blackveildreams

[blackveildreams]

Spinner X Reade/ Mine and Just Mine

Warning:None,maybe a death but it is not so graphic

In the alleys lit only by the flickering of dying streetlights, where the darkest secrets and broken dreams find refuge, Spinner watches you from the shadows. His gaze is a flash of hunger and possession, the kind of distorted devotion only a broken heart could harbor. Night falls like an oppressive blanket over the city, and the silence surrounding you seems to lengthen each step, as if time itself conspired to delay your return. He savors it, revels in every second, in every chance to see you… without being seen.

“Do you know what it’s like to see perfection and know you don’t deserve it?” Spinner muttered to himself, each word a stone thrown into the abyss that dwelled in his chest.

You, however, advance calmly, unaware of the gaze that clings to you like a shadow, of the presence that moves between the recesses of the night, of the danger that breathes around every corner. You feel safe, carefree, and that carefreeness is what fascinates Spinner the most, what obsesses him the most. You are like a flower blooming in the midst of chaos, a haven of peace in a world of violence. How could he let something so pure slip through his fingers?

Every day, Spinner tries to contain the obsession that has consumed him since the moment he saw you. The first time you crossed his path it was an accident, something trivial. He watched you in a café, your soft laughter filling the air as you chatted with a friend. That laughter had been like a poisoned dart to him. Since then, he had followed your every move, watched every expression, every whisper you threw into the wind. And every time someone got too close to you, anger bubbled up inside him.

"If only you knew what I'm willing to do for you," he muttered, hiding behind some building, as you passed by.

He saw you again and again in the park, surrounded by strangers who didn't understand your brilliance. People who, according to Spinner, should never have had the privilege of seeing you. That notion settled in his mind like a tumor, spreading, suffocating him with a certainty: you were his, from the first moment his eyes met you.

One night, as you walked alone under the blanket of stars and the distant echo of cars, you felt a presence behind you. Paranoia invaded your thoughts; you quickened your pace, but the sound of footsteps behind you remained, echoing in the darkness. Turning, your eyes met Spinner's, a strange but familiar face that you had seen in news, in magazines, in the shadows of your mind.

"Are you lost?" he asked, his voice deep and hoarse, like a distant echo surrounding you.

"Spinner? The... villain?" you asked, surprise and doubt coloring your tone.

"I am much more than that," he replied, his eyes flashing in the gloom. "I've watched you for too long. Too… long."

A shudder ran through your body, but you tried to remain calm. "What do you want from me?"

"I want what I've needed since I saw you," he murmured, taking a step toward you. "You're a sun in the middle of this darkness, a beacon to which I have no right… and yet, I want you all to myself. I don't care what I have to do to make that happen."

The desperation in his voice, the unwavering passion that loomed in his words, were not common, not even for someone like him. His breathing became heavy, his hands trembled slightly, as if he were on the verge of crossing a line from which there would be no return.

From then on, every night was a game of shadows and whispers. Spinner appeared in every corner, watching you with the intensity of a hunter. He sent you letters filled with feverish words, phrases that vibrated with desire and desperation. Sometimes they were just whispers you found when you came home, words like thorns left in your path, to remind you that he was near, always near.

“You obsess me in a way I don’t understand. No one else deserves to even speak your name,” he wrote in one of the letters. “You have no idea what I’m capable of doing… to protect what’s mine.”

You tried to ignore it, thinking he’d eventually get bored, that he’d find another obsession, another target. But with each passing day, his presence grew denser, more unbearable. Even when you couldn’t see him, you felt his gaze burning into you, following you like an invisible specter. It was like he was everywhere, invading every space, every second of your life.

Until one day, you found one of your coworkers. He had been kind to you, a good friend, someone you trusted. But now he lay lifeless, his face disfigured by violence, his eyes open in an expression of eternal terror. And there, in his hand, you found a note with a single word: "Mine."

You shuddered, fear taking over you as you realized the inevitable. He wouldn’t stop. His love, his obsession, was like a wildfire that burned through everything in its path. Any obstacle, any threat real or imagined, would be mercilessly destroyed.

One night, he appeared at your window, his face shadowed and his gaze filled with intensity. You wanted to scream, but fear paralyzed you.

“Why are you avoiding me?” he whispered, his voice vibrating with a pain that almost seemed sincere. “I’ve done all this for you… for us.”

“Spinner, you… you can’t do this,” you replied, trying to remain calm. “I don’t want to see you. I don’t want you… to hurt anyone else.”

His eyes darkened, his expression hardening. “You don’t understand. They don’t deserve you. No one but me understands you, no one but me can protect you.”

“This isn’t protection, this is madness!” You scream, trying to push him away, but he steps forward, his cold, rough hand gripping your wrist firmly.

“No… this is love. A love you can’t understand, but one day you will accept. Because you are mine, and you always will be. I won’t let anyone else have you.”

Days passed as Spinner lay low, lurking, waiting for the perfect moment to claim what he believed was his. He gave you space, just enough time for you to feel his absence and then his return like a constant tide. But the truth was, you were trapped, surrounded by a love as destructive as a storm at sea. He reappeared at the most unexpected moments, his words always filled with broken promises and veiled threats.

“Do you know you could be happy with me? Everything would be easier if you just gave yourself away. No one else could give you what I have for you. No one.”

And then, one evening when the city seemed to bathe in blood under the setting sun, you realized there was no escape. Spinner showed up at your door, his presence like a lurking shadow coming to take what, in his sick mind, belonged to him.

He catches you, wrapping you in his arms with a firmness that brooks no resistance. His eyes, filled with a mix of tenderness and fury, stare at you as if you were the only thing keeping him alive.

"See? No one else would dare protect you like this," he whispers in your ear, his warm breath contrasting with the coldness of his words. "They would never understand… never."

You try to pull away, but his strength is overwhelming. He laughs softly, a sound that, in another circumstance, might have been tender, but now it only chills your blood.

"You should stop fighting, once and for all," he murmurs, his lips brushing your neck in a gesture that is both a threat and a promise. "This love is unbreakable, inevitable…"

And in the silence of the night, trapped in the embrace of a beast that claims you as its own, you understand that there is no escape.

[blackveildreams]

Nomu x Reader, but death wasn't enough

Night had fallen over the city like a veil of eternal shadows. The silence was only broken by the occasional howl of the wind, which tore through the darkness like the laments of lost souls. Your world had darkened since the disappearance of your beloved; the days became unbearable, the weight of his absence a relentless torture. Memories were the only thing you had left of him. You remembered his caresses, every touch of his fingers on your skin, the soft kisses he placed on your neck. That latent melancholy in his gaze when your hands sank into his dull mustard-colored hair, and the love that his eyes distilled when he, without words, enveloped you in a shared silence.

He had been a criminal, yes, a soul wrapped in shadows and sins. But for you, he was more than that. When you were together, he was not that dangerous figure that the world feared; he was the man who whispered promises to you at night, who in every hug seemed to give you his essence. You remembered him with that blush on your cheeks that seemed out of place with his cold and distant nature, a blush that only you provoked. The only love he had ever known melted into a secret story of trembling hands and hidden glances.

But then, he disappeared.

First, there was the silence, a void that you tried to fill with hope. Then, the news in the newspaper. He had been captured, and the world had felt like it was collapsing around you. The love of your life had been swallowed by the shadows. And, after that first week of pain and anguish, the terror became physical. That love had been torn from you, like a flower that slowly dies when cut from its root.

Some time later, something strange began to happen. Other men tried to approach you, their intentions clear, their sweet words, but in each of them you found an emptiness that repelled you. You rejected their advances, confused between your desire for company and the feeling that, somehow, you still belonged to your husband. And then, the deaths began. Men found in alleys, their bodies butchered in grotesque ways: one with half his face torn off, another with chunks of flesh torn away, human remains that seemed to have fallen victim to something monstrous, something beyond comprehension.

You had no explanation for what was happening; fear began to torment you even in your dreams. Every shadow in the night seemed to stalk you, every creak on the floor paralyzed you. You clung to the memory of your love, in a desperate attempt to stay sane.

One night, when sleep was finally overcoming you, a heavy sound broke the silence. You sat up slowly, every fiber of your body alert, a mix of terror and familiarity running through your skin. You walked slowly to the living room, your heart beating with a ferocity that threatened to break the silence. There, in the gloom, something waited; a deep, animalistic breath that filled the room with a dark heat.

You had the urge to back away, to run, but instead your trembling fingers reached for the lamp switch, illuminating the figure watching you from the shadows. What you saw before you defied all logic, a grotesque, dehumanized figure that moved with an unusual mix of strength and bestiality. Its eyes were two black, empty pits, as if all humanity had been banished from within. Its skin, scarred and wounded, stretched over unnatural musculature. It moved on all fours, its hands and feet hitting the ground like a primordial beast.

Your body froze, and a muffled cry of terror escaped your lips as you fell to your knees, eyes fixed on the being that used to be human. He turned his head toward you, and in that instant, the monster began to crawl, each movement more harrowing than the last. Its breathing was heavy, charged with an unknown intensity, and you realized that this creature was moving toward you. His presence was overwhelming, as if every step he took shook your world.

You turned your back on the ground as he stood over you, the weight of his body casting a shadow over you. The cold skin of your cheeks was filled with tears; your sobs were muffled, and your breathing became labored. Your body trembled uncontrollably, but it was at that moment that he opened his fist, revealing something small and shiny.

A ring.

It was the same wedding ring you had placed on your beloved's finger, a symbol of eternal love that now lay on the hand of a being who barely remembered anything human. Recognition hit your heart like a relentless storm. The truth was revealed in your eyes as you saw that jewel shining under the dim light, and only one clear idea remained in your mind: that monster was him. He had returned, and although his essence had changed, your heart refused to see him as anything other than the love of your life.

“It's you… you came back,” you managed to whisper through tears, a trembling smile appearing on your lips as you accepted what was before your eyes.

His eyes, dark as night, seemed to get lost in you. Although there were no words, you felt his gaze filled with desperate possession. He had returned, and although it was in a different form, he seemed to be the same man who had promised to protect you, even after death.

[blackveildreams]

Kinktober, Day 6; Gang Orca x Reader/obsessive tides

Warning: This oneshot contains gruesome scenes and sensitive themes that may be uncomfortable for some readers. If you are a person sensitive to these topics, it is recommended that you read with caution and consideration.

Note about myself: I want to apologize for not being able to get enough oneshots for the Kinktober challenge. As I mentioned before, I broke my arm and I've been feeling pretty exhausted. Also, I've been studying for college exams and having visits from my cousins, aunts, nephews, and all my family in general. I wanted to take advantage of that time with them and not be distracted by my phone. I appreciate your understanding and patience. I promise to keep creating when I can!Another thing is that this oneshot is not smut because for my version of kinktober, not everything should always be something sexual or sex, but something grotesque, like kinktober.

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In the shadows of a crimson sunset, where the world mixes in shades of scarlet and purple, he watches. Gang Orca has always had a hunter's instinct, an essence that leads him to perceive the subtlest movement, the tiniest beat of other people's hearts. For many, that ability has given him the imposing presence that defines him as a pro-hero. But for him, that ability has taken on a new meaning: it has become the tool with which he must take possession of you.

He didn't care at first. His gaze, which vaguely lingered on you as he passed, didn't yet know that it was destined to anchor and hold like prey in the jaws of a beast. But, in the twilight of time, you began to attract him like the hypnotic song of a siren. He watched you from the edge of the room every time he entered the nursing home, pretending an innocent visit. He could see the tenderness in your gestures, the way your fingers touched the shoulders of those frail old people, whose wrinkled skin was witness to your infinite kindness.

"You are as sweet as an angel fallen from heaven. But angels can also be torn from their paradise... to be kept under a more... strong protection."

Gang Orca felt trapped by the cruel irony of fate. He, who rarely stopped at emotional trivialities, now found in every moment shared with you a sadistic and warm pleasure. Seeing your smile light up the tired eyes of those old people was bittersweet. It filled him with desire and something dark that throbbed in his chest. That closeness you showed towards others, that sweetness so innocent, so open, gnawed at him.

Soon, his obsession grew. He started going to the nursing home with memory games and magazines, pretending to be a pro-hero concerned about the well-being of the elderly, but in reality, his attention was only directed at you. He pretended empathy at each visit, his deep voice asking in a serious tone how the elderly felt, if they needed anything... but in his mind he only had one purpose: to get close to you, to let you know that he was there to "take care of you."

"Oh, if only you understood that only I can offer you the devotion you deserve... Would anyone else dare to protect you from everything that threatens you?"

His obsession was not only limited to the nursing home ward. Soon, Gang Orca began to pay attention to those who dared to look at you with admiration or even, in his perception, with desire. He could not stand some doctor, nurse, or even the relatives of the elderly looking at you so blatantly. Every smile, every look of appreciation from another towards you, was an insult to his devotion, a reminder that not everyone understood that you belonged to him anymore.

That's how it started. First it was that nurse who made you laugh every time you entered the break room. Your laughter sounded like a heavenly melody to his ears, but the fact that another provoked it filled his chest with uncontrollable fury. Gang Orca let that anger ferment, seep into his mind like a silent illness. And one night, under the dark cloak of the city, the nurse disappeared. His body was found the next day, horribly mangled, headless, chest open, organs scattered.

The night covered the city with a blanket of expectant silence. He, in his constant vigil, had seen every detail, every smile that the intruder directed towards you, every casual touch of his fingers when handing you a paper or adjusting the back of a chair. That shameless familiar did not understand that by flirting with you he was marking his own sentence. Gang Orca could not bear to see him so close to you, so full of boldness, daring to touch what only he had the right to adore.

"Why do they insist on challenging me? Don't they understand that you are mine, only mine? This world must understand that the price of wanting you is destruction."

That same night, the man disappeared. It was not difficult for Gang Orca: a predator like him knew how to lurk in the shadows, how to take control without leaving a trace. He took the insolent man under the dark cloak of dawn, his steps muffled in the depths of the city. The unfortunate man's screams echoed in the stillness of the night, a muffled echo that was soon silenced by the crushing power of his fist.

Days later, the body was found. A torn figure, an image that looked like a dark work of grotesque art. There was the corpse, stripped of its humanity, its jaw shattered in an eternal effort to scream, its ribs open like the macabre petals of a withered flower, revealing a heart that, against all logic, still beat with a dying latency. It was a spectacle of terror, a reminder of Gang Orca's fury and devotion, a warning that only he and you could understand.

"Let every beat of his dying heart be a reminder of my love, a whisper of warning to anyone who dares even look at you."

To him, that man was nothing more than an affront to his love. His body, now a canvas of suffering and mutilation, was his answer, his violent declaration. He left no room for doubt; he loved you with the intensity of a storm, a natural force impossible to stop. In his mind, that corpse was not a simple elimination, but a symbol of his devotion. It was the macabre promise that nothing and no one could come between you.

"Now they know. The world knows that they must not touch you, that my love is both a refuge and a weapon, and only I have the right to shelter you in my shadows."

Even from a distance, he smiled, satisfied with the certainty that you had become only his again, that the price had been paid.

"You see? No one else deserves your laughter. No one. They don't understand the honor of being in your presence."

His hunt continued. Days turned into weeks and weeks into months, each day feeding his obsession as the bodies began to pile up. A doctor who dared to stop too long to talk to you; a family member who gave you a smile that was too kind; even a nurse whose arm accidentally brushed against yours in a narrow hallway. No one was safe from his silent, meticulous wrath, his judgment unchallengeable. The town began to whisper about an unknown, ruthless killer, but no one suspected the revered hero who walked those very halls.

Each death was a grotesque reminder of his power. Gang Orca did it with precision and mastery, making sure there was no trace linking him to those crimes. He was a hero, untouchable, with the trust of an entire society on his shoulders. Who could suspect him, a man so respected? But in his eyes, there was only dark desire and the firm idea that you were his, that no one could deserve you.

"Don't worry... you'll soon understand that this love is eternal. I've eliminated everyone who tried to take you away from me. Now, only you remain, the center of my devotion and my madness."

