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ceilidho · 1 day

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take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 12) [note: trigger warning for a pretty rough spanking scene with a belt and minimal aftercare. if you need to, you can skip to the midway point (there's a line between the first half and second).]

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He keeps your hands tied behind your back on the ride home.

All that does is confirm the fact that he must know. Graves must have tracked him down or perhaps he was approached by someone who did consider your sudden arrival in town suspicious. Why else would the sheriff chase you all the way into the mountains on horseback and then take you back with him? He would’ve within his rights to leave your thieving self to wander alone in the woods and succumb to the elements.

John doesn’t say a word the first hour of the ride back. You can feel the anger emanating from him though. He almost shakes with it. His anger somehow upsets you more than whatever is left to come.

“Anytime you wanna start talkin’, I’m all ears,” John finally says, breaking the silence.

You keep your lips pressed together, stubbornly silent. There’s no use giving yourself away before you’ve learned how much he knows. You haven’t built this life of yours with loose lips.

“I don’t know what in the Sam Hill has gotten into you,” he continues, and his voice is cobblestone tread rough in the night. “Running off all by yourself. There ain’t nothing out in these parts except outlaws and highwaymen. There are men out here that’d love to get their hands on a woman like you—not even a knife to defend yourself with. You haven’t even got a scrap of food on you, never mind water. You’d’ve been dead in a week if the men out here hadn’t picked you off themselves.”

His words make your stomach ache. You know that there are worse things out there. A thousand gruesome ways to die. You’re less of a lady than John might think—you’ve heard stories. You’ve brushed close to that reality yourself. You wonder how he’d take it if you were to tell him about what had happened back east.

Maybe running away this time hadn’t been your smartest idea, but it had been your only. You can’t fault yourself for the instinct to survive.

“I know,” you mumble, dropping your chin to your chest.

“You gonna explain to me why you stole my horse and ran off in the first place?” he asks.

It’s the strangest interrogation you’ve ever heard of—sitting on the same horse with your back to the man questioning you and your hands tied together at the wrists. You wonder if you leaned back whether you’d feel his heart beating furiously in his chest.

You remain mulishly silent though, reticent to answer the question.

“Maybe I’ve been spoiling you,” he continues, trying to rationalize it to himself. “After the fuss you put up those first few days, I thought a bit of structure and discipline would do you well, and it did. Giving you a bit of slack was my mistake.”

You frown at that. Those don’t sound like the words of a man with any knowledge of the circumstances leading to you running off. He might not even have come across Graves at all in the hours since the man made his appearance in the general store. Otherwise, you can’t imagine how he wouldn’t make the connection.

Still, you can’t make yourself come right out and say it, even though every iota of your being aches to let the truth out. Call it nerves overpowering the need to be truthful and good. You vacillate between honesty and self-preservation, but each avenue feels like being dropped into a nest of vipers.

But he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know. If he knew, he wouldn’t question you like this. It’s a boon you can’t give up, not yet. Not when the thought of his inevitable righteous fury fills you with dread and self-loathing.

“I don’t have to explain myself,” you spit out suddenly, and it’s not you saying those words but something ugly and sad in you. “You’re not my owner.”

“I damn sure am your husband though,” John growls, winding his free hand around your hair to tug you back into his chest. “And I know these parts far better than you, little miss. Beyond running off on me for no good reason when I thought we put your reticence behind us, you went and put yourself in danger the likes of which you couldn’t even fathom.”

“I’m not an idiot,” you snap. “I know what men are like.”

“You’re telling me you pulled that stunt knowing what kinda danger is out there in the woods?”

“I wasn’t thinking!”

“I know you weren’t,” John grunts. “That’s the issue.”

The rest of the ride home is uncomfortably quiet. John keeps one hand clamped on your waist while the other holds the reins of both horses, the two walking alongside each other back down the trail towards the house. The ride home is a lot longer than the ride out into the woods since John refuses to let either of them go faster than a slow trot while your hands are tied behind your back.

He snorts in derision at your suggestion to undo your binds. “That eager for your punishment?”

That gets you to zip your lips.

When you get drowsy, John tips your head back and makes you sip from his waterskin. His hand fits carefully around your throat to hold your head in place, his fingers curling around to just graze the nape of your neck. Your throat pulses under his palm when you swallow. It’s far too intimate for how restless you feel, damn near shaking out of your skin, but it briefly shushes the voice in your head until he pulls his hand away.

A shadow under the doorway of the house startles you at first before it takes a step into the faint light of the setting sun and you recognize the bristly blond of Simon’s shorn head and the red bandana shrouding the bottom half of his face. The tension ebbs back into you when you realize with creeping humiliation that the black horse you rode home on must belong to him.

He watches the two of you approach with predictable disinterest, his eyes betraying nothing. The shame is excruciating.

John brings the horse to a halt some feet from Simon, not bothering to greet him. You wonder if it’s the anger choking him or if this is just routine, men trading favors in silence lest a word in gratitude break the spell. After dismounting himself, John helps you down, all but picking you up and lifting you off the horse.

Simon doesn’t say a word to either of you when he takes the reins from John’s hands, giving him only a curt nod and you a cursory glance before leading his horse away to mount. He doesn’t spare you a backwards glance before taking off back towards town. You watch him over your shoulder while John guides you up the porch steps and into the house, until the shape of him disappears into the horizon. Then the door shuts behind you.

Alone now, your attention turns back to John. He stares down at you consideringly, a hand planted on the door he just shut until he lets it fall to his side. You can see the gears turning in his mind, weighing something out.

It wouldn’t be right to call it anticipation; it’s not quite dread either.

“I don’t make idle threats, you know,” he says, apropos of nothing.

His words make you frown until you glance down to find him undoing his belt. Your blood turns to ice. He tugs the thick strap until it comes sliding out of each loop around his waist. The buckle rests heavy in his palm, thick fingers curling around it, and when he bends the belt in two, you already know that he intends to follow through with his threat from earlier, the one you said you’d gut him for.

“I’ll scream,” you warn, heart in your throat. It almost chokes you. “I mean it. I’ll scream like the devil.”

“Don’t go makin’ no empty threats now, darlin’,” he says in a low voice, almost taunting. You can hear the hard edge in his voice though. It’s not something he craves, but he’ll take it.

“You touch me with that thing and I’ll never forgive you.”

John’s eyes go hard. “I’ll just have to take that chance.”

And then he’s on you.

He hooks an arm around your waist when you try to rush past him back out the door and it forces the breath out of you.

You struggle as best you can with your hands tied behind your back, trying to wriggle out of his hold even as he heaves you up into his arms and climbs the staircase towards the bedroom. The steps creak under the added weight of you in his arms. The screams come tearing from your throat, ripping your vocal cords and nearly sending you into a coughing fit.

“Let—me—go—” you shriek, kicking out wildly, hoping to catch something that’ll make him lose his balance.

“All that squirmin’ ain’t making me feel more merciful,” he growls.

John kicks the bedroom door open with his foot when he reaches the top of the staircase. The room looks ominous without the oil lamp lit, the shadows growing in the corners swallowing up the end table. The bed is just as you made it this morning, the sheets pressed tight and neat, and you only get a second to take that in before he marches towards the bed and throws you down onto it.

You hit the bed hard, bouncing slightly. He sits down heavily enough to jostle you and when you try to roll away on instinct, a hand catches you by the bicep and pulls you back. He hauls you across the bulk of his thighs this time, far different from your first meeting back in the sheriff’s office all those weeks ago. Your feet don’t even touch the floor this time around, dangling in the air and flailing for purchase.

“You brute—you bastard!” you screech.

“I’m not gonna be as charitable this time,” John says, yanking your dress up and your drawers down until your bare bottom is exposed. You gasp at the cold air, murmuring something like please, please, please under your breath. “Even if I knew why it was you decided to run off, that doesn’t excuse the fact that you did. You coulda been hurt or worse out there, darlin’, and I’d never have forgiven myself. I’m gonna make sure the lesson sinks in this time.”

He folds the leather belt to hold it in one hand, leaving the other to pin you down over his thighs, making sure you don’t wriggle out. The leather is cool at first when he drags it over your butt. It makes your breathing pick up. It’s so gentle that you can almost trick yourself into thinking that it’s all he intends to do.

The first lash comes so quick that you barely register it. The second knocks the wind out of you, and then the pain sets in.

It stings something fierce. Where his palm hurt that first time he bent you over his desk and spanked you, the belt burns. It goes deep and it lingers when he pulls the leather away from your stinging bottom.

“Hurts like the dickens, don’t it?” John asks, not bothering to wait for confirmation before bringing the belt down again. “You’re lucky it’s only ten this time.”

You howl into the bedsheets, eyes tearing up and spilling down your cheeks. When you try to cover your ass with your bound hands, John grabs them and pins them to the small of your back.

“What’ll you never do again?” he growls.

“I—I’ll—”

“Say it, darlin’: I’ll never run off on my own again.”

“I’ll—n-never gonna—oh, it hurts, John—please—”

At some point, you must say the words he’s looking for. You lose count of how many times his belt has struck across your ass. Like thunder coming after lightning, you feel it and then you hear it. The sharp snap comes as a second wave of agony in and of itself.

Your throat is stripped raw by the time it’s over. The aftermath finds you with a puddle of drool under your cheek, hair matted to your face. Sweat slicks the backs of your thighs and down your spine. Even the gentlest brush of John’s hand over your backside, the belt deposited off the side of the bed, makes you flinch, the skin there tender to the touch. You’ll surely feel it deep in your bones come sunrise.

Too exhausted for anger, all you can do is lie there. It sits heavy in your stomach though, a pit at the center of you. You want to say, who gave you the right? The answer burns a ring around your finger though. You want to say, you don’t understand, it had nothing to do with you. It has everything to do with him and you.

You can tell he wants to say something. It gets choked in his throat, but you can hear it in the way his breath draws in, like he’s trying to coax it from his chest but it simply won’t come out.

“Stay right there,” John rumbles instead, shifting you onto the bed to let you lie on your belly.

You moan in pain when he moves you, sniffling into your arms. The crook of your elbow is sticky with your tears and snot.

The bed dips under his weight when he comes back. You flinch violently when he draws the skirt of your dress up again and smooths his hand over the tender cheeks of your backside, spreading a cool salve over your skin. The first touch of his hand makes you hiss, tears beading in the corners of your eyes again, but then the cool sinks in, alleviating the ache.

He does that for another few minutes in silence. Gentle, tentative touches, only stopping when the salve has been spread evenly over your bottom. He’s quiet when he shifts you up the bed until your feet are no longer dangling off the end. You’re distantly aware of him taking off your shoes and tucking you into bed, but the events of the day have finally gotten the better of you. It would be easier to push a boulder up a hill than crack even one of your eyelids open.

Time passes slowly; sluggishly. Your thoughts can’t quite catch up with it, either too quick or too slow. You’re stuck in thoughts of the desert, caught in a sandstorm that manifests too suddenly for you to take cover. All you can do is close your eyes and wait it out.

Morning comes like a brutal summoning into the waking world.

It hurts, but you expected that. Before your eyes even open, you’re aware of a throbbing pain coming from your backside. You wince when you shift to your side, squeezing your eyes tight. You contemplate rolling over and taking your chances with John’s temper. The thought isn’t as appealing in the light of day though.

It takes some time to get out of bed and when you do, you have to step tentatively from floorboard to floorboard, the ache making it decidedly uncomfortable. You can’t imagine what sitting down will be like. Riding a horse is just out of the question.

From the bedroom window, you see John standing in front of the house with Simon, back again not even twelve hours later. With the window closed, you can’t hear their conversation, nor can you read their lips. Their exchange doesn’t last long though. After another minute or so, and a nod goodbye, Simon walks back over to his horse standing nearby and lifts himself up and over onto the saddle, taking off towards town.

When John turns back towards the house, you see him glance up towards the bedroom window where you stand. The circles beneath his eyes are dark, pronounced. On another day, you might’ve ducked out of sight or jumped away from the window, but now you hold his gaze.

He breaks your stare first this time, heading back inside. It’s less satisfying than you thought it’d be.

You spend the day resting in bed and avoiding John for the most part. He spends the majority of the day out of the house. You hear him downstairs in the kitchen around midday, fixing himself up something to eat, and you listen attentively to the scrape of the chair across the floor and the pan on the stovetop. Like the day he brought you home, he brings you up a tray only to leave it at the door, rapping the door with his knuckles to let you know before heading back downstairs.

When he comes up for bed, you’re already lying down with your back to the door, the oil lamp left unlit. John doesn’t say anything to you as he changes into his nightwear. He smells fresh when he climbs into bed, like he bathed in the creek out in the woods. You breathe in deeply, trying to keep your breath quiet enough to not disturb the silence. The pillow under your head is saturated with his scent. You turn your nose into it when he lies down on his back instead of curling into you like he usually does.

Your chest aches at that simple denial. There’s a wall between the two of you and you know where it came from. Any trust that you’d built lies in ruins now.

Perhaps that’s not quite right though. It’s a romantic notion that you’ve been building something together all this time, but it doesn’t feel right now that you have the wherewithal to look back and reflect. All this time, whenever you’ve touched, you’ve held him steadfast and at an arm's length away, stopping two degrees short of intimacy.

Deliberately effusive; and worse, you’ve called it affection.

The tenderness in your heart is the worst of it. There’s a bruise there, and it’s been there awhile. It’s only grown with your recent troubles. You tell yourself every year that you’ll air it out come spring, but then the winter comes and it freezes over again.

The pillow under your chest grows damp with your tears.

Your dress the next morning is cornflower blue. The wheatfields are golden stalks swaying in the breeze. It’s a pleasanter day than how you feel.

The ride into town is as painful as you thought it might be. You wince with every stride, your bottom still tender as a rose. John’s arm tightens around your waist when you squirm, like you might slide off the saddle and try to flee again, and you bite your lip to hold back the urge to snap.

The little bit of independence you’d grown to enjoy is snatched away from you. You expected that as well, but that loss of privilege comes with a biting ache. You fight the urge to gnash your teeth and bark at him that you’re not a child when he grips you under the arm and leads you down the road. It wouldn’t do you any good.

When John leaves you off at the general store, you’re surprised to find Kate back, hale and hearty. She looks up when the chime over the door jingles and raises her eyebrows in greeting. The sound makes you flinch, memories coming back unbidden.

You look over your shoulder to say something to John before he leaves, but the door is already closing behind him by the time you turn around. Your lips are pursed on a word that dissolves in your mouth. It has a bitter aftertaste.

“Thought you wouldn’t be back for a few more days,” you say instead, turning back to Kate. There’s already a chair pulled up for you by the wall and you make yourself comfortable there, grimacing at first when your sore backside touches the wood before settling in.

She shrugs. “Plans changed. Gaz and I made it back late last night.”

You frown. “Gaz?”

“Kyle Garrick. Sorry—slip of the tongue. You’ve met him already. He used to go by Gaz way back when.”

“Way back when?”

“Not my story to tell. You should ask one of them, if you’re curious.”

You are, but not enough to ask. “Maybe.”

The two of you lapse into silence after that exchange. Before leaving the house, you remembered to bring with you some needles and wool to pass the time. They’re not as familiar in your hands as you’d like them to be, but you suppose, barring the possibility of Graves or another bounty hunter showing up in town to cart you off, you’ll have time to learn.

The thought leaves you anxious. It feels distinctly more possible now.

“You met Miles while I was away?” Kate asks, out of the blue.

Your head comes up at her question. “Miles?”

“He was minding the store for me while I was away. Said you came in the other day.”

You swallow reflexively. “Oh. Yes, I suppose I did meet him. I didn’t stay long, since you were gone and all.”

She hums and looks back down at the book in front of her. You feel nervous all of a sudden.

“He said you were very helpful,” she says abruptly, breaking the silence. You flinch. “Told me some gentleman came by with a warrant for a murder back east and you were kind enough to take it to your husband for him so he could keep minding the shop.”

Your throat constricts. She pins you under her gaze, unblinking eyes staring into yours but not looking for anything. Wispy blonde bangs brush along her forehead when she tilts her head ever so slightly.

You nod instead of answering.

“Did you give it to him?” she asks.

“I didn’t have a chance to. The day got away from me,” you say tersely.

“I heard something about that. Kyle said John had to borrow Simon’s horse the other day. Said something about him taking off in a hurry.”

Again, you don’t answer. It feels like without knowing it, you’ve crossed over a threshold.

“Do you still have it?” Kate prompts when again you don’t respond. You don’t tell her that you don’t because in all the fuss the other day, it must have slipped out of your pocket and drifted off into the wind. “The warrant?”

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head.

“That’s alright. I have a good enough idea about what it might’ve said.”

Sweat beads on your upper lip. She all but says it outloud. You’re as still as a ferrotype under her gaze, imprinted in place, unable to move so much as a muscle or force a word past your stiff lips.

“You’re under no obligation to tell me or anyone,” Kate says, and her voice is suddenly gentle, softer than you’ve ever heard it before. “I’m sure you had your reasons. I won’t be telling John, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Oh. Thank you,” you breathe, throat so tight that the words almost don’t come out.

It’s the closest you’ve come to admitting to it, tangentially or not, and even now it’s spoken only out of the corner of your mouth. You don’t think you have it in you to recite the events sequentially. Even in the privacy of your memory, it comes piecemeal, in fragmented images that flicker across your mind because maybe to remember it whole would be too much.

You don’t say much more after that, and neither does Kate. That wasn’t the point of bringing it up, you think. You'd know if it was.

When John comes to fetch you at the end of the day, you leave without saying goodbye to Kate. Only a stiff smile before heading out on your way. If she returns your smile, you don’t notice it. To John, you simply duck your head and follow him out the door, letting him help you up onto the horse without a word.

If it bothers him that you refuse to speak to him, he doesn’t show it.

It’s so many steps back that you might as well be back where you started. Maybe even further back, a voyage gone so wrong that when you look over your shoulder, you can’t make heads or tails of where you came from. The trees from the other side of the trail never look quite the same.

If you could open your mouth and say it, you would. If you knew he’d listen. But you don’t think John is that kind of man. Against the gold of the setting sun, he cuts a figure from times of yore. He speaks plain while you tend to speak in fricatives and bilabial stops, incapable of enunciating the words.

You feel like a wound on the world. Getting it wrong again and again.

It’s an old pain, one that started back when you were too small to hold it all. Now, you’ve grown large enough to hold it, though it holds you back in turn. You remember your parents studiously ignoring first creation like some noxious cloud billowing from the chimney. There’d been too many children for them to care about the runt. Shipped off to your aunt’s and uncle’s just for the cycle to repeat itself.

It’s an old grief, this one, friendly because it nudges at your hips when you brush by, striking in the blue-green. And when it burns, it burns.

“John, I—” you say when he helps you down back at the house.

He stares down at you, waiting you out. Your mouth goes dry, the truth beyond your grasp again. Your heart aches when his brows furrow and the lines around his eyes crease again, frustration welling beneath the surface.

You understand. It sits under your skin too.

