#again and blood and flesh taken and used to decorate the room but. this. is how we work. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nicooole04 · 7 days ago

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You’re just arm candy. Really expensive arm candy. Almost as expensive as the men surrounding you.

It's your job. Playing pawn in shady deals with even shadier people. You dress up in pretty gowns and hang off their arms like pearls. You're akin to an accessory. A nice trophy to match their blood-bought Rolex’s. You sparkle at their sides like diamonds while they share chuckles with murderers. You smile and bat your pretty lashes while they talk business with felons. You sway on the dance floor like a lotus gliding on a pond while thorny villains trap you in.

You couldn’t get out even if you wanted to.

It’s peaceful here in the lion's den. You know you’re probably in a precarious situation. You see the silent stares and pissed-off glares. You feel the tension lurking about, sunk to the ground like a cloud of early morning fog. You feel the pressure wrapping around your neck. It’s heavy and shiny, disguised as a diamond choker. You wear anxiety on your fingers like rings, weighing your hands down, locking you onto the arm of a man you should be afraid of.

You are afraid. You’re decorated in it. From the jewels in your hair to the bracelets on your wrist, down the pretty little heels hugging your feet. You’re drenched in fear and yet, you can’t help but smile in the face of it. Smile in the face of all the men who flock to you like vultures to a carcass. You smile and laugh when they compliment you, hoping the man who wears you will keep them distracted enough with their illegal business. You don’t want one of them to get bold enough to try and touch you.

Trophies stay in their cases, clean and pristine, to be admired from afar. That's what your boss tells you. He tells you you’re a glass statue that’s only there to look pretty. Too delicate to be touched yet too beautiful to be ignored. If spending a few hours of looking pretty for evil eyes gets you paid, then you’d surely take your chances.

You catch the eye of one particular man. He’s older, much older than your current client. His ears are tuned into the conversation, but his eyes can’t help but linger on you. You watch his greedy gaze stare at you. You think it’s because he feels like if he stares long enough, he’ll suddenly get x-ray vision and be able to see all the parts of you.

You listen as he speaks to your client, a dry chuckle falling from his lips, the same as every other rich man in here.

“Priceless,” he calls you.

You definitely have a price, you think. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here tonight.

You accept his compliment with a practiced blush, flashing him a generic smile he’s too smitten to fully recognize. You thank him with the most honeyed voice you could muster, the same one you use for every night like this. His gaze lingers a little too long on you, and you feign innocence when you see the slight dip of your eyes to your cleavage and back to your client.

The night passes slowly like this. You can’t count how many conversations you’ve had to listen to- or fake listen. You try to pay more attention ever since that one job you were asked on your opinion of something after zoning out for most of the conversation. You never expected to be asked anything, so your stuttering was taken too kindly by your client. He’d reported your inexperience to your boss, who docked your pay that night.

Never again, you thought, as your hazy brain tried to keep up with the topic. Eventually, though, you were distracted by something across the room.

You were used to staring. You had to be. It was your job. You had to be prepared to accept the attention. You were trained to from the moment your boss found you in that dingy hotel alley. It was as deep in your blood and bones as stealing was. It was engraved into your flesh like the ink of a tattoo. Branded into the recesses of your mind until you craved it. Until you couldn’t function without it.

Sure you were afraid, but that didn’t mean you didn’t like it.

You weren’t used to this though. The intensity is what caught you off guard. You couldn’t pinpoint it, no, the cloud was too thick of tailored suits and expensive cologne.

You so graciously asked your post if you could slip away to the lady's room, whispering softly in his ear to convince him and earn his permission.

You peel away from his arm for the first time tonight, eager to escape the stuffiness of the room. You hear the quiet click-clack of your heels over the piano. The rhythm is gentle as you saunter off.

The whole way there, you can feel the intensity of someone’s gaze tracing the form of your swaying body. You feel the way their gaze dips in for every curve and contour of your body. You made sure to sway your hips even more as you disappeared behind the doorframe of the hall.

It was lined with large, wooden doors. None of which had labels. You only needed one though, the neon red sign hanging above the door at the end of the hall.

The cold chill of evening air pricks at your skin as you step outside. You sigh heavily, finally experiencing a moment of fresh air. The moon sits high in the darkness of night, leaking over the earth with its ethereal glow. You appreciate the moment of beauty of sounds of distant traffic and muffled music fill the silence.

Your moment is interrupted by the sound of a heavy door opening behind you.

You don’t look around. Instead, you continue to rub up and down your arms while admiring the moon’s glow. You confuse the backlit glow of blue with the glistening of moonlight just before the pungent smell of cigarette smoke invades your senses, tainting this captivating moment.

“Smoke?” You hear the rasp of his voice, but you still don’t turn around. Instead, you bask in the intensity of his stare, the same you felt inside. You feel chills dance down your spine, and you know it’s not from the cold.

“No,” you respond simply.

He doesn’t say anything, but you know he’s watching. You feel his attention radiating off him in waves, all of it directed towards you. You don’t know why.

You feel your heart pounding in your chest with every passing second, mildly afraid that if you turn around, you’d be greeted with some old geezer. Or maybe that guy from earlier who wasn’t to ogle his business partner’s partner. You surely didn’t want to be out here with him.

You figured it’d be better to just bit the bullet. So you turned around. And you were not disappointed.

He was tall. Much taller than any man in there. Much taller than you. Black hair sprouted from his scalp, combed back and shiny in the midnight gleam. You pretended not to notice the bulge of his muscles beneath his black suit, the seams contouring against his biceps. You noticed the scars of purple skin hanging from his lower lids. Another patch of it stretched across his jaw. Had the nightly glow not highlighted the silver staples and piercings in his face, you might’ve missed them.