Every time he approached you in the nursing home, his words were soft, his gestures almost sweet in their seriousness. His eyes followed you with the intensity of a predator, searching for every detail of your gestures, every change in your breathing when he spoke to you. Sometimes, he would drop a phrase loaded with hidden meaning, a comment that seemed benign, but that hid a darker truth.

"It's good to know that you care for those who are vulnerable," he would tell you, his voice gravelly and deep. "It makes me think of how beautiful it would be to protect you too, from any danger... from anyone who doesn't understand your worth."

You smiled, ignoring the depth of his words, and that only fueled his obsession. He imagined you at his side, like a treasure he would take care of in the shadows, where no one else could reach you, where only he would have the right to see you, to talk to you, to touch you.

"Sooner or later you will understand... that there is no place where you can hide. That this love is inevitable."

Then, that afternoon when a small spark of rebellion appeared in your eyes, something broke in him. You refused to accept one of the gifts he had brought for the elderly, a box of memory games that he had worked hard to acquire, just to impress you. The gesture seemed innocent to you, but in his mind it meant betrayal. Jealousy became poison in his veins; he thought he was losing you, that someone else had caught your attention.

That night, another person disappeared, another nurse, whose body was found mutilated and torn in a ditch on the outskirts of the city. Gang Orca kept his hero mask on, certain that there was no one else in your life now, that he was the only one who surrounded you, protected you, loved you. The air around him became heavy, almost suffocating, when he approached you, leaving an invisible trace of his obsession.

"I only want the best for you... and that is only possible if you are with me. No one else can love you like I do, no one understands the depth of this feeling."

Finally, one winter night, when the fog enveloped the streets in a blanket of darkness, Gang Orca dared to take a step closer. Taking advantage of one of his late visits to the nursing home, he found you alone in the common room, the elderly asleep in their beds. He approached without haste, his footsteps echoing in the silence. And before you could react, you felt his hand brushing your face with a softness that contrasted with the strength contained in his figure.

"Do not fear… I am here to take care of you," he whispered, his words filled with affection that bordered on madness. "This love cannot be stopped, nor destroyed. You are mine, from the first moment I saw you."

His hand, large and rough, held you with a firmness that did not allow you to escape, and there was an intensity in his eyes that left you breathless. That was the instant you knew you were trapped in the abyss of his obsession, in the clutches of a beast whose devotion was as unwavering as it was deadly.

"Remember this: no one else will dare come looking for you, because you are mine, and you will be mine until my last breath… Even if I have to rip it from each of them, one by one."

[blackveildreams]

Kinktober,Day;5, Stain x Reader

The following Stain x Reader oneshot contains the use of knives, guns, and blood. While this may not be disturbing to some, I understand that these topics may be sensitive to others. Therefore, it is recommended that you read with discretion and take the content into consideration before proceeding. Thank you for your understanding.

-------------bloody purification------------

There was something about the calm of the night that embraced you when you arrived at your apartment. The echo of your footsteps filled the space as you walked through the living room. The dim lighting barely outlined the contours of the place, and the air felt heavy, as if there was something latent in the atmosphere, though you couldn’t quite put your finger on what it was. You sighed deeply, exhausted after a long day, your thoughts floating in the quiet of home. You dropped the sweater to the side of the couch, feeling the soft brush of the fabric against your fingers before letting it rest there.

You collapsed onto the couch, the weight of your body sinking into the cushions, relaxing every tense muscle. You threw your head back, closing your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the cozy silence that seemed to envelop everything. Only the distant sound of nighttime traffic managed to reach your ears, but you ignored it as you sank into a restorative emptiness. There was something liberating about those moments of calm, about being with yourself.

However, that calm was interrupted when you felt something sharp brush against your cheek. At first, the touch was so light that you thought you had imagined it, but the touch became clearer, more palpable. You opened your eyes slowly, still in a state of relaxation, but with awareness beginning to sharpen. What you saw before you left you instantly alert.

Stain was there, his figure outlined in the shadows of the apartment. His knife, cold and metallic, barely grazed your skin, close enough to feel the latent threat in the blade, but without causing any harm. You looked at him seriously, not letting fear filter into your expressions. An eyebrow rose on your face, more confused than scared.

“Did you take drugs or something?” you asked in a firm voice, trying to understand what the hell he was doing there and with what intention.

But Stain did not flinch at your question. Instead, his normally serious and calculating eyes flashed with a different spark, something much darker and more twisted. He leaned a little closer to you, and that slight wry smile he sometimes showed when he spoke of his “justice” curved his lips.

“I thought I was the only one with a dirty mind…” he murmured, his voice low and filled with a tone that made you frown, “but it seems you have those thoughts too.”

You didn’t understand what he meant right away. Stain’s words were cryptic, full of double meanings. He had always been like that, hard to read, always one step ahead. But as those words echoed through your mind, there was a moment when the meaning hit you, and shock ran through your body like a shiver. Your heart raced, not from fear, but from something else entirely.

You were shocked when you finally understood what he was implying. He had found something, something you had carefully kept, in a place you thought he would never come looking for. You had hidden those magazines under the mattress of your bed, in a corner so well hidden that no one, not even Stain with his keen perception, would think to check it. Or so you thought. Now, reality was becoming clear, and you felt the blood rise to your face from shame.

“How… how did you find out?” you managed to ask, your voice coming out somewhat cracked by surprise. Your eyes locked on his, searching for answers, but also with curiosity burning in you.

Stain pulled away slightly, letting out a soft laugh, almost as if he had found all this extremely entertaining. His gaze, however, never lost that intense glow, filled with a mix of desire and something else you couldn’t quite identify. He leaned back slightly, crossing his arms over his chest as if he were about to tell a particularly funny story.

“I’ve been suspecting for a while that you see something… different when I’m not here,” he confessed, his tone of voice now more casual, but loaded with innuendo. “But it was by accident, really. One day I lay down on your bed, and I heard something. The sound of a magazine being crushed. When I checked the mattress, well, you already know the rest.”

Every word he said made you feel more vulnerable. Not only because he had discovered something so intimate about you, but because he had done it with that gaze of his that seemed to analyze every corner of your soul. You knew you couldn’t hide anything from him, but still, this was something you never thought he would discover. You tried to keep your composure, but the heat rose to your skin, and the words got caught in your throat.

He, however, was watching you with a different intensity. There was something in his gaze that went beyond mere curiosity or surprise. It was lust, but also a desire for control, for dominance, for purification. It was clear that what he had found had not only sparked his interest, but had fueled something darker within him.

“It seems you need to be… purified,” he said, his voice now deeper, almost husky, as his eyes roamed over your body in a way that made you feel exposed. The word ‘purified’ carried a different meaning on his lips, and you knew what was coming.

The edge of the knife he still held in his hand grazed your skin again, this time slowly descending down your neck. The cold steel against your warm skin contrasted with the intensity of the situation, making you hold your breath. Stain was there, in complete control, but this time you didn’t feel intimidated; you knew that in some way, you had power over him too, even if it was on a different level.

“Don’t worry… I won’t do anything you don’t enjoy,” he whispered, moving closer to you, his lips barely brushing the edge of your ear as his desire-laden words enveloped you.

And then, he began to move carefully, almost reverently, as he put the knife away, trading the threat of the steel for that of his hands, which now ran over your body with the same devotion he had always shown towards his ideals. It was a purification in its own way, but not with blood or punishment, but with a desire he couldn't ignore.

Your body responded before you could process it, letting yourself be carried away by the moment, giving yourself over to that mix of danger and pleasure that Stain always brought with him. The words you had been searching for before no longer made sense, because you knew he was ready to mark his territory in a way only he could.

With a playful smile, you watched him, returning that look of lust and complicity, knowing that what was going to happen would be as inevitable as rain falling in a storm. And both of you, at that moment, knew that the destiny you shared was as dark and twisted as the shadows that enveloped the apartment.

But neither of you had any intention of stopping.

The air grew thick, heavier than you had ever felt before. You stood before Stain, his wild, piercing gaze fixed on you, stripping away any mask of strength you tried to maintain. You could barely blink when suddenly, the cold, sharp edge of his knife crossed your cheek in a movement so fast you didn’t see it coming. The pain came in a heartbeat, hot and stinging, but it was the surprise that took your breath away. Before you could react, Stain leaned down, and without warning, stuck out his tongue, lustfully licking the blood that oozed from the fresh wound.

That sensation rendered you immobile, trapped in a state of absolute paralysis. You felt your body betray every impulse to move, to fight what was happening. But you couldn’t. The paralysis was total, the power of his Quirk invading every fiber of your being, rendering you completely defenseless. Stain’s smile widened as he noticed your helplessness, his lips curling in dark, twisted pleasure. He knew what he was doing. He knew the control he had over you, and in that instant, he was relentless.

“Calm down,” he whispered in a deep, hushed voice as he leaned down to your neck, teeth grazing the skin of your throat before he bit down gently. A soft, but constant pain accompanied the contact. Caught between desire and terror, you could only feel the heat of his breath as he deepened the bite, leaving marks that, like his words, seemed to burn you.

Your mind churned in a whirlwind of emotions, but your body remained still, as if you were prey in the hands of the most ruthless hunter. Stain’s smile grew fiercer, darker, as his free hand reached for the knife once more. With precise, almost reverent movements, he began to slide the blade across your clothes, ripping the fabric with ease. The sound of fabric ripping filled the stifling silence of the room, and soon, your clothes fell in useless strips at your feet.

You stood in his sight, vulnerable, exposed. You felt the coldness of the environment contrasting with the heat emanating from Stain, who looked at you with a mixture of admiration and sick devotion. His eyes fell on your bra, the only remaining barrier between him and your bare skin, and you could feel the power of his gaze burning more than any cut.

“Just relax…” he said quietly, like an order disguised as comfort, as he moved a little closer, his accelerated breathing hitting your skin. “This is for your own good. You need to be purified.”

His voice carried a promise that made your skin crawl. He believed it, deep within him. It wasn’t simply an act of violence for him; it was a ceremony, a rite in which he freed you, or so he believed. You, unable to move, were at the mercy of his twisted faith.

With one hand, Stain tore aside what was left of your clothing. The knife, still in his hand, seemed like an extension of his will, a tool with which he marked his dominance over you. Every movement was calculated, precise, but charged with that animal ferocity he always carried with him. You felt his control, his hunger. And somewhere in the corner of your mind, the inevitability of it all began to sink in.

“You are stronger than you think,” he said as his hand traced the edges of your bra, his gaze fixed on your face, searching for any hint of resistance, but only finding the forced submission he had created. “But even the strong need to be guided.”

His knife finally cut through the last vestige of fabric covering your body. The cold steel grazed your skin as your thoughts mixed in a chaos of fear, desire, and desperation. He had reduced you to the bare essentials, to a state where control was no longer yours, but his. And, in his mind, this was his gift.

The tension in the air was almost palpable, charged with a heavy and oppressive darkness. You couldn't move, not even a tremor in your body responded to your desires. Stain's Quirk had left you completely defenseless, prey to a paralysis that trapped you in his gaze and under his absolute control. In front of you, he stood, dominant, with his eyes filled with a strange mix of fervor and obsession. You knew that at that moment, you were alone in his universe, a stage built just for him, where the only actor was your body and his will.

With a sharp tug, Stain slid your pants down your legs, stripping them off in a single, fluid movement, fast and full of the same controlled strength that he showed in each of his acts. The sound of the fabric sliding across your skin resonated in the silence, a discordant melody in that moment of intense stillness. The cold air brushed against your bare legs, contrasting with the growing heat of the situation. You felt the vulnerability in every inch of your exposed skin, the cold of the room intensifying that feeling of helplessness.

Stain, for his part, didn't seem rushed. His movements, though determined, were precise, as if everything had been perfectly planned in his mind since before that moment arrived. He savored every moment, his dark gaze scrutinizing every inch of your body as if he were dissecting your soul through your skin. With a single gesture, his fingers found the edge of your bra, and without hesitation, he unclasped it with the same dexterity with which he handled his knife, sliding the garment to the side. Your chest was exposed to the air, your breathing shallow and erratic under the weight of the situation.

A metallic flash caught your attention, and your eyes barely managed to follow the knife Stain held. The edge glinted for a moment before he brought it closer to your abdomen. The air seemed to stop in your throat as, with almost surgical precision, the edge of the knife traced a path over your skin, cutting with a smoothness that contrasted with the sharp pain and heat of the blood that began to flow. The wound was not deep, but it was enough to make the sensation burn you from within. The cut was symbolic, like a signature, a mark that Stain was leaving on you, claiming you in a way that only he could understand.

You couldn’t scream. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t do anything but feel, trapped in the body that no longer belonged to you. Blood ran slowly down your abdomen, a red river that followed the lines he had drawn. And then, in the eerie silence that enveloped the room, you felt something even more disturbing: his tongue.

The contact was so sudden that you shuddered, although your body did not respond the way it would have wanted. His tongue, rough and warm, traced the path of your blood, licking it with an almost reverential devotion. You closed your eyes, forcing yourself not to think about what was happening, what it meant. The feeling of his tongue running over your skin caught you in a strange mix of revulsion and something darker, an emotion you didn’t want to acknowledge. It was as if, in that grotesque act, Stain was reasserting his control over you, claiming every drop of your being as his own.

His lips parted from your skin, but his hand was quick to take its place. You felt the weight of his left palm on your chest, strong and sure, as his fingers curled around you with a possessive firmness. Stain didn’t look at you like a normal person would. His eyes were filled with something more primal, a need that chilled you inside but also made you burn. You knew he didn’t see your body the way others would. To him, this was a purge, a purification of what he considered corruption, a purge only he could perform.

“You’re so fragile, so human…” he murmured, his voice cracking with a mix of desire and sick devotion, as his fingers pressed more firmly into your skin. “But I can feel it… the strength inside you. You just need to break free.”

There was no pleading in his words, only a certainty that unsettled you to the core of your being. You couldn’t answer him, couldn’t even move your lips to attempt some form of protest. All you could do was remain trapped in that paralysis, subject to his whims and the insane logic that guided him.

As the edge of the knife ran across your skin again, more gently this time, Stain seemed to delight in each of your reactions, however minimal. Every movement of his tongue, every touch of his hand, everything was done with an almost obsessive precision. And all the while, blood continued to flow from the small wounds he had caused, as if he were marking his territory, leaving his indelible signature on you.

Your mind, trapped in that limbo between pain and helplessness, was fading into fragmented thoughts. You knew that, for Stain, this was not a simple act of violence or pleasure. It was something deeper, something ritualistic, as if in every drop of blood he licked, in every cut he traced on your skin, he was searching for a way to free you from the corruption he saw in the world. But you… you just felt trapped, a prisoner in your own body, a victim of his delusions and his insatiable need for control.

The edge of the knife came down once more, but this time it left no marks. Instead, Stain set the weapon aside, his fingers replacing the cold metal with a warmer, more human, though no less disturbing touch. You felt his hand trace the lines of your wounds, his fingers stained with your own blood, tracing invisible patterns that only he understood.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of silent agony, Stain stopped. His eyes, dark and alight with lust, met yours. There was no pity in them, but there was no hatred either. There was only a sick fascination, a twisted devotion that made you feel like you were something sacred and profane at the same time.

“Don’t worry…” he whispered, his voice barely audible in the stillness of the room. “This is just the beginning.”

The atmosphere seemed oppressed by a silence that filled everything, broken only by the soft sound of your labored breathing, increasingly agitated. You felt Stain's hand slide gently under your panties, his fingers brushing with such a delicate, and at the same time so invasive, touch your most intimate skin. Your muscles, previously paralyzed under the effect of his Quirk, seemed to begin to respond, awakening from that prison of immobility that had kept you at the mercy of his will.

And then, you felt how his fingers, skilled and sure, began to explore your entrance. A gentle massage, slow but deep, that awakened in you sensations that you could not control. The heat in your body grew with each movement, and despite everything, your mind tried to stay in another place, in another space where those touches did not exist, where you did not feel that shame, that strange mixture of rejection and need. But your body, treacherous, began to respond. Slowly, the heat turned to moisture, an involuntary, uncontrollable response to the rhythm Stain set with his touch.