"Go inside," he says instead when you don't go on. "I'll bring in the horses and start supper."

Your God sits at the edge of the bed, wholly lacking praise. It’s not His fault that it’s been awhile. These days, you can hardly muster up the energy to say hello. You gargle saltwater before you bathe and scrub your skin free of blood, waiting for the next morning to come.

And you think, lying on your side while John sleeps on the other side of the bed, wouldn’t it be lovely to get it right now, rather than in retrospect?

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #john price x reader #price x you #price x y/n #price x reader #price/reader #john price/reader #captain john price

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prettyboykatsuki · 2 days

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BLOOD FEUDS, ANCIENT AND MODERN | RYOMEN SUKUNA.

✮ tags ; no curses au, blood incest, use of honorifics (oji-san) abuse (mostly verbal / emotional), classism, grooming / generally predatory behavior, large age gaps (20+ yrs), blood feuds, imbalanced power dynamics, white collar crime, afab + fem!niece!reader, uncle sukuna, the word rape used in text, non/dubcon (not noncon necessarily), fingering, petnames (little one, kid, little lamb), thigh-fucking, and other things, very horrible and gross sukuna behavior 18+

this is very dark and it deals BRIEFLY with sukuna being very predatory to reader when she's UNDERAGE / young. nothing explicit happens WHILE she is underage, but sukuna does leer at reader and it is mentioned. please proceed with caution !!!

PLEASE HEED THE TAGS BEFORE YOU PROCEED!!!

✮ wc ; 10.3k (???????????)

✮ a/n ; thank you vic @saintshigaraki for always indulging my nonsense and also tomfoolery. kissing you.

i'll be honest lads this one got away from me BAD jksdfhjs. i think its interesting at least.I KNOW THE TAGS ARE WICKED but i promise its like. kind of sexy at least.

also yes the title is from the rdr2 soundtrack shhh

✮ synopsis ; blood is thicker than water. resentment, you think, is thicker than both.

Bastard.

An intimately familiar title, lacking tooth and effect. It's meaning eroded with time and usage - and a moniker you've wielded proudly for as long as you can remember. You don't recall much of your life before it became part of you.

The daughter born of wedlock. Bastard daughter. The only remaining stain to your family's reputation aside from your late father.

Your mother often tells you that you were her hardest child to birth. When you were littler it was a story relayed to you with affection, and but now it's with such bitter hatred you can feel it lodged in your throat.

The most important element is the predestination in it. You came into the world kicking and screaming, throat hoarse and violent. From birth, you knew you were half-forged with bad blood and came into the world trying to be absolved of it. It's shaped your life, your relationships, everything about you.

The other half of your DNA, the good half, is from your father. Before you were a bastard, you were your parents' only child. Your father was a good man. The best you know. An average, humble man. From a generation of other working class men with a tough job in construction. Your best memories come from when he was still alive.

A quiet life, untainted by the residual bitterness of your mothers heritage. You lived away from it, outside of it. The mother in your memories from back then seem like a dream now, some mirage from long ago - disinterested in anything but you and your father. Your mama and papa. Your father took good care of you both, and your mother loved him madly.

You lived as a normal family in a small apartment just outside of Gifu for the first seven years of your life. You attended a small local school and had friends with crooked teeth and messy hair.

Your childhood was mostly happy if you break it up into pieces like that. Blissfully uneventful.

There's a concise break of change of what your life was versus what became of it. Your fathers death the splinter in the wood, separating the two halves.

The worst of your childhood, of course, came in your fathers passing. Not just because of the loss, but what it made of your life. His funeral welcomed people of all walks of life with the most notable absence of your elusive mothers side of the family.

Another old memory you have with your mother is looking at her face during your fathers wake. The deep darkness of her eyes, sunken in and hollow. The first time you ever found her terrifying instead of comforting. While the world mourned your father, your mother—you think—mourned her life.

Forced into single motherhood with no prospects and no career, your mother decided it was best for the both of you to return home.

You think the worst of your life started there.

Your mother's side of the family has never welcomed you with open arms. You wouldn't come to know why until much later. You were a child then. There's no way you could've known about feuds that deep.

The only thing you knew was that you were hated vehemently, and nothing could change that.

Your grandmother's estate was always frightening to you in your childhood. You've yet to grow out of that feeling despite living there for the last fifteen years. It's remained unchanged since you moved in and the lights in the hall never seems bright enough. Jade green painted walls and white tile floors. Some rooms have classically Japanese flooring and heirloom paintings from the Heian era. Others modernized with sterile whites and grays and house plants that add no life to it at all. Stretched wide with tens of rooms, and easy for a child to get lost in.

A sinking abyss. A terrible place. A dark labyrinth. Anxiety inducing to even think about now. No place for a child your size or your age.

The best way to describe your childhood after your father died was cold. Removed from your life in the suburbs and placed among other rich kids, you became overtly self-conscious of the differences between you and them. Them being anyone who grew up wealthy and your other extended family. You were constantly reminded of your place as the bastard child. Later learning how your mother left her fiance many years ago for your father, your poor and worthless father.

(You theorize any warmth that your mother had for you was buried in your dead dads casket. Living there, among them, made sure she'd never find it again.)

Your mother is the most complicated part of your life. You don't have a time for when she gave up on raising you. There was a year when she tried, you think. For the most part, you lived in that house utterly alone.

At first that abandonment was miserable (as it would be to any child, certainly) but a time came where you were glad you saw so little of her.

Your mother, who you had once loved and thought highly of, became a pitiful prey animal in the four walls of your grandmother's house. Small and anxious and utterly hateful. A bunny born with some cosmic knowledge and horrific understanding that its destiny is to become food for a wolf. Viciousness between her siblings, no doubt fostered by your grandparents and their establishment, tore apart the aspects of her your father mended and ruined her. You were too little to stop it.

Blood feuds that ran bone-chillingly deep plagued most of the interactions with your extended family for as long as you've been a part of them. Your mother has exactly four siblings. Two sisters between her with her as the middle daughter, and two brothers. One of which is estranged so completely you don't know his name.

And the other being your Uncle Sukuna.

Your hatred for your aunts and their children came to you rather naturally. For every gala and ball and charity fund your worthless bloodline ever raised, came catty arguments and verbal abuse from the shallow mouths of your beloved cousins. You had nothing to prove to anyone in that house. You were detested since your birth and your grandparents made no small effort to show you through as much neglect and verbal lashing as they could get away with.

Rotten girl. Cursed daughter. You're the reason your mother is like this. You're the reason she is miserable. You should've been buried with your father.

Compared to the experience of your grandfather ripping into you at age ten for simply being alive, your cousin's commentary on you was remarkably uninteresting. You resented them for being nuisances, though, with the exception of maybe one who bucked it out of that place as soon as they could. Just like you planned too.

For a long time, Sukuna wasn't around enough to have a real presence in your consciousness. You tried not to think of your extended family more than you had too. You got used to not knowing about your relatives living there, but there was no one so elusive as him.

It was as if, increasingly, you heard whispers of his name at everything you were forced to attend.

The first time you ever meet your Uncle, you're freshly sixteen. It's the birthday party your mother throws for you each year in an effort to show how close the two of you are to the rest of your relatives.

The first time you see Sukuna in person, the only thing on your mind is how much he stands out from the rest of your relatives. He's a head taller than the tallest person there, and he's...bigger. He's not clean or neat, scruff lining his chin. Old, dark eyes. Visible tattoos that reek of disgraced son and hardly of prodigy.

At sixteen, you understood intimately what your family considered to be gold standard. Your uncle was antithetical to it. His very existence a paradox to the ideas you've had been hammered into you for years. Dyed hair, piercings, tattoos - his suit jacket undone to expose his chest. Lacking respect and formality and dignity.

He was a lot like you. You got that impression, somehow.

When your eyes met with your uncles for the first time, you had your second fully formed thought about him.

Dangerous. Like an alarm. Like a ringing bell, throbbing through your skull and pulsing through your teeth. Some part of you just knew that he was a very dangerous man. Not just a wealthy one.

The first conversation you ever had with your uncle proves to be the most significant. Brief, yet - tonal in all ways. The gold standard for how he viewed you. How he would view you.

How he would treat you.

("So you're the new brat,"

Your uncle is an imposing man. You are sixteen and slightly tipsy, which is the least horrible thing you could be since your other cousin is coked out in the bathroom upstairs. You sway, staring at him. You think that's disrespectful.

He's the kind of man who might kill you for that. Might hit you. But you don't find it in yourself to challenge your defiance when you're far from sober and even father form happy. You lean your weight to one side and hum.

"New bastard," You correct him, and take another sip of the flute of champagne in your hand. "My worthless fathers, worthless daughter."

Sukuna pauses, his eyes widening before his lips break out into a grin. You wonder if it's because you're drunk. You think he's staring at you. Your eyes are too blurry to tell but you think he's gazing down the low dip of your top. At the curve of your chest. Leering at the body you've yet to even grow into.

"Tenacious," Your uncle says, and takes a long drink of his sake. You stare at the edge of his glass, carmine eyes gazing so deeply at you - you think you'll throw up. "You're your mothers daughter. Through and through.")

The night of your sixteenth birthday, your uncle announced he'd be opening a business venture in Tokyo. All this time he'd been doing work overseas, but seeing family helped finalized his decision. You remember the look on his face when he announced it. Remembered his eyes searching on you through the crowd as he held the mic up to his lips. How he named you the main reason, one conversation and he grew so fond of his little niece. That you were a clever girl, and that even though he hadn't known you long - he was sure you'd go so far.

Happy Birthday to you, little lamb.

You remember best the feeling afterwards. How the crowd went nearly silent. Hundreds of eyes darting your way in seas of strangers. All the attention people hadn’t paid suddenly mattering, all the congratulations. You remember how they crowded you and how your uncle came to your rescue with a cheeky grin and air of nonchalance.

You remember feeling sick. You remember the chill creeping up your spine, bile in your throat - all wet eyes and nausea.

Your uncle is a dangerous man. And you, the uninteresting bastard daughter, had caught his full attention.

The next four years of your life would pass so slowly, you often wondered during them, if you died that night and you'd live through these days as punishment for the crime of existing.

A little after your birthday, your uncle moved back to Japan permanently - in a residence not far from your grandmother's estate. He became a permanent fixture in your life. Many things came with that reality, none of them being especially pleasant.

You learn three things in the four years you spend with your uncle in your life.

The first is that your uncle is more powerful than you can really understand.

Through conversations at your kitchen table about his escapades abroad, you learn nothing of the work he actually does. Only what it involves, who it involves - foreign governments and people much more powerful than your family. Your uncle has ties to the Gojo family, and the Zenins'. Your time here teaches you that they make up two halves of private militarized arms and they work domestically and internationally. The only thing you need to know about them is they are filthy rich, richer than your own family and twice as corrupt.

And Sukuna works with them. Knows them rather intimately, from the pictures you've seen of Sukuna and Gojo Satoru drinking together - two prodigal sons with silver spoons and unsettling demeanors.

The second thing you learn is that your uncle's power and influence extend past all borders and include your grandparents and relatives. In the years he'd been away from home, he's garnered a formidable reputation. You never cared to notice it before, but it's all you can see now. Every arrogant, vapid relative you have the displeasure of calling family sees your uncle as some sort of king. The golden ticket to grandparents approval. A wishing well for all their hopes and dreams - so long as they appease him.

They fawn over him. Sukuna knows it. But they're all so busy trying to get on his good side they never catch his subtleties. Never seem to notice the cold sarcasm and biting edge to his questions. They pander and peacock to him constantly, but not one of them has sense enough to understand him a little deeper. Except you, incidentally. That's part of your problem

The third thing you learn about your uncle is that he takes pleasure in your cleverness no one in your life has since.... who knows? Since your father died, you think.

And you are clever. A head smarter than the rest of your family and a try-hard in all aspects. You graduated highschool top of your class and got scholarships into better schools. It was never about proving your worth of course, but about survival. You wanted away from this place, and the only way to cut your ties completely is to carve a life for yourself. Academia, education, using your name to make connections - you've been working silently on it since you were in middle school.

The only person who'd ever noticed your accomplishments was Sukuna. In between his work, he'd visit you in your room. You grew close in one sense of the word. It was a secret kept between you - but Sukuna often reminded you of it. That he saw you for who you were when no one else did. That his interest in you exceeds your own understanding, and it'd be in your best interest to remember that.

Some half-way between threats and affection, for four years - your uncle remained at your side. Uneasy as you were, he'd never try to advance on you while you were still in highschool. Some part of you knew he wasn't above it. Rather his interest hinged on getting to know you.

Your uncle is above all things manipulative.

Rather he preferred to keep you on your toes during the duration of your time together. To get close but not too close. To get to know each other openly. Your uncle made sure everyone in your family knew of his fondness for you. He'd keep you close to his side or follow you around, always in public places with a million eyes. He'd whisper to you, laughed and asked questions.

You hated being the center of attention, so Sukuna turned it on you any chance he got. It made it hard for you to refuse him, but mostly it made it hard to go under the radar without his protection. It made it hard for your relatives to insult and berate you.

You hated it. You hated accepting his kindness, because you know your uncle well enough to know that everything in the world came with a cost. And that this protection is little more than luxury, promised to you as long as you played nice.

And you always did play nice. But you were cautious. Never alone too long in the same room. Never somewhere too late. Never drunk, never high. Always within distance of a door. Sukuna was a dangerous man, and you may be a bastard but you're no fool.

It'd work for years. You evaded any real alone time with him for years. Years.

Until earlier this year where your mother had made arrangements for you to spend the summer with your dear old Uncle - in his villa, far from the safety of Japan's main island.

In the years of your uncle's favoritism towards you, no one has been more pleased than your mother. You've come to hate her for it. Your relationship hasn't been good in years and for her to suddenly attempt to be your mother again felt like a mockery.

(It mostly felt like a betrayal. You didn't think she could betray you a second time after she all but abandoned you the minute she stepped foot in that house.

Like something possessing the corpse of the mama in your dreams, your seething hatred towards her started then you think.)

You'd spent years indifferent to her, but it was this change that made you hate her down to your bones. You were furious about the decision. Furious she didn't bother asking, furious about all of it.

About everything.

An entire summer alone with the man you know to be most dangerous to you. You wouldn't put it past Sukuna, to plan this around you - but it didn't make it any less frustrating.

("You'll be going with your uncle," Your mother says, hardly listening to you. There's a baby on her hip, your half-brother and a vacant look in her eyes. You feel your jaw tighten. "We've already made plans. Your stepfather,"

"Your husband." You correct. Your mother gives you a tight-lipped smile.

"We are going on a family vacation. Your grandparents wouldn't tolerate you here alone , so you're going and that's final."

"I don't need to live with you," You seethe, fighting the urge to grab her and punch her. You've never been violent. Your mother makes you homicidal. "I can find my own fucking place, I'm twenty I don't need-"

She slams something. Your half-brother makes watery eyes. She stares at you distantly, righteously angry. Whether she's earned that anger or not, it makes your mood worse. .

"This is the least you could for me. For us." She hisses, turning around. You think of killing her. "For all the shit you put me through."

"What I put you through? Fuck you," You admit, your throat burning like a star falling through the atmosphere. Then, through a shaky breath"There's something off about him, mom. Do you understand what I'm fucking saying? Where you're sending me?

Three expressions pass over her face. The ghost of grief, some kind of solace and then more vacancy. She swallows, turns around to keep folding baby clothes. Her voice trembles. She knows she's sending you to your doom. Knows what waits for you as soon as you go.

"You're going. We need this." She says, and still doesn't turn to look at you. Her voice is so frigid it doesn't sound like hers anymore. "That's final."

You shouldn't be shocked by it anymore, but it doesn't make it easier.

You slam the door on your wait out. You hope their plane crashes on the way there.)

You tried your best to worm your way out of the situation before the semester closed out. But Sukuna, three steps ahead of you at all times, made sure that wasn't possible. Your uncle owned a villa out on an island, private - and the bags had already been packed. You'll like it there, he assured you so many times, it's comfortable. There's a good view and the kids in the place will remind you of the kids you grew up with.

(It's hard not to notice the ways in which Sukuna tempts you into wanting to go. Though there's nothing, truly, that could make the experience a pleasant one - it's posed to appeal to you. A place to remind you of your childhood. You try not to think about it.)

Despite your protests, despite your vehement frustration - there was nothing you could do but go. If you didn't go with Sukuna, it'd be enduring 3 months alone with your grandparents. You could try to crash with friends but the friends you've made so far wouldn't dream of being so polite and you dare not think of burdening your childhood friends with your family problems. They deal with enough as is.

The last option was running away. You're desperate enough to entertain it. You do, several times - considering what the worst outcome could be. All scenarios end with Sukuna coming to find you, because he's crazy and connected like that. Even if he's deliberate in not displaying those parts of himself, you know his apathy to be a facade.

You know him well. He knows you well. It feels like a competition to see who can outsmart the other that you were forced into with no say.

So, come the end of your third year of college - a driver picks you up right as your finals are finished to take you to the airport. A private jet, a nauseating display of wealth just for your uncle to torment you with you're sure.

On the plane ride to a small island on the coast of Japan, you think to yourself that all gods in the world must've abandoned you before you were ever born.

The first few weeks of your stay in the island of Nii-jima prove to be uneventful.

For a small island, it's still governed through something related to Tokyo. It's not the city or even the country, some quiet and relaxing in between. There are people here who've lived for generations and others who are only touring. Your uncle's villa though, is far from all life - and a few miles out from a beach.

You can hardly understand what a single man needs such a big house for. There's staff there too, though less than at your grandparents place which you're grateful for. You've met six of eight, two of them people who take care of the yards and garden.

Sato-san is the woman you see most often. The one cook Sukuna has and the woman who's been working longest. She is kindhearted and sturdy, often bringing her grandchildren with her. She's quiet and motherly - and so warm you're unsure of how to behave around her. Your uncle is seemingly fond of her which is saying a lot. She speaks highly of him.

It's been so long since you've experienced something like maternal warmth, you're awkward around her. You try to not be too attached, try not to be fond of anything in this house because you know something horrible and dormant lies within it and you do not want to stay. Don't even want to entertain the idea of staying.

But Sato-san is good to you, with wrinkles and sunspots and a bright laugh. Her grandchildren are so well-behaved you wonder about how they were raised. A girl about seven and a boy about four, always quiet and inattentive. You've grown fond of them too, despite how bad you normally are with children. They're easy to be around.

You're frustrated mainly because you don't hate being here. The people are kind and welcoming and everyone locally is pleasant and good. You've been in the city too long, with insane people too long, and everything feels refreshing. The bus here is free and you can be at the beach whenever you like. You've made friends here - organically, with no strings attached. .

For the first time in your twenty years of living, you even have a guy you think is cute. It seems small, but back home everyone knows who you are. You've never had a relationship work out for one reason or another, but here? Here no one knows you, and the boy you meet at the beach with his friends is just a boy.

You don't want to like being here, but you do - and you don't want Sukuna to come back and he will. Nothing ever works out for you.