You knew this familiar face. You knew the specific tint of turquoise in his iries. The particular demeanor he always wore on the news channels. You were far too educated on this man and his crimes.

“Dabi,” you whisper. His gaze stays trained on you. Suddenly, the attention you so desperately craved was almost too much to bear. You were outside in the open and somehow it felt more suffocating than the ballroom you’d left.

“In the flesh,” he says between drags. You’re close enough that you can feel the wafts of smoke drifting your way. Close enough that you can feel the warmth of his body. You’re just close enough.

“Didn’t think someone like you would be at a place like this,” you say. You whole-heartedly believe that. This place was full of shady businessmen and dangerous yakuza. Corrupt cops hang out in the same room as the very people they were supposed to take down. It was a function full of powerful people. And while Dabi, the infamous cremation villain, was certainly powerful, if not more then, you didn’t really imagine him in a nicely pressed suit with slicked back hair. You couldn’t imagine him finagling with uptight criminals and fancy rich bastards. Then again, you didn’t really belong here either.

“Could say the same ‘bout you,” you shiver at the way his gaze deepens at the mention of you. “What’s a pretty thing like you doin’ out here?”

You can’t tell if you liked his compliment or not. You hope it’s the former.

“I was invited by a friend,” you don’t think Dabi would expose you, but you knew you were a glorified actress. Had to play the part until that paycheck landed in your hand.

“A friend you say? Didn’t seem like much of a friend t’me,” he’s referring to the man. The man who’s probably too busy getting his ass kissed to notice you’ve been gone for far too long.

You only hum in response, glancing away to adore the moon again. You feel the strings of your job looping back onto your limbs, tugging at you, daring you to stay away for a moment longer.

You look back at your company, watching as he presses the lit tail of his cigarette against the back wall, you’re both leaning against. Well, you’re not really leaning against it. Your dress is far too expensive for that.

“How much they payin’ ya?” His question catches you off guard. You don’t let it show though. You only smile and tilt your head the way you were taught to.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

You hear the hoarse hum he lets out and you shudder, the sound of it weakening your resolve.

“You seem to think I’ma dumbass, doll,” you perk up at that, not too keen on pissing off one of Japan’s most wanted villains.

“N-no, I didn’t say that. I just-”

Tut-tut. You feel like a child with the way he stares you down. You’re too focused on his reaction to notice him closing in on you.

“Jus’ what? I know you’re not as stupid as those guys in there. Use your brain like a good girl and answer my question.” You try to ignore the way his nicknames send jolts to your clit. You brush off the sensitive way his gravelly scolding teases your body. You can’t quite do it though, lost in the trance that is Dabi.

“What was– the question?” You gulp, locked into a heated staring battle with Dabi. You don’t come back until you feel the rough texture of his knuckles graze your champagne toasted cheeks.

“I asked how much you were gettin’ paid to look pretty,” your mind is frazzled as you try to answer, searching for how much your boss said the deposit was. Unfortunately for you, the way his hands dance across your skin are far too distracting to pull a number up.

“D-dunno,” the smell of smoke and cigarettes clouds your mind. The flutter of his hands confuses you. You feel the ghost of his warm breath fanning out across your face as he dips down to whisper in your ear.

“Whatever it is…ain’t enough,” you shiver at the warmth of his tongue licking up the shell of your ear. You weren’t really expecting something like this to happen tonight. No, you were planning on a few hours of playing princess before going back to the office to get your payment and then going back to your shabby apartment.

Getting caressed by Dabi wasn’t anywhere in the schedule.

You feel one of his palms knead the plush of your cleavage through the thin fabric of your dress while the other grips the curve of his waist. You feel the dual-texture of his lips stipple hot, open-mouth kisses along your exposed skin. You whimper at the feeling of his teeth graze you, gasping harshly when they dig into the flesh at the junction between your neck and shoulder.

“M’not…not a p-prostitute,” you manage out between moans. You’re too dizzy with the feeling of his skin against yours. Everywhere he touches burns a little too much and yet not enough.

“Never said ya were,” he whispers against your neck. Little marks decorate your dark skin as purple and red marks bloom along the expanse of your collarbone. You feel his hands trail further down your body but his assault on your neck keeps you distracted. You don’t notice what he’s done until you hear the loud tearing of fabric. You gasp loudly, giving Dabi opportunity to press his lips to yours.

You’re barely given warning as both his tongue and his long finger dive into your holes simultaneously. You hear the wet squelching of his finger pumping in and out of your already wet pussy. You feel the damp slick of his tongue as he explores your mouth. You feel the vibrations of his near pornographic moans ripple down your throat and through your body.

“Not a prostitute,” he whispers against your bruised lips. “Definitely a slut for not wearin’ panties.” You moan sinfully into his mouth. The duality of his lips against yours competes with his finger curling inside you. You writhe gently against his hand, humping his palm desperately for some much needed friction. You reach one hand down to play with your clit, pressing sensual circles into the sensitive bulb. Dabi notices this.

You know this in the way his free hand leaves your hip and reaches for both of yours and lifts them up over your head. The rough texture of the brick cuts into your skin, stimulating your senses even further.

“Think a dirty whore like you gets to play with herself? Nah, you’ll cum when I tell you to,” whimpers leak from your plump lips falling directly into Dabi’s ears. You gasp pathetically as he uses the calloused pad of his thumb to rub circles into just the right spot.

You feel the pressure of his finger as he adds another, sliding his long, scorching hot digits through the slit of your pussy. Lewd sounds of your sopping wet cunt mixed with your heavy panting echo out into the dark of the night. You swear if you weren’t so fucking high off Dabi, you would care about potentially getting caught.

You’re too busy chasing your release to notice his subtle rutting against the silk of your torn dress. You don’t notice the spot of precum soiling the navy blue fabric.