Your mind struggled, trying to resist, but at the same time, you felt yourself slowly giving in to the pressure, to the waves of pleasure that, no matter how hard you tried to deny it, were building up inside you. Your lips, dry from the tension, parted in a stifled gasp as the sensation finally overwhelmed you, and your hips moved slightly, seeking a relief you couldn't help but desire. It was as if your entire being was being dragged into that abyss of sensations that Stain was orchestrating in his own way.

You bit your lower lip hard, trying to stifle the sounds that wanted to escape, fighting to maintain control over your own body, but the fight was futile. The movements of his hand were precise, calculated, as if he knew every exact spot that would make you surrender to him. And you felt it, that growing internal pressure that pushed you to the edge, until finally, unable to hold it back any longer, you released yourself.

Your body trembled in that instant of climax, and the wetness you had tried to repress now stained your panties, sealing the evidence of your surrender. Despite the shame that flooded your mind, a part of you couldn’t deny the momentary relief, the vertigo of having finally fallen into the trap Stain had set.

“You’re purified now,” Stain murmured, in that voice that always seemed to be bordered with an almost religious fervor, as if he truly believed in the words he spoke. “I hope this serves as a lesson to you… to think twice before reading those magazines again.”

The tone of his voice had a mix of satisfaction and warning, a kind of final dominance that made you feel small, exposed, but at the same time, curiously relieved. You didn’t have the strength to answer beyond a simple “yes,” an empty agreement, because you knew any resistance now would be futile. You nodded, surrendering to the inevitable conclusion of what had happened. You accepted his truth, his dominance, because there was nothing else you could do.

You stayed silent for a moment, feeling the weight of what had just happened, your breathing still erratic, but already recovering. And then, your eyes were drawn to your abdomen. Surprise hit you when you noticed the cut Stain had left on your skin: a heart, carefully drawn, with the precision of someone who had done this a thousand times. Your blood slowly trickled down the edges of the wound, a macabre mix of art and punishment.

Stain smiled, that crooked, fanatical smile you knew so well. He looked at you as if you were a complete work, his creation, his purification. You knew he believed he had redeemed you, that with every cut and every touch he had brought you closer to his twisted vision of purity. And as he left you there, marked by his presence and his power, you couldn’t help but feel that, somehow, he had won.

[blackveildreams]

Kinktober,Day;4, Overhaul X Reader

Important Announcement: I am pleased to inform you that I now have a Wattpad, where you can find me under the username @blackveildreams810. I have uploaded the rules chapter for my Boku No Hero Academia Oneshots book, where I explain in detail the rules and things to keep in mind when placing your order. It is essential to mention that my Wattpad profile is intended exclusively for adults. If any minor decides to enter, I will not be held responsible for any consequences that may arise. I appreciate your understanding and support. I look forward to seeing your orders on Wattpad!

-------------Crazy------------------

You walk through the dark, narrow corridors of the Yakuza lair, feeling the echo of your footsteps resonate on the marble floor beneath your feet. The atmosphere is dense, as if the air were charged with secrets and invisible tensions. The walls seem to silently watch over you, silent witnesses to everything that has happened within these walls. Every corner exudes the absolute power and control that reigns in this place. You know well where you are going, and what awaits you at the end of the road. A soft chill runs through your skin at the thought, but you stand firm, with a calm that hides your growing anticipation.

Suddenly, you sense a presence nearby, and two figures emerge from the gloom. Mimic and Rappa. Both have that intimidating aura that most people in the organization project, but you have already grown accustomed to it, it almost seems familiar. Rappa is the first to speak, his deep voice echoing in the hallway.

“Overhaul is looking for you.” He says, straight to the point, with a slight smile on his lips, as if he knew something you didn't.

"Yes, better not keep him waiting" Mimic adds, his tone serious, but his eyes shining with an intensity that betrays the importance of the message.

You simply nod, allowing a small smile to appear on your lips. You don't respond with words, it's not necessary. You know that Overhaul always has a plan, he's always one step ahead of everyone. And if he's called you, it's not on a whim.

You continue on your way, leaving behind Mimic and Rappa, who exchange knowing glances as they watch you disappear into the shadows of the hallway. The distance that separates you from Overhaul's office shortens with each step you take. The slight creaking of the wood under your feet sounds like strange, enveloping music to you, as if announcing the inevitable. At the end of the hallway, the door to his office stands before you, sturdy and silent, as if hiding something forbidden behind it.

With a deep breath, you grab the cold doorknob and pull it open in a slow motion. As you step inside, the dimness of the hallway is left behind, and the dim light of the office envelops you. There he is, sitting on the couch, his figure upright and elegant, as always. Overhaul never seems out of control, everything about him is calculated, from the way he sits to the way his eyes scan you as you cross the threshold.

You turn smoothly, unhurriedly, to close the door behind you. But just as your hand rests on the knob to secure the lock, you feel the warmth of firm hands settle on the sides of your head. The touch is direct, determined, but not aggressive. You know exactly who those hands belong to before you turn around. The smell of disinfectant, the precision in each of his movements… Overhaul.

You stand still for a moment, cornered between him and the door, your back pressed lightly against the wood. Slowly, you look up and meet his eyes, shining in the dim light. There's something in his gaze you haven't seen before, a glint of desire that seems to clash with his usual unwavering control. And yet, his expression remains as serene as ever. He doesn't lose his composure, but you know that beneath that surface calm lies something much deeper and more intense.

"It doesn't bother you that I'm so loud?" You ask with a soft smile, amusement tinged in your words as you maintain eye contact.

Overhaul doesn't take his hands off your face, but his lips curve into a small, barely perceptible smile. The distance between you two is so small that you can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

"You know perfectly well that no one would dare to come in here without my permission," he answers, his voice low and gravelly, but with unquestionable confidence. "And if they did, they know very well what their end would be."

Those last words fill the room with a sense of latent danger, but far from disturbing you, they provoke a flirtatious smile from you. You lightly bite your lower lip, a gesture he follows with his eyes, as if every movement you make were a piece in his intricate game.

The silence that follows is charged, heavy with contained tension. His gaze changes, becoming more complicit, as if both of you were perfectly synchronized at that moment. Overhaul is in no hurry; his control is absolute, even in situations like this. Slowly, without taking his eyes off yours, he brings his hands to the hem of your shirt. With almost surgical precision, he begins to unbutton it, one button after another, his fingers brushing your skin just enough to make you shudder under his touch.

“Always so precise,” you murmur, with a hint of defiance in your voice, your words almost a whisper between the two of you.

There is no verbal response from him, but the way he continues to unbutton your shirt speaks for itself. Each button he opens reveals more of your skin, and with each passing second, the atmosphere between the two of you becomes denser, more charged with something that is about to overflow. You bite your lip again, this time involuntarily, anticipating what is coming. The chill of the office air contrasts with the heat that begins to build between the two of you.

When he reaches the last button, he pauses for a moment, his eyes slowly scanning your figure, appreciating every detail. You feel his gaze on your skin as if it were a physical touch, an invisible caress that makes you hold your breath. You don’t need to say anything, because in that moment, you both know exactly what the other is thinking. There is a silent understanding between you, a complicity that transcends words.

Finally, Overhaul slides the shirt off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in a soft rustle of fabric. He watches you for a moment longer, as if he’s enjoying the sight, before his hands find their way back to your body. This time, there’s no rush in his movements, but there’s no hesitation either. His touch is firm, sure, guiding you to the next step in this silent game.

The tension in the air is palpable as his fingers explore your skin with that mix of absolute control and restrained desire. You feel the weight of his gaze on every corner of your body, and though his movements are calculated, you can sense the intensity fighting to come to the surface. He’s a man used to dominating, to being in control at all times, but here, in this moment, there’s a silent surrender that you both share.

His hands slide to your waist, squeezing lightly, as if he wants to make sure you won’t move from his side. But you have no intention of pulling away, much less breaking the spell you’ve both created in this little bubble of time. All that exists in this moment are Overhaul’s hands on your skin, his breath against your neck, and the beat of your heart, growing faster.

“You know there’s no turning back,” he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper in your ear, but laden with dangerous promise.

“I don’t need her,” you reply, without hesitation, your voice firm despite the growing desire that begins to take hold of you.

He smiles, a small smile, almost invisible, but full of meaning. He’s a man who rarely shows emotion, but here, now, you can see the glint of something deeper in his eyes. Something that isn’t just desire, but a need to possess, to claim what he considers his.

Overhaul leans into you, his breath warm against your skin, and you feel the space between you dissolve, as if the entire world disappears outside that office. Every second seems to lengthen, every movement a precise, calculated dance. There is no room for doubt or regret, only for the desire you have both nurtured for so long.

You dare to close your eyes for a moment, allowing yourself to enjoy the feeling of his hands running over your body, his absolute control over every little detail. And in that instant, you realize that, although Overhaul has always been in control, this time, you are both surrendered to something much bigger, something that neither of you can fully control.

His touch becomes more insistent, firmer, and you know that you are on the verge of something inevitable, something that you cannot—and do not want to—stop.

Your hands slide gently to the edges of your shirt, while Overhaul’s fingers rest lightly on your skin, as if he fears losing the control he always maintains with such rigor. His eyes follow your every movement with a suffocating intensity, but it doesn’t intimidate you; on the contrary, you feel stronger under his penetrating gaze. With a slight rustle of fabric, you begin to help him remove the garment, each movement of your hands a game between the two of you, a silent dance of unspoken promises.

As you lift the shirt over your head, your fingers brush his, a fleeting caress that makes the air between the two of you even more charged with electricity. Your breathing becomes a little slower, deeper, and the moment the garment falls to the floor, you are left exposed to his scrutiny, to his pent-up desire. You look at him, confident, without blinking, letting the calm and flirtatiousness that surround you project themselves in that soft smile that appears on your lips.

He doesn't take his eyes off you, and in his gaze, you see something more than simple control. It's desire, yes, but it's a desire contained in a mix of silent, almost reverential admiration. Overhaul's precision in every gesture, in every movement, is reflected in how he looks at you now, as if you were a work of art detailed down to the last stroke. You know that he could take charge at any moment, but you make it clear that, on this occasion, both of you are playing with the same fire.

With deliberate slowness, you lower your hands to the button of your pants. The soft click of unbuttoning them seems to resonate in the silent room, like an echo announcing the inevitable. You do it slowly, letting each second lengthen, the anticipation grow between the two of you. You feel his gaze, devouring you slowly but surely, and you, far from feeling vulnerable, enjoy that attention.

You bite your lower lip lightly, a gesture that causes a spark in Overhaul's eyes. You know you're playing a dangerous game, but you also know that he enjoys it as much as you do. As you slowly pull down your pants, letting the fabric gently brush your skin before falling, you raise your gaze to meet his, and you give him a smile loaded with insinuation, almost as if you were daring him to react.

His gaze changes, going from calculated calm to something darker, more seductive. Overhaul's lips, normally closed in a serious line, curve into a slight smile, one that hides more than it reveals. You feel how his gaze envelops you, how it consumes you just by looking at you, and every part of your being responds to that magnetism. It's a fierce attraction, silent, but full of a dangerous promise.

He doesn't say a word, but his body speaks for him. You don't need to hear his voice to know that he's enjoying the show you're putting on for him. That barely perceptible smile on his lips gives him away. You know that he's momentarily lost that ironclad control that he always maintains, and that you're the reason for that momentary surrender.

You, with your pants halfway down, stop for a second. You just watch him, letting yourself be enveloped by the tension that fills the room. That pause, that brief moment when the world seems to stop around you, is what makes it all even more intense. There's no rush, no need to rush the inevitable. You're enjoying the power you have in this moment, a power that you both share, but that you handle with a delicacy that you find almost intoxicating.

Finally, you let your pants fall completely, feeling the cold of the room on your exposed skin. You don't cover yourself, you don't move. You simply look at him, with that flirtatious and playful smile that you know drives him crazy, that smile that hides as much as it reveals. And he, in response, looks at you with an intensity that seems to penetrate every layer of your being, his eyes lit up by desire, but also by the deep connection that has been born between the two of you in this game of seduction.

At that moment, the two of you are caught in a web of glances and silent whispers. It is a game of power and mutual surrender, where every gesture, every movement, has a much deeper meaning. And you, as you stand in front of him, with that charming smile on your lips, know that you are both exactly where you want to be: about to cross a line from which there is no turning back.

The silence in the room is broken when you feel Overhaul’s hands place themselves firmly on your waist. Without a word, he lifts you up with an ease that only someone with his control can have. The air feels thicker around you, charged with an indescribable tension as he carries you towards the nearest wall. Your back meets the coldness of the concrete, a sharp contrast to the heat emanating from his body, which now holds you with a possessive force. There is no hesitation in his movements, and although you know him as someone who values ​​control, here and now, the urgency of his desire begins to crumble those self-imposed barriers.

Your smile emerges almost automatically, charged with a mix of flirtatiousness and defiance. You look at him as he, with precise movements, lowers his pants a little, just enough to reveal his bulge, taut and prominent. It is a gesture that needs no words to make you understand what is to come, but still, you break the silence, your voice soft and almost playful.

“Are you in a hurry?” you ask with that smile that you know turns him on even more, your eyes shining with a knowing glint. You know he hates losing control, but now you’re playing with that edge, pushing just enough for him to give in without breaking.

Overhaul looks at you, his expression a perfect balance between desire and the self-control he always strives to maintain. But there’s a palpable darkness in his eyes, a hunger he can’t deny. It’s in that moment, as his gaze intertwines with yours, that he answers in a deep voice, each word charged with an intensity that pierces you.

“The train doesn’t wait for anyone.”

His words, as short as they are sharp, resonate in the air like an echo of the inevitable. And it’s in that response that you understand that, although he holds the reins of the situation, something inside him has decided that the time of waiting is over. You feel the pressure of his body against yours, the cold wall behind you becoming a sweet prison, where there is no escape, and at the same time, you wouldn't want to be anywhere else. The touch of his body against yours, the heat that radiates, the way his hands still hold you with that firmness that steals your breath, everything seems to speed up and at the same time slow down in that instant.

Your smile remains, but now there is a deeper play in your gaze, something that says you accept the challenge, that you are ready for whatever comes. You lightly bite your lower lip, letting that mischievous spark you've always had continue to fuel the fire between you. He leans in a little closer, his body brushing against yours with a restrained, but fierce need. And although his movements are fast, there is a precision that doesn't surprise you in him, as if every second was planned, even in passion.

The weight of his gaze, the way his hands explore your body without losing control, makes you feel trapped in a web that you yourself wove. But far from seeking to escape, you give yourself over completely to that moment. You know that he, with all his power and control, has given in to something bigger than himself, and in that intimate space charged with desire, both of you are participants in a game where seduction is intertwined with power.

“And what do you think?” you whisper in his ear, just before letting out another soft, provocative laugh. You know that he is not someone who lets trains overtake him, and in this moment, it is you who challenges him to keep up with the pace you have set. Your question hangs in the air, but you don’t expect an answer. The tension between the two of you is enough of an answer.

Overhaul watches you with that intense gaze, and although his face remains serious, you know the fire that burns behind that facade. You know that, in his own way, he is also enjoying every second of this non-verbal battle.

Overhaul approaches you with a calculated calm, the precision of his movements as meticulous as ever. But this time, that coldness of control is tinged with something darker, something more primal. You feel his hands running over your body, his fingers tracing an invisible map on your skin, leaving you between expectation and desire. His gaze doesn’t leave yours, trapping you in a kind of silent dance, where words are superfluous and gestures are all they need.

His hands, strong and sure, slowly descend to the bottom of your body, his fingers brushing the fabric of your panties with a precision that makes you shiver. With a slowness that seems to mock time itself, he takes the thin fabric between his fingers and, with a gentle, but deliberate movement, pulls them to the side. The touch of the fabric on your skin, that small gesture, seems to resonate throughout your body, awakening each of your senses with an almost overwhelming intensity. You let out a ragged breath, your breathing beginning to quicken as you feel the cold air hit your exposed skin.

Vulnerable now, you find yourself completely open to him, and in that exposure there is a silent power that connects you even more deeply to what is about to happen. The pressure of his body against yours, his closeness, the way his bulge nears your entrance, creates an anticipation that has you biting your bottom lip, holding your breath. You know what is coming, but that knowledge only intensifies the desire you feel, a need that grows inside you like an uncontrollable fire.

