clit on his palm. He snickers,

"Defensive little princess aren't you? There is nothing wrong with how I'm going to be the only one to kiss, touch and fill your dripping pussy up." He pins your hips, keeping you from rubbing your clit on his palm.

"Hmm you don't know properly beg how-to for it just yet. Or even what it is, it seems. There are so many pleasurable depraved things I want to do to you, princess. And I want to hear you beg for every one of them." Your eyes widen as you plead,

"Please Sukuna. Whatever it is about you that is making me so wet. Maybe it's part of the glamor but it stays even while you're gone. And touching myself doesn't help." Slipping his fingers underneath your shorts and panties, ripping them off with ease.

"Wrong, that's all you princess. You're my sexy little monster who needs me to help her cum. Aren't you? " Dragging the tip of his stomach's thick tongue along your lips. The hot wet softness of his tongue has you loudly groaning,

"I'm your sexy little monster fucker. Please I want all of you, please! Fuck don't stop that feels so wonderful. Please. Please. I'll learn whatever you want me to, to keep you going." He flicks his tongue faster. As your moans become incoherent pleas.

Sukuna groans, "Mm you're a natural slut aren't you, good girl, keep begging like that. Telling how good I'm making my pretty little virgin pussy feel." Rubbing your clit faster as the tension builds mind spinningly quick.

Unable to handle the mounting pleasure you jerk your hips away. While whimpering, "Don't stop!" Depriving yourself of the pleasure you're craving. As Sukuna drags you back while crooning,

"So fucking hot that your virgin pussy is too sensitive to handle me. You want it so bad even though you can barely handle it. If that isn't the hottest thing. Your pussy must be as greed as you are." Ripping your shirt and dropping the scraps of your t-shirt onto the floor. Sliding one of his hands up your side, massaging your breasts. While the tongue of his hand flicks your nipple.

The soft suckling of the mouth on his hand, lazily rubbing your nipple. Sending sweet pleasure down into your clit. Stroking the tense coil winding inside your gut, tempting it to finally snap.

Reaching out, dragging your fingers over his hard pecs. Only to dig your nails into his chest. In all the times you rubbed your clit after Sukuna left you've never been this close before.

Rambling to Sukuna, "I have a greedy pussy who needs your monster cocks! Hold me down and make my pussy take it. Please I need you to ruin my pussy! Nng!" This warm slick gushes from your pussy soaking his stomach's tongue.

Sukuna wonders, "I wonder how many times you can cum before you're begging for me to stop. Or if you'll let me fuck you to sleep. I'll clean your body up and put an ice pack between your legs. Since your pussy is going to be sore after this." He pulls his stomach's large tongue away.

He grabs your phone off the bed, and takes a picture of your pleasure-drunk face. With his hand around your throat, posting it without a caption to your insta. Before showing you the picture, ""s pretty princess cum drunk wearing my hand like a collar."

Lost in the hazy high of your first time cumming you can't bring yourself to care about the picture. While Sukuna crouches in front of you, spreading your pussy lips apart to look inside of you. As he expresses,

"Your little pussy is going to look so hot painted white with my cum. Fuck she's spasming, squeezing 'round nothing, aching for me." Sukuna kisses your pussy before he stands up.

Stripping himself of his jeans and underwear. When you beg, "Need more of you, I want you to be my first everything." Sitting up, shifting closer to the edge of your bed. As your clit twitches from the sudden lack of stimulation after such intense attention.

Sukuna says, "I'm going to be your first and only princess. You're all mine princess, and I know you are going to be a good girl and learn how to take care of my cock. Aren't you?"

Dangling your legs off the bed as your eyes go wide. His cocks are at eye level when you're sitting down, glancing up at Sukuna only heightens your sense of how small you are in front of the nine-foot-tall beast that Sukuna is. Without his glamor concealing his form.

Dropping your gaze back down, his top cock is standing up. With its pointed tip, which thickens till it reaches a ridged part. Dragging your fingers tips along bumps along the bottom.

Leaning forward and softly kissing the bottom of his top head. "I'll take care of both your monster cocks with my pussy the best I can." Wrapping your hand around his top one, your fingertips don't touch. And Sukuna groans,

"My cock is already big but with your tiny hand around it, it's massive. Nng Princess, I love how you get wetter when I call you that. Nnng!" He grabs the back of your head, pushing you forward. While nudging his tip against your lips, as you open your mouth.

Instructing you, "Stick your tongue out, focusing on breathing through your nose, and don't let your teeth snag me." While pushing his cock deeper into his mouth. You barely fit his tip into your mouth. He is too thick.

Your eyes widen and tears start to blur your sight. Pulling away, dragging his cock along your stuck-out tongue. If not for the smallest point like a tip he wouldn't be able to fit into your mouth at all.

Grabbing his bottom cock with both hands as he groans, "That's it use both your hands to massage my monster cock princess." The bottom head is rounder, with a mushroom-like head.

Trailing your fingers down the veiny but otherwise smooth cock, till you meet a swelling knot at the base. Quickly thrusting his hips forward as he pushes your head. While fat tears roll down your cheeks as he sneers,

"Crybaby, your barely taking the tip. I guess your mouth is useless. Unless I-" He slips his cock out of your mouth. While grabbing your throat, cutting off any protests you have.

Letting go of Sukuna as he lifts you off the bed, holding you close to his face. Your feet dangle off the ground.

Sukuna leans in roughly bitting your bottom lip before kissing you. Slapping your ass roughly to make you gasp. So he can slip his tongue into your mouth. While he grabs your legs, folding and spreading your legs apart.

The tip of his stomach's thick tongue flicks your clit. Causing you to groan into Sukuna's mouth. As you follow along with how his soft tongue rubs yours.

Sukuna pulls away and reiterates, "Your mouth is too small to do much. Unless I'm trying to break your little neck with my cock my time ruining your little virgin pussy and ass, so no human shit could ever get you off the way I can." Whining at the loss of his tongue flicking your clit.

Begging Sukuna, "Ruin my pussy please teddy bear." You picked up the name since he turned into a cuddle monster during movies. With his massive body, you could easily lay on top of him. As he stretches out and hangs off your bed. Which is easily too small for him.

Turning your body around to face the heart-shaped mirror on your wall. Holding your legs open, displaying your wet pussy. While he tightens his grasp around your throat. A third hand cupping one of your breasts.

The teeth sink in as you try to cry and writhe. His three large hands holding you in place to render you to meer trembles. He moans while spreading your pussy open to get one last look at your virgin pussy he says,

"I'm about to make your dripping, sexy little pussy as fucked up as you are in the head. Am I your cuddly teddy bear, making you feel warm between your legs princess? I wonder what you'll call me after I make you watch yourself get fucked." Pushing one thick finger past your lips. As he loosens his grasp around your throat to hear you moaning.

tagging | @love-me-satoru @kanekisfavoritegf @deputy-videogamer @kimbo-army @killzenin @sillyalo @whatelsecouldgowrong @xxkay15xx @sherlockzss @im-a-killer-queen @watyousayin @stevelacyismyhusband

m.list | 31 days of kink

[byuljoonie]

A helping hand // jhs

Free you my heart 😪

pairing: dom!hobi x f!reader

genre: smut, drabble, unedited

word count: 360

warnings: cunnilingus

note: Happy Easter ig? Just something I wrote spur of the moment 😅

“Hoseok, please” you begged pathetically, a tear slipping down your already wet cheeks. You were trembling on the bed, your pink sheets soaked and messy.

“Please what, y/n?” He said sickeningly sweet, running his finger along the slit of your sensitive pussy. “Use your words pretty girl.”

He started kissing along the inside of your left thigh, chuckling at the exasperated breath you let out. Your body was spent, you were 3 orgasms in and practically limp.

“Can’t handle more, hobi” you mewled weakly, running your shaky hands through his disheveled hair. You tried pushing his head away from your body but he only resisted.

“Oh but you can, baby” he cooed, furrowing his brows in mock worry. He placed a hand on either of your shins, pushing your legs upward. He positioned himself closer to your waiting core. Listening attentively to your cute whines of desperation.

He leaned down licking a strip up your slit, kissing each side of your pussy lips. Eyeing your glistening cunt like a mad man, hobi peered up through hooded eyes. His long lashes casting a small shadow across his cheeks. Smiling at the sight of your ruined body, he lowered his head. Placing his nose directly on your pussy, inhaling loudly.

Your cheeks burned red, legs starting to ache in the tightly folded position he placed you in. He began tongue fucking you mercilessly. Obscene slurping noises filled the room, your whimpers turning into broken cries. You felt your arousal dripping down your legs continuously. The knot in your stomach forming almost immediately.

“Mmm—“ he hummed against your soaked core, moving away to take a quick breath. He didn’t waste another second diving back in. Spitting on your cunt in a swift motion.

“Whose pussy is this?” He questioned hotly. Using a free hand to rub across your pussy. He looked at you hungrily, milking another orgasm from you with his fingers. You felt your pussy clench around his fingers, repeatedly calling his name in response.

“So gorgeous,” he breathed heavily, watching your cunt contract around his idle fingers. He ran his fingers along your folds placing them in his mouth happily.

“Again?”

[adrift-in-thyme]

I've got so many wips rn and what do I do? Start something new. I'm hopeless. But how am I supposed to resist the chance to write more fairy Time? ;)

CW for blood and injury

----------------------------------------------------------------

He drags himself to the fountain.

The battle would have been difficult for nine heroes. For one — even one as experienced as himself — it had been nearly impossible. A fight hardly even worthy of being called a battle. 

No, Time thinks, grim and dizzy, as he digs his fingers into the dirt and attempts to sit up, it had been a pathetic struggle at best. He had barely escaped with his life. 

The Shadow, it seems, has a vendetta against him. Not that he doesn’t have one toward all of the Links, but…

Time’s efforts land him back on the ground, shuddering as wet coughs tear through him. 