Your breathing picks up rapidly as the coil in your belly winds and winds, the tension in between your thighs causes your moans to get louder. So loud, and so lewd.

You’re right there, so close. You feel the red-hot coil snap inside you.

Or you should’ve.

No, all you feel is the emptiness of your own leaky cunt. You whine desperately into Dabi’s ear.

“W-why’d you stop?” You’re breathless and tired, too tired to protest when he hoists you up. Your knees dangle over his broad shoulders as your back presses hard against the wall. You have no time to catch your breath before you feel his hot tongue delve between your folds. You mewl above him, completely overridden with lust as you feel him lapping up your juices.

He moans into you, sending vibrations directly to your clit. His hands leave a bruising grip in their spots curling around the back of your thighs. You feel the tip of his tongue swirl around your bundle of nerves before using his teeth and nip and bite, gently enough not to hurt but hard enough to rattle your body with waves of uncensored pleasure.

“Best fuckin’ arm candy I’ve ever had. So– ha– too fuckin’ sweet,” you hear him roughly speak into your cunt, along with other obscene curses.

You don’t know if it’s the sound of his voice or the heat of his body. You’re not sure if it’s the glisten of his skin in the moonlight or the way eyes look as he stares at you like some pussy-dunk fool. You’re certain his love bites and hickeys had something to do with it, and you definitely know it’s his fingers and tongue curling up into you, spreading your swollen lips, bullying your poor little clit.

You know it’s some combination of those things that has you cumming on his tongue, soiling his pretty face with your sweet juices. Even after your release, Dabi continues lapping at your cunt, slurping and sucking until his face is glistening in you. Until you're shaking and twitching on his shoulders. Until your eyes are rolled back in your head seeing white. A string of drool dribbles out the corner of your mouth.

Dabi doesn’t stop until your whining and whimpering, overstimulated because you’re just too fucking sweet. He doesn’t stop until you’re painting his tongue with your cum again.

Only when you’re panting heavy above him does he pull you down to normal height. You barely have enough energy to register he’s kissing you. You taste yourself on his lips and you savor it. You savor him.

You don’t feel him pull away until the kiss is suffocating. You’re a little sad when he does.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” you hear him mumble. He’s panting just as hard as you are but he doesn’t look nearly as disheveled as you. Your braids have loosened from the bun you put up, your baby hairs have lifted a little. Your mascara is a little runny and your cheeks are hot. Your plump lips are glossy with your slick coating them. Your dress is off the shoulder, but you feel they’ve dropped significantly lower than where they’re supposed to be. The mounds of your boobs threaten to spill over the neckline. Your dress is torn all the way up to your belly button. It’s not that you realize something.

“Y-you…my..dress. Already had a-a slit. Why’d you r-rip it?” You ask, pulling the slit in question closed. You feel the cool breeze slipping through the gap of your thighs and you shiver.

Dabi, like the asshole he is, just shrugs and smirks, “Easy access, doll.”

You watch as he pulls away. He runs a hand through his hair that you ruined, fluffing it back up into his signature spikes. You try to readjust yourself. You manage to do it, fixing your hair and make-up. You pull up your sleeves and tuck your cleavage into the dress as much as you can. Only thing you can’t fix is your skirt. You don’t even care.

You’re still coming down from your high, disoriented and dizzy. You look up to see Dabi’s lit another cigarette. You watch as he takes a few drags.

“W-what are you gonna do n-now?”

“Hmm?” He hums. You feel your pussy throb, achingly empty despite what just happened. Dabi flicks the cigarette somewhere in the dark before smiling sickenly at you.

“Finna go enjoy the party,” your lips part as you watch him towards the door you’d both come from. You watch, shocked as he opens it and looks back at you. “I’ll see ya inside, right doll?”

You watch as the door shuts. You left standing behind the building in the moonlit alley. You chuckle to yourself, running your fingers over your kiss-bitten lips. You run them lower to the marks etched into your skin. You smile up into the light, feeling so utterly ruined.

You don't sparkle anymore. Your skin is glistening with sweat instead of its usual essence of beauty. Your gown isn't pretty anymore, and you aren't worth the pearls and diamonds. Your smile is bruised, and your lashes are smeared. You're a trophy that's been worn and torn and you couldn't care less.

You're just arm candy. Except now you've been licked and bitten at, sucked raw and ultimately thrown away.

p.s. this is my first time writing smut, please let me know if any tips our how to improve <3<3

p.p.s this song was inspired by kitty kallen's song little things mean a lot

#dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #dabi x black reader #mha dabi #dabi #my hero academia #mha x reader #dabi smut

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deadupon · 11 months ago

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a visage that refuses to rest within the grave it had been given, unbeknownst to who had taken enough care to bury the body, and although there are no footsteps that sound, there is the faintest sight of white cloth that disappears down a hallway. it could have easily been mistaken for curtains rustling in the wind, but that does not explain the trail of blood that follows where footsteps should have tread, and the song that follows: a song they had danced to before, and how her voice seems to beckon: come to me. follow me, lover. in a voice that has long since perished, or at the very least should have, until they reached the empty ballroom. corpses strewn across the polished floors, positioned to stand as though they were waltzing, bleeding where they stood to create river of blood. they are familiar faces … those she had killed before, remnants of an adventure that seemed so long ago. they were all without hearts, carved out from their chests, and faced towards the vampire ascendant when he entered. phantom of a past that should not have been there, sat in the middle of hearts laid before her, and she smiles the moment she sees him. it is a hollow, almost eerie grin. she rises, stepping towards him like greeting a lover lost long at sea. “ astarion … ” one hand that holds his, the other digging sharpened nails into the side of his neck. similar to the stance of a pair about to waltz. “ you used to dance so beautifully … did you save me one? or did i come too late? ” as though by will, the corpses around them begin to twitch: their long forgotten bones cracking and breaking anew, eyes aglow with crimson light as they begin to dance. it is a broken sound of limbs fallen apart, surrounding them without once turning away as they twirled with far more precision than the animated corpses should. “ dance with me, lover. as we had, once. ” her hands around his neck, the cold metal of the ring ‘pon her finger making a permanent home into his pale flesh. “ i wonder … do you miss me? do you still speak my name? i’d not want you to feel lonesome, and so here i remain. to keep you company, never to leave your side … in sickness and in health. in slaughter and in solace. ” kira smiles up at him, “ but first … i will take what is due to me. ” and just as she had plunged her hand into his chest like a stake between the ribs, the dream ends, and she is gone again.