His eyes, still full of control but now clouded with desire, meet yours, and for a second, you are both frozen in that instant of unspoken promises. His bulge brushes against your entrance with subtle pressure, causing an electric current to run through your body. You close your eyes for a second, savoring that moment where everything seems to stop, where the world disappears and it’s just the two of you left, tangled in a battle of power, desire, and something much deeper.

And then, finally, you feel it.

With a breathy moan, Overhaul begins to push himself into you. The feeling of his body invading yours is like a wave hitting you with overwhelming force, but instead of freaking you out, you sink deeper into it, letting yourself go. The intensity of his entry causes a moan to escape your lips, but it’s not just a moan of pleasure. There’s a soft laugh accompanying it, a mix of amusement and defiance, as if you’re gently mocking the situation, how he, with all his control, has fallen into this very human trap of desire.

He hears it, and in response, his gaze darkens, his parted lips letting out a heavy exhale, as if the mere sound of your laughter has triggered something deeper within him. His ironclad control begins to crumble as he pushes deeper into you, and you can feel the internal struggle in his every move, as if he's trying hard to maintain that calm facade, but desire is gaining ground.

As he moves forward, slowly filling you, the friction between your bodies creates a symphony of sensations that consumes you. The cold wall behind you is the only anchor holding you steady as your body reacts to each thrust, every inch of his body pushing deeper into yours, making you feel complete, connected in an almost overwhelming way. But far from resisting it, you surrender to the sensation, letting the pleasure flood every part of your being.

Your hands instinctively grab onto his shoulders, searching for something to anchor yourself to as he continues his advance. The room seems to disappear, the outside sounds fade away, and all that remains is the rhythm between the two of you, the ragged gasps, the moans that escape from his lips and yours, creating a melody that only the two of you understand.

You open your eyes, you look at him. His expression has changed, that normally cold and calculating face is now filled with a mix of desire and contained satisfaction. But there is something else, something you cannot quite identify, something that goes beyond simple physical pleasure. And then, in that moment, you understand that what you are sharing is more than a simple act; it is a surrender, a mutual surrender that goes beyond words, beyond gestures.

His body moves against yours with a rhythm that accelerates, and with each movement, you feel the tension inside you grow, as if you were on the verge of an explosion that threatens to consume everything. But you are in no hurry, not yet. You enjoy the journey, every second, every touch, every shared breath.

Overhaul lowers his head slightly, his lips brushing your neck, and you feel his hot breath against your skin. Every time he moves forward, every time he fills you deeper, his body vibrates with a moan he can barely contain. And then, when you think the pleasure has reached its limit, he thrusts once more, and you feel your body react with a wave of sensations that steals your breath away.

“Don’t laugh,” he murmurs through his teeth, his voice deep and heavy with desire, but also with an amused tone that reveals how much you are affecting him. His words, though firm, are tinged with that same vulnerability you are both sharing now.

You can’t help it. Your soft laugh escapes once more, accompanied by a sigh filled with pleasure.

“I can’t help it,” you reply, voice cracking, as your body adjusts to his, receiving him completely. Your laughter mixes with the sound of his heavy breathing, and you both get caught up in that moment, in that game neither of you wants to end.

Your fingers run down his back, feeling the tension in his muscles, the way his body responds to yours, and you realize that even though he’s always been someone who controls everything around him, in this moment, you’re the only one who has him under your power.

The outside world doesn’t matter. There’s no time, no space, just this moment, this shared rhythm, this connection that seems to defy any logic. And as you hold onto him, as your bodies move in perfect sync, you feel the climax is near, a wave that’s about to break with all its force, taking you, him, both of you, beyond any limits you could have imagined.

Your laugh turns into a deep moan, and you know there’s no turning back.

The air around you seems to grow thick, heavy with the palpable tension that hangs between the two of you. Overhaul’s first move is slow, almost like a promise building, a held pause that builds to a thrust that leaves you breathless. Every inch of him thrusts in with a controlled, yet firm force, as if he’s measuring each thrust, making sure you feel the full weight of his desire in every thrust.

A soft moan escapes your lips, almost like a broken melody in the stillness of the moment, a sound that fills the room with more than just pleasure. His body against yours, his heat and the power of his movements, creates a sense of inevitability, as if everything in the world has been leading up to this moment. As his thrusts continue, slow but charged with that held back force, you feel your body adjust to him, responding to his every move with growing need.

Overhaul pants heavily, his ragged breathing filling the space between you both, his exhalations sonorous and deep, charged with an intensity you've never seen from him before. Every time he thrusts inside you, a guttural, almost animalistic growl escapes from his throat. They are sounds that vibrate in the air, enveloping you in an intimate symphony, and those growls, so unexpected from someone as controlled as he is, awaken in you an emotion that goes beyond desire.

You can't help it, and you slowly lift your legs, wrapping them around his hips. The movement of your legs around him seems to provoke something inside him, a spark that drives him to press harder, to sink deeper into you. You feel the strength of his body increase with each thrust, and as you do, you close your eyes, letting the pleasure consume you. The brush of his skin against yours, the weight of his body pressing against yours, and the way his rhythm intensifies create a whirlwind of sensations that envelop you completely.

His hips begin to move with more impetus, the rhythm that was slow and measured now speeds up, but still maintains that force, that hardness that makes your whole body tremble. Each time he enters you, you feel a mix of pleasure and need, an urgency that grows inside you like a wave that threatens to break. And with each new movement, you feel that you are getting closer to that edge.

He gasps again, but this time the sound is charged with something else, something primal. His gaze, once cold and calculating, is now fixed on you with an overflowing intensity. You see it in his eyes, you feel it in his hands that grip your hips, you hear it in every moan and growl that escapes his mouth. He’s lost in you, as if all the control he so values ​​has crumbled in the heat of this moment.

“God…” he gasps between thrusts, his voice cracking with pleasure as his movements become faster, more erratic, yet still calculated in their strength.

Your legs pressed against him, holding him close, urge him to continue, to not stop. Each thrust is a statement, each sigh a sign of how deep he’s fallen in this mutual surrender. Your soft moans mix with his, creating a symphony of sound that echoes in the empty room, making time itself seem to stop. There is only his thrusts, the steady, growing rhythm, and the way your body responds to each one.

Overhaul doesn’t stop, his body moving with a need that goes beyond the physical, as if in that act he’s searching for something more, something that will connect him to you on a level he’s never experienced before. Each time he thrusts into you, the force behind his movements grows, and the sound of his skin hitting yours echoes in the silence of the room, filling every corner with that scorching heat that grows between the two of you.

The rhythm of his hips increases, his movements become more intense, and you feel the tension inside you grow along with him. His moans become louder, more urgent, and his hands grip your hips as if he fears losing himself in the maelstrom of pleasure. But there is no fear here, only desire, a desperate need to merge with you, to completely pour himself into this moment.

The heat in your abdomen intensifies, and as he thrusts into you harder, you feel your entire body respond, how you are getting closer to that climax you both crave. But instead of rushing it, you enjoy every second, every thrust, every shared gasp. Pleasure builds inside you like a storm, ready to break loose, but still contained for the moment.

"Don't… stop" you murmur between moans, your voice shaking from the intensity of the sensations.

He doesn't respond with words, but his eyes say it all. He has no intention of stopping.

Overhaul’s movements, which had started with calculated control, now become erratic, desperate. Each thrust feels more animalistic, more primal, as if all his cool, distant composure has been undone in the frenzy of the moment. His gasps mingle with yours, creating a charged atmosphere, filled with unrestrained desire. You feel his pace spill over, his body tense against yours, and on the final thrust, you feel the heat of his release filling you up inside. A breathy moan escapes his mouth, as if this final moment has consumed him completely.

For a moment, you both stand still, the tension that had built up between you both slowly beginning to dissipate. Overhaul pulls away from you, but not before leaving a few last spurts of release on your pelvis and abdomen. The heat of his touch, though distant now, is still present, as you watch him sit up, chest rising and falling rapidly, trying to catch his breath.

With a slow, calculated movement, he takes you by the hand and places you beside him, making you sit next to him on the couch. The room remains silent, save for the ragged breathing of both of you, and the calm that follows the climax is almost as dense as the passion that consumed you moments before. His skin shines with a thin layer of sweat, and his gaze is still alight with the intensity of what you experienced.

After a few minutes, when the air fills his lungs more easily again, you watch him calmly stand up. He adjusts his pants, pulling them up with the same precision with which he has always handled every aspect of his life, but this time, his hands tremble slightly, still feeling the aftereffects of shared pleasure. He turns to you, and for the first time since it all began, there is something softer in his expression. Sweat still runs down his forehead, but he does not hide it or wipe it away.

With a calm movement, Overhaul approaches a nearby piece of furniture, opens one of the drawers and, without saying a word, takes out a small bottle of pills. Walking back to you, he extends his hand, handing you a contraceptive pill. You know what that gesture means. It's not just caution, it's part of his meticulous personality, his need to control every detail, even after giving in to the most visceral desire.

You take the pill with a slight smile on your lips, without saying anything. You just enjoy the moment, that subtle exchange of glances, the complicity between the two of you at that instant. Without taking your eyes off him, you bring the pill to your mouth and swallow it naturally, as if it were part of a silent ritual between the two of you.

He doesn't say anything else, but you feel the air around you still vibrating with the energy of the encounter. Without breaking eye contact, he takes a pack of tissues from another drawer, walking towards you once again. He leaves them beside you, without words, but his gesture is clear. You take a few, gently wiping your abdomen, your pelvis, and your entrance, erasing the traces of that encounter, although you know that the memory of what just happened will not be erased so easily from your mind, or his.

As you clean, Overhaul, still panting slightly, watches you. There is something in his gaze that you have never seen before, a mix of exhaustion and adoration. He is a man used to keeping everything under control, to not letting anyone affect him. But in that moment, you know that what happened between the two of you has shaken him deeply.

“You drive me crazy…” he murmurs, almost like a whisper, his voice hoarse and full of emotion.

You smile at his words, wiping the last traces of his release from your skin, before looking him straight in the eyes, a playful spark in your gaze. You know that, despite everything, you have an advantage over him that he would never admit.

“You should never play with someone who seems helpless…” you reply, your voice soft but loaded with meaning, making it clear that even if he thinks he has the upper hand, you are always the one who has the upper hand.

Overhaul watches you silently, as if he is processing what you just said. His gaze flickers between admiration and surrender. And then, as you finish putting on your clothes, something changes in his expression. It is subtle, but it is there. A small smile, barely perceptible, forms on his lips as he watches you walk towards the door.

You know that this moment has left a mark on both of you, a mark that will not easily disappear. But just as you prepare to leave, you hear his voice echo in your mind, as if he had said it out loud but without making a sound.

“Damn, that’s my girl.”

And even though you don’t hear it directly, you feel it. And you walk away with that triumphant smile, knowing that you will always have Overhaul in the palm of your hand.

[blackveildreams]

Kinktober Day:3 Sludge x Fem Reader

Warning: Before you continue, I want to warn you that this oneshot contains explicit themes that may not be suitable for all readers. In particular, it addresses rape situations, foul language, and a monster engaging in sexual acts. I have chosen the character of Sludge because I couldn't find anything similar to what I came up with, and decided to use him for this story. Also, it is important to note that the reader is of legal age and any mention of books is for her career. If these topics are sensitive to you or you do not feel comfortable reading this type of content, I recommend that you refrain from continuing. Thank you for your understanding. -------------------Sludge--------------

It was a normal winter day, the cold was felt with every step you took through the city streets. The icy air cut through your skin, but you barely noticed, focused on the books you carried under your arm. Math, history, physics and chemistry: your faithful companions in the endless search for knowledge. There was always something new to discover, something to feed your mind eager to learn. Each page was a window to new worlds, a challenge you were always willing to face. The bookstore, your usual refuge, had been a comforting stop in the middle of a routine of cold winters and busy days.

The sky was beginning to turn orange and pink as dusk slowly fell over the city. You walked with a light step, enjoying the tranquility of the moment. The crunch of snow under your feet and the occasional sound of a car passing by were the only noises that broke the stillness. It seemed like a perfect day, an ordinary day, just another one where you were busy filling your mind with wisdom. But something, deep inside, was starting to bother you.

As you walked through the empty streets, you felt a chill, and it wasn't just from the cold. It was that uneasy feeling that something was out of place, like an invisible presence was stalking you, watching you from the shadows. Your instincts told you that something was wrong. You looked around furtively, trying to find the source of your discomfort, but the streets were deserted. Just you and the wind blowing softly. However, the feeling didn't go away. In fact, it grew more intense with each step you took.

You quickened your pace, trying to shake off the paranoia that had taken over your mind. "It's just your imagination," you told yourself. But deep down you knew that wasn't the case. Something, or someone, was following you.

You looked to both sides, searching for a way to escape that oppressive feeling. It was then that you saw a corner, a shorter path that would quickly take you off the main streets. Without hesitation, you turned onto that block, your footsteps echoing faster now, almost running, your heart pounding in your ears. Everything seemed normal, until you heard it. Footsteps. Not yours, but someone else's, loud, fast, echoing on the empty street.

Panic began to swirl in your chest, and before you could react, something hit you from behind. It wasn't a sharp blow, but a strange, wet sensation. You felt a slimy, mud-like mass slide over your body, enveloping you with terrifying speed. The cold of the afternoon disappeared, replaced by the sticky wetness of that thick liquid. You tried to scream, to call for help, but before you could make a sound, that substance slipped into your mouth, smothering any attempt to make yourself heard.

Your heart was racing, fear paralyzing you as you struggled to free yourself from the sticky mass. But it was useless. The sludge, or whatever it was, held you with inhuman strength, preventing you from moving. Desperation took over you, your thoughts a chaotic whirlwind as you sank deeper into the viscosity. Air was starting to run out, and just when you felt like you couldn't take it anymore, a voice broke the silence.

"I finally have you…" a deep, guttural voice whispered, and you instantly recognized it.

It was Sludge, the villain who had sown chaos in the city a short time ago. The one who could transform into a slimy mass of sludge, impossible to escape. You knew about him, you had heard the stories of how he trapped his victims, leaving them without oxygen while he enveloped them in his liquid form, and now you were his target.

“I’ve always watched you… waiting for this moment,” the voice continued, enveloping your ears with its tone filled with twisted desire. “You’re mine now… forever.”

Terror gripped you completely. You tried to fight, but your strength was fading fast. Oxygen was lacking, the weight of the mud crushing you, and your lungs were beginning to burn from the lack of air. Every second felt like an eternity, your vision blurring, and the sound of Sludge’s voice seemed to echo from somewhere far away. Darkness began to take over you, first as small dots dancing in your vision, then as a black mist that slowly enveloped you.

You felt your body giving out, the life slipping from you as the oxygen ran out. You tried to scream, but everything was caught in your throat, choked by the mud that suffocated you. The last thing you heard before everything went black was Sludge's macabre laughter, his voice echoing in your mind as you lost consciousness.

You didn't know how much time had passed. Everything around you was darkness, a suffocating blackness that surrounded you like an oppressive blanket. Your body felt heavy, as if the mud was still enveloping you, but something had changed. The pressure on you was no longer the same, and little by little you began to regain consciousness.

The air finally filled your lungs, but it was heavy with humidity and a nauseating smell that turned your stomach. Opening your eyes slowly, you found yourself in a place you didn't recognize. A closed, dark space, and still trapped in that mass of mud that imprisoned you. Sludge was still there, his presence almost tangible around you.

"You've woken up," his voice murmured, resonating in your head like a disturbing echo. "But you're not going anywhere. You're mine, now and forever."

You tried to move, but your muscles were stiff, still weakened by the lack of oxygen. Fear gripped you again, and all you could hear was your ragged breathing as you realized the magnitude of your situation. You were trapped, helpless, and at the mercy of a villain who seemed to have chosen you as his prey.

As you slowly opened your eyes, you found yourself immersed in an oppressive gloom. Your breathing was heavy, each inhalation felt thick, laden with the smell of dampness and something more sour, something putrid that enveloped the air. As your senses began to adjust, you realized that you were no longer on the streets, but in a completely different place. You were in what seemed to be a den, a cave of shadows and forgotten objects.