…but it had felt like something beyond his usual distaste for the Heroes of Hyrule. As he had poured monster after monster through those cursed portals, as he had attacked with a sneer on his lips and a glint in his eyes, it had felt personal.

Perhaps, that is not so surprising. 

Wavering, Time grits his teeth. Blood trails down his chin. Its warmth is in stark contrast with the icy chill that has taken root in his bones. 

The Shadow’s sentiments hardly matter right now. It is not as though he could decipher them correctly if he wanted to. 

His thoughts are scattered and panicked, his body failing, his vision going gray. He is mere inches away from salvation, from safety, and his time is running out. 

Another stab of pain imprisons him in its steely grip. A muffled cry breaks through his tightly closed lips. His vision whites out for a moment, before returning fuzzy and distorted. 

Desperately, he reaches out. Trembling fingers slip, slick with blood and monster gore. He collapses with a small splash. 

The effect of the sacred water is instant. A ripple of magic runs through him, warm like a blanket and sweet like the sugar water he offers in hopes of regaining his fairy. In the next second, wings unfold from his back, his body shrinking to fit them.  

He slips fully into the embrace of the shallow waters. 

Time ends up on his side, liquid seeping in through the chinks in his armor and beading upon his wings. He blinks, slow and agonizing, trying to drag himself back to some semblance of awareness. But whatever delirious strength had born him here has fled and taken everything with it.

The water flows around him, glittering and cool. Gently, it soothes his injuries, carefully, it numbs them. But it’s not enough. He knows that now.

This fountain has been weakened. This fountain has no fairies left — save for himself — to imbue it with blessed strength.

No doubt, the monsters have driven them away. He can feel their distress, can imagine their flight, away from here and the encroaching darkness of evil and night.

Time gazes at the surrounding trees. They are mere shadows now, hazy and grayish. Twilight is long gone, bringing with it its brilliant purples and pinks and oranges. Storm clouds cloak the usual speckling of stars and block out the dismal light of the moon.

Not that Time minds that. Without its depressive glare, he feels calmer. 

If he has to fade away, he would rather do so beneath an angry sky, curled in the fountains that have always been his haven, in the form he feels most comfortable in. The form he cannot comprehend, yet treasures all the same. 

The waters turn black with his blood, feathery wisps of it floating out and away from him. He watches it with disinterest. Everything feels far away now. Even his need to survive, to return to Malon. 

He tries to grasp for it, to bring it back to the forefront of his mind. But his efforts are for naught. And what good would it do him anyway? He is too weak to move. He spent his remaining energy on the desperate gamble of stumbling here. Hoping, praying that the magic he felt calling him was still active. Was still alive.

Something rustles in the bushes. A creature, most likely, scampering about, unperturbed by his wavering presence. He is so small now he would be surprised if anyone could see him. Or hear him.  

His blood, however, is another matter altogether. Who knows what beasts have tracked the scent? 

He shifts slightly and a groan slips out before he can stop it. It doesn’t matter though. Whatever horrors seek him cannot measure up to the pain he is already enduring. The Shadow has the power to turn one’s own body against them. No wolf or bear has that ability.  

Something large and dark emerges from the shadowy foliage. Piercing blue eyes glare into his. Time tries to focus on them, tries to decipher their strange familiarity. But the world seems off-kilter, pain turns everything distant. 

I’m sorry, Malon. He thinks as the form moves toward him, looking to his fading eye almost like the clouds that hover above them. I’m sorry that I broke my promise.

And pup…I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.

“Time?” He hears the voice from very, very far away, growled more than spoken, a rumble like thunder before a downpour of rain. It cracks at the end, splintering like his bones when the Shadow had swung his sword too high, too fast for him to evade.

Time wants to drag himself up, wants to comfort this being he is certain he knows. But he lacks the strength to so much as raise a finger. 

And when he is lifted with a gentleness he cannot comprehend, when something soft and warm envelopes him, something that murmurs, “safe” in tones he knows — he doesn’t even attempt to break free.

If this is death, it is wonderful. ---------------------------------

He must lose himself soon after that. Because when he opens his eye it is an act of awakening, surfacing from the unfeeling deep. 

Time stirs, sighing as that same warmth of before embraces him. The pain that had torn him apart has dulled greatly, leaving behind only a ghost of what it once was. And though he isn’t certain why it’s gone — or even if that is a good omen or bad one — he can’t truly bring himself to care. 

He is comfortable here, drifting in this haze of dark, and he doesn’t want to disturb it. It has been so long since he felt like this (perhaps, since the start of the heroes’ journey). It has been so long since he slept, actually slept. 

“Old man?”

Something damp and cool nudges at him. His bed of plush fur (fur? His mind questions blearily) quivers at the movement. 

“Hey, old man. Can you hear me?” 

Time hums, a low sound that grates on his abused throat. 

A sigh of relief. His sanctuary shifts again. 

“Thank Hylia. I thought we’d…I thought…”

Time frowns. There it is again — that voice he knows, usually so strong and joyful, not shattered like broken panes of glass. The voice that ignites something in him, a protective instinct as strong as he feels toward Malon. The voice that reminds him of their love and the miracle that will come of it.

Reluctantly, he drags his eye open. 

At first, he can make out very little. But a few blinks and his vision clears enough that he can see the thick gray fur that surrounds him. He is nestled on Twilight’s back, he realizes, sluggishly, situated so his pup can keep an eye on him, even reach him if he cranes his neck. 

Those crystal blue orbs meet his and there is something broken in them. Time has never seen such emotion in a wolf’s eyes before.

“I thought I’d lost you.” 

He shouldn’t be able to understand that sorrowful growl, and yet, Time can hear the words as clear as day. 

That…is a mystery he will decipher later.

“‘M sorry, pup,” he croaks. His wings flutter gently. “‘M sorry.”

Twilight must have found him lying there in his own blood, hardly clinging to life. To have come upon such a sight…

Guilt wells within him. Time swallows against it.

Twilight shakes his proud head. 

“You can’t scare me like that. I can’t even scold ya like you can me.” He narrows his eyes. “Not that that’s gonna stop me from trying.”

Time huffs an attempt at a laugh. “I don’t…don’t doubt that.” He grows somber once more. He feels unconsciousness tugging at him again. But before he falls, he must at least say this. “You saved me. You shouldn’t-shouldn’t have had to. But I thank you for it.”

Twilight gazes at him for a long moment. “Of course. I love you, old man. Malon loves you. I never would’ve left you there. I never even entertained the thought. So, no thanks are necessary.” He cocks his head. “Although, gotta admit I’m a little sore about the fairy secret.”

Time resists the urge to roll his eyes. “You keep your own transformation a secret. Why…why should I not keep mine?”

“Oh, you can keep it from everyone else if you want. Just not from me.”

“What makes you s-so special?”

“I’m your descendant,” Twilight answers drily. “So, how do you do it? This isn’t an after-effect of what they…what happened to you…is it?”

Time shakes his head. “No,” he murmurs, struggling to stay alert. “I’ve always been able to do this.”

Twilight is silent for a moment. Then, “I came across a stray fairy when I was trying to get you back to camp. She was the one who healed you. She called you a child of the fairies. Not ‘brother’ like Hyrule. Their child.”

Time stares dazedly at the shrubbery surrounding them. They have always called him that. Even Tatl had. But hearing it now, from Twilight, raises new questions. Questions he supposes have always been there, hovering in the back of his mind. But that he has never bothered to ponder. 

The quiet stretches and Time can’t decide how to break it. So, he merely lets it be and snuggles deeper into Twilight’s fur, suddenly immeasurably grateful that his descendant’s secondary form is a wolf.

Powerful and gentle in equal parts. It fits his pup well. 

“But never mind that now,” Twilight says, as though sensing Time’s exhaustion. He sighs. “You need your rest. You comfortable up there, old man?”

Time nods. “Soft,” he mumbles, drowsily. 

Twilight nuzzles him again and humor is in the movement.  

“Good. Go to sleep then. I’ll watch over you.” His tone grows serious, unyielding. “Nothing will touch you while I’m here.”

A slight smile lifts the edges of Time’s mouth, even as a voice cries out within him, protesting this display of weakness, this terrible burden he has put on his descendant. But he is so, so tired. Too tired to rise and be the stalwart leader he knows he should be. 

His wings spread flat upon his back, like a shield. Darkness crowds his vision, numbing his thoughts and weighing down his still-sore limbs. 

“Thank you, pup,” he whispers, with what little strength he has left. 

He is gone before he can hear Twilight’s reply.

[xythlia]

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎 — 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓

kinktober week two | biting | vampire!satan x f!reader

What Goes Bump In The Night week two is here! The theater two showing is all about vampires, so when those fangs are bared make sure your necks are too~

› you're a caged bird, no hope of faith or flight to save you from the beast that holds you in an iron grip. But do you even want to be saved?

› warnings : ambiguous 18th century setting, biting, vampire au, blood/blood consumption, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, use of pet, sacrilege/religious themes, mention of killing, reader has hair long enough for it to get in their face, noncon, cervix fucking, creampie, choking

› word count : 3k+

🔪 what goes bump in the night?

The human mind possesses a remarkable ability to adapt.

You had quit marking time here long ago, it only served to drive you deeper into despair and slowly it became clear the only choice left was to make the best of being trapped in this rotted cathedral. So be it. Things became less horrid once that shifted inside you, he was kinder for one. Less bouts of intense rage although it wasn't perfectly remedied by your obedience and you suspected the real source of his rage was his own despair at knowing there was no solution for what he was. He also allowed you more freedom of movement, though only within this decrepit place.

You also suppose it makes sense he would choose this place to be a prison, for both of you. What you don't understand however, is his would be devotion to a being that did not create him nor hold any love for him.

"Leave me." Satan greeted you. His eyes never even moved to you, it almost made you feel miffed he couldn't even be bothered to properly rebuke you.