this mansion had become his kingdom, the mutter of cazador like venom on the tongue and instant death where it's warranted. or, torture until the ground is decorated in their tears and splashes of blood of forgiveness. truly he hates to do but it must be done if he were to keep the peace. of course, he was absolutely nothing like his former master, he's better... stronger... invincible. where there was love and adoration comes fruitful forgetfulness. he can live happily without the one he called his life and not the reason he could feel a faint thrum of a heartbeat in his chest.

all that has passed and gone after he ascended. nothing can hurt him ever again and that includes the loss of love.

however, it's when he's alone that @violevin strikes. there's a cacophony of whispers and sweet words of promise when he was just so naive. even sometimes he hears the faint keys played from the piano that are rooms apart but when he approaches, there's nothing there. no one. it's his mind playing tricks on him, he's so sure of it. ghosts don't exist. the spirits don't loom to agitate as a warning of trysts. except how can that be true when accompanied to help destroy the elder brain, he's come across so many other undead and even the ghosts of previous bodies.

they're real but how come kira doesn't show herself? it makes his teeth grind, brows furrow as his patience is slowly fraying to a thin line.

he takes the scenic route to his quarters, he hears her again. sees her face, hears her voice, and that familiar tune plays itself once again. " i know you're there, vile wench! " he bares his fangs, eyes a darker red than it previously. it's easy when he's in a foul mood because there's no vampire spawn in sight, hiding from the wrath lest they be chosen to hours or days of beatings. spotting the ballroom, the stench of blood is undeniable. not the good kind either, those that have sat out in the sun, laid to rot where all you taste is their gore.

disgusting. repulsive.

except these bodies are familiar in appearance, taking a step in not so carefully. he's the ruler of this house, why must he be afraid?

there, however, lays his long lost lover, a heart resting in her palms before she sees him approach. astarion... she whispers, the doors had slammed behind him, quickly turning around before looking right back to see she appeared right in front of him. you used to dance so beautifully … did you save me one? or did i come too late?

he shakes his head in near denial. he wants to lung forward and grip her by the throat, dig his nails into her skin to drink her blood but what he wants to will his body to happen, it doesn't. it's like an instinct. brows furrowing as a hand, by habit, rests upon her waist. his other carefully grasps her palm with his own, mingling victims blood like a reminder. there's a sting of pain that blossoms at his throat right where an active artery would be. he doesn't bleed.

suddenly, they're not alone. like puppets on strings, they lift to dance. like with a flick of wrist, the ballroom is glowing brightly, the faint sound of chattering heard by those that would be attendance. it's pretending to have the amount of life for a dance, except it has never been more dead, blood dripping from their eye sockets, wrists, and mouths. their outfits decorated so beautifully in this confetti of red, only it doesn't match the situation at hand. he's momentarily distracted until she speaks up again, her voice so sickly sweet but the purple iris' say another story.

she's bitter. she wants to take her revenge to haunt him any moment he gets too comfortable.

so they dance, spinning and making their rounds slowly. she speaks but her voice is an echo of a scream in his skull. it's annoying.

i wonder … do you miss me? do you still speak my name? i’d not want you to feel lonesome, and so here i remain. to keep you company, never to leave your side … in sickness and in health. in slaughter and in solace.

he bares his fangs again, body paralyzed against his will to move as if lovers would. " witch. " it's not endearing in the way he says it. a curse she is and forever will be. " i do not speak your name because you're no longer relevant. " funny. doesn't a husband remember that of which he's lost? he's only gained and it's so unfortunate she had to die. really, a loss. " i will never be lonely again, not when the love of my children exist. " ironic. what he says doesn't match the ache in his chest. oh, how he misses her so. it was a mistake. all of it. he didn't want to let her go but to be powerful, you must push away to that what holds you back. grieving a love is something normal but he sees it as weakness and weakness it will always be.

" i have thrived without you, my dear. and i will continue to do so. i don't need you. " and not once does he mutter a memory... his mouth opens to speak once more, except nothing comes out. a groan is only released feeling her hand suddenly tighten around his throat with her other suddenly dive into his chest like the search for a heart that's not even there. it's suddenly cold, and it felt so real that when he wakes, he lurches up from the comfort of his mattress, breathing deeply as fingers pat around on said chest. there's nothing there. he's sweating and for once since he's ascended, he's panicking; vision is fuzzy.

" kira. "

... until he does.

#m. astarion.#violevin #hey aria ( :

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tower-of-erinyes · 1 year ago

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Tick tock goes the passing of time.

How long had it been since the motive fist took effect? Days? Weeks? Months? With your rapidly decreasing sense of self due to each rest you've taken having drained one more memory from your core, you weren't quite sure. You've been so focused on what you've lost, that you haven't had much time to think about the memories you have been making in the present day, not that there's been many eventful ones since the party had taken place. Another night comes, and you dread just what you will have forgotten come the morning.