The worst of your luck you think builds on the edge of that thought.

You come home tonight doing a lot of things you would not normally.

For one, you've gotten yourself drunk. The reason being the cute boy aforementioned invited you down to the beach with his friend. You justified going thinking if you were going to be miserable all summer - a single good memory wouldn't kill you.

You had fun. Your swimsuit is underneath your short skimpy clothes, and you sat in his lap and made-out with him all evening. Got to pretend you were a normal girl and you got to kiss for the first time. You still reek of alcohol and his cheap cologne. Blissfully uneventful.

When you stumble into the foyer of the house with blurry vision and hear the T.V. playing, you know it instinctively that peace is going to be short-lived. You know that your uncle is home, and that he was waiting for you.

All the hairs on your neck raise. A shift in the atmosphere makes it hard to think clearly. Your lungs barely get enough oxygen in them to keep you upright. You think of leaving. You think of running up marble stairs to your room in hopes he won't catch you.

"Brat," Is yelled from the living room. Right, as if you'd ever get so lucky. You jump in your skin. "You home?"

Your stomach churns. You feel sick.

"Come to the living room."

You go obediently when Sukuna calls you, trying not to stumble over your two feet.You don’t think there’s more options than fearful compliance.

Your uncle is watching Scarface on the big flatscreen on the TV. The subtitles are on in Japanese though you don't think he needs them. He only barely turns his head to look at you, his interest piqued when he sees what you're wearing.

You feel sixteen again, self-conscious of your body and womanhood. He hides it even less than he did the first time - the leering. He notices your skimpy shorts and top, the bottom of your bikini. And he grins, and stares but doesn't say anything.

"Oh?" He says, calm and casual, glancing back at the T.V. "Finally went and had some fun did you? Thought all that studying turned you into a bookish little shut-in permanently."

You don't say anything, arm clutching your other self-consciously.

"Did you need something?"

He snickers, low and predatory. "Come on. You're here to spend time with me so let's spend time together."

You don’t bother asking where he’s been for the last few weeks. Your gut churns, feet heavy as they drag you to the far end of the couch. Sukuna stares as you sit hesitantly. You have no doubt he's going to make you move, but he's kind enough to leave you alone for now.

"Have fun on your..." He gives you another knowing look then laughs. "Outing?"

You aren't sure how to respond. "Just drank with some friends."

"Friends," He mimics, feeling the words out in his mouth. "The kind of friends that smudge the lipstick off your mouth, huh brat?"

You flush suddenly, embarrassed - and Sukuna barks a laugh. You don't know what he's expecting you to say there so you opt for nothing.

"Sorry," Is the only thing you can manage. Placating. He lets out a puff of air through his nose and relaxes further. There's an air to him, of nonchalance, that unsettles you more than if he was angry or unpleasant. Your throat bobs.

"You're a big girl now," He comments - sleazy and indignant. His indecency towards you, about you glints like a star. A sharp canine and piercing red eyes examine you from his peripherals. "Now that you're showing off it's only natural boys flock to you, hm?"

You can't explain the way this comment makes you feel. So much said with so little. The gap between is and has always been miles wide except sometimes it's not. Your uncle is unusual. Cold-blooded, manipulative, ruthless. There's no warmth in him in a comfortable, loving way.

There's even less of a normal relationship between you.

But you both exist in this space with... similar awareness. Of the world. Of yourselves. There's a conscious intelligence to him that's reflected in you - that you are both fractured parts of your grandparents bloodline in two separate bodies. That self-awareness affords him a presence. In your mind. In your fear.

You are undoubtedly related. Sukuna revels in that.

It’s rare to see that kind of awareness in your family. You’ve never felt threatened by people dumber than you, even if they had more power or money. Vapid and shallow and useless - there’d never been anything that could win you on. It might sound cocky, but it’s true. It’s been true.

It’s why Sukuna frightens you. He has everything, but above all - he’s smart. And hard for you to read.

You swallow, shakily - your eyes looking down at your hands. In a profoundly long beat of silence, the movie plays. A fair bit of gunshots echo through the loud speaker and they startle you.

"You scared? Come sit closer, then." He tells you, less than asks you.

You stand and sit next to him, still a distance away. Sukuna remains unmoving. You don't know what to do with yourself.The silence seems to stretch for miles and minutes. Sukuna just watches the T.V. and stares at his phone - occasionally answering messages. You stay like that for a long time.

"Need a smoke," He says, and it's not really directed at you. "Maybe later. Wouldn't wanna make you sick."

"People smoke around me all the time."

"Do you smoke?"

You shake your head, too tipsy to lie. He laughs at that. "Not even weed?"

You don't bother mentioning legality, you both know it doesn't matter between your lineage.

"Don't like the taste."

"How interesting. What a straight-edge kid. Most I've seen you get is drunk and this is the drunkest I've ever seen you. Still sober enough to talk clearly though."

"I just drink socially,"

"Ohh," He says, and then grins a little sharper. "A little shot of courage to fuck that little college boy then?"

This makes you jolt. "We didn't fuck—"

"No?" He looks genuinely surprised at this, though it's mild. "Poor kid must've wanted too if you came around him wearing that. Unless he came in his pants soon as you sat on him. Boys that age do stuff like that,"

The comment about his age reminds you of how old your uncle really is, and something in your chest flares hot.

"It wasn't that either—I've never-"

He cuts you off. "You're a virgin?"

You flush, stopping yourself from answering and he laughs.

"Ohhh, that's good. Very good," He grins, so genuinely pleased it makes you shiver. "I like virgins. Easy to please."

"That's—It wasn't for you."

For the first time in your relationship, Sukuna bridges the gap between you. He sits up and forward, his hand finding the bare skin of your knee. He rests it there, his thumb circling the flesh.

"Don't touch me," You hiss. Sukuna tightens his grip, but not threateningly. He turns to look at you that time, and you can't help but look back.

There's something in his degeneracy that horrifies you. It's fondness, you think. Genuine fondness.

"You sure?" He licks his teeth in a way that reminds you of a wolf. But not one that's starving. There's no desperation in his actions, but a self-assurance. Wolves don't often survive alone, but Sukuna has. And he hungers with the confidence of a predator who has killed all that stand before him. That's never been told no to what he wants to eat.

Your heart stops. Your voice a low whisper. "Stop,"

"You say that but you came in the house looking all desperate for sex and approval. You always look like that. Have for a little longer than what's normal for a girl your age,"

"I don't look like that!"

"You would've fucked that little college twerp if you stayed wouldn't you? Nothing wrong with honesty, brat."

Before you have a chance to understand what goes on around you, Sukuna changes position. You've never gotten a chance to feel and experience how strong he is - not like the way he's manhandling you now. You gasp at the arm around your waist and back. He pins you to the couch in a swift motion, not sure how he's done it, the alcohol making you dizzy.

Sukuna has never crossed the boundary with you like this before. Your heart is thumping loud, beating against your ribs. The source of it eludes you. If it's fear or discomfort or some other thing entirely causing such noice.

There's a certain blase in his attitude that makes you forget momentarily about the taboo and gives way just to the tension between you. You feel it for the first time with his body pressed against you, all hot and heavy. He smells of cologne, but it lacks the acidity cheap ones tend to have. There’s strong hints of cigarettes and aftershave accompanying it. Appearance wise, he has lines in his face like a man in his forties.

You don't know what's wrong with you. With a relationship so fucked up from the start, you thought crossing this line would feel different. You think you want to throw up, but you're completely calm.

You want to be disgusted. You want to thrash and kick and scream and fight. You squirm away from him, the threads of what's left of your moral conscience urging you to do so. Like a last ditch effort to keep you sane.

But there's just. Something. Something so inevitable about it that your heart doesn't beat at all. The panic itself feels hollow in nature. You are a rotted log and Sukuna has ripped the soft wood out of you with relative ease. But you’ve been that way for a long time, and nothing hurts. Not really.

It's relieving in the worst way.

"Get away from me,” You whisper again with noticeably less fight. Sukuna looks at you bright-eyed.

"You're a good kid," He says. The genuine praise knocks the air out of your lungs. That disgusts you more than anything else happening between you so far. "Interesting. A lot brighter than the other kids in our family."

Our family. You wince. .

"Stop, this is—" You don't know what word to use. He's your uncle and you're his niece and he's been gazing at you like this for god knows how fucking long. "Stop."

"You've got something going on behind your eyes at least, even if you're still just a wet-nosed and angry little housecat," He says, staring down at you. He's so imposing. His facial hair and his various tattoos. Everything about him, down to his bones. "But I can't tear my eyes away from you at the same time. You know that?."

You do know that. You cast your gaze away.

"I applaud how cautious you've been. But it didn't make a difference in the end. You know that too, right?"

You don't say anything.

"Clever little lamb you are, indeed. I like that about you." He hums, leaning down closer to you. His face is inches from yours. "You should be smart enough to know how this ends. But you know, you've been so entertaining to me this whole time I feel like I should at least be a little nice. So I'll offer you something. A deal of sorts, we can even write it on paper."

This catches your interest and he knows it does. He knows. You’re cut from the same cloth. And this place has made you lose your character, just like it always does. So if it means your survival and sanity or your morals, one comes before the other.

He grins at you.

"Come stay with me. Here in Nii-jima and back at my estate at home. I'll take care of your expenses and whatever else. I have better connections than the old hag," He says, leaning down even closer to you. You can smell him. He's intoxicating "You can be away from everything. I'll even let you have boyfriends and girlfriends over. You can throw sleepovers. I don't care. You can do whatever you want."

"What's in it for you?"

You can feel his knee press up against your cunt through your shorts and you gasp, hand going up to his shoulder. "This. Been thinking about this tight little cunt for a while now. You'd have to be at my beck and call. We'd be the closest uncle and niece in all of Japan," He snickers.

You wince at the reminder. You hate yourself for considering it. "Why me? There are plenty of women who are dying to fuck you."

He scoffs a little.

"Once we get you a little farther from the trenches kid, you might start to understand me. Wealth, fortune, fame - all of it's fucking boring. I came back to Japan prepared to leave again but you made me stay. Not much more to it than that."

"You're fucking your blood-niece out of curiosity? Your sister's daughter?"

"My sister never did anything good with her life except marrying your father and making you." Sukuna says, and laughs lightly. You hate how validated it makes you feel. Your skin crawls. "I'll have to thank her for it. She'll be pleased.

You make a face at him, uncertainty. Apprehension. Fear. Frustration. Everything you’ve been compartmentalizing comes bubbling to the surface and making your head feel weighted with lead. You want to kill everyone and everything including him. You want to run away from this place. You want to go home, though you don’t know where that would be anymore. They demolished your old apartment years ago.

You think spending a few years getting fucked and used might be less miserable than the suffocation of living with your mother and your baby brother and your grandparents. How much abuse you’ve endured already vs. what awaits you when their true heir starts to walk and talk horrifies you.

You look at him.

“You’re horrible.”

“Tell me something new.”

“I hate you. I don’t…want this. Any of this. I want to go home.”

You’re just venting. Really. You’ve made the choice already.

“Has there ever been a time where it’s been about what you want? I doubt it. But if you stay with me, appease my wishes for a while, well,” He laughs confidently. “You’ll get something, at least. Better than what you have.”

“The contract. Are you serious about that?”

He laughs at you. “Sure. If it makes you feel better, you can draft it and I’ll just have my lawyer sign. Bring your defenses. Whatever. Don’t really care as long as I get what I want.”

“And that’s me?”

“Seems like it,”

You purse your lips. It seems like a rash decision to make in the moment, but truthfully your heads never felt so clear. Even with the alcohol.

“...Fine.”

Sukuna hums when you agree. It feels anti-climatic somehow. Not that he’s not expecting your yes but that you’ve come to accept it so easily. It’s not like this takes away from the coercion, from the awful feeling of being violated. Sukuna was going to rape you whether you liked it or not. This way, at least, you get something out of it. This way it’s something you choose. Something tangible results from your inevitable doom - the fate your mother damned you to.

It affords you some plausible deniability too. In truth, you’re afraid for yourself. You’re afraid of what will happen when he finally does cross the line completely. You’re afraid you’re going to accept it, that it’s going to feel pleasurable, that years of repressing yourself will come back to make sure you never return to normalcy.

What will become of you when Sukuna has his way with you? Will you become a more apathetic version of yourself? Is it possible? Will you sober and feel like scrubbing your skin clean in the shower?

The worst outcome, you think, is nothing so horrible happening. The worst outcome is knowing you’ve fallen far enough for none of it matters at all.

Sukuna grins down at you. “What a well-behaved niece I have. Good girl. You’ll do well living with me.”

You make a displeased face at him, but your breath catches in your lungs soon after. Your uncle leans in to kiss you and you close your eyes trying to get away from it. But it’s true that your body has been burning up from the inside since you came back home - a dull throbbing between your legs turning you all kinds of stupid.

When Sukuna kisses you - your first thought is that he’s unexpectedly gentle.

You didn’t think he’d care about kissing to begin with. In your head you thought he’d tug off your shorts brutishly and fuck you without any prep. You were readying yourself for tears and pain, for screaming and crying - the sharp sobs of your own voice piercing your ears.

A gentle press of lips startles you from your drunk haze. You can feel the scruff of Sukuna’s face on your own, your arms wrapping around his neck instinctively. The taste of cigarettes and something else mildly smokey fill your mouth and make you dizzy. Sukuna tastes like kissing a man - or what you might’ve imagined that to be like. Not a boy, but a man. You feel his strength, your hands splaying at the base of his neck and feeling the faded undercut of his neck, the texture of his dyed hair. His weight shadows you, his strength making you feel fluttery.

He doesn’t tease you all during the kiss like you’re expecting. Nothing goes the way you expect. He kisses you in slow, short pecks and escalates to his tongue dipping against your lips - a little added element to his deep kisses. He kisses like he’s been doing it for longer than you have, with experience and finesse. You’re all but too conscious of everything little thing. About the sounds you make, about knowing when to breathe, about trying not to get wrapped up in the pleasant euphoria.

All you can think about is how good he is at it. Effortlessly good. You think part of you latches onto it to avoid thinking about what’s happening. Denial feels pleasurable at least.

You kiss like that for so long, your lips have swollen - sticky with spit and saliva. Sukuna has a self-satisfied smirk on his face when he pulls away from you, laughing at the flush in your expression.

You hit him lightly, looking away from his face.

“It’s a wonder you’ve kept your virginity,” He says, chuckling. “A kiss and a dirty old man like me could’ve taken it from you.”

“Shut up,” Your reply is weak. He laughs against your mouth, and you can’t get over the intimacy of it. You hope you’re deluding yourself but then he kisses the corner of your mouth. Hot, warm air tickles against your jaw and neck when he presses his lips there too and suddenly it occurs to you how real it is.

You don’t think your uncle is capable of warmth or love or anything that doesn’t come from coercion. But fondness. Maybe fondness.

He spends more time doing that than what’s comfortable. Relishes the feeling of you in his arms, his bulge grinding against your clothed cunt but not forcefully. Just with enough pressure to make you gasp once in a while when you don’t have a mind to fight it.

“I won’t take your virginity tonight,” He says declaratively. It surprises you. “You’ve got three months with me. It’d be boring. I’ll give you something else.” He looks at you then, then grins impishly. “What do you want?”

Your eyes widen, suddenly unsure of yourself. You push away, brought back to reality by the questions.

“How would I know?”

He blinks at you. “I know you said you were a virgin, but did you really mean in everything?”

You pout at him all of a sudden. “So what. I didn’t have that kind of time.”

Sukuna barks a laugh.

“Huh. I thought you were a goody two-shoes out of necessity but you really don’t do a damn thing in that house. Not even a boyfriend to do hand stuff with?”

“Ugh. No, alright? I don’t have time for that kind of thing like I just said.”

He laughs a little breathless, sitting up for a minute. You’re wondering what it means for you. Sukuna pulls you up along with him. He sits down again with his legs spread before looking at you. He pulls you into his lap with relative ease, until you’re half-way pressed into him with your legs over his thighs. You stare at him, feeling more exposed in this position. You get a closer view of his neck tattoo, realizing how far down his back it must go. You go to ask him what he’s doing - but he’s undressing you before you can.

Confident, large hands trapeze down your back as he finds the end of your overwear and pulls it off - leaving you in the microkini you wore to the beach. It barely covers your nipples. You made the choice to wear it, yet seeing Sukuna examine it so closely leaves you wallowing and regretful. Still, he’s silent as he does something similar with your jean-shorts. A hand lifting your legs up enough to roll the cheap, denim shorts and discard them right on the marble floors.

You’re still half-way over his lap - sitting on his thighs but you’re naked now.

You feel yourself growing self-conscious. Never mind that it’s the first time anyone’s seen you this naked, who exactly you’re showing it to makes you want to throw up. He stares for so long you wonder what he’s thinking, a lazy grin splitting his face. A hand nudges your thighs apart, moving your leg to give Sukuna more access to you. With an arm around your waist, his hand cups your cunt, rubbing it softly. You shift nervously. His thumb moves then, rests at the hood of your clit, pulling up to look closer at it. You hold back any noise as he examines you, bent pointer of the opposite hand brushing over the hair on your skin with a laugh.

“Unexpectedly, it’s pretty,” He says and your eyes shoot wide open. “Good job brat.”

“What are you,” You pant, your breath hitching as you close your eyes.”staring so much for it?”

“It’s mine to stare at.”

You don’t think of your uncle as particularly possessive. It’s more like he believes in that so much, so unshakingly nothing else could be true. You wonder if there’s more to it. He didn’t seem angry even after you told him about seeing a boy.

But comparing the two, Sukuna outclasses him in all ways that it should matter. He must be confident about that.

He spreads your thighs a little further. You’re half tucked into his side now - an arm around the back of his neck and shoulders. Sukuna ducks down a little, nudging his nose against your neck and scraping his teeth lightly against your throat. He doesn’t do much other than… touch you. Not directly. His other hand, the one not secured around your waist, rubs at your pussy but not in an attempt to pleasure you. It’s exploratory and intimate. He’s just touching you in a way that’s making you restless. And the angle he’s bent down, the proximity gives you a better view of him. From the side where you sit in his lap, you can see the tattoo again.

You shudder then, pussy suddenly clenching in a way that leaves you ashamed. Your uncle notices, though he doesn’t look up.

“Thought of something, brat?”

“No.” You deny, vehemently. He spanks your pussy but not hard. You jolt in reply, a shock traveling up your spine.

“C’mon now,” He hums, predatory. “Don’t lie. That’s not fun.”

“Y-your tattoo,” You say, suddenly feeling the influence of alcohol in a way you hadn’t all evening. “It’s…big.”

“Into bad boys or something, kid?”

You frown. “You look like a yakuza.”

This makes him laugh, more genuinely than you’ve ever seen him laugh. “Getting warmer, I guess.”

You don’t say anything to that. Instead spurred by the sudden confidence. “Why aren’t you…touching me?”

He looks at you surprised then tilts his head. “Is that what you want?

“I don’t want any of this but it,” You squirm again. “Feels weird.”