"I didn't even know you were here," you lied. He's always here. Always in the shadow of this altar when he's not slipping into your bedroom, attempting to find a much different form of salvation. This place was obviously once resplendent, but years of abandonment have reduced portions to rubble. This main part of the cathedral was nothing more than a half cracked maw, sucking in the freezing night air.

"I couldn't sleep," you muttered, maybe more to the neglected pews than to him.

You both knew you were lying, his acknowledgement coming in the form of a bland hmph. It was strange, you hated and reviled him especially when he would lurk into your room at night but something you couldn't really describe would rear it's head as an ache for him. You were now wholly dependent on him and you loathed him for it.

When those venomous eyes finally train on you it nearly makes you reconsider. Coming to him like this was a mistake, especially if you don't tred carefully-

"Maybe I should use you to sate my own desires," he cuts off your train of thought. "How wretched you are. You call me beast more times than I can count, yet you sulk into this place wanting to be bed by said beast." He sneered, tone shot full of mocking. You were caught out.

A pit opened in your stomach, but it wasn't unpleasant. No, it was a funny mixture of desire and disgust. He was right, though that would never pass your lips.

So you decide to lie again, even though you know he can practically taste the desire wafting from you, knew you were wet the moment you walked in.

"That's not what I want from you-"

"Then leave!" He practically snarls and you wish you had the nerve to strike him. He knows perfectly well you can't leave, could never leave. He tore you away in the night from all you ever had, all you ever knew and dropped you into this decaying church because try as he might he can never resist what he is.

Your own lips curl into a snarl. "You're nothing but a pathetic creature that would spend all of his eternity knelt for a god that deafens its ears to him."

You don't stop even as he rises to stand, every movement radiating aggression as he comes closer to you. You want to hurt him even a fraction of how badly he's hurt you, the ugliness of it twines together with your arousal, twin snakes squirming in your belly.

"You're pathetic. You know no god will ever look at you in joy so you capture women, cage them and break them so at least someone will gaze at you in sick adoration-"

The words die as a garbled sound of pain as his hand grips your throat, pushing you forcefully against a half rotted support beam. The position was oddly intimate, allowing you to smell the tang of the dust that had settled on him from spending hours in that repentant pose. That shameful arousal spiked inside your gut at the way he bared those fangs at you, the way he held you in place by your neck.

"Aren't you the one gazing in adoration, pet?"

The stone floor suddenly at your back was roughly fractured in sharp contours, horribly uncomfortable but it mattered not. You blinked away the start of tears in your eyes at the breathtaking sensation of being laid out flat, you always forgot about his strength when enough time passed but his small display of violence was thrilling to you in a vile way, so was the pain.

All of Satan's focus was zeroed on you as he hunched above your trembling body. The look on his face was dark, making your thighs squeeze together in a way you wish didn't happen. His flaxen hair was haloed by the cracks of moonlight from the crumbling ceiling,for a millisecond you swear he looked like one of those stained glass depictions of an angel.

"Please not here," you squeaked out.

"What? Are you afraid god will strike you down?" He asked, then whispered, "Do you really think he cares? He has yet to save you."

You swallowed thickly, noting how his eyes tracked the movement with their overblown pupils. This was a terrible idea, one you regretted now but it was too late. You'd poked the bear until claws came out and there's no asking for them to be retracted.

In the tense quiet he brushed a stray strand of hair from your forehead, the act so gentle, so intimate it nearly made you forget that you were but a meal and a thing to fuck. The faint stench of old blood brought you back to reality, knowing it came from his hands.

So, his faux repentance was prompted by another killing. It always is.

That blood-crusted hand glided down the column of your throat, making you flinch. You could tell by the hardening of his eyes that it was the wrong involuntary action to have, but there was no taking it back. That hand dipped inside your neckline to trace the curve of a breast before stilling above your heart.

"You're always so afraid," he said. It sounded almost regretful. "You know I don't mean to hurt you?"

"I don't." You whimpered. Finally a portion of truth. For all his occasional nicety it always wound back around to pain. A pain you got used to, tolerated, even sought out such as tonight, but you could never ever be sure that he would never hurt you.

He laughed and it was a mad sound, ricocheting off the cold indifferent stone and making you flinch again.

"You're just as detestable as I am, do you know that? Skulking in, acting on your own shameful desires, pretending you're not. Pretending you don't enjoy this little dance we do." His speech was coming out hard, rapidly. "I could tear you into shreds, leave nothing but ichor and parts and there's nothing you could ever do to stop me."

It was sick, how delighted he looked as you shrank against the floor. Even now your defiant streak became prevalent.

"You won't kill me," but you hardly sounded sure.

"Would you like to test it?"

You clenched your jaw, staying silent, although your trembling worsened.

Before you realized it he was leaning back, icy hands moving down violently to rip at the linen trousers you wore and horror washed over you. Horror that this was no longer a scathing back and forth, and that this time he really might make good on killing you.

"What are you doing- stop!" You cried out in dread but his movements didn't falter, no matter how much you struggled against him pulling at the fabrics of your clothes until the seams tore, leaving your cunt bare to his gaze and your ass to the bite of the frozen stone floor.

You yelped in pain as he tugged you down, scraping your back against the stone and raised your legs up, propping them on his shoulders in a hardened grip. Terror kept you locked in place even when his hands disappeared, fumbling with his own waistband looking down you saw how erect he was in his hand. Thick and tip dripping precum as you feel him smear it between your folds, and you bite down hard on your lips in anticipation of fresh pain.

As he roughly guided himself inside you struggled anew, crying out from the unprepared stretching as his girth forced your muscles and slick walls to part. Something like lust overcame you as you felt him fit fully inside, the head of his cock brushing against your cervix. It made you go limp, a gasped sob rising from your chest as he pushed your legs up against your breasts before forcefully placing your hands to hold the backs of your thighs.

His movements started slow, his breathing ragged feeling you clench around him. When he started thrusting with more vigor the back of your head scraped painfully against the floor, making you yelp as cool tears pooled in the shell of your ears from sliding down your cheeks. It hurt, the way it always did and brought a dull pounding pain that flowed through your entire body.

It was raw, being fucked into jagged stone with no consideration from the man sucking and nipping at your skin. A mockery of intimacy, but in a repulsive way it sustained you. Feeling his balls smack against the fat of your ass, gasping his name in broken syllables, feeling his fingers slip down to prod at your clit; it guaranteed your survival.

As you shift to wrap your arms around his neck an aggressive sound leaves him. All the pain made your back arch, trying to escape the ground while at the same time providing him a deeper reach that brought a burst of ecstasy to you. Pain and pleasure intensely mixed and muddled your mind as your body jostled with his cruel pace. Whatever pain there was would be rewarded, there was solace in that.

With no space between you that scent of iron and rot returned, pairing with the smell of your own acrid sweat and his golden hair tickled your cheek as he bit down with intent this time.

The wail that rang against the unfeeling cathedral left you unbidden, an animalistic response to the searing, nearly blinding pain of teeth sinking into your flesh. Sobs left you in ripping spurts, your nails clawing at his back but it did little to stop him. His pace never broke, if anything the way he circled your clit only picked up speed and your cunt spasmed around him.

It was strangely beautiful, feeling yourself coming undone and slipping away as your eyes never left the gap of starlight breaking through the musty darkness from the vaulted ceiling. The pain was ebbing away too, like a hazy afterimage that you couldn't hold onto. Faintly you knew the wet warmth seeping against your skin was your own blood, he always is a sloppy eater after all. It makes you crack a small smile, and distantly you know you look insane: fucked out, bloody, yet smiling up to the sky while he doesn't stop pumping into you, doesn't stop sucking and grunting against your skin. A barbaric display beneath the unsympathetic eye of the moon.

Though there is a happiness in knowing the dance ended the way it always does. That tomorrow you'll wake up, sore and feeling sick, but alive still.

As your eyes flutter closed and you go limp in his hold something shifts, though you're no longer awake to catch it. To him this suffering of eternal existence would perhaps be lessened if you were also eternally present, and without your current fragility.

Thick spurts of cum flood your throbbing cunt with his last sloppy thrusts as he keeps drinking, past his fill and past the point of no return. You'll wake much, much later as little more than a fledgling beast with base instincts but it thrills him to think of your anguish once you regain a sense of self.

Whatever poison you spit at him as a human would pale in comparison to what will surely leave your mouth once you realize what he's done to you. But snapping that iron will of yours a second time will taste even sweeter than you do at this moment.

[xxnghtclls]

Permission

Chapter 31

(Chapter 30; Chapter 32)

True Form Sukuna x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Graphic Depiction Of Violence

Please see Chapter 1 for tags! Permission

Someone Special

„I love you.“

Minutes passed since he vanished, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to look away, hoping you would maybe spot his crimson orbs in the shadows. You whisper, still staring into the empty darkness, knowing he can’t hear the words you were too nervous to tell. But you wait. And you’re not disappointed. There it is.

Like an echo of your longing in his head, he answers with a squeeze on your heart.

It’s him.

If he knows about his effect on your heart?

Does he talk to you in your absence, too?

Flames still crackling right next to your feet, as you keep staring on the spot you saw his shadow last.

These words he whispered in your ear, so honest and gentle, so… pathetic. It makes you smile.

What a cute bastard, you think to yourself while remembering his words about him getting angry just because you left his chambers. Truly pathetic.

He knew he wasn’t going to see me for a while.

You sigh and decide to sit back down in front of the fire, fiddling with the remaining apple in your hands, you keep getting lost in thoughts about him.

He kissed me…

He likes to be around me…

What if the King of Curses not only needs to be in your vicinity because of the curse he put on you, but also because he likes you? Truly… likes you? Not just your devotion, obedience or pussy. Not just because you’re his, but because you’re…

you.

What if his kind of curse is similar to yours? A curse so similar to the feeling of love, you don’t know which is which or if it’s the same.

You shake your head at your thoughts and lay down, drawing circles in the dirt in front of you.

He’s the King of Curses, he should know…

You close your eyes and try to put yourself back into the moment with him, while you sat there wrapped into his arm, wondering if he’s ever been in love.