You looked around, trying to take in every detail, trying to understand where you were. The walls were rough and dark, covered in dampness and years of neglect. There was an old sofa to one side, worn, with the fabric torn, as if it had passed through many hands before being forgotten in that place. The legs of the piece of furniture were worn, bowed by the weight of time, and around it was a collection of trinkets scattered on the floor. Rusty objects, empty cans, pieces of metal that looked like they had been torn from other places, perhaps stolen, all thrown about carelessly, creating an atmosphere of chaotic disarray.

The low ceiling gave the feeling that shadows were oppressing you, as if the space was slowly closing in on you. Every corner was full of mystery, but also danger. It seemed as if the place had witnessed hundreds of stories, all of them sinister and full of secrets. There was something unsettling about the way the objects seemed to be placed randomly, as if they had been accumulated by someone who saw no value in them beyond their function of filling the void.

You tensed instinctively as you took in all of this, your body trembling slightly. Fear crawled up your spine as your eyes tried to understand the chaos around you. In that instant, your gaze met it: Sludge, the slimy mass that had trapped you, watching you from the shadows. His body was still dripping, the thick, dark substance that made him up slowly sliding over the floor, forming puddles in which the light was barely reflected.

There was something terrifying about his presence, something that made the air seem thicker, harder to breathe. Although his form was not solid, you felt it imposing, oppressive, as if his very existence could suffocate you again at any moment. And there he was, looking at you with dark, unfathomable eyes, as if he were studying you, as if he had waited so long for this moment that he did not want to waste a single second.

“Do you like my shelter?” his voice echoed in the den, guttural, like an echo that reverberated off the walls. “I have been here for a long time, waiting for the right moment to have you here… by my side.”

Your heart was pounding hard in your chest, a mix of fear and desperation. You tried to look away, but his slimy eyes trapped you, as if you could not escape his presence. It was like standing in front of a predator who enjoyed the fear of its prey, delighting in your vulnerability. And even though your mind desperately searched for a way out, your body remained frozen, unable to move.

The silence that followed his words enveloped you, heavy and suffocating. There was a part of you that wanted to scream, that wanted to break that oppressive silence in the hope that someone, anyone, could hear you. But you didn't. There was no one there, just you and Sludge. And fear, that tangible fear that tied your hands, held you captive under his expectant gaze.

You bit your lip, unable to speak, as you felt the cold of that place creep into your skin, enveloping you in a feeling of helplessness. You knew you were trapped. The lair, which at first seemed like just a dark, messy refuge, now seemed like a prison, a place you couldn't get out of.

The cold air slid over your skin as you tensed, aware of every little movement around you. Your senses were on high alert, and though the environment around you was stifling, the true weight you felt came from his presence. Sludge, that slimy mass that seemed almost liquid, enveloped you with an unwanted familiarity. His body was like a heavy shadow that followed you wherever you went, never letting you escape. And then, you felt it.

His hand—if it could even be called that—that stretch of wet, sticky sludge, slowly slid under your shirt. The cold, slimy touch made a shiver run down your spine, every inch of your skin reacting with repulsion to the contact. It was as if the sludge was sinking into your skin, leaving you with an unpleasant sensation, as if it were absorbing your warmth, robbing you of your sense of safety.

You felt that liquid hand slide down your hip, its path was slow, almost deliberate, and fear mixed with indignation inside you. Every second that passed seemed eternal, every caress an unwanted invasion, a transgression you couldn't ignore. His touch, so alien and cold, began to rise, getting dangerously close to your breasts. The sensation was unbearable. It was as if that mud had a life of its own, writhing on your skin, seeking you out with a longing that terrified you.

A gasp escaped your lips, involuntary, full of fear and surprise. The sound resonated in the dark den, amplifying the echo of your vulnerability. The air became denser, and the pressure in your chest increased. It wasn't just the mud that was suffocating you, but the imminent reality of what was happening.

"Let me go!" you managed to articulate, your voice breaking between fear and desperation. Your hand, shaking but determined, reached for his slimy hand, trying to push it away from you. The cold wetness of his touch clashed with the warmth of your fingers, but you tried with all your might to push away this presence that oppressed you. You felt the urgency, the instinct to defend screaming in your mind, driving every desperate movement.

“I don’t want this!” you screamed, your voice echoing louder this time, as you tried to get away from his touch. Fear mixed with rage, a rage born of helplessness, of the pain of knowing you were in a situation you couldn’t control. Revulsion filled you, and every fiber of your being wanted to get away from him, from this thing that touched you without your consent.

But Sludge didn’t stop. His laughter rumbled through the air, a low, wet sound that made your skin crawl. There was something deeply disturbing about that sound, something that made you feel even more trapped.

“You’re mine…” he whispered, his guttural voice filling the space with a terrifying certainty, as if there was no doubt in his mind that he belonged to you, that you had to be his. His sludge writhed, coming closer, resisting your attempts to push him away.

Your thoughts were a mess, a mix of horror and struggle. You didn’t want to give in, you didn’t want to be vulnerable to him, but the fear was suffocating, and your body, though strong, felt small against that slimy presence. You were trapped, but you weren’t going to give in. You wouldn’t let fear consume you, even if everything seemed lost at that moment.

The air in the lair felt thick, each second becoming endless as Sludge's cold sludge clung to your skin like a persistent shadow. His presence enveloped you, the echo of your own heartbeats mingling with the low rumble of his breathing. Everything seemed suspended in an unbearable tension, an eternal moment in which fear was tangible, beating inside you like a drum you couldn't silence.

You felt his liquid hands slide slowly, its icy viscosity tracing invisible lines over your body. The coldness of the sludge enveloped you as, with an unwanted familiarity, it began to cling to your coat. Your lips parted in a gasp, the clash between the warmth of your skin and the coldness of the sludge sending a shiver down your spine. Your entire body tensed in anticipation, in rejection of what you knew was about to happen.

With meticulous, almost calculated movements, Sludge began to slide your coat down, removing it from your shoulders, as if he were stripping away the last layer of protection you had left. The weight of the garment fell to the floor with a dull, insignificant thud, but inside you, the sound resonated like an echo of helplessness. You were increasingly exposed, and the feeling of vulnerability tightened your chest, making you feel smaller, more trapped.

His touch became more intimate, his muddy hand settled on your shirt, and with chilling slowness, he began to unbutton it. Each button he released was like a dull thud to your soul, as if the simple act of opening your shirt was a silent violation of your space, of your being. The fabric opened little by little, revealing your skin to the cold air, and with each new space discovered, fear consumed you more.

Your breathing became irregular, panic flooding through you. Your heartbeat echoed in your ears, dull and hurried, as you tried to find the words, the strength, to stop it. The buttons kept falling one after another, until your chest was partially exposed, vulnerable under his gaze, and you felt terror take hold of you.

“P-please…” you managed to whisper, your voice broken by desperation, a thread barely audible in the darkness. “Stop…”

Your words were a plea, a plea born of the deepest fear. There was no pride in that moment, no strength in your voice, only the need for it to end, for him to let you go. Every cell in your body screamed to escape, but you felt trapped, as if his muddy hands had become chains that kept you immobile, unable to defend yourself.

“I don’t want this…” you pleaded again, your tone desperate, as the broken gasp escaped your lips. The feeling of being stripped of your dignity, of your control, made you feel small, powerless. You wanted to fight, but the weight of fear kept you paralyzed, trapped in that nightmare of shadows and mud.

But Sludge didn't stop. His low, wet laugh filled the space, echoing off the walls like an echo that refused to go away. There was a cruelty to his laughter, a dark satisfaction in his persistence, as if he enjoyed your torment, as if every word that left your lips motivated him more.

"You're not going anywhere…" he murmured in his slimy voice, the words seeping into your mind like poison, drowning you in the certainty that he wasn't going to stop. Desperation flooded through you, terror became tangible on every inch of your exposed skin, and you knew you were alone, trapped under the control of that amorphous mass that knew no mercy.

The seconds dragged on, and even though your mind searched for some way to escape, some hope to hold on to, every attempt seemed futile. You were at his mercy, and the weight of that reality was becoming unbearable.

The first thing you felt was the cold; that wet, slimy sensation that crawled across your skin as if the mud had a life of its own. Its touch was alien, intrusive, and although fear already gripped you, the worst was yet to come. Slowly, its tentacles began to slide down, tracing your body with terrifying precision, as if they knew exactly how to break your resistance. Your pants, that last barrier between you and the impending reality, began to give way under the pressure of its liquid force.

You instinctively squirmed, fighting the disgust and terror that coursed through you, trying to break free from its grip. But no matter how hard you tried, no matter how hard you moved your legs, the mud enveloped you, relentless, consuming every effort you made to escape. The fabric slowly slid from your waist, vulnerability flooding every part of you, and a stifled gasp escaped your lips between each movement.

The feeling of your pants falling down filled you with absolute despair, a deep emptiness that stretched from your chest to the floor. Everything around you seemed to crumble in slow motion, as the weight of reality fell on you like a slab. You tried to scream, a last attempt to reclaim your voice, to fight against that which robbed you of control of your own body, but before you could utter a word, you felt a cold, sticky mass cover your mouth.

The mud infiltrated every corner, suffocating your scream before it could be born. The bitter, dirty taste slid down your tongue, filling you with disgust, as your eyes opened in palpable terror. You tried to breathe, but the mud oppressed you, crushed you. Your hands moved frantically, looking for any way to free yourself, to tear that suffocating substance from your face. But your efforts were useless. It was like trying to break through a prison that molded itself to you with every attempt.

The tears began to flow uncontrollably, sliding burning streaks down your cheeks. Each drop that fell was a testament to the helplessness that consumed you. Fear had grown to something physical, something that lodged itself in your chest and prevented you from breathing freely. Your eyes, filled with desperation, searched for any glimmer of hope in the darkness, but all they found was the suffocating presence of Sludge, enveloping you in his monstrous form.

“Don’t resist anymore…” his voice became a cold threat, his words filled with calculated cruelty, an edge that cut deeper than any physical wound. It was as if he knew exactly what to say to break you, to extinguish that last spark of resistance you still held alight. The tone of his voice, low and icy, reverberated in your ears, smothering any thoughts of struggle you might still have left. “There is no escape.”

The tone of his words paralyzed you. It was the coldness in his voice, the certainty with which he spoke, that made your body stop moving. You realized that he was in absolute control. Your attempts at resistance vanished into thin air, as if the weight of his threat had crushed you completely. It was futile, you knew. What was going to happen was out of your hands, and in that moment of terrifying clarity, you accepted it.

Acceptance didn’t come immediately, it was like a dull thud that left you empty inside. Your tears kept falling, but your body grew heavier, more docile under his control. There was no more struggle, no more screams, only the suffocating silence of surrender. Every fiber of your being tensed in mute pain, but you didn’t move. You couldn’t move.

The silence in the den was overwhelming, broken only by the soft, wet sound of sludge sliding over your skin. You felt the cold wetness of Sludge’s tentacles wrapping around your legs, his slimy touch invading every space with an intrusive familiarity. There was no resistance in you, only a deep emptiness that expanded with every moment. Fear had become something more intimate, a dark shadow that had settled deep within your being, extinguishing any spark of fight you might have had.

Your tears continued to fall, silent, tracing burning paths down your cheeks, but you couldn’t even fully feel them. Everything around you seemed shrouded in a mist of terror and resignation. The trembling in your hands had become imperceptible, and the only sign of your suffering were those restrained sobs that barely broke the dense air of the den.

Sludge’s tentacles moved with an eerie calm, as if they knew you no longer had the strength to fight, as if they enjoyed your submission. One of them wrapped itself firmly around your left leg, while another did the same with your right. You felt the slimy cold clinging to your skin, slowly stretching you, opening your legs with an ease that made you feel even smaller, more helpless. You didn’t fight. You knew there was no escape.

Your legs parted with a terrifying smoothness, each movement slow and calculated, as if Sludge was savoring every second of your vulnerability. The space between your thighs grew, and with it, the weight of the inevitable fell upon you like a slab. There was no more resistance in your body, only that silent cry, broken by the emotional pain that flooded through you. It was as if tears were the only means of releasing the anguish that consumed you, even though you knew there was no relief at the end of them.

You then felt one of the tentacles, thinner but just as slimy, slide down to the edge of your panties. Its touch was cold, impersonal, but the sensation of invasion filled you with a repudiation you couldn't express. Every fiber of your being wanted to scream, but the words were choked in your throat, trapped by the fear that paralyzed you. The tentacle gently pulled at the fabric, slowly sliding it down, revealing every part of you to the monster that kept you trapped.

The brush of the fabric retreating from your bare skin was a cruel reminder of your helplessness. Every inch it descended was like a silent declaration that there was nothing you could do to stop what was to come. Your panties finally fell to the floor, an insignificant piece of fabric that had once been your last defense, now completely useless in the face of the overwhelming weight of reality.

And you, meanwhile, just cried silently, your tears falling in an act of hopelessness, of surrender. You had stopped fighting long ago, and now, all that was left was acceptance, that bitter, painful acceptance that consumed you from within. You knew that nothing you did would change what was happening.

The first thing you felt was the soft, cold pressure of one of his tentacles sliding between your thighs, a touch you neither asked for nor wanted, but now making its way into your intimacy with cruel patience. The slimy mud clung to your skin, enveloping every part of you with a familiarity that turned your stomach. Then, without warning, you felt it: that impersonal, invasive touch on your clitoris. It was a slow, calculated massage, clinging to your skin with an indifference that made the horror multiply in your chest.

Your body reacted involuntarily, as if the very nature of that profane touch had torn a shaky gasp from you, a sound you never wanted to let escape. Your throat emitted a small whimper, full of helplessness, while your eyes filled with tears again. The pressure on your clitoris was too much; You felt torn between the disgust that was overwhelming you and the physical reaction you couldn't control. The cruelty of that situation, of feeling your own body betraying you, made you shudder even more.

Between sobs, you looked up, searching for some sign of humanity in Sludge's eyes, but all you found was his wide, grotesque smile, as he watched you with that distorted pleasure that made your skin crawl with pure terror. Your tears were running freely now, sliding down your cheeks like a river of despair. You looked at him, hoping—silently begging—for him to stop, for something to change, but instead of stopping, he just leaned toward you, whispering words that pierced you like knives.

"You're going to enjoy this…" His voice dripped with obscenity, each word steeped in malice, loaded with a twisted promise that only increased your anguish. There was no mercy in his tone, only a dark satisfaction that made you feel even smaller, more trapped under his control.

The tentacle massaging your clit moved with maddening slowness, and before you could process the horror of that situation, you felt another, thicker tentacle approaching your entrance. Fear washed over you again, this time more intense, more heartbreaking. Your entire body tensed, a scream caught in your throat, stifled by the unbearable pressure gripping you. You felt it slide over you, almost like a silent threat, a reminder of the inevitable.

You swallowed hard, trying to hold back any sound, but as the tentacle came closer, an involuntary moan escaped your lips, mixed with a sob of pure terror. It was too much. It was all too much. You wanted to scream, but your voice broke before you could find it, smothered by the reality crushing you. Every second that passed under that invasive touch was an eternity you didn't know how to bear.

Sludge did nothing but laugh, his crooked smile stretching even further as he whispered new obscenities in your ear, words you didn't want to hear but that embedded themselves in your mind, invading every corner of your thoughts.

"Look how your body asks me for more…" he said with such cold cruelty that it almost made you break completely. The humiliation of hearing those words, the lie in them, made you feel even more helpless, as if there was no escape.

And all the while, the tentacle continued its advance, each slow and calculated movement, each touch a reminder of your helplessness. The crying suffocated you, but there was nothing you could do. You were trapped in that nightmare, prisoner of its absolute control.

The air grew thicker with every second, as if space itself had shrunk around you. You felt the suffocating pressure of the sludge on your skin, growing more invasive, more persistent, and with it, his voice, that deep, slimy voice, that slid into your ears like poison. Sludge’s whispers were a constant reminder of your vulnerability, words laden with obscenity that made every muscle in your body tense even more.

