#tw: blood kink if you squint

[kpopnstarwars]

Upon the Sands of the Arena: Feyd-Rautha x Reader

A/N: basically reader fights feyd in the arena, my apologies if there are any inaccuracies, i'm dUmB

tw: 18+, smut YAAA, fighting, swearing, i use fire metaphors too much, blood, violence and death (it's in a a gladiatorial arena ffs), creampie, one ass spank, fingering + oral (f receiveing) hella lot of sexual tension, Fighting as Foreplay, feyd sorta has a blood kink but he's just freaky like that, sort of fluffy at the end, hint of voyeurism if you squint really hard, lmk if there's anything else

wc: 4.1k

part 2

The Bene Gesserit are distracted.

If the Kwisatz Haderach was not so near, they would have disposed of you properly. Instead, they sucked you back into their dark web of deceit and occulted plans only to spit you out just as fast, leaving your fate to the blood soaked sands of Giedi Prime’s arenas. You believe that if it were not for the actions of Lady Jessica Atreides and her defiance of the order, they’d pay you more attention.

Not that you’re complaining.

You were trained to flourish in the dark, lurking in the shadows of the deepest of nights, awaiting a time to strike. However, you are not like your mentors, you do not believe in the hoping, the weaving of bloodlines for the production of a distant messiah, nor do you dirty your hands to obey an imperious Reverend Mother.

Truly, you admire Lady Jessica for doing the same as you did - defying the order and thereby splintering from it; all the same, you do not desire what she wants. For she wants power for her son and her unborn daughter, and you want nothing but to be left alone.

In a universe full of yearning for a greater purpose, you want the opposite. Often, you find yourself wishing you were something of nature: not mundane, by any means, but uncontrollable, like the desert winds that sift through the sands of Arrakis simply because. To be like them, without a master, without the endless search for purpose, is freedom.

Instead, you have been branded with the title Bene Gesserit - ex Bene Gesserit now - and you wield too much power for the order to ignore you, even alone. Hence why they incorporated your capture into their plans, engineering it so that you face the Baron’s brutal, bloodthirsty nephew in the arena.

They’re going to have to try harder than that to kill you.

You think they forget that you once were as good as the rest of them. They forget that you still possess the ability to alter the molecules in your blood to resist the drugs they pump into the arena prisoners, and they forget that you trained beside the best in combat.

The arena is where you thrive.

The roar of the crowd is deafening. It excites you, the swell of noise that is thousands of harsh Harkonnen tongues heckling for blood; the stamp of their feet as they cry their na-Baron’s name vibrates through the arena, through the grains of sand beneath your feet, deep and heady like burgundy wine.

Your fingers tighten around the blade given to you, barely sharpened and made of unsanded wood, but solid all the same. It’s all you’ll need against the na-Baron. He is but a cruel man set on fire with exterminable blue flames, and you are Bene Gesserit: defiant of the order or not, it is who and what you are, and it is pure power coursing through your veins - power that answers to you and you only.

The roar of the na-Baron soars over the crowd’s cheering, animalistic and full of fury that makes you wonder what incenses him so much. Something in his past, maybe, something that he only acknowledges in the inner machinations of his cunning mind.

The grate in front of you opens, and you allow yourself a smile as you step out into Giedi Prime’s tortorous ebony sun. High above, you spot the slit of a balcony where the Baron himself reclines, watching his nephew with a benevolent smile and a pipe in his hand, flanked by subservient concubines with bowed heads. All around, the crowd shouts, thunderous, urging their na-Baron to spill blood on the sand, to paint the arena red. It swirls around you like a washed out dream, black and white but simultaneously vivid, the stink of rotting bodies and sun bleached white sand pungent in your nostrils, the occasional pop from the fireworks overhead heavy in your ears.

Rolling your shoulders, you pace a few steps in before sitting down in the sand, cross legged, the backs of your hands against your knees with your blade flat against one of your palms. Pitiless, you watch as the na-Baron slices the throat of the first prisoner that staggers his way, throwing him an enigmatic smile when he glances towards you.

His eyes are cold; calculating. They’re dark, striking against his pale skin as they suck in the light, and hungry too, as if he strives for something he does not quite know, always reaching, always burning for more.

Intriguing.

He circles in on the next prisoner, who meets his end by the same savage knife work as the first, his guts spilled out onto the greedy sand. Insatiable, chest heaving with excitement more than fatigue, the na-Baron turns to you, his final prey - his black teeth are bared in a magnificent, maniacal grin, his footsteps silent as he approaches.

Facing him now, you understand why the Bene Gesserit believed that by crossing the Atreides’ meant-to-be daughter with the Harkonnen’s na-Baron, they would make the Kwisatz Haderach. There’s no doubt in this man’s genetics, in the solid lines of his strength sheathed bones and the sheer virility and ferocity that permeates the air around him - it’s almost elegant, the way he prowls towards you, his stride lilting and laced with power. They picked him well.

Too bad you’ll have to kill him.

If he proves to be obtuse, you’ll have no choice but to slay him in order to save yourself. If he is, however, as cunning as they say, you’ll give him a chance to live - it’d be a shame to end him, actually: something draws you to the rawness of his nature, to the frigidity of the ire in his eyes.

The na-Baron circles closer, his skin like moonlight. He watches you like a hawk, as if he’s the one who’s hunting, ready for his next meal; his eyes flash in the sun, studying you, watching for your tells even as you identify his. Smiling, you drop into a crouch, knife outstretched like a twisted mockery of a peace offering, waiting for him to take the bait and strike.

He cocks his head. ‘It’s rare that I face a woman in the arena.’

‘I’m sure it will still be of pleasure to you, Feyd-Rautha.’

‘I believe it will increase it tenfold, little witch.’

You don’t have time to figure out how he knows you’re Bene Gesserit, because he slashes at you, once down towards your ribs and once back up at your throat. His knife flashes in the sun, reflecting the bloodlust in his eyes as it arcs towards you; light on your feet, you parry both of his blows, dipping in to land your own. He’s strong, which is of less concern to you than his speed. Feyd-Rautha fights as if he’s dancing: not in the aspect that there’s flourish in his bladework - quite the opposite, he keeps his strikes efficient and tight - but in the smooth, hypnotic way that the movements of his body blend seamlessly together.

The crowd screams as he forces you into defence. It’s temporary, though, because he gets reckless, both driven and blinded by his hunger for blood - enough so that you can dart your foot out, hooking it around his ankles and overbalancing him. Sprays of sand are kicked up as he tries to steady himself, and you force him down with the tip of your blade to his pale throat.

A single, sleek drop of scarlet slides down his skin. Unhurriedly, he brings a hand up to catch it before it leaks onto his black armour, lifting it so he can see the blood your knife has shed. His gaze flicks up to you, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

‘Huh,’ he remarks, pleasantly surprised.

And then he lashes out, bringing you down into the sand beside him. With the hilt of his knife, he knocks your own out of your hand, and it’s catapulted into the air, spinning end over end and catching the light before it somersaults into the ground a few feet away. The grit plumes up at your face as you scuffle with him, and you hiss, frustrated that the sand does not lend you any more traction.

Rolling you over so fast your head spins, Feyd-Rautha drives his knife down towards your exposed neck. It makes a bolt of panic shoot through you, followed by the deep seated, survival impelled instinct to use the Voice on him, but like hell you’re doing that; honour prevents you, as well as the desire to finish this fight properly. You have no choice but to grab his forearm, slowing his blade’s descent, and a mirthful, rasping noise leaves his chest - a laugh that sets his eyes alight.

And then, the pressure dissolves, falling away. He stands, smirking down at you, the sun like a damning halo around his head. Silence falls over the arena, the anticipation thick in the air as he raises his hand, gesturing somewhere over your shoulder.

‘Go on, little witch, get your knife.’

You sneer, seeing the greed in his eyes, the misguided belief that he’s got you where he wants you. He wants to play, and it delights you.

Taking a few steps in the direction of the knife, you feign acquiescence. You can feel his eyes on your back, can sense the triumph oozing off him, and you let the adrenaline coursing through your veins guide your limbs, twisting you around so you can lunge at him, one hand wrapping around his bare forearm and bending it backwards as you spin him sharply until his back meets your chest. Viciously, you yank his arm further back, and the pain of that combined with your elbow tight around his throat, constricting his airways, is enough to loosen his grip.

A gasp ripples through the crowd as Feyd-Rautha drops his knife. It lodges in the ground beside your foot, and you flick it up with the toe of your boot, your hand darting out to snatch it from the air. The man in your arms bucks and writhes, but you keep your hold on him as you bring the knife to his neck for the second time.

‘Uh oh,’ you sing-song into his ear. ‘What’s happened here?’

He stills in your arms a little. ‘Why don’t you do it?’

‘I fear I’ve grown attached to you during our little fight,’ you hum. ‘It would be a shame to end a specimen like yourself.’

‘You are Bene Gesserit, I’m sure that you have arrangements - ’

‘I may be one, but I do not follow the order,’ you snarl. ‘I spare you because I wish to. Now, Harkonnen, knock the knife from my hand.’

You feel his muscles tense, the hesitation coursing through his body as he determines whether your bid is a trick or not, and then he does as you say, catching it smoothly and spinning to bring it to your throat. Calmly, you stare into his narrowed eyes, the cold caress of the blade harsh against your exposed skin.

‘What’s stopping me from killing you now, little witch?’

You laugh. ‘I trust I’ve piqued your interest sufficiently, na-Baron.’

‘Just Feyd is fine.’

You open your mouth to mock him, but he slices the blade away from your neck, very purposefully nicking you. Blood beads at the seam of the cut, hot and vengeful; he grips the back of your neck, exposing your throat to him, and prickles of pain shoot through you as the wound stretches. Frozen, you wait to see what he’ll do next, heart fluttering in your chest in a way that you know is not fear.

Insouciantly, he licks a long stripe up your skin, his scorching tongue following the trail of crimson his blade left behind. All consuming heat wells up in your stomach when he grins at you, displaying the hint of red coating his obsidian teeth, his eyes igniting the air between you as they dip down to survey your body, your heaving chest.

And then he releases you. You find your knees have gone weak, and you stumble as the guards close around you, grabbing you roughly under the armpits and dragging you out of the arena, your knees making twin tracks in the sand.

Managing a glance behind you, you catch sight of Feyd, his fist held triumphantly in the air as the crowd roars for their na-Baron.

Unsurprisingly, they throw you into a cell. Its walls are made of smooth, dark metal which seem to swallow up any sound that you make - it doesn’t surprise you that Vladimir Harkonnen has a Bene Gesserit proof cell - and the only thing furnishing it is a black blanket on the ground. A servant comes in and treats the shallow cut on your neck, but he refuses to meet your eyes and scurries off as fast as he can, almost forgetting to lock the door behind him.

You estimate two hours, maybe three, before Feyd appears in the doorway. His silhouette appears in the small glass window set in the door and pauses; you wonder if he’s considering leaving you there for a little longer, but then the lock disengages with a whoosh and the door slides open.

The air is immediately charged as he strides down the steps, eyes locked on you. With the smooth hiss of hydraulics, the door closes behind him, and he prowls forward, not quite smiling yet - you sense that he’s here to continue what you didn’t finish in the arena, and your back straightens a little as his gaze rakes over your body. He’s taken off his armour, leaving him in the thin black underclothes beneath, and he too has had someone treat the wound in his neck.

‘Your resistance to the drugs is remarkable, little witch. My blade was laced too.’

You raise an eyebrow. ‘I find that matter quite disappointing, actually, that you must face your opponents in the arena when they are half sedated in order to best them.’

He smiles, stepping closer to you until you share air. ‘It’s not just the winning I seek.’

‘Oh, what is it then?’ You ask. ‘Pain?’

Quick as a snake, you strike, letting the thrill of the fight shoot through you yet again as he matches you blow for blow. He looks at you as if he wants to eat you, to taste you - not just your lips or your tongue, but the defiant burn of your lifeblood too, and it makes you want to sink your teeth into him.

Slipping past his guard to catch the front of his shirt, you bunch the material in your hand and tear, baring his well muscled chest to you. The sight of it makes your lips quirk upwards, further so at the sound he makes: a half growl and a half groan as he lunges for you, wonderfully infuriated by the way you dance just out of his grasp, slipping through his fingers like water. His eyes are kindled with ardour - for both your blood and your flesh - and when they meet yours, shivers snap down your spine and tug at your stomach.

Feinting to the left, you jab at his neck. Like a scorpion waiting to strike, he grabs your wrist, tugging you towards him; you glance down at his feet, easily predicting that he’s going to sweep your legs out from under you if you let him bring you any closer. Yanking your hand back, you attempt to shake his grip on you, but he refuses to let go.

You slap him across the face.

Hard.

His fingers loosen on you as his head snaps to the side, the noise your palm makes against his chiselled cheek sharp and ringing in the cell. A soft, animalistic sound leaves the back of his throat, and when he lifts his chin, his jaw clenched to perfection, the pure lust in his eyes makes you stumble back a step.

Rushing at you, he takes advantage of the heady swoop of desire that messes with your head, slowly backing you against the wall with each punch and kick he throws. Heat roils in his gaze, so intense that when he slams you against the wall, you don’t know whether he’s going to kill you or kiss you - the not-knowing thrills you, sets your bones and soul on fire. One of his hands comes up, his fingertips caressing your throat before he pounces, mercilessly cutting off your air supply.

Leaning into your space, he brings his lips up to your ear. ‘If I’d had my way, little witch, I’d have fucked you right there on the sand, with all of them watching.’

Your head spins, and you can’t tell if it’s because of the lack of oxygen in your lungs or the feeling of his strong thigh pressing between your legs, relentless as he grinds it against your clit. You allow yourself a second to enjoy it before you retaliate, adrenaline seething in your blood.

Burying your nails into his arm, you twist it to the side, unbalancing him and taking him to the floor - his fingers grip your shirt, bringing you down with him. You land on his torso, straddling his hips, and as you do, he snaps his wrists down and rips your shirt from top to bottom down your back. The cool air of the cell sends ripples of goosebumps up your skin, and Feyd’s wide, calloused palms follow their path, surprisingly warm, deceptively gentle.

Bucking his lower body, he flips you over, pinning your hands over head, his long fingers circling your wrists as his hips press heavily into yours. Your eyes flick down to his mouth as he dips his head, his breath ghosting against your cheek; the curve of his lips is soft and almost graceful compared to the rough way he grinds against you, eager for more, yet eager to torture himself with the wait.

Tipping your jaw up, you let your lower lip brush his before you turn your head to the side, denying him. Amusingly, he follows your touch, insistent that you kiss him, but you ease out of his grip and trap him between your arms when he gives chase - a growl sounds low in his chest, one of his hands gripping your thigh, futilely yanking at your trousers as you grapple, rolling over and over on the cell’s floor.

His hand slams down beside your head, stopping your course, his forearm flat against your throat - not quite choking you, but not letting your air supply run free. Feyd’s touch sears your skin in the best way, and you wish to be consumed by the flames.

‘Must I tie you up, little witch?’

His voice is low and rasping, sending shivers up your spine. You don’t answer, instead claiming his lips, welcoming the insistent press of his tongue as you thrust your hips against his, seeking that exquisite friction. Running your hands up his strong back, you hook your elbow around the nape of his neck, locking him to you as he explores the taste of you.

Abruptly, he pulls away, and you open your mouth, protest on your lips until he tugs down your trousers and underwear, tossing them somewhere to the side, his own garments following. You get one good look at him, at his powerful, muscle lined thighs framing your hips and the curve of his leaking cock against his stomach before he swipes his fingers between your folds, sending jolts of pleasure through your core.

When he lowers his face to your heat, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, a breathless moan slips from you, loaded with anticipation. You can’t stop the louder echo that leaves you when he dips his fingers into cunt, curling them to hit your sweet spot, and your nails claw at his shoulder blades, leaving red trails behind them.

‘That’s it, little witch,’ he croons. ‘Sing for me.’

And sing you do, as he wrings the pleasure from you with his tongue and fingers until your legs tremble and close around his head. He pins your thighs to the floor, holding you open for him as he tastes you, insatiable, pushing you unrelentingly over the edge, again and again until hot tears slide down your cheeks and your voice breaks from crying his name.

Finally, he buries his length inside you. Your eyes roll back at the stretch of it, your pussy fluttering around him; you muffle the moan that rips itself from your chest by biting down on his shoulder. He chuckles as you mewl his name, your back arching as he pulls out, only sheathe himself up to the hilt when he thrusts back in - he’s as drunk on your sounds as you are on his cock: he needs more. More of you, of your delicious sounds and your intoxicating scent and that sweet, sweet cunt of yours.

Feyd fucks like he fights: ruthless, full of passion and lust, remorseless.

Just as you’re about to come around his cock, he pulls out, leaving you scrabbling against the floor, hips futile as they follow his, his name like a plea on your lips. He drinks in your desperation, flipping you over and cracking his palm down hard on your ass before slamming himself back into your weeping pussy, the ragged cry that escapes you like the nectar of the gods on his tongue as he swallows it with a kiss. Gathering your hair in his fist, he pulls your head back, pounding tirelessly into you as he pins you to his solid chest, mouthing at the skin behind your ear.

As Feyd spills his warm seed inside you, you wonder if the Bene Gesserit were actually distracted, or if that was what they wanted you to think as they crossed bloodlines, even despite your defiance of their order.

You flop onto the blanket as Feyd eases himself out of your spasming cunt. Your head is fuzzy, warm, and a dumb smile pulls at your lips.

Feyd chuckles. ‘I have not broken you, have I, little witch?’

You send him a look half as fierce as it should be. ‘Barely. You have merely sated me - for now.’

He laughs again, lying next to you on the blankets. His body is angled towards you, but he doesn’t reach out - that he lay down beside you is surprising to you in the first place, but you seize the opportunity and curl up in the curve of his body, enjoying the warmth of his skin. Slowly, his fingers card through your hair, and you close your eyes, letting yourself enjoy the moment of softness from the bloodthirsty na-Baron of House Harkonnen.

Reaching out, you grab the blanket and fold it over the two of you - he rolls over so that he lies with his head resting on your chest. His lips brush the skin between your breasts, and you're struck by the glimpse of vulnerability that Feyd allows you to witness; this is not by accident, this is a gift from him, a way of silently telling you that he has come as close to trusting you as he could ever come to trusting someone.

Silent, you bask there in the afterglow, eyes half closed. At some point, you seek Feyd’s lips, and he obliges you, lazily exploring your mouth in a way he did not get a chance to do before, sighing contentedly as you trace the lines your nails carved along the grooves of his broad back. Eventually, you pull away, staring into his eyes where the embers of the fire that had blazed in them still glow with the heat of it. You need to go.

Gently, your breath mingling with his, you kiss his cheek, your lips gliding against his skin before you get up, briefly laughing at the wobbly nature of your legs before gathering your clothes and dressing as best as you can, considering he ripped your shirt all the way down the back.

When you glance over your shoulder, he’s propped himself up on his elbows; the blanket has slipped down to reveal most of his moon coloured stomach, and he regards you with mirth mixed with something like respect.

You pause in the doorway. You can tell he’s letting you leave.

A smile plays on his lips.

‘We’ll meet again, little witch.’

It’s not a question, nor a whimsy. It’s a promise.

[apollos-calliope]

little fic inspired by this post by @murdrdocs - no editing because i pumped this out in half an hour and i want people to know how much i would pay for someone to do this to me

tw: MDNI! 18+ content, slight blood kink, dacryphilia, face fucking, slight dubcon if you squint, semi-public sex, reader is obsessed with being clean

your dad had an obsession with cleanliness. when you were a young girl, you never noticed a speck of dust on the counter or a crumb on the floor. you did chores frequently, and you were always lectured when you had a hair out of place or an untucked shirt.

perhaps that’s where you had gotten it from. the slightest indication of something being messy, of something going wrong, sent you over the edge. plans were meant to be made for specific times, and routines were the best way to structure things. so you’d wake up at 5:30 each morning, dressing in a pink sports bra, pink leggings, and matching pink trainers. you finished it off with a pink bow folded left over right, in the same direction you applied your lipgloss. you walked towards the sword fighting arena, reaching the doors as soon as the clock hit six.

you walked over to your usual area, setting your metal water bottle down with a soft clanging noise.

you were thankful that the dirty gym floor was not your only option, instead choosing to bring your own yoga mat. the pristine pink rolled out over stained blue, covering up years’ worth of demigod training. you’d prefer to work out over something less icky, but the aphrodite cabin was crowded enough - and this was preferable to the bare grass.

you pretended not to notice the hermès’ boy in the center of the arena. a layer of sweat coated his skin generously as he dove back and forth, practicing intricate techniques you couldn’t even fathom using.

he peeled off his camp shirt slowly, turning towards you and meeting your eyes. he sent you a wink, clearly aware that you had just been ogling him. you blush deeply and look down, choosing instead to pick at the skin on the outside of your thumbs.

that was the first sign he noticed. your pristine image could be worn down. he wanted to use it against you.

the first night he grabbed your wrist while you were picking at your skin. he brought your bleeding fingers up to his mouth and wrapped his tongue around them firmly, maintaining eye contact as he sucked. he nearly combusted at the pretty little whimper you let out, clenching your thighs together. you were wearing those light pink leggings you loved, so he could see the wetness forming anyway. he let your fingers go with a ‘pop’ noise, laughing softly as he watched you furiously wipe your fingers down on your thighs.

“do you have hand sanitizer, luke?”

the next time he was a little bolder, wrapping one hand around your throat and trailing the other one behind your head, smiling widely at your gasp as he undid the perfect bow. he watched your hair fall around your pouting face with glee. when he let go of your throat, it was to tie your wrists together in a similarly neat little bow above your head. he was going to tear you apart, but the least he could do was give you something orderly to focus on while you drooled and sobbed over his violent thrusts, choking on his cock a little bit more each time. he liked the way you looked like this, mascara running down your cheeks and doe eyes looking up at him with desire.

the third time he caught you after a workout, pulling you into the woods and pushing you over a tree stump. you began to complain about the scratchiness on your stomach, only stopping when a forceful yank to your ponytail caused you to wince. within seconds he had torn the fabric of your pink leggings, thrusting into you relentlessly as he watched the hole rip wider and wider. you whined loudly, annoyed at the mess but in a state of pure euphoria. luke palmed at every inch of you, slapping your cheeks with his rough hands and pushing your pink sports bra down your shoulders to bite at the skin of your breasts. you cried as you came, the force of your orgasm causing him to release inside you. he knew you would despise the sticky feeling of his cum coating the skin of your thighs, and he adored that.

the next morning, people were shocked when you walked into the mess hall with your hair down, one of luke’s camp shirts covering your pajama shorts. you wore slippers, a tired look in your eyes, and several massive hickeys on your neck. he was delighted when the first thing you did was walk over to him and grab him by his arm, dragging him to your empty cabin for a round two. or three or four, depending on how much you felt like being ruined that particular day. there was something so captivating about being so free, so unclean.

[angel-of-the-moons]

Cycles

Miguel O'Hara x Spider-Woman!Reader

TW/Content Warnings: NSFW, Smut, PIV Sex, Heat/Rut Cycles, Territorial, bit of Feral!Miguel, improper use of webs, pheromones, hormones, predator/prey dynamic if you squint, Unprotected Sex, Biting, Scratching, Bondage(?), Breeding Kink (c'mon we all know Miguel has one), established relationship, boyfriend/girlfriend, rough sex, oral sex, blowjob

MINORS DNI: I am not responsible for the content that you are about to read/consume, if you are upset by the themes in this fic, do not read it and scroll on by!

A/N: For context, you are a Spider-Woman who is one of (maybe the only) the few Spiders who have similar powers to Miguel. This is my first Miguel x Reader fic I've ever written, and my first fic ever posted here on Tumblr! (Header does not indicate reader's race)

Earth 7164. New York. Middle of summer.

The scent hit him the moment he tore through the portal. A heavy, sweet, earthy scent that flooded his whole body with a rush of adrenaline. Even the fat droplets of summer rain that fell from the dingy skyline did little to diminish that delicious, mouth watering scent.

Your scent.

His body was trembling as he rolled his shoulders in an attempt to rid himself of the tension that roped its way through his heavy muscles. His talons flexed as he gritted his teeth, each drag of his lungs pulling your scent into his body.

Miguel O'Hara was a man who would claim he had a good sense of control over his urges. He would also say he was a good boyfriend, attentive. A bit protective (some would say possessive).

But, he had been neglecting you as of late, his duties in the Spider Society and ensuring the safety of the universe had kept him away from you these past few weeks, and he almost lost track until he felt that familiar boiling of his blood, an itch that he knew could only be scratched by you.

And he knew that you would be experiencing a similar situation to him, almost parallel. In fact, he surmised you were probably the only Spider who had similar powers. The only difference was that whereas Miguel's powers were (sort of) intentional, and other Spiders were given to them after being bitten by radioactive spiders... You were born like this. They didn't know why. Hell, you didn't know why.

You had the venom (you could consciously control how much you pumped out in every bite), you had your own talons (although yours were a part of your nails, not in the pads of his fingers and toes), the wall crawling abilities, natural web-shooting...

And your cycle. At first having you around was torture on his senses when it would roll around. It would start with your scent changing; the dampness he picked up from between your legs making the blood rush straight to his dick. More often than he'd like he'd have to excuse himself to his private lab to jerk himself off until he felt some of his clarity return.

But it was always just a temporary relief. It only got worse when your breeding cycle and his rut cycle synced up, resulting in the two of you needing to almost be sedated and kept away from each other. (How Lyla kept that under wraps, Miguel never knew.)

And once your dynamic shifted and you started seeing each other, and eventually getting intimate... well. He was positive that Jess or Peter suspected what was up... Especially when he would disappear to your universe for a week or so, only to come back in a slightly better mood, small dark patches peeking out from beneath the collar of his suit, or you would be walking funny or unable to sit comfortably.

Right now, though, those thoughts were shoved to the back of his mind. The only thing he could think of was you. He could smell you, taste you in the air. This was your territory, and he... Could be considered an intruder, depending on your mood.

A male spider waltzing into a pissed off and horny female spider's web during breeding season.

Shaking his head, he took another deep drag of the air around him, the smell of the city mixing with your earthy, almost fruity tones. Your scent was faded slightly, but he could still use it to track you beneath the smog, garbage, and vehicle exhaust.

It's not like he didn't know where your apartment was... But he knew during this period of time you'd be restless, irritable, angry.

And mind-numbingly horny.

Miguel launched himself up, slinging his wrist out and using his glowing webs to propel himself in between the buildings and skyscrapers; leaping, flipping, arching through the sky in a red-and-blue blur.

He knew he was closing in on you. Your scent was all but strangling him, choking the air and what little sanity he was clinging to right out of him.

He should have known you were waiting.

Miguel was rammed into with the speed of a runaway train, the oxygen he so desperately needed ripped from his lungs as he tumbled with a roll onto the rooftop below, landing on all fours as his talons dug into the concrete and tar, leaving deep grooves as he slowed himself.

He lifted his gaze to see you land in front of him, chest heaving, body trembling.

"I have been waiting for you, for almost two weeks." You wheezed out.

"Hell of a way to greet me, querida." Miguel grunted, pulling himself to his feet.

Beneath your mask, he knew your eyes immediately dragged down to the hard bulge pressing against his suit, the hard outline of it sending a fresh throb of arousal straight to your core.

"The kick was a bit much." He said, trying to maintain a professional composure.

But his control was quickly slipping.

"Shut the fuck up."

The short rebuke didn't surprise him.

"Should have been here days ago." Miguel said, swallowing hard at the lump in his throat. "I know that. But--"

You cut him off by lunging at him, hurling your full weight onto him and pinning him down beneath you.

The heat between your legs felt like it melted through his suit, burning the skin beneath and causing a fever to spread.

You raised your fist to bring it down on his face but his reflexes allow him to catch it, gripping you like a steel vice. His other hand gripped your thigh as he planted his feet on the rooftop, rolling to pin you beneath him, his massive frame caging you in.

He squeezed your hips between his thighs, muscles tensing and twitching, breathing heavy. Your free hand reached out and clawed at him, tearing at his suit, leaving a rainbow of glitched out fabric behind, small droplets of blood rushing forth to drip down his tanned skin.

He gritted his teeth at the sensation, the sweet burn sending another wave of heat through his body that made his cock twitch.

You were past talking, past negotiating and being civil. You knew what you wanted, and you wanted it now.

You breathed heavily, gritting your teeth as Miguel gripped your thigh and forced your knee by your head, squeezing the plushest part as his face dragged down to the dark patch soaking through the fabric of your suit.

Using this new position, you kicked at him square in his chest and threw him off of you.

Before he could right himself, you rolled to your feet and jumped off the roof, shooting a web to sling you away from him.

Sure, you were horny and wanted to ride his cock til he couldn't see straight for a month. But he had been gone for weeks and you had been struggling with your own self-care, your measley silicone toys and vibrators barely able to compare with that womb-punching length that Miguel crammed into you, or his skillful and knowledgeable hands rubbing you until your eyes rolled back. But right now, you were pissed.

He wanted your pussy? He was going to have to work for it.

And if that meant playing your cat and mouse game for an hour, building the anticipation and making his cock leak; aching, desperate for a taste of you? So be it.

You played this game for a while, teasing him, getting within arms reach before yanking yourself away at the last possible second, thwarting his attempts to catch you.

Sometimes you liked to play with your food.