“I apologise for the headache…” you whisper “my love.”

And with a responding ache in your heart, you fall asleep.

Knock

Knock

Knock

Dark, grey clouds of the late evening paint the sky, as you stand in front of the shrine, waiting for Uraume to open the heavy door.

Luckily, your way back wasn’t as eventful as your previous journey. Whenever you were about to cross a burned village, you decided to take a detour and walk around it, kept yourself hidden in the forest and thicket. Every step you took made you miss him more, made the heartache worse whenever it appeared. Knowing now that it’s not only your longing but also his, made it easier for you, soothing almost. Knowing, that he thought of you, too.

Your journey home took a bit longer, five days instead of three thanks to the detours, but you came back safe and sound, just like you promised Uraume.

The locks cackle and the door opens. A hint of relief is seen in Uraume’s eyes as they see you standing there, your face still not fully clean and the bruise still decorating your cheek.

“Did you find him?” they ask with anticipation in their voice. You exhale sharply, before tears pool in your eyes and you nod with a smile on your face. Uraume exhales and quickly puts their hand on your shoulder, motioning you to come in.

“I didn’t tell the others you were gone. But they definitely suspect it.” they say quietly, as you follow them through the halls. The other girls seem to be in their quarters already. Good for you, but you prepare yourself to be questioned by one or the other.

After arriving in your chambers, you carefully place the dagger and the bow and one arrow right next to your futon, earning an unreadable look from Uraume before they excuse themself to go into the kitchen. You thank them and while waiting for them, you take the chance to clean yourself off the remaining dirt and sweat thats stuck to your body. The bruise on your cheek still hurts and you hiss in pain when the wet cloth swipes over the damaged skin, as well as your burned knuckles.

After what seemed like an hour, Uraume comes back with a bowl.

Hot steam of a miso soup hits your nose and you blow to cool it a little before you take a sip. They must’ve just prepared it for you.

“He sent you back here.” they say quietly, looking out of the window of your room. You swallow your first sip.

“Yes. He is right about that, though.” you answer while blowing some more.

“He always is.” Uraume continues, their words making you smile at their trust to him. “How did he react?”

The hot bowl in your hands warms your heart as well, as you recall what happened.

“I met him on the battlefield. He was angry.” you huff quietly. “Never saw him so pissed before.”

Uraume nods, still looking out of the window.

A pause.

Your lips continue to move, first without sound. Your eyes quickly shoot to Uraume and back to the soup. A few seconds pass until you pick up the courage to say it.

“Then he kissed me.” you confess quietly with a beating heart.

Another pause.

Hearing no reaction from Uraume, you look up. They still look out the window, a hint of a content smile on their lips, as they seem to be in thought. Relief spreads in your gut, as they don’t seem to be affected in a negative way by what you just said. They almost seem… happy about it.

You take another sip of your soup.

“And your heartache?” they ask.

“Didn’t stop.” you answer. “But I think I can handle it better now.” They nod.

“I understand.”

“Thank you, Uraume.” you say sincerely. They turn around and make their way to the door of your chambers.

“Now that you’re back like you promised, you can get back to work in the morning.” their voice back to a more strict tone. You smile.

“I will. Thank you.” you assure them, before they leave your chambers.

The sound of a door sliding shut.

You’re alone again.

Silence.

A soft pull at your heart makes you put your hand on your chest.

“Shhh” you try to soothe it. You’re more than relieved to know the nature of this heartache, doesn’t make you scared anymore.

Laying down, you start to hum Sukuna’s melody and hum yourself to sleep with it.

Until…

the heartache wakes you up, ripping you out of your slumber, feeling more intense than usual. There’s a different note to it, almost feels like anger.

“What’s wrong?” you whisper to yourself as you hiss and bend in pain.

Why does it feel similar to that night back in december?

You try to forget and not remember what you heard that night, before you ran away. Breathing slowly, you try to soothe yourself, try not to worry, try to remember you’re his, the words he said and his lips on yours. Your heart is beating in your throat, while the pain reaches it’s peak and slowly decreases again. Sitting up, you drink a sip from the remaining broth next to your futon. The pain eases itself and you’re exhausted, sliding back into your sheets.

You wake up at sunrise. A heavy weight in your heart, but no pain.

Just come back to me.

You decide to get up quickly in order to pick up your work where you left off, not wanting to risk to piss off Uraume after they did you such a big favour.

Changing back into your kimono, you go out into the halls, fetching that bucket and sponge from the chamber. Your feet bring you outside into the garden to get some water. Looking around, you notice, that some of the bushes need a trimming and weeds spread in the ground too. Somehow you’re pleasantly surprised to see, that soon there will be other work for you, than just cleaning floors and cabinets. You’ve missed this garden.

Before you go to the well, you make your way through the garden to Sukuna’s chambers and slide his door open. While you’re at it, you hear a splash from behind you.

Oh no.

You turn around and see the maid who gave you the bowl of rice before Sukuna went to war. It’s not the last person you wanted to see, but seeing no person at all would’ve been better. Despite everything she’s done for you, caring for you when you were sick and giving you food when you needed, you’re careful to trust her.

Better don’t overshare, you think, as you brace yourself for a conversation. She’s fetching water from the well, as you make your way to her.

“You’re back.” she says, a hint of a smile on her lips. “Again.”

You sigh.

“I am.” you avoid her gaze.

“Don’t be too upset that I know. It was too obvious that Uraume didn’t ask us for those special food preparations anymore.” she says.

“Yea, well I guess they have better things to do.” you answer and she hums in agreement.

“Did you really think we would poison you?”

“I still do.” you answer with a smile while scratching some dirt off the stones of the well, making her sigh.

A pause. Wind moves the naked branches of the trees. Both of you watch the branches dance.

“They really let you go after him.” she says in thought, before she turns to you. “Did he do this?” she motions to the bruise on your cheek. You frown in disbelief.

“No?”

She hums, while you let down your own bucket.

Splash.

She huffs to herself.

“You truly must be someone special.” she smiles.

Here we go.

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean?” she asks. “Princess, are you really asking me that?” her tone shifts into an accusing one.

You look at her in confusion and open your mouth.

So it wasn’t a coincidence.

“We know.” she says before you can voice anything. “The blind girl told us everything she heard, while you enjoyed his dicks on the throne, when she had the insides of her eyes running down her face.”

She makes it sound like it was your fault and you turn your gaze away.

“He uses pet names all the time.” you brush it off. “Probably wasn’t the first one he fucked on that throne and I most surely wasn’t the first one to stay in my lane instead of helping some stranger. I don’t know what you’re getting at.”

You feel her tensing up at your words, while you’re heaving up your bucket full of water.

“You really don’t know do you?” she asks, making you look at her in confusion.

“Know what?”

“I know I’ve told you, that he has favourites… but this is different. I’ve never seen him doing anything for anyone, yet he vanishes for days just to bring your jealous ass back into this shrine. Others ran away before and he just let them die and rot outside these walls, not moving an inch for them. I’ve never heard him call a maid anything other than bitch or slut. He most probably doesn’t even remember our names, if he even asked. I’ve never heard of anyone being allowed to act so freely around him like I saw you do during the audience. You’re allowed to look at him, to touch him. Just like that, without asking first. She said he told you to look at him after he asked you to ride him?” her voice breaks a little. “He pushes our faces into the sheets while he fucks us from behind as if we are a piece of meat.”

What?

The ground beneath you seems to slip away. You have a hard time to comprehend what she’s saying. Yes, you did think you were special, one of his favourites, but not in this way. Not at all. Not even with the curse he put on you.

If this is true, then he really might be…

“If he just uses you as a piece of meat, why do you continue to worship him then?” you ask, making her huff, her eyes growing wet.

“You already know the answer to that. He makes you feel wanted in a sick and twisted and addicting way. However, that changed when you came along. He started to neglect us. Now everyone is fucking with each other even when he’s here, seeking the company of our King with each others bodies.”

“It’s not my fault.” you whisper, while she keeps talking.

“So please tell me.” her voice turns sincere “What are you to him?” her eyes pierce into yours, desperate for an answer.

A pause.

You don’t know what to tell her and nervousness spreads in your gut and face. She notices and her eyes widen, as if it clicked in her mind.

“He kissed you.” she adds in a whisper.

Your breath hitches, not sure what to say, not knowing what this is supposed to mean, feeling like she caught you redhanded. A stressed look paints your face, hearing all she says, hearing all the things he’s done for you presented like his dinner on a plate, before you regain control.

“I don’t know what I am to him.” you finally say, so sincere, hoping she would understand. “But he is everything to me.”

She nods, before you continue.

“I am his.”

“So he claimed you.” she whispers. “Telling you the words everyone yearns to hear but never did.”

Never did?

Your heart is pounding and you shake your head in confusion.

“What do those words mean if he hasn’t spoken the words that I yearn to hear.” you answer, trying to play it down. “I am his, but he isn’t mine.”

“Sometimes…” she says calmly, while stepping away from you. “…words don’t need to be spoken to be true.”

An ache in your heart, as you muster her face, seeing that her very heart seems to be broken and you can’t help to feel sorry for her. Reaching out, you grab her hand to stop her. You feel a lump in your throat.

“Why do you condemn me for his actions?” you whisper desperately. She looks at you for a moment, before she speaks.

“Because being in your place is something we all sought and now because of you, we won’t find it here either.” she answers, slipping her hand out of yours.

You’re stunned, while she leaves without saying another word. Again, you’re reminded that they’re not just angry and jealous, but also heartbroken. Everyone came here with their own story, so similar and yet so different to yours, seeking a place to belong, only to be disappointed again. Disappointed by a man which energy is so addicting and gravitating. You know how it feels. You know it so well.

And you feel sorry, because you understand.

Some tears are dripping down your face, while you force yourself to understand, that there’s nothing you can do about it. If you are truly what she accuses you to be, if you are truly the only one he desires, his love, then you won’t give up what you achieved. You lived your whole life after the likes of everyone around you, needing to place your needs and wants below everything else to survive.