“Sounds like you want something, at least. Go on, tell your oji-san what you want.”

You scrunch your nose up at him, a familiar feeling of disgusting flitting through you. It fades as quickly as it comes.

“I’ve never put a-anything inside,” You admit, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

“That so,” He hums. His middle finger slides down the wet seam of your cunt as you tell him this. You nod but you don’t think he’s really listening. His hand is warm, and big - and his fingers are thicker than yours. One of yours may as well make two of his, no end to how imposing he is. You don’t protest as he starts to touch you. You simply take a deep breath, holding onto him a little tighter.

With your head turned towards him, Sukuna leans in again to kiss you. It’s deep from the beginning this time, and a little rougher. He bites lightly on your lower lips as his middle finger dips down towards your sex. Your insides are throbbing, hot and wet as you feel some friction. It’s the first time anyone else has ever held you in your life, every touched you directly like this. Against your will, your body is sensitive to the stimulus. Everywhere he touches you goes alight, and the kiss makes your tummy flutter. A tender feeling of want spreads you open, tears you apart right in front of him.

With parted lips and a heavy head, you kiss him as his middle finger dips down low enough to penetrate you. A soft gasp pulls from your throat.

It doesn’t feel unpleasant.

“I thought it was going to hurt more.” You admit, feeling him inside of you. It’s a new sensation but it’s not bad.

“It shouldn’t hurt if you’re aroused enough. And wet enough. You seem to be both.”

You frown at him, face pinching. It’s washed away quickly by the sensation of him pushing deeper. It’s hard to describe it as anything other than feeling something inside of you. Deep in a place you didn’t think it could go. You shake a little, trying to get adjusted. Sukuna does it carefully, slowly - thrusting in even strokes and keeping you focused on kissing so you’re not too conscious of it.

He’s not thoughtful, not really - but you can tell that he’s going slower for your sake and that makes your heart stammer uncomfortably. The last word you’d ever use for him is kind but he’s not being horrible and it’s unsettling you.

Once one finger goes in and out smoothly, your uncle starts to add another. You feel it that time, the stretch of it - gasping hard at the sudden sensation. Your breath catches in your lungs, hand clutching at his shoulder for purchase. He pulls away from your mouth, his breath near your ear.

“Easy, little one. Give it a minute.”

“It feels different. It’s,” You can’t form the words as two fingers penetrate you in full, slowly being eased inside of you until Sukuna is knuckle deep. Your breath hitches. “Not like it hurts.”

“It’ll feel good in a second.” He says assuredly, voice smooth and raspy against your ear. You feel combative at his confidence, but then a minute passes of him rubbing along your insides and something strikes against you like lightning. You pause, blinking confused as Sukuna laughs. “There it is,”

“There what is?”

“C’mon kid, I know you’re too busy with school but you don’t know something so basic about your own body?”

“What is it, oh.”

His other hand toys with your clit, rubbing it in slow circular motions as he gauges your reaction to the touch. You jolt from the sudden pleasure, getting used to it slowly. You didn’t realize how badly it was throbbing to be touched until he does it in full. Your mouth dries up immediately. Little shocks of electricity spark up through you as his hands go full in on your body. The combined pleasure starts to uptick, something building slowly but surely. It goes from not feeling like much to feeling like something. Feeling physical.

Your mouth drops open in sudden shock, eyes lidded as you moan unabashedly - unable to keep the sound at bay. You own a vibrator, use to cum quick and hard just to curb the feeling. You’ve had orgasms on your own but nothing has ever felt like this before. It’s undeniably satiating, mimics the feeling of eating something and nearly making yourself sick on it. You go slack-jawed, your nerves on fire.

Two fingers curled against your silken walls and another two toying at the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs leaves little room in your brain to think. The only thing your body seems to remember is how to moan and whine - make these pathetic little noises you’ve never heard in your life. You didn’t even know you could make. Oddly enough, Sukuna is quiet through it. He makes grunts and little affirmatives but he’s mostly silent. You mostly hear the sound of your own voice.

The sound of your own wetness. You can feel the sticky sensation of your arousal but you can hear it even better. It’s lewd to listen too, wet smacks mixing with the pathetic bleats of your voice make you feel hot all over. Skin prickling with heat and sensation.

“I knew you were sensitive but haah. If I would’ve fucked you today, you would have cried.”

The thought drifts idly by about his cock and your whole lower half reacts to it by going weak. It aches just thinking about anything bigger or longer entering you than his fingers.

“Figure an insolent little kid like you isn’t much of a crybaby. I’m sure I can make you one.”

You don’t even think about asking what he means.

“Feels,” You make a gasping noise, body suddenly going tense. “Hngh, fuck. Feels so good, holy fuck.”

He groans a little. “I’m being too nice to you. I really should be balls deep in your cunt already and I’m not. You gonna cum for me, huh brat?”

You nod your head dumbly, unable to retort. To think of anything but the sensation washing over you.”Go on. Do it. Cum for your perverted oji-san.”

Something about the depravity of it sets your mind numb. Your body goes tight, every nerve firing off at once as you grip onto his shoulder and let the feeling of euphoria wash over you. Your whole body is so stimulated it’s numbing. The feeling of pleasure crashes into you, leaves your spine arching - mouth dropped open and nearly screaming. Your sanity melts, fades off completely and your brain feels like it’s gone empty. You close your eyes so hard little splashes of white show up in your vision, like you’re seeing T.V. static.

You think you scream. You don’t know. You just know that you’re cumming, hard, just from his hands and you’re terrified of what else he’s good at. You don’t think it boils down to sensitivity as the waves of your first orgasm ripple through your body.

You lay in his arms, sweaty and limp. Your vision is blurry with tears as you open them to look at him. Sukuna is rubbing your side, taking his fingers into his mouth. You look at him surprised as he does. He grins.

“Tastes good, kid.”

You flush. “Shut up.”

“Don’t think I’m done with you quite yet.”

Sukuna guides your hand to his pants, over his bulge. You gasp a little at it. His size through clothes is astounding to you.

“I’m not so generous to leave with nothing, you know.” He pats your thigh, moving you from his lap. “I’ve got a better idea than trying to teach you anything today, so try to hold still.”

You don’t know what he’s talking about until he guides you on the floor. You’re confused until you feel him position you - facing towards the couch with your knees spread on the floor. In doggy, you realize a little too late, your upper-half supported by the couch cushion. You feel more confused than you felt a moment ago.

Sukuna positions himself behind you. You can’t see him, but you can hear the soft rustle of his clothes moving as he stands on his knees behind you. More than that, you can feel his cock resting on your bare ass. You gasp, feeling the weight and size slide against your curves. Sukuna does a breathy little laugh at your reaction. He’s huge.

“Don’t cry kid. I told you I wasn’t gonna put it in tonight and I meant that,” He hums. His hands come to your hips, all of a sudden pushing them together. “Push your thighs together as tight as you can.”

You listen to him. You can do it with some effort despite how weak your body feels. You lean forward on the couch for support, bringing your knees together and pressing your thighs. You don’t understand what it’s for until something hard pressing along your spine moves down the curve of your ass. You gasp aloud as his thick cock pushes between your thighs, tip catching against your swollen clit. Your whole body is covered in goosebumps. Sukuna moans low in his throat, resting his head on your shoulder.

“Fuck, that’s it.” He hums, sounding pleased. “Keep them tight for me, alright girl? Try to at least.”

Sukuna is wordless as he grips your hips, your flesh dimpling under his bruising grip. You're silent, your voice threatening to spill again as you try your best to listen to him. You keep yourself tight and firm, your hands gripping the couch cushions as Sukuna pushes his cock between the fat of your thighs and starts a pace.

The angle makes you gasp, body feeling weak at the way it touches your clit with each bump. Sukuna doesn’t hold back at all. You’re not being penetrated but the weight behind each of his thrusts makes you feel like you’re being fucked. The bruising sensation of skin against skin - the hard muscles of his own legs smacking against the softness of your thighs.

Most embarrassing is the way the position makes you conscious of your uncle's cock. You knew he was huge before, but the way he’s thrusting. Where it reaches when he does thrust makes your throat feel nearly tight. You can’t stop thinking about the fact it’ll be inside you. You can’t imagine taking it in your hands - the girth and length of it fucking impossible. And he wants to fuck you with it? Take your virginity?

He’ll stretch you so open if he does. You can barely think of it fitting in you. When you do, your whole body shudders in a horrible and pathetic way - a new wave of arousal striking a strange chord. As he bumps and ruts against your clit and your mind fills with such lewd images, a new wave of lust starts to pour through you.

It’s unhelped by the feeling of Sukuna’s cock - getting so close. The throbbing with each thrust and the low, throaty groans he keeps vocalizing against your ear. All of it proves to be too much for you. It shocks you when you feel yourself grow hot all over again. Not even being touched directly and so soon after your first - a mere few minutes.

And you find yourself with all your muscles tight, your hand reaching back for Sukuna as you plant your face against the cushions and let him fuck hard between your thighs. You feel incoherent, stupid and so fucking horny. You’ve never experienced it. You can’t think of what to moan, so you choose his name.

This makes him laugh as he bends over you, his teeth biting your shoulder blades.

“Gonna cum again from this brat? Aren’t you fucking easy? Come on, cum with me. Just like that, take it. Fuck, that’s it. Good. Good girl.”

It’s the last bit of tension that pushes you over the edge, whether you care to admit it. Your voice breaks as a second orgasm washes through you - more intense but much shorter than the first and you nearly fall limp. You only barely manage to hold yourself up as your uncle keeps thrusting relentlessly.

You can feel him twitch hard between your thighs when his orgasm finally hits. You shake as you feel him squish the tip between your thighs - hot ropes of cum spurting against the swollen mound of your cunt and dripping down your thighs as he finishes. He smacks your ass as he finishes, making you yelp. Your whole body is rife with exhaustion, finally coming down from high-highs and low-lows.

“We’re gonna have a lot of fun together for the next few months kid,” He says, almost affection in his words. You’re too exhausted to reply, looking at him over your shoulder. “Let’s get along and do our best.”

“You’re a sick-fuck, oji-san.”

“And you’re a whole lot like me, aren’t you kid?.”

#sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #sukuna smut #jjk smut #writing tag #dark content cw #incest cw #dubcon cw #abuse cw #grooming cw #<- kind of sort of not really hes just gross.#THIS HAS SO MANY TRIGGER TAGS .. SORRY

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grugruel · 3 days

Text

Say it Again

Pairings: Cooper Howard x f!reader

NSFW/MDNI

Masterlist

Summary: For a long time, there'd been a quiet, reciding fondness between you and your companion. And when you finally journey back to your old vault, feelings are stirred from the depths and brought to the surface.

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: (mentions of blood, violence, death), angst, pinv sex, passionate sex, strong feelings, "I love you", pet names (darlin', sweetheart, honey), hair pulling (squint and you'll miss it), overstimulation, creampie, praise (both recieving).

AN: Not yet proofread! Let me know what yall think about the music inserts. I figured since its such a big part of the fallout universe, I might aswell ad it in a fic too! Enjoy yall!!

The vault was open. . . It took my mind a few moments to wrap around the idea.

The thought of it being perpetually shut was so hard-wired into my being that I would've thought the gaping door a hallucination had it not been for my own departure a few months prior.

And I knew- I knew it ment nothing good. But perhaps they'd all left–alive, wandering the wasteland in search of better luck–a better life.

♪ Yes, pretending that I'm doing well

A familiar melody rang faint, barely reaching through the howling wind as it sang up a storm of scorching sand, whipping and tearing at my clothes.

In abivalence, I made my way toward the facade. Eyes examining the number 33 written in a bold, weathered font on the hefty external door.

A pang of guilt hit me–maybe I shouldn't have left, maybe I could've prevented whatever happened here. With the inhale of a calming breath, I stepped up to the construction, running the flat of my palm along the beaten but familar metal.

Then, without so much as a single thought of caution, I stepped over the threshold. The safety of a vault- my vault, was too fresh in my mind. That allong with the trust I placed in the hands of my shadow, suspecting his vigilance to be enough for the both of us.

Tracing the cool, grand archway with my fingertips as I entered, feeling the wear of oxidisation on its surface. Such a small detail I'd never payed any mind to before. How aged it was, yet still standing strong. A reminder of its resilience- of its impenetrable metal, planned to withstand outside threats for hundreds of years. And now, there it stood–wide open. The derision of the situation nagged me terribly.

♪ I'm lonely but no one can tell

When no longer veiled by the wind, the song sang clearly, its notes reverberating throughout the metal in a forboding fashion. Setting off a feeling of unease in the pit of my stumache.

While I stood familiarising myself again, I could feel a pair of eyes watching me, observing me. Monitoring my grief-struck and conflict ridden mind with a commiserating gaze. Their constant and reassuring prescence hovering behind me in semblance of a specter, keeping a respectful distance as my mind worked through what might have transpired while I was away.

♪ Oh yes, I'm the great pretender

The volume grew stronger as we made our way inside, my feet moving with slight hesitation as they clanged along the grated flooring.

♪ Adrift in a world of my own ♪

Stepping on the elevator, I steadied myself against the railing, feeling it vibrate beneath my hands with the frequency of the music. Those sweet well-known tunes only growing more and more eerie as we descended, accompanied by that strange constant hum from the bedrock, from the quiet. A white noise that only lived in vast open constructions such as this. Inhabiting the walls, the floor, and open spaces made from metal and stone.

A shiver ran down my spine, I'd never liked the quiet, despite the volume of the music, the quiet resounded. It'd always made to much noise in my mind.

♪ You've seen and you've left me to dream all alone

But when the doors opened to the floor below, a reassuring hand placed itself on the small of my back, amicably giving me a final push when I'd stood too long hesitating.

And it helped, it really did. The eclipsing stillness of the vault and the distorting of the music softened, fading and returning to that of good times–when they'd still existed.

♪ Too real is this feeling of make-believe

But the possibilities of what I might find ahead launched a gruesome assault on my mind. I tried distracting myself–thud, thud, thud. Our dull steps tapped against the floor. A pair of spurs clicking along with the steady rythm, leather groaning. Turns out I could only hear him, and I prefered it that way.

♪ Too real when I feel what my heart can't conceal

It was a better focus then the constant searching for bloodsplatter and unmoving bodies, splayed out on the floor or tucked into a corner, seeking shelter, protection–spurs, leather-

I snapped back, the lyrics echoing in my mind and bouncing of the walls simultaneously, resonating throughout the empty halls as I jumped off of that dark train of thought before it could spiral further. The hands scrunched the fabric of my clothes, silently checking on me, attempting to refocus my mind. On the music, on him, anything was better.

♪ Yes, I'm the great pretender

I followed the words, thinking of the ones before and those to come. I still remember the list of songs. They'd played during weddings and social gatherings. We had them in our houses. I remember dancing in the kitchen, with swaying to the music with those I love. It was one of those moments which you knew you'd remeber forever, which would become a core part of you. Always to be looked back on, and sure enough.

I could't help myself from smiling, such fond memories. In my peripheral, his eyes softened. Still keeping his vigilant watch over my well-being, returning my smile with no intention of ever telling me, unkowing that I had indeed noticed him as he did so.

♪ Yes, just laughing and gay like a clown

But now, as I wandered the abandoned halls of the vault, they were only a tragic reminder of a time gone by–yet, I could see no bodies, no evidence of a fight or struggle–relief flooded through me. However, I still didn't dare make my way down to the compost section, I'd walked that path to many times on my last day here.

♪ I seem to be, what I'm not, you see

The hand angainst my back brushed my clothed skin with a thumb, circling a vertebra, moving to squeeze my arm as it then fell back to his side. The loss of his touch was dissapointing, but the closeness of his body made up for it.

We took a turn, away from the chance of decaying bodies and toward the fields of crop. I wanted to see it one last time, remember that last wedding–the good times, before I left and the place had become this, before it was reduced to a graveyard of memories.

♪ And I'm wearing my heart like a crown

I found my eyes wandering as we walked, constantly sliding to the man beside me. An aching arose in my heart, the two of us could've been something real sweet. Something true, something strong. If only we had the freedom of chance and opportunity. But as it were, we simply coexist, solely striving to survive in a world swallowed up by nuclear waste and feral brutality. I don't know what I would've done without him, it was a long road for us to grow this close–we didn't get along too well when we first met.

♪ Oh yes, I'm pretending and praying that you're still around

The music tunes out, fading into quiet nothing, like dust particles leaving rays of light–simply seizing to exist. I felt the comparison too familiar for my liking, turns out anything is just a methapor for something else.

After waiting patiently and biding it's time, that strange hum takes up again. Making me wish he'd hold me steady, a d let the drumming of his heart be the only thing I hear. A wish that frequented my mind a lot as of late.

It's interesting how much you learn about yourself and the world when leaving the safety of your vault. The most ironic thing–radiation, and the fact that its the least to be worried about on the surface, the real danger being what dwells in the midst of it. Creatures–beasts, savages and monsters. The rad mutated animals are nothing compared to the barabarians that the human species have become, I really had no idea what stripping someone of their basic needs and a guaranteed future could do to a person before I entered the wasteland. And now, I cant help but marvel at the fact that only a few have resorted to eating eachother and worshipping radiation.

Dog-eat-dog is an old expression that comes to mind. Apparently it was used way before all of this befell us, and I can't help but imagine how bad we could've been back then to create such a phrase in a law-abiding society. But they were the poeple to destroy the world and we to rebuild it, so perhaps its not that strange after all.

Either way, I don't remember it personally. I wasn't alive back then, but it was told to me by someone who was.

The next song started up, the sorrowful tune keeping the deafening white noise at bay, and as I had predicted the list, it was my favorite to be played.

♪ There's a place where lovers go

To cry their troubles away ♪

The tape, surely damaged–played a slower version than I remembered, but it was all the same to me as I let it envelop me in a veil of comfort before finally laying eyes on what we'd come here for–corn. I felt their green stems beneath my fingers as I walked along the field, it was a miracle they were even alive and surviving whatever hardships they'd encountered. Another metaphor.

There came a rustling behind me, my companion doing the same as I had. A scarred hand reaching out to slide his fingers through the crop, keeping a stunned expression on his face, the corners of his lips curling upward.

♪ And they call it Lonesome Town

Where all the broken hearts stay ♪

It must've been a long time for him since feeling something living like this. Much, much longer than it had for me. And I'd just taken it all for granted.

Keeping our pace, we followed the path through the crops until fianlly, the familiarity of a huge wall welcomed me home.

Surrounding me was a vast sky with millions of stars and endlessly stretching mountains, following a path so distant I could not spot the end, all the while the high moon cast silvery blue light upon the world. A projection of the Nebraskan countryside. I used to stare at it for hours, dreaming myself away to a place that no longer existed. 'Did it really look like this? The world- I mean.' I hatched out of me.

♪ You can buy a dream or two

To last you all through the years ♪

'It sure did.' My companion turned to face me, choosing a lesser view over the pretty one before him. He was a mere arms-length away. 'It could be real beautiful.' He said, his eyes roaming my face.