But all games come to an end. And this one had an abrupt ending when Miguel headed you off, tackling you to the roof of some abandoned warehouse, pinning you down on your belly, hands above your head.

"Bout fucking time I caught you. Tu pequeño bromista.." (You little tease.) He snarled, leaning down to your ear as his mask dissipated from his head, letting his wavy chocolate hair fall free, damp strands plastering themselves to his forehead.

His eyes were wild, red and glowing; pupils blown wide.

"Fuck you." You hiss, squirming under him.

"Oh, sucederá en, no te preocupes." (Oh, don't worry, it will happen.)

Miguel raised his free hand and brought it down hard on your ass, making you bite your lip to contain the mewl that tried to claw its way out of your throat.

"Look at you, now, hermosa." He sneered, his chest huffing in a small, humorless laugh. "I can fucking smell you from a mile off."

He reached down and cupped your mound, his fingers squishing slightly in the damp fabric of your suit; but once again you deny him a moan, instead biting into your lip, fangs threatening to puncture your lip.

You squirm an arm free and go to elbow him in the face, get him off of you. (Or under you.)

But he predicted that. That's what always got you going when you were in the middle of your cycle. You liked it rough.

His large hand completely encircled your elbow and forced your arm back down. Quickly, he used his glowing, laser-webs to secure your wrists together before he gripped the fabric of your suit with his talons, shredding it as he yanked you over so you were on your back.

Miguel smiled and yanked your mask off of your head, tossing it to the side before gripping your chin with his fingers, putting enough pressure to keep your eyes on his.

"Now... What should I do with you?" He said contemplatively, tapping your cheek with his index finger, making a show of thinking, his eyes dragging over the flushed features on your face, your tongue darting out to wet your dry lips.

"Ah. That's it." He grinned, his slightly askew teeth gleaming in the dark. He grips you by the front of your torn suit and pulls you to your knees as he stands.

He grips the crotch of his suit, and rips at it with his talons, the torn edges doing that kaleidoscopic glitch of colors as his cock springs free from its confines; large, twitching, angry red tip leaking in excitement.

You have to bite your tongue to keep in your little groan, your heart soaking through and dripping out through your suit.

"Hmh." He grunted, annoyed. "I'll loosen your fucking mouth. I've been keeping myself under control this whole time. But now? I'm not going to be gentle."

He gripped your hair, just shy of painful as he dragged your head to his crotch, the tip of his cock smearing his precum across your cheek.

"Chúpalo." (Suck it.)

You finally give in, your hands bound in your lap as you drag your tongue along a prominent vein in the velvety skin of his shaft, earning a deep, rumbling groan from him that you swore sent vibrations straight to your cunt, making you flutter around nothing.

You pull your head back and swirl your tongue around the tip, pulling and tugging as you lap at his slit, eagerly tasting every drop of pre he was giving you before diving in and taking the rest of his tip in your mouth, bobbing your head in a steady rhythm.

He massaged your scalp, his talons tickling the skin under your hair as he encouraged you to continue.

But you knew his calm demeanor wasn't going to last. It wasn't long before he grabbed at your hair with both hands, forcing you to choke down on his length, just shy of blocking off your airway as he fucked your face, the tension and stress from your cat and mouse game coming out as his tip kept shoving at your throat, your nose brushing the dark curly hairs at the base, his balls slapping your chin with every thrust; saliva pooling around his length as you keep your fangs pulled back as you let him use your throat like a fleshlight.

You close your jaw microscopically, fangs grazing the flesh.

"Míralo!" (Watch it!) He reprimanded, pulling your hair roughly to pull you back, his cock springing out of your lips with a wet pop, saliva connecting the tip with the soft pink muscle in your mouth like a weak bridge.

"Be a good girl." He snarled, pulling you back down on his length, barely letting you catch your breath before forcing you all the way down, tears welling up in your eyes and falling down your cheeks as you choked and gagged.

You knew exactly how to lick, suck, and tug at his cock to get the best reactions, the most delicious sounds from him.

You snuck a glance up at him, watching as he tipped his head back with a throaty groan as you greedily swallowed him down.

You moaned around him; his cock throbbed.

You felt him twitch, felt his hips sputter as he gritted his teeth.

"Fuckin' close." He snarled, looking down at you as your eyes connected with his feral ones.

You rocked your clothed cunt on your heel, trying desperately to get some friction to your aching clit. Miguel caught this motion, and held you down on his cock, choking you from not letting you ease off.

"You're not allowed to touch yourself." He said through gritted teeth, pulling your head back with a harsh tug, letting you get a gulp of air before voraciously fucking your mouth again. You obeyed his command, sitting in your slick that was dripping down and out of you, your folds puffy and neglected.

"Fuck..." He breathed heavily, he could feel that burn, that coil about to snap, his blood boiling and rushing straight to the tip of his dick as he felt his balls draw tight.

You moaned softly around him, gagging slightly before that rush of heat flooded your mouth as you worked your throat to swallow every last drop of the load he was feeding you.

Miguel panted, dragging some much needed air in his lungs as he let you pull back, hacking and coughing as your airways flooded with oxygen again. You grin maliciously and bite down on his thigh. No venom of course, but just enough to remind him you were there, earning you a sharp glare and a slap to the back of your head as you licked your lips.

He ran a hand through his hair, and it wasn't but a moment later before he yanked you to your feet, and shoved his tongue past your lips to overpower yours, tasting his cum lingering on your breath as his heavy rut-scent flooded your nose. You moaned shamelessly into the kiss, biting and tugging at each others lips until a burst of cooper flooded your mouth.

Miguel pulled away and licked at his bloody lip, before his mouth twisted into a snarl. He barreled into you, forcing you against a rooftop air-conditioning unit.

His hand reached down as he ripped at your suit, your breasts bouncing free.

Of course you weren't wearing a fucking bra. Probably no panties either. Because you were just that fucking horny and desperate.

He leaned down and took one of your pebbling nipples in his mouth, biting and sucking roughly as you push your head back against the unit, the metal bumping as you do, a strangled cry coming from you.

He pulled back, before delving back down and putting the same torture on your other tit. This time however he pulled back, biting down on the marshmallowy flesh, making you mewl out as his tongue laves over the mark he made.

"Miguel!" You snarl, thrashing your leg to kick at him, your frustration and neglect finally getting to you.

Miguel caught your flailing lim and forced it up, pinning it against the air-conditioning unit with another shot of his webs, before securing your already bound hands with more, above your head.

He pressed his forehead against yours, his hot and heavy breath ghosting over your sweaty skin, before his hands once again swiped and gripped at your cunt, pawing at it like a cat kneading a blanket.

Miguel lazily dragged two fingers torturously slow up your slit, before punching your clit hard through the fabric.

"You've been misbehaving... But I know you're just going to keep acting out until I give you what you want." Miguel sneered into your ear.

You whimpered, arching into his touch as he pulled away, making a frustrated sob at the lack of contact.

You nearly had the air punched out of your lungs when Miguel dropped to his knees, inhaling the scent of your soaked pussy like it was a drug he needed a hit of. He opened his mouth and dragged his tongue up the soaked fabric, before latching on and sucking.

Now this was new. Getting eaten out through the fabric of your clothes. There was too much contact but somehow not enough as he rutted his nose at your clit, sucking more at your folds drawing more of your slick through the fabric.

You thrashed against his webs, trying so hard to roll your hips and fuck his face, but with the way you were pinned, you were at his mercy, especially when he hoisted your free leg over his shoulder. He pressed two fingers against your covered hole as he furiously suckled your clit.

Your orgasm crashed into you so hard you couldn't even manage a scream, your mouth just hung open on a silent cry, eyes rolling back as a fresh gush of slick leaked through your suit.

Miguel smiled against you and tore your suit's crotch open, and you shivered as the humid, summer air made contact with your slick and creamy folds. You barely had a second to realize what was happening before Miguel plunged back in, his nose rutting your clit once more as I sucked at your cream, your slick covering his chin.

Miguel was the best sexual partner you ever had, he knew exactly how to eat you out to the point you lost your voice without even using it.

Just as your second orgasm was creeping up on you, he pulled his mouth away, wiping his face clean with the back of his hand and licking his chops like a dog eyeing a juicy stake.

His cock bobbed against his stomach as he stood, a steady stream of precum dribbling out of the tip and to the ground below.

He pulled your free leg to wrap around his waist as he slid the underside of his cock against your puffy cunt.

Miguel bit down on your shoulder, hard as he forced himself into you with one brutal thrust, pushing the air out of your lungs as he punched your guts through your womb with his cock, spearing you wide as he set a rapid, relentless pace for the both of you.

You uttered breathless pleas, praises, and incoherent mumblings with each thrust; the two of you grunting and moaning in each others ears like rabid animals, Miguel's cock slamming home into your pussy, squelching, dripping, the slap of skin and hips colliding filling the very atoms around you.

Your body screamed, cried, ached for him to fuck you, fill you up to the brim.

Miguel's tip crammed against your cervix in such a brutal way that you swore he bullied himself into your womb with every thrust. It was a blossoming pain that bled into pleasure, quickly bringing you back to the edge of your second orgasm that he had denied you.

"That's it, baby." Miguel snarled in your ear. "Ah... So tight for me. You want me?"

You nodded, whimpering and sobbing into his shoulder.

"Want me to fuck you til you can't walk for a week? Stretch you til all you can think of is my cock?" He said, his voice edging on a gleeful tone as he pants, turning his head and licking at the sweat on your neck.

"Want me to fucking breed you?"

You bite into his shoulder at that, whimpering as his suit glitches around your fangs and you lick at the blood welling up.

He hissed, and his pace became frantic, almost angry as he reaches down and pinches your clit like before, and your orgasm comes flooding through every blood vessel in your body as you jerk mindlessly against him, your pussy crushing down on him, milking him for everything he can give you.

He moans loudly in your ear, snapping his hips up into yours, balls slapping your ass as you cry out, sobs wracking your chest as your vision blurs and the tension rips out of you.

You whimper, and hiccup against him when he forces himself into you one last time, his tip kissing that oh so lovely spot inside as he pumps his heavy and sticky load deep inside your pussy, dripping out of you with each jagged thrust as he fucks you through his orgasm.

When Miguel's hips still, his hand pets at your hair as he kisses your jaw, nipping the skin there as he slices the webs holding your legs and hands up.

"Mmmmh. I needed that." Miguel sighed into your hair.

You grunted in response, your fists gripping at his suit as you pull him down for a hungry and toothy kiss.

"Take me home and fuck me." You demanded.

All Miguel could do was smile, and carry you back to your apartment. The real trick was keeping his cock sheathed inside of you as he swung from building to building, trying to avoid anybody who may have a camera phone...

But honestly? You didn't care.

However...

The two of you did care, a few weeks later.

When two little pink lines appeared on the stick in your hand.

"Fuck."

[htmszi]

0FFIC1AL T0KY0 REV3NGER$ GROUP M.L1$T.

“𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐙𝐘, 𝐒𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍’ 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐔𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊?”

18+ content, not suitable for minors.

tw’s will be written under every piece of writing, please don’t read if the content isn’t suitable for you!

a small/brief summary/synopsis will be written for fics only </3

$FW —

⤷ 1:05AM. / multiple tokyo rev characters / angst / small drabble for each character / ↺ / ∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°

⤷ FEATURING: K. Hanemiya, M. Sano, R. Haitani.

C/W: hurt/comfort, panic attacks, mentions of abuse, hints of misogyny, mental breakdowns, punching, blood, mentions of past relationships. ☄. *. ⋆

HEAD CAN0N$ —

⤷ BREEDING KINK. / multiple tokyo rev characters / nsfw warning / ↺ / ∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°

⤷ FEATURING: Manjiro Sano (mikey), Ken Ryuguji (draken), Kazutora Hanemiya, Rindou Haitani.

C/W: size kink of you squint, creampies, breeding, slight cervix fucking, mentions of pregnancy, literally just lots of cum and reader being bred. ☄. *. ⋆

⤷ 0FFER1NG H1M Y0UR F1R$T T1ME. / multiple tokyo rev characters / (kinda) soft nsfw warning / ↺ / ∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°

⤷ FEATURING: Manjiro Sano (mikey), Sanzu Haruchiyo, Hanma Shuji & Chifuyu Matsuno.

C/W: unprotected sex, virginity loss, mentions of blood, creampie, size kink, reader cries, hints of dacryphilia, fingering, soft! Shuji. ☄. *. ⋆

[macravishedbymactavish]

Language Lessons (Roldofo Parra x F!Reader)

| Blog HQ | Modern Warfare 2 Masterlist | 18+ MDNI |

Fall4Rudy Submission - prompts used: see below.

TW for Google translated Spanish, reader is implied to be learning Spanish. Some spicy inuendos (it's implied his hand ends up fully down your pants) but nothing over PG13, hints toward a daddy kink if you squint

That's not how it was supposed to sound.

You were met with a confirming, amused snort followed by a peck to your cheek. Lips turning into a borderline frown, you huffed.

"This is impossible." Arms crossed across your chest, you shook your head. Leaning back in the chair, frustration prodding at your seams. "Maybe some people can catch on to this quickly, but it's not me!"

Head lolling back, you opted to stare at the ceiling. Tracing every line with your eyes to avoid the no doubt loving and patient expression from the man in front of you.

The silence hung thick between you, the small shuffles of his feet on the floor. Or the rubbing of his clothing signaled there was someone else in the room.

"El cariño. " Rudy softly whispered, palm resting on your knee. You squeezed your eyes firmly shut, offering nothing more than a small hm?

"Everything takes time, you've already learned so much. Mi mamá is proud of how much you've learned." His words filtered directly to the softest part of your being. To impress a woman of her stature in the family was a feat to be had.

"I am so proud." He whispered, warm palm sliding from your knee up your thigh. Gripping the muscle firmly as he did so. "Estoy muy orgullosa."

The combination of his hand and his words caused your will to falter. Meeting his soft brown eyes, filled with adoration, pride and energy. You sighed softly, lifting one hand to lay lightly on his cheek.

"Gracias amoré." Your voice shaky as you hoped your pronunciation was correct. Spirit faltering as he gently shook his head, reaching in to press a soft kiss to your lips as he corrected you. "This is impossible."

Pressing a few more kisses to your mouth and face, he leaned back slightly. Eyebrow raised as a mischievous smirk crossed his face. Hand placed firmly at the junction between your leg and hip.

"Greedy little thing, you want more incentive?" Blood rushed to your cheeks as he shifted his grip. Thumb now laying on the inseam of your pants, mindlessly moving over the thick fabric.

"Yes, please." Voice small as your eyes locked with his. An electric feeling taking over your body as he continued barely touching you. Thumb inches away from where you wanted it, hand still firmly gripping your thigh.

"Ah." He shook his head, sliding his hand toward your knee. Chuckling at the sound of surprise you made. "I want to hear you say it, in español."

"Si." You prayed he would ignore the waver in your voice. Nerves and anticipation tying knots in your stomach.

"Si, que?" He challenged. Scanning over your face and neck. Moving to nuzzle his nose against the soft skin.

"Si, Rudy……si, papi?" The feeling of his lips connecting with your neck in an open-mouthed kiss. Trailing down to your shoulder as you leaned your head to the side. Offering him as much room as you could.

"Buena niña." He groaned, asking you to repeat another phrase in Spanish. Hand moving slightly up when you whispered the words correctly. His mouth never stopping, except to move the fabric of your shirt to expose more skin.

"Keep going, you're doing good." Rudy whispered against your skin, fingertips teasing underneath the waist of your pants. Teeth grazing your collarbone as you took in a deep breath.

"Mi amore." A soft whine escaping your lips as his fingers moved out of your waistband. "Amor. Amor. Por favor." Gripping his wrist tightly, you felt him chuckle. Obliging with your request and slipping his fingers past the fabric once more. His movements encouraged by your broken Spanish.

"Dilo otra vez." He breathed, pulling back to look into your eyes. A gentle smile crossing his lips as you placed a hand gently on his cheek. Mumbling an incoherent sentence before pulling him into a kiss. Jumping slightly as he shifted his hand placement.

"Buena niña." He moaned, forehead falling to meet yours. Brain fried with your voice speaking his mother tounge, and the way you writhed against him.

"Buena puta chica."

Taglist: @bloodonmyhands-1221 @v1naco @bowtruckleninja

Rudy Taglist: @pearldog30

Prompts from Fall4Rudy:

"Good girl" (bonus, "good fucking girl") // Buena niña & Buena puta chica

"I want to hear you say it"

"Say it again" // dilo otra vez

[stoneagedevil]

i really liked the anton fic. could we possibly get a small continuation or a separate one entirely? smut included, if possible

Little Bird | Anton x Reader

CW/TW: Size kink if you squint. Smut. Blood/blood kink-ish. No protection. MDNI. Murder. Obsession. Possessiveness.

————

Anton didn’t do “deals.” He didn’t do half-assed jobs. He was the right tool to choose because of the way he operated; swiftly, completely, cleanly (save for the bloodshed), and typically got away with ease. People all over had called him a ghost, the only problem for his targets was that he was very much alive.

There was danger in even seeing Anton, as those who asked stupidly if he was going to kill them, he’d reply, “That depends…do you see me?”

The short answer was yes.

The shorter answer was a bullet in the face.

However, you had always been the exception. You’d seen every square inch of his body, and he yours, but he never intended to put a bullet between your gorgeous eyes. Anton understood emotions to a certain degree. He understood that emotions make people do stupid things, that love hurts and can make a sane man do insane things.

Anton understood emotions to a degree, yes. He just didn’t feel them, not all of them at least.

But the feeling that felt like the devil’s fiery hand crushing his heart was definitely real. He certainly felt his teeth clenching together, slowly tightening until he thought they’d crack. Certainly felt his hands white-knuckling the steering wheel of the beat-up pickup truck he stole.

And why? Well, love he’d assumed.

Anton wasn’t a man to bring you home flowers, or chocolates. He wasn’t a man to say “I love you’s.” He didn’t go to work at 9 and come home after 5. He was a stone cold killer, but damn it if he wasn’t obsessed with you.

You’d had no family, never made friends, and had no qualms about what he did. That’s not to say you couldn’t be friendly when the time arose. You could step up to the plate when you’d have to, and you’d killed a few people yourself a few times, only because you had to. You’d never go out of your way for it like he would. But you were perfect. Always saying the right things at the right times. Tough, but someone who he protected with his life. You’d always gone with the flow, if you needed to pack up at 3am because Anton got a tip that his target had dashed, you’d be the first one in the passenger seat to the vehicle you’d just hotwired. There were times in the most silent drives, he thought that perhaps mind-reading was a real thing. You always spoke with purpose. Always for a reason.

So to reiterate, you were perfect.

And you were currently being held captive by his “boss” because he’d found out that the not-so-little secret of his got out: he’d hired a few men other than Anton. To do a job Anton was already doing.

And now you were collateral.

Anton wondered if this is what Llewelyn Moss had felt. But then again, he couldn’t possibly have known. A man so willing to leave his woman for $2 million in cash wasn’t a man in love. He wasn’t a man to do insane things. Llewelyn didn’t try hard enough, and where he failed, Anton would succeed. He simply had to.

And so, it was set in stone by the stone cold killer. He’d be getting you back, one way or another.

-

He sped into the parking lot of the skyscraper, and although he hated populated cities, rich people didn’t. On the top floor is where he’d find his good-for-nothing boss-turned-target; soon-to-be-turned-cadaver. The truck’s breaks squealed like a pig, and Anton left the cab of the pickup just as fast as he’d stopped it. A slight breeze combed its fingers through his hair as he walked briskly, his feet light in his heavy boots.

An elevator ride later, and he was faced with the large wooden double-doors of his target’s office. If you weren’t in there, you were in the missing floor. Thankfully, he wouldn’t have to go looking too far as the minute he rushed into the sterile room, he was met with your eyes, the barrel of a revolver kissing your temple. He stopped then.

“I knew you’d come.” The man said. “You weren’t quick enough to get the man. We were out $2 million in cash and in product, and her life is just a fraction of that.” He sneered. Your eyes never left Anton’s, however. Your body was completely still, mouth covered with duct tape and hands with bloody knuckles bound together at the wrists. You’d caused trouble for them.

That only made him need you more.

You blinked slowly at him, and though you couldn’t say anything, if was thought you both had a secret language; one that never had formed into words. Never needed to, anyways.

You quickly threw yourself to the floor out of the barrel’s line of fire, and Anton wasted no time in bringing up his specially-made suppressed shotgun and shooting off the older man’s offending arm. The revolver and the bastard’s favored limb fell to the ground together, and you quickly rolled away as your captor writhed in shock. Your rolling was not quick enough to evade the blood of a severed artery, and the warm feeling of life itself spattered onto you.

Anton stalked over to you as his victim fell to the floor, growing increasingly weak as the blood drained from his body. It wouldn’t be too long before he’d be food for the worms. Taking out a switchblade and flicking it open, Anton’s large hands worked nimbly at cutting the rope that you were encased in, setting his little bird free once more. You reached a delicate had up to your mouth, violently ripping the tape off with little to no reaction.

He offered you a hand, and without hesitation, you took it. Anton helped you up, and the boss’s flailing had lessened. You both watched, but Anton’s interest laid elsewhere. He turn to look at you.

And there you were. By his side once again, your deep eyes watching the man he’d killed for you die, the man’s blood on your face and all over your body. You licked your lips, wet tongue clearing the blood away from your lips, the metal taste welcoming on your tastebuds. It signified freedom to you. A promise that Anton had made.

“Did he do anything?” Anton asked, almost demanding. His gravely voice conducted your eyes to look into his.

“No. Nothing I cannot deal with.” You replied softly, turning your head back to the body and tilting it.

Anton huffed slightly. Whether it was a release of anger, or a sigh of relief, he wasn’t sure. “Look at me.” He ordered. And you did.

In what seemed like an instant, the desk of the deceased was immediately cleared, your stomach then resting on the smooth wooden surface as Anton pressed himself behind you. You looked behind you at Anton, and he wrapped a single hand around your throat and brought your face to his. He licked the remaining blood off of your lips, moving his hand to your hair and angling your head to gain access to your neck. There, he nipped continuously, noises reverberating from your throat and into the luxurious office. You pressed yourself back into him as much as you could, but he was significantly taller, and your feet her hardly touching the ground.

“Anton.” You whined, the idea of being intimate on the desk and while you’re covered in blood becoming too much. He backed off at the sound of his name falling from your lips, and it was then you felt his hands reach around your hips and begin to unbutton your denim jeans with the same efficiency as he had when he cut away the rope. You aided in pulling your jeans down, along with your panties.

His little bird was free once more.

It wasn’t long before you heard the zipper of his own pants, and instead of turning your head to get a look, you took your hands and grasped the desk - bracing yourself. He’d always given you what you wanted.

No spit was needed, to say the least, and Anton slid in with ease; mostly thanks to you. You were always wettest when Anton had killed someone for you. For you. That was the most gorgeous part of him. Where all other men had limits, Anton had none. It made Anton wonder if he should hunt down every last person on Earth for you.

Anton was a violent man. One who did things quickly.

You were not one of those things.

He took his time with you, feeling you from the inside, and out. Warm, wet, tight, soft. So soft. Your soft skin balanced out the callouses on his hands. His teeth made themselves a home in the flesh of your shoulder, his hard grunts mingling with your soft moans. He tasted metal, far sweeter than the kind he tasted on your lips before. You had no choice but to feel him, as he stretched you out given his size.

Your abdomen tightened, your legs had begun to shake, and you clamped your legs together as you reached what you assumed was the closest thing to paradise. Anton split you open more, pushing deeper, the tightening of your hole - no, his hole - bringing him towards a paradise of his own. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you felt a warmth flood your insides. Anton bit harder into your flesh, finally releasing the right hold of his jaw after his orgasm. His mouth had blood around it, and he leaned forward once more to kiss you.

He pulled your clothing up over you and fixed it until you were decent, and then did the same to himself.

“You are mine.” He wouldn’t let anyone touch you, and if you were taken from him, he’d re-establish the fact that you were his, in one way or another.

“As if I could forget. As if I’d even want to.” You replied, standing shakily like a newborn fawn. Anton’s intense eyes studied your figure as you walked towards the door, stopping and turning to look at him, your eyes saying, ‘I’d follow you anywhere.’

So he lead the way. You’d hotwired another vehicle, the two of you becoming ghosts once again, and you becoming his little bird encased in his birdcage. His ribcage. Right next to his heart.

————

Thank you for your request anon! 💜

[gojos-thot-patrol]

Sukuna was a long forgotten God, one with only one true devotee left. And he would do anything to keep his high priestess safe.

NSFW God!Sukuna x HighPriestess!Reader. lots of religous refences and symbolism, heads up. also full of Mahito slander. an attempted (and failed) assult attempt. Blood kink if you squint. I believe thats it for TWs. 18+ only minors DNI, reader is AFAB and uses she/her. i wrote this while very very drunk. no beta reader, we die as men. no editor we die as fools.

On the edge of the village, deep in the woods, across the river and past the graveyard, there stands a long forgotten temple. Though, “stands” is pretty generous these days if you were being honest with yourself. The temple had fallen into your family's care you don't even know how long ago. That record had long since been lost to time, as well as any record of the temple even standing, thanks to your 7 times great grandfather. Your family had at one point taken great pride in maintaining the temple, but, since sorcery came to your extremely small village and took over as the dominant religion, running a temple of any sort could have gotten you killed. 

And your family just so happened to worship Sukuna, a god deemed the worst of the worst by the sorcerers. It made maintaining the temple almost impossible. And with the death of your father, you were left as the last of your bloodline. The last person that would ever care for that holy ground. These are the thoughts that plagued your mind as you made the hike to what you genuinely considered to be your safe space. The place that your mind summoned when you closed your eyes and envisioned home. You grunted as you opened the door, noticing that it was starting to stick again. Yea, the winter was coming. That checked.

The only thing that stood truly tall in this church for a heretic was a 7ft tall marble statue, representing the visage of your god. At least you think it did. You’d never met the man (being?) personally. “I’m sorry I’m late my lord,” you muttered softly to the marble as you knelt by the altar in front of it. You’d taken to talking more casually to Sukuna these days. Despite being a literal God, he was the only being (entity?) you had ever felt comfortable talking to. “Mandatory worship ran late today, though, I suppose there's nothing new there.”

Despite the relationship a priestess should have with her deity, you had taken to almost considering Sukuna to be a friend of yours. Should you do that? Probably not. But, as far as you knew, you were the last person in the world that worshiped this God, and as far as you were concerned, that met you got to decide how best to honor him. 

You spoke freely with the god as you placed the offerings on his altar, a long ornate table with a plush velvety cloth running along its length. The offerings were nothing special. Some roses from your garden, a few gold you were able to spare, and some coffee. You had brought enough for 2 cups, enough to share. As you placed the offerings, you swore the statue behind the table warmed, the energy in it changing from cold stone to something with more life in it, as if Sukuna himself had awoken to spend yet another evening listening to you.

Of course, you had no way of knowing that was literally what was happening. It had become how Sukuna kept track of the days, marking each one with a visit from his high priestess. He watched from the statue's eyes as you curled up at its base with your coffee and a book. He noticed a cup next to him. 

“Oh, how cute.” he thought to himself, “We’re sharing coffee now…I used to kill people.” he groaned to no one, rolling his eyes inside the stone.  It annoyed Sukuna to no end how long it had been since he’d been summoned. It wouldn’t take much, her unshakeable faith in him had kept him relatively strong. A blood sacrifice was all he was asking. Any trivial reason would do, any excuse to escape this miserable marble. He resented your however many great grandfathers for burning the information on how to properly worship him.

“Mahito came to ask for my hand in marriage again today.” you told your god as you sipped your coffee.

“Oh, this fucking guy again.” Sukuna growled. That failed science experiment of a man had been harassing you for months now. “I’ll slaughter him for you. Just let me out of this marble hell.”

“He said I couldn’t keep denying him forever.”

“Yes you can.”

“I told him I very well could.”

“Good.”

“Then he told me that no one else in the village wanted me. And that if I keep this up I’d just die an old hag.” you sighed into your cup.

“I’d rather you die a hag than touch him.” Sukuna scoffed. He couldn’t imagine his last priestess being violated by that unloved rag doll. 

“I said better a hag than his wife. I’d rather cut my hand off than touch that breathing corpse.”

“Atta girl.” Sukuna smiled. He didn’t know if you felt his influence that strongly or if you were just inherently on the same wavelength as him. Whatever the case was, He couldn’t remember liking any of his other followers quite as much as he liked you. Not that he’d ever admit it. For him, an immortal god of war and death, to care for a mortal was disgraceful at best and a sin unto itself at worst. Still, he knew a part of him would mourn you when your inevitable last breath escaped you. 

“Honestly my lord, every day I come just a little bit closer to faking my death and running to live the rest of my life here, away from the village.” you announced, agitation lacing your voice. Honestly, Sukuna wasn’t against the idea. At least then he’d always have you near. “I know it’s my duty to bear children so your worship continues after I'm gone, but the men in this village are truly insufferable my Lord! Couldn’t you send me just a half decent one? I’ll settle for one that showers!”

Yeaa, that wasn’t really in Sukuna’s wheelhouse. Besides, He’d given up long ago on his worship being continued after you were gone anyway. He wished he would find a way to tell you that. That he’d rather have no followers than a follower that came from any of those filthy fucks touching you. He thought for a moment, then summoned what he hoped was a sign. 