You just want to be you. To be truly you. To be with him. And if it’s true, if you made him fall in love with being you, if the King of Curses truly fell in love with you, then so be it.

You stand there a few minutes, thinking about the conversation you just had, picking at the old wood of the bucket, before you take it and walk into Sukuna’s chamber.

While you’re scrubbing his floor and clean his room, you keep thinking about the things she said about him. How rough he’s been to others, how gentle he is to you.

Telling me and only me “you’re mine”?

You remember what he said before he even fucked you the first time, how he ridiculed you for wanting him to claim and fuck you. Then how needy he ordered you to ask him to be his, while he was balls deep in your holes. The way he called you a fool in the very night you ran away. You didn’t know. But it’s true.

I was a fool.

I was special from the very beginning.

Why?

Your heart starts aching and it continues while you finish to clean his room.

I want to talk to him.

Come back.

You finish cleaning the halls and throne room as well. No one cleaned here in your absence, which you are happy about, because there is actual dust to clean off the floor and walls. A rumble in your stomach reminds you of a mortal need you wish not to have.

Hunger.

You decide to finish your work for today and make your way into the kitchen. There’s no way you can live like this, in fear. If it’s true what she said, then if they hurt you, he’s going to hurt them too.

At least you hope he would.

You’re building up the courage to face those heartbroken souls.

I can’t live like this until he comes back.

With a heavy beating heart, your trembling hand raises to knock at the kitchen door.

Knock

Knock

Knock

No response, however you heard maids being inside.

You brace yourself and slowly open the door. Everyone stops what they’re doing. The bitch is there, as well as the maid you talked to earlier and three others, including the blind one, which you haven’t seen since it all happened.

Silence.

“What are you doing here?” the bitch speaks.

“Who’s there?” the blind one asks.

“The princess.” you and the bitch say simultaneously, making her frown in surprise.

“Listen.” you continue. “I’m sorry for how Master Sukuna treats you. And I understand why you’re pissed at me. I really do and I would be, too. Hell, I would even contemplate to poison me, if I were you.” your words make the bitch cock her eyebrows at you. “However, even if that’s not your intention, I know I’m a fucking burden for you. I will avoid crossing paths with you. Uraume won’t ask you for food again. I only ask you to let me use the kitchen after sunset.”

Silence.

Your right hand fiddles nervously with the fabric of the sleeve of your kimono, while you stare into everyone faces, waiting for an answer.

The lips of the bitch turn into a curl before she bursts out laughing. Another maid joins her. The rest stays silent. After a moment you nod and turn around, ready to leave.

“Fine.” the maid who you talked to earlier suddenly says, cutting off the hysterical laughter.

“No way.” the bitch exclaims, while you turn back around. The bitch is looking in disbelief at the maid.

“Shut up.” she says, silencing the bitch. “If she is to Master Sukuna what she seems to be, letting her starve in his absence may not be the wisest decision.”

The bitch slams her fist on the table and gets up, stomping her way past you and spitting on the ground right next to you.

The maid gets up as well and walks right up to you.

“I understand you, too.” she says quietly and it surprises you. “I allow you to use the kitchen after sunset. Only after sunset.” something intimidating in her voice but you try to brush it off.

“Thank you.” you say, before walking out.

You held your word and so did they.

After sunsets you would sneak into the kitchen, even trying not to use too many ingredients that were stored there, to make yourself a small meal. There was no need to talk to Uraume about the food, since you were actually feeding yourself and not losing weight.

Sometimes there were not many ingredients left and you blamed the bitch for hiding some of it on purpose. It would get hard to work during the day with an empty stomach. Sometimes the day seemed to get longer and longer the more hungry you got.

That’s why you started to take apples with you, only to have something to snack on in the morning. And all in all, it worked. You survived, without losing too much weight, staying healthy at least.

Sometimes you would cross paths with another maid and when you did, you looked away, going into the other direction, minding something else first. You tried your best to avoid everything and everyone. Just waiting for a better time.

Sometimes the heartache grew unbearable again, making you unable to work. However, the heartache itself didn’t crush you the way it did before you went to seek him out. Knowing the true nature of it now, you stayed calm. Sometimes you hummed his melody to soothe yourself. And maybe him, too.

To your luck, Uraume let your painful days slide, knowing how bad it could be for you. And you tried your best not to disappoint them, getting up as soon as you could to fulfill your duties. Sometimes the heartache pierced through your chest. This bad and angry pain, that reminds you of that night. Five times it pierced through you, you kept counting, because it was so painful and different. You didn’t tell Uraume, knowing their powers couldn’t change anything anyway.

And sometimes you would cry yourself to sleep, begging him to come home to you. To put and end to all this waiting. To just be there with you.

Soon you could start working in the garden again, cutting off branches and pulling out weeds like you used to. You liked this type of work more than cleaning. Keeping the garden fresh and neat.

And you waited and waited.

Sometimes you even dreamed of seeking him out again. Without the purpose of coming back. Just leaving it all behind. With him. But you didn’t.

You waited and waited. Day after day.

That was what your life became. Waiting for him. In this shithole of shrine.

And you waited and waited. Bearing your heartache and his.

For two more months you waited.

April came upon you, the weather got better and the cherry trees in the garden started to bloom. The grass got greener, the water in the pond clearer, painting reflections of the sunlight on the wooden bridge that is hovering over the surface.

Snip.

You’re cutting off a branch that’s growing too far into the space that takes up Sukunas door. Today you feel empty.

How much longer?

A thing you ask yourself every single day.

Snip.

Another branch.

Snip.

Another.

You have asked Uraume if it would be possible to get some Nishikigois for the pond. They didn’t seem to happy about your request, since those are pretty expensive, but they agreed to consider it. That was a week ago and you wonder, if they have decided yet.

You look up and watch the sunlight fall through the pink blossoms of the cherry trees, the very same pink shade of the hair you cut a few months ago.

Heartache.

A soft breeze lets the branches move and the light dances even more between the spaces of those pink blossoms. You inhale the fresh air and continue your day, snacking here and then on an apple you took with you last night. The sun wanders and another day without him returning passes. The sky paints itself in multiple shades of red and yellow during the sunset and you sigh, closing the doors to his chambers.

Suddenly you hear a loud noise from the halls. Something heavy falling on the floor. Out of instinct you rush inside, not considering that it has to be one of the other maids, you pledged to avoid contact with. But maybe a part of you hoped it would be Sukuna.

You run inside, only to see the bitch laying on the floor, an empty wooden bucket running a slow circle right next to her. She must’ve tripped on the damp floor you cleaned a few minutes ago. You hesitate, contemplate about helping her. She looks up and sees you.

“Fuck.” she curses under her breath, before looking away again.

“Do you need help?” you calmly ask her.

She groans in pain and slowly gets back on her feet. Considering her missing response to you, you turn on your heels in order to walk back to your chambers.

“Wait.” she says breathlessly. You stop.

“Sorry for not drying the floor. I didn’t expect someone to walk these halls at this time.” you say without turning around.

“Shut up.” she growls, making your eyes roll.

“What is it?” you turn around, finally facing her.

“I noticed something.” she smiles at you with a smile that you want to rip out of her face. You cock your eyebrows at her.

“You’re looking good. I haven’t seen you in a while, but apparently only being allowed in the kitchen once a day after sunset doesn’t do you much harm.” she says, acting like she truly admires your looks. “Even when nothing much was left, you are holding up pretty good. Look at that shiny hair!” she continues, touching a strand of your hair, making you shy away from her. You’re tensing up at her words, trying to ignore her remarks.

“Did you take so much care of yourself, hoping that Sukuna will still cherish you after all this time? Call you pretty maybe?”

“What are you talking about?” you frown at her.

“Oh you didn’t know?” she giggles, taking a step closer to you. “You know… hehe and I do know that you know: Our King grows bored of individuals pretty fast. Not only here in the shrine, but also whenever he was gone, he would search to get his satisfaction otherwise, sometimes even bringing home some woman, because she was promised to him as a prize.” she whispers. “Just like me.”

Your eyes widen and your heart is pounding at her words, knowing she’s just telling you this to provoke you.

Or does she?

You grow nervous, remembering that heartache that’s different from the others, remembering the anger you felt that night when you heard…

“What would you do if he comes back and didn’t fuck you the way he would before. He always finds someone else he would also consider his favourite. Believe me, I’ve outlived some of them. And whatever little thing you have going on with him, I have to admit it truly is special, but…no matter what he did with you or told you, I assure you he will grow bored of you as well.” she continues. “Maybe, just maybe, he hasn’t come back yet, because he found someone else to play his little game with.” she coos in pity. “The real challenge is not to become one of his favourites, but to keep that place. Maybe that’s why I’m still here. Maybe the way I fell into his hands is better than yours. Being a prize is better than being garbage.” she spits.

You clench your jaw, can’t help to feel extremely stressed about what she said. Because you know he would be capable of it. He’s shown you before. But it’s her and things have changed. So much happened between you and him. The curse, the kiss, his words. It’s just her trying to provoke you, her words contradicting what the other maid told you two months ago, to make you feel less of yourself. A lump grows in your throat, the fear of what she’s saying to be true too big, as you just keep staring into the face you want to pierce with his dagger and your arrow.

Heartache.

It grows dark outside, the last light is about to vanish, as suddenly

Bang!

the doors to the halls fly open.

Both of you jump and look to the door. Your eyes widen, the colour falls from your face and with a dry mouth and a banging heart, his name falls on your whispering tongue.

“Sukuna!”

[asingleshampdition]

Sympathy for Jin Shirato

In all honesty, I actually feel just as, if not worse for Jin, than I do Chidori; especially in Reload, despite Chidori being the most fleshed out of the Strega three. This character analysis will not include developments from Shadow Cry, as I'm not aware of most of its contents enough to include it. (P.S. There are no visuals because for some reason, Tumblr doesn't want to save with them.) I think the motivations of the three Strega members are very important. All of them came from the same background, as child experiments; and thus, we can draw fair conclusions from them.