♪ And the only price you pay

Is a heart full of tears ♪

He was a brute, that is true. He was the outcome of living through literal hell, but he'd fared quite well through it all in my opinion. He had his humanity left, which is more than I can say for the majority of the population. Charming and quick-witted, dangerous and cold. He'd seen who we were and what we had become, it's no wonder he acted the way he did. But it was all the same to me, he was strong and handsome, he could even by kind-hearted at times, and I loved him through it all.

♪ Goin' down to Lonesome Town

To cry my troubles away ♪

The implication made me blush, and shy away from his eager eyes while I averted my own, leading them back to the contryside. 'I wish I could've seen it.' I tried to focus, studying the sight meticulously, jotting down every detail in my mind. I hadn't had time the last time I was here- not to dwell. Too late now it seemed, the memory resurfacing with a passion as my eyes drifted over the scorching cloud in the sky, burned into the irreplaceable film. My lips drew into a thin line as I swallowed, it was reality, it was life. But it didn't stop my stumache from churning, the stench of wet metal revisiting my nose.

♪ Goin' down to Lonesome Town

To cry my troubles away ♪

A scarred hand reached up to brush strands of hair from my face, again, distracting me mercifully. Rough knuckles gently sliding over my cheek and the neighing of my jaw. 'I wish you could too.' He grasped my chin between this thumb and index finger, tilting my face upwards, our gazes meeting eachother.

♪ In a Town of broken dreams

The streets are filled with regret ♪

I leaned into his touch, for it was rare. Rare that he allowed himself simple pleasures such as touching me, even though I would willingly give myself to him at a moments whim. 'I love you.' I whispered. 'Please, please let me.'

♪ Maybe down in Lonesome Town

I can learn to forget ♪

The music glitched, the sound warping spookily as the needle scratched and jumped the groves in the needle. Shutting off for a second and then coming back on, restarting the song.

He shook his head, eyes uncharacteristically soft as met mine. Uncharacteristic to anyone but me. 'I can't feel ya', sweetheart.' He reclaimed his hand and took a step back, squeezing it into a fist, frustration shaking it as he cursed himself. The music tuned out, and all I see was the blue light contrasting his red-burnt skin, enforcing its texture as shadows settled in the contours and the pale silver on his high points. All I could hear were his words, the frustration and insufficiencies hinding in his tone, mirroring my own. 'Can't feel your fuckin' softness, cant feel your skin.'

'You can–' I followed his movement, gaining on the distance he'd created between us. '–it might not be ideal, but it's us.' I slid my fingers along his clothed arm, grabbing his coarse hand.

'I'm here, not perfect, and that's what you can feel. Imperfection. . . It's something that belongs to us.' I gave him a faint smile, doing my best to reassure him. To truly make him understand.

'I dont deserve you.' He leaned his forehead against mine, his cowboy hat sliding up his head as he did so.

It was my turn to shake my head now. 'Oh, but if you only knew what you desvered.' My voice broke, eyes watering. 'The world, coop. You've been through so much, you survived the bombs dropping for fucks sake, and the following 200 years after that. What you did during those years was for your own survival, please do not ever feel bad about any of it.' The silence that ensued became too long, too deafening. 'I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, so beautiful in your own right.' A tear fell down my cheek.

'I dont feel bad 'bout it sweetheart, thats the problem. I aint any of that, 'm a selfish killer. There's nothin' left of who I were–the good part. . .' his hand slid down my arms, squeezing my biceps to emphasize. '. . .what little good there was, it died a long time ago.' His drawl thick as he spoke, kissing my forehead. 'You can do better, 'n I cant allow those precious years of yours to go to waste on somethin' like me.' He wrapped his arms around me, placing one hand on the back of my head, cradeling it to his chest as he pulled me close, resting his chin on top of my head. The wetness of my cheeks transfering to his shirt. 'Don't cry, sweetheart. Dont cry 'cause of me.' He kissed my forehead again, working his way downward–cheekbone, jaw and finally–my lips.

His hands slid down the outline of my body, shoulders and ribs, then settled on my waist. He pulled me closer, deepening the kiss in the same motion.

♪ Maybe down in Lonesome Town

I allowed him to kiss me for too long, I allowed him to believe his own words for too long. I pulled free, tearing away to breathe, to lock my eyes on his. 'I dont want who you were, dont you understand?' I cup his face, truly feeling him beneath my fingers, and loving every bump and dent. 'I want who you are now, scars and all. It's not for you to allow me anything. Get that in your head.' My voice had gone harsh, and even though he needed to hear it with all the conviction I muster, I added 'Please. . .' As softly as I could.

♪ I can learn to forget

The last notes of the song died out.

He shook his head as a small, breathless, humorless chuckle erupted from his lips. '. . .I love you too. . .'

♪ Only you

The next song started, the voice vibrating through his bones. A song he'd danced to when it was first released, twirling a life that no longer existed in his arms. He closed his eyes, humming along to the tune as he embraced the memory, arms wrapping tightly around its waist, hugging it lovingly one last time. Then let go.

♪ Can do, make this world seem right

He mouthed the words as he opened his eyes, finding her sweet face looking up at him, his pretty girl. It'd taken him more than he wished to admit, to say those three words. How such meak and fruitless words had cause him so much turmoil, he didn't know.

♪ Only you

Because when he looked at her now–stars projecting in her glimmering eyes, the wetness of tears remaining on her cheeks, anf with the backdrop of a countryside from a bygona era–the prevailing feeling was grief, a mourning over the precious time wasted, time he could've spent in admitant love with her. Holding her, kissing her, loving her. Things he just hadn't allowed himself to concede to, to fall slave under it. To truly feel it from the bottom of his heart–instead, reciding in the pit of it, in some dark, tucked away corner, was the feeling of being lesser and undeserving of her softness, her own kind heart.

♪ Can do, make the darkness bright

'Come.' She said, a faint smile on her lips as she grabbed his hand, pulling him with her. Away from the corn, away from Nebraska. He followed her willingly, blindly trusting her as she pulled him to wherever. He didn't care, as long as he was with her.

♪ Only you and you alone

The music grew fainter, devolving into a sweet hum, a lullig as the distance of the speakers tossed the sound boucing after them, echoing along the vaults longevous walls while they moved through them.

He turned her hand over as they walked, observing it quietly as he rubbed gentle circles into the plush skin of her hand, admiring what softness he could feel, his distorted hands dulling the sense unbareably.

♪ Can thrill me like you do

But it didnt matter in the end. Imperfection is what she'd said, and it belonged to them. His heart ached, eyes drifting over the small form leading him. The way her hair swayed and body moved, he could feel himself harden. Guilting himself. It was love for a woman, a family, that had once driven him to survive- with that life now long gone, it was that beautiful girl infrontnof him that kept him going.

♪ And fill my heart with only love for you

They passed several doors with accompanying mailboxes, until she slowed and halted her steps so suddenly, she almost collided with his chest. Her form stood frozen, contemplating, just as she'd done when they first entered the vault.

A scorched finger rose up to stroke her cheek. 'You alright, sweetheart?'

♪ Oh, only you

'Mhm. . .' She hummed. 'One moment.' And whipped around to face him, opening his saddlebag to rummage through it.

Unsuspectingly, a blush crept it's way up her cheeks, seemingly caused by the intent gaze he focused so tightly on her.

♪ Can do, make all this change in me

They'd just kissed, professed their love. Yet, it was his closeness, his warm breath against her that made her blush. He'd never want to be anywhere else. His gaze wandered, studying the home they stood infront of. Eyes landing on a mailbox, he read the full name aloud with a loving smile on his lips.

'I like the way it sounds when you say it.' She whispered, a coy smile on her lips. Suddenly- her eyes widened, finding what she'd been looking for, she pulled the object out of the bag, holding it up for him to see. An old pipboy.

"Welcome" it read, and as she turned one of the kogs, the door to the house opened.

♪ For its true

It was exactly the way I remembered it, not a detail out of place–rather an added layer of dust coating every surface of the place.

I ran a finger along the top of my scratched desk, gathering a pillow of dust on top of it. And then I saw it, standing lonely and abandoned–my old radio. Glee filled me as I turned it on, reflecting the song that was already playing outside. Filling my little house with soft waves of sweet tunes, all thr while weighing my heart terribly. Strong nostalgia splitting me in two. 'I used to love dancing.' The words left my lips in a soft murmur. 'Some of my favorite memories are from this kitchen, and now. . .' My voice broke. Inspected the dust and rubbed it between my fingers, observing how it crumbled to the floor. Perhaps another meatphor–how I myself am responsible for my old life crumbling.

♪ You are my destiny

A pair of hands found my waist, a chin coming to rest on my shoulder. He pulled me close, my back thudding against a strong chest. 'Its alright. . .' He breathed against my neck. 'We can make new ones.' Kissing my skin softly as he began moving with the music.

♪ When you hold my hand

My lips curled into a smile as I declined my head against his chest, snaking my hand behind his neck as the other fell on top of his hand, squeezing it with gratefulness. 'Thank you.' I whispered.

♪ I understand the magic that you do

He twirled me around, luring a giggle to erupt. He caught and pulled me close again, this time face to face. His eyes were still so clear, such a stark contrast to his muddled skin.

♪ You're my dream come true

The lyrics seemed to speak for us as my fingers interlocked behind his neck, my thumbs brushing his jaw. While his hands squeezed my sides, exhaling a long breath as we swayed, his eyes intently searching mine. 'I love you, sweetheart.'

♪ My dream come true

Without hesitation, my lips met his. 'Then prove it to me Coop. . .' Coyness tugged on my lips, my hands sliding to the buttons of his vest, '. . . Let me feel it.'

♪ Oh-oh, only you

He grinned against my lips. 'Anyhtin' for my girl.' And his hands wrapped around mine, helping them unbutton his clothes, skiding them off of him. Barechested as he was, he twirled me again. Back to chest, he whispered in my ear, 'Your turn, darlin'.'

♪ Can do, make all this change in me

Gladly, with my hands still guided by his touch, I brushed them along my torso, undoing every button of my shirt as I did so and slid it off my shoulders, my bra coming off next. He cupped them eagerly, a groan leaving his lips as he massaged them. Ingiting a pulse deep in my uterus. The music seemed to tune out off my mind, selective hearing I suppose.

Moaning in response, I could feel him harden as he pressed his hips into my ass. 'Need to feel it.'

'Undress.' Was all he said, removing his own clothes as I did mine.

A short moment later, he had my back pinned against a wall and my legs wrapped around his hips as he held me up with a firm arm around my waist–the other busy lining himself up with my core.

Suddenly- he pushed inside, leaving me as a whimpering mess. 'Good girl, sweetheart. . .' He whispered, doing nothing to ease the aching matter. '. . .sound so pretty for me.'

And without warning, he pulled out, and thrusted back into me again with full force. 'Mmh- Fuck!' I cried out. But his lips were on mine before I could fully register how big he was. Again and again, he trusted right into my core. His tongue fighting for control as it battled my own. My body was aching with a burning want for him, a need so strong I already felt myself closing in on my orgasm. '. . .'M gonna cum, Coop. Slow down, p- please. I stuttered the words, strained breaths dividing the sentence.

'Its ok sweetheart, you're doin' so well.' He reassured me, then took my words as a direct command and pushed us off the wall, walked over to the bed and threw us onto it with a cloud of dust kicking up around us.

Obiding my request, he backed up, hooked my legs over his shoulders and re-entered me with a shuddering moan. The feeling of my core effecting him as badly as his member effected me. With one hand burried in my hair, the other palmed a breast while his lips found my neck, gently taking my skin between his teeth as he pushed so deep inside me I almost screamed, but managed to bite my lip to keep quiet. That's when I felt him shake his head against me. 'Don't go all quiet, let me hear ya', honey.'

And so I did, releasing a string of curses disguised as moans while I wrapped my arms around his neck, placing kisses on his cheek while nuzzling my face against him. But I felt that blinding pressure building again, slower this time, but with an unrelenting force.

His warm breaths against my neck accompanied by the feeling of him inside me and the slick sound we created had my head swimming. It was too much, too fast. But this time, I wanted it. '. . .'M close Coop.' I whimpered.

'Me too, honey. Real fuckin' close.' He panted, voiced muffled as he kissed and sucked at my neck, hands fisting my hair and squeezing my breast. His thrusts began faltering as we both approached climax. 'Fuck, feel so good.' He cursed, groaning the words in my ear as our bodies rocked together, moving in sync. I was aflame, the pulsing in my body acting the accessory to his own members pulsing inside me. My eyes screwed shut, he felt so fucking good it was a simple reflex.

He kissed his way along my throat, pulling on my hair to angle my jaw for him, his lips trailing along it's sharps points, then up my cheek, settling in my lips. 'Look at me.' He breathed.

I wanted to listen to him, but my eyes did not. The pleasure was to much, the wall inside me so near collapsing-

'Look at me, sweetheart.' He ordered again, his voice sharper this time.

Having no other option I forced myself to open them. But it was worth it, listening to Cooper always was.

'Good girl.' He praised, his lips colliding with mine. And that wall burst, his words being the final battering ram. Tidal waves of pleasure rolled through me, roiling like crashing waves inside me. 'Love you, sweetheart.' He moaned.

No words would ever spur me on like those ones did, my uterus was quaking with every act of him. 'Say it again.' I pleaded.

'I love you' he whimpered. . . Whimpered. Strong and dangerous as he was, he whimpered as he came inside me. His rocking thrust strained as he continuing rutting into me, doing his best to lead us through our orgasms.

'Good boy, Coop. Again. . . Please.' I begged.

And he listened, repeating the words "I love you" against my lips, his voice pitching and breaking from the sheer pleasure he was submitted to. And when moving to softly nip at my ear, he whimpered those same three words in my ear over and over again until I felt a wetness on my cheeks–tears, I realised. He was overstimulating himself, crying as he made love to me. 'Fuck-' he shuddered the word, the slickness he'd created only coaxing more sounds out of him. 'Love you real fuckin' hard, darlin'. . .' He cried again. And I could've reached a second orgasm from that alone.

'I love you too Coop, love you so much. Youre so good to me.' I reassured him, my own voice near a cry as he was putting me through the ringer in the process. Finally, he began slowing down, his entire body shuddering from the way my insides clenched around him, milking the juies out of him. He kissed me one final time, then pulled out and collapsed beside me.

I had to take a moment to collect myself before turning to face him, my hand reaching up to brush the wetness from his cheeks.

His eyes met mine, both full of unconditional love. We laid like that for some time, loosing ourselves in eachothers gazes as we regarded one another in silent contemplation. All the while I could feel his seed leaking out of my core. 'You're a good man, Cooper Howard.' I whispered.

'I do what I can to deserve ya', sweetheart. The day I'm anythin' else but good to you-' He began. But I stopped him, not wanting his thoughts to walk down that road.

'You'll never be anything but good, Coop.' I inclined my head, kissing him softly before I nuzzled my head into the crook of his neck. 'Don't forget it.' My voice a murmur against his strong neck as I slowly drifted off to sleep within the safety of his embrace.

♪ We'll meet again

Hand in hand, our gazes stay on the halls infront of us as we walk back the way we came.

♪ Don't know where, don't know when

My eyes were on the sand as we left, attempting to distract myself by studying the way the the kernels dent beneath my weight. But with a deep breath, I stop and raise my pip-boy clad arm, looking back toward the falling night, toward the empty timecapsule.

♪ But I know We'll meet some sunny day

The words once again faint as they stab through the howling wind. I turn a kog on the pip-boy, and the vault door rolls into motion. The world around us painted in red-pinkish hues as the door's mechanics shut in the echoing vocals completley, the entrance closing with a heavy, reverberating grating sound.

I can feel my heart thudding hard, beating with a sadness and re found happiness. Revisiting my old home had given me melancholy and a new love. 'You coming?' The voice was soft, considering–unwilling to leave my mind wandering through old, lonely thoughts.

'Let's go.' I murmured, my eyes still on the weathered number 33 as the wind whipped at my cheeks.

'Look at me, sweetheart.' my love drawled, gathering my attention, and I redirect my gaze to his. 'We'll come back.'

I nod. 'We will.' A faint smile make its way to my lips as I stood on my toes to place a kiss on his lips.

Then, with his hand in mine, we wandered the wasteland. Searching for better luck–a better life.

#fallout #fallout imagine #fallout smut #fallout fanfic #cooper howard smut #cooper howard #cooper howard x you #cooper howard x female reader #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard fanfic #cooper howard imagine #the ghoul smut #fallout x reader #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul fanfic #the ghoul imagine

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written-in-flowers · 3 days

Text

Their Pretty Pet: Sanhwajoong x Fem!reader

Pairing: Incubus!Hongjoong, Incubus!Seonghwa, Incubus!San x Fem!Human!Reader | side pairings: SanHwaJoong

Genre: smut, loads of it MINORS DNI

Word Count: 7k

Summary: Being brought before Lords of Inferno, you expected to be killed on the spot, except the three incubi take an extreme liking to you instead. You are the pet they've been looking for, and you should could yourself lucky.

Tags: Master/Slave relationship, polyamory, mmmxf, foursome sex, triple penetration, oral sex (m. and f. giving/receiving), rough oral sex, vaginal fingering, handjobs, pet names ("pretty" "pet" "whore" "slut" "bitch" "kitten" "darling" and variations/ "master" "my lord") monster fucking, demon fucking, belly bulging, bigdick!ateez, creampies, massive creampies, degradation, slight humiliation, slight dumbification, multiple orgasms, multiple positions, rough sex, bisexual sex, breeding kink, vibrating demon dick, spanking, nipple play, breast play, cum swallowing, deep throating, anal sex.

@pirateeznet

***

The nerves rattled your bones, and weakened your knees. Your mind told your feet to keep up with Rufus, but your body did not cooperate. Only by the tug of a chain did you finally move. Even with the hot steam coming from the stone cracks, and the warm air blowing through the night, a cold sweat came over you. You had no business coming up the Black Keep. Sinners like you are meant to be an amusement for the lower demons; you committed sins in your life that earned you a spot in the third level of Hell. You spent eternity in the brothels of the inner circle, being a pleasure slave to anyone with enough coin.

You’d learned high class only pays for well bred slaves or lesser demon forms. The ones trained in the finer arts, who can speak multiple languages, can do magic, and are skilled in instruments of culture and torture. You only learned the sexual practices Your clients and owners taught you.

They won't want you, and the moment they realize what you are, you're dead.

“Stop dawdling, wretch,” Rufus, a large, muscular demon with bright red skin and tall black horns, tugged on your chain harshly. He then growled when you did not move. “Lords do not wait on bottom dwellers like you.”

You said nothing as you forced yourself to move. In your flimsy shift, you could feel every brush of hot air blow past you. It normally did not bother you, but it felt hard to breathe through your tight chest. He guided you to the tall wooden doors with their gargoyle head knockers. In three loud slams of the knocker, the door creaked open. On the other side stood a very tall man with black hair parted to the side. He wore a black and white suit and gloves. Round eyes carried a certain haughtiness that you'd grown used to seeing.