Once you awake, you have an absolutely pulsing headache. Unfortunately, with no sort of ibuprofen or anything around, you don't have much to stave off the numbing pain. You try to stumble out of bed, only to collapse to the floor once it hits.

Bit by bit, piece by piece.

Your childhood flashes before your eyes... In its entirety.

"Good morning dear Unfortunates. Please come to the hallway past the laboratory. We all have something to show you." A mischievous maliciousness could be heard coming from Atropos' words. You hate the fact you can't ignore them.

There was no fanfare while you made your way towards your destination at Atropos’ gleeful direction. When you entered the hallway, there was no show or fancy display. No noise, no bright lights, no decor, no sudden movements.

Just the body that you all dreaded you were going to find.

Was it easier now, the second time? Death had come to claim another, leaving the hollow flesh behind for those fortunate enough to have been left unscathed. Was it less haunting, the second time around? Or had enough time passed that you could have forgotten the twisted circumstances that bound you here, for even just a moment?

If that be the case, the sight before you was a most cruel reminder, a crippling blow to the stagnant days of illusory peace.

There wasn’t the slightest reprieve from the macabre scenery. There wasn’t even the luxury of being able to pretend he was just asleep. The stiffness, the rigidity to the slumped form made it all too apparent that any and all life had been wrung from the clammy flesh. Anyone could tell from even a cursory glance that this was a corpse, through and through. There could be no denying otherwise.

And it was only a matter of time, really, before someone else was to succumb to this cruel game. But few, if any, probably thought it was going to be him, of all people. It’s almost a little disappointing, a most unwelcome subversion of expectations. He had a commanding presence that swelled to fill the room, a smile that wavered between lupine and loyal, that could be used as both sword and shield, to comfort or castigate at his own whim.

He resembled a stranger when he was so lifeless. He looked so foreign in death. It couldn’t be him, surely, lying slumped in a pool of blood, arm chained over his head. It couldn’t be. This wasn’t right. He’d been so confident, so untouchable. He bore his heart between his teeth. He was one of those types, the one meant to survive, to just keep going. Scrappy and unsuppressable. Everyone always assumed that if he’d get knocked down, he’d simply pick himself right back up. It’s what was expected of him. It’s what he expected of himself.

Just keep going. Just get back up. Try again. And again. Over and over, until you get it right.

But reality was cruel, shattering any fantasies that he might have once borne on his slackened shoulders. This game, even more so - no, this wasn’t a game.

No matter how you might plead, his bowed head would never raise to meet your calls. He’d never get back to his feet. This was his final resting place. No more chances. It was, in the most literal of ways, game over.

Over the past week, there were many memories that had been lost to you. At first, it might have been a relief; now, though, one can’t help but think that it’s a shame the motive had come to an end.

Because the haunting sight of death in the halls would be one you wouldn’t be able to forget for quite some time.

Kesley Simmons, the Video Game Store Attendant, was dead.

"A shame what happened to him, truly. Though he is just as much of an Unfortunate soul like the rest of you."

Lachesis is attempting to put on the waterworks, though the disingenuous nature of it is extremely clear.

"Though enough prattle. Go on Unfortunates, I leave you with two hours to conduct your searches, just as before. He'll be cleaned up if you wait a moment longer."

[Art by Fang!]

#toeplot #chapter 2 #body drop

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sparkbeast20 · 2 years ago

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Tear new skin (Diavolo X MC X Barbatos)

This is part 5 of Cold and Warm Blooded Pt2 Pt3 Pt4

Summary: Diavolo let himself go, while Barbatos is conflicted to whether he should let his internal demon out.

Warning: Painful transformation, fleshes tearing, and Bone breaking

The whole castle is quiet, with the occasional roar and thrusting from Diavolo’s room. It was strong enough that you can hear and feel it from your room and throughout the halls when you walk around the halls, some paintings and hall decorations are tipped over or adjusted from their place. Every time you see them, you quickly fix them before moving on.

It's been two days since the last time you saw Diavolo. Every time you brought food to him. You can only leave it in the hall due to him being territorial and the whole hall is like an oven. You can only stand for like 5 to 10 minutes before you feel like you're being cooked alive.

Barbatos on the other hand. You actively avoid going down to his basement, fearing what you’re going to see. All you are able to do is knock on his door, and there’s to kind of respond you step away and go by your day.

Once you are done fixing the painting to head to the kitchen and start making lunch, all the while your thoughts are on how both Diavolo and Barbatos will act drastically different like what you witness in Diavolo’s room or do they act more like themselves with slight differences?

You had your lunch and left Diavolo his. You decide to sleep the afternoon away, knowing that that’s all you can do for the day.

As you lay on your bed and stare at the ceiling above you, all you can think is how are you going to deal with both Diavolo and Barbatos if they act more… demonic.

You close your eyes, let sleep take over you, and let your mind make those thoughts into dreams or nightmares.

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+

Looking down on the cup of tea right in front of him, Barbatos can’t shake the feeling that he's been drinking his tea and yet the cup is still full. He glanced up to see the being sitting beside him. Their faces are distorted and their voices are muffled. Then they reach down at the table and grab a plate of macarons then hand him the plate. He smiles and reaches out to grab the plate, as he is about to grab it the plate and the figure fades like smoke.

Barbatos was taken aback by the sudden disappearance; he kicks his chair away and quickly stands.

Barbatos’ vision blurs as he tries to speak but no works come out. The whole place surrounding Barbatos turns gray.

Next all the furniture vanishes and everything when dark.

All Barbatos hears is his own heartbeat, and breathing. He tries to reach out and walk, but nothing seems to be in front of him now.

What seemed like hours, Barbatos stopped walking and dropped to his knees and started panting, it felt like he was slowly losing his breath.

‘So you finally show up, old friend’

Barbatos’ eyes shifted frantically as his blood ran cold, he slowly looked over his shoulder to see who or what spoke.