Takaya wants to get back at the world for hurting him. He's a man who is very weak-willed, and wishes for death, as long as it means others come along with him. He's adopted this view in which his only purpose in life is to bring everyone down with him: as he's been granted the power to do such (in the form of Hypnos), he's under the impression that his life is meaningless otherwise. This is why he's so unwilling to give up the Dark Hour to SEES; he's unwilling to start over, because in his mind, he's built up meaning for himself. Takaya doesn't really care for anyone; everyone he comes across, to him, is either an asset he can use to achieve his goal (Jin and Chidori), or an obstacle (SEES). As much as I'd like to believe Takaya genuinely did care for Jin and Chidori, I can't see it. At the end of the game, Takaya becomes a cult leader; Strega had always had parallels to such, and cult leaders, like Takaya, don't typically care about their followers. Rather, they see them as tools, to get their way. From my point of view, Takaya is an irredeemable piece of garbage, in the games, and cannot compare to Jin or Chidori in terms of sympathizing potential. As previously stated, I'm not accounting for Shadow Cry in this post, so I don't really know how the pathetic wet cat man is portrayed there. Chidori's motivation is that she, quite literally, has no motivation. She finds no purpose in life, and therefore, doesn't really care what happens either way. In her eyes, dying just means she'll never wake up again, and the end of the Dark Hour? "Cool, more days to live until I inevitably die," is probably what she would've made of it. Either that, or, "oh no, Medea!" Chidori's motivations are so radically different than both Takaya and Jin's motivations, and I believe this is why she was able to break away from such a cynical, nihilistic line of thought, much more easily than the other two. The only reason she followed, and was loyal, to Strega, was because Jin and Takaya were similar to her. Other than that, she held no regard for them, and did not consider them friends. It did not matter, to her, who she followed. If Takaya had been a better guy, maybe with hopes of reform, she probably would've turned out better as well. The only person she really cared about, until Junpei, was herself; as selfish as that sounds. She considers Medea her only true friend, as a representation of how she isolates herself, in order to not be afraid of death. So, where does that leave Jin? I believe Jin, unlike Takaya and Chidori, possesses a trait that neither of the other two have: genuine care for the few people close to him. The reason Jin doesn't want the Dark Hour to disappear is very similar to Takaya's; however, as shown in Reload, this isn't really the case. We have to remember that Takaya, essentially being a cult leader, even before he starts such, is incredibly manipulative and charismatic. Think of Jin as a young, impressionable dude, who is at an incredibly low point in his life; someone who is emotionally vulnerable, someone who can be targeted. The perfect candidate for a potential cult member. Then comes along Takaya: someone who is kind to him. Someone who treats him with dignity, with respect; someone who is there for him when he needs it most. Someone who 'saves' him. Kind of like Chidori, I believe Jin could've fallen for anyone; it didn't have to be for Takaya, it just had to be someone who was kind to him during the darkest time of his life. Unfortunately for him, Takaya does not truly care for him, unlike the vice versa, and whatever kindness Jin experienced from Takaya may or may not have been an act of manipulation. Kind of like how cults usually target young, impressionable, emotionally vulnerable individuals. Jin was manipulated into siding with Takaya; and kind of like a cult member and a cult leader, the member would align with the leader's ideals. Therefore, I do not believe Jin's true reason for standing against the Dark Hour's absence is the same as Takaya's.

This is not to say Jin doesn't have a 'real' reason; unlike Chidori, I believe he does. His statements on 10/31, being: "If the Dark Hour disappears, we might forget everything that happened, won't we? / I'd forget you and Chidori, the things we did together, our time at the facility... All of it." I find this line an incredibly simple way of painting Jin in a sympathetic way; and yet, it's incredibly tactful. Jin values the time he's spent with Takaya and Chidori; he values them. To him, they're like family. They are what SEES is to Makoto/the protagonist: his friends, the only friends he's ever had, and he'd rather die than forget about them. The only problem is that both Takaya and Chidori hold little to no regard for him. I'm somewhat sure he knows this, and yet, he still chooses to view them in such a way; even after Chidori pays virtually no mind to him as a person, and when Takaya separates from him in the final stretch of Tartarus, knowing that Jin would probably die.

This conclusion does raise some questions, though; when Chidori sacrificed herself for Junpei, why didn't Jin say anything? Rather, why didn't he try and stop her? After all, he's mostly silent, and Takaya does most of the talking during the sequence. Strega's philosophy on death is to not fear it, as it is inevitable. Perhaps this is also why Jin does not show sadness when Chidori dies? To Jin, as well as Takaya and Chidori, they've accepted that they will all die someday, because of the suppressants, as well as their Personas. Jin doesn't view Chidori's death as sad, not because he doesn't care for her, but because Strega has already established that death is inevitable for people like them. Another potential reason for Jin supposedly not caring for Chidori's death is the presence of Takaya. As a cult member is to a cult leader, Jin is dependent on Takaya. Since Takaya only views Chidori as a pawn, perhaps Jin would take on Takaya's view on the matter; to Jin, Takaya is wiser than anyone else. I really can't think of any other reasons as to why Jin wouldn't show much emotion during Chidori's death, other than either one: Jin specifically referring to Takaya, and only adding Chidori in as an afterthought, in his quote, or two: bad writing. The first one I doubt, as I feel like Jin would be one of the last people to tell a half-truth (to Takaya, of all people, to boot); especially since his last name is Shirato (white door), referring to how he can't keep his fatass mouth shut when talking about important information with SEES. I don't really think the writers would make such an oversight; adding Jin's sympathetic statement, and then forgetting to make him sympathetic otherwise. Not saying it's not possible; it definitely was, considering the quality of the villains' writing in the older versions of Persona 3. I just find it unlikely. This all just goes to show that Jin could've ended up just like the SEES members, if not to a greater extent than Chidori. He loved the ones he was close to, and he believed in bonds, to some extent. Of course, maybe not in the way SEES does, but the point is that he did; and bonds are the entire premise of the Persona series. Takaya never believed in bonds at all, throughout the entire game; he's too focused on himself, so he's out of the question. Chidori doesn't believe in bonds until Junpei shows up, even with Jin and Takaya in the picture. Jin is the only Strega member who would go as far to die for his found family, the only member who loved his companions from the start.

The more I think about it, the less I really blame Jin for who he became. Like I've mentioned before, you have to think of Jin as a cult member. A cult member who was 'indoctrinated' by Takaya, because he was naive, impressionable, and a lost soul; looking for someone to love him, respect him, stay by his side, and 'save' him. Would you fault a lost soul, someone who is incredibly emotionally vulnerable, as well as naive, for being manipulated into a cult? Sure, you could view Jin as 'stupid' for falling for Takaya, but that's the thing: people who become cult members aren't always stupid. They could be the brightest, most mature person you know; and that's not the point. Cults target people who are lonely; who want love. No matter how bright, mature, talented, well-read you are; at the end of the day, you are not immune to manipulation, if the manipulators pull the right strings. I think that's what's most scary about Jin: his story revolves around how someone so bright, so talented, someone who was one the right track, who more or less had the right mindset about relationships, was thrown off course, because he was also lonely, naive, and lost. It's very similar to many people who join cults; his character, even in Reload, can be written off as just some cynical, Takaya-obsessed bomb maniac, kind of like how a lot of people write cult members off as off-putting, evil, and sadistic. I think Reload did a terrific job at exploring this part of his character, even if it was just a few extra scenes. Or maybe I'm just overanalyzing because he's my favorite character lmao, who knows?

[pxrplebxtterfly]

Feeling Warmer? (Dean)

18+

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem reader

Warnings: blood, nudity, oral sex, penetrative sex, nothing too dark bc this is my first fic ever.

Summary: Dean shows up at your door freezing and bleeding.

Word count: 3k

Notes: This is my first fic!! I’ve never written anything like this before so if anyone has any advice, please let me know! Also, this fic is in first person but does not use any particular name for the reader. Also, this same fic but for Sam, will be posted on my account. Thanks so much for reading, I hope you enjoy! (all gifs belong to me)

❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀

I've known him for two years now. Within these two years, I’ve found myself attracted to him more than I’d like to be; especially because he’s a friend. But there’s something about his character that stirs something in me.

As a self proclaimed “good” witch, I focus my craft on helping others. That's how I met Dean and his brother Sam. 

Both hunters, they kill monsters like me; except I'm not a monster. I met him when he came to town on a case, hunting another witch. Locals talked to them about me and they confronted me at my home. Before killing me, the other witch appeared, to watch them kill me and then to kill them. 

Either way, before they could hurt me too badly, I was able to recite a spell and trigger the hex bag the other witch stood under. She sparked into flames and burnt to ash in my doorway. 

Realizing I had helped them, they decided to hear me out and let me explain myself. I told them how I was raised by a wiccan, that was devoted to nature and the ways it can be harnessed to do good. 

They let me live, noting I was still mortal. Since then I've been helping them occasionally, when they need it. 

I hadn't heard from them in a while until one of them, the one I've always liked more, shows up at my door.

“Oh my god, are you okay? What happened?” I ask.

Dean's standing on my doorstep, the cold, dim light from the porch lamp creating deep shadows over his tall form. Snow is piling up outside, coating my lawn and the fields around my house. 

He’s covered in snow, soaking wet, and almost frozen, making him shiver intensely. There’s dried blood from small cuts on his face. 

“Demon” he pants.

Bruises are starting to form on his eye and jaw. I grab his wrist to pull him inside and feel that his skin is like ice.

“Jesus, come in, I’ll start a bath for you, you’re freezing” I say, feeling his large hands between my own. I walk to the bathroom and kneel next to the bathtub. I turn on the hot water and the water starts to fill the basin. 

“What happened?” I ask.