“Can I help you?” He asked.

“Evening, I have come to see The Masters Hongjoong, Seonghwa and San. I have brought a prospective pet for them,” Rufus responded, tugging your chain to bring you closer.

The butler took one look at you, then stood aside. “Very well. Follow me. They are just finishing with another proprietor.”

Rufus didn't like the idea of another slave owner being in the castle. It meant competition, and he hated that. He, as always, took it out on you by roughly pulling on your leash. The butler led you through a hall of black and white marble, surrounded by landscape paintings and other ancient possessions. A candlelit chandelier hung from the high ceiling, bathing the room in a bright golden glow. The carpet liners on the floor felt soft beneath your feet, and the castle did not feel as hot inside. He took you around the staircase into an adjacent hallway, where you saw her.

A succubus and her handler left the room; the handler seething and the succubus in silent tears. From her expensive lace and satin halter dress to her gold sandals, to the golden ornaments in her hair, you knew a succubus when you saw one. She had real horns and a real tail. Rufus paid a stylist to braid and glue ram horns into your head; then he paid a leatherworker to create a realistic tail to seal on your tailbone. The braiding pained your scalp, the glue made you nauseous, and the tail swished uncomfortably. How long did Rufus think this charade will last? Long enough for him to run off with the money, no doubt. You hated thinking of what would happen when your “owners” find out you’re not a demon at all. They’ll tear you apart, and send you to the deepest pits where the worst of the worst suffer an eternity of torment.

The thought terrified you.

“Masters,” the butler said when he entered a sitting room, “Another slave owner has arrived with a prospect for you.”

The voice inside the room turned quiet. “Who?” asked a particularly high voice.

The butler turned to Rufus, “Name?”

“Rufus, from the House of Kisses.”

The butler repeated this to his masters. “Bring him in,” the voice finally said.

Rufus brought you into the room. Full of warm light, pricy decorations, and extravagant furniture, you'd never been amongst such opulence before. Three loveseats sat in the middle of the room around a square coffee table. A different man sat on each one. You knew they were incubi by the small curved horns on the crown of their heads. Demons of lust carried this trait, as well as long black tails to match. The petite man with hair the color of fresh cherries spotted you first. He casually drank from a brandy glass as he observed you. His satin black shirt and slacks gave him a trendy look that would kill in the living world.

Beside him in the center on the white couch sat a long-limbed man with black hair reaching his shoulders. Angular features gave him a deadly appearance that matched the glint in his dark eyes. The cream colored shirt he wore was kept together by a matching corset and pants. He didn’t look up at first, since he focused mainly on the book in his lap instead.

The third sat on a couch of dark blue cotton with gold pillows. His big shoulders stretched the blazer he wore, which you noticed covered nothing but his bare chest. Sculpted and tan, he was to die for.

And you just might when they learn the truth.

“Slaver,” the butler addressed Rufus, “May I present Lords Hongjoong,” he gestured to the red haired man, “Seonghwa,” he motioned to the man holding the book, “And San.”

“Well met, my lords.”

“Well, well, well,” Hongjoong said in a bored voice, knocking back the rest of his drink, “Look, Brothers, another slaver coming to waste our time.”

“Oh, no, my lord,” Rufus said, “I promise your time will not be wasted on this one.”

“Why is that?” asked Seonghwa, putting his book aside.

“This one here's a true blood succubus,” he said, already putting on his salesman voice. “Born and bred in the valley, she is a true born demon. She's nothing like the half-breeds and soulless human shells those other charlatans bring before you. See here, my lords?” He roughly pulled you to them by your horn, “These are real succubus horns! And this tail!” He yanked on your long, thin tail, “Is entirely her own. I know some slavers have been sticking on fake parts, but I assure you, my lords, this one's the real thing!”

The three men looked at one another, then back to him. “Bring her closer.”

Rufus pulled you over to them, letting you stand in the warm firelight. Three pairs of eyes stripped off your dress, and peeled back the layers of your skin to your soul. San's thin eyes fell heavy when he saw you fully. Seonghwa held you with intrigue, while Hongjoong looked ready to devour you. You gulped thickly and did not look at any of them directly.

“What can you do?” Hongjoong asked.

“Do, my lord?”

“Yes, do. Can you speak any languages besides the common tongue?”

“No.”

“Can you read and write?”

“Some.”

“Can you sing?”

“No.”

“Dance?”

“No.”

“Do you specialize in any form of magic?”

“No.”

The more he asked, the dumber you felt. You wanted to tell them to look at you. You are not a demon, let alone a succubus.

“Then what can you do?” He asked, laughing softly.

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa said, “Stop being so mean. It's not her fault.” He stood up and walked towards you. Lifting your head by the chin, he said, “The only thing these low born succubi are taught is how to suck cock…isn't that right, pet?”

“Yes,” you squeaked.

“And can you do that?”

“She certainly can, my lord!” Rufus said from behind, “YN is one of my best! She's made men cum in less than two minutes!”

“I was asking her,” the man snapped. “I personally have no interest in slaves who do quick, sloppy work. I like to take my time.” He touched a strand of your hair, feeling the texture and taking in the length. “You'll need good grooming,” he noted flatly. “Luckily, Wooyoung is an expert in his field. He'll make you shine, little pet.”

It happened then, or at least you think it did. A flicker of realization hit Seonghwa as he looked over your face. He gave an audible sniff, his demon senses beginning to tingle. Yet, he said nothing about it, and turned your head to examine you in the light.

“Can she fight?” San asked Rufus.

“Psh, can she fight?” He scoffed comically at the question, “Of course she can! She used to be a pit fighter in-”

“-Can you fight?” He turned to you.

“No.”

“Why would she need to learn how to fight, San?” Hongjoong asked, annoyed. The butler came around to refill his drink. “She won't be doing any of that. She could get badly damaged, and then where would we be, hm?”

“Do you like going to the arena?” San asked, ignoring Hongjoong.

“I've never been there.”

San nodded, then leaned back on his couch and held out his glass. The butler poured more brown liquid for him, and you watched him take a drink.

“Yunho,” Seonghwa left you by the fireplace and went to his couch, “What do you think of her?”

“Master?” Yunho asked, confused.

“Yes, what do you think of her? You'll be around her too. Is she pleasing to look at in your opinion?”

Yunho turned to you, and seemed to be really looking at you now. He scanned over your horns the most. They’re meant to look like his, curled and rolled back from his face. If anyone could spot fake ones, it should be him. You expected him to out you, but he instead said, “Yes. She is lovely.”

The three men appear to take this into account. “Take off your dress,” Hongjoong orders.

“Well, hold on now, my lord,” Rufus begins to say, “We haven't discussed-”

“-I am not paying for something without inspecting it myself,” Hongjoong glared at Rufus. The ghoulish demon falters at this, and you see him back away. Hongjoong turned back to you, “Your dress. Take it off.”

You immediately unclip the back of your dress and let the top half fall over your belt. The sight of your breasts stunned the three men. Their eyes focused on them before you loosened your belt and let the rest of your clothes fall. Seonghwa bit the corner of his lip, trying to control his breathing as his eyes fell between your thighs. This is not the first time customers examine you. You’d grown used to it over the years of being in Hell. You are a toy to be played with. You are not your own anymore. You lost that when you began your life of lust, greed and overindulgence. When presented with the option to continue punishment or serve demons instead, you took servitude over the painful torture. In a way, enslavement was its own breed of torture.

Hongjoong turned in his seat, leaning against the arm rest as he continued gazing at you. San coughed and covered his own interest with a drink, but he still kept his eyes on you.

“Beautiful,” Seonghwa breathed. “Absolutely stunning.”

“You keep her groomed between her thighs but not the rest?” Hongjoong asked Rufus, though he kept his eyes on you.

“That's what they care about the most. My patrons do not have your refined tastes, my lord.”

“Clearly. Come here.”

You walk to him, which brings a smile to Hongjoong's face. “You obey instructions well,” he said, looking back down to your sex. “I like that.”

He gently touched the outside of your thigh, feeling the smooth skin and groping the supple flesh. You took in how his fingers felt on your thigh, the sensation sending shivers throughout your body. Hongjoong ran his hand up and down your thigh before reaching around to your backside. He gave one cheek a tender squeeze, humming his approval.

“Very nice,” he commented, moving his hand between your thighs. You gasped when his fingers brushed your exposed center. “Very, very nice,” he said, rubbing his knuckle lightly along your slit. He chuckled when he heard your whimper. “Do you like that?”

“Yes.”

He licked his thumb while maintaining eye contact, then he dragged it across your lips. A soft whimper escaped your throat as he traced the outer folds one by one; right when you thought he'd finally touch more, he dipped away. Finally, Hongjoong rolled his thumb around your clit, running over it languidly. Once a bit of wetness covered his thumb, Hongjoong tasted it while he gazed up at you.

“Delicious,” he said, going back to rubbing your sex torturously slow. “I could get used to this.”

“Stop hogging,” griped Seonghwa. He took your hand to lead you from Hongjoong's black leather sofa to his pure white one. He took over, and you gasped when two thumbs pushed your lips apart. “The best way to know is to taste it right from the source,” he said, leaning forward.

A single swipe of his tongue made you quiver. You weren’t sure if they enjoyed reactions, so you kept silent and stiff. Seonghwa took both sides and dove right to your center. You felt his tongue gingerly swiping at your damp lips, sliding between to tease your clit as much as possible. Your teeth dug into your bottom in an attempt to restrain your whimpering. However, your shaking knees started giving you away.

“Moan for us, pretty,” Seonghwa ordered, pecking kisses across your thighs. “We want to hear how sweet you sound.”

“Don’t be shy,” San said, palming himself through his pants. “Let it out.”

So you did. The sounds you tried stifling came out as Seonghwa’s tongue rapidly flicked at your clit. You’d been shaking by the time San came up behind you, and pressed your back to his chest. Without a word, he lifted one of your legs to rest it on the edge of the couch, and became a support to keep you upright. With more access to you, Seonghwa angled himself to have your sex completely on his mouth. San’s warm hands cupped both your breasts, and grazed your hard nipples with his thumbs. The light brushes added to the tightening sensation going on in your gut.

“I’ve never seen a shy succubus before,” San said, voice low and deep in your ear. “I thought you all liked being fucked from sun up to sun down. Unless…you’re not really a demon at all?”

“Wha-what?” Rufus exclaimed. “I told you she was, didn’t I?! I assure you, my lord-”

Rufus stopped when San reached to the “tail” you wore and tore it from you in a hard snap. The glue Rufus used ripped at your skin, the pain only distracting you from your pleasure for a brief moment. Seonghwa ceased when San tossed the fake tail onto the couch. Seeing the rubber extension beside him, he looked up to the horns braided into your scalp. It’d taken the stylist hours to fix them on your head, using loads of glue and tight lacing to keep them upright. Seonghwa stood up and tugged on one. You let out a cry, killing any arousal inside you as he lifted it enough to see your hair braided into the holes.

“How dare you,” San scowled from behind you, “Try and fool us, you pathetic little worm.”

“I-I-I…” Rufus struggled for a defense, and went for the only one he could think of, “She’s a human? I-I can’t believe it! The slaver I bought her from said she was a pureblood! I had no idea! I promise you, my lord, if I’d known that she was a human, I would never have dared bring her here!”

“How stupid do you think we are?” San asked, leaving you to face Rufus. “You really thought you could bring a human up here and try passing her off as a trueborn demon? Did you forget that the three of us are demons too?”

“I swear, my lord, I did not know! I am just as surprised as you are!”

A quick slash of silver and a spray of black blood went through the air. Rufus’s large hands clutched at his neck as blood started pouring from the open wound. He collapsed to the ground, gasping and gurgling pathetically as he clung to life. You didn’t know where demons went if they died, and you never asked. When Rufus finally laid dead on the floor, San held out his hand and Yunho produced a white handkerchief. San used it to wipe off the blade before handing both to Yunho.

“Get rid of this filth,” San commanded, “Have Mingi help you.”

“At once, Master.”

San turned around to you, and all the blood drained from your body. Alone with three incubi who were nearly swindled by your idiot slaver, you knew where they’d turn their anger next. You squeezed your eyes shut, expecting a harsh blow any second. The second a pair of hands touched your hips, you jolted and gave a small squeal of fear. Yet, instead of harsh bruises or angry words, you felt warm lips dotting kisses on your thighs. San unbuttoned and removed his jacket, his tanned torso glowing in the fire light, and his dark eyes gleaming with lust. Hongjoong did the same, untucking and unbuttoning his shirt.

“Pl-Plea-se,” you begged, eyes starting to sting, “I-I had nothing to do with it. I was only doing what I was told. I swear, I didn’t want to do it. He made me. I can only do what my owners tell me to do. I promise I’d never-”

“-Relax, pet,” Seonghwa soothed you with more kisses, doing so as he unclipped his corset and tossed it aside. “We’re not angry with you at all.”

“You’re not?”

“Why would we be?” Hongjoong asked, taking San’s place behind you. His warm naked chest slowly rekindled the arousal inside you. Hands sailing up your body to your tits, he grabbed them gently as he spoke in your ear. “We just got a new pet for free. I don’t see that as a reason to be angry, do you?”

“But…But, I’m useless. I’m not a succubus or any other kind of demon. I’m…”

“Fresh,” he said, kissing your neck, “Brand new. You’re like fresh clay, ready to be molded however we want. Why would I want a regular demon who already knows everything over a human that I can shape to my tastes instead?”

“Succubi are boring, in my opinion,” said San, unbuckling his pants as he watched the other two kiss and fondle you. “They all like the same things, cast the same spells, and bore me to tears with their seductive talk. I told my brothers I wanted something new; something I’ve never tried before. We’re incubi, so banging other succubi or incubi can get boring. It’s fine if we’re feeding, but for pleasure…I prefer something a little more interesting.”

“And you’re such a pretty thing too,” Seonghwa added, kissing up your stomach as he stood up. “So soft and warm,” he slashed one of your nipples with his tongue, “And you taste so good.”

“Your pussy tastes like honey,” said Hongjoong, who held your breasts for Seonghwa to suck on. “I fear I might grow addicted to it after tonight.”

“I haven’t gotten a taste yet,” San protested, who walked over to the three of you fully nude.

He turned you to face him, the other two falling to your sides instead, as he slipped his hand against your wet center. Two fingers teased around the edges of your clit, occasionally brushing up on it before pulling away. The repeated motions made you dizzy, and you knew you’d cum sooner or later. The three of them created this intense arousal inside you that burned like fire. They’d made a knot in your pussy, and only with their fingers and tongue could it be undone. San licked Your essence off his fingers, approving of your supposed sweet taste. Hongjoong and Seonghwa continued teasing your nipples; each man took one side to grab and lick while San touched your pussy.

“She is yummy,” he smirked, going back for a second taste with wet fingers. “But, I’d love to see what she can do with these pretty lips.”

He coated both his fingers in you again before lifting them to your mouth. Instinctively, you opened for him to slide them over your tongue. The three of them groaned when you sucked your juices off his fingers; the act alone made you throb.

“Let’s take our pet somewhere more comfortable,” Seonghwa suggested, reaching between your thighs to rub you. “It’s our first time. We should enjoy her properly.”

“I agree,” said Hongjoong, licking up your neck while his hand joined Seonghwa on your pussy. Each demon took turns rubbing circles around your sensitive clit while San slid his thumb into your mouth next, “Besides, it’s too dark in here. I want to see all of her while I fuck her senselessly.”

They spoke about you as if you weren’t standing there, and you liked it. You’d learned long ago that you’re meant for pleasure. It was so rare a demon gave it back to you that you’d do nothing to ruin your chances. With a click of their fingers, you found yourself standing in a dimly lit room. Not bothered by your surroundings at the moment, you let the three men take you over to a large canopy bed in a corner of the bedroom. It was wide enough to comfortably fit all four of you, with white and pale blue sheets matching the drapes tied to the bedposts. They sat you on the edge of the bed, circling you with their cocks in their hands. They were perfect. Longer and thicker than you’re used to, you knew they’d split you open in the best possible way. You swallowed the saliva building in your mouth seeing them up close now.

“Stick out your tongue for me.”

Hongjoong held himself by the shaft as he rubbed his tip on your tongue. The high moans he let out only fueled the flames. You licked up and down his length, tracing the veins pumping blood through it before taking him in your mouth. Humming around the sensitive head, you tasted the thin, salty precum already. Hongjoomg let out soft sighs as he watched you work him into your mouth inch by inch. Dark eyes full of lust, you suddenly became his entire world. While you gingerly sucked his cock, you started slowly stroking Seonghwa and San’s in time with it. You enjoyed the feeling of them pulsating in your hands; the muscles twitched whenever your thumb touched the underside, tracing the wrinkles just underneath the head. It reminded you of home for a moment: the big New Year’s office party where you fucked those three interns in the mailroom. They’d been so hot and you’d been so horny, the consequences at the time didn’t bother you. They never did, quite frankly. You were a big shot CEO. You had expensive tastes and an insatiable appetite. You still had that even in Hell where you’re nobody.

“Take it all the way,” Hongjoong groaned, holding your head to push further into your mouth. “I know you can. Sluts like you are experts at taking dicks in your throat. You can do it.”

You coughed and sputtered around him as he sunk towards your throat. His tip brushing against your uvula created a gagging sound that made all three men moan. Your pussy throbbed as you took him in your throat, loving how it blocked your airway entirely and nearly suffocated you. Hongjoong enjoyed this for a few strokes before pulling you off him, strings of spit connecting you both until he fully moved away. Seonghwa turned your head to face him, and laughed when you opened your mouth for him.

“She certainly understands her place already,” he said, holding your hair as he started fucking your mouth. “We don’t need to go through the trouble of breaking her.”

“She’s been broken for quite a while,” groaned San, who guided your hand to spread his precum over his thick cock. “I can tell. She gives into it so easily.”

“She knows what she’s made for,” Hongjoong grinned, keeping your hand still as he pushed into it instead. “Don’t you, slut?” They laughed when you nodded in agreement. “You see, you don’t have to be a demon to be well bred.”

“She’ll certainly be bred after tonight.”

“If only,” San mused somewhat sadly.

So rarely did you get to enjoy good looking demons. The ones who came to the “House of Kisses” were foul-smelling, long-clawed, black-eyed creatures who squealed and grunted through it. They acted more like animals humping their favorite stuffed toy. You hardly ever enjoyed a lover who took their time with you, who tasted delightful and gave you pleasure in return. It was something you'd do anything to keep.

When Seonghwa pulled out, San turned your head to keep your mouth full. You’d initially sucked him firmly, moaning around his cock while sinking down to the base every time. Drool dropped onto your chest as you did so, not daring to break away unless he said so. But then, San held you by the hair as his brothers had done and made his own pace.

“Suck a little softer, pet. I like it more-Oh, yes,” he sighed dreamily, melting in your mouth as you followed his instructions exactly. “Someone really is trying to avoid going back down there, hm?” he joked, head tilting back once you started slowly deep-throating him. “Don't worry, pet,” he soothed you with gentle head pats, “You're not going anywhere.”