Behind him were two large gates of a giant cage. He saw that the cage locks are destroyed and the thing inside the cage stares at him with his cold and unforgiving eyes. “You” he whispered.

‘Yes, it's been how long? Five to ten thousand years since we last spoke’

“Twenty to be correct”

‘Well at least one of us remembers how long I have been locked away’ The beast said it as cold as possible.

“And it was warranted, time has changed. You, the side that is just all primal desire and instinct has no place in my mind”

‘Well now, you are in mine domain. Until you are willing to let me out of this prison. You’ll be here with me.’ the beast laughs as he turns back further in the cage leaving Barbatos alone… again.

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+

The moment he kicks you out of his room, Diavolo slowly starts to change. More close to a dragon. His skin is turned into scales, his feet and hands as well as his nails turn into claws. And now he feels his lower back ache like hell.

After his last warning to you, Diavolo barely leaves his room, only to grab his plate of food out in the hall left by you. But today he can't even get out of bed… well what’s left of it. You didn’t know that due to the pain, Diavolo took his anger out on his room, destroying everything in sight. Right after he broke everything, he went on in his instinct and used the materials to make a giant nest in the middle of his room. Where he is now laying face down, groaning in agony due to the pain right above his ass where his tail bone is.

He knows what’s going to happen, he's starting to grow a tail.

Unlike Barbatos and the brothers with tails, he can only swing it, there is no dexterity to his tail.

In his frustration, his body reacts and starts to heat up again. He grunts in annoyance because it kinda forces him to get up from his nest so he can head to his bathroom to cool off.

He has to do it, otherwise he’ll burn the entire castle down. He's only doing this for your safety. He can survive the flames and Barbatos is the complete opposite to his heat so he has no worries for his friend.

Diavolo slowly pushes himself up and gets out of his nest, as he painstakingly walks towards the bathroom.

He instinctively reaches out to open the bathroom door, but he remembers that he burned it last night after his last trip.

He opened the tab and let the water fill his built- in tub as he headed to his sink and mirror.

As the tub is being filled, he splashes some water on his face to start his cooling routine.

As soon as the water hit his face, his whole face let out steam and the water quickly evaporated. He sighs in relief.

However it doesn’t last long, he can feel the lingering ache in his wings, he bents over the sink both hands on it. He slowly scratched his wings upward, he groaned with each moment, then a cracking sound made him stop and sigh before folding them back to him.

“Fuck…” he curse under his breath, this change is taking a toll on his body and is not getting any better anytime soon.

He knows that this will take a while, but not this long. Most of his skins are scales now, his more dragon than human looking. And yet, why does he feel like it is just halfway done.

All that takes his mind off from this change is you, and what he will do once this all ordeal is over…

“Diavolo…” a familiar voice sends a sudden jolt throughout his body, his eyes widen and his heart start to beat fast. He slowly turned his head to the tub and there he saw you naked sitting in the water beckoning to come to the water seductively.

He stared for so long that he was put under some sort of trance, a second later he turns his whole body around and slowly walks towards the tub. He watches as you walk closer to the side of the tub where he is at. He was too under the trance to notice that water didn’t move when you walked. When he is at the edge of the tub he drops down on his knees and you move closer to him and grab his face with both hands, and all he feels are you lightly phantom touch. “How-”

“My Beautiful prince… Oh how I do miss you, your strong jaw-” you tracing your finger on his jaw, before looking down on his chest “Your perfect cut chest” Than you move your fingers and start feeling his pecs. “But you're still not yourself” your soft and seductive tone vanishes at the end and turns deep and serious. When you look into his eyes, he doesn't see any emotion in your eyes. That snapped him out of his hypnotic trance and grunts before pulling away and taking five steps back.

“You're not them!” Angered, Diavolo starts to heat up as steam comes off of him.

“Clever Diavolo, however you’re only making things harder for yourself…” the figure morphed into a shadow and got out of the water. As he walks closer to Diavolo the figure slightly changes in the same shape as Diavolo. Diavolo back as the shadow moved closer “Can’t you sense him…? He is about to come out from his prison. And you’re still in this weak form!”

Diavolo knows who this shadow is talking about, and it boils his blood to no end. “Even in this form I can still beat him”

“Oh~ And I thought that the fallen angel was full of himself… By any chance are you subconsciously trying to prove something, hm?” The shadow stalks around Diavolo. “You truly believe that you don’t need me!” Diavolo clenches his fist. Then he summoned fire and hurled it to where the shadow was. Diavolo was shocked when the shadow disappeared from the room, before looking around and landed his sights on the door where he saw the shadow standing in his room. He growled, spreading his wings and flew out of the bathroom in an attempt to charge at the figure.

As soon he came in contact the figure disappeared and Diavolo ended up crashing into his wall luckily the magic he cast in the room kept the wall in one piece however cracks start to appear showing the magic is wearing thin.

He placed a hand on the wall helping get back on his feet. He groans in pain, the added frustration is causing to lose focus on his control. He can feel his skin getting tense as his muscles throbbing and swell. He tries to walk back to the bathroom so he can cool off his skin. But end up stumbling and falling forward in the middle of the room.

It was too late, he couldn't stop the change from happening, all he could do was groan in agony. Before he knew it he felt a sudden pain in his spine as his spinal bone grew short spikes going through his back starting from the back of his neck slowly going down his back.

As soon as it reaches his tailbone, like someone took a sharp object and stabs his lower back he screams in excruciating pain as his tail starts to grow.

He slowly prop himself up enough that his upper torso is off the floor, then a sudden surge of pain on lower abdomen which he reacts to cross his arms across his stomach with nothing supporting his body, Diavolo falls on his forehead, his back is arch.