“Oh! A spider friend!” you laughed as you noticed a garden spider crawling up your leg. You took it in your hand, knowing Sukuna was historically considered the father of spiders due to his many arms and eyes. “I must have said something you liked, hmm?” you purred, gently placing the friend at the statue's base. “Does this mean you will send me someone?”

Sukuna decided that signs were utterly ineffective against humans, because everytime he sent one they fucked it up. He’d have to just spell it out for her. And he would! If she would just SUMMON HIS CORPOREAL FORM, FOR FUCKS SA-

“Oh dear, it’s getting late isn’t it? “ you muttered, packing up your things. “I should return home…” you never wanted to. As far as you were concerned, this was home. Here, in the woods you grew up in, hidden by the walls you had entered every day since you came to age, next to possibly the last idol of your god left in the world. But, sadly, if you choose to just up and leave, people would look for you. And you couldn’t risk them coming here. 

“Goodbye, my lord.” you muttered, moving around the altar, stretching on your tip toes and still only managing to kiss his sculpted robes. You chuckled to yourself. The sculpture was so nice, even all these years later you still expect the cloth to give at your touch. 

“Goodbye Y/n.” Sukuna sighed as he watched you ready yourself to leave. So ends another day. You gathered your things and made your way back to your little cottage at the edge of your village. 

~~~~~~

The walk back to your place was as uneventful as ever. It was peaceful even. The moon was full and bright, lighting your way easily through the dark woods, and you didn’t even feel a little spooked when you passed through the graveyard. But, that wasn’t really anything new. You always felt more confident after visiting Sukunas altar. It may have sounded crazy to others (I mean, it sounded a little crazy to you,) but you swore you could feel your Gods protection as you walked home.

That was until your cottage came into view. You didn’t know why at first, but when it came into view your blood turned to ice. Your body instinctively stopped, knowing the danger before your brain did. Why were you so scared? Then it hit you. The lights were on inside. You never leave the lights on when you leave your home. Hell, you barely had the lights on when you were home, they were far too bright and you could think of nothing more opposed to your soul than sitting with them on when they didn’t need to be. That's what candles and table lamps were for, not the main light.

So then why the fuck was the main light on? Your body went into defense mode, which..was honestly just the symptoms of a panic attack coming on. Your mouth became a desert, your stomach threatened a violent revolt, and your heart decided to run a marathon. You could feel spiders crawling up your spine, as if they were telling you to walk away. Don't go in there, return to the safety of your shrine. But when you touched your spine, you found nothing there. 

Your entire being was shouting at you to turn around, That that house held something dangerous inside. But you had never been one to listen to your instincts. And you had contraband in there. Journals filled with your day to day activities. Including your worship habits. Confessional after confessional sat on a bookshelf in your living room. How could you have been so foolish? You mentally apologized to your ancestors for being angry at them with burning ancient texts, and ran to your demise. 

You honestly should have been less surprised by what you found. “Oh, Y/n. You're home.” Mahito greeted you, looking up from one of your many journals as you walked into your living room. Your eyes didn’t meet his though. You were more focused on the knife shining in his free hand. That didn’t come from your kitchen. Why did he have it? Mahito was more than annoyed now. He was standing in your home and yet you still had the audacity to ignore him? He closed the book with a soft thud and stood up from your couch, walking over to you.

Suddenly, you were forced to make eye contact with his cold mismatched eyes. He had grabbed you by your cheeks and forced you to look at him, his grip tightening as you struggled to move away. “My my Y/n…look at the mess you’ve gotten yourself into now.” he sighed.

“Let me go!” you demanded. He pulled you closer.

“But I can't do that dollface. You’ve been practicing curse worship! I should report you to the church, you know that right?” he faked a sigh, his voice dripping with pity, but his eyes enjoying your pain a little too much.

“No! You wouldn’t do that! You hate the church as much as I do!” you gasped as he brought the knife to your face.

“No, you’re right. I wouldn’t, and I do. It would be much more efficient to just kill you myself, then show your diaries to the church as a defense.” you hated the fact that he’d get away with your murder by showing the church leaders some bound paper, but..it was still a fact that he would.

“Mahito, please..” you whimpered.

“Please what doll? Make a deal with you?” he asked, pulling your body unwillingly closer to his. He nestled the cool steel of his hunting blade into your cheek, and became all too preoccupied with your chest. “We could do that..but of course, I’m going to want something for my silence..”

Oh, fuck that! If you were going to die anyway, you were gonna die fighting. You Violently shook your head, freeing your face from his grasp and cutting your cheek in the process. You reached up and grabbed his knife by the blade, not even feeling it slice your hand open as you rammed your forehead into his nose. The pain that pulsed through Mahitos skull in electric waves forced him to stumble back.  

“You fucking cunt!” he roared, regaining his balance. But, you were already out the door, running for your life to the woods. When nowhere else was safe, your shrine was.  You could hear Mahito stumbling after you, determined to finish what he started. You began to pray with everything you had that you’d at least survive the night. Not that you needed to. The moment you had felt you were in danger, Sukuna had been hyper aware of you. 

In his current state though? His hands were all but tied. All he could do was will you to his side, and hope the temple would scare him off. He watched as you burst through the temple door, almost knocking it off of its old hinges in your desperation. His outlook on the situation greatly approved as he saw the crimson dripping from you. 

“My lord!” you yelled despite yourself, running to the shrine. 

“Look at you, you pathetic wench! Calling out for a god that doesn't even exist!” Mahito yelled as he entered the temple behind you. You fell onto the table, your bleeding face and hand in the offering altar. “And now, you’re going to die here, screaming for help that won’t come!”

“Sukuna!” you yelled, not entirely sure why. It seemed to work though. While normally there was supposed to be more showmanship and bravado involved with summoning Sukunas corporeal form, he’d make an exception all things considered. The candles in the temple all went out as an ice cold wind blew through the thin walls, and lighting cracked the sky, so violently even Mahito had to pause to take notice.

The very foundation of your small temple began to shake, causing the roof to rain down spackle. You covered your head with your arms, blocking the view. “What the, who the fuck are you!?” you heard Mahito yell in confusion as the smell of pine and iron filled the room,

“I’m the God that doesn’t even exist.” a rough unknown yet familiar voice said. It was like a poisonous honey, sweet with the promise of death. “And you're in my temple. Harassing my high priestess. And I can not let that slide.” No fucking way. You thought to yourself. You opened your eyes to see the back of an impossibly tall, muscular man. He was covered in tattoos, with too pretty to be on him pink hair. Oh, and he had four arms.  Is that?..

“Oh, are you now?” Mahito asked, ever the incredulous one. “Well then, what are you going to do about it?!”

“I’m going to kill you.” Sukuna said, deciding that sugar coating it would be a disservice to both of them. I guess Mahito didn’t see that the man in front of him was seven feet tall, or that he had four arms. Or maybe Mahito forgot this was a Sukuna fic, and he was the villain. We don’t know what went through his head. What we do know is he ran at Sukuna, knife up ready to kill. He didn’t get very far though. Sukuna grabbed him by the throat the moment he was in arms reach.

“You don’t listen very well, do you punk?” Sukuna asked as the small man struggled for air in his hands. “I didn’t expect you to. My priestess has told me all about your refusal to take no for an answer.” Sukuna pulled Mahito close to him, getting a good look at his face. He was far less than impressed. “I don’t like it when others try to play with things that are mine. And you’re notorious for that.”

His claws dug deeper, drawing blood. Sukuna watched as horror filled the blue haired man’s eyes, and it sent a rush of blood straight to his head. He grinned. Gods, he missed this. “Not only that, but after harassing my girl, you come to my temple and disrespect me. I was going to make this quick at first,” no, he wasn't. “But now? I think I’ll take my time.”

You covered your eyes again as your God got to work, not wanting to see his bloody creative process. Mahitos screams were unlike anything you had ever heard before or would ever hear since. The sounds of someone begging for mercy, then for help, then for death is a sound that becomes etched into the human soul. You wanted to feel bad for him, but you couldn’t help but feel like he deserved it. 

It felt like hours before the man had finally fallen silent. In the quiet aftermath, you heard footsteps coming toward you. “Are you hurt?” the man (being? entity?..deity?) from before asked, noticeably less edge in his voice. You felt a heavy hand rest on your shoulder, and you finally opened your eyes. “It’s..it’s really you.” you muttered softly. Sukuna gave a sly grin.

“In the flesh,” he confirmed. You quickly remembered your place under him, and scrambled to your knees to pray. You..should have taken worship waaayyy more seriously than you had. 

“Oh, don’t do that.” Sukuna scoffed. You had been far too casual with him in the past to start doing shit like that now. It felt unnatural. “Look at me Y/n.” he demanded. You were not one to refuse an order when given to you by a god. You looked up at him with giant doe eyes that would have pulled on his heartstrings if he had one. He inspected your cheek, brushing the blood away with his thumb. Disgust filled his blood as he realized someone else had left their mark on his shrine maiden. But, at least they did a shit job of it. It wouldn’t scar.

“Hand” he said, extending his own. You placed your injured hand palm up in his clawed one. He inspected the cut, maybe a little longer than he really needed too. It always fascinated him the way humans bleed and how easily they did so. That liquid crimson gave them life, and yet they were always so quick to lose it. He brought your palm to his surprisingly soft lips, kissing the wound gently. And bringing you to your feet. Your blood tasted sweet to him. He wondered what else tasted sweet.

For the first time you got a good look at the deity you had been worshiping. He looked at you with four maroon eyes, burning into yours. Your heart skipped a beat and you couldn’t help but mentally compare him to a puppy. Ok, well, maybe not a puppy. More like a fighting dog. All of his features held the pain of war, his clenched jaw, his muscular body, the way his very presence demanded and commanded fear, the cold steel he held in his eyes. Even so, beyond all that cold steel and rage, his eyes held a softness you had no way of knowing was reserved for you.    

“Thank you.” you whispered, finally finding your breath. You forced yourself to look away from Sukuna.

“For what?” he asked, though he already knew your answer. 

“For, well..I mean..” you vaguely gestured over to the pile of red goo formerly known as Mahito.

“Killing him?” Sukuna asked, raising a sculpted eyebrow at you.

“Yea..” you gulped, looking over at the massacre, then down. They were gonna need a sponge to get him into his funeral… “You took care of a major problem for me..”

“I know.” It was like you had forgotten all those conversations you had with him. Or you didn’t realize he heard them all, even through the thick barrier of the marble. “Don’t be confused mortal, I didn’t do this just for you. He was a  problem for me too.” you suddenly felt embarrassment explode in your chest.

“O-oh, of course! How silly of me to think that a divine being would sully their hands just for me, I think I must forget myse-”

“Stop that.” Sukuna tsked, shutting you up instantly. “Were you not listening earlier mortal? He was a problem for me because he wanted to possess you. And I don’t like it when entitled fucks try to touch what’s mine.”

Oh. He considered you to be his property. You supposed that checked out. You had dedicated your life to him after all. “I just..I can’t believe you're real.” You muttered despite yourself. That almost offended Sukuna.

“That so? So tell me then, do all humans make a habit of bringing their imaginary friends offerings, or are you just the odd one out here Y/n?”

“Oh, come on, you’re a God! You know that's not what I meant!” you argued, forgetting that it wasn’t your friend you were arguing with, but a literal god of death, destruction, ruin and war. Someone that could tear you asunder with just a flick of their wrist. “I ment like…I can’t believe you're here and well…real! In the flesh! Something corporeal that I can touch and not just a distant entity..”

Sukuna was smirking at your little outburst. This is how he loved you. When you forgot where you stood before him. “I assure you darling, I’m real.” he promised, amusement leaking into his voice.

“But you shouldn’t be.” You reminded him, “So, It’s hard to believe..” your body froze as you realized Sukuna was walking closer to you. He stood mere centimeters away from you. You felt suddenly overwhelmed with his presence, he was suffocating, filling your senses with nothing but him. A divine sense of warmth and a blood chilling sense of dread and danger. He leaned down, his face so close you could feel his hot breath wash over you.

“Do you want me to prove to you just how real I am?” he asked. Your brain couldn't register the question. You were too focused on mentally tracing the lines on his face.

“I-I..” you mutter, looking for words other than may I please see your cock my lord, I want to see if it’s tattooed as well.

“I-I-I,” Sukunas mocking forced you back into focus, “What’s wrong pet? Deity got your tongue? What happened to all that tough talk from earlier?” Sukuna cooed mockingly.

“Would it be sacrilegious if I touched you, my Lord?..” you muttered softly, your mouth spitting out words your brain gave it no permission too. Sukuna grinned, your words going straight to his dick. 

“Oh, most definitely.” He promised, closing the gap between you two. His hands found your hips, rubbing circles into them with his thumbs as he pulled you closer to him. His touch sent static to your core. “I'm no fertility God, fucking isn’t typically allowed in my temple.” fucking. He said it as an insult. “In fact, the very act of you lusting for me like this is considered sacrilegious.”

You felt dirty. You should have known better. Fantasizing about a supreme being in their own temple, how shameless were you? Not to mention self absorbed, thinking a God would be intimate with a lowly mortal like you. You suddenly become hyper aware of his every touch.

“But, I’ll make an exception for my favorite shrine maiden.” he purred into your ear, his head dipping down to kiss your neck, one of his unoccupied hands coming up to move your head to give him more room to work with. If his touch was static, then his kiss was pure lighting. Any thoughts that you shouldn’t be doing this melted from your mind as you relaxed into his arms. A soft purr escaped your lips, bringing a grin to his face.

His last free hand moved in between the two of you, finding the waistband of your skirt. A small gasp left your mouth as he slipped his clawed hand under it, using said claw to cut a slit in your underwear right where your folds are. You felt your heart race with anxiety and excitement as he ran his long fingers along your slit. 

“So needy, aren't you pet?” he groaned softly. “I’ve barely even touched you and you're already dripping for me. So cute.” He mocked, his finger brushing against your nub. You whimpered softly, trying to move your hips for more friction, but his hands held you still. Curse him for having four arms, and curse your monsterfucking heart for being so into it.

“All for you..” you muttered softly, “Please...I-I need your touch my Lord..” Embarrassment burned you as you spoke. “I beg..” Your words went straight to Sukunas already hardening cock. The way you whined for him, like a desperate sinner begging for forgiveness. As if his touch and his touch alone could save you from damnation, when in reality, it was your one way ticket to hell. 

Sukuna moved your head so he could get a better look at your still bleeding cheek, licking the blood away as he finally began to massage your swollen clit. Ecstasy pulsed through you as you moaned out your god's name. “You like that, don't you Heathen?” Sukuna taunted you, adjusting to slip his finger inside you, rubbing his thumb against your nub. You nodded dumbly, focusing on how he seemingly instantly found your G spot. “It’s so good..” you muttered.

Sukuna held back a laugh. Of course it was good. He knew your body better than any mortal man ever would, before he even touched you. He slipped another digit into your weeping pussy, forcing a moan from you. “Look at me Y/n.” He demanded. You forced your eyes open, unsure when you even closed them. You stared into his molten crimson eyes, an intensity drilling into your soul that forced you into submission. 

Sukuna licked his lips as he stared into your tear pricked eyes, watching you desperately try to keep it together while he pumped his fingers into you. You looked even better than he ever could have imagined. And you we’re only going to look prettier the more fucked out you got. He caught your lips in a kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth before you could even register what was happening. 

You moaned softly into his kiss, losing yourself in him. He was all consuming. His lips were soft and plump, his fingers moved with expert skill, between the electric storm forcing your toes to curl and the fiery passion that filled your head with smoke, you forgot everything that wasn’t Sukuna. You could feel a knot forming in your stomach, threatening to break. His thumb focused on your clit, switching from lazy half circles to massaging with precision and purpose. A moan ripped out of your lungs and you felt your breathing become more labored. 

“Sukuna, I-I’m,”

“I know you are.” Sukuna growled, focused on bringing you over the edge. He could feel the way your walls clenched around him, the way you gushed around his claws. The sound was obscene. “Cum for me darling,” he ordered, his mouth latching onto your neck to leave evidence of his ownership there.

It was as if your body didn’t know how not to follow the deity's command. The knot inside you snapped, waves of pleasure crashing into you and pulling you under as your cunt convulsed around his fingers. His name ripped its way out of your lungs as ecstasy shot through you, your vision turning white hot. Sukuna finger fucked you through your high, feeling his dick ache for you as he watched your blissed out face contour with pleasure.

“That's it slut,” he purred, “Cum all over your god.” you whimpered as your body finally relented, letting you look up at him. You’d never cum that hard on your life. Was this what it was like to be intimate with divinity? He removed his fingers from your dripping pussy and sucked them clean, humming in satisfaction. “You taste just as good as I thought you would.” he praised. 

“Thank you my lord..” You muttered, unsure what else to do here. 

“Oh, I’m not done with you yet, Pet.” Sukuna laughed. “I've waited for centuries to be summoned into my physical form, and I’ve waited far too long to fuck you to let you tap out now.” He chuckled darkly. He should be more embarrassed, frankly, That he was a God, a being of pure divinity and holy spite, that was desperately lusting for a human. But he was also the last of his kind. Who the hell was there for him to be embarrassed for? “On your knees, slut.” He growled.

You feel to your knees without having to even think about it. It was honestly your natural position in this holy temple. Sukuna looked down at you, on your knees, your head bowed before him, as if in the middle of prayer. It made his already impossibly hard cock twitch, desperate to sully you even further. It was times like these Sukuna wondered if he was really a god or just a demon parading around like one. 

Doesn't matter. He rid himself of his robe, finally freeing his straining cock. “Look up.” He commanded you. You did so, your eyes filling with shock as you came face to face with the cock that was going to ruin you. Your innocent eyes widened as you forced yourself to look away from his dick and make eye contact with the devilish deity. He looked down at you with dark eyes.

“Don’t be so frightened. You can handle this.” He assured you, grabbing the back of your head and urging you to take him in. you licked your lips and wrapped your mouth around him, determined to please your god. Sukuna had a pretty cock, long and far thicker than you would have expected. And yes by the way, it was tattooed, just like the rest of his body. You sucked on his leaking pink tip, your hands moving to massage the prominent vein on his shaft. You moved to take as much of him in your mouth as possible, your hand handling (ha) everything that wouldn't fit. 

Sukuna tangled his clawed hands into your hair, his hips rutting into your mouth and hitting the back of your throat. You gagged around him, pulling a satisfied moan from Sukunas lips. You could feel the intensity of his eyes drilling down into you. You imagined this is what a bunny felt like when spotted by a wolf. You willed your eyes to look up at him, and felt ice run down your spine and straight to your soaking cunt. All four of his eyes were blown to hell with lust, a burning need to touch you in ways no mortal ever had before. If he had it his way, you’d be addicted to ‘worship’ before the night was over.

“That's right pet, just like that.” he praised you, before very abruptly slamming his entire length into you, forcing you to gag around him. “Your mouth feels so good princess,” He cooed, looking down as tears began to stream from your face. You’d think that may have slowed him down, but in reality it had the very opposite effect. Sukuna had never seen anything sexier. It set an explosion off in his blood and mind. He was suddenly done playing.

He pulled you off his cock, groaning at the sight. You looked up at him with a tear stained face, confusion in your red eyes, a string of spit connecting your puffy lips to his cock. He wanted to paint a picture of the scene and hang it in a museum. Wanted to frame the work of art and hang it in every temple that had ever been dedicated to him. He pulled you off the floor and into his arms, carrying you to the sturdiest wall his temple had left.

“M-my lord?..” you asked weakly. His touch burned your body in all the most exquisite ways. The feeling of being touched and desired by that was untouchable was forever engraved into your mortal flesh. He pushed you up against the wall, two arms holding you up and two arms ripping off your blouse. “M-my lord,” you tried again, “Should we really-”

You were cut off by an absolutely sinful moan ripping from your throat as Sukuna's mouth wrapped around your hardening nipple. His now free hands we’re bunching your skirt around your hips, finishing the job from earlier and ripping your panties in 2. Anxiety and excitement exploded in your chest as you felt the tip of his cock glide along your folds. Two hands continued to hold you up, one finding your exposed breast and massaging it while the final hand intertwined itself with your injured palm. Salt from sweat filled your open wound, stinging it and spilling blood into his own hand.

“Beg for me Princess.” He demanded, teasing your entrance with the head of his dick.

“Please! Please fuck me Sukuna!” you panted out, trying to grind your hips down onto him, desperate for any friction. A desire unlike any you had ever known overtook you. “Please! Fuck me, I need it. Leave your mark on me, fill me, do whatever you want to me, but please I need your cock inside me.”

Sukuna would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little taken aback by just how vulgar his little shrine maiden could get. He’d also be lying if he said he wasn’t beyond into it. “Look at me.” He demanded, holding your gaze as he finally lowered you onto his throbbing cock, pulling you down to his hilt. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he split you open in the most delicious way. Your head back as you savored the burn he sent through you. 

“You’re so fucking tight.” Sukuna groaned, burying his face into the crook of your neck as he lost himself in your warm velvety walls. He would have cum right then and there if he was any closer to mortality than he already was. “I’m going to mold this cunt to my cock.” He said, pulling back just to slam you right back down onto him. He set a ruthless pace, slow yet hard. He wanted to take every moment of you that he could. You moaned out his name as a broken prayer, dragging your nails down his back to try and ground yourself in reality. Nothing was real about this.

“‘So good…” you moaned, unable to form words.

“I know.” He chuckled darkly, quickly deciding his favorite version of you was the fucked out one. “What kind of god would I be if I couldn't please my priestess?” he hummed, littering marks wherever he could on your neck. He squeezed your thighs tight enough to leave bruises, and made sure to brush your g spot with every stroke of his cock. An unholy symphony of your sounds filled the once holy temple.

You could feel your skin heating up as electricity coursed through your blood. You lost sight of everything that wasn’t the divine cock punishing your pussy for every sin you had ever committed. You tangled your free hand into his hair. Trying and failing to catch your breath as a now familiar knot formed inside your abdomen. 

“Fuck, Y/n,” Sukuna moaned, catching your lips with his. “You’re taking me so well, it’s almost like this cunt was made for me. What do you think Pet?” He asked with a particularly hard thrust to your cervix. You nodded without thinking.

“Yes! Yes, lord, yes!” you moaned breathlessly. Sukuna grinned, looking down at you through half lidded eyes.

“I was hoping you’d agree.” he moaned, his hand slitting itself in between the two of you and rubbing calculated circles into your clit. You screamed out his name at the added stimulation, so close to the edge it hurt. 

“Oh God, I- fuck..” You spoke through broken moans.

“Look at you, calling for me like a whore when I'm right here.” Sukuna mocked, “Still doubting if Im real or not?” if you could have formed a thought, you would have said ‘no my lord, not any more.’ but at that moment, your brain only had one thought.

“I’m gonna cum! Gonna cum, please, let me cum-” you begged for him.

“Cum for me darling.” He moaned, basking in the way you came undone around him. The way your pussy squeezed him was divine, your legs locking him in place as he rocked into you, helping you ride out your right. He was lost in the way you felt, your pleasure the greatest offering he’d been given. Euphoria and ecstasy washed over you in intense waves, so much so you thought you might suffocate. It was overwhelming in all the best ways. 

Sukuna felt you gushing around him and couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He came undone, spilling his divinity into you in white hot spurts. Your fluids mixing together as Sukuna fucked his holy seed back inside you, riding out both of your highs.

You went limp in his arms, his head rested on your shoulder as you both struggled to catch your breath. “My god..” you muttered softly.

“Yes?” Sukuna asked with a light chuckle. You softly hit his shoulder, as if that was going to do anything. He pulled out of you, letting the warm fluids drip down your legs. He adjusted your position in his arms. Holding you bridal style as he walked you over to his altar, arguably the most comfortable place in his table. He laid you down as if you were an offering to him, holy and sacred in your own right. 

He chuckled when he saw you reach out for him. He was going to ignore you, but cuddled up beside you on the table despite himself. He couldn’t get enough of your mortal warmth.  It was comfortable having you in his arms. He could get used to this. How bad could fucking your last devotee be anyway? He liked this.

“The townspeople are going to surely ask about Mahito.” you muttered. You had to ruin it, didn’t you?

“Don’t worry about them darling.” Sukuna muttered, pulling you closer to him in hopes of lulling you to sleep. 

“How can I not, my lord?” you asked with those innocent eyes Sukuna was growing to love and loath.

“Because in the morning I’m going to burn your village to the ground with everyone in it.” Sukuna didn’t mince words. You were his follower, you knew what he was about.

“Oh, I see.” you nodded, not bothering to talk him out of it. You didn’t want to talk him out of it.

“Yes. so get some sleep Darling. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.” he said, pulling you into his chest, keeping you more than warm while you slept.

[rush-the-stars]

RUIN

minors and ageless blogs dni, 18+ only.

pairing: suguru getou x afab!reader

summary: after your family has fallen out of grace in the sorcerer world and you lose everything, it is decided by the higher-ups that you'll marry someone worthy for you; suguru getou. a troublesome sorcerer with no prominent family lineage, sway, or power in your world. it is a punishment, a laughing stock, and a badge of disgrace.

| arranged marriage au. mostly smut. a little angst or comfort if you squint. |

word count: 5.7k....this is a drabble to me ://

tw: smut, loss of virginity, dub-conish, one slap from the reader to getou and he kinda likes it, strange and unhealthy dynamics, getou has a corruption kink, slight blood? overstimulation. let me know if i missed anything!

author's note: first time posting writing on this blog!! this has been plaguing me!! this was supposed to be a little drabble!! and here i am!! anyways…this could be and i have thoughts on it being a whole fic. it could potentially take place somewhere before volume 0 and after he’s graduated from jujutsu tech. maybe. i didn’t think hard enough ab it so you shouldn’t either. is this out of character? likely!! enjoy!! let me know what you think!!

The night of your wedding to Suguru Getou, you are filled with ire and contempt.

The crescent moon is a sickle arch in the sky to look down on you, the curve of it as sharp as a mean smile, as a hooked knife. You glare hard at it through the window, hold tight to the silk robe you had been ushered into after the ceremony. All pearly on your skin and loose, shiny, smooth to the touch. Wrapped like a present for you new husband.

You grit your teeth.

("So proud for such a disgraced girl," Suguru tsks, your chin in his hand, forcing you to look up into the darkness of his eyes. You look up your nose at him defiantly. His thumb moves to your bottom lip, swipes there boldly, in a way that makes heat race over your face. It flusters you terribly. It makes you furious. It makes you shake.

You jerk your head from his grasp and he allows his hand to fall away, flutter down by his side.

"And so stubborn."

You sneer at him, gripping your skirts to hide your tremble, "what were you expecting? For me to simper and posture for you?"

His eyes dance bemusedly over you, the corner of his lips quirking up in the most horrible way. You have half a mind to strike him with nails and palm and bitterness, swipe the look right off his face.

"I'd hoped for someone a little sweeter, I suppose." He tells you and for some reason, this stings worse than it should, makes your anger grow teeth and claws inside of you.

"A good wife." You spit.

"Yes," he admits, "something that is finally mine. Only mine."

Later, he will tell you he always wanted something Satoru Gojo couldn't have but wanted. He wanted something everyone wanted. Instead, he got you. Instead, you got him.

"I will never be yours." You hiss through your teeth like a little asp. A warning sound, the way a dog growls before it bites.

"You'll be married to me whether you like it or not. Whether I like it or not." He says coolly, gazing down at you in a way that you can't place, in a way that makes you shiver.

"I may marry you, but I will never be yours–"

And when you catch the gleam in his eyes now, plum dark and glimmering, you know he took it less as a warning, and more of a challenge.)

You steel your courage. You breathe through your nose.

You untie your robe and let it slip from your shoulders.

It pools on the floor in a decadent swath of fabric. It looks like a swan, like a dead dove at your feet.

When you turn to look at Suguru over your shoulder, you are at least pleased to see that he is mildly surprised, brows arched upwards slightly, mouth parted.

He recovers quickly, "my, isn't this a surprise–"

"Don't." You snap. Your bottom lip trembles and you sink your teeth down into it to stop it. When you don't fear what your voice will sound like, you say defiantly;

"Do what you want. I'm not scared of you."

And you jerk your chin up again, too proud, too stubborn. Even when you are bare, even when your defenses have been stripped from you, even when his eyes are lightless, bottomless like the sea, infinite like the night sky as he gazes at you.

He approaches slowly, almost lazily, a predator that lopes closer to his prey. The breeze from the window makes you shiver.

"Look whose being brave," he coos, reaching out with his knuckles to touch your cheek, a brush of his skin. It's the first touch he gives you of the night.

He savors it. You try to hold still.

"Are you sure?" He asks and there is something unreadable in his face now, something monstrous at the edges, the flicker of it, of that hunger–a maw, opening wide in front of you to swallow you down like his curses, "I was going to let you have tonight."

"How merciful," you say, all heat and viciousness, all teeth. You jut your chin up, glare up into his face and say, "it doesn't matter. Like I told you; I will never be yours in any meaningful way."