This went on for a while: they all took various turns in your mouth, and you sucked according to how they enjoyed it. Hongjoong went rougher, shoving himself in your mouth and guiding you by the neck. Seonghwa kept it steady and breathily gave orders as if you’d never given a blowjob before. San, as you expected, liked it light and soft. You’d learned how to play to a client’s appetites in order to avoid upsetting your owners. If a customer complained enough or you’d disobeyed them somehow, you’d end up back in the winds of lust. You didn’t want to be flung around the air in dizzying circles; the harsh, cold winds freezing your skin while bits of debris or other prisoners crashed into you. It had been madness. They tortured you by making you feel relentless sensations of all kinds. You'd taken part so much in life, your death only made sense.

You shouldn't have snorted all that blow.

“On the bed,” Hongjoong ordered, “It’s our turn now.”

You slid further up the bed until your lower half hung off the edge. San and Seonghwa each propped a leg onto their shoulder, and kept you fully exposed to the three of them. The hunger in their eyes created a whole new arousal for you; your breath hitched when Hongjoong laid a flat, wide lick up your wet lips, ending with a hard suck to your clit. Your needy whine pleased them, and brought on more attention. San laid soft kisses and gentle nips of his teeth down your inner thighs. Your pussy throbbed in Hongjoon’s expert mouth, which caused him to chuckle against it. Seonghwa did the same, licking from knee to the apex of your thighs where he flicked your pussy tenderly.

The pleasure boiled inside you when two fingers slipped between your folds. San rolled his thumb around your clit while Hongjoong and Seonghwa joined together to finger you. Their groans joined yours as you lost yourself in the feeling building in every stroke.

“She has such a pretty pussy,” Seonghwa moaned, pushing his finger into the last knuckle. He and Hongjoong fingered you at different speeds, so neither one left your pussy empty and wanting. “It’s so wet and squeezing my finger nicely. I can’t imagine what it’ll feel when I’m fucking her.”

“I’ll have to be careful,” Hongjoong said, “Otherwise I’m afraid I’ll finish too quickly. It’s been way too long since I had anything good in my bed.”

“I want to feel it too,” pouted San, who took a few licks to your clit before sucking up the juices flooding it. When one of them removed his finger, San replaced it immediately. He hummed his delight at the walls squeezing both his and his brother’s fingers. “How can human pussy be better than demon pussy?” he giggled, “I don’t get it.”

“Have no idea,” Hongjoong shrugged, content watching his brothers finger you together. “I don’t really care either. We have a dumb little toy that we can build however we like.” His brothers broke away as he began kissing from the middle up to your breasts. Cupping them, he gave hard squeezes that made you wriggle in his grasp. “I can make her into whatever I want her to be.” He kissed up your neck to your ear, biting it tenderly. “You’re going to be the obedient, compliant submissive I’ve always wanted.” You moaned when his cock slid up between your folds, rubbing directly on your clit. He giggled at your hips bucking against him, and held them down. You tried moving into him, but his firm grip kept you against the bed. “The pretty bitch that fucks like she’s in constant heat,” he traced your jaw with his fingers, letting his dick settle right over your pussy but not moving. “The perfect slave. My slave.”

“How crass,” scoffed Seonghwa, who shoved his brother off you and took his place. Unlike Hongjoong, Seonghwa gradually grinded into you. Pushing stray hairs from your face, he said, “I prefer a pretty toy over a slave,” he said, cupping your jaw and kissing you deeply. The mixture of your fluids filled your mouth when his tongue rolled around yours. His full lips worked yours open slowly, his tongue sliding over yours before beginning to roll around. “When I’m done with you, you’ll be a lovely doll that sings and plays music and reads to me. You’ll be the picture of innocence in front of others,” he pecked your lips as he kept grinding, “A virginal angel who is deflowered by me every night.”

When he lifted you further up on the bed, as expected, San slid right between you and Seonghwa. “That’s dumb,” he said, feeling up your body to your chest. Sucking on one nipple, he allowed you to grind into him. “Everyone knows what you are,” he changed sides, and rolled his tongue around it. “I can’t marry you, but I can certainly enjoy the benefits of pretending.” He sealed his lips over yours, and you easily opened your mouth to let him explore. “A lovely wife who cooks and cleans for me…Who does whatever she can to please me…make sure I’m content and comfortable. Isn’t that what every man wants? Why can’t I want it?”

“Because you have servants who do all that already,” snorted Seonghwa from beside you.

You turned over to see him and Hongjoong locked in a passionate embrace. Seonghwa watched both you and San through heavy lidded eyes. Hongjoong turned his head from you to kiss him passionately, both of them moaning in each other’s mouths. Something about the sight aroused you more. You gazed down to where they met to see their hands wrapped around one another. Clear droplets fell from the slits to their shafts, where each brother used it to slicken their movements. You kept watching them kiss and touch before something thick pushed inside you slowly.

“Oh fuck…” San breathed, eyes falling shut and head going forward as he carefully filled you.

Being stretched around him distracted you from anything else in the room. You grabbed San’s biceps, nails digging into the hard muscles as the pressure intensified. Once he became fully sheathed inside you, you swore you felt his tip bulge your belly slightly. It was a feeling you could never get enough of. Even with other customers, if they could reach that far into you, you became absolutely weak. Holding you close, he kissed you as he gently fucked into you.

“Perfect,” he moaned against your lips, “Perfect. My little wife is taking my dick so well, and loving it so much. Here,” he took your hand to place on your belly, “Feel that? That’s me, pet. That’s me fucking you so deep you feel it here.” He kept your hand there as he took several long strokes. He grinned when he saw your eyes rolling back. “You’re loving this, huh?” he started going a bit faster, moaning as you tightened around him, “Loving my fat cock ripping you open, hm?”

“Ye-y-yes,” you whimpered, clutching his shoulders and trying to keep still for him.

“It must be the best thing about being a demon slave,” he groaned, “Getting to have demon dick every moment of the day. Let’s see exactly how well you can take this one.”

Kneeling up, he pinned you by the waist, pulling your legs over his thighs as he quickened his pace. Balls slapping against your ass joined your combined moans. He made stars form in front of your eyes; every stroke pushed against your g-spot over and over again, turning you into a moaning mess on the bed. At some point, San began pulling you onto him and he laughed when you began doing it for him.

“You really love it,” he teased, “Look at her.”

“She’s beautiful like this,” said Seonghwa, lazily starting to rub your clit. You noticed his open mouth letting out soft panting, and spotted Hongjoong’s head between his thighs. The red head teasingly swatted his tongue over the slit and underside of the tip, giving it a suck every few licks. “I have a suspicion our pet is a lot naughtier than we first thought. She must have been.”

“Only the filthiest humans are made sex slaves,” San noted, propping himself on his fists and curling you upwards in the process. “You must’ve…must’ve been a whore…a filthy, naughty, slutty whore…”

The degradation. The lack of acknowledgement as they fucked you added to your need for release. You’d always loved being used by your lovers; you loved giving yourself over and letting them do what they wanted. Having these three demons using you and each other was a dream come true. San’s thrusts knocked the headboard into the wall, his groans turning into feral grunts and his strokes becoming feverish. His orgasm came hard, and the hot sensation of his cum painting your walls made you join him. Your body became sensitive to Seonghwa’s hand teasing your clit even as you came; each brush and swirl had you bucking against the sensitivity. When you usually come down from the high quickly, your body starts wearing down, yet that didn’t happen this time. Not with real incubi, and not an average demon. Your orgasm ending, you only wanted more of them.

“My turn,” said Seonghwa.

Hongjoong left his thighs to join San’s side of the bed, the pair sharing soft kisses. He rested himself against the broad man, legs spread for you to see him completely. His cock fully erect, throbbing against his stomach, Hongjoong whimpered when San began stroking him. Both of them looked at you and Seonghwa now, an audience for what you were about to do.

“Get on top, pretty,” Seonghwa said, bringing you on top of him. He didn’t hesitate to impale you on his dick, having the same burning effect as San. “Oh yes,” he panted, head tilting into the soft pillow. “San wasn’t lying.”

You didn’t care when they laughed at you pathetically bouncing on him. Hands on his chest, you raised and lowered your ass onto him in an inconsistent flow. He felt just as good as San, his cock reaching up to your core far too easily. You whined when a hand sharply swatted your ass. You didn’t care whose hand it was; you only cared that the sting added to your pleasure. When he heard you squeal particularly loud, Seonghwa smacked your ass again.

“Desperate cock-whore,” Seonghwa moaned, bringing you forward to keep spanking you. “We’re going to fuck you dumb,” he growled in your ear, “You won’t even remember your own name when we’re done with you.”

The idea of that alone had you rutting against him pathetically. Seonghwa eventually let you kneel back up, and slightly away from him. Hands holding you up behind your back, this position gave all three demons a view of him inside you. Their eyes locked right on where you and Seonghwa met, and when he began pushing up into you, the other two jeered.

“Ride him, slut. Ride him the right way.”

“Don’t be shy. Take him all the way.”

“You’re really a cock-loving whore, aren’t you?” Hongjoong asked in a breath, being teased by San in gradual strokes. “Answer me, slut. Are you a cock-loving whore?”

“Ye-Ye-Yess,” you cried, feeling a second orgasm building in your lower belly.

“Say it. Say ‘Yes, Master. I’m a cock-loving whore’.”

“Yes, Ma-M-Master,” you sobbed, “I’m a cock-cock-lov-loving whore!”

“Keep saying it,” Seonghwa said, pushing his hips upwards, “Say it.”

You did as told, saying the humiliating words as Seonghwa brought you to your second orgasm. It hit you much harder, stiffening your muscles and arching your spine backwards. His deep strokes emphasized each pathetic cry; your tits and ass bounced from the force of his thrusts which delighted the three demons. Having them sitting there, laughing and calling you names sunk you deeper into your arousal. You came even harder when you felt Seonghwa’s hot cum filling you soon enough. Seonghwa’s jaw clenched and he kept his pace steady as he pumped his seed deep inside you. You wanted more. You needed more. Whatever devious pheromone the incubi released sunk into your nostrils and filled your lungs. It smelled like hard candy, roses and cinnamon, turning from scents into a cocktail drug that fueled your body. You swore you ran on their energy and various scents alone.

“Take it all,” he grunted, grabbing your wrists and holding them in front of you, “Take all my cum.”

You would have stopped for a small break at the brothel. By a second orgasm, your body usually gives up. Yet, the brothers did not let you have a break. The power of an incubus must be stronger than you first assumed. Hongjoong grabbed you by the waist, and bent you over in front of him. Pushing your head down into the bed, he wasted no time in forcing himself inside you. Fingers scratching the smooth covers, face buried in their softness, you nearly screamed at the newest cock. Hongjoong did not reach as far as San, but he made sure you felt every hit each time. The only time he slowed down was when San came up behind him. Buried deep in you, you heard Hongjoong let out a long moan that ended in soft panting. Soon, you realized Hongjoong was sandwiched between your pussy and San’s cock. You matched San’s speed so Hongjoong felt pleasure from both ends. The strong pheromones drove you nearly wild now. You wanted him to cum in you too. Even if they couldn’t breed you, you wished they could.

Seonghwa moved around the bed to the front of you, lifted your head and filled your mouth. You greedily sucked up the leftover cum from his dick. His soft rose scent drew you closer to him. You loved the mix of salty and sweetness on your tongue, the remnants flowing from his tip to your throat as you swallowed. Hongjoong twitched inside you, almost creating a vibrating feeling that you’d heard incubi and succubi could do. It had you crying around Seonghwa’s dick; tears streamed from the corners of your eyes as he choked you on it. The combination of fingers rapidly rubbing your pussy, a demon cock shuddering inside you like a vibrator, and knowing San was pounding his demon brother had you trembling in their grasp. When Seonghwa gave you a moment to breathe, drool and cum fell from your lips onto the bed and your eyes remained shut in each euphoric feeling. You focused on nothing but them.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, yes,” Hongjoong whined, “Fuck me like that. Both of you. Fuck me just like that.”

He hunched over on top of you as he came hard. You and San did as he wished, milking his orgasm from him so he spilled inside you. You soon joined him with a body-shattering third orgasm. Your arms shook, becoming numb and weak from the weakness it brought on. All three of them having had their turn, you assumed it’d be over.

You assumed wrong.

San withdrew from Hongjoong and the latter nearly threw you on top of him. Weakly, you slipped him into your dripping hole and rode him. Hongjoong stood over San’s head, and pushed his cock in your mouth. He hadn’t even gotten soft. You heard from other slaves that incubi could go for hours if they wished. In all realness, that should concern you. Even if you’re technically dead, you could never handle such a lengthy session. Yet, surrounded by these horny incubi, you felt compelled to serve them as they wished. Your jaw burned, and your cheeks felt stiff from the abuse. You knew your throat will be hoarse and painful after tonight. This did not seem to concern any of the demons.

“Stay still for a moment,” Seonghwa said from behind you. “This will only hurt for a little bit.”

San arched your back and spread your ass cheeks apart. A cold, slippery substance fell between them to your hole, which clenched and unclenched to the thick head spreading the lube around.

“Oh-ho,” Hongjoong laughed, “She’s going to love that.”

“What’s the point in three holes if we don’t fill each one?” he asked, pushing the tip inside you.

Your high-pitched moan remained muffled by Hongjoong, though the reaction pleased all three of them. You felt entirely full. Plugged up by each of them, having them move in near unison to keep you still in their grasp, you surrendered over to them completely. Your masters would take you however they wished, and you would not complain. Their cocks felt far too good to refuse. The best ones you’ve ever had in your previous life and in this new hellish one, you drowned yourself in it. Seonghwa grabbed both your tits to keep you in place; San rubbed your clit with his thumb while holding you by your hip; Hongjoong held you by the hair as he pumped in and out of your mouth. You stayed frozen in place as your new owners used you for their pleasure, giving you a bit of it in return.

They all laughed and jeered when you came again. Seonghwa tweaked your nipples when he heard you crying on Hongjoong’s dick; Hongjoong kept himself fully planted in your throat so your moans vibrated around his head. This orgasm made your toes curl, your nails from crescent shapes in your palms, and your muscles shake and burn from constant movement. They didn’t stop. Not for a single second. You became putty by the time they laid you back down. Seonghwa pushed himself inside your ass once more, legs on his chest as he ruthlessly pounded you. San brought your head to the edge of the bed, instantly filling your mouth while Hongjoong lapped and fingered your gushing pussy. You didn’t have much time to enjoy it before San began shuddering, and his cum filled your throat. You struggled to swallow at first, though caught onto it easily until you sucked every thick drop from him.

By the time you laid on your side between Hongjoong and Seonghwa, you lost all sense of time and place. You felt nothing but the constant flow of bliss coursing through your veins.

“What’s your name, pretty?” Seonghwa asked, the taunt in his tone.

You gave an incoherent mumble, eyes shut and body made of jelly by now.

“What was that?” Hongjoong joined in, “We can’t hear you.”

You mumbled again, head lolling as you felt San hover over you. “Come on now,” he said, teasing your clit in slow circles, “You must have a name.”

“If you don’t tell us, we’ll give you one instead,” Seonghwa panted, moving away enough to let San’s hand tease you. “Use your words, kitten.”

“”My Pet’ is a nice name in my opinion,” Hongjoong said, gripping your hip as he bottomed up into you.

“Darling is prettiest,” San said, “Much more endearing.”

“Kitten,” Seonghwa proclaimed, “Kitten is much sweeter. It suits her.”

There they named you. You are their property now, and you had no say. Eventually, the three of them finished and collapsed onto the bed together with you in the middle. The softness of the bed became particularly noticeable once you melted into it. The scent of sweat and sex filled your nose, and a distinct chill fell over your naked body. Your eyes falling shut, you relished in the gentle hands and lips on various parts of you. Their comforting touches lulled you to sleep, you barely listening to their sweet whispers. Whether they spoke to one another or to you, you weren't sure.

You only enjoyed the sweet peace sleep gave you.

***

A/N: just a short horny fic for all of you! I might make it a series, I might not. I have a habit of making these things lol please like and reblog <3

#ateez #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #choi san #hongjoong ateez #seonghwa ateez #san ateez #demon line ateez #demon line x reader #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #san x reader #hongjoong x seonghwa x san #ateez smut

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ozzgin · 3 days

Note

Hi!! Your writing it truly lovely 😭<33 If i could request anything with Zzy? Thank youuu

Yandere! Demon x Gloomy! Reader (II)

Featuring the goat-legged boy Zzy and a gloomy, newly employed detective Reader! By the way, his name is a little tribute to a series I like. Can you guess who inspired it? Hint: it's Jhonen Vasquez's first comic :D

Content: female reader, perverted goat demon yandere, dark/crass humor!, monster romance, mildly NSFW

[Part 1] [Monster masterlist]

The detective man, at the very least, kept his word. The pay is good, and you barely have any work to do. The jobs themselves are similarly not too challenging: so far you haven’t had to deal with any murder mystery out of an Agatha Christie novel. Rather, most of the time, it’s someone asking you to investigate their cheating partner, or sending you to do a background check for an employee. Every now and then you’ll get the odd client, but that’s something for another day.

Your boss isn’t all that bad either. You were initially quite hesitant to be alone in the room with him. He always seems to be surrounded by an eerie, dark aura, and you’ve only seen him smile in a menacing, villainous way. Now you’ve gotten used to his strangeness. In fact, it’s almost comforting. There’s something refreshing about another human being honest about their misery. He seems to be just as uninterested in this job as you are, spending most of his time reading at his desk. Despite his unkempt, scary appearance, he's pleasant enough and looks after you. Which, now that you think about it, is a little suspicious. You've seen him act around other people: curt and to the point, disinterested, even potentially rude. With demons, he's ruthless.

"Have you had lunch yet?" the man asks, standing up and dusting his knees. "I can get us something."

You nod and flash him a flaccid smile, although you can't help but ask:

"Listen, aren't you being a little too nice? I mean, I'm not complaining...but I've seen how you behave in general, and I have a hard time coming up with a reason for my special treatment."

He ponders your question for a moment, before his sunken eyes look ahead, somewhere behind you.

"Well…If I’m being honest, you’re kind of pathetic, aren't you? I’m just a little worried that if I’m too harsh, I’ll find out you hanged yourself in your apartment or something. Not that I’d care, but if you’re gone, I’m the one stuck with…that thing.”

Ah. That’s what it was. Almost immediately, a shiver runs across your spine.

“(Y/N)! Are you done yet? I’m booooooored”, a prolonged whine erupts from the neighboring chamber.

“I’m about to have lunch, actually. Do you want any-”

“You know I do! Spread those legs and I can start”, the goat demon declares with a grin, clacking his hooves in your direction.

You sigh.

Of course. Months ago, you were tricked into signing a lifelong contract with Zzy. It was the detective’s way of washing his hands off the matter and warmly welcoming you into the agency. It makes sense that he'd treat you with utmost care, otherwise he'd have to deal with this pest from Hell once again.