Then he feels that his skin is suffocating him, the longer he stays like this the tighter he feels as if he's being squeezed to death as his bones slowly break, reform and shift beneath his skin. Left with no other opinion, Diavolo pushes up in a kneeling position on his knee and digs his claws into his chest where there his flesh remains and not being covered by his scales. He groans as he digs his claws deeper where he can feel his actual skin is. With one fell swoop he tore his skin off, blood splatter on the floor and roared as he continued to rip his ‘Human’ flesh off, tossing them to the side which were starting to burn into flames. All the while his hands and feet shift into something more dragon-like.

Soon he begins to grow. While his bones, changing his entire skeletal frame his shoulder blades moving his arms to make him stand on all fours.

The remaining flash on him quickly burns off, and finally he reaches up and grabs the flesh on his face, digs his claws deep and rips the flesh right off as his skull reforms jaw shifts into a snout, and teeth turns to fangs.

Once it's all done Diavolo stretched his wings up right, the tip of his was sharp enough to scratch the ceiling. He threw his head back and let out a booming roar, shaking the whole room. He slowly dies down and looks straight before looking around the room. Before landing his sights on the door that leads to the hall, he closes his eyes for a moment to get a good hearing of the place.

Then he heard it, he eyes quickly, deep in his domain he could hear footsteps running down the halls. He took one good sniff and there he can smell a soul…a human soul.

He grins before charging through forward and breaking down the wall. Whatever is left to keep Diavolo in has completely vanished, his free to roam through the castle to hunt.

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+

Barbatos can’t remember how long he was in this mindscape, ever since his other side left him alone. All that Barbatos can do is watch all the memories he has.

He is currently watching an old memory of him and Diavolo. This is when Diavolo tries to convince him to be his butler, if Barbatos can cringed this would be a good time to happen. He was slightly embarrassed about his past self and Diavolo.

“Just because you have the tea that I was searching for, I owe you my servitude? Inbred must have ruined the royal line…” Barbatos said slightly sarcastically. However from what Barbatos experienced with the other king he wouldn’t go past that demon just making fun of him.

All of a sudden Diavolo starts to laugh, which throws off Barbatos. Well he can give this demon something. At least he can laugh…

“Good one, hahah… If Mephisto heard that he would see you as an enemy to the kingdom for insulting the prince of devildom.”

Barbatos was thinking about it at times, he would’ve overthrown this demon. If it wasn't for his pact with Solomon he can kill him now and move on with his existence.

Current Barbatos heard all his past self was thinking. He feels embarrassed about how he used to think, he was bitter after he got into a pact with Solomon. Now only he was created without a purpose but back then he was bound to limitation by his “Master”.

He can understand what his younger self felt, so the idea being to serve another being he despises the idea of serving to someone.

But as time went on Diavolo showed that he wasn’t going to treat him any less.

Barbatos starts to smile as the montage of his life flashes, some were bad, good, tragic, and some were the best thing that ever happened to him.

Dispited he is the demon who has the ability to turn back time, he was content with his choices and he wouldn’t change any of them.

But then he has reached the last memory he had, and it was you talking to him. Suddenly everything in his mindscape got darker as he watched the memory play out.

As soon as you lay next to him, everything went dark and Barbatos quickly stood up. “No! There’s has to more than that-”

‘Your turning senile old friend…’ Insteadly gate of his other side appears right in front of Barbatos.

“There’s got to more than that! Did they leave when I fell asleep?-”

‘Barbatos! If you worry about them, then let yourself give in!’ the beast turns his face to the side, all Barbatos can see is the beast’s jaw and fangs, while the rest is hidden in the shadows.

“You would like that won’t you…” walk up to the gates and bang his fist on one of the metal bars. “I kept you locked away for a reason! You are the definition of my darkness. You are the constant reminder of what I despise about my creation. That I’m nothing more than just a tool of destruction” Barbatos glares into the cage as his eyes glow and he slowly shifts to his demon form.

The beast let out an annoyed deep hiss, before standing up and turning around. He stood up straight huffing his chest head looking down on Barbatos.

There it stands a Barbatos demonic side, a black and teal Salamander and Lizard-ish demon whose entire body length clocking at 25 to 28 feet long from nose to the tip of his tail. His height is around 10 to 13 feet when he stands with his chest prop up. On his back are fin-like wings which only helps him swim.

The beast flick his fork tongue and hiss before lowering his head to meet eye level with Barbatos. ‘If you can accept your past self, his actions and attitude then you can give me a chance… Tell me. What do you think I’ve been doing all this time?’

“Simple. Planning to escape…” quickly and simply, but Barbatos is surprised that the beast laughs, causing him to raise a brow.

‘From the start, yes. But I’ve seen what you've been through. Like you to your old self I came to realize how you’ve changed. From a demon who despises his creation to a loyal and one of the most powerful demons who is currently walking.’

Barbatos looks into the beast’s eyes to see if there’s any signs of sarcasm or deceiving but he couldn’t find it in his eyes.

“How can I trust your word on this?”

‘Because you view me as a different being, when in reality you and I are the same being. The real question is can you trust yourself to have such freedom again? Even with someone you hold dear willing to stay by your side in your moment of weakness? MC is scared for you, Barbatos.’

“They shouldn’t be scared for me. I should be scared for them. They're all alone in the castle waiting for one of us to… Tame ourselves…”

‘Ah see? You finally get your real reason to be here. It is easy to know your goals. But actually doing something takes realization. Your plan tamed me and so did Diavolo with own demon. But you both worry on the surface when in truth you two are stopping yourselves’

He was right. Barbatos feared losing himself with this part of him and let the beast control when in truth all he had to do was accept that part of him as his own rather seeing it as a different entity.