The touch at your cheek becomes bigger, a palm that slides to the nape of your neck, fingers slipping into your hair. He holds you in a way that makes you feel the control, so you can feel the strength of his broad hand. The power in it. Horribly, it makes you feel small, too, to be cupped in his hands like that, to be guided.

His smile is lazy, almost aloof, like the sickle curved moon, but the burning of his eyes tells you differently. All violet heat, like the night sky swathed around that moon.

Tenderly, he promises, "I will strip you of your pride tonight. It will be the first thing you have to put down if you want anything good from me."

"I'll make you bleed," you promise back.

He laughs, low and soft and heated, before he says, "I'll tame you someday."

And he sways forward, lets his nose brush along yours, tilts your head up at the neck so your lips are offered to him like sacrifice, like a lamb.

"I'll kill you someday." You vow, just a whisper that brushes against his lips.

You can feel his smile when he kisses you, deep and slow and horribly burning. Leisurely, he forces you open, rolls his tongue into your mouth, forces you still, forces you to like it.

You feel your hands come up to tighten in his clothes, ruining them. You feel yourself go slack in his hold. You feel yourself warm to his touch, to his mouth, to his tongue.

For a fleeting moment, you wonder if he's trying to devour you, too, if he also thinks of you as his curse.

He bands an arm around your waist, forces you to press your bare body to his clothed one, fits his big hand along the curved cage of your ribs. And you feel–

You twist in his arms when you feel how hard he is, when it makes your stomach flip and then frightens you, when it makes heat swim up your chest and neck.

He can feel your shyness, moves his arm down to the dip of your waist to force your squirming still. He makes you feel him.

You part from his kiss, panting a little, pushing against him fitfully. He tightens like a snake around you, until you go still for him again.

"Undress me," he murmurs.

You swallow hard.

But with shaking fingers, you move to begin stripping him of his layers. Tanned, bare skin is revealed to you; silvery scars race and arc over his chest, along his shoulders and biceps. His stomach is toned, dark hair running down, further into–

You look away stubbornly when you get to his lower half. Your hands work blindly, until he says, "ah, ah, ah–" and he grabs your chin, makes you look at his face, makes you look down at your little hands near his stomach, near his hips– "Don't look away."

You swallow hard. You glare at your hands, heat rising swift and harsh to your chest, up your neck, to your cheeks. His clothes come away beneath your hands, leaving him bare, too.

You fight the urge to look away again.

"Touch me," he murmurs, watching your face, and you don't–you don't know why you listen. But as if possessed, you obey him.

He's hot to the touch, heavy in your hand, and you realize you can hardly breathe.

His intake of breath is sharp, coupled with your forced little exhale. You glare up into his face, jaw set tight with ire, face on fire. Embarrassed. Angry.

"Oh, if looks could kill." He hums, pressing his hips up into your hand. Uncertain but trying, you stroke slowly, carefully, get used to the feeling in your hand. "Such contempt on your face right now, wife."

"Enjoy it while it lasts," you try to snap, but your voice has gone thinner. You've lost some of your bite.

He laughs when he kisses you, meaner this time, teeth in your tender lip, his brutality like a slow ambling leopard. It's still leisurely, intimate in a way that is frightening, in a way that makes you feel like he's got you between his jaws.

He starts walking you back to the bed, crowding you, guiding you. And not for the first time, but certainly the most concerning time, do you realize how big and broad he is. Blindly, you let him urge you back. You let him lay down first, you let him take your hand, you let him–

"You want me–" on top? Your voice has a tremble in it.

"Scared?" He asks, tugging your hand, tugging you onto the bed. Over him. Holding your hand in his, laced fingers, palm to open palm.

"No, I just thought you'd want to–" You don't finish the sentence as you ease into straddling his waist, keeping up on your knees, away from him.

"Want to what? Say it."

You can feel your embarrassment come back up to strangle you.

"In what ways did you think I'd want you? Underneath me? Belly up and vulnerable? On your stomach with your back arched? On your side?" He asks and his voice is low, soft to your ears, but dark. One large hand of his grips your waist, fits itself around the curve, and forces you forward. You stumble a little, catch yourself on his chest.

"How did you think of this night? What way did you hope for?"

"None of them." You snap. "I don't want you."

"Liar." He says back, and he moves so his palm is on your lower abdomen, thumb moving dangerously close to the apex of your thighs, "if I touch you here, what will I find?"

You jerk away from his touch as if burned.

He readjusts his hold on your waist to force you still again as if dealing with an unruly child. This time, when his thumb swipes between your legs, it is through silken folds, slippery and gentle.

You strangle the moan that dares to bubble up, stifle it with an even smaller noise. He is so embarrassingly slow and careful with you, almost loving with the way he strokes, that you want to hide. You want to cling to him. You want to kill him.

"Ah, see? That's what I thought–" Suguru's thumb dips barley inside, and even that, just one finger, is bigger than what you're used to. His whole hand spans wide across your body. "–so wet for me."

You look away, attempting to bare it, teeth firmly stuck in your bottom lip. He never breaches you. Just strokes, slow and soft, painfully good and sweet, enough to make your hips cant a little. He doesn't say a word now, just listens to you breathe, to the small, slick sound between your legs.

It's so–

"I won't prep you more than that." He finally says and you feel your heart rabbit hard in the pit of your chest, like it might take off and run away from you. You look at his face. He must see your fear. "Unless you'd beg for my fingers inside you. Unless you'll beg me to be kind."

As if to emphasize, his thumb pauses, just outside, barely inside.

You can't bring yourself to ask for it. You won't beg. Even if you're shaking in his hold, even if you want to drop your hips a little, squirm until his thumb slips inside.

"Do what you want." You say again, stubborn and furious.

Suguru sighs lightly the way adults do with children. Have it your way, he seems to say, before he takes his hand away entirely. You watch as he fists himself, as he strokes himself easily. And then he's there, at the crux of your legs, and you panic a little because he's big and you remember the weight in your hand and–

"Wait–"

He forces you down onto him with one large hand gripping your waist. Your nails sink into his shoulders, body bowing forward as pain spasms through you, in you. You hiccup a breath, strangled, tears pricking your eyes sharply.

His mouth falls open, brows drawing together in mock sympathy for you. "Oh, you should've swallowed your pride, wife."

You whimper. He hisses.

"Maybe there is something you're useful for," he breathes, fingers flexing in your waist, moving to your back and then lower to grab and ease you up, ease you back down. You can feel him now, through the pain, deep and heavy inside of you. It's so raw, so strange and vulnerable, that you can't help the sudden swell of emotions.

Searing anger. Shameful arousal. Lingering fear. They all blend and blur.

He curses softly against your temple, "–knew, if nothing else, that you'd be good for this–"

Bastard.

You strike him with an open palm.

It cracks against his cheek, whips his face to the side. His cheek blossoms all hot and pink with it instantly. Satisfaction sinks into you. You feel him twitch inside you, feel your stomach flip with the look on his face.

He laughs, seizes you in a kiss, forces you down deeper onto him, "–knew you'd be perfect. Knew for how wretched you were that you'd be perfect for me." He says against your open mouth.

He lifts you, drops you onto him even slower, not to mitigate the pain by suspend it. You can tell he's being cruel, grinding you down onto him, trying to etch the feeling of him like this inside you forever.

You can't even speak and you force any noise that might come out of you down, down into the depths of you. You can feel your walls cling to him, latched tight, fluttering desperately. You can feel the way he burrows himself so deep inside you that you might be sick with him. You try so hard to breathe, to bear it, to take it. But it's too much–it's too much–

A small sob finally bursts out of you, shameful and tender.

"Wrap your arms around me." He commands, soft, almost a coo.

You don't know what to do but obey, wrap your arms tight around his neck, chest to chest, press yourself as close and desperately to him as you can. You tuck your heated, angry face into the crook of his neck, tears finally rushing hot and quick down your cheeks.

"I hate you," you cry into his skin, mouthing there, teething there. He controls you as you go limp in his arms, lifting and dropping your hips onto him like you weigh nothing. "I hate you."

"I know," he hushes, consoling you, one hand soothing over your back, "I know."

He tries to pull away fractionally, just to look at you, but you whine and cling harder, nails digging into the skin of his back.

"Look at me, darling," he says again and tentatively, you peak at him through your angry tears, brows furrowed, glare firmly marring your sweet face. He looks at you through half-lidded eyes, burning into you, and says;

"I will be the only person to hurt you like this. I will be the only person to soothe you like this."

It's a command. It's a vow.

You let your hand slip into his long, dark hair, tangle in it until it's a small fist. You pull to tilt his head back up to you, move your hips on your own finally, rock them tentatively, a small, aborted motion. And then you say, through your tears, through your anger and shame;

"And I'll be the only one you ever want like this. The only one you can't have fully."

"I have you now." He rasps, a little enamored, a little slack jawed.

You shake your head fractionally, lip curled, maybe in pain, in anger, "I don't love you. I won't ever love you."

You can tell this does something to him, hurts him in a way that he isn't prepared for. You aren't prepared for it, either, the look on his face. The way he kisses you after that, like he's trying to win you over, like he's trying to soothe you, just like he said he would.

"I don't need your love," he murmurs, spit-slick against your lips. Your hips stutter a little.

"Liar," you echo him and it's your turn to smile a little against his lips, the curve of it mean, your eyes still glossy with tears as the next roll of your hips becomes more sure.

You finally let out a little moan and he hums, "there, that's it, starting to feel better?"

And then, "maybe. Maybe this is all you're good for–"

A moan punches out of him.

He thrusts up into you this time, hard, a little spiteful. You yelp, tears stinging, and he kisses you as if to half-heartedly apologize.

You curl around him again, though, and he doesn't even need to guide your hips anymore. It still aches, in the core of you, throbs in pain, but it's beginning to feel syrupy and warm, the feeling of fullness becoming familiar. Almost welcome. A burning type of pleasure that you start to ease into.

You bite into his throat. You tell him how terrible he is, you dig your nails into his back, you warn him not to get used to this.

He kisses you hard and slow. He tries to own you. He let's you ride him, take from him, give to him. He draws his tongue over his teeth marks in your skin.

He builds you up, finally touches your breasts, your body, his hands feverish and scorching over you. He finally gives in to what he wants, gives in to your pleasure, lets you roll your hips in a way that has you crying out–in pain, in pleasure, in some horrible combination of both.

You can feel it all build in you, feel it all balloon beneath your skin, hot and too big for your own body. Too much. You need more, need just a little more–

You get just shy of begging, but don't, bite your tongue until it bleeds, let him lick into your mouth and taste it.

"So stubborn," he grunts against your throat, "I know you like this. I know what you want from me." And then, "is it everything you thought of? Or should I fuck you on your back? Press you down into the bed and–"

"You're vile," you moan brokenly, half cry, "you wish."

And when he forces you down into his lap, digs his face into the crook of your neck, into your hair, and comes deep inside you, you think it might be over. He groans into your skin, grips you so tight you're certain you'll bruise.

Whatever pleasure that had been growing inside of you comes to a frustrating halt. Your hips twitch, unsatisfied, seeking.

You can't decide if you're disappointed or relieved. You hold him against your chest, hands in his hair, body shivering. He holds you back, let's you squirm a little, let's you get used to the feeling of him filling you like this.

You try to move first but he tightens his hold on you and once more you are reminded of a snake constricting it's prey into stillness. You go limp again and that seems to appease him. He lays you back, into the bed. Into your wedding bed.

He pulls out of you slowly, gently this time, and it still makes you whine in pain. It still makes you wince. You're going to be so sore tomorrow–

At this point, you expect him to roll over and go to sleep.

But he kisses you tenderly, open-mouthed, tongue soft and pressing into yours. Seeking. Heat rekindles. He teases, drowns you in his lazy sort of affection; like he has forever to please you, like it is all he was meant for.

And then his lips cascade downwards, with his tongue trailing over your chest, and right over the bud of your breast to catch it in his mouth. So warm and soft, enough to make you arch a little, enough to make your hands come back up into his hair. You bite your lip but your hips twitch.

Dissatisfaction builds in you, squirms under your skin. It makes you become fitful in his arms, beneath the attentive warmth of his mouth. He moans a little around your breast when you pull on his hair. He rolls his eyes up to you lazily, half-lidded, almost asleep.

He is strangely content now, for all his unnerving, crackling energy. That restlessness that seems to live deep inside of him is soothed for the moment, with you beneath him, in his mouth.

His lips travel lower, over your stomach. You know it's a mess, can't imagine why he would ever–

"Suguru," you say and the fear in your voice is palpable. He pays you no mind, "Suguru–"

When his mouth opens against your core, warm and soft and wet, you aren't expecting it. You jolt a little but he's got his arms around your thighs, forces you open.

"Hold still for me, darling." And the lull of his voice does something to you, coaxes you to relax in his hold again. He hums lightly, "that's my girl. Going to let me enjoy you now? Suddenly quiet, aren't we?" he muses.

You glare down at him but it's lost a lot of the heat of your anger. Still, you say stubbornly, "just do what you want."

His lips quirk up and you feel it, feel it against your core when he drops a brief open-mouthed kiss there. A noise works out of you, small and desperate and unable to be kept down.

He tongues at you slowly, through soft ribbons of flesh, gentle and sweet. Adoring. He looks up at you with plum dark eyes, lashes fanning over his cheek.

He does what he should've done first.

You realize dully, faintly, through the haze of your mind, that he's done it purposefully. He wanted it to hurt. He wanted to soothe you after.

And you are sore, aching horribly, but his mouth is so warm and soft, so eager and strange as it moves against you.

“I’ll make you feel better now,” he murmurs, “I’ll chase away the pain.”

He licks long and flat stripes up and down, making a mess, making you burn. Making you love it. Making you hate it.

You twist a little in his hold, start to get desperate for it. You fist your hands in his long hair, twine them around your fingers to pull, to feel the rumbling purr of his moan against you.

You try to resist maybe, at first, the peak he's bringing you to. The pleasure he's giving you. But then it sneaks up on you and suddenly your breathing hitches all tight.

And he stops.

You look down at him. His mouth is on your inner thigh. His eyes flick up to you. He watches you keenly, like a cat, and waits.

He bites into the flesh of your thigh, sucks a love bite into it. Leaves the marks of his teeth in your skin. And when your breathing has slowed enough, he moves his mouth back to your center.

His tongue lolls out again, sliver of pink muscle darting out to taste you again. You whimper. You throw your head back. You give in to this one easily. He works harder, gets a little rougher, tongue moving quicker.

But then he's gone again, when you're about to fall over that edge. This time, you sit up onto your elbows to look at him. He quirks a brow at you, mouth all over your thigh again.

"Something wrong?" He asks, dropping a messy kiss to your core.

"Suguru, stop it–"

"Stop what? You said do as I please and I am."

He opens his mouth against your center again, scorching hot, dirty in a way that makes you keen sharp and high. You tilt your hips up into his mouth this time, offer yourself willingly, open yourself to him. His tongue delves inside, squirms and pushes and slides through you. It's almost gross– too vulnerable, too close, and makes your eyes slam shut.

He muffles a soft laugh, you can feel it against you, can feel the flush of your embarrassment and annoyance.

He pulls away. This time your glare is pointed. Sharper.

"Say what you want." Suguru says. "And I'll give it to you."

You stare hard at him, chest heaving, face overcome with heat. Your pleasure ebbs away, held back.

He does it again. Mouth on you. Thumb holding you open, dipping inside barely again. He pulls away when you move at all, when you allow yourself to give in.

You come down again. You get built up again. Until he finally presses his thumb inside, makes his tongue roll slow and tender against you.

His name comes out, desperate, almost pleading–

He stops.

And this time, frustrated tears rush back to your eyes.

"Stop it," you try to snap, but its wet and soft sounding, a little cry.

"Poor thing," he coos, "but you know what you have to do."

"I hate you."

He smiles like the cat that has got the canary between his sharp, sharp teeth.

"C'mon, it's not so bad–"

You grit your teeth. You try to breathe. He tongues at you again, slow and soft and teasing.

"Just let it go, let go of your pride and ask me. I'll indulge you. I'll give it to you." He opens his mouth against you again, adds pressure, adds suction, adds a finger inside you again. You twist, desperate, so close it hurts.

He draws off you again.

"Let go of your pride and I'll give you everything." He murmurs.

And again he builds you up and again you refuse to give in. Again and again until you're outright crying, until you're heaving with it, until you're just a live-wire, an aching, open wound.

And again he does it, adjusts so he sits up with you, so you're near bent in half, so he can look down at you now. It's so horrible, it's so embarrassing–

One more. He knows it, can feel it, hear it in your little hitching sobs.

And then finally, finally;

"Suguru, please–please, I'm sorry, I-I'm sorry–"

It hits you so hard that all you can manage is a strangled gasp. Your peak is a head rush, a full body surge, a wave that goes still for a moment before crashing hard and fast. You cry openly, twist in his hold, let him lay you back down, let him guide you through it. You pulse and burst on his tongue, throbbing, aching in a way you've never felt before.

"Good girl," he rumbles, and it's so–it's so proud. It's so condescending. You want to be mad. You want to push him away and scratch and kick and bite, but when he holds you, you just cry. And cry. And he kisses you hard on the mouth again so you can taste yourself. He says it again while you're still mindless, "good girl. That's it–that's my girl. My good little wife."

"You're the worst," you get out, even as you let him bundle you into his arms.

"I know–I know." He hushes. "And I'll be worse still."

When you feel his fingers prod gently at your entrance, you start fighting him a little, "no–no, I'm done–I can't–"

"Yes, you can." He hums, "because I said so. Because I want you to."

His fingers slip in gently, so big, bigger than your own. Two feel like such a stretch and all he does is move them slow and crooked. You whimper, tears leaking out, cascading down your cheeks.

And he makes you come like that, too. And again on his mouth. The next all he does is fit his thigh between your legs, while he kisses you slow. Humiliates you. Strips you of all your dignity. For the last time, he lines himself back up, let's his length slip through your folds a few times. He watches himself against you, admires how deep he must reach in you, how wet you are for him.

You're so swollen. So sore and tired. You barely realize it at first. And then you feel the head of him catch and you stir, "wait–no, no–please, I can't–!" You hiccup.

He fills you in one smooth thrust. Makes you claw down into his back until you're sure you've drawn blood. You wail a little, embarrassingly, into his throat. You claw and fuss and fight him this time, renewed a little, feeling him root down inside of you.

He kisses at your tears, tastes them, "Look at you–" he husks, "crying like this for me. Look at the mess I've made out of you. Not so proud now, are we?"

He kisses your palm that tries to push his face away.

He bites your tender lip. He takes your hands in his own and laces his finger between yours to force them down onto the bed. He quells your fight. He ruts into you deep and hard.

He does that until you come again, so brutally around him that all you can do is tremble in his arms, that you feel as if you've fractured apart into little pieces. Your walls get so tight that he can't help himself, starts to babble a little, thrusts growing reckless;

"I'm never letting you go–you'll be mine if it's the last thing I do. I'm going to covet you. I'm going to ruin you, I'm going to fucking ruin you–"

You bite his shoulder so viciously that you start to taste blood.

He grabs your jaw, he squeezes until it hurts. He squeezes until you release.

"I'm the only thing you have now." He growls, thrusts turning mean, ruthless. Desperate. "I'll be the only thing you'll ever have now."

You glare through your tears, and get out his name, and then you croak, "I've already ruined you–look at you. Look at you."

A few more artless thrusts and he comes with a broken groan, raw, against your jumping pulse. You feel him fill you again, deep, and warm. Strangely soothing after everything, after all of it. You go slack for a moment as you heave, as you feel him breathe against your chest.

And this time he is done. This time, he holds you, even when you try to weakly push him away.

"Stop fussing," he scolds softly, stroking slow over your sides, petting you, soothing you. You feel so boneless that you listen, settle down into the bed, into his touch, into his weight still atop you.

He's weakened you to him, stripped you down so you're limp and exhausted, and in need of care. His care.

He bathes you. And before that, he makes you wrap your arms around him to carry you to the bathroom. He doesn't carry you like a bride but with your arms around his neck, with your legs around his waist, wants you to nose into his throat, to be pressed fully to him. He doesn't allow you something so dignified as being carried like a bride.

And he doesn't allow you privacy, either, not to use the bathroom or to clean yourself. He does it for you. You think about asking him to leave you. You think about begging him. You swallow it down and can't decide if it's pride now that holds your tongue or something else. If it's worse to beg now or if it's worse to be cared for like this. You can't decide if it's more embarrassing to ask him to leave or to let him stay and see it all.

He sits in the tub with you and wipes your tears. He runs the warm water over your shoulders, along your arms. He cleans inside you, even when you make a noise of protest.

He shushes you gently as his fingers delve into you again, "just settle. Relax." And when you go limp against him, head on his shoulder, he praises you in low, soft tones, "that's it–there. That's all, darling."

He is surprisingly gentle. Surprisingly subdued and at peace while he cares for you.

He dries you. He carries you back to bed. You're sore and tender, can feel all his marks and bites and the ache between your legs now very acutely.

He lays atop you, head on your chest, limbs thrown around you. You allow your hands to delve into his hair and you realize much of what he said is true;

He is all you have now. And the sorcery world is to blame, the ones who outcasted you and your family. Him.

Shyly, you draw a finger over the line of his brow, the slope of his nose. He is all you have. He is who you're stuck with, for better or for worse. You let it settle in you, deep and unmoving.

He is all you have.

You hold him tighter, know that maybe he could ruin you or that you could ruin him. You hold him tighter and know that he'll be yours. Or maybe you'll be his.

But more importantly, you know that he could ruin for you. He could ruin all of them.

As if possessed, you whisper it.

You whisper what you want him to become in his ear, as you trace over the scratches and the bites and the wounds. As you hold him to you. As you willingly wrap you arms around him. You tell him you want him to become a monster. You want him to avenge you, avenge himself, to tear it all down. You give him all your ire and contempt. You give him everything ugly while he sleeps and dreams and sighs into your neck.

You poison him. You curse him.

You will ruin them all. You will be something powerful. Something horrible. You will change everything. You will ruin everything.

All I have to do is ask, you think. All I have to do is ask.

And he will give you everything.

[ghoularaki]

Loved your baj keisuke primal prey fic! Especially the plot in the chase was soo good eventhough it was the built up!

I was wondering if you'd be cool with writing something along the lines of a crossover of a yokai or a vampire. I would love a little demonic energy. Along the lines of denying feelings, to being in heat/need for blood (?) To a little chasing and well wooing in the yandere way >>:)

Happy holidays ! :DD

my bloody valentine

ig chase scenes and clubs are just gonna become my staple, i aint complaining >:) (meant to post this on valentine's so heres a 12 day late holiday fic lmao)

tw yandere vampire! baji, vampire hunter! reader, manipulative! baji, aged up! baji, dom! baji, DUBCON, violence/blood, sex work?, blood play, biting, praise, breath play, drugging, cunnilingus, overstimulation, size kink, reader almost dies from blood loss, hinted mindbreak

You blew hot air into your freezing hands. The warmth would only linger for a second but it was idle movement that kept you busy. This winter was incredibly cruel this year. Shivering, you look around into the den you will be infiltrating. You can’t say you weren’t thrilled to be given this mission by the Higher Ones. 

Humans and vampires have been at war since life and death were created. It was a constant push and pull. Humans would win for a century, vampires would retaliate, then vampires would reign for the same length. You were sadly born in the time where vampires ruled. Most humans kept to themselves, some would even offer themselves to be feeds for promises of luxury. Others would hand over their lives in a different way, swear an oath to the Higher Ones to wipe out vampires for once and for all. 

None of the hunters—or rather cleansers—knew exactly who the Higher Ones were. All cleansers knew was that they would receive a message whether in the mail or on their phones with a simple location and target. The target was usually the sire, cut the head of the snake and others will follow. It wasn’t rare for cleansers to work alone. Usually you would be given a partner but for this mission, you were left to your own devices. It’s not like you worked well with others, anyway. Maybe the Higher Ones finally got the message, or they were trying to kill you off. Either way, you were going to finish this mission and reap the benefits. 

Flipping your phone open, you spied the message. Your mission was to pretend to be a feed to cleanse a higher ranking vampire by the name of Baji Keisuke. The number of those sired to him wasn’t the highest count—only somewhere around a dozen—a concerningly low number considering he usually had a feed. 

Slipping your phone into your jacket pocket you finally make your way into the den disguised as a club. For some reason there was no bouncer at the door. Immediately you were hit with the thumping of a constant bass. Up high was a platform where a DJ set the mood for the atmosphere. The only illumination were red, flashing lights that cut through the artificial fog. There was a gaggle of grinding bodies throughout the room. By the bar were even more people. A balcony was right over the bar which you assumed was where the feeding rooms were. Glancing up, you swore you felt eyes boring right into you, but as you squinted your eyes to see farther, all the vampires hanging off the side were enjoying the show. 

On high alert, deep in vampire territory, you were surprised that no one had smelt your very human scent.

“You must be lost!” A sweet, bubbly voice called to you.

Not knowing how you didn’t sense her, a petite woman stood before you. To say she was beautiful was an understatement. This woman had dazzling hazel eyes paired with soft-looking, blonde hair. Her skin was just as perfect, no blemish in sight that made you want to cover your own face. The best way to describe her was as angelic. 

“Oh!” She piped up, realization on her face, “you must be a new feed.”

Straightening up, you replied, “how could you tell?”

“I can smell you, silly.”

She tapped her nose. Looking closer, from her grin you could see the baby fangs poking out.

“Yes, I don’t really know what to do, though.”

“I’ll take you to Draken!”

You were correct to describe her as bubbly. Minutes into knowing you, she wrapped her arm with yours and led you to whoever Draken was. Pushing her way through the crowds, she pulled you towards a set of doors near the bar. Now under the balcony, the feeling of being gawked at went away. You needed to be more careful.

Past the doors was a hallway not as smokey and loud as the club. A few couples leaned against the wall in their own worlds. Further down the hall stood a gargantuan man with a long, blond braid. On the side of his head was an intricate, blackwork tattoo: you can’t imagine how much it must have hurt. 

“Draken,” the girl called with you in toe.

He looked up from his phone to see you both. His eyebrow twitched. He seemed displeased with said girl.

“Emma, why did you bring a human back here?” 

Ah, so that’s why he was so pissed. 

She ignored his question, “she’s a new feed.”

His eyes widen at that, almost relieved, “thank fuck,” he turned to you, “have you ever been a feed before?”

Pretending to seem insecure and meek, you shook your head no. Sensing your nervousness, Draken took you from Emma. She had made a noise of protest, but he had given her a look.

The hand on your shoulder was warm. He must have fed recently. It was true vampires were cold to the touch, but once they satiate their carnal needs, the blood they drank would warm their system for about an hour before becoming cold again like freshly baked cake left to cool for too long. That is why so many vampires indulged, to feel the warmth of being human again. 

Further down the hallway you two went. Draken cleared his throat, “I’m sure you know that being a feed means that you will have a vampire drink from you.”

When you nod your head, he continued. 

“Feeding doesn’t hurt if you are worried about that at all. Anyway, how we do feeding here is that we make sure that all feeds' needs are met. You will always be allowed breaks, and plenty of foods and drinks to bring back up your blood sugar. You also have the option of anything sexual happening and whether or not penetration will happen as well.”

Your face heated up at the implication, “no sex or anything like that, please.”

“Good to know.” 

Draken led you up a flight of stairs to what you saw was the balcony you were previously looking at. Similar to the hallway, the walls were a burgundy with gold detailings. How stereotypical. 

“I will inform who will be feeding from you what you decided. Wait here.” 

With that, he went into a room beside you. You looked left and then right. While taking you upstairs, you memorized the route in case something goes wrong. You needed a fast escape in case. This mission was completely solo so you had to watch your own back. 

Draken pushing the door back open startled you out of your thoughts. The door was left wide open as he gestured for you to come in. Taking the invitation, the room was just as red as the rest of the club. In the room were two wine hued, velvet couches adjacent to each other. Right between them was a mahogany table, under what was a mini fridge. You guessed that’s were all food and drinks you were promised for your blood sugar was. 

The most eye-catching part was the three men in the room sat on said couches. On the sofa to the right were two men, one had bleach blond hair. You could tell from here that he was on the shorter side but you didn’t let that fool you. He had an alluring, cat-like look to him. 

On the other hand, the man beside him had honey gold, rounded eyes. His hair dangled past his shoulders with yellow money pieces framing his sculpted face. Along with that, thick inking was displayed on the side of his neck depicting a tiger. It oddly suited him. 

But what grabbed your attention the most was the vampire sitting on his lonesome, arms sprawled over the back of the couch. Legs spread as well, his whole posture demanded attention. He tilted his head to the side with a cocky smile. His hair was in a similar style to the tattooed man across from him. Though, the vampire’s hair was that of spilled ink. It tumbled around him, his fair complexion all the more pale in contrast. Similar to Emma, his fangs were on display as he smiled up at you as a cat to an unsuspecting mouse. 

“Must be the new plaything,” the black haired vampire teased.

The bottle blond scoffed, “don’t scare her, Baji.”

You schooled your expression. That was a lot easier than you thought to find your target. So sure you would have to ask around without being conspicuous to find him, this seemed almost too easy. 