“I was a quarter way to the city and my car ran out of gas. I knew it was something else when the gas meter was still on half a tank. A demon pulled me out of the car and roughed me up a bit but I've got the knife so I was able to… get away” he hesitates and adjusts his words appropriately but I know what he means. “Out here, you’re the closest to where I was” he explains, teeth chattering and pain in his eyes.

“How long did it take you to get here?” 

“Forty-five minutes maybe” he says, hugging himself and still shivering.

“Where’s Sam? I didn’t know the both of you were in town,” I ask, getting up from my knees to face him.

“He’s with Bobby in Tulsa working on a case. I was on my way down there, and was hoping to make it by morning.”

“Why weren’t you with them?”

“Since when did you become so inquisitive?” 

I roll my eyes and say “Nevermind, I was just wondering”

Steam begins to rise off the water's surface and that’s when I say, “Okay, cmon get this stuff off.”

He begins to pull off his jacket but has trouble with his cold, stiff muscles and frozen clothes so I reach over to help. I pry his jacket off and then lift his shirt. He shivers when I peel his shirt off his back. 

I can't help but admire his tanned, muscular torso, chest, and arms. I sometimes forget just how enjoyable his body is to look at. 

“This is so pathetic” he says, and looks so shy about needing help.

“No it’s not, your clothes are frozen to your skin, just let me help you” I say.

Without thought, I sit on the edge of the bathtub and begin to unbuckle his belt. I look up at him and shrink when I see the way he’s looking at me. A look of shock and desperation is painted on his face. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think-” I apologize and remove my hands from his hips. 

He pauses, collecting his thoughts. I stand up, the most embarrassed I've ever been, and wait for him to move so I can leave.

Instead, he says, “It’s okay” softly and cautiously, looking at me. He pulls his belt off timidly and tosses it on the floor next to me. He continues undressing, unbuttoning his pants. I look away from him and let him peel his jeans down and off his legs. 

He stands upright, just in his underwear now, and looks down at me with coyness. Trying hard not to glance down I say, “I don’t want to intrude”

“It’s alright” he nods and slides his boxers off. I don't look, but hear them hit the tile floor. 

I cannot begin to process the fact he’s bare in front of me. I'm so flustered at his lack of privacy that I can't move my feet. So instead, he takes a step past me to get into the bath.

I turn around and watch, hypnotized, as he lowers himself in, big hands, clutching the sides of the tub. I hold my breath watching his muscles work to ease him in.

“Nice and warm,” he says and looks at me. 

He’s so big he barely fits in the tub; thighs pressed against the sides, arms draped over the edge.

Trying to distract myself from his naked glory, I turn the faucet off. 

“Okay, um, I’m just gonna go read a book or something” I say, trying to brush off the awkward sexual tension. 

There is no friendly explanation for the occurrence that has just happened between us, and I need a moment to myself, to freak out alone. 

“Actually, will you stay?” he asks, puppy eyes and pretty eyelashes blinking at me.

“You want me to stay?” I can't understand what’s happening between us right now.

“Yeah, I… I don’t want to be alone right now” he almost begs.

“Oh-okay” I nod and say gently.

I notice the washcloth on the counter so I grab it, and sit next to the bath. The side of the tub cuts off part of my view of him so I'm able to relax a little bit more.

The swarming heat in my body, due to him, makes me confident enough to ask him something I'd never ask anyone else.

“Do you want me to?” I gesture at his cuts on his face with the washcloth. 

“Sure,” he says and sits up.

I soak the washcloth in the water and then bring it up, dripping wet, to his face. I tenderly pat at one of the wounds, dabbing at the blood. I hold his face gently with my other hand to steady my movements. He seethes slightly under my touch and the heat and longing in me increases. His eyes are shut in uncomfortability. 

When I finish cleaning up the cuts on his face, I dip the rag back into the water and then bring it to his shoulder. I rub his shoulder with the cloth and then squeeze it so the hot water can run down his back. As I rub him, I watch his skin and the way the water trickles over him. 

“Thank you” he says, his head hung, hair floppy, and the back of his neck on full display. There's something so tantalizing about it. 

“Of course, you looked like you had hypothermia,” I say.

“Nah, I’ll be okay” he looks over his shoulder at me, as if to say that he’s okay because of me.

I bite my lip in an attempt not to smile but it doesn’t work and I blush. I push myself to my knees and loom over him, trying to get a better angle for my arms. I don't look at what I want to look at, I stay focused on the rag. Even though my core is aching, I'm putting his comfort first.

I dip the cloth back into the water and this time bring it up to his chest. I run it over his collarbones and feel his heart beating fast. We stare at each other while I drag the washcloth over his tattoo and down his sternum. 

He looks up at me, so nervous, yet so bewitched.

Once again I bring my hand back down into the water but this time, my fingers brush something hard. I look down to see what I touched and see his erection.

“Oh, I didn't mean to-“ I stutter and look at him. He's looking right back at me with intense shame.

“I’m sorry,” he pants, “You’re just touching me so gently and you’re being so kind, I- I can’t help but-“

I shake my head, an apologetic look on my face and say, “Oh god, really it’s fine! I’m the one who should apologize, it’s my fault, I should have known, it wasn’t my intention”

He looks away, “I should leave,” he starts to say, but I can hear in his voice it’s only because he’s embarrassed.

“And go where? You don’t have a car, outside’s a blizzard by now, and I'm not driving you into town at this hour, no place will be open" I say, trying not to sound desperate. 

While I completely am, if he’s not okay with this, then neither am I. However, that doesn’t mean I don't want to try to seize the opportunity.

“You’re right but this is really embarrassing and I don't want to make you uncomfortable” he says, almost restless.

“You’re not,” I say, “I- I’m willing to- I just want to take care of you. Will you let me help?” 

This is the moment. The moment I've been waiting for since I met him.

He hesitates, “What do you mean by help?” he asks and looks so infatuated.

“I mean this” I say and go in slowly to kiss him. After I kiss him he stares at my lips for a second, but then kisses me back deeply. He brings his wet hand up to my face, tangling my hair. He caresses my face with his other hand as I timidly slide my tongue into his mouth. Our kissing is passionate and aches with years of unspoken lust. 

I place my hands on his shoulders to steady myself, and then run them up his neck to hold his face and then back down again. 

I decide to get bold, so I submerge my hand in the water and wrap it around him.

He moans into me, surprised by my boldness. He whispers out “Fuck” as we part and searches my eyes, as if trying to figure out if I’m insane or not. He leans back letting me continue. I begin to pump and he closes his eyes in pleasure. 

His chest is heaving and he’s biting down on his fist to try and keep himself at bay. 

“God,” he hisses, “you’re so good at that”

His hips start to raise and thrust into my fist and that’s when I decide he’s done bathing.

My arms and knees are sore and I need to sit down on something comfortable. I let go of his cock and he groans. 

“Can we go to the living room?” I ask, standing up.

He doesn’t answer, just scrambles to drain the tub and get out.

He follows me down the hallway, damp feet padding behind me. When we get to the living room, the fire in the fireplace is burning bright and I sit on the couch in front of it. 

He has the towel wrapped low around his waist, hardly covering anything.

Before I'm even able to invite him to sit next to me, he’s kneeling in front of me, face hovering in front of my knees.

“What are you doing?” I giggle.

“I just want to look at you” he breathes out, unable to hold back a grin.

“Okay” I whisper and smile.

He peppers kisses on my knees and my thighs, slowly working his way to my core. Before he goes too far he asks, “Can I?” referring to the pajama shorts I'm wearing and I nod.

He reaches up and tugs my shorts off leaving me in just my panties. 

He spreads my legs apart and says, “Fuck, you’re so wet,” noticing the damp spot on my underwear.

He brings the knuckle of his finger to my cunt and brushes the wet patch. I whimper, wanting him to touch me more. He looks up at me and scoffs through a smile. He doesn’t break eye contact as he begins to kiss and suck all over the insides of my thighs.

Naturally, my legs try to close but he keeps me spread with his huge hands, so that he can tease me a bit. 

He pulls back and slips his hands in the band of my panties and pulls them off me.

“Fuuuck, look at you” he drawls when he’s eye level with my throbbing pussy. “Can I taste you?”

I nod enthusiastically, and watch as he kisses my clit. I feel his finger run through my entrance collecting my arousal. He brings his finger to my clit and rubs it gently.

I moan at his touch, and the way he cares to make sure I’m wet all over. Then he wraps his arms around my legs, enabling him to stay nuzzled close to me.

He slides his tongue over my hole. I lean back into the couch. He begins to make out with my cunt and I almost faint from how sexy he is and how good he’s making me feel.

“Jesus” I stutter. His mouth feels so nice on me that I sit back up and hold his head while his nose is burying into my clit. I squeal as he tongue-fucks me and grind up into his face. I run my hands through his hair pulling at it and he moans into me. 

I can’t help but groan from the waves of heat I’m experiencing. I’m almost at my climax but I want this to be drawn out as long as it can, so I decide to stop him. 

I push at his head and he looks up at me, the lower half of his face shiny. 

“God,” I whisper and shake my head slightly, in disbelief at his perfection. 

“What?” he asks.

“You’re just so…” I can’t finish my thought with my head swimming the way it is. 

He laughs at me but stretches up to kiss me. I taste myself on him and it only makes me feel hotter. I pull his body flush against mine and can feel his dick through the towel on my lower stomach. Evidently he feels it too and begins to rut against me.

He pulls the towel off and now his cock is poking at the hem of my shirt. I once again wrap my palm around him and massage his pre-cum into his dick. I rub my thumb underneath the head of his cock and he moans. 

“Oh, do you like that?” I ask sultrily.

“Fuck yeah I do” he replies against my neck. His hands are digging into the cushions of the couch beside my legs. 

I take my other hand and alternate between fondling his balls and pumping along with my right hand.

“You’re so good to me” he says breathlessly, his head buried into my shoulder. He keeps trying to kiss my shoulder and collarbone but fails due to the overwhelming pleasure. 