“I’m going to fill you until you can’t take it anymore…” he whispered, his lips deformed by that cruel smile that seemed to grow with every word he spoke. The tone of his voice was low, almost intimate, but imbued with a cruelty that made you shudder to the core. The promise in his words was like a shadow looming over you, enveloping every corner of your being with a reality you couldn’t escape. His wet, thick breath caressed your ear as he continued to speak, his words darkening the air around you.

His slimy, cold, heavy body pressed against you, while his tentacles continued to explore every part of you with maddening slowness. But it was his words that tore at your insides. His words that drove you deeper into despair, a hole you couldn’t escape from.

“I’m going to break you,” he murmured, his voice dripping with lust, each syllable imbued with a dark satisfaction that made you feel small under his control. “I’m going to fill you so full you won’t even know who you are at the end of this.”

Each word was like a dagger, piercing any resistance you might have had. Each one dragged across your skin like the muddy hands that immobilized you, embracing your flesh with a possessiveness that suffocated you. There was no escape, and each whisper confirmed it. It was as if those words were dark currents dragging you deeper and deeper into the abyss of his dominance.

“You can’t imagine how I’m going to use you, how I’m going to make you beg me for more,” his low, guttural laugh rumbled through the air, filling the silence with a sense of terrible imminence. Every word tangled itself around you, penetrating your mind the same way his tentacles did your body.

The ever-present sludge enveloped every inch of you, but it was his voice that suffocated you, whispering promises of distorted pleasure, of absolute control. And you, with fear trapped in your chest, could only cry silently, knowing there was no way to stop him.

“I’m going to make every part of you my own,” he continued, the sound of his voice vibrating in your ear like an unholy caress. “I’m going to fill you to the brim, until there’s no room for anything but me.”

The horror of that promise filled you with an intensity that broke you inside. The cold of his words was almost worse than the mud enveloping your body. Each one filled you with a humiliation that was as physical as it was emotional. It was as if everything in you was being invaded, as if there was nothing left of you that wasn’t his.

“You will be mine, until you forget yourself,” he whispered at last, his voice reduced to a sighing breath filled with menace and desire. His laugh, dark and deep, echoed as he reveled in your desperation, savoring your surrender.

And you, caught in that horror, could only tremble as his words slid over you, covering you as his slimy body did, filling every corner of your being with a darkness you couldn’t escape.

The moment you felt the thickest tentacle enter you, it was as if the entire world was compressed by that painful, invasive sensation, which devastated everything you knew about your own body. The cold, viscous mud slid mercilessly inside you, reaching places that should never have been touched by someone like him. The tentacle made its way with brutal slowness, filling you completely until it finally hit your cervix with a force that made you let out a heartbreaking whimper.

It was as if your body could not process everything that was happening at once. Tears ran harder down your cheeks, marking your skin like the tangible trace of your helplessness. Pain mixed with disgust, and your breathing, ragged, could do nothing but feed that silent cry that choked in your throat. Every time the tentacle moved, every thrust, hit every sensitive corner of your body with cruel precision. It was an overwhelming pain, a pain that not only invaded your flesh, but seemed to rip something deeper out of you, something you could never get back.

Sludge, meanwhile, kept muttering obscenities in your ear, each word twisting in your mind, leaving you more broken with each whisper.

“You’re so tight… I can’t believe you’re a virgin,” he spat the words out as if they were a revelation that gave him even more power over you, as if the discovery of your innocence fueled him, making him more insatiable. His words were a poison that slithered inside you, infecting your thoughts, tearing away at what little remained of your dignity.

The tentacle kept moving, each thrust deeper, more painful, reaching every sensitive corner of your insides. There was no respite, no moment of relief. It was all an endless succession of pain and humiliation. You felt each thrust hit straight into your cervix, harder and harder, more unbearable. And you, trapped in that nightmare, could only cry, sobbing with the cry of someone who has lost all hope.

“I didn’t think it would be so easy to break you…” Sludge whispered, his words imbued with that familiar cruelty that made you feel even tinier under his control. “I’m going to enjoy you until there’s nothing left of you.”

The obscenity in his words didn’t cease, each phrase dirtier, more grotesque than the last. He reveled in your suffering, delighting in your pain and despair. You knew he wasn’t going to stop, not until he had used you completely, until there was nothing left of you that hadn’t been taken by him.

The thick tentacle kept moving inside you, hitting with precision every corner, every sensitive place of your body, while Sludge continued to murmur those words that tore you apart from the inside. Every movement reminded you that you were completely at his mercy, trapped in a prison of sludge and cruelty from which you could not escape.

Your tears continued to fall, but there was no comfort in them.

The pain consumed you completely, every fiber of your being clamoring for a breath that never came. You felt the thick tentacle continue to force its way inside you, brutally hitting every sensitive corner. You had trouble breathing, and every gasp that escaped your lips was a silent plea that was trapped in the void. You couldn't take it anymore. The tears kept falling, an unstoppable torrent of desperation that mixed with the moisture of the mud that enveloped you.

"Please…" you managed to articulate between sobs, your voice broken, drowned by pain. "Please stop… it hurts…" each word was a titanic effort, but you didn't have time to finish your plea.

Before you could finish begging for your relief, you felt it. A second tentacle, thinner but just as invasive, mercilessly forced its way inside you. The sensation was overwhelming, heartbreaking. The pain shot through you like a bolt of lightning, so deep you thought you couldn't bear it. You let out a gasp, but the sound was caught in your throat, smothered by the tide of despair that was drowning you. Your body tensed, trying to fight the inevitable, but it was useless. You were completely trapped, a prisoner of the mud and Sludge's cruelty.

The tentacle that had previously caressed your clit now increased its speed, intensifying the massage until the sensation became an unbearable torture. Your body reacted, even if you didn't want it to, even if your mind was broken under the weight of horror. The dark, forced pleasure he caused was a brutal contradiction in the midst of the pain, an unbearable mix that made everything more unreal, more twisted.

And then, Sludge's laughter echoed in the air, a dark, guttural sound that filled you with terror. His laughter was an echo of your helplessness, a cruel mockery of your pain.

“Oh, does it hurt?” he whispered, his voice dripping with malice. “Of course it hurts, you’re so tight… I didn’t expect you to be a virgin, but I’m glad no one else has claimed you. You’re all mine. Only mine.”

His words were like sharp knives digging into your mind, ripping away any trace of resistance you might have had. Each syllable was imbued with twisted pleasure that only increased your anguish. He told you this with a terrible satisfaction, as if your suffering was the prize he’d been seeking all this time.

“You’re so tight I feel like I’m going to break you at any moment…” he continued, his voice cracking with laughter, as his tentacles continued to move inside you, not stopping for even a second.

The pain, the invasion, the humiliation… everything mixed together in an unstoppable whirlwind that left you breathless. Every thrust, every movement, made you feel like you were falling apart inside. Your sobs were no longer controllable, and the tears kept falling relentlessly, marking your skin with the evidence of your desperation.

The sludge that enveloped you felt increasingly oppressive, as if it were melting into your own body, making you feel like you no longer had any control over yourself. You were at his mercy, trapped in the pain and in Sludge’s grotesque promises, who kept whispering obscenities in your ear, more and more intense, more violent.

“I’m going to fill you so much that you won’t be able to think of anything else,” he continued, his voice cracking with cruel desire. “I’m going to use you until there’s nothing left of you… until your body breaks completely.”

Your only response was a choked, broken sob, as your body trembled under his control, unable to resist any longer.

You felt it in every corner of your being, the tide of pain flooding your mind as your sobs turned into muffled screams. Your body trembled, a mix of terror and helplessness, every beat of your heart echoing like a war drum on a battlefield you never wanted to set foot on. Anguish enveloped you, making you feel as if the world was crumbling around you, and the echoes of your pain were reflected in the walls of that shadowy lair.

Time seemed to stop, and then, as if the nightmare had not yet ended, you felt another tentacle, a third, entering you with a ferocity you could not anticipate. It was as if every part of you was breaking apart, a heart-wrenching scream escaping your lips, tearing through the air with the desperation of someone who feels completely adrift. Every fiber of your being rose in protest, but there was no escape, no salvation. Only pain remained.

Sludge, in his twisted satisfaction, let out a dark laugh that reverberated through the room, filling the space with a malice that made every word he spoke sound even more grotesque, even more heartbreaking.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, his voice an evil whisper, brimming with pleasure. “Don’t worry, this is just the beginning… I’m going to fill you so full you won’t even remember who you are. No one else will have you, just me.”

His laughter mingled with the echoes of your pain, each word imbued with an insane pleasure that made it clear he fed off your suffering.

“You’re so perfect for me, so tight…” he continued, his words slipping like poison into your mind. “I never imagined you could be so easy to break.”

Anguish took hold of you, and the tears began to flow harder, as if each drop was a silent cry of despair. The pain was intense, each thrust of those tentacles a reminder of your helplessness, of your vulnerability. You felt completely stripped away, trapped in a web of mud and darkness that left you no refuge.

As the third tentacle moved inside you, the world around you faded away, leaving only the echo of your pain and Sludge’s mocking laughter. There were no more words you could articulate, only a scream of agony echoing in the darkness, a plea that was trapped in the thin air.

Time stretched and twisted, turning each second into an eternity of suffering. You felt like you were fading away, losing yourself in the storm of tentacles engulfing you, as Sludge’s laughter became a terrifying echo in your mind, taking you further into the darkness.

You felt him approaching, like a dark tide flooding every corner of your being, a torrent of sensations that overwhelmed the pain. In an instant that felt like a distorted dream, you felt the tension built up inside you finally burst forth, a wave of release enveloping you completely. It was an unexpected climax, a moment where pleasure and suffering intertwined in grotesque ways, driving you to the brink of madness.

In that instant, Sludge stopped his movement, his tentacles withdrawing from you, leaving an overwhelming emptiness. The absence of that pressure was both a relief and a reminder of what you had endured. He let you fall gently onto the couch, like a rag doll, and the world blurred around you. Exhaustion consumed you, and you could barely keep your eyes open as the sound of his dark laughter filled the air.

Sludge looked at you with a wide grin, his expression a reflection of the most twisted satisfaction. His eyes shone with an insane lust, as if he had found a treasure in your suffering. As your senses faded, his words echoed in your mind, steeped in obsession and desire.

“You are perfect for me,” he said, his voice a whisper laden with indescribable madness. “No one else could make you feel this way. I belong to you now, and you will always be mine.”

Each syllable was a hook that dug into your mind, binding you to him even as your body began to lose consciousness. There was no escape, no salvation, only the echo of his words that rumbled through the air, filled with twisted promises and an obsession that left you frozen.

The room became a swirl of shadows, and the couch became your only refuge in that sea of ​​pain and despair. You let yourself fall into the darkness, and before everything faded away completely, the echo of his voice continued to resonate in your ears, taking you to an abyss that you had not chosen, but that now you could not avoid.

[blackveildreams]

Kinktober Day 2;Spinner x Reader

Hello everyone! I want to start by apologizing for not being able to follow the Kinktober challenge as planned. I know some of you have been waiting for updates and I am very sorry for the lack of any signs of life. The main reason is that I had a small accident and broke my left arm. I am fine, I have been put in a cast and everything is under control, but I have had to take some time off to recover. Also, I have been quite busy with university, but don't worry, everything is going well! I really appreciate your patience and understanding, and I will be back soon with more content. Again, a thousand apologies for the absence and thank you for all your support.

Mating----------

You had been away for what seemed like an eternity, on a mission so intense that any ordinary person would have been annihilated. But not you. With your prehistoric crocodile power, you faced fearsome adversaries and dangerous situations, crushing them with strength and cunning. Now, at last, you were returning to base, tired, but satisfied by a job well done.

You walked through the dark and familiar halls of the League of Villains, the echo of your footsteps resonating in the quiet atmosphere of the night. Your muscles still felt the strain of the recent combat, but you were calm, in control. You reached the door of your room and pushed it open with a sigh, wanting nothing more than a moment of rest.

But as you entered, you were met with a completely unexpected scene.

There stood Spinner, his back to you, in a position that took you by surprise. He was kneeling on your bed, his knees and hands buried in the soft sheets, his body leaning forward and a pillow placed between his legs. The desperate, needy look shining in his eyes, while not intimidating you, intrigued you. You knew what that position meant, and when he saw you, his eyes lit up with a mix of shame and desire.

He froze for a second, but the tension in his body was evident. Even in that vulnerable position, he didn’t look away from you.

“I’m… in heat,” he admitted, his voice shaky, but laden with lust, his tail trembling slightly.

You could have reacted with surprise or discomfort. But you didn’t. Instead, a mischievous smile spread across your lips as you looked at him with calculated serenity. You knew very well how to handle situations like this, and it wasn’t the first time you had encountered a member of the League in a similar state. There was something special about Spinner, though; his primal, almost wild desire resonated with you in a way you didn’t expect.

“So in heat, huh?” you said, tilting your head and letting your gaze slide down his body, admiring how his reptilian musculature tensed beneath the scaly skin. “You’re not the only one, you know… I am too, but I handle it much better than you.”

You licked your lips slowly, savoring the tension in the air as Spinner watched you, caught between impatience and desire. You knew you had caught him with your words; his body responded to your every gesture, every word. Sweat began to form on his skin, and his breathing became faster.

Without rushing, you brought your hands to the black t-shirt you were wearing. With a slow, calculated movement, you began to take it off, letting the cool air caress your bare skin as the fabric slid down your body. Spinner’s eyes never left you, devouring every inch of your exposed skin as his impatience grew visibly.

“Are you just going to stand there watching, or are you going to do something about it?” you told him with a mischievous grin, throwing the shirt to the floor as you leaned slightly towards him, teasing him.

Spinner let out a soft moan, as if your words had physically hit him. You knew he was fighting his own instincts, trying to keep control, but desire was overtaking him. Seeing him so vulnerable, so needy, only fueled your own arousal further.

As you just as calmly undid your pants, Spinner’s eyes locked onto your legs, following the slow, sensual movement of your body. He was panting slightly now, his pupils dilated as his hands shook against the pillow he still held tightly.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me…” he murmured in a husky voice, still staring at you.

You slowly approached the bed, letting the sound of your footsteps warn him of your proximity. His eyes met yours for a moment before they dropped to your body, unable to control themselves. He was at the mercy of his own desires, and that gave you absolute power over him, a power you knew exactly how to use.

You stopped right in front of him, leaning in slightly as you lifted his chin with a finger, forcing him to look you straight in the eyes.

“You’re a mess, Spinner,” you whispered to him with a mischievous grin. “But I guess I like that.”

Spinner moaned at the feel of your touch, his eyes struggling not to close at the wave of sensations coursing through his body. You knew he was completely submissive to you, unable to resist. His body trembled with a mix of desire and frustration, and his breathing was a constant panting sound.

With a firm but gentle hand, you began to gently caress his scales, moving down from his neck to his sides, enjoying the unique texture of his skin. The sensation under your fingers was mesmerizing, and the moan that escaped his lips told you that you were doing it right.

“Tell me what you want, Spinner,” you whispered to him, your voice low and seductive.

He squeezed his eyes shut, as if the question was too much for him. He wasn’t used to being vulnerable, let alone asking for what he wanted. But right now, he was completely at your mercy, and he knew it.

“I want…” he began, his voice shaking with need. “I want you to take me. To make me yours…”

A satisfied smile crept across your face as you nodded slowly, letting your hands run down his back now, feeling his body shudder under your touch. Spinner was completely surrendered to you, and you could feel his desperation growing with every second you left him waiting.

You moved behind him, watching his tail twitch nervously as you leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“You know, I could have just left you here, desperate and in heat,” you said with a smile on your lips. But I’m more generous than I look.

Spinner moaned at the feel of your breath against his ear, his hands clenching the pillow tightly. You knew he was on edge, unable to control his own desires.

Without saying anything else, you began to caress his body, gently tracing the contours of his back and down to his tail. Every move you made left him trembling, and his moans grew louder as you teased him. You liked having him like this, completely under your control, knowing you could push him to the edge and make him beg for more.

But you were in heat too. You had admitted it before, though you handled it more calmly. Now, however, the heat of the situation was beginning to ignite something deeper in you, and you didn’t want to wait any longer.