Baji reached a hand out from where he sat. Taming your disgust, you leave the security of the doorway and enter the belly of the beast. Placing your hand into his freezing, larger palm, Draken took his leave and closed you in with the enemy. Forgoing any formalities, Baji pulled you right into his lap. You struggled in shock but he was quick to snuff the resistance by gripping your hips. 

The other vampires in the room laughed. You silently seethed being used as a toy for their sick entertainment. Knowing in this position you couldn’t even imagine taking down the vampire, you melted into his chest.

“Atta girl,” he sighed into your ear.

Coming down from their giggles, the other men introduce themselves. 

“I’m Chifuyu. I will not apologize for Baji because he will just be annoying,” the bottle blond—Chifuyu—clarified with no malice in his voice. Baji playfully snarled at him.

“Kazutora. Lets hope you last longer than the other ones,” the tattooed vampire spoke cryptically. How reassuring.

Chifuyu elbowed him. 

Ignoring the bickering, Baji placed his attention on you, “Don’t listen to him. I don’t intend to break you… yet.”

“I don’t like what that implies.”

The room became silent at your sass. Kazutora smirked, “so the little lamb has fangs as well.”

You clamped your mouth shut at that. Baji adjusted you in his lap, but he didn’t give away any displeasure. 

At that, the room becomes lively once again. Your presence was completely ignored. You didn’t know if you should be insulted or not. The strangest part was the whole time, Baji didn’t feed from you at all. Besides in the beginning of the session, he had not even grazed your neck. This confused you as you were sure it has been weeks since he has fed. His self control was terrifying if he could starve himself and have basically raw meat served to him on a silver platter and not give into temptation.

You tried your best to keep your cool and slow your pulse to not show how confused you were. By the end of the night, Baji had sent you away by dragging his nose up the length of your neck.

Kissing the skin beneath your ear, “‘til tomorrow, pet.”

In a daze, you leave his lap and walk out of the den with not a scratch on you. As you made your way back to your hideout, you completely forgot about your goal of immediately annihilating him.

You were awoken with two text messages. One from a Higher One and another from Draken. While walking down the hall, you had totally forgotten you had given your number so he could contact you when Baji wanted you. You were officially Baji’s feed.

ONE WEEK

sent 10:00 AM

Come to the club at 10 pm 

sent 5:53 AM

Throwing your phone in anger at the first message, you racked a hand down your face. How the fuck where you supposed to kill him in a week? These old fucks were definitely trying to kill you off. 

Sending a thumbs up to Draken, you lay in bed contemplating your next move to take out this den. 

When you went back to the club, you were met with Draken at the door this time. He guided you through the crowds. You caught a glimpse of Emma, exchanging a shy wave to her overexcited one. 

Going down the same path to the room, you once again mark in your head how to swiftly get out of the building. There were no windows to not let sunlight touch the inside. Vampires didn’t burn up in the sun, but it could make them ill if exposed for too long, like a worm stuck on the concrete on a summer day. 

Deja vu crept in when you walked in just as you did yesterday to see the same vampires in the same position. You could tell yourself that they never left like dolls in a dollhouse waiting for whatever child to play with them again. 

Baji welcomed you back into his icy embrace. Less skittish as the day before, you thaw into his cold body. They went back to their conversation. You played the part of a lap dog for these beasts. 

This went on for seven more days. 

Anxiety bubbled up inside you. This was the last day given to you to complete this assignment. Typically, you were fast at finishing a job, but for some reason you had dragged this one out. Maybe it was the first time you had to actually get close to a target instead of your usual shoot and leave. You had grown comfortable with the company of those three vampires. Dare you say, safe, as no one had harmed a hair on your head. It had been years since you had been cared for. It was hard to befriend fellow cleansers as you never knew who would make it back, whether it was a vampire or by the Higher Ones’ hands.

There was a reason not many chose to be cleansers, most didn’t even have a choice. You bared through the cards dealt to you. You can’t afford to not complete this job. Tonight was the night.

Adjusting the silver blade strapped against your thigh, you saw Draken waiting for your arrival. 

“Before you come in, I must warn you tonight is Valentine’s day so there is going to be a lot of traffic. You will go to your usual room, but don’t be surprised by the influx of your kind.”

You understood the implications. Some people were here to get their kicks. “Whatever, let's just get out of this cold.”

“After you.”

Nodding your head, you are hit with the warmth of tightly packed bodies, a mix of vampires and humans. Lust really does bring camaraderie, you mused. You abandoned the sentiment, prepared to finish this once and for all. If you were smart, you could use the crowd to blend in when you make your departure. It was difficult to see over the sea of people. 

Forcing your way through, you take the road to what could be your doom and be in the company of those strange vampires. Usually Draken would lead you to the room, this time he was too busy dealing with the crowd. There were plenty of inexperienced humans he had to make sure wouldn’t be drained like sun dried fruit. 

Knocking on the familiar door, you awaited entrance. If you were in a better mood, you would have laughed at how the roles were reversed. You, a human, had to wait to be invited in. 

“Come in,” Chifuyu’s voice called.

You twisted the door open to be presented with your typical company. 

Baji beckoned you to take your place sat upon his thighs. Cocooning his body around your smaller form, you noticed that he seemed colder. His skin had light frost to it, but now he was glacerial. 

On the side table were four wine glasses of varying heights of liquid in them. Baji grabbed the only cup almost filled to the brim.

“Here, drink,” he didn’t let you answer before tipping the glass to your lips.

Unable to refuse, you gulped down the rich drink, parched. As if you haven’t drank in a millenia, you let Baji pour the liquid until the glass was empty. Chifuyu and Kazutora watched on, sipping their own drinks. 

“Good girl.”

Finished your glass, he placed it down and went about his business. Following routine, he ignored your pulsing jugular and kept banter with his fellow vampires. At this point, he must be famished. He hadn’t fed in what you guessed three weeks. Lesser vampires would have withered in a couple days without blood. Vampires could get nutrients from human food, but blood is where they thrived. 

Mixed with the suspense of having to kill Baji without getting slaughtered and the suspicion that Baji refused to feed from you, you were more fidgety than normal. Picking at your fingernails, your eyes bounced to the door and then subtly to Baji. If you were quick you could puncture his carotid artery and sprint out, praying to whatever god that Chifuyu and Kazutora would be too stunned to instantly pounce on you.

A whisper breathed against your ear, “getting antsy, little hunter?”

Fuck.

You instantly struggle in his hold but he wrapped his arms around you tight, tight, tight. 

He snickered at your misfortune, “don’t think you could trick me, little hunter, I saw you eyeing out the club weeks before finally presenting yourself on a platter. Thorough aren't you?"

Spiteful, you clenched the dagger hidden in the garter belt and stabbed right through the meat of his thigh. He growls at the pain, face contorting more demon-like. Vampires were good at hiding their true forms unless presented with silver.

You sprung yourself from his lap as he cradled the wound. Him refusing to feed came to bite him as the wound would take longer to heal. Cursing yourself for only having a dagger, you raised your fists in self-defense. You were so worried about the attention a gunshot would bring, you forgot how useless a dagger would be. 

Inching towards the door away from the three vampires, you braced yourself. "I will kill you all.”

Kazutora giggled, "how boring." He looked at you as if you were a kitten hissing. 

Your face twitches at the taunt.

Still cradling his thigh, Baji’s voice cut through the room, "how about let's make this a game. I will give you five minutes to make it out of the club. Do so and I will let you leave. If I find you, though, little hunter, you're mine. My eternal."

Your eyes widen at the proposition. You will not become a vampire's pet. 

Weighing your options, you seethed, "fuck you."

He simply pouted before grinning, "tick tock, you now only have 4 and an half minutes left.”

Even if you didn't want to play he was going to force you. You looked at the three vampires before you. Baji elated, Kazutora bored and Chifuyu looked almost concerned, but you knew it was falsely placed.

You ran out the room with the haunting cackles calling after you. How naive of you to think these creatures were any different. They will always satiate their hunger before anything else. Gluttons, the lot of them. 

Sprinting down the intimate, winding corridors, you were confident in your escape. You memorized the path over the week, knowing it would come to this. But before you were even in the vicinity of the stairwell, you felt woozy.

The red walls blending together, the hues likened to meat more than plaster and wallpaper. Shaking your head, you steeled your teeth. The fucker put something in your drink.

You weren't going to be shackled to him no matter what. Leaning against the walls, you try to hurry away from the private rooms and down to where the population was. Hopefully you could slip away as easily as you planned before. It be damned if you were punished by the higher ones for failing this mission, you weren't going to lose your autonomy to a vampire of all things. You rather lose the eye you sure were going to. The repentment was always a high price.

Willing yourself to push forward, you kept your weight against the wall. If you played your cards right—and stayed awake—you could possibly make it out of this alive. He did say he would give you five minutes. Despite this, with the drug pumping through your veins, time slowed. Every muscle in your body was sluggish. Clutching onto the blooded dagger, you tread on. The one thing you had was your stubbornness and you let that fuel your heavy bones. 

There had to be a reason you lasted this long, especially with spending most of it alone. You were built to endure. And endure you must if you truly don’t want to become a vampire's eternal. 

Brain swimming, you made it to the stairs. Almost there, you reassured yourself. Once you make it to the crowd, your scent and form would disappear into the pool of bodies. Surely, Baji would lose you like a bloodhound presented with too many stimuli. Hope was all you could cling on for now.

Trying your best to forgo the fuzziness, you race down the stairwell back into the forsaken hallway that started this all. You were almost there, all you needed to do was exit the winding corridor. You would crawl back from the mouth of hell. 

A chuckle bellowed in the deserted space. Speak of the devil.

At the top of the stairwell was the very last creature you wanted to see. Stood before was the very vampire that damned you. Smugness reeked from his posture. His hair was tied back. Doom settled in your belly. 

“Hard to focus, huh?” He mocked.

You sneered. Even if he caught sight of you, this morbid game of hide and seek was not done until you decided so.

Adrenaline pumping ever faster, you ripped open a door not too far from you. Slamming it closed and locking it, you ignored the screaming of a woman. On a couch very similar to the one upstairs was a woman with a vampire drinking from her wrist. 

“Get the fuck out!” The vampire sneered, her body shielded the woman. How sweet.

“Don’t let him in,” was all you replied. 

This room also had no window, though there was a door to the right. You swung open to see it was another room just like this one. Must be a safety precaution. Doesn’t matter, all that does is that you can use this to your advantage. You will just room hop until you reach as close as you can to the exit. 

Baji slammed against the door of the room you had just left. Not tempting fate and not wanting him to know you knew all the rooms were connected, you jumped over the couch to the next door. 

You opened and once again you were met with nothing. Sighing in relief, surely if another person kicked up a fuss Baji would instantly pinpoint your location. Dagger in hand, you barged into room after room. The repetition of decor flashed in front of you like a fever dream. 

After what could have been the tenth door you were met with a deadend. This must be the last room in the hall. Inhaling as much as you could, you open the door to the hallway. You were met with nothing and the red lights poured into the hall. Just as you were about to leave the room, a hand grabbed your lower face and pulled you backwards. A scream caught in your throat as the door was pushed shut. Slammed into a tall, freezing body, you struggled.

How the fuck were you caught? You were careful, this wasn’t fair. 

The body wrapped their arm around your waist and hauled you further into the room until you both collapsed onto the couch. Sat upon the lap of the very vampire you wanted far from you, you dug your nails into the skin of his arm. He simply squeezed you tighter. 

“Guess you lost, little hunter.” His tone was condescending and amused.

No, no, you weren’t done. This wasn’t over until you decided it was. The forgotten dagger was quick to dig into the meat of the arm binding you to him. He growled in pain. The hand clutching your lower face, moved its grip to slam your head against the arm of the couch. Your brain wobbled in your skull. Blood gushed from your nose. Everything was in a daze. 

Baji ripped the dagger that poked from the other side of his forearm. You were sure you nicked yourself, but it was worth it. He threw your only weapon far from the both of you. 

He leaned over you and gripped you by your throat. “You brat.”

You laughed in his face. You had definitely sealed your fate as rage built in those molten eyes, but the satisfaction was worth the penalization. 

“You content with yourself?” He mocked, and as you laughed harder, something in him shifted. 

In those golden irises, mischief crept in. Baji never liked prey that rolled over and let him devour. The best part of a meal is the anticipation. 

Still clutching your fragile throat, he leaned down and licked the blood that pooled from your nose down to your lips. A moan left him as his nails grew sharper and the teeth in his mouth stretched. Feeding was always a vulnerable time for vampires as their true forms manifested. Still beautiful, but oh so haunting. Black veins spidered from his under eyes as his mouth became a darker hue. 

“You are absolutely divine.” The words were meant to flatter, but you recoiled. Baji saw the fear start to build. “Now don’t be like that. I won’t hurt you, unless you want me to.”

“Get off me!”

He pressed his body further into yours, his cold meshing with your warmth. The chase had left you heated and your body almost craved the ice he gave. 

“Don’t tell me you didn’t have fun, little hunter. Your kind are always the adrenaline junkies. Can’t say I can judge, though.”

You sniped at him, “yes, running for my life was very thrilling.”

“That's the spirit!” He laughed. This damned vampire was insane. 

You squirmed, wanting him off you. Your arms still freed, you slapped and hit what you could, but it was useless. Baji easily gathered your wrists into one hand and pinned them to the arm of the couch. His weight pressed further into you. His legs, he pried yours apart so he could slot your crotch to his. There was no way you could escape his hold now. 

Exhausted, you don’t know if you even want to. The drugs still haven’t left your system. 

Baji nosed the side of your neck as he did the past week. “See, it doesn’t have to be hard. Just give in to me and you will never have to worry again.”

The words were tempting, but how can you believe the words of a forked tongue beast?

Still seeing you hesitating, Baji pushed more, “it can’t be a great life as a hunter. You spend your days in solitude, in fear of your Higher Ones. With me, you will no longer be afraid.”

You furrowed your brows, his words were too accurate. “How do you know that?”

“I have watched you for so long, my dear hunter. You can say I’m a picky eater.”

Of course, he had been stalking you, why would you think anything else? “Get off. Get off!”

Baji’s thumb stroked right where your carotid artery is, entranced of the blood flowing under the flesh. He stopped listening to your defiant quips. The vampire forgot how long it had been since he fed and he has his meal right under his thumb. He wanted you to be more willing about this, but if he must be mean, he will.

Moving his thumb so it dug into your jawbone, he tilted your head to the right. Baji licked your neck before diving in. A screech bubbled in your lungs when he bit down. His teeth were needles and the more he sank in, the more agony spread throughout your body. Your feet kicked in instinct. God, it fucking hurt but as he gulped down your rosy life essence, your body became pliant. 

His saliva finally hit your system, endorphins clouded your mind. These happy chemicals dimmed the pain and how he was draining you of all your worth. Your screams ebbed into tiny whimpers.

Seeing you had calmed down, Baji pulled away from your neck and licked the blood that fell from the open wound. Falling into blood lust, Baji grew hard from your noises and the taste of you. A warmth grew in his tummy. He needed you and he needed you, now. 

He dragged himself from your body until his knees hit the ground. You were too blissed out from the blood lost to refuse him. Taking advantage of that, Baji pulled your pants and panties off you. Despite his hunger, he was gentle with how he undressed you. The vampire wanted to savor you. 

He took your shoes off as well so you were completely bare for him. Groaning, he spied how slick collected on your slit from the endorphins and fear. Taking your right leg and placing it on his shoulder, he kissed your calf. He slathered you with open mouth kisses until he reached your inner thigh. 

You whined at how he teased you. The build up was making you clench around nothing. Your clit throbbed, begging to be stimulated in any way.

Baji laughed at your impatience. He kept up kissing your inner thigh, switching to the other side to give it the same amount of attention. Dragging his teeth gently over the skin, you whimpered when his breath hit your cunt. You bucked. He took his other hand and splayed it on your tummy to hold you down. 

“Patience.”

You kicked him and he scowled at you. The endorphins were wearing off faster than he wanted. Baji went back to your right thigh, so close yet so far from your cunny, he placed another kiss. Before he bit down once again. Your eyes shot up from the half-mast and you gasped in pain. Baji was quick to remedy the pain and licked you. A moan left you when he drank from you again. 

It was borderline addicting how your life was drained from you. The familiar sluggishness crept back up. No wonder people were feeds. To stay in this cloudy sensation was heavenly. 

Baji parted from your thigh and finally licked your pussy. Blood was smeared over you as he sucked your clit into his mouth. You yelped at the attention. He laughed into you. The vibration of his mouth sent more pleasure down your spine. He pulled off your clit to drag his tongue from the bud down to your hole. The appendage dipped in, testing the waters. Bucking up again, or at least attempting to, Baji took that as to keep going.

And keep going did he. Nose deep, he kept tonguefucking you. It was an odd sensation but not unwelcome. His tongue was more dexterous than fingers. He twisted against your walls. Pulling his tongue out, you whined but he was quick to shut you up by taking your clit back in his mouth. The constant attention was becoming too much. 

Finding purchase, your hands gripped the one holding your hips down. He welcomed the contact as he kept pushing you closer and closer to the edge. It was unfair how good he was at this. 

“Please, please!” You begged. At this point for more or for him to stop, you didn’t know. It was just too much. 

His tongue flicked against the swollen bud as his hand dipped down to split you open with two fingers. The intrusion was almost enough, you just need more. Moans poured out. The stuttering of your chest and the shake of your thighs was enough of a tell to Baji. Ending your misery, he sucked your clit in his mouth as he curled his fingers just right. 

Ringing in your ears was all you could hear as you fell apart for the creature you swore you would end tonight. Tears bubbled up at how overwhelmed you were. Baji gave a few more licks and pumps to slowly bring you down from your orgasm. Like he cut all the strings from you, you flop further into the couch. 

Oversensitive, you whined when he took his fingers from you and pulled away from your thighs. Blood coated his lower face along with your slick. Your face almost steamed from the humiliation. Still kneeling, he kept eye contact as he brought his fingers to his lips, coated just the same as his face. He dragged his tongue from his palm up to the underside of his appendages. 

A wicked gleam flicked in his now ruby eyes, “here, you have a taste.”

He crawled back up to crowd and pin you against the couch. Without poise, he shoved his fingers into your mouth. You gagged at the intrusion and the taste of your own blood and cum. Though still high on the happy hormones, you sucked on his fingers. Maybe if you clean him, he will release you of the taste. “Fuck,” he breathed, slack jawed. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

You kept his gaze, eyes bleary. That was enough for Baji. He pulled out from your mouth and sat back up. Impatient, he flicked up the button of his black jeans along with the zipper. The vampire couldn’t take it anymore. He had to be in you. From what he gathered tonguefucking you, you were warm and tight. 

He tugged down his pants and boxers with the crass he lacked when he undressed you. His cock was heavy as it flopped out from the constricting material. Baji sighed in relief. His cock was pretty. It was about average length but it was thick. His pubes were untamed and you squirmed at how it would feel against your already overstimulated clit. Precum drooled from the head. 

Thank fuck he opened you up or else you don’t think you could handle it with no prep. Baji gathered your arms again. Now filled with your blood, Baji was warm, hot. With his free hand, he lined himself up to your twitching hole. 

With no warning, he breached your slit. You groan at how the head bullied its way inside you. Baji followed the noise as he forced his hips further. The drag of his cock against your almost reluctant walls was having you see stars. 

He went back to wrapping a hand around your throat, fingers almost meeting at the back of your neck. Baji was so much bigger and stronger than you. He was just a tall man in general, but as he hovered over you with his hips smooshed against yours, you melt at how he engulfs you. 

Buried to the hilt, the vampire brings his mouth back to your throat, the wound still throbbed. 

“So good,” he slurred.

At that he started his rhythm. He pulled his hips back until only his cockhead was in you. You whined at being almost empty again. He shushed you. Right when he slammed in, he bit down on your throat, a lower place than before. You screamed. 

“T-too much!” you cried.

“You can take it.” 

Baji ignored your pleas as he fucked into you like a piston. He was using you like a cocksleeve. His pace was thorough and hard. His cock was filling you up in ways you never had before. It was like he was trying to mold your cunny to the shape of his cock. 

Baji kept gulping down your blood until you were fuzzy again but this time it was from the blood loss. If he kept drinking from you, you might actually pass out. 

You clenched down at the thought. Would he still keep fucking into you even if you were unconscious? A sick part of you wanted him to. So drunk off him, you wanted to be used by him in any way he needed. Why were you so set on killing him only hours ago?

Fuck, maybe you were dying. What a whorish way to go out.

Baji squeezed on your wrists as he lost his rhythm. 

“I’m close, fuck, you are divine. Your blood and your pussy. You were built just for me, my eternal.”

A sense of foreboding tried to dig into your consciousness but you were so focused on how you were right that his pubes digging into your clit was too much. Almost to your end as well, you canted your hips in tandem to his. 

“More, more,” you pleaded. More of what? You had no clue.

Baji did know what you needed as he pressed his hand further into your throat, squeezing the sides to cut off blood flow to your brain. That was enough for you to clench down so hard that Baji growled. As your cunt fluttered around him, the vampire bit further into the juncture of your shoulder until teeth almost met teeth. You screeched at the pain and Baji’s hips stuttered as he came deep in you. Him filling you has that same ringing blind you. 

You came right after him as he kept thrusting his hips into yours, not ready to leave your warmth. The strain of cumming left you limp in Baji’s grasp. Pulling his teeth from your throat, he saw the mess he left of your neck. It was as if you were mauled by a wolf rather than the vampire before you. 

You were losing blood fast and no matter how much Baji licked your wounds, it wouldn’t take back all the blood he took from you. Releasing the hand from your neck, he ripped open his own wrist so the life he stole from you and cycled through his undead heart poured from him. 

He brought the bleeding arm to your mouth, “drink,” he commanded just as he did earlier tonight.

With no way to resist, you drank. You drank until your belly was filled with his blood that was once yours. Letting go of your bound hands, you cradled the wrist as you swallow all you can, desperate. This was likened to drinking liquid candy. 

“Enough.”

Baji pulled his arm away as you whined, missing the taste. Your chin was drenched with blood just as him. Slowly your wounds started to close and your missing blood was replenished. Despite this, you still were in an endless fog. 

The vampire leaned back on the other end of the couch and gathered you in his arms. He rested your weary head on his plush pectoral. Whatever drive you had was gone. You wanted to stay in his arms forever. Eternally. 

network: @tokyometronetwork

[sashi-ya]

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟑 DAY 21: FEAR PLAY Äs Nödt x F! Reader

Requested by: @muzans-stuff ➡ Hello If it's okay I'd like to participate in the kinktober event. I'm an AFAB with pronouns of she/her. I choose Äs Nödt with these following kinks: Dom/sub, impregnation ,humiliation ,CNC and ESPECIALLY fear play. thank you ♥️ ➡ i'm sorry for the delay my love, but here it is finally! hope you enjoy :3 tw: MDNI. In any case I am saying being admitted to a psychiatric hospital is scary, however being dragged to a place like that without being informed... CNC (rape/forced to mentions. be extremely careful). fear play. rough sex. humiliation. kinda dominant as (duh). slapping. humiliation. and everything dark. wc: 1,3kmasterlist

Eyes wide open, mouth covered. Boney hands, a chill running through your spine. “You are mine…” “Am I?”

White cold flickering lights, padded walls… why is everything so empty? Why does it look like a mental hospital room?

Your back pressed against the wall; it doesn’t hurt, it’s soft and secure. But your legs are shaking, you even feel like peeing yourself.

“Äs… what are we doing here?” you ask, with trembling voice and watery eyes. “Shut up…” he whispers, with low raspy voice that’s both terrifying and sexy.

You swallow, blinking fast enough for a single tear to finally fall from your eye. You try to search for an exit, perhaps the door. When have he taken you here? was it while sleeping? The last thing you remember was feeling dizzy and sleepy during dinner with the Sternritters.

When your eyes finally devise what it might look like a door, you take a deep breath and decide to run towards it. You love Äs, in a sick twisted way… but you are also scared… and there are still, maybe, boundaries you aren’t ready to take. Or are you?

As you move your foot, he approaches you violently. One of his hands cover your mouth, while the other pushes you from your lower belly against the padded wall. You can’t move a single muscle, you feel your blood turning cold, as if you were instilled with a poison right in your veins.

“Do not search for an exit. Haven’t I tell you already that you are mine?” he grunts, with his tiny nose pressed against your cheek but still wearing his black mask over it.

You try to deny with your eyes, as he is pressing your head so hard against the wall. He seems to be losing control, as if your fear fed something feral inside of him…

“Stop crying. Stop crying. Stop crying!” he suddenly screams, when your tears become profuse and wet the back of his pale hand. The veins on it become swollen, and his muscles tense more and more.

You can’t help it; you can’t stop crying.

His black pointy nails carve in your cheeks, as he shakes your face and then pushes you to the ground in a swift and violent motion.

Your knees carve in the padded floor. And somehow you begin to see the situation as a dark metaphor for the love you both hold for the other; it’s humiliating, it’s painful… but it’s pure white, and it doesn’t really hurt… it’s sick, but it’s healing.

You turn to look at him, his black boots, his black hair, and black eyes contrast with the white around as he walks to you. He does it slowly, but it is terrifying.

Äs looks at you from the side, as he tilts his neck to the right. His silky long hair falls like an onyx downpour on his frame. “You are pathetic” he growls, but you get the impression he is smiling under his mask as his eyes get squinted and the black orb takes over the whole socket.

Your white uniform has been slightly tore, but you don’t even remember when it happened. Nor you realize his heavy boot is now over your chest. Time seems to pass either too slow, or too fast… you feel like missing parts of reality… have you been drugged? Or is it Äs’s power? Is it the F supposed to be used this way?

“Will you hurt me?” you ask him, still crying. “Oh no… it is yourself who will if you don’t comply to my orders” he says, using his foot to spread your legs.

You soon realize that what he is meaning to do is not killing you… but fucking you. He is not willing to hear a “no” as a response, that’s why he isn’t even asking. You are, however, afraid of his words… knowing that he has the means to make you hurt yourself, makes you tremble.

You begin crawling back, you are sweating cold, you get tunnel vision having him to be the only image in the centre of your sight.

In a blink of an eye, he is already pinning you against the floor. Äs is topping you, with his long hair tickling your cheeks and the mask barely separating your lips from his.

His body feels like a bag of bones, a characteristic you have always loved about him. You enjoyed the way his hipbones protruded through the long white cover of his uniform, and always wished to be able to see his collar bones... well, now you will.

His hand slides down until your leg, lifting it up until his waist. Your skirt, that’s probably falling off by now, will allow him to have easy access to your core.

You are terrified and confused.

You aren’t sure if you want it or not, but the way his erection feels against your core fans the flame of need and yet of fright. And the more he grazes his hardness against you, the more you cry; this time, uncontrollably sobbing but with bucking up hips searching for more. What a beautiful yet painful dichotomy.

“You are such a slut, crying because you don’t want to get fucked but still rubbing yourself against me” he growls, searching with his bony hand for your panties to rip them off.

You catch a glimpse of logic and begin fighting -or trying to look like you are- to get him off of you. Deep inside, the more you want him to force you, the more that turns you on.

Ripped your underwear, his hand is now grabbing yours by the wrist above your head. “Stay still, bitch. You are getting that hole raped by me because… YOU. ARE. MINE”

You squirm under his firm touch. He might look like he is weak, but he is stronger than you in every way.

With his free hand, he slaps your face and then takes off his mask. For the first time you discover how his façade looks and you are beyond pleased. He is beautiful; pale, chapped lips, sick looking eyes but still full of a strong desire to live.

“Stop crying, you are not making me stop… come on” he whispers, now with his lips playfully grazing yours.

You sniff, trying to obey, trembling in fear but also in need. You feel his hand going down, while his dress like clothes go up. You get a glimpse of his pale, almost white abs. There is not a single gram of fat on his abs, and you discover that he is indeed way thinner than what you thought he was.

While his flesh is generally cold, his sex isn’t. You can sense the throbbing warmth reaching your slippery entrance.

“Even if I am forcing my dick in you, you are still so wet…” he moans, attacking your lips afterwards and impaling you with no mercy.

You arch your back, mewling in his mouth. But he won’t let you breathe any other air that the one coming from his own lungs.

Äs fucks you excessively rough, making you sure you aren’t able to escape from his claws, leaving you at his complete mercy… with your head spinning, and your legs losing their total strength.

He enjoys your clenching walls, your milking insides, slapping you once in a while. Sometimes he even stays inside you for some seconds, to show you how much you want him to keep ramming into you.

“You were crying and kicking before, and now you want more of my dick? Don’t you see how much of a needy whore you are? Why don’t you become my cum dump too? Let me get you pregnant, so that everybody knows you are only mine”

You widen your eyes; humiliated, asking for more of his dick, pleading with tears for your womb to be filled with his semen… forced to get pregnant by him.

Do it, Äs… After all, you have become crazy… stupidly psychiatric for him…