How's your life with Zzy going?

You've since found a way to seal your bedroom, in order to avoid waking up with his groping hands under your sheets. Sadly, the stubborn creature keeps finding ways to bypass your safety measurements. Who would’ve thought that lust is such a powerful driving force?

On top of the nightly shenanigans, you obviously have to deal with him during the day, at the agency. “Listen, it’s like…one of those fidget toys. It helps with stress”, he explains fervently while pointing at your chest. “You want me to do my work properly, don’t you?” He concludes theatrically. “You’re not holding my boobs. This is the end of the conversation.”

If you’re having a bad day, it won’t go unnoticed. “Boy, what a smell, what a delicacy. You’re even more miserable than usual”, Zzy will exclaim, throwing his hands together in a graceful prayer. “You know what the best medicine is? A quick fuck. Let me pound that sadness out of you, eh?”

Despite his constant clowning, the demon does have moments of clarity. He becomes particularly serious when jealous. “What have you done?” You shout in despair, gawking at the client - now morphed into a pig - foaming at the mouth and running around the room. “He was staring at your ass. Only I can do that.” The horned man stands proud, arms crossed, nodding at his own courageous act. His most treasured belonging has been defended once more.

As expected, the jealous curse has gotten both of you into time-out. Zzy because he cursed the client in the first place, and you - despite your protests - because you didn't stop him in time. "Can't you wear something easier to take off? It takes two business days to unbutton this crap", the demon complains as he fiddles with your shirt. You're laying on the sofa, hands behind your head, gazing at the clock on the wall and counting the minutes passing. Unbothered, compliant. The peacefulness of someone who's given up. "Zipper is to the left", you add, aiding the process.

Another irritating detail is that the damned beast can detect the slightest arousal coming from you, and will make sure to announce it loudly, regardless of who is around. "Someone's horny! Whew, getting me all worked up, too." You slap a hand over his mouth, a deep red blush rapidly spreading across your cheeks. You turn to the detective and apologize profusely, but he remains unconcerned, flipping another page. "Let me take care of her first, Mr. Detective", Zzy manages to mumble through your pressed fingers. "As long as you get the task done", your boss responds plainly, never bothering to look up from his book.

"You should visit me down there sometimes", the horned creature suddenly mentions, his head resting in your lap as you idly browse your phone. You stop to glance down at him. "In Hell, you mean?" He snickers at the thought. "No one believes me when I tell them I have a human girlfriend. I need concrete proof, ya feel me?" You raise an eyebrow. "Girlfriend?" He disregards your inquiry and continues: "At least give me a pair of your panties to take back home." Absolutely not.

"Were you this much of a menace before I showed up?"

"What's that supposed to mean?! You can't blame a demon for being in love."

You sigh once more and roll over.

"Does that mean we can go for round two~?" Zzy is grinning at his own suggestion.

"Just go to sleep. Or something."

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norrisleclercf1 · 1 day

Text

He's Not Yours

Pairing: Mafia!Jenson x Assistant!Reader

Rating: PG-17

Words: 3.2K

Warnings: Pregnancy, lying, angst, fluff, it's really just, yeah

Synopsis: One night changes your life, but one lie completely destroys it

Mafia Jenson: pt.1 Unattainable / pt.2 Slipping Through My Fingers

A/N: This was an idea @percervall and I talked about a long time ago and I’m finally writing it and yes this is part of the main story

With shaking hands, you try to read the test before you; you are unwilling to believe what the test says. The two little lines mock you, making you sick. Taking another deep breath, you grab your phone and dial the first person you can think of.

"I need you,"

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

Lewis holds it as you sit on the couch, sobbing, trying to get control. You craved control, but instead, you've thrown your world into such uncontrollable chaos that your chest has tightened. Lewis takes an intense breath, blows out, puts the test down on the coffee table, and slowly bends to your height.

"Jenson?" He asks the question slowly like he knew asking you would set off a whole wave of tears. You flinch at his name, the flashes of drinks, laughter, his hands on your body, pulling delicious toe-curling orgasms out of you. And the way he felt inside you. Shaking your head, you nod it slowly, and Lewis groans. He wants to yell at you for finally getting with Jenson and being so reckless.

"Well, I know this isn't how you wanted to get with him, but Y/n." "He can never know," Lewis snaps his mouth shut, his eyes narrowing but softening when you look up at him. "Lewis, he can never know. Lewis, promise me, promise me you won't tell him." Lewis groans and hangs his head. Sighing, he pulls you into his arms as you cry into his chest. "I won't, I won't tell him."

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

You finally calmed down enough to talk with Lewis about being pregnant. Pregnant, you couldn't believe it. Pregnant with Jenson's baby, it made a smile tug at your lips, but you had to shake your head as it would be extremely dangerous having his child. You loved Jenson, and he loved you, yet you two kept up this game of not being together. Jenson was the head of a Mafia group, and if his enemies learned he had a child, he'd have a weakness, a weakness that would end with either the child's death or his, and you knew you wouldn't survive either.

"I know you don't want to tell him, but you can't hide it," Lewis whispers, pouring you some juice, even though you'd really wish it was alcohol. "I'm not going to hide it, Lewis. Just tell him it's someone else's, baby," Lewis makes a disgruntled noise and sits down, shaking his head. "Y/n, I love you, but that would crush him. He loves you, and you two finally sleep together, and he has been chewing Fernando and I's ear off about how you two are finally coming together." The knife in your heart stabs deeper, tearing into the muscle with such force you choke on air.

"If people find out that this is his child, they'll target the child, and Jenson would," You take a deep breath as the tears gather in your eyes. "Jenson would rather die than let his child be harmed. I can't lose them both," You whimper, hanging your head in shame. "You're going to lose him if you tell him that you're carrying another man's baby." Lewis loves you, he'd kill for you, has killed for you, he'd die for you, but he wouldn't support you in this. Jenson has been his friend for years, and this would crush his dearest friend.

"You think I don't know that!" Your voice raises at the end, and you swallow back the bile burning your throat. "Lewis, just trust that I'm doing the right thing," Lewis has never seen you so broken. You were always this badass, tough woman who could cut a man down with one look. Hell, you've got Jenson Button down on his knees for you. "I don't think you're doing the right thing, but I'll be here for you, no matter what." Lewis moves, sitting down next to you and kissing your head.

"We have the gala tonight," you whisper, and Lewis groans, knowing Jenson will be all over you. You know, last gala, I snuck off with Sebastian, and we were gone for a while," you whisper, and Lewis goes tense next to you. "Don't, Jenson and Sebastian are close," You chuckle, sipping at the sweet drink in your hand. "Sebastian and I were engaged once." His jaw drops as you nod, having never revealed that fact. "I'm sorry, what? You were once engaged to Michael Schumacher's right-hand man, now the German Mafia's leader?" Lewis pulls back, and a wet chuckle gets past your lips.

"We were children, young, we met at university, and well, it was a whirlwind romance. We got so close to being married, but we both realized we didn't want this, so we stopped. Stayed good friends too," Lewis thinks over every interaction you've had with them, and you giggle, seeing the lightbulb go off. "Oh my god, that's how you got us to meet with them," you nod and start to laugh, feeling slightly lighter.

"Jesus," Lewis sinks into the couch as you nod. Where did you...could it be?" You stop him and shake your head no. "No, Sebastian... no, we didn't sleep together," you admit, and Lewis nods his head, not wanting to doubt you, but right now, he needs a little doubt. "Would Sebastian even agree to this?" Sipping on the juice is the only thing that does not make you nauseous. "Yes, he owes me." Lewis raises an eyebrow, and you lean back into his arms, his fingers digging into your neck muscles.

"Why does he owe you?" Lewis stops and shakes his head fast. "Actually, don't tell me, knowing you, it's probably something horrible." Your lip quirks up as you sigh and look at Lewis. "He's in love with Mark," "Oh yeah, he's in love with Mark," Lewis repeats, his eyes slowly growing wide as he lets the words sink in. "What, but Mark is," "Yep," You whisper sadly, remembering the night Sebastian sobbed in your arms about Mark and how he would never love him.

"Does Mark," "He suspects something, but that's why tonight I'll be stuck by his side. He'll get drunk and do something reckless," You whisper, Lewis nods and looks at the time. "We should get going," You nod, standing as you look down at the pregnancy test. "Oh god, I'm pregnant." Lewis laughs and pulls you into his chest, rubbing your arm, "Yeah, yeah, you are,"

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

"Something is off," Lewis tenses next to Jenson as he stares at you and Sebastian. Lewis tries hard not to make eye contact, worried he'll spill everything to Jenson. "What, no, nothing is off," Lewis answers far too fast, but Jenson doesn't clock it, staring a hole into your head. "How do Sebastian and Y/n know each other?" Lewis swears his muscles will rip from how tight they are, and Mark questions the closeness between you and Sebastian.

Lewis wishes you could hear his thoughts as Sebastian puts an arm around your waist, and you lean into him. Lewis closes his eyes and sees Sebastian moving his hand lower and you inching closer. "Okay, I'm going to rip his hand off," Jenson slams his whiskey down, but Mark steps in. "Touch him, and I'll rip you apart." Jenson and Mark have a stare-down, Lewis panicking. "Stop it. They used to be engaged, so I'm sure there are still feelings there," Lewis blurts out, and he groans, knowing he just fucked up.

"What?" Jenson's sound makes Lewis's blood run cold as Fernando walks up and giggles. "Eh, love birds are leaving," Lewis wishes Fernando could read a room. Actually, he could. He was just feeding into it." Jenson's eyes turn pitch black as Sebastian grins and leads you out of the gala.

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

"Congratulations," Sebastian whispers, and you smile, lying your head on his shoulder. "If anyone asks, can," "Of course, but you know I won't be in the baby's life; I'm going to be the cool uncle." You giggle, and he sighs, pulling you closer. "So, Jenson, you are having a baby." "No," Your voice is cold as you touch your stomach. "I'm having a baby, not Jenson. He was just a...a sperm donor." You spit and sigh as Sebastian stares at you with wide eyes. "Woah, alright, never mind. Noted, don't talk about Jenson." Sebastian whispers, and you groan, burying your face in your hands.

"Sorry, it's the fucking hormones, if the time is right, I'm 3 months pregnant." Sebastian hums and takes off his jacket, placing it on your shoulders. "It's okay, but I'm serious; you can say I'm the father, but I can't be involved; he's around too much." You understood why Sebastian stayed away. It was too painful for him to constantly see Mark and not be with him. "I understand." And you did. It was unbearable for you to be around Jenson, even more so now that you are pregnant.

"I could always move to Germany," You offer, and Sebastian chuckles and shakes his head no. "He'd follow you, and then rip me to shreds, and then just drag you back here." You nod your head, knowing that was all very true. "I'm glad I can call you my friend," Sebastian smirks and waves a hand over him. "Well, duh, I'm the better blonde." Giggling, you two stand up and walk back to the party; you shiver, feeling someone watching you.

Turning, you see a distraught Lewis, a confused Mark, a smug Fernando, and a furious Jenson. Sebastian notices and moves, placing a delicate kiss on your lips and shocking you. You can see Fernando and Lewis holding Jenson back. "I hope you're making the right decision." You smile, and Sebastian gives you one last kiss, leaving you in the shadows.

Walking over, you grab a drink, but Lewis quickly swaps them, and you nod. "What the fuck was that about?" Jenson growls, Mark even looking pissed, which has you thinking things over. "I was telling him some news," "Which is what? What could possibly have been your ex-fiance kissing you?" You whip your head to Lewis, who quickly looks away and whistles. "Nothing," Jenson tightens his hold on his glass and waves over the bartender. "Get her a real drink, please," "No, thank you," The guys stare at you, shocked; you always drink with them. "I can't drink," You whisper, unable to look them in the eyes.

The bartender's eyes sweep over you and smile. "Congrats." He walks off. Jenson stares, but then a smile starts to grow. "Are you?" "Yes! And it's Sebastian's okay, but he wants... just leave it alone." You whisper. A pen could drop with how silent it was around you. Lewis, I want to go home now," Lewis nods and gathers you in his arms, noticing how you are still wearing Sebastian's jacket.

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

2 months later, 5 months pregnant

You stopped wearing your heels, and you hated it. Mark and Jenson kept towering over you, and you were annoyed with it. Since that night at the gala, Jenson hasn't said much to you, just small words here and there, but today, he asked you to come into the office early, so here you are, trying to figure out what he would want to say to you.

Knocking on the office door, you push it open and see Jenson sitting in the same position you left him last night. "Did you stay the night?" You ask, shocked at his disheveled state. "Are you pregnant with my baby?" The question throws you off, shock flashing through your features, but you quickly school your emotions and take a deep breath. "No, Jenson, it's not your baby." His face, once stoic, breaks as he takes a deep breath and looks away.

"There's...not even a chance?" He whispers, and you hate being pregnant at this moment because he's got your throat tightening without even touching you, eyes burning like fire has been thrown in them. "No," You choke on the word; clearing your throat, you roll your shoulders back and speak up. "No, there's not a chance." You repeat, and Jenson leans back, rubs his face, and nods. "Sebastian, he....he's going to be there for you, yes?" It wasn't really a question; it was more of a demand. "No, he wants nothing to do with the bug, baby." Jenson's face is cold, but then he cracks a smile.

"Bug?" You sigh. It was something you started calling the baby, and it just stuck. Lewis even bought the baby a little bug plushie. "Yes, it's something I called the baby," "That's cute," Jenson stands and walks over before settling on his couch and patting the empty side. You move and sit down, feeling your feet ache as you whine. "I'm not the father, but I want to help Y/n," You open your eyes and stare at him. The raw emotion on his face eats you alive, Jenson has always spoken about how much he's always wanted to be a father, and here he is, the father of your baby, and you're hiding that from him. Taking away the one thing he's truly wanted.

"Jenson, you don't have to," Jenson moves, his large hands wrapping around your ankles and lifting them to his lap, and slowly rub the soles of your feet. "Jenson, please, I'm doing this alone," You whisper and pull your feet in, knees tucked into your chest. Jenson stares at you, the rejection hurting, but he clears his throat. "So, I'm just your boss, and you're my assistant, and us fucking, us telling each other we loved one another, that never happened? Instead, you fucked, Sebastian, and now you're pregnant with his baby, not mine." Jenson snaps, standing up, and you flinch, his anger leaving just as quickly as it came.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm just," You don't know what comes over you, but you start to cry and hold your arms out to him, just wanting to feel his warmth and smell the whiskey and earth that clings to him. Jenson doesn't think twice and sits down, pulling you into his lap. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," You repeat, sobbing into his chest. "It's okay, I'm here, I'm always here,"

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

3 months later, 8 months pregnant

You don't know how it happened, but one day, you were living in your lovely apartment, and suddenly, you were living in Jenson's home, painting the nursery together. Now, you're lying in bed, wondering if you should talk to Jenson.

He wasn't his usual self; as your stomach grew, the more he refused to let you out of his sight, and you could tell he was slowly losing his mind. According to Lewis, he saw Sebastian not too long ago, and they both left the room with busted lips and black eyes. Jenson came stalking into the house, stormed past you, and locked himself up in his study hours ago. Unable to sleep, you throw the covers off and groan.

Your stomach was heavier and heavier by the day as your little bug was dropping, getting ready for you to give birth. Holding your stomach, you waddle to his study and knock on the door softly. "Jense, it's me." You push it open with ease and stop seeing him sitting at the desk, his head down and a bottle of whiskey half empty. "Jenson," You whisper, close the door, and walk farther into the study. "Jenson, love," You whisper, hating how you living here has made you two grow closer, scary close for you.

He looks up, and you hiss, seeing his eye and lip swollen. "That should be my baby; I wish it was my baby; I wish you were mine." He croaks, and you freeze, your hold on your stomach tightening. "Jense," "I would take such good care of you because I-.. because I love you." He whimpers, sounding so broken that you blink, and tears slide down your cheeks. Your chest aches; you knew he'd remember nothing in the morning. He was far too drunk to even correctly see if it was you in front of him and not some dream.

"Jenson, he is yours," you whisper, stepping forward and cupping his face, wiping the tears as his hands touch your stomach, staring at it. "Don't hurt me like that, baby. It's okay; I don't need to lie to protect my heart. Don't care. I will care for them no matter what. I will care for both of you," He slurs with a sad smile. That ache in your chest grows as you pull him up; he stumbles but stands upright and blinks slowly. "Let's go to bed, Jense." Jenson nods and follows after you. He stumbles occasionally, but you carefully lead him into the room, and he flops onto his bed.

"Go to sleep," You lean down and kiss his cheek, but he stops you, and you freeze, having never seen such vulnerability in someone before. "Stay, I'm, just stay," He begs, and you nod, not even thinking twice as you climb into the bed and sigh. Jenson's hand moves to your stomach, lying on it protectively. You flinch, feeling a little kick, and Jenson giggles. "Hey, little bug, I'm Jenson. I'm not your father, but I'll love you like one." You bite your bottom lip hard, trying not to sob as Jenson slips off into sleep, leaving you to sob quietly into the pillow.

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

1 month later, Hospital

Jenson couldn't believe it; this tiny little human, the tiny bug, was finally here, in his arms. You slept soundly as Jenson refused to leave your side, and Lewis was picking out the perfect outfit to take him home in. "Should we do the bugs?" Jenson makes a face, and Lewis sighs as Jenson can't look away. The tiny bundle was tucked tight in his arms, staring up at Jenson. Jenson hated that the baby had Sebastian's eyes, these perfect little blues, with a little button nose and perfect lips.

"Here, dress him in this," Lewis says, holding out a pretty blue onesie, but Jenson shakes his head. He and the baby were doing skin-to-skin, and it felt like the perfect thing to do like the universe was frozen and nothing was wrong in the world. Jenson, you have to dress him." Lewis whispers, and Jenson finally looks away and groans, taking the onesie. "Ruining mine and bug's moment." "His name is Theodore, Theo for short." Jenson doesn't think it is possible, but he falls more in love with the little boy and his mother.

"Called Sebastian," Mark walks into the room and coos at the little blue eyes staring at him. Mark freezes and looks at Lewis with realization; Lewis slowly shakes his head no, and Mark looks at you, sleeping peacefully in the bed, and back at one of his dearest friends dressing the tiny human. "Yeah, what did he say? Does he even want to see his son?" Jenson asks in a cheery tone, but they can hear the anger in them.

Theo coos and yawns. Mark melts before shaking his head. "Um, he said, 'Oh, that's good,' and hung up." Jenson picks up little Theo and holds him close like any father would. "Fuck him," Lewis casts a glare, and Jenson doesn't see it too wrapped up in little Theo, who just stares right back at Jenson.

"Jenson," Lewis whispers; his close friend looks up with so much happiness and love that Lewis feels his heartbreak. Don't forget, he's not yours." Jenson's smile fades, blinking slowly as he looks back down at Theo and then at you. I know, but a man could dream." Jenson's voice breaks as he leans down, kissing Theo softly. "A man could dream," he whispers softly.

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