You slid onto the bed, positioning yourself on top of Spinner as your hands gripped his hips firmly. You leaned over him once more, your lips softly brushing the skin of his neck before you bit down lightly, eliciting a moan from him that filled the room.

“We’re going to enjoy this,” you whispered to him, your voice thick with desire, “both of us.”

The room was filled with an almost palpable tension, the air thick and heavy with unspoken desire. Spinner, unable to resist any longer, let his instincts take over. His normally calm eyes were now flooded with a voracious hunger. His mouth approached your neck with a slowness charged with repressed longing, and when his sharp teeth finally bit into your skin, an electric current ran through your spine. Pain and pleasure intertwined in a single instant, drawing a laugh broken by moans from you. It was a mix of surprise and lust; the knowledge that he had lost the battle against his own desires made you smile as you abandoned yourself to the moment.

Spinner's bite wasn't just physical; it was the surrender of both of you to something much deeper. You felt his hot breath against your skin, his fangs leaving marks on your flesh, like a silent declaration of possession. He was marking his territory, and you wanted nothing more than to be consumed by that intensity. With each bite, the heat between you intensified, and the trembling in his body betrayed how close he was to losing control completely.

“You can’t resist, can you?” you whispered to him between laughs and moans, as the sensation of his bite awakened something deeper in you. You felt your nerves vibrate, and your own need grew, as insatiable as his.

Spinner, breathing heavily, pulled away just enough to look into your eyes. His were shining with wild desire, but there was a plan in his gaze. Without saying a word, he lifted you up and placed you on his lap, with a precision that only he could have in that state. He delicately positioned you in the lotus flower position, joining your bodies in an intimate and symbolic way. Spinner’s hands held you tightly, guiding you effortlessly as your skin met his, scaly and warm.

The silence between you was only interrupted by your labored breathing as he aligned his two reptilian bulges against your entrance. You felt the soft coldness of his skin contrasting with the heat of your body, and your hands gripped his shoulders. Every second of anticipation made you feel more alive, more aware of what was about to happen.

When he finally began to push into you, he did so slowly, almost torturously. His movement was calculated, wanting you to feel every inch of him. The two reptilian bulges forced their way inside you, filling you so deeply that you could barely contain the moans that spilled from your lips. Your nails dug into his shoulders, searching for an anchor as your senses mixed between pleasure and euphoria. Spinner growled in a low, husky voice, every sound he made a reflection of his own ecstasy, and his eyes never left yours.

Your bodies moved in unison, a slow, rhythmic rocking that seemed to resonate with every fiber of your being. You felt the connection between you intensify, as you sank deeper and deeper into the pleasure you were both creating together.

Spinner began to move with an almost agonizing slowness, as if he wanted to prolong every second, every heartbeat. His movements were deliberate, almost ceremonial, as his reptilian bulges slid inside you with restrained force. Each thrust, though slow, made you feel every inch of him deeper, hitting your insides in such an intimate way that it drew involuntary moans from your lips. Despite the slowness, a soft laugh escaped between your moans, a mix of amusement and excitement. You felt as if he was testing your limits, exploring every corner of your body from within.

Spinner's bulges hit your inner neck hard, sending waves of pleasure rolling through you like a silent storm. Your body responded to every movement, arching into him, seeking more. The sensation was exquisite, but there was a growing urgency in you that couldn't be ignored. So, amid a moan broken by the slow pace that drove you crazy, you raised a hand and lightly patted his head.

“Faster…” you murmured huskily, a mischievous smile curving your lips. “Give me more.”

Spinner, his eyes clouded with desire, nodded almost immediately. The control he tried to maintain broke in that instant, and the obedient reptile gave in to the command. His pace abruptly changed, speeding up with a raw intensity that sent a wave of pleasure through your body. Now his reptilian bulges hit your insides harder, more urgently, filling you with a sensation you hadn’t anticipated.

Each thrust was faster, deeper, and the sound of his skin against yours echoed in the room. You clung to his shoulders, while your body trembled with the pleasure that grew like an unstoppable wave, and your moans mixed with uncontrolled laughter, enjoying every second that Spinner completely lost himself in you.

Spinner’s movements intensified with each thrust, his pace becoming more frenetic and urgent, as if his entire being was guided by a primal, wild instinct. Your bodies moved in a chaotic dance of pleasure, perfectly synchronized, as the heat between you both rose to an unbearable point. Each crash of his reptilian bulges against your core was like an explosion, unleashing waves of sensations that made you tremble. Your body took it all in, accepting the weight of his unbridled desire, and as ecstasy approached, moans and sighs merged into a symphony of shared pleasure.

Spinner let out a low, deep growl that reverberated through his chest and spilled over your skin. It was the roar of someone who had crossed the boundary of restraint, completely surrendered to the moment. With one last thrust, his body tensed and you felt him release himself inside you. The warmth of his fluid filled you, spreading throughout your entire being. But there was something else in that sensation, something dense, almost tangible, that made you pause for an instant. Your senses were so sharp, so connected to that moment that you could feel every pulse, every drop of what he was giving you.

You bit your lip, a mischievous smile appearing on your face as you looked into his eyes, already knowing the answer, but wanting to hear it from his lips.

“Did you give me balls?” you asked with a breathy laugh, voice shaking slightly from the residual pleasure still coursing through your body.

Spinner, breathing heavily, nodded breathlessly, his eyes half-lidded as exhaustion began to take hold. Sweat coated his scaly skin, and his muscles, once tense from the passion of the moment, now relaxed under the weight of satisfaction. He could barely get the words out, but in his hoarse growl, you recognized the confirmation.

“Yes…” he murmured, his voice broken. “I’ve laid eggs on you.”

There was a strange peace in his confession, a surrender to what had just happened. His body finally gave in to exhaustion, and he dropped onto the bed, his arms splayed out to the sides as his breathing grew heavier. Sweat dripped down his forehead, and his chest rose and fell rapidly, as if he had just run a marathon.

You stared at him for a moment, reveling in the image of him so vulnerable, so satisfied. There was a strange beauty in the way the two of you had shared that moment, how you had bonded not only in pleasure, but also in something much deeper and primal.

Without losing that mischievous smile, you laid down beside him, your body still vibrating with the energy of what had just happened. With unexpected gentleness, you took the sheets that had been crumpled at the foot of the bed and pulled them up to cover his exhausted body. You settled down beside him, resting a hand on his chest still damp with sweat, feeling the strong beat of his heart under your palm.

The room was plunged into a deep calm, broken only by the sound of his breathing, now slower and more regular. You, on the other hand, felt the strange heaviness in your abdomen, a sensation that still made you smile in a knowing way. You knew that inside you there was something more than fluid, something that would grow, fruit of the wild union you had just shared.

“Rest, Spinner,” you whispered softly, your voice filled with an affection that, perhaps, you had not expected to feel. While his eyes slowly closed, you stayed awake a little longer, staring at the ceiling and feeling that silent heat in your body. You had gained more than you bargained for that night, and as sleep finally overtook you, you knew everything would change from that moment on.

[blackveildreams]

Kinktober,Day 1:Shigaraki x Fem Reader whim

Hi! Yes, I'm sorry for not starting this on time, but I ended up in the hospital because I broke my left arm, and let's just say that it wasn't easy to write with one hand, luckily I'm right-handed, so that's not going to stop me from making lemon smut stories for this month, I'll try to upload the stories I'm missing, I need rest but I'll try to update, I promise, but I feel exhausted, don't worry, I'm fine, I'm writing this from the hospital and nothing more serious happened than the broken arm

--------------------"Whim"------------------

Shigaraki's eyes are like black holes, cold, dark, capable of devouring you without saying a word. His gaze is deep, penetrating, it stabs into you like a dagger made of ice. Every time he looks at you, he does so with a relentless, calculating seriousness, almost as if he were evaluating each of your movements, each breath you dare to take in his presence.

It's a look you can't avoid, like a poison that slowly consumes you, enveloping you in a mix of fear and attraction. The silence between you is overwhelming, charged with tension, and his brow, barely furrowed, tells you more than any words could. He doesn't need to speak to let you know what he thinks; the disdain in his eyes is like a bolt of lightning that cuts through the darkness.

You can almost feel his latent anger, contained in that dangerous stillness. He doesn't explode, he doesn't shout, he simply watches you, cold as an impending storm. Every time your eyes meet, you feel as if the world is crumbling around you, as if the only reality is the sharp edge of your gaze, which sees everything, knows everything, and is ready to disintegrate everything that does not meet its expectations.

"You know I won't," you reply firmly.

Shigaraki moves like a dark bolt of lightning, his speed almost imperceptible, leaving only a trace of tension in the air. In the blink of an eye, his hand is placed behind you, close to your back, so close that you can feel his presence like an invisible weight, but with an almost disturbing care not to touch you. It's a gesture full of control, of power, as if he could destroy you at any moment but decided not to, not yet.

Your eyes meet his, but yours are full of annoyance, a mix of tiredness and defiance. It's as if you're fed up with that threatening closeness, with that game that always seems to have the cards in his favor. Despite his speed, the intensity of his movements, your gaze remains firm, fixed on him, as if you were telling him without words that he doesn't intimidate you, that you won't submit so easily to his will.

Shigaraki doesn't say anything, he doesn't need to. His silence is a statement in itself, one that seems to float between you both, heavy as a storm cloud. The coldness in his eyes, that calculating calm that always surrounds him, envelops you. But you, with your gaze full of disdain, remain there, impassive, knowing that no matter how fast he moves, he won't be able to touch what you don't allow him to.

Shigaraki, his voice low and full of power, speaks

“Fulfill my command” he orders you to fulfill his wish. The words fall between you like a hammer on an anvil, echoing in the atmosphere thick with tension. At his command, a sigh escapes your lips, a sound that mixes frustration and resignation. His gaze, piercing and cold, holds you, and you feel the weight of his expectation on your shoulders.

You look at him wearily, as if each word he speaks is another burden on your already exhausted soul. There is an internal struggle, a battle between your will and the imposing force of his presence. The room seems to shrink around him, as if the air is becoming heavier, harder to breathe. Yet as his eyes remain fixed on yours, you understand that there is no escape.

Finally, acceptance flows through you like an inevitable river. “It’s okay,” you murmur, the surrender in your voice like a fading echo. His smile unfolds before you, wide and dangerous, like a snake slithering through grass. There’s a dark glint in his gaze, a hint of satisfaction that makes your skin crawl.

With an almost nonchalant movement, he drops down onto the couch, his body settling into place with an eerie grace. Shigaraki’s hands fall to his sides, resting with calculated ease, but his energy is palpable, vibrant. He watches you with the expectation of a hunter who knows he’s won, and you, caught up in his game, brace yourself for what’s to come.

You kneel before him, the world around you fading to a distant echo. Between his legs, you feel trapped in a labyrinth of conflicting emotions; the position gives you a strange mix of power and vulnerability. Your hands, despite the tension in the air, move with determination, undoing one by one the buttons of his pants, the sound of each click resonating like a blow in the silence that surrounds them.

The action is almost ritualistic, each movement a step towards an uncertain destination, and as the zipper slowly lowers, your heart pounds in your chest. Time seems to stretch, each second feeling like an eternity. The fabric parts, and with it, the revelation of his bulge becomes a frozen instant in your memory.

Looking up and finding his face is a challenge. Shigaraki's gaze, cold and penetrating, is fixed on you, and despite what you have decided to do, a hint of annoyance settles on your features. Why are you always forced to do his bidding? That sense of frustration is intertwined with confusion, and you feel like the role you play is one you haven’t chosen. The spark of rebellion burns within you, but right now, you feel helpless, trapped in the web he has so carefully woven.

His smile, wide and defiant, sends a chill down your spine. It’s a reminder that, despite everything, he is always in control, and you are just a piece in his game. As his gaze bores into you, you feel the weight of his expectation, a reminder that surrender is nothing more than a trap disguised as release.

"You're a fucking bastard, and you know it."

"Tell me what you want, but you'll like it sooner or later, it's just a matter of getting used to it," he said.

Your lips part slowly, receiving the tip of Shigaraki's prize with a mix of tension and defiance. You feel it, cold and heavy, brushing your tongue as your eyes lift up to him, shining with impenetrable seriousness. You look at him, not with submission, but with a spark of annoyance that cuts through the air between you. In that instant, your gaze is a silent battlefield, where power and resistance clash, without words, but with the intensity of the unsaid.

Your movements are deliberate, almost calculated, as you hold him in your mouth. There is no seduction in your eyes, only that shadow of impatience, of weariness that communicates more to him than any gesture. You know he senses it, that he senses the tension in every muscle of your face, in the way your lips wrap around his prize with a precision that seems to hold the weight of everything you don’t say.

In that moment, you’re not the one giving in; you’re the one controlling the pace. The annoyance you radiate is like a wall he can’t break through, and there’s more power in your silence than any words could ever carry. Every glance you throw his way reminds him that this isn’t an act of pleasure, but of control, of marking the ground in this battle of wills where you, without saying a word, have taken the reins of the game.

Your lips, trembling from the coldness of the act, envelop Shigaraki's bulge, but instead of passion, you do so with a latent, almost palpable annoyance. Every movement of your mouth, every kiss you place, is nothing more than a heavy burden, a gesture you carry out by the sheer force of your will, but far from any true desire. Your lips close around him, but in your mind all you feel is that shadow of annoyance, like a dense cloud that envelops everything.

Every time you suck him, you do it with precision, but with a coldness that feels like a barrier between you. The air is charged, not with lust, but with an uncomfortable silence that surrounds everything. Your eyes, although fixed on his body, are distant, as if what you do is just an empty act, a choreography that you repeat out of obligation, not by choice. The caresses of your lips are superficial, more in search of finishing than prolonging the moment.

Annoyance is reflected in every kiss you place on his prize, as if every brush of your mouth is a reminder of your disdain, of the distance between you. Even as his body reacts, you feel your discomfort growing, an echo that resonates with your every movement. There is no tenderness, only the friction of the inevitable, of an act you endure more than you enjoy, and in that contrast, the power of your resistance shines brighter than any other emotion in that silent room.

Your body reacts before you can control it, a deep spasm runs through you, and in the midst of your cough, you feel the drops of white liquid escape from your lips, staining the air with its presence. You sit up, your eyes fixed on Shigaraki, and the seriousness that invades you is as palpable as the discomfort in your throat. The words form quickly, a curse that leaves your mouth like a whip, sharp and full of anger.

But he only looks at you, with that twisted smile he always wears, as if he had enjoyed the power he wielded at that moment. His eyes shine with a quiet malice as he watches you, and before you can find more words to curse him, his voice, slow and calculated, breaks the silence.

"You did a good job," he says with that disturbing calm, as if what just happened was a trivial act. "You can rest in peace now."

The air feels heavy, laden with something indescribable as you listen to him. There’s a pause, a moment where time itself seems to stop, and then Shigaraki smiles again, a cruel curve to his lips.

“Though… who knows,” he adds in a carefree tone, “maybe he’ll ask for a second round. Or maybe something more.”

His voice echoes in your ears, and that smirk of his, mocking and dangerous, leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, a mix of disgust and frustration. You know he’s enjoying every second, every word he throws out like subtle blows, and even though your skin stings with the desire to scream at him again, you’re caught up in the echo of his words, in the veiled promise that this isn’t over yet.

[blackveildreams]

Hood (the Nomu) having relations with you

This big boy loves to bite and use his long, thick tongue on you, he would use his tentacles on you, to hold your legs and arms to hold you up in the air.

He would touch your groin with his multiple arms, two arms squeezing and caressing your nipples, playing with them, his third hand would be holding your hip tightly, with a soft and possessive touch, his fourth hand would be touching your lower intimate areas.

If you let out a moan or gasp, he will become even happier and rub the areas where he was already touching.

He would bite your nipples, leaving a trail of saliva and bites, he would put his tongue in your mouth, as long as you don't scream, in addition to inserting his fingers inside you, touching your walls and g-spot.

I would bring his tongue closer to your areas, licking the entrance, putting his tongue into your walls, putting it in deeply and pulling it out roughly.