taglist: @miabiaria @carmenthedreamer @stygianoir @electronicwitchcollection @aizenwifey @deputy-videogamer @efrodd17 @mizugami @uzxotic @cyberdazetragedy @bookandyarndragon @fushiguroshotwife 💖

[eemcintyre]

Cruel to be Kind (Terry Silver)

TW- um... about that... *inhales,* noncon touching, mentions of harassment, size/strength kink if you squint, vomit, blood, literal murder, general toxic yandere-esque behavior; no need to worry about me at all btw thx for asking ❤️

Summary- Terry finds out that a coworker has been bothering you and you insist he stays out of it, but he takes matters into his own hands. Literally. And let's just say that it could go better.

Pls I beg you to be kind for this first foray into writing for this character. I was inspired by the phenomenal writings of @karatekels and @terrence-silver, hopefully it's an enjoyable read. It was cathartic for me to write bc I'm dealing with a v creepy guy where I work right now and it makes me feel just the tiniest bit better to imagine Terry destroying him.

“You’re quiet today. Is everything alright?”

Terry’s curious voice sounded from the leather armchair where he sat. His face was still slightly downturned from when he had been reading the book in his lap, but his eyes were directed up at her quizzically.

It was the end of a long workday for both he and Y/N, and after dinner they had decided to simply sit and enjoy each other’s company- he in the armchair, and she on the couch perpendicular to him. However, his attempts at conversation quickly fizzled out with short, superficial replies from Y/N. While she was usually vibrant, having no shortage of things to say as her dark eyes glittered with excitement, that evening, her distant gaze reflected that her thoughts were elsewhere.

At Terry’s question, Y/N’s gaze snapped out of the distance and onto him, his favorite place for it to be.

“Yes, of course, everything’s fine,” she smiled and nodded, with what looked like substantial effort, sitting with her feet curled up on the couch.

Terry removed his glasses and snapped the cover of his book closed. “Darling, how long until you finally realize that you can’t lie to me?” They’d been together for five years and married for three of them, and she had yet to succeed.

“I…” Y/N opened her mouth to make another hollow proclamation about how fine she was but thought better of it. “It’s nothing; it’s not important. You have better things to worry about.”

She stared down at her hands, twisted together in her lap. Embarrassment washed over her in an intense red flush as she thought about what she was bothered by, praying that she wouldn’t have to tell him.

Terry leaned forward almost imperceptibly in his chair, lowering his voice, his expression softening in the way that it only did for her.

“Should I be worried? Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”

“It’s just… you have a tendency to… overreact.” Y/N briefly met his eyes, even though she knew without looking at them that they were piercing through her.

“Oh?”

Y/N could tell from that single syllable of Terry’s response that what she’d said had been the wrong thing to say. The soft expression returned to its typical severity.

“Give me an example. Give me an example of a time I ‘overreacted’,” he gestured for her to go on, leaning back into the armchair and crossing one long leg over the other.  

“Terry…”

“No, I want to know. Tell me so I can learn how to handle myself better.” His voice was laced with sarcasm. Her stomach sank, but there was no turning back from the conversation now. His interest was piqued, and like an animal on the hunt, he wasn’t about to let the matter go.

“Well, like the time that guy hit on me at the charity ball and you roundhouse-kicked him in the garden.” Y/N replied cautiously, cringing, not only remembering the feeling of that creep groping her again, but also the shock of Terry’s dramatic reaction to it.

Rather than hotly debate that past event with her, which was what Y/N expected, he simply cocked his head and asked “Is this like that time?”

“Just… please be calm.”

“I am calm.” His voice took on an unmistakably harder edge as he leaned toward her again, waves of silver hair framing his face, and just like that it softened. His capacity to pivot from one mood to another, moment-by-moment, never failed to amaze her. Terry rose from his chair and took the place next to Y/N on the couch, resting one of his large, warm hands over hers, which were sitting on the tops of her thighs. “You’re just worrying me. What’s going on?”

Y/N sighed, her eyes affixed to the floor, fidgeting nervously with Terry’s hand as she spoke. “There’s this guy who’s a higher-up in my department at work- Brian- who’s been… bothering me. At first, he just made a lot of, like, off-color jokes, but now he’s also touched me a couple of times and- I mean, maybe it was an accident, but…” Her voice had become barely a mumble. “I just feel really uncomfortable… and I don’t want it to escalate anymore…”

She paused briefly and finally turned her head to face him. He remained silent, and unlike how he could so easily with her, she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. The silence intensified her nervousness, so she rambled on.

“I’m trying to figure out how I should handle it without causing a big scene because, other than that, I have a really good thing going there, but… I’m just afraid that one day he��s going to be outside waiting for me in the parking lot or something.” She was shaking by this point and turned away from him again.

With a husband who was known for being so strikingly intelligent and capable of handling himself, Y/N felt utterly stupid for 1) getting into such a situation in the first place, and 2) not yet managing to get it under control. She wondered if a “strike first, strike hard, no mercy” lecture was coming.

Instead, she was surprised when he rose from the couch and strode toward one of the tall living room windows, hands in his pockets.

“Does this prick know that you’re married?” he asked.

She held up her left hand, adorned with a large and intricately detailed ring that was hard, if not impossible, for anyone to miss.  

“Does he know who you’re married to?”

“I doubt there’s anyone in town who doesn’t,” Y/N uttered a half-hearted laugh.

“And do you dislike that?” He stepped back toward her with measured steps, but his blue eyes flashed. “Is there a reason you don’t want to be associated with me?”

“I just don’t like being treated differently,” she said wistfully, thinking back to when she was just another random person and not Terry Silver’s wife. “Sometimes I feel like I get things I didn’t earn. Sometimes people act like they’re afraid of me.”

“They’re not afraid of you, angel. They’re afraid of me,” Terry replied, his matter-of-fact tone contrasted by the tension of his fists and the vein protruding from his forehead. “But apparently, not enough. If someone disrespects you, they disrespect me.”

Y/N’s shoulders sagged in frustration. “Don’t make this out to be an attack on your ego; this has nothing to do with you-”

“It has everything to do with me!”

She flinched and he made a conscious effort to lower his voice, crouching at her feet and taking her hands, tilting her chin up to force her to look at him. “A threat to you is a threat to me because I care about you so deeply. And no one threatens me and gets away with it.”

“Terry, now you’re scaring me…” She tried to shrink away from his touch, but he was slipping too far into his own anger to notice. The idea of some creep feeling entitled to put their filthy, unworthy hands on his wife, reducing her vivacious personality and sweet smile to a quiet, blank stare, had Terry seeing red.

“This jackass put his hands on you? I’ll put my hands around his neck until it snaps,” he growled.

“Terry! Please, let me resolve this. Don’t hurt him-”

“-Don’t hurt him?” he was incredulous. They rose to their feet together, where he towered over her and gripped her by the shoulders. “He hurt you, I’ll hurt him. Cause and effect. Actions have consequences. If he doesn’t have an understanding of that concept, I’ll give him one…”

“‘Consequences’ doesn’t have to mean breaking his legs. I am begging you, please just let me handle this and don’t do anything, not yet- promise me, sweetheart, please. For me.” Y/N’s voice shook as she pleaded with him, hands fisted in his shirt, trying with everything in her power not to cry as she felt tears shimmer at the corners of her eyes.

Terry stared down at her wordlessly, but his face calmed, and he released her from his hold, making a gesture with his shoulders and arms that Y/N read as acceptance.

“Thank you,” she exhaled, wrapping her arms around his torso in an embrace, her body relaxing when she felt his arms curl around her too.

~

The following day, Y/N pulled her cream-colored vintage Mercedes into the driveway. She was looking forward to an early start to the weekend, having had an extremely productive day and meeting all of the week’s deadlines just after the hour of noon. It was truly shocking how productive Y/N could be when she wasn’t constantly having to worry about avoiding Brian and wondering what he might do next.

When Y/N first clocked in for the morning, she’d been struck with an ice-cold pang in her stomach upon noticing that his desk was empty. She immediately thought of the ominous conversation with Terry yesterday, but before she could fall too far down that spiral, she was relieved to learn that Brian had merely called in sick. She laughed at herself. There was always some kind of cough or cold floating around the office, and to be honest, Y/N was surprised that she hadn’t caught anything herself in a while.

Even though a single day of illness wasn’t going to fix any of her problems, it was definitely a charming coincidence, a welcome surprise. It made the entire day incredibly pleasant- the sun seemed to shine brighter, her morning tea tasted sweeter, and the sound of the Motown music coming from the car radio sounded clearer. Maybe the universe was on her side and, even if she didn’t know how yet, everything would sort itself out after all.

Reaching the garage, she removed the key from the Mercedes’ ignition and took a moment to relish in the silence. The only detectable sound was the distant chirp of birds.

Come to think of it, it was almost too quiet.

Even during times when Terry himself was away doing work, the staff was always clattering around inside and outside the house doing cleaning and maintenance. Maybe they’d also had a productive morning.

Gathering her purse and heading inside, Y/N thought about suggesting to Terry that they go out to dinner, and maybe even take a whirlwind weekend trip. She decided to freshen up her hair and makeup and change into something cute before he returned home. Maybe that delicate champagne-colored slip dress from Paris.

Y/N found the interior of the house to be just as quiet and empty as the exterior, the sound of her lone footsteps bouncing off the marble walls of the foyer. She jumped upon hearing a thud from the floor above but was comforted to finally hear some sort of movement in the house. She was about to call out for some of the staff when Vince, Terry’s head of security, appeared from a side hallway.

Y/N smiled in relief. “What’s going on? Where is everyone?” she asked, realizing that if Vince was at the house, then Terry must be as well. “Where’s Terry?”

Vince did not smile back. “Mr. Silver is working in his office. He asked not to be disturbed until-”

She waved him off, bemused, taking a step forward that he immediately moved to block. “What are you talking about? I’m sure-”

“Mrs. Silver, he ordered me not to let anyone in.”

“I’m his wife,” she insisted, her pulse inexplicably starting to race, eyebrows furrowed as she kept trying to get past Vince and he continued to block her path. It kept repeating over and over in her head that something was wrong. “I’m sure he didn’t mean…”

Their tense dance across the floors escalated as Vince physically tried to hold her in place by the shoulders.

“What the hell? Let me go!” she cried, writhing in his grip, and swatting at his chest.

“Mrs. Silver, please don’t do this-”

Y/N managed to push him away from her for a brief moment, long enough to step out of the perimeter of his reach and sprint up the stairs. She stumbled a few times, shaking and lightheaded, and her thoughts were so muddled from panic that she hardly knew how she eventually reached the door of Terry’s office.

She would have hesitated to dramatically burst in and disturb him under normal circumstances, but these circumstances were decidedly not normal.

She staggered through the doorway.

The rest of the room was slightly sunken-in from the doorway, making it so one was unable to see most of the room without taking a few steps further. She was met again with eerie quiet- apart from the faint sound of someone breathing heavily. Still shaking, Y/N treaded delicately forward until she sighted Terry standing in the middle of the room by the small couch, his back to her.

“I thought I told you not to come in here until I called you,” he snapped, his shoulders rising up and down with the force of his breath. His hair was swept into a ponytail, but it looked askew- loose locks floating at random on both sides of his head.

“Terry?” Y/N approached him timidly, struggling to speak over her knotted-up stomach.

At the sound of her voice, Terry spun around. Y/N froze. Surprise briefly flickered across his face before he brought his expression back to its typical calculated control. “You’re home early, darling,” he murmured, forcing enough of a smile that it would appear he was pleased to see her.

“I… I finished up my projects for the week…” Y/N trailed off, taking in the rest of Terry’s unusual appearance. His face glistened with sweat and one side looked like it was smeared with…

“W-what’s that?” she gasped, eyes widening as she gestured to his face.

Terry lifted a hand to his cheek, and when he lowered it, he studied the dark red that had transferred to the pad of his finger. He would have to think fast.

“You’re bleeding.”

As Y/N neared Terry, he tried to guide her away from where he’d been by the couch, but it was too late. As she grew close enough to just barely see around the front of the couch, her eyes went to an unfamiliar object on the ground.

It was a man’s shoe. With a foot in it.

Terry was silent as Y/N screamed, stumbling back in horror as her gaze traveled further up and recognized Brian, crumpled up on the floor in a heap of blood.

Terry caught her as she fell and attempted to gather her into his arms, but she thrashed against his hold.

“Get the hell away from me- don’t touch me! Don't fucking touch me!” Even though he was far stronger than her, he allowed her to push him away. He spoke in a measured, low tone.

“Listen. I didn’t want you to have to see this…”

“You are so sick,” she choked out, tears spilling down her cheeks, eying him like he was an uncaged wild animal.

“Sick with love for you, yes,” he replied bluntly, slightly tilting his head and giving a small shrug.

“No, you’re a monster; you are evil and vile and perverted…” she sobbed.

“Well, don’t stop there. Go ahead. Tell me more, sweetheart.” Terry’s tone was flat but his gaze was unflinchingly intense. She recoiled. “What did you expect me to do? Did you really think I was going to stand aside and do nothing, knowing that my wife spends every day looking over her shoulder and living in fear, getting preyed on like a piece of meat? Besides, I told you- a threat to you is a threat to me. I protect what’s mine.”

He tried to grab ahold of her again and she tried to wrestle blindly out of his arms, her vision blurred by tears, the anger at being betrayed, and the stomach-turning fear of what he was really capable of, no matter how much of a mellow act he could put on. But, this time, he didn’t allow her to push him away.

“Why the hell are you crying? You didn’t even like this worthless piece of shit- he hurt you and he got exactly what he deserved!”

She was supposed to be relieved- she also wasn’t supposed to see the body or find out Brian had been murdered- but there was no undoing it. Terry roughly gripped her by the chin, confused frustration overtaking his better judgement as he forced her to look at the body seeping blood all over the office carpet.

“Now, look at that. You’ll never hear another filthy word from that mouth,” he whispered gently, the side of his face pressed to hers, gesturing to Brian’s battered facial features. “Those hands will never touch you again.” Terry pointed out the amalgamation of blood and broken bone at the end of each of the man’s arms.

Y/N was able to free her chin, slippery from tears, from Terry’s grip, stomping one of his feet and elbowing him in the ribcage hard. He could have easily kept his hold on her and subdued her but decided it would be best to allow her a couple of minutes to calm down. He would repay her for the blows and the ungratefulness another time.

Terry reminded himself that Y/N, unlike himself, was totally inexperienced when it came to violence, blood, and guts. Doing what had to be done. She took the path of least resistance even at her own expense. But this was a start; something he could work with.

Alarmed by the commotion inside the office, having overheard the conversation but hesitating to interrupt, Vince and a member of the maintenance staff finally crept inside of the room, looking at Terry expectantly.

“Clean this room from top to bottom,” Terry directed, waving his finger offhandedly in the general direction of the couch before stalking past them. As he thought about where Y/N was likely to have gone, he wiped the sticky droplets of blood from his face.  

After escaping Terry, Y/N had run straight to the master bathroom to be sick. Slumped over the toilet, she heaved violently, feeling worse than she ever had in her life, coming down from the pure shock and experiencing a gouging pain in her chest. She hoped with everything in her that Terry would leave her alone, but she knew he was likely only moments behind. And sure enough, she soon heard the door open behind her and felt his body close to her again. Forced to either vomit all over the room or remain clutching the toilet (and choosing the latter) it was impossible to shy away from his suffocating touch.

He knelt next to her on the tile, delicately stroking her back with one hand and holding her hair out of her face with the other.

“Darling, just try to breathe. Try to relax your stomach,” he cooed, wholly unphased by the disgusting sights and sounds before him as she weakly tried and failed to push him off. “That’s it, let it all out. I’ve got you…”

When Y/N appeared to be finished retching for the time being, Terry brought her so that her back was flush with his chest and his own back was propped up against the wall. He snaked an arm over the counter of the bathroom vanity, grabbing a towel to wipe her face with. She burst into tears again, undoing his work, laying helpless as he cradled her.

“N-no…” she groaned faintly.

She was too exhausted and defeated to fight him anymore. Caged by his long arms and legs, she just sobbed into his warm chest, feeling the vibrations of his voice.

“Everything will be alright now. You’re safe with me.”  

[thirsty-boba-fett-posts]

This will be a multi part fic.

tw: injuries, trauma, family abandonment, eventual smut, power imbalance, Daddy kink (if you squint)

…

It was too early in the day for tributes and grievances. In hindsight, he should have known this was neither. When 8D8 announced her entrance, he tilted his head to the side ever so slightly in an uncharacteristic gesture of puzzlement. Fennec, ever observant at his side, glanced at him and raised her eyebrows.

He hardly recognized her. Not because he hadn’t seen her in years - she had her father’s best features and distinct big, bright eyes - but because the left side of her face was mottled with livid bruises and her lip was split. There was blood down the front of her dress and caked in her nostrils. She stood straight and walked with her head high and her shoulders back. A white, odd-eyed tooka, specially bred to be the companion of royalty, trailed behind her. It had been just a kitten the last time Boba saw it - a gift from her father. The Boy King, they’d called him. Boba had at first wondered how he’d ever managed to raise a child, then he watched her loping effortlessly around the palace courtyard on a fathier that stood taller than a man and he realized that she’d raised herself.

The Boy King of Brao frequently employed the bounty hunter Boba Fett when he was in the business of taking no-questions-asked contracts. The Boy King was, in fact, only a few years older than Fett himself. Contracts for The Boy King always ended in as many rounds of strong drink as Fett could tolerate and the offer of companionship from one of the many dancing girls who benefited from The Boy King’s propensity for debauchery. The Princess, a child then, would be in the stable or the woods.

Fett did meet her once, briefly, before her father sent her off to a finishing school on Hosnian Prime. And here she was now, a finished princess, maintaining her composure admirably despite what appeared to be throbbing injuries to her face.

“Come forward,” he said, more softly than he intended.

She signaled with her hand at her side for the fancy-bred tooka to sit and remain still, and Fett saw in that moment that her hand was bruised as well and at least two of her fingers appeared visibly broken.

The Princess stepped towards the throne with her eyes cast down and her posture rod straight. She executed an admirable curtsy, but winced and made a small noise as she raised herself back up. There were dark circles under her eyes and her lashes were wet.

“What brings you to Mos Espa, Princess?”

“There was a coup,” she replied quietly.

There had indeed been a coup. The Boy King’s decades of indulgences had finally caught up with him. He’d fled, leaving The Princess to face the consequences alone.

“Where is your father?”

“If I knew, I would have told the Opposition General the first time he asked and avoided all of… this.”

She gestured weakly towards her face.

The Princess, being The Boy King’s next of kin, was issued the death penalty on his behalf. She’d managed to bribe her way on to the smuggling compartment of a ship - along with her tooka - and had the presence of mind to make her way to the palace of Boba Fett, the only person with any power that her father hadn’t managed to betray or swindle.

…

Fett instructed Drash to help her into the bacta tank. In the privacy of Fett’s healing room, she helped The Princess peel off her bloody dress and wrap clean muslin cloth over her breasts and across her hips to preserve her modesty. Her injuries were extensive, and once she was unconscious and fully submerged in the tank, Fett briefly and without a spare glance read through the health report on the bacta tank’s data pad.

The tooka - a male of the species named Fru - whined anxiously at Fett and sat up on his haunches to peer into the bacta tank at his sleeping mistress.

“She’ll be fine.”

“Chrrp.”

…

Part II is coming soon. Requests are open. I’m taking suggestions for a name for The Princess.

[poisonpeche]

Ahhhhh I had a sexy lil dream about scare actor levi and it was just great 🥰 specifically when you wrote about seeing him walking slowly to you frame by frame in strobe lights - and then it became like a game of hide and seek, but everything was heightened because it’s a haunted house and he was dressed up with a chainsaw prop so the thrill was 👌🏼

A sexy lil’ dream about scare actor Levi what a fuckin’ trick AND treat, Nonnie.

First of all, love that for you. Secondly, I too have an overactive imagination and have him in my thots daily.

Let’s share a new nightmare dream together, shall we? 👻

***

Paranormal Activity Part II | Levi Ackerman x You

Summary: Scare Actor Levi chases you in a haunted house with the star of the show, a chainsaw. Or is it…You?

NSFW, MDNI, 18+ ONLY - TW: Role Playing, Mutual Masturbation, Light Spanking, Degradation if you squint, Temperature Play, Fake Blood & Gore, Spooky Themes. Turns out you two have a kink for Exhibitionism in Haunted Houses.

Read Part I

The grime of his pitch black makeup smears down his high cheeks and cut jaw.

Eyes as sharp and silver as a dagger in the night darting around every corner for you…

“Where are youuu, sweetheart?” He sing songs in a mocking timbre with a gentle rev of the chainsaw’s engine.

You’d whimper, but he’d find you all too easily.

Another game to your arsenal. Levi’s Game.

A crimson glow drips down the walls in a thick haze like blood, a fitting scene for the maze you’re panting through. Hair whipping as you twist your neck around with eyes wide. As you turn away from the only light source down a deep entrance, your fingers run over the battered and bruised wood of the hallway. You desperately search for something to hold onto as your sight strains against the dark void.

Tips extended wide and futile, you brush over something smooth to the touch yet hard. And warm.

“Hah! I found you, you sicko - you lost!”

A sliced neck greets you with entrails unfurling in waves and you nearly fall to the ground as a blaring horn is triggered with a flash. A decapitated figure suspended and tragic looms over you and you absolutely hate that he nearly got you.

A snicker, brutal and seductive floats through air and down your spine. It’s him. He feels near and far away like an entity. Like a ghost.

“What else would those gorgeous legs do, but lead you right into my trap? As always,” he mocks through a snarl.

You roll your eyes and gather yourself, lunging forward with a scoff. You begin searching for your next hiding place. But why not taunt your predator into madness while you’re at it?

“Hmm very funny,” you jeer, seizing control.

“What’s so funny, hm?”

“Funny, that you’re convinced they only get me into trouble. When they seem to only devastate you. Isn’t that right? Levi.”

You’re quite the multitasker as you manage to search for a new hiding place and fatally flirt with him. He lets you pretend to win as he watches your skirt ride up over your thighs while you bend down amidst an earthen set of uprooted trees and cracked stone.

Fuck, if he doesn’t love to watch.

The way the fat of your thighs spill through your fishnets. Another purchase for his girl. The lattice stretching wide against your skin.

He wants to lick you stupid.

But settles for pathetically twitching in his high waisted jeans wrapped so tight around his navel at the sight of you in that pastel pink skater dress. The one with with the high neck and flowing long sleeves against the harsh lines of your stockings and thigh high boots. The one he adores. He’d growl if it wouldn’t give him away.

The contrast of you makes him dizzy, but he can’t lose focus. Not now. Not when you’re within range. His prey.

“The only thing that would devastate me is not getting to taste you in that.”

You cut off your own whimper rising in your throat. But he hears. He always hears.

“Bet you’re wet for me right now aren’t you, sweetheart?”

This time you can’t stop the whine. And he laughs as your crouched thighs begin to tremble against the heel of your boots.

“That’s what I thought.”

He reaches down for you through the swirls of fog and you bolt right before he can have you.

His fingerless glove clad hand recoils and he snarls with a rip of the chainsaw, piercing the air and it has your blood rushing as you run.

And he just manages to smack your ass with the taught leather as he struggles to catch you.

The sting rushing to your skin as your skirt flutters like butterfly wings with a nocturnal beast gnashing at your tail.

“Give me what I want before I take it from you.”

You grunt in frustration as you round the corner.

“Lose already, so I can,” he heaves a delighted sigh through an evil grin as he rolls his neck with a shudder, “reward you.”

You gulp down a groan as you weave through a confined space of…hanging corpses. Lifeless bodies strung up and your imagination reels. They feel like they’re writhing against you. Slimy and unmistakably dead as they swing and knock you off your feet until your shockingly stilled. An iron grip around your waist as he plunges out a trap door to you close enough to catch you and devour your neck in a kiss. The heat of the dying chainsaw searing your thigh. Enough to send sparks through you, but not to burn.

He’s pulling you back through the door before you can protest with a tight grip around your wrist as you’re pinned against the wall of the secluded secret room.

He’s buries his sharp nose in the soft skin of your neck, nuzzling deep with a dark inhale of his cologne on your throat has his eyes rolling back. His scent of whiskey, oak, and mulled cider marking you at your own accord and he loses his damn mind.

“What were you thinking, pretty girl?”

You know exactly what he implies. What were you thinking wearing that deliciously femme dress flowing in cascades over your curves against the harsh crisscross pattern choking your legs? To top it all off with a masculine musk that has him seeing stars. His scent.

The way you toy with his expectations of you revs his pulse like the trigger of the chainsaw dangling in between your legs. Pressed against your pussy. Waiting.

“I wasn’t,’’ you whisper against him.

He grins at your submission. So you’ll behave after all.

“I’ll make sure of that,” he promises with every intention to have you fucked dumb.

But how?

He leans in to press sweet kisses into your neck. The dull heat of the chainsaw in between your thighs causes your moan to shiver across his tongue.

He’d laugh if he wasn’t so floored by you.

Taking off his demin jacket and laying it out on the floor beneath you, he softly commands, “Get down.” Another kiss to the corner of your mouth. “On your knees.”

Weak in them already, the short drop to the floor at his feet is a welcome relief. You bask in his presence waiting for more, gripping the backs of his ankles as you peer up at him.

“I know you like this shit,” he revs the trigger with a quick pulse that sends your heart racing, “don’t you?”

Wide-eyed and feigned innocence, you softly nod before him.

“I know you do, baby. Listen to me.”

He cups your jaw with his hand, thumbing your cheek with nothing but devotion. You tremble at his exaltation. He means to comfort you before the final blow.

“Fuck yourself on it.”

He lowers the chainsaw in between your spread knees, pushing the blade in between your parted thighs. The smooth flat ridge of the handle covering the trigger rests inches below your throbbing cunt.

Your answer is in the string of arousal that drips from your spread lips over the trigger of the saw.

Levi’s dark laugh has you squeezing your thighs around the outside of the machine as he sits down in front, facing you with his back against the far wall and legs spread to cage you in with his bent knees at your hips. He’s close enough to see every detail.

He likes to watch after all.

Who are you to deny him a good show?

You splay your palms flat over your plush thighs and inch agonizingly upward, dragging your fingers over your bunched hem in a slow reveal.

With a slide of your finger, the first gift of the night is unwrapped, a black silk garter straining against the fat of your thigh and threatening to spill over.

You swear you can see Levi’s throat bob at your display while he looks on with a hunger that sets you ablaze.

Palming yourself further still, the skirt drapes back to reveal a full set of intricate criss crosses and…What were you fucking thinking?

His heads cocks to the side in shock. Eyes sliding to the center of you to find nothing there. Just your bare pussy drooling through the fishnets. You’re not wearing any panties and he just might die.

“What am I gonna do with you?” Fondness dripping his tone as he reaches up to cup your jaw and you nuzzle against his palm with a kiss to his wrist.

His thumb strokes you under your eye with a tenderness that could break your heart.

You whimper and his eyes turn black.

“M gonna make it all better for you, baby. Do you trust me?”

Your tiny nod has a possessiveness seeping into every one of his thoughts as he reaches for you only to catch one of the loops in the netting and pulls hard.

The rip of the fabric exposes your cunt to the chill of the house, creaking and alive with blares of traps and screams all around you.

As a red light pulses overhead you see him in strobing images, each more beautiful and devastating than the last as he stares at you with pure hunger. His jaw hangs and lips part taking the image of you in.

“Sit. Spread my pussy out for me.”

More drips down your legs at the words.

Obeying, you slot the handle in between your lips as they drape over the sides. The warmth of the saw has you gasping at the contact, but you find yourself getting hard with the heat. Clit swollen and twitching at every movement against the soft sear.

“You can take it, baby,” he hisses through his teeth in awe of you as you relax into his warm voice.

Levi takes your wrists and drapes them around his neck and you soothe yourself with the soft shave of his undercut. You lace your fingers into his dark strands and pull yourself forward to him, riding the handle of the chainsaw. Your shameless moan has him in a daze.

“My perfect girl,” he can still smell himself on you as you buck to him.

The glint and gleam of his piercings against the dull light compete with his eyes only for you lost in the black grime trailing down his cheeks.

He reaches around your hips, grabbing a palm full of your ass. He encourages a deeper slide against the metal and you cry out for him. You’re so wet he can hear every movement you make. The sound of your own slick getting you off in return.

As you look up to Levi he’s unzipping his pants and taking himself out. Pink and aching and horrible.

He strokes himself to you as his head falls back against the black wall with his eyes sitting low as you continue to fuck yourself in front of him.

The leather of his gloves ruined from his weeping head as his bare fingers slide faster with every pump.

Your nipples harden at the sight of him and you pull your neckline down for him to see. The drool pooling on your tongue falls as you salivate, coating your nipple with a whimper. They perk and glisten as Levi’s tongue darts out. He wants to taste, but let’s you work. You deserve to feel so good.

He groans at you. His star.

“Wanna fuck you with my cock, but I wouldn’t get the same view, now would I?”

Your panting picks up and you squeeze your thighs.

“Wouldn’t get to see all of you. How pretty you look…”

He leans in inches from your lips and catches them in a kiss.

A rumble erupts at your core as he pulses the trigger briefly beneath you, keening with your head thrown back. The vibrations of the saw sending your senses into overdrive as you fight to catch your breath. The thrill only mounting.

“Fuck, you like that don’t you? Of course you do. You’re mine.”