“I know baby” I say into his ear and kiss it.

He’s moaning and thrusting into my hands, but pulls away so he can look at me. I become even more wet as I watch him get off in my hands. 

“Hold on,” I say and slow my movements. 

He grunts as I slow down and says, “You’re killing me”

It’s because I’ve edged him twice now and I chuckle.

“I want you to fuck me” 

“I can do that” he nods, drunk off his denial.

“Oh good” I reply and kiss him. 

I reach over to the little end table next to the couch and pull out a condom.

He raises an eyebrow at me, intrigued that I keep them close. I hand it to him and let him put it on while I lay back on the couch.

Condom on, he climbs on top of me kissing my stomach up to my breasts, neck, and then mouth. He rubs my clit with one hand and I rock my hips into his palm. 

He’s breathing fast when he pulls away and looks down at my entrance. He swipes his dick through my folds and prods at my weeping hole. 

“Please” I whine, begging him to fill me.

He pushes into me and instantly seethes and moans when my tightness tries to push him out. 

“Jesus” he stutters as he begins to fuck me.

I’m whimpering under him, completely helpless to his massive frame. He’s looking into my eyes while I run my hands up into his hair and hold his body against mine. I can’t stop muttering curse words and babbling nonsense as he hits that deep spot inside of me.

He’s panting and groaning in my ear and I feel myself clenching around him, and building up to my climax.

I reach my hand in between our bodies to help further myself along, when he whispers “I’m so close”

Instantly I’m reaching the edge and so is he. In a tremendous peak, we both come. He continues to fuck into me while we ride our orgasms. I think I’ve gone both blind and deaf with the surge of pleasure I felt. 

As we come down from our highs, he slows his thrusts and kisses me over and over, everywhere on my face. He eventually pulls out and we both sigh, at the feeling. 

He pulls the condom off and flings it in the wastebasket under the end table. 

Then, he lays next to me on the couch and holds me against him. He kisses my forehead again and again while he rubs my arm gently. I bury into his side and drape my arm over his torso. 

“Feeling warmer?” I tease.

“Absolutely,” he laughs. 

[ddejavvu]

hey!! so I just requested a James (or Sirius) fic where he finds fairy!reader in the forest with a damaged wing and helps her, and I was wondering if you could actually write it with Regulus instead 😅 (again, there’s no need if you don’t want to write it, and I’d be fine with any of the three)

thank you!!

today is multiverse monday, send me any au you can think of! :)

--

The moment Regulus sees your tiny body plummet to the water, his heart stops. He had not been expecting you to fly over the lake while he was skipping stones, but the splash from one of the particularly heavy ones he'd chosen doused your wings, and you'd fallen instantly.

He rushes in without a second thought, but he's glad you're in shallow waters, because he can't swim.

He scoops your tiny, trembling form off of the surface of the water where you'd been trying to float. Your wings are soaked through, pathetically droopy, and you give a feeble cough as he totes you back to shore.

"I'm sorry," He rushes to apologize, the legs of his trousers wet as he sits back on the grass. He has a hard time finding his wand in the tall grass by the lake, but once he does a drying spell is tumbling from his lips, and you're devoid of all lake water.

You're still weak with your adrenaline crash when you sit up in his palm, looking disoriented and defeated as you stare warily up at him.

"I'm sorry," He repeats, dark eyes oozing with sympathy, "I didn't mean to hit you. Are you okay?"

"I'm dry," You marvel, glancing at his wand, "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." He shakes his head, "You're not hurt, are you?"

"I don't think so," You muse, wobbling to your feet as Regulus tries keeping his hand as steady as possible. You lurch sideways at an involuntary tremor, and he juts his thumb out so that you can grab it for stability.

"Sorry," He moves to put you down in the grass, but you cling to his thumb like a lifeline.

"You have pretty hair," You muse, walking up his arm like a tightrope as your wings drop golden dust from their glittering surface, "Can I fix it for you?"

"Uh," Regulus blanches as you flutter beside his head, miniscule fingers combing through his individual strands of hair, "Um, I suppose? What are you going to do?"

"I'll braid it like mine," You offer, turning your head so that Regulus can see a small, fragile braid running up the side of your bun.

"Alright," He nods slowly, then, "What were you doing over the lake?"

"I wanted to say hi to the fish," You explain, fingers already grouping and twisting his hair, "They're my friends."

"That's cool." Regulus keeps his eyes on the waters surface, knowing there's a lot more than fish down there, "Have you ever met the squid?"

"Oh, yes!" You nod cheerily, and Regulus shudders as the way your hands rake through his hair sends a shiver up your spine, "He likes the gifts I give him."

"Gifts?"

"Mostly flowers," You nod, "Speaking of: Can you hand me that daisy there, please?"

Regulus plucks the thin green stem from the grass, holding it up to you cautiously, "Why?"

"It's pretty in your hair," You explain simply, tucking the flower into his braid.

--

The flower doesn't last ten minutes in his hair after you flutter away. In fact, Regulus hunches in the shadows of the castle to undo the strands you've woven together in his hair, shaking it out before anyone sees him. But the daisy he slips between two pages of an old textbook, and when it's charmed to be unbreakable, the dried flower goes in his pocket.

[izgnanik-a]

CoD ABC’s

NSFW 18+ x Reader Edition - Minors DNI!

Masterlist here

S - Spectrophilia (Simon Riley x Reader)

Tags: Somnaphilia, dubcon, fingering

Not beta-read, we die like men 🤷🏽

Prompt: For a week now, you’d been living alone in your new house and having strange erotic dreams of a man approaching you. This night, like others, are no different.

Ever since you’d bought your first home, scrounged by the skin of your teeth, you had done it. Made the purchase, and with little to your name—this accomplishment made you feel like you were in the clear.

The first night went quietly; only the mattress set up on your frame and box spring, the head board still lingering aside, but you had a place to sleep. Everything else had been left in boxes, and you had been so exhausted that you fell asleep the moment every mover and friend who helped left.

Your dream was uncanny—a shadow of a man lingering at the foot of your bed, staring down at you with curiosity. You almost thought that someone had broken in with how vivid the dream was.

You went on with your day.

Unloading boxes left in your car, putting things in their corresponding room, and stopping in between for snacks and sips of wine. Buying your first home came with its sacrifices, and one of those is your groceries. You’d live off of Ramen and pasta for the first two months before figuring out a working schedule.

But going to bed the second night introduced a whole different kind of dream to you; you’d dreamed about the man from before, massive and mysterious, standing at the end of your bed again. Only this time he rounded the side, fingers grazing your exposed body, and laid up beside you. Just as his lips grazed your ear, you felt a shock of arousal course through you.

You felt like you’d been touched and teased, ravished, and no one had even touched you. You felt alive. And horny.

True, you’d been out of a relationship for more than a couple of years now, but you’ve had a few (non-sexual) flings that didn’t work out as you had planned. You weren’t going to start calling yourself pathetic, but there was something about the new house that made you feel strange.

You hadn’t connected the dots until you’d been through a week of these wet dreams.

Laying in bed, you readied yourself, knowing the phantom mirage of the man would appear. And like clockwork, when you shut your eyes, dreaming or not, the apparition appeared. The familiar smell of tarmac and gunpowder filled your senses.

Not a completely solid form, just hardly enough to see the feature of this masked man, he wafted along the bedroom towards the bed. You kept leaned on your side as the familiar draft of his body pressed up against your back. Cold fingers grazed your shoulders, goosebumps appearing in their wake as his hand slithered along your shoulder to your hand.

You stared at the pale illumination of his skin under the crescent moon, peeking in through staggered curtains.

A pair of lips pressed up against your ear, and it was the only thing needed to edge on your arousal. You quivered, uttering a moan and watched as the ghastly weight of his hand pressed lower, waiting between your thighs.

Like a good girl, you lifting your knee, spreading your legs, and offering him the goodness of warmth between your legs. There was no time wasted, an act done time and time again throughout the week, as his two thick fingers curled their way into your awaiting canal.

You arched your back, clutching onto the pillow, and sobbed in pleasure as you rocked against his fingers. Mumbling with a mantra of “yesyesyesyes”, you felt the familiar weight of his other hand against your throat. You rolled onto your back, the image of him replaced between your legs, and his body hovering over you.

In his eyes, you saw looming darkness. An unknown landscape of shadows and emotion; desperation and despair breeding together to make a monster. If he had come to you because he saw you were alone, figuring that he’d been alone for however long the house had been foreclosed, you thought he was a saint.

Even as he curled his fingers up against the inside of your cunt, making you arch off the bed in pleasing agony—

“Right there. Oh—god. Yes.” You cried up, rocking down into his hand in measuring thrusts.

His hand moved in unison, pushing up into you when you pushed down. Cold strokes across your clothed nipples made them harden, and the scrape of your nightshirt were only edging you on. He leaned forward, mouth over your nipple, and you could feel the cold press of his tongue.

You arched again, orgasm nearing as you tilted your hips upward. “Fuck—“ you staggered, “Harder. Please. Please, fuck me harder—“ before you could even get the last syllable out, you felt the urgent flutter of your cunt being fucked rigorously.

You met it with equal urgency. Reaching down to rub at your clit, you arched off the bed, lathering the wetness up and coating your clit before returning to rubbing circles into it. You gasped noisily, head leaned back.

“So good, I’m—“ you gasped heavily, feeling your edging orgasm, “ah—cumming.” You warned before the immediate flush of your orgasm brushed through and you felt like you were in a never-ending release as you rubbed yourself softly, jerking with each overstimulating stroke.

You whimpered, with realization that his fingers were doing the same. Thrusting softly against your pulsating and scorching hot walls, watching you with a renewed color in his form. He seemed fuller, solid compared to the apparition that had joined you at first.

This was your compromise, your deal with the paralysis demon, or whomever he was. You continued to live in this home, but at the cost of a good night’s rest and however many orgasms he demanded of you.

The perfect deal for a lonely bachelor.