When he takes off his pants, he reveals his bulge, much larger in size than you expected, you had to contain your scream of horror and fascination.

His favorite position is one where you are on top of him, he would place you face up on his chest and your groin near his bulge, he would begin to go in, you tried to scream, but the tantacles took your arms firmly, the tentacles would take your legs to open them and prevent you from closing them, a tentacle began to open like a flower opening in spring, revealing a lump but a little smaller, he put it inside your mouth, Hood's big lump got inside you

He would start moving hard, hitting all the right places and touching your areas for greater excitement, also to make you cum faster and stronger.

His hands would hold your nipples tightly, squeezing the tip of them.

When you finally came or reached your climax, he would stop moving and walk away from you, admiring the masterpiece he made in you.

[blackveildreams]

Stain x Y/N Kids

[blackveildreams]

headcanons of Stain when he finds out you're pregnant

Stain would notice your strange behavior, more quiet, reserved and shy. He would also notice the vomiting, the stomach pains and how you hold your belly.

Just in case, he asked you for a pregnancy test, and when you did it, it came out positive, Stain remained mute and silent, pale. If already.

Stain barely slept in the morning or at night, now he wouldn't do it for at least two weeks. He practically scared his life

Yes, taking care of a child was a great responsibility, it was a MUCH BIGGER responsibility to raise, care for and protect a child, the child of both of you.

Stain would have thought a lot about the idea of ​​an abortion, but he realized that it would be very cowardly to want to take the burden off himself by killing the child, so he decided to accept the fact that he had to accept responsibility.

Without a doubt, he would become more protective of you, in addition to being jealous, he was like an animal guarding his territory, you were his and ONLY HIS, and now that you were pregnant with his seed... he had more reasons to take care of you like an animal guarding your territory Later I will make drawings, now there will be no drawings because I am in my mother's house and I did not bring my drawing materials

[blackveildreams]

mating season [Nomu X fem!reader]

You arrived at your apartment, exhausted, it had been a hard day at university, the studies, the work schedules, everything was very exhausting, you lay down on the couch, trying to relax your muscles, your mind and consciousness, until you heard heavy footsteps. walking towards you

You knew who it was, a beast with large muscles, an exposed brain, a mouth with a bird's beak and penetrating eyes, it was a Nomu, you remembered that day when it appeared at your house as if nothing had happened, it was walking and eating some meat that you had saved, he seemed hungry, you remembered the shock you had had at that moment, it was disbelief, surprise, mixed with a little terror, then you recognized what Nomu it was, it was the Nomu that was in the U.S.J, the one that All Migth defeated, Nothing was known about that Nomu until now, for some reason or another, the Nomu did not attack you, it simply approached you and sniffed you, like a dog trying to recognize someone, then it pounced on you, it took you by his arms gently but strongly at the same time and threw you to the floor, were you scared, was this big beast going to kill you? No, that was not his plan, the Nomu began to sniff your body, first it was your hair, he touched it a little with his big fingers, then he reached your chest, he touched the sides carefully but then his hand grabbed your breast, you let go. You gasped and tried not to scream, you wanted to move your legs but it was impossible, his weight and strength were greater than yours, then he began to sniff your groin, it reminded you of how dogs sniffed each other to recognize each other, you finally freed yourself. from his grip and moved his head away from that area

"n-no…don't do that" you said, trying to stop the Nomu from continuing.

The Nomu seemed to understand and walked away from you, you couldn't move him from your house since it would be impossible, so you had no choice but to keep him until someone came to claim him or he left, that same night you were ready to sleep When you felt a great weight on top of you, it was the Nomu, he was getting comfortable next to you, he was rubbing his groin against your body, from then on I knew that it would be almost impossible to get him off of you.

and that's how you ended up with a Nomu that looks more like a giant puppy than a normal person.

You turned to look at your side, only to find the gigantic monster looking at you, you got up from the couch and walked towards it, you gently placed your hand on its head, right where its brain was, it was strange to feel the texture of the exposed brain. But you couldn't complain, since the Nomu always asked you the same thing, from the first day you met him. You went to the bathroom to take a shower, it was the best thing you wanted if you wanted to go to sleep, you opened the handle. the bathtub and you let the water run over your naked body, you took a little more time to relax, since today was an exhausting day, you got out of the shower, wrapped in a towel, you went to your room and closed it, It was not necessary to lock it since the Nomu was outside, waiting to enter, it had been difficult for you to teach him that he should wait outside, the first time you tried to teach him not to enter when you were changing; you remembered when he came in abruptly, you were not even in your pajamas, almost You scream, the Nomu began to approach you, the Nomu began to sniff the air, but it was in the direction of your body, it stood next to you, you were almost crying from fear, the Nomu seemed to notice this, it took a few steps back and stood. It was from the room, that was what happened that day.

At that moment you felt two large hands taking your waist, you went pale, you were scared, you turned your head on your shoulder, managing to see the great Nomu close to you, the Nomu's groin rubbed against your private area, you let out a gasp and tried to to push him away, but it was useless

The Nomu laid you on the bed, he stood on top of you and began to sniff your neck, you were afraid, you placed your hands on his chest to keep him away from you, but he took your hands and placed them on top of you. head

The Nomu began to lick and kiss your neck, biting the weak points, you moaned and screamed to get him off of you.

"s-stop!!! no!!" You begged, but the Nomu didn't give it any importance, he continued biting and kissing your neck.

You moaned and begged, you tried to free yourself from the Nomu's grip but it was impossible, he held your arms tightly, until the Nomu spoke.

"I'm…in…mating…time…" said the Nomu, you were surprised, but you quickly remembered why he knew how to speak.

You had always tried to get the Nomu to talk, whether with children's books, teaching him to write or giving him a dictionary, and although it seemed that you had achieved nothing, you were wrongly wrong.

The Nomu gently took you by the head and stood up, standing at the edge of the bed, he placed your face near his groin, then he began to pull down his pants, you were madly dreaming, he had revealed his bulge, it was big, a Amazing size, he brought his groin closer to your mouth, he wanted you to kiss it, you took a deep breath and swallowed,

You slowly brought the lump close to your mouth, your lips collided with it, you felt nervous, suddenly, the Nomu took your head and made you swallow that thing, you were left without oxygen, you could feel that thing in your throat, it was hard, you could feel As it was hard as a rock, you should have bought lube if you had known this would happen, besides, you were afraid of breaking your little insides with its bulge, you knew what you should do, you began to move your head back and forth, sucking and licking the bulge, the Nomu began to move his hips, hitting his bulge in your throat, you let out some tears, after what seemed like hours, he walked away from you, leaving a thread of saliva on the member

The Nomu laid you face down, you could feel how he brought his bulge close to your small entrance, you were afraid, you knew you wouldn't be able to bear that same member.

"stop…please…I don't want to do this…" you begged, you could feel that lump going in, it would, there was no doubt about it.

You tried to move, you tried to move your groin in order to avoid that lump, the Nomu grabbed your buttocks tightly, the Nomu suddenly entered, you almost screamed from the pain and pleasure, but the Nomu covered your mouth, preventing anything from coming out. sound of your mouth

He began to move, his movements were slow but painful, you could feel your walls stretching and giving way to the large lump, you could hear every blow he made against your body, you moaned silently.

"I knew from the beginning that you would be the perfect partner for me when I saw you… I couldn't help but feel so attracted to you…" said the Nomu, his voice was silky and hoarse "you will be the mother of my children… "said the Nomu

He began to accelerate his movements, each thrust hurt you, you cried and gasped, since you couldn't do much with your mouth covered, he began to accelerate in brutal ways, it hurt you, it hurt a lot, but now you had no choice but to accept your fate.

Finally he climaxed, he stayed still for a few moments, making sure not a single drop of his fluid was wasted, there was no way you wouldn't get pregnant, after his fluid finished, he gently moved away from you. He lay down on the bed next to you

You sighed and cried, your insides hurt, you were full of his fluids and now you were going to be the mother of the children of a Nomu.

"Now…darling…you are my wife…my partner" said the Nomu

[blackveildreams]

You choose which of the two appearances you want, the skin tone, eye color, hair color and all of that is up to you.

Nomu (the Nomu of the U.S.J) x Fem Reader

warning:none

Chaos came to the city, everyone was screaming in despair and you barely knew what was happening, you started running like most people did, you had no idea what was happening around you, until you saw it.

a black Nomu with a slight purple tone, you turned pale when you saw him, and apparently he was not alone, but he also came with the league of villains, you quickly began to run towards a place to hide, until at one point the Nomu He saw you, you both made eye contact unintentionally, your legs were shaking with fear and you started to panic, you quickly came out of your trance and started running, until you started to hear footsteps approaching you, you looked back and you managed to see the Nomu running straight towards you, you felt that your soul left your body, under your hood and scarf that covered your face you were scared, you quickly increased the pace of your steps and began to run at a speed greater than the that you normally ran

It was clear what was happening, now you were the Nomu's target and he would not stop until he finished you, you were even more scared and you had no idea what to do besides run, the last thing you wanted was to be the target of a Nomu, suddenly he managed to reach you, he knocked you to the ground with force and looked straight into your eyes, you were on the verge of tears, the Nomu began to take off the scarf and the hood that you had, probably to devour your head, you began to cry of fear, you were accepting your end but you didn't want it to be this way

The Nomu finally took off your hood and scarf, revealing your face; a beautiful face, with perfect skin, hair of a beautiful color, the Nomu began to observe you and was left with a surprised look.

The Nomu recognized you due to his past as a human, he remembered that day when he saw you for the first time, that day he was walking back to his house, he had not had the best day that week and he walked back so as not to have a worse time. At one point he turned to the side and could see you; a beautiful girl, with an almost angelic face, and eyes like [your eye color], you turned to look at him with curiosity and then you spoke "Hello! Do you want to come in?" "He still remembers your voice, sweet, soft, and so kind and gentle," what a voice..." he thought, then he looked at your skin, a perfect skin that seemed to be extremely soft," what... "skin..." he thought again, at one point the cigarette he had fell out of his mouth, he had become completely paralyzed, you stayed still with a slight smile on your face, waiting for him to respond, he finally He nervously turned around and pulled his hood up to cover his face that was now completely red and blushing.

You were completely surprised but you thought that maybe he was just very shy and you continued with your daily work things, he hid behind a wall and started talking to himself "shit...I can hardly even breathe, I feel like my heart was about to leave its place", he slowly peeked out of the wall to see you again, he managed to see you cleaning the entrance while you hummed a song, quickly he hid behind the wall again and again began to speak to "She is so pretty, so tender...", then he began to imagine what you would be like if you were his partner, he believed that you were the one, the perfect woman, the woman of his dreams.

A feeling of great obsession grew in him, but not just any obsession, it was a sick obsession for you, he wanted you for himself and for no one else.

As soon as the Nomu recognized you, his obsession returned for the second time after a long time,"I can't believe it...it's you...it's really you...", you were confused by what could happen but at the same time very scared, You still had tears falling down your eyes and cheeks,"shh...shh...calm down...your boyfriend is here..." He told you that while he was holding you firmly, you were surprised when he told you that he He was your "boyfriend", you tried to free yourself from his grip as you spoke in a scared tone, "w-who are you? I don't recognize you, I don't know what you want!" you said in a scared and trembling tone,"I will show people, including the league of villains...that we are made for each other...", you soon began to feel tired due to a gas that flooded the place. It was the gas that Mustard gave to the whole place, soon you were passed out...

Part 2???

[blackveildreams]

How would Zs'Skayr,Crujo,Khupulu,Dr.Viktor and Lord Transyl react to you when you have golden hands/know how to do massages?

Crujo: This tantrum-like child who doesn't want to bathe has his tantrums go away as soon as he realizes that you know how to give massages. Did you have problems bathing him before? no problem! Now that he discovered that you know how to give massages, he quickly obeys in order to have a massage. Crujo likes the smell of chocolate and cinnamon, it relaxes him a lot When you massage him right where it hurts he will make a sound of pleasure Sometimes he asks you to feed him cooked or raw pieces of meat. When you give him a hair massage he looks pleased, he loves having his head scratched and even more so when you give him a massage

Khupulu: I assure you that as soon as he discovers that you know how to do massages, you will become his best physical and psychological help. He loves the smell of vanilla and cappuccino, therefore, you should also prepare his hot chocolate with cookies He loves that you give him a neck massage, because... it is the part where it always hurts the most After that massage he will realize that he can now move with peace of mind.

Dr.Viktor: You have to have a little patience with him...he doesn't understand human customs much His favorite smells are the smell of roses and berries, that relaxes him quite a bit. After you gave him the massage he will realize that he feels much better both emotionally and physically.

Zs'Skayr: When you ask this man if he is okay and if he wants a massage, he looks like: no one has ever cared so much about me. You ask him to lie down on the bed, he asks you to light a candle that smells like bougainvillea or lavender. He has his lackeys who help him with everything and can do almost everything but they don't compare to your hands.

Lord Transyl: time...that's the right word if you want to give him a massage He wouldn't admit it because he doesn't want someone to help him with his back and neck pain. When you put him in the bathtub he asks you to add roses to the water just to make it more luxurious. His favorite smells are the smell of blackberries, coffee and mocha When you finish giving him the massage he will like it so much that he will ask you to give him a massage every week The idea was not completely original, this was for a book by Slasher x you from a book on Wattpad that is in Spanish...

[blackveildreams]

Nomu headcanons Lemmon

First of all, if you want to have an affair with him you should make him "hot" or at least talk to him about doing it.

Once you get it, get ready for the night... because what awaits you will take you to paradise but at the same time it will hurt like you could never imagine.

once he arrives at your house he would immediately start taking off his pants... his bulge is too big, of a size and thickness that he will feel that your little one inside will not support for more than 1 second

Nomu would lay you on the bed while he brutally took your clothes off, it seemed like he was very desperate.

He would slowly begin to enter you. You feel how your walls are stretching to make way for Nomu's member. He was barely halfway when you felt that he was already all the way inside. You let out some tears and clung even more to the Nomu.

Finally the head of his lump would reach your small uterus. It would begin to move slowly and strongly, if it gained confidence it would begin to move even faster and with more brutality, you felt that at any moment you were going to explode or break in two, Your mind went blank as he thrust harder than normal.

In the end he would end up filling your uterus to the brim, he would slowly separate from you and proudly contemplate his act, that was just a round of testing for him, he wants more rounds

[blackveildreams]

Sketches

[blackveildreams]

This shit is beyond me (Ben 10 fanfic OC reader) chapter 1:''normal''

Valeria still remembers how she got into the hands of ''the plumbers''. Valeria was walking through the streets of her city to go to high school, her city was very quiet, there was not much to say about her city. Valeria finally arrived until his high school and he sat in his seat to pay attention to math class, his favorite class, when he was at recess he always sat down to read a book or finish his homework or study advanced topics, he did everything for fun and study, Everything seemed very calm until a loud and atrocious scream was heard in the middle of the entire secondary school. Valeria walked to where the scream was heard and managed to see many people making a circle. She looked out to see and managed to see two boys. fighting: the boy who was the victim of the fight was his friend Angelo, while the cause of all the problem was Rick, an enemy of Angelo, both fought on the ground with fury like two beasts, Valeria felt like she was going to explode in anger at any moment. moment, he was internally fighting not to do something really stupid, but at one point Rick started to walk away from Angelo, holding his hand on his chest, Rick fell to the ground and went limp.

After a week Valeria heard rumors that Rick had suffered a heart attack, Valeria knew it was his fault… all because of his powers that instead of being a blessing seemed to be a curse. Valeria was walking back from him. secondary, she had to do some shopping before returning home, while she was walking a strange sensation invaded her body and mind making her five senses become alert, something was following her and observing her, something that analyzed her movements with every detail, suddenly a truck with a strange brake symbol in front of it, several men in suits came out of the truck

"Stop there!" said a man who sounded older but a little young. Valeria quickly began to run in the opposite direction, trying to get out of that situation as quickly as possible. At that moment she felt something pinch her arm and she fell unconscious. on the floor…

Well, this story will be inspired by the series ''I'm not okay with this'' because it is a series that I liked from the first moment I saw it…afterwards there are drawings but for the moment I hope you enjoy this first chapter!