He revs it again for a longer pulse as your grind deepens and you have to grab his shoulder to steady yourself, gripping his bicep for dear life.

Your cry stifled by the chaos around you, but Levi sees it all unfold. Your parted lips in a scream and he’s already won.

“Lev’ it’s—fuck, so good—I wanna hah,” you beg and plead and it’s only fueling him to break you down to your most basic desires. To fuck and to be fucked. To twist and to writhe, and he’ll just look on and adore you like the art that you are.

“If you want to, don’t look away. Only me. Can you do that, my love?” He groans out on an exhale as he relentlessly works his cock. The flick of his wrist hypnotizing you. Precum smearing and his own thighs begin to shake.

“Don’t ever wanna—mmm—leave you. Never, never. Levi, you’re so, so—fuck, I…I,” you’re breathless, but somehow, “I love you.”

He presses the trigger into overdrive and you’re flying off the edge, tumbling and crashing into him. You can’t hear him say it over the cacophonous noise reverberating off the walls, but you see the tender I love you too flow from his lips with his eyes wide and glassy. The look he gives you could heal you and destroy you.

You want it all.

Your chest hitting his as you’re thrown from the machine crying out his name. You cum hard in waves and the scene brings him there as you shake in his arms. White dripping over his fist as he locks his dark eyes with you.

He promised he’d never look away.

Maybe you’ll learn to catch something as wild and unpredictable as smoke while he sinks into your eyes, spilling all his secrets in his stare.

***

Read Part I

I make Art too! Interested in a Commission?

Email me at lunebonesart@gmail.com, for a FREE Consultation & Quote!

View my Art Portfolio, Purchase Levi Prints or Merch HERE.

[claymorexpunisher]

Liberacion- Ch. 5/? (WWE Fic)(18+)

Summary: Harper and Drew started Liberacion as a way to heal and to help find healing as well. And it slowly became bigger than they could have ever imagined.

Main Pairings: Drew McIntyre/OFC, Damian Priest/OFC, Roman Reigns/OFC.

Side Characters: Mercedes Mone, Liv Morgan, Seth Rollins, Becky Lynch, and more.

Tags: 18+, mythical creatures!AU, praise kink, pegging, daddy kink, size kink, kink negotiation, consensual kink, consensual non-consent, BDSM, knife play, light blood play, bratting, hair-pulling, breeding kink, established relationships, abuse tw, mentions of abuse.

Disclaimer/Warning: This is purely a work of fiction. I try to do proper research whenever I write pieces that have to do with BDSM/Kink, but alas, I am not perfect. For fiction's sake, some aspects of BDSM and Kink will be a bit unrealistic and maybe even rushed, though I know that the foundation for these types of connections and dynamics to function properly, takes time... Feel free to leave me any feedback on areas of improvement. And if you wish to be untagged, please let me know. If this isn’t your kinda story, scroll on by. 🖤

Chapter Word Count: 524

For a moment I stared at Tatianna and Drew.

I watched their eyes anxiously scan the deep sapphire blue walls of my office in synchronized nervous movements before their eyes settled back on me.

My hands pressed onto the black desk in front of me, I squinted at my friends, thinking I surely heard them wrong.

“Sorry?” I asked as I tilted my head with a raised brow, waiting for them to clarify.

I wasn’t exactly a newbie to being a Domme.

But… but these are my friends.

Tati was like a sister to me.

I couldn’t possibly…

And there was also Drew’s troubling experience with his last “Domme”.

“Like Tee said… we trust you. There’s no one I’d feel more comfortable submitting to than you. It just makes sense. You know my story and I trust you not to push certain boundaries. And I love Tee -’’ Drew said as he eyed his girlfriend, and she finished his thought.

“But I’m just not Domme material.’’ Tati chuckled as did Drew and I.

I couldn’t argue with that.

I knew better than to judge a book by its cover when it comes to this lifestyle, but being as close as I am to the couple, the mere thought of Tati trying her hand at domination, especially where Drew is concerned, was more than a little amusing.

She isn’t exactly a pushover, she can be assertive when she needs to be.

But BDSM/Kink was a whole different ballgame.

It’s obvious that she much preferred to take a more submissive role in that department.

My eyes continued to ping-pong between Drew and Tatianna as I gathered my thoughts.

I let my eyes settle on Drew’s frame, his statuesque frame practically dwarfing the black desk chair.

There was complete sincerity in his eye and the sight made my heart swell.

Despite my hesitations, it was humbling to know that they both trusted me with something as special as complete and total submission.

I licked my lips, choosing my next words carefully.

“One month. 30 days. We’ll test this out. We won’t go all in at first. You and I have only watched each other in scenes and that’s obviously not the same thing as actively playing together. I wanna make sure we do this the right way. I’m sure you understand, D.” I said.

And he did.

Drew is one of the most well-known and respected Doms/Switches in the lifestyle and my initial hesitation really had nothing to do with not trusting him.

And despite wishing he hadn’t gone through the hell he went through with Monica, I knew that because of that, he knew what it was like to have certain boundaries crossed and I absolutely trusted him to honor whatever boundaries I set in place and I would do the same for him.

Truth be told, the fact that he was held in such high regard in the community, and he trusted me of all people with something like this was more than a compliment.

And it was… overwhelming too.

But it was decided.

For 30 days, Drew McIntyre’s mind, body, and soul, would be mine…

[heartfullofleeches]

Yandere Masochistic Dabi x healer reader (request)

A request off site for a masochistic Dabi

Tw: violence, masochism, blood kink if you squint mdni

Word count: 1.5k 

It was rare for you to leave your apartment nowadays. As the blue flamed villain’s backdoor nurse, your safety and the knowledge of your location were important. In the past, you had others appear on your doorstep. Hero, villain, or otherwise mattered not; only the length of their injuries. Countless broken bodied individuals in need of you aid; all frequent visitors vanishing when Dabi came until only, he remained – your only touch with the outside world. Painstaking hours of awaiting his return or call, and in the times, you had the freedom to leave it was hardly ever without eyes on you in any way, shape, or form. Which is why he was now trailing at your heels as you walked through dingy alleyways back home. 

A stalking issue is what led to your gain of a bodyguard, not that you hadn’t had that issue already. A shadow lingering outside your window, it’s aura not nearly as threatening as the shadow of death looming behind you. Dabi's lanky build towers over you; inches away from your back like a shadow. Hooded; one hand rests in his jacket pocket while the other loosely grips an unmarked plastic bag. In your hands lied a rectangular box with its lid torn open, and contents spilling onto the soiled streets as your blistered fingers fail to catch them. You retrieve one of the remaining bandages from the box – its blue hue causing your eyes to narrow. Carefully, you wrap it around your index finger; slowing down enough in the process that Dabi bumps into you. 

“Easy there.” He rumbles, pressing his palm to your shoulder to stabilize both him and yourself. “If you can wait till we get back, I don’t mind helping you out with that.” 

Not typically the type for the domestics, the thought of wrapping up your wounds in a brief moment of intimacy was nice to Dabi. Nearmt anything for you sounded nice. You straighten up, yanking your shoulder away with a rough jerk you think he doesn’t notice – but he does. It’s the little things, as they say. His lips pull into a smirk.  

“I’m fine. The air feels nice right now and I don’t want to go inside just yet.” 

“Would you like to do something else then?” 

“No, with you so quiet back there it’s almost like you aren’t even here.” 

Harsh; yet oh so bold. For you to talk to a guy that could turn you into ash in seconds; lighting the world ablaze in the process. It was – exhilarating for him. A jolt of electricity up his spine that kickstarted an urge like no other. To you, there was no point in beating around the bush which is why you were often vocal about your aversion for Dabi. It didn’t do much to deter him from you. In one case, you faintly recall a glint of desire in his eye as you berated him for showing up out of the blue injured like a wounded dog. 

“I'm just saying. We could use more time outside.” 

“I do, and I would get it if you weren’t monitoring my every move.” 

“I think I do a pretty good job at-" 

You hold your hand up, halting him in his tracks and train of speech. “Quiet.”  

You point forward. Standing behind your apartment building; head tilted to where yours sat on the second floor, was the figure you saw nights before. An unidentifiable male, from what the half mask he wore let you see. The midnight shines off an object he held.  You shift your footing, ready to return and flee before he spots you – but it’s too late for that. His head turns, eyes meeting yours for a brief moment – before they land on Dabi. 

“I thought I’d have to kidnap them before you’d show your face.” The stranger states, addressing him. “My brother was a patient of our doctor friend there, before you made them turn him away.” 

“I’m sure there’s a hospital nearby he could go to.” 

He doesn’t bother with a reply, instead choosing to charge at Dabi; steel pipe dragging behind and scrapping the ground. As he nears, Dabi lights the general area on fire, blue flames licking up the walls of nearby buildings and kissing the skies above. The man vanishes the second they reach him, his weapon clacking to the ground at Dabi's feet. Not even a spec of ash. He looks around the area, on guard for the next attack. He glances back at you, remembering he wasn’t alone in his equation and the other factor was almost more important than himself. 

You stood off to the side in the safety of the shadows, protected from his flames. Your eyes were highlighted in the dark, unblinking; observing. Like an eager visitor at a zoo. Like you knew what would happen next.  

And maybe you did. You did work on the man's brother after all.  

A grin splits across your face. Heat gathers around Dabi's feet, not from his own fire, but from faint spark of electricity spiking from the pipe on the ground. Something he notices a moment too late for him to react. 

The cold metal connects with his face, a staggered Dabi stumbling backwards and losing his footing over an unknown puddle on the street. His assailant stands over him, veins and bone visible through his skin as electricity surges from his body; arm connected to the pipe. Dabi's head spins. He looks up at the sky for balance, at you. Maybe the smile on your face was a figment of his imagination as you stare back with tight lips. Your eyes, however, remained the center point of where your emotions lie. An unwavering, demanding glare that boar into his mind. An expression with only one worded comparison.  

“Get the fuck up.” 

And so, he does. Anything for his baby. 

- 

Dabi closes his eye as you slap a bandage on his cheek, rubbing the adhesive into his skin. He sat shirtless on your couch, you tending to the few injuries gained in the fight. Drying blood clots tissue plugged up his nostrils, the brunt of the damage he received.  

“Hey, Doc. Can you fix this up for me?” He asks, pointing at his nose.  

You don’t even bother to look up. “No. You’ll be fine.”  

“I think it might be broken.” 

“If it was then I’d help you, but it’s not and would be a waste. I’m already getting a headache as it is.” Your quirk was like an exchange of sorts. A deep stabbed wound in place for a mere scratch for you. Even the deadliest of injuries was little more than a slap on the wrist or more closely, a sprained wrist. That didn’t mean you were ready to do it at any moment for any small injury.  

“Please?” He presses, placing his head on your arm. He knew your patience was running out. A moment he yearned for. 

You ball up your hand. “I said no.” 

“Pretty please?” 

Your fist connects with his face, head whipping back from the blow. The force is so powerful that he hears his neck crack as his head pivots on his spine.  The pain hits fast, blooming from his nose to the rest of his face. The small stream of blood from it becomes a river, gushing down over his lips. He feels the beat of his hurt with every throb of his definitely broken nose, thumping even harder as his bloodshot eats gaze into yours. 

“I think that is warranted for a fix, but I’m not sure if you even want it.” 

The first time he begged you to hurt him, you thought it was a test. To see if you had the guts to try something. You were so pissed off at him; the man that stole your freedom and trapped you like a bird that you didn’t care. The groan of pleasure that left his lips filled you with so much disgust that you did it again.  

And again.  

At first it was just about getting your frustrations out, even if he found ecstasy in it. As time went on, the fire behind your blows came from somewhere deeper; darker. You started to enjoy it. His body crumpled on the floor, stuck on you like a lifeline. The sight of any new wound he came for you to heal. Pain was the thing that bounded you to Him, both his and yours. You’d comply with his demands for affection as long as if gave into yours for affliction, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. The hurt just another form of love for him. 

Dabi gives you one of his famous shit eating grins, blood dripping onto his teeth. He smears it across them with his tongue, sticking it out for you to see the weight of your damage. If you had to give him any compliments, his blood was beautiful; a mixture of it and saliva rolling down his chin. 

“Not just yet.” 

He pulls you in, a new branch of pain forming as your nose crashes against his as jams his lips towards yours. Hot blood; passion reaches your mouth as he kisses you, coating your bottom lip in every part of him. It was disgusting – he was disgusting. He’d let you devour him if you’d so please. 

You bite down on the wet muscle slipping through, earning an open mouth moan from Dabi. 

 And maybe one day you will.  

[mylittlesyn]

Premise: You go to visit a friend to tell them about your experience and more domestic moments ensue with Yuuji. Sukuna asks you out on a date, but things get far more serious than you bargained for.

TW: Incest, anal, blood, those are the major ones, I'll add more when I'm not exhausted tomorrow.

MasterPost

You watched Tora start to share the toys he brought with Anri, Toge watching the both of them. He signed something to Shieri, with her quickly signing back. Their faces were always so expressive when they signed to each other, something you watched in fascination. Shieri turned to you with a smile on her face, bright green eyes watching you. “Anri’s gotten big. Her eyes look like they’re turning purple…” I hummed while watching Tora hug Anri. “Look, look, look.” You tapped Shieri’s shoulder before pointing at the both of them. Pulling out your phone, you snuck a photo of the both of them, Toge in the background of the frame. With a smile on your face, you texted the photo to Yuuji, with the caption: “Look at how cute!!! <333” 

“Maybe we should give them some privacy…” She teased, which made you laugh as you put your phone away. 

“Ok… So… You still hold your promise to not judge my sexcapades… Right?” I reminded, watching her smirk and rest her cheek on her fist. 

“Of course… What did you get into now?” She asked. 

"So.... You know how Yuuji has an older brother that looks just like him?” You questioned, waiting for her to nod. Once she did, you continued. "Well it turns out that they actually used to be close when Yuuji was younger.... Like close close." 

“Ok… Elaborate.” She squinted her eyes and leaned in a bit with both forearms on the table. 

“Alright.” You breathed in with a sharp inhale, gathering your courage. “So…” You bit the corner of your lower lip.”Sukuna taught Yuuji how to masturbate…” You confessed while fidgeting in your seat. 

“That’s normal for an older brother, isn’t it?” She contemplated while sitting back in her chair.

“Well…” You dragged out the word while shrugging a bit. “It seems he was a little more… Hands on.” You explained while pursing your lips to hide your smile. 

“Oh!... Ooooh…” She chuckled to herself before smiling and leaning in some more again. 

“Yeah.” You bit your entire lower lip while contemplating how much to divulge. You peeked behind her, checking in on Toge, Tora, and Anri. Though Toge couldn’t talk, you knew he could hear, and you were debating how much to say. “I guess Sukuna let Yuuji hide in his closet and watch… While he enjoyed himself with other women…” You explained with a quieted voice. 

“Toge’s fine, don’t worry about him.” Shieri waved him off as she continued to stare at you, waiting for more. “So like a threesome, or just watching?”

“Just watching… Yuuji was still a virgin when I met him, remember? But… He did ask me to join in a threesome with his brother.” You admitted. 

“Yes, sorry. I got a bit excited, ignore me.” She chuckled. “How do you feel about it though?” 

“Well… I’ve already agreed to it…” You shrugged while trying to contain your smile as you caught a glance of Tora playing with Anri. “We’ve done it twice already.” 

“Oh, nice. Are you nervous?” 

“At first I was.” You confessed while shrugging. “You know I was never his biggest fan.Total asshole.” You explained, watching her nod in agreement. 

“And now?” She tilted her head with a smile that you knew was trying to coax you into revealing more. 

“He’s… Gotten a little softer around the edges. It was bumpy at first. I mean…” You raised your brows while looking down at your forearm, recalling the few fights that broke out between siblings. “Yuuji almost beat him up and I slapped him…” You looked back up at her to see her eyes had widened. “But once we set some ground rules… It actually worked out pretty nicely. In fact… Turns out Yuuji has a daddy kink.” You pursed your lips trying to contain your smile some as Shieri let out a chuckle. 

“That sounds like quite a ride. It’s interesting though, I never took either of them for the type.” Her voice was relaxed. It was a little nerve wracking at first talking about something so taboo, even to someone you considered your best friend. Now with the way she made you feel at ease and her own enthusiasm, you felt it a lot easier to discuss more details. 

“It’s been… Very interesting. First time I was the focus, which I expected. What I didn’t expect was, Sukuna to kiss Yuuji so deeply when I asked him to. So last night I suggested to make Yuuji the center. Yuuji in me, and Sukuna in Yuuji. I honestly didn’t think he’d go for it, but maybe it’s just a them thing…?” 

“It’s probably just between them two. But, like, are you ok with this? What if it continues? Or goes further? Are you ok with sharing Yuuji like that?” She wondered as her brows knit upwards in concern. 

“Yeah… I’m fine with it. I’m pretty confident in how much Yuuji loves me.” You smiled before shrugging and tucking your hair behind your ear. “Besides, I’m also being shared and Yuuji and I talked about it. About him being shared too… Just to make sure we’re on the same page.” You insisted. “But I don’t want to stop either! It’s too good! Having a dom and a sub? Hell, I even got Sukuna to feed alongside Yuuji.” You felt your cheeks grow warm at remembering them both sucking your nipples, milk dribbling down their chins. 

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. Just remember to keep up the open communication.” She smiled wide before peeking over her shoulder. You looked back as well to see Tora playing with Anri, both of them working together to build a block tower. Tora was standing up tall with Anri passing along the blocks from the pile. Toge was watching the tower carefully, making sure that it wouldn’t spill over onto his daughter. “Should we join them?” Shieri wondered while peeking out at you. 

“Yeah.” You smiled wide, scooting the chair out as you both joined the three of them on the floor. Toge held out his arm, Shieri sitting in front of him with his chin resting on her shoulder. He tucked her hair behind her ear, pressing a kiss to her neck. Her eyes closed as she relaxed into him. His finger traced along her bare shoulder, almost as if she was writing something as he avoided the strap of her tank top. You couldn’t quite make out what he wrote, but she leaned her head back and pressed a kiss to his cheek. The curious face tattoos moved with his smile. Those purple eyes squeezed shut and curved with his smile. With the way they looked at each other, it was clear how smitten they were. 

The vibration of your phone pulled you away from such cuteness, and when you saw it was the one who had you smitted, you answered quickly. “Hey… What’s up?” 

“I’m heading over there.” He spoke rather loudly, Megumi crying in the background. 

“What’s wrong?” You questioned, your brows furrowing and your fingers running along Tora’s hair almost instinctively as you worried. 

“When was the last time you pumped?” He questioned with Megumi cries getting louder. You tried to remember the last time you pumped, but all you could remember was either Megumi breastfeeding or Yuuji (or Sukuna) relieving the pressure themselves. 

“I suppose it has been a while…” You murmured. 

“What?!” You heard him ask before hearing some ruffling. 

“What about the freezer?” You wondered while getting up and walking towards the entrance.” 

“No… What was left was no good. Past the dates. We need to make sure to put the newest in the back.” He explained with Megumi finally starting to quiet. “I know you don’t want to get her used to formula, so I’m just heading over… I’ll be there in a bit.” 

“Ok… I love you.” You smiled. “And sorry about the freezer… I’ll try to do better about remembering.” 

“It’s alright. I’ll check them once in a while too. Love you.” He finished before he hung up.  

“Everything alright?” Shieri called out, Toge watching you as well. 

“Yea… I guess it’s been a while since I’ve had to pump, staying home and all, so Yuuji is coming over with Megumi.” You elaborated. 

“Oh, it’ll be nice to see her.” Shieri smiled, Toge matching hers. 

“Gumi?” Tora looked up at you, crawling on your lap once you sat back on the ground. 

“Yeah, daddy is bringing your sister over.” You ruffled up Tora’s hair before slipping the tiger hood up. He smiled wide and jumped in place. His tiny hands went to my cheeks, cupping my face in his hands. His expression grew serious, and it had me getting a little concerned. 

“If Toge is time out, he can’t play.” He whispered, mispronouncing a couple of the words. The words he spoke made you purse your lips, trying to stop yourself from laughing. Once you contained yourself, you took a deep breath to finally speak. 

“What makes you think Toge is in time out?” You wondered while stealing a glance at Toge and Shieri who were both trying to hold back their own laughter. 

“No speaking.” He pointed back at Toge as he mentioned his reasoning, this time with all three of you being unable to contain your laughter. 

“Sweetie, no.” You finally spoke once you calmed. “Toge can’t speak because he has no voice, not because he’s in time out.” You tried to explain, unsure if he would understand. His eyes widened as he stared back at Toge. While tilting your head a bit, you waved for Toge to come closer. With a nod, he crawled on all fours before sitting in front of you and Tora. Shieri placed Anri onto her lap, running her fingers through the white locks as Anri’s green eyes watched the three of you. You took one of Tora’s hands and placed it onto Toge’s throat before placing the other hand on yours. “Do you feel how when I talk, there’s a vibration in my neck? And when Toge tries to talk, there isn’t?” You watched Tora try to understand as you continued to hum, making noise for him to feel. 

Just as he was starting to get it, there was a knock at the door. You grabbed Tora in your arms as you took him with you to answer the door, certain that it was Yuuji and Megumi. When you opened the door, Tora reached out and placed his hand on Yuuji’s neck. “It’s good to see you too buddy…” Yuuji shook his head before retreating back to pull the carrier off of the stroller attachment, bringing Megumi inside. You placed Tora on the ground before turning to Shieri. 

“Is it ok if I… Right here?” You asked while holding the hem of your top.

“Yeah… That’s fine.” She shared a sympathetic smile before you turned to the couch and pulled your top off before sitting down. Yuuji cradled Megumi in his arms as you slid one of the straps off from your bra, pulling the breast out of the cup. Megumi started to fuss and stir before spitting out the pacifier, with her quickly starting to cry and yell again. 

“I know, I know, I ran over here ok? Mommy is right here.” Yuuji cooed while passing Megumi to you, with her quickly latching. Just as a chill hit from the cool air seeping in, Yuuji placed the feeding blanket around your shoulders. He sat down next to you after pressing a kiss to your forehead, wrapping his arm around you, almost like he was trying to warm you. With a smile on your face, you rested your head on his shoulder, watching Megumi’s eyes that matched your husband’s. The little leftover fussiness that she had faded away as she fed, finally relaxing and starting to fall asleep. 

Once she was fully out, you carefully got up and placed her in the carrier. After tucking your breast back into the cup and sliding the bra strap back on your shoulder, you took the blanket and tucked her in. Shieri crouched behind you, taking a peek. “She’s so cute.” She whispered. 

“She is…” You smiled wide. Tora came around, pulling Anri by the hand and taking her up to the carrier. Shieri moved out of the way, giving them both the space and watching with curiosity. 

“This is my sister.” He declared while pointing at Megumi and looking at Anri. “She sleeps n’ poops.” All of you giggled as Tora let go of Anri he came around as you walked back to the couch to grab your top, quickly putting it on. Tora tugged at the hem of it. “I’m hungry.” He looked up at you while holding his hands in front of himself. If you knew better, you would say he looked rather nervous. 

“Um…” You looked up at Shieri to see Toge signing to her, with her signing a couple things back. “Toge said he was about to start dinner, and that you’re more than welcome to join us.” 

“That’s very kind, but I left something cooking in the instapot.” Yuuji bowed as you reached out for his hand. 

“Another time.” You bowed your head as Shieri signed to her husband. 

“Another time.” 

“Yuuuuuujiiiiiii…” You called out while staring at the text on your phone as you fed Megumi. 

“Yes?” Yuuji peeked around from the sink area in your master bedroom. 

“Sukuna’s texting me.” You replied while trying to interpret what exactly was going on. 

“So?” 

“It’s weird… He’s asking what my favorite type of fish to eat is…” 

“Well, tell him it’s buri.” He mentioned just as you were already doing so. 

“I am… It’s just really random.” You mumbled as you felt him nearing. Sukuna quickly replied with: “Cool, mine is aji.” Just as you were about to ask him why he was questioning you about this, he sent another text. 

You: Yeah… And you do questionable things… Right?

Sukuna: So you’re like a science person, right?

Sukuna: Delete that. Now.

You: Alright, alright.

You deleted the last few messages from your phone.

You: Yes, I’m a scientist. Yuuji and I don’t read each other’s texts either way. We respect each other’s privacy. 

Sukuna: It’s not something that should be recorded anywhere.

You: Valid point. Why are you texting me?

Sukuna: Because I can do what I fucking want.

“Is he still messaging you?” Yuuji wondered, trying to peek at your phone, but you rested it on your chest next to Megumi’s head. 

“Yes, don’t look!” You huffed, but he just blinked at you. 

“I just want to know what he’s saying.” He whined with his brows knitting upwards. 

“And I will tell you, but don’t go sneaking a peek.” You scolded, before he suddenly cracked up laughing. His hand smoothed over your cheek and threaded into your hair to pull you into a kiss. 

“I’m not a child to be scolded. I’m your husband.” He murmured against your lips. 

“Then why do you call me mommy?” You teased, watching his lips curl up into a grin. He pressed another kiss to your lips before cradling Megumi in his arms. She stirred a bit during the exchange, but Yuuji always somehow managed to keep her fast asleep. Your phone had been buzzing the entire time. 

              What is it you were working on?

Sukuna: So you like doing that science stuff? 

              Hello? 

      Are you still there…?

You: Yeah I’m still here. Was putting Megumi to sleep. Yeah, I enjoy it. I work with an antibody company, so a science product. I work to help people figure out why the product isn’t working. I get to tell people what they did wrong.

“He’s asking more about my job.” You mumbled with Yuuji turning off the light in your bedroom. 

“Does he want to invest or something?” He asked while crawling into bed. 

“Nah…” You waved him off with a snicker. “It’s almost like he’s just… Trying to get to know me…” You shrugged as Yuuji curled into your side. 

“Well that’s a good thing.” He hummed while pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

Sukuna: Telling people what to do is always nice.

You: I’m sure you’re plenty familiar with that… I should know

Sukuna: Oh I know you do… Would you like to go out for dinner…? Just you and me?

“He asked me out…” You informed after swallowing hard. 

“Like… On a date?” Yuuji asked while lifting his head to look at you. 

“Yeah…? I can tell him no-”

“I think it’s a great idea!” He chimed before resting his head back into your shoulder. “I want you two to get along, and not just when I’m around…” He explained while hooking his leg over yours while you wrapped your arm around him. 

“Alright… I’ll tell him yes.” You agreed while sending him the message. 

Sukuna: Good. I’ll plan something for Thursday night.

“Alright… Thursday.” You declared while placing your phone on the wireless charger on the nightstand. 

“Yeah…” You felt him smile against your breast. “Thursday.” 

You pulled up your stapless, dark, sparkly, purple dress before cupping underneath your breasts to finish with the last adjustment. While grabbing your black clutch, you tossed in your keys, phone, wallet, and coin purse just to be sure. Looking into the mirror by the door, you curled your finger under your eyelashes, trying to give one last adjustment before waiting for Sukuna by the door. 

“Relax… He’ll probably be late…” Yuuji consoled while carrying Tora on his shoulders. 

“Please make sure you don’t hit his head.” You planted a peck onto Yuuji’s cheek, painting his skin with a purple lipstick stain. Your purple lips accentuated and matched your dress while your barely there eyeshadow accentuated the crease in your brow. You admired the purple lipstick stain on his carmel colored skin, enjoying every moment left with him.

“Go… Enjoy yourself.” He hummed while holding your coat for you. 

“You said he’s going to be late… Let me enjoy you a little longer.” You smiled as he draped the coat over your shoulders. He tugged the coat towards himself at your words, and you rested your head on his shoulder. The warmth from him felt comforting, the tender loving care from your husband was reassuring, and it always made you feel ready to take on the world. Coming from behind Yuuji, you heard Megumi stirring in the baby monitor, so started to move towards the stairs, but Yuuji quickly stopped you. 

“I’ll go…” He smiled and placed a kiss on your cheek and you snuck the baby monitor away from him. Sitting back on the couch, you took out your phone and listened to the baby monitor. You could head Yuuji groaning as he picked up Megumi, humming a tune in his head. “My forehead near your ear, since you’re kind of tall” You could hear Megumi giggling as Yuuji continued. 

“I’m a rhinoceros beetle, drawn in by your sweet smell

Shooting stars fall, a happy yet painful ache in my chest

I’ll never forget this for the rest of my life

I’ll never forget this for the rest of my life” He sang to your daughter, the music choice was a bit odd, but not unfamiliar to you, him enjoying Aiko before. This was the first time you listened to the lyrics, it sounded something like a love song. The song went on with Yuuji singing quietly, your cheeks warming up bit by bit. You knew how much of a great father he was, but it was candid moments like this that you truly savored, that made your heart swell. 

It felt like many moments past when Yuuji finally came back downstairs. Still you acted as if though unfazed, the baby monitor on the couch beside you. You knew he was down here to check on you. Gauging your emotional state as he deep cleansed the kitchen. You continued to fiddle with your phone, browsing memes on social media as you observed him watching you from the corner of your eye. You knew that he could very easily be watching Megumi upstairs in your room, but here he was using a broom to clean any dust on the ceiling as you continued to wait for Sukuna. 

The thought of your caring husband going to such lengths had you huffing through your nostrils, your breath growing heavy as you grew teary eyed. Why was he late? How could you be so utterly wrong about something? You felt it… When he was staring into your eyes, rutting his hips into Yuuji, you knew with all of your soul the way he stared at you, he wished he was inside you at that moment. Looking at your husband, a tear escaped. There Yuuji was, scrubbing the sink with a brush and you started wondering why any of that ever even mattered to you. You had the most loving husband anybody could possibly ever have, how could you even be thinking about Sukuna? These thoughts swirled through your mind and somehow you ended up crying even more. 

“Hey!” Yuuji called out before rushing up to you. His hands immediately cupped your face, thumbs moving under your lids to catch the tears. “Don’t cry…” He grumbled while kneeling before you. Letting your eyes close at the feeling of his warm hands on your cheeks, you rested your hands on his wrist. You felt his soft lips press to your forehead, soothing act calming you. 

“I’m alright.” You murmured as your eyes fluttered open. He lifted your chin, having you look into those honey eyes, but they were a bit more hardened than you were used to. 

“No… I’m going to punch him.” Yuuji huffed. 

“Yuuji, it’s fine-” You shook your head before he interrupted you. 

“No, nobody stands up my wife.” His jaw clenched and was speaking with such a passion and authority you rarely got to see in him. It made you purse your lips as you tried to contain a smile. Just then a knock at the door distracted Yuuji enough to stop him from saying anything further. When he answered the door you could tell he was about yell at his brother, but he stopped dead in his tracks. The usually tanned skin was now a shade or two paler, so you crept up behind him at the door. 

There stood Sukuna with his hands battered. His right brow was split and there was dried blood on his eyelid. The face he wore though, broke your heart. He hung his head, jaw clenched with an air of shame. “Yuuji, go get the first aid kit.” You instructed while rubbing his back. After a brief moment, Yuuji nodded and ran upstairs. You calmly led Sukuna inside, closing the door behind you both, noticing the blood stained on his white button up as you helped him out of his peacoat. “Are you alright?” You asked quietly near his ear as you ushered him into the kitchen. 

“Yeah…” He grumbled as you wet a cloth with warm water, tilting his up to get a better view under his brow. With delicate hands, you pat the cloth on his brow, stopping when his hissing grew too much. 

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” You questioned after finishing wiping the dried blood from his eyelid. His face turned away from you, so instead of making him face you, you started cleaning his knuckles. 

“An underling thought he saw me in enemy territory… The pink hair… Obviously it wasn’t me, but…” He groaned before hissing as you cleaned the knuckle attached to his forefinger. 

“Are we safe?” You asked before he took his hand back. It was the first time he looked you in the eyes, his hand gripping your chin. Those red eyes darted between the both of yours before pressing a tender kiss on your lips. 

“Yes.” He breathed, his forehead resting against yours as your hand with the damp cloth rested on his thigh. There was blush on your cheeks and as he parted, his thumb brushed over it. “I didn’t mean to make you cry…” He frowned before nuzzling his cheek against yours. “At least not like that.” He smirked against your ear. You lightly pushed back on his chest with a smile before finishing wiping his knuckles. 

“Here.” Yuuji came down the stairs holding out the first aid kit. You took it, opening it up before grabbing a q-tip and smearing some antibiotic onto it. “You alright?” Yuuji asked as you placed antibiotic onto Sukuna’s knuckles. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just something went wrong at a pachinko.” Sukuna shrugged it off as your face soured. It wasn’t like you to play along like this and deceive your husband, but you also knew it wasn’t your place… It wasn’t your secret to tell. Yuuji placed his hand on Sukuna’s thigh, his eyes looking up at his older brother almost the way he did you. 

“I worry about you sometimes…” Yuuji mumbled before taking the q-tip you handed him, going to toss it in the trash as you placed some cut cotton pads on his knuckles before securing it with medical tape. 

“You should be fine to take those off tomorrow morning, just make sure you keep it clean…” You instructed while grabbing a new q-tip. “Yuuji baby, can you get him a clean button up?” You pleaded while glancing at your husband who smiled lovingly at you. He placed a kiss on your cheek with his hands lingering along your waist as you moved to place some antibiotic on his split eyebrow. 

“You promise we’re safe?” You questioned after you heard Yuuji finish climbing up the stairs. 

“Yes, of course… That’s partly what caused the fight. I had to pretend he was an idiot for thinking I would be the only man in Tokyo with pink hair. He spoke back, was unruly… I took a hit while putting him in his place.” Sukuna explained as your stomach churned a bit. Your lips turned into a frown while examining his eyebrow. 

“I don’t like this…” You warned while pinching the eyebrow wound closed. He took in a sharp inhale as you did this before grimacing. 

“The injury or the-” 

“Both.” You huffed. He looked down to his lap where you rested your hands on his knees. “You need stitches… I don’t actually have a medical license-” 

“No hospitals.” He warned while looking up into your eyes with a scowl. 

“Yuuji!” You called out, waiting to hear your husband respond. 

“Yeah?!” You heard a response from a distance. 

“Can you bring down super glue if we have some?!” You shouted while tilting up Sukuna’s face with your fingers under his chin. “It’ll scar your pretty face.” You warned with a smirk. 

“Will you still kiss it?” He tilted his head back to look down at you. 

“Really…? A pick up line?” You raised your brows with a scoff. Without warning he hooked his hand on the back of your neck and pressed his lips to yours. The grip you held on his knees grew tighter, your chest pressing up against his. It was easy to lean into him. It felt natural. When he let you pull away, you could see the lipstick smears on his face. The smirk behind them was what caught your attention. 

“It’s fine… Can you fix it?” He whispered in your ear before nibbling on the lobe. Your hand instinctively moved to the injured cheek, brushing your thumb over it gently. 

“If we have superglue I can.” You murmured before hearing Yuuji’s feet hitting the first few steps. Without another thought you pulled away. It almost felt like you had been caught… But this is what Yuuji wanted. Right…?

“I found some super glue.” Yuuji chimed before placing it beside the first aid kit. “But what’s it for?” He wondered, his mouth forming an o as his head tilted to the side. Taking the super glue in your hands, you carefully removed the cap and placed a dab right in the middle of the cut with Sukuna hissing in response. Cautiously, you pinched it closed without letting your fingers get too close to the glue. If you looked close enough, you could see the brow hair get caught in the glue, which you knew would hurt later on, but… You thought that would be adequate punishment for the entire ordeal. Once you felt the glue holding the skin together without your fingers needing to hold it in place, you finally let go. 

“Shit.” He cursed under his breath, his hand moving to his face but you quickly slapped it away. 

“Don’t touch it, you might get your fingers stuck and I’ll have to do it all over again.” You warned while waggling your finger. He tried to stifle a sigh, rolling his eyes in the process. “You really don’t want to test me right now.” You growled while the grip on his knee you still held grew tighter. The signature cocky grin that Sukuna had spread across his face and made you roll your own eyes before shaking your head. Without even realizing it, you stumbled a step back into your husband, his hands finding themselves on your waist. Relaxation consumed you, and as your body relaxed into him, you started to unbutton the bloodied button up. 

Your hands smoothed over the defined tattooed shoulders as you helped him take off his button up. Yuuji’s hands rested at your hips, his lips pressing to your neck as your hands cupped Sukuna’s face. Sukuna’s hands rested on your wrists, with you leaning in to press a kiss to his lips. His tongue slid in, with one of his hands threading into your hair. The kiss grew needy, an air of fervor as his hand grew tense on the back of your neck. Placing your hands on his chest, you created space between you both to part the kiss. “I’m going to go fix my make up.” You informed before heading upstairs. 

You had just finished dinner with Sukuna, sitting in the private room, side by side in Shunbou. His hand lingered on your calf, his lips hovering over your ear lobe and the skin of your neck. Those teeth grazed at your lobe, his other hand cradling your neck as you grew limp at his touch. “Kuna…” You whispered. 

“Yes, say it again.” He breathed, his smirk tracing along your jaw.

“Kuna, wait.” You pressed your hands against his chest as he continued to press kisses and nip at your neck. 

“Run away with me.” He pleaded after pulling away. Your eyes darted between his while widening. He wore a soft smile, his hands tracing along your skin, moving up to cup your face. 

“What?!” You exhaled, breathless in disbelief. Brows furrowing as you started to shake your head, he remained with a firm hold on your face. 

“Run away with me.” He repeated before pressing a kiss to your lips. You quickly created distance between the both of you, his face no longer looking softened. His eyes widened in panic, his mind racing a mile a minute before you. Slowly the panic started to turn to anger as he let go of you with his hands turning to fists. 

“Sukuna, what’s going on? You know I’m married to your brother, that I love your brother. I love my two children. I’m not just going to abandon them.” You reasoned, his fists slowly unfurling. As you thought he was finally starting to relax, he grabbed onto his coat, slipping it on once he stood tall. “Sukuna!” You called out while rapidly rising and placing a hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it off and started to head towards the door while adjusting the jacket. “Wait!” You cried while running to the door before him, blocking him from leaving. 

Just as he reached out to push you aside by your shoulder, you cupped his face in your hands. “Sukuna…” You whispered, staring into those angry red eyes. “Just because I love my husband doesn’t mean…” You trailed off as you watched his brows relax. His hands moved to your wrists, lowering your hands, still holding them. 

“You feel something.” He murmured to himself.

“Let’s go home and talk about this with Yuuji, ok?” You urged, watching his jaw clench and unclench. Staring him down, you finally watched him nod, letting go of your hands to leave to settle the bill. With the awkward silence settling between you both, he held your hand while guiding you out of the restaurant. Before you knew it, he was pulling you towards some shops. It was about an hour before closing, and it seemed like he had his sights set on somewhere in particular, though you couldn’t place where that was. It wasn’t until he stopped in front of the door that you saw you were standing in front of Cartier’s. “Sukuna, why are we-” 

You stopped upon being greeted by one of the store clerks. His gentle tugs lead you to the ring section, with him looking at each of them. “I understand you’re his…” He grumbled. “Isn’t this supposed to be the three of us?” He whispered in your ear, with you being able to feel the frown on his lips. That’s when it finally clicked with you. 

Sukuna felt left out.

It was probably the first time he had ever had any deep feelings for anyone, and you were already married to his brother. Of course he was acting strangely. Turning your head just enough, you placed a kiss on his cheek. “I want to pick one for you.” You murmured against his skin. That cheek grew warmer under your lips, his blush making you smile. While giving him the respect you knew he desired, you turned away from him without looking at him with those cheeks you knew were rosy. Instead you turned to the glass cases, looking through the rings. It was when you found a trinity ring that you knew was perfect. It was three simple strands of white gold, rose gold, and yellow gold all intertwined. It was you, it was Yuuji, and it was him. “Could we see that one, please?” 

The woman with long brown hair took the ring out from the glass case, placing it before both of you. Sukuna approached and took the ring, placing it onto his ring finger. It fit perfectly. You nodded, letting the lady know that you would be taking it. “Now for yours.” He kissed just behind your ear with his hand lingering on your hip. 

“I think the third date is a little soon for you to be getting me a ring.” You teased while resting on the case behind you. “Besides…” You quieted while smoothing your hands over his chest as you neared. “Don’t get anything for me until you’re ready to do it for Yuuji too.” You whispered while watching his response. He softened, his eyes growing half lidded as his hands rested over your curves. Nuzzling into him, his hands slid over the small of your back. A soft kiss to his neck before pulling away to pay for the ring. 

You knew it would be tight, paying for the ring. Taking out the card you rarely used, you paid for it… Or at least were trying to. Sukuna placed his hand over yours, stopping you. “No.” You stood up straight, puffing your chest out, and snatching your hand from under his. “It’s our commitment. That means I pay for it.” You snapped before smiling to the store clerk and handing her your card. Sukuna clicked his tongue behind you before wandering off, with the store clerk assisting you in your purchase. She took the ring and placed it into red leather box with black velvet interior. Seemingly apt for his tastes. 

Yuuji and you would need to budget a little more this month, and he would likely need to teach a few more classes this month. It was also going to mean Sukuna would have to pay for any night out that either of you had, but it was something that you knew in the long run… Would be worth it. When you finished with the ring, tucking the box away into your clutch, you noticed Sukuna shaking the hand of the other store clerk. Before you could start to speculate, he was already facing you with his hands in his pockets. “Ready?” 

“You’re back!” Yuuji chimed while getting up from the couch, the movie he was watching continuing to play in the background. You quickly hugged your husband and pressed a peck to his lips. When you pulled back your smile started to fade. Tugging him onto the couch, you sat before him with one hand on his knee as Sukuna sat behind you. “What’s wrong…?” Yuuji questioned, a frown tugging at the edge of his lips. 

“We have to talk…” You started while reaching behind you for Sukuna’s hand. “All three of us.” You clarified. Yuuji backed into the corner of the couch, you growing closer as Sukuna sat on the chaise section, on the other side of Yuuji. “Sukuna and I…” You pursed your lips, concern settling through you as you tried to speak the next words. “We’ve developed feelings for each other.” You admitted, Yuuji’s frown turning into a smile. 

“That’s great!” He chimed, cupping your face in his hands as he pressed a kiss to your lips before doing the same to Sukuna. He took one of your hands in his, doing the same with Sukuna, his eyes trying to figure out where he wanted to look as he kept switching between the two of you. 

“Well… I think Sukuna has been feeling a little left out, and maybe misplacing some of those feelings onto a relationship between him and I… Instead of all three of us.” You elaborated, Sukuna clicking his tongue before standing up and crossing his arms over his chest while taking a few steps away. Yuuji’s brows knitted upwards as his lips parted while he processed the information. 

“What do you mean… The two of you…?” Yuuji asked quietly. 

“Why are you talking about this?” Sukuna huffed while peering at you from over his shoulder. 

“Yuuji and I tell each other everything. It will be alright.” You assured before turning back to your husband. “He asked me to run away with him.” You confessed as Sukuna stomped off to the kitchen. Those light colored eyes of your husband grew wider before they started to grow a little watery. While scrambling, you moved to straddle him, cupping his face in your hands. “Hey…” You whispered in his ear. “I’m here, aren’t I?” You cooed, him slowly resting his hands on your waist. 

“Tell me, has Sukuna ever had a serious relationship before?” You asked, his head shaking in response as you heard cabinets clamoring in the kitchen. “Don’t you think it’s possible, he just doesn’t know how to handle his emotions?” You questioned before pulling away enough to see his face. 

“Where’s the liquor?” Sukuna called out from the kitchen. That alone was enough to get Yuuji’s shoulders to relax. 

“In the cabinet above the fridge.” Yuuji replied before sharing a half smile with you. 

“I think he needs you to know that you love him…” You pursed your lips, still getting used to such taboo. “In a way that’s more than he knows…” You reached behind you to your clutch. Pulling out the familiar red leather box, you showed Yuuji what was inside. “It’s going to make it a little tight for us for a bit but… I think it’s worth it.” Yuuji took the ring with his fingers, a small smile lingering on those precious lips. 

“I like it.” He stated before placing it back into the box and pressing a kiss on your cheek. With a hand on your waist, he helped you up before the both of you joined Sukuna in the kitchen. He stepped past you, standing in front of his brother, with you getting a bit of a side view as you leaned up against the fridge. “Kuna… My feelings for you aren’t just…” Yuuji’s eyes drifted to his brothers lip’s, his gaze entranced by them as he trailed off. His hand went to the back of Sukuna’s neck before pulling him in for a kiss. Their lips touched, one molding over the other as you could see the tension in Yuuji’s wrist as he held the ring box in his other hand. Sukuna started to lean into the kiss, his hand gripping tightly to Yuuji’s hip. They parted with a whine from Yuuji, their lips hovering near each other as their breaths lingered between. 

“You are a part of us now…” Yuuji opened the box and took the ring, placing it in Sukuna’s hand before closing it. You neared both of them, placing one hand onto each of the smalls of their backs while watching Sukuna place the ring onto his finger. 

“Sorry the ladies might think you’re married now…” You teased, only he didn’t laugh. Instead, he grew serious as he twisted the ring on his finger while staring at it. 

“I haven’t slept with anyone since last time…” Sukuna admitted. You cupped his face in your hands for a moment, pressing a tender kiss to his lips before Yuuji pressed one to his cheek. All three of you were so close to each other, Sukuna’s forehead resting against the both of yours. 

“We want you… What do you want?” Yuuji asked, his hand smoothing over his brother’s cheek. 

“I… I want to make love to your wife.” He said as Yuuji’s eyes widened before looking down. You smoothed over your husband’s back, soothing him. 

“I don’t think I’m ready to sit by and watch…” Yuuji admitted as you placed a kiss on his temple. 

“So if you were involved it would be ok?” You wondered as Sukuna watched Yuuji closely. 

“I mean…” Yuuji shrugged while pushing his mouth to the side. 

“What if…” You took a step back to gauge their reactions. “This time… Sukuna was in the middle.” You suggested, Yuuji growing a grin as Sukuna’s jaw tightened. “You’ll still be in control, anything you say goes…. Right Yuuji?” You encouraged as Sukuna shook his head. Yuuji crept up to his older brother, starting to press kisses along his neck with his hands moving to Sukuna’s waist. 

Sukuna stiffened, so you reached out and guided his hand to Yuuji’s hip. Watching Yuuji, you could see how tender the kisses he was placing were. He loved his older brother… Was in love with his older brother. “Let us both make love to you, Sukuna.” You whispered in his ear, before watching him cup Yuuji’s behind and pull Yuuji to him. The whine Yuuji let out was music to your ears as you placed your hands over Sukuna’s to squeeze your husband’s behind even tighter. His head rested on your shoulder for a moment before Yuuji started to unbutton his older brother’s shirt. Just as his chest started to peek out, Yuuji sucked onto the collar bone of his brother’s tan skin. Sukuna’s eyes rested on you, filled with hunger, and lust… That look he got whenever he wanted to devour you. With a deep breath and a clench of his jaw, he finally spoke. 

“Alright… Fine.” He grumbled with Yuuji lifting his head. “Just this once…” He scowled before finally taking his eyes off of you to look at his younger brother. That look of hunger faded, replaced by one of curiosity. His hand went to cup Yuuji’s chin, his thumb tugging on his brother’s lower lip to see the lip bounce back to it’s place. Sukuna dipped that same thing into Yuuji’s mouth, pushing past his plump lip. Yuuji sucked obediently, without needing a single order… Just as you trained him to do. Those big expressive eyes of his looked up to his older brother, watching and waiting for his older brother’s reactions. Sukuna’s expression softened, his demeanor relaxing as his thumb pushed further into Yuuji’s mouth. 

Now that he was more relaxed, you neared again, placing your hand on the small of Sukuna’s back. While reaching up with your tippy toes, you pressed a kiss to his cheek. Being so close to both of their faces, you watched as Sukuna tugged down on Yuuji’s chin to open his mouth

“Alright. Fine.” He grumbled while peeking over his shoulder at Yuuji who was waiting patiently, kneeling behind him. “Just this once… And you promise not to call out Yuuij’s name?” Those ruby eyes looked into yours, the hardened expression softening, vulnerability seeping out in a way you rarely saw. You tenderly let your fingertips grace his cheek, his hand pressing your palm to his skin and holding it in place as a smile lurked. 

“I promise, but let me reassure him before we start, ok?” You cooed as you grew closer to him, your voice just above a whisper. You tugged Yuuji to the couch letting him sit down so you could straddle him again. His cheeks felt warm in your hands, his eyes a bit glassy. “Yuuji sweetie.” You cooed before pressing a kiss to the edge of his lips. “You are the love of my life.” You pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You are the absolute best husband I could ask for.” You pressed a kiss on the other side at the edge of his lips. “Are you going to be ok with this?” You questioned, watching the corners of his lips turn upward. 

“Yeah… I’m excited.” Yuuji relaxed and his bright smile took over. You stepped up, turning around behind Yuuji while watching Sukuna’s back resting on the counter in the kitchen. Yuuji started to unzip your dress as you watched Sukuna drink some whiskey while still facing away from the both of you. 

“‘Kunaaaa…” You sang as the dress hit the floor. “Come join us.” Sukuna peeked between the counter and the cupboard to see you waggling your fingers to bring him over to you. That devilish grin was so very clear from so very far away and it sent chills down your spine. There you stood in nothing but your bra and underwear, Yuuji behind you undressing himself. Yuuji came around the coffee table as you laid back on the bed of the sofa. Sukuna undressed before you while you watched Yuuji help him. Sukuna’s fingers began undoing the buttons, with Yuuji’s arms coming around him to undo his belt. Yuuji pulled the belt through the loops as Sukuna started to reach the bottom buttons. His brother’s hands helped pull off the button up at his shoulders before reaching down to undo the button of his slacks. 

Those slacks fell to the ground revealing tattooed muscular thighs. His hands gripped your thighs, tugging you towards him so you were laying down now instead of sitting up. Fingers hooked under the hem of your underwear, pulling them down as you watched Yuuji mesmerized by his brother’s cheeks. “Yuuji baby, go get the lube.” You ordered before Sukuna smacked your thigh to then grip your jaw in his hand. “Go.” You insisted before looking at Sukuna’s scowling eyes. 

“We had an agreement.” He hiss while raising his nose at you. 

“Would you rather take him up the ass without lube?” You countered while trying to raise your own nose at him. He clicked his tongue and tossed your face aside. Without any warning you gripped onto his neck, pulling up to him to suck right underneath where his jaw met. The erection he had pressed up against your heat, right between his legs, with him moaning in your ear. Nails dug into the lace of the bra, tugging it down to reveal your nipple. Lips wrapped around the nipple, sucking at it, a feeling of relief and arousal forming between your legs. He always ravaged you with a certain hunger, like he could never get enough of you. Like you would vanish at any moment. Like you would disappear if his eyes were to leave you. 

Thrusting your head back at the pillow, you arched your back to let him have your chest. The moans he made were mixed with yours and you could hear Yuuji’s footsteps coming down the steps. Your nails dug into his back, him hissing at you before biting down onto your neck. The surprise action made you gasp loudly before letting out a choked moan. The tip of his girth pressed against you as if he was trying to go into you while clothed. It was harsh, and needy, much like your husband kneeled beside both your heads waiting for his moment. 

You reached your hand out, blindly caressing Yuuji’s thigh as Sukuna crept up your neck. You found the hem of one of the pant legs of his boxer briefs and tugged on it, edging him closer. “‘Kuna.” You moaned as Yuuji grew close enough for you to feel his length. Pulling it out of his boxers briefs, you started to rub at his shaft. 

“‘Kuna.” Yuuji whined as you watched him place his hand over his brother’s back. Sukuna lifted up off of you, kneeling in front of you before cupping his brother’s cheek. They pulled each other into a kiss with their tongues sliding past. You reached into Sukuna’s boxer briefs, pulling him out and doing the same with him. Each of them stood up, nearing each other without breaking the kiss. 

The tips of their girths touching as you neared with your mouth. Your lips pressed to where they met, your tongue curling around both. Your eyes looked up to watch them, noticing the kiss slowed but the moans got louder. Slathering saliva up and down Sukuna’s length, you continued to rub Yuuji’s while still watching them both above. Yuuji’s whines intermixed with Sukuna’s deep groans had the wetness growing between your legs. Switching to slathering Yuuji, you rubbed Sukuna and squeezed your thighs together. 

They both stopped, their foreheads pressing to each other as they looked down at you. “Do you like having two cocks in your mouth?” Sukuna’s devilish grin grew as he asked. Fingers sliding through his hair, nails scratching at your scalp, you nodded obediently. With Sukuna’s guiding hand on Yuuji’s back, Sukuna and your husband pressed the tips of both their girths into your mouth. The stretch felt impossible and like your lips might split. Your cheeks were more stuffed than a chipmunks, but Sukuna was cooing about how well you were doing. 

The hand on Yuuji’s hip guided him out, much to your relief. Only then did Sukuna intrude past your throat, holding himself there with your nose pressed to his pubic bone. His hand in your hair held the back of your head as you choked around him. He pulled himself out with a groan, with you quickly trying to catch your breath, only to have him guide his brother into your mouth. Your husband’s girth pushed down your throat, with Sukuna’s hand on the back of your head and the other on the small of his brother’s back. You quickly gripped onto Yuuji’s hips, your thumbs smoothing over the hip bone as you choked again. Just when you thought you would get some relief with Yuuji pulling out, with his apologetic eyes… Sukuna comes to insert himself whole again. This time he cupped your face in his hand, making you look up at him with tears in your eyes and spilling over. 

“There it is…” He hummed as the tears streaked down your cheeks. Just as you started to choke around him he took out his length, his thumbs grazing over the apples of his cheeks. He held out his hand, which you took to stand up. That very hand led you back to the lounge portion of the sofa, letting you lay back against it. He stood on his knees before you while taking Yuuji’s hand and leading his brother behind him. Yuuji wrapped his arms around his older brother’s body, his hands smoothing over his stomach and chest. The younger brother pressed kisses to his shoulder and neck, Sukuna finally relaxing fully under the touch. Enjoying the touch. 

He reached behind him at Yuuji’s cheek turning to have their lips meet but not quite kiss. You found yourself with your hand between your legs. A finger traveled along your slit, taking the wetness and bringing it up to your sensitive bundle of nerves. The sight before you was beautiful. Sukuna, softly moaning at Yuuji’s touch. The intensity on Sukuna’s face, but the way he was leaning back, melting into his brother… It was exactly what you wanted to see. “Yuu…” He breathed when Sukuna’s eyes finally opened. 

It was exactly what you had hoped to happen, to see Sukuna feeling for his brother… To truly have the three of you together. You noticed Yuuji’s length poking out under his brother’s balls. Yuuji’s hand was stroking his brother, Sukuna’s hands wandering on Yuuji’s skin as your husband started to mindlessly thrust. 

They mumbled something to each other that you couldn’t quite hear, but they seemed to be very much in enjoyment with each other. Yuuji reached for the lube on the table as Sukuna’s hands parted your knees. Warm soft lips pressed on your inner thigh. He switched between kissing both of them as he got closer. Once he reached mid way, he started to suck at the skin, leaving behind the beginning of bruises. The closer he got to your heat, the more your whimpers turned to moans. Just before he reached it, he stole a glance at you. His red eyes bore into yours as you felt his fingers part your lower lips. Looking back down at your slit, he took a moment to stare at it. His tongue ran along it, from your hole to your sensitive bundle. Your breathing grew heavier in anticipation. 

His lips consumed it, sucking on it. Your back arched while you quickly fisted at the cushions behind you. He sucked harder, his lips sealing around it. “Kuna!” You cried out. His tongue starting to flick at it from within. Your muscles started to tighten and you felt yourself squirming under him. It was only then when you noticed what Yuuji was doing behind him. 

Yuuji’s hand was placed on his older brother’s cheek, with the other not visible, his forearm in a thrusting motion. Sukuna’s moans vibrated against you and his arms hooked around your thighs to hold you in place. It was too much too quickly, and much to your relief he let go with a pop. You took a deep breath, not realizing that you had stopped breathing, and he moved to using his tongue to push up at my nub. 

“Kuna.” You whispered as you felt yourself wriggle and your hole clench. He slid two fingers into you and pressed up into that spot within you that had you feeling lightheaded. His finger started to move in and out at a quick pace and before you knew better your eyes were rolling in the back of your head, his lips sealed around your nub once more. Just as he sucked harder, you felt yourself reach your high, your walls clamping around him. 

As he pulled away, he straightened while using his forearm to wipe his face after riding you out. His brother wrapped his arms around him, fingers covered in lube smearing across the abdomen. Sukuna reached behind him for his brothers cheek. Their lips grazed as the murmured to each other, but it was nothing you could hear. The older brother kissed the younger one passionately, tongues sliding past and moans being exchanged. When they parted, they stilled for a moment with their foreheads pressed and holding an intense stare. 

Yuuji’s hold loosened and Sukuna lined up to you. He cupped his face in your hands, his forearms resting on either side of you. His eyes wandered your face, his lips hovering over yours. His breath mingled with yours. Just as his lips pressed to yours, he slid himself into you. You could feel Yuuji’s hand on your calf as Sukuna’s tongue slid past. There was so much intimacy being felt between the three of you, it would’ve felt overwhelming if it didn’t feel so right. 

Sukuna tensed for the briefest of seconds, so you pulled away to cup his face in your hands. “Relax…” You cooed before pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Relax…” You pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Relax…” You whispered before pressing a kiss to his other cheek. When you pulled away again, you looked at his red eyes. They were half lidded, the slightest of half smiles on his face before lips parted to release a moan like you’ve never heard. It wasn’t a moan at all. It was a whine and he quickly buried his face into your neck. 

You felt Sukuna suck at your neck as his hips started to roll. The motion was sensual, loving, intimate and pure pleasure. He started to suck at the skin as you peeked up at Yuuji. He had his own pace with his older brother, the sound of your husband’s whimpers making you clench down on his brother. “Kuna.” You mewled as Sukuna rubbed that perfect spot within you. Sukunas strong arms wrapped around you, one digging under you as your back arched and the other cradling the back of your head. His breath dragged along your ear, his teeth tugging at the lobe. 

“You feel so good.” He grunted as you let your hand linger on his back. “You make me feel so good.” He sighed as Yuuji reached down, interlocking your fingers with his as he pinned your hand down above your head. “What are you doing to me…?” His moan turned into a whimper in your ear, your heel digging into the back of your thigh to get him closer. 

“Caring for you…” You whispered while letting your lips drag on Sukuna’s neck. “Being kind to you…” You whined in his ear. “Falling in love with you.” You confessed in a breath. Immediately he lifted enough to look at your blushing face. He stared you down, as if intimidating you to call your bluff. Instead, you took your free hand and placed it onto his cheek, letting your thumb brush along his cheekbone. 

His lips pressed to yours, his thrusts getting more intense as he stifled your moans with his mouth. Yuuji rested more weight onto the both of you, his free arm wrapping around you both. Sukuna’s lips parted yours, his teeth dragging your lower lip before letting go. The pace he reached had you crying out in pleasure, your muscles tightening as he cupped your face in his hands. You watched as his eyes grew glassy as he got closer, him squeezing his eyes as he looked away for a moment. 

The sentiment and the intimacy it brought had you clinging his head and burying his face in your neck as you reached your high. Walls fluttered and squeezed around his length with you crying out Sukuna’s name before Yuuji pressed his lips to yours. It was Yuuji’s signature muffled whine whenever he was finished. Sukuna gave thrusts rough enough to rock your whole body, slamming into you with a bruising motion. It rode you through your high as he finally reached his. The hot ropes flooded into you, his groan muffled by his open mouth pressed to your neck. You watched as Yuuji pulled out, squeezing himself behind Sukuna and inching you a bit closer to the edge. 

The three of you rested there, slowly acclimating and letting your heartbeats steady. Sukuna reached for Yuuji’s arm, his fingers interlocking to pull his arm around him and reach your waist. Curling into Sukuna you reached your arm across them both with Sukuna in the middle. No more words were said that night, because none needed to. Everything was felt.