He looked up and stared straight ahead looking into the eyes of his beast and he saw the iris with the sclera pitch black. He took a slow and calm breath and slowly reached both hands and placed them on the bars of the cage. He whispers open and soon the cage slowly opens as both he and the beast slowly take a step back away from the cage as it opens.

A moment of silence filled the air as the beast took one step of the shadow and tilted his head at Barbatos. “We have an understanding. No harm comes to MC. I have a strong assumption that my lord is letting his other side in control so there is no avoiding confrontation with him once we come out of our chrysalis?” end it with a brow raise.

But all the beast responds with a fanging smile and ‘Our?’

Barbatos flashes a close eyes smile back to the beast with placing his thumb and index finger on his chin. “My mistake” with one chuckle from Barbatos. They took that as a sign. With one quick strike the beast lunges forwards and devours Barbatos. And everything went dark.

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+

The sound of a shell cracking echoes throughout the stairway of the room. The torches you like everyday went out as the black and teal chrysalis began to break. The thing moves around itched to be set free it fins, claws, horns and tail push outward managing to break the hard outer shell leaving the inner paper like shell. It placed its claw on the last shell dug its claw on the shell piercing it and tore it enough to push its snout out through the newly made hole. It hissed, then snarled once its whole snout was out and felt the cold air of the room.

With one last push, it slid out of the chrysalis off the pillar where said chrysalis is placed and slid into the water below washing away the slime and glistening like gel over its body.

It swam towards the stairs and emerged from the water, hissing as it flick its forked tongue then snarled when it caught your scent. It looks up from the bottom of the stairs then flicks his tongue to get a better sense. But then it smells something else in the air, it fades from its standing but it senses a domineering aura moving around. Then it heard a loud roar from upstairs powerful enough to shake the entire Castle.

It hissed in reaction before quickly climbing up the stairs stealthy, once it made its way to the entryway of the room it stopped and stared at shuttered right next to the door.

This was the first time Barbatos saw himself like this. In his demonic form.

“It's such a long time being in this form” He smiles at his reflection, his black slick skin with teal reflective glisten when the moonlight seeps through the windows of his room.

But before he could get a moment to look at his form, another roar shook the castle. Barbatos sighs knowing that Diavolo has completed his transformation and is now looking for you. However Barbatos tells from how Diavolo’s roars are. He's getting frustrated. And knowing his temper, it is best that he finds you first, before his master does.

End of Part 5

Tagging: @hobin-gnoblin

Note:

Hi, yeah so this was suppose to be the last part, but when I was checking the word count, it was 6k words and I wasn't even at the part where MC try to calm Diavolo and Barbatos yet!!

So there will be another part after this, and hope to be the last part.

Any who, here's the transformation part of the story, I might have unintentionally maybe made Dia's transformation kinda macro?!? It wasn't intentional I swear! I had to listen some werewolf and dragon asmr and story podcast to get the transformation part right.

Plus I never knew that macro was a thing, who knew hehe XD

Also here are the links to Lucifer's, Mammon's, and Levi's solo pairing in this AU

If there's grammar or spelling error, please let me know and don't be shy to leave a comment or rebloging with cute tags. I just love to see you guys thoughts on this :3

#obey me #omswd #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me diavolo x reader #obey me barbatos x reader #obey me mc #obey me monster love #obey me blue lotus petals #obey me blood

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sylverstorms · 4 years ago

Text

Cassandra x Maiden----Anonymity Ch.2

Chapter 1.

From a molten orb in the sky, the sun descends to nothingness and gives way to the pale light of the moon.

Another day has come to its end. And somehow, you’re still alive.

Still alive and still cleaning the massive library of castle Dimitrescu. It took you the entire evening, but you’re finally almost done. Only a couple more shelves to go and you can get some much-needed rest.

The cloth in your hand doesn’t slow for even a second as it rubs over every mahogany inch within your reach. You keep your eyes on the rows upon rows of ancient books and their decorated spines, to forget exactly how high up you currently stand.

You don’t think you could breathe normally if you look down. No, your eyes refuse to go that route…

That is, until something small and black dances in out the corner of your vision. An insect, barely the size of your pinky nail, decides this is a good time to distract you. It is not. You ignore the creature to the best of your ability, but its insistent buzzing around your head, closer to your ear every time, eventually drives you to madness.

You swat it off. Unsuccessfully.

The ladder gives a tiny creak in protest that sends your heart into overdrive. Fuck you, you think. This stupid fly isn’t worth the danger.

But then…

A painful sting comes at the crook of your neck, like a curved needle driven harshly into your flesh. It is more of a slash than a bite; your eyes immediately prickle with unshed tears, your back tenses so hard you nearly pull a muscle right there. Instinctively, you jerk and slap the creature off of you.

The ladder wobbles from the sudden movement.

Your fall becomes a certainty.

What a messed-up sense of humor the universe has. In a house full of killers, you muse, you’ll die from a cracked skull because of a bloody fly. It’s so pathetic it is almost laughable.

A rush of air whooshes behind you, followed by the sound of a thousand tiny wings batting. By the time you realize what just transpired, a familiar body crashes into your back, half pinning you against the bookshelves and half supporting you on the now steady ladder.

Of course. Cassandra.

You know it’s her because you recognize her spicy perfume and subtle hint of bath salts underneath its fragrance. You don’t want to, but it is a scent that has lingered in your senses longer than you’d like. Longer than makes sense, considering you haven’t seen her in nearly three whole weeks.

You don’t know if you should be grateful for her saving you, since she’s also the reason you damn near fell to your death.

How did you not think it was one of the daughters messing with you, you wonder, when you saw the odd fly? Then again, you didn’t think they were capable of remote controlling just one and so precisely.

“Hello again, Miss Delicious.” she purrs by your ear. “Miss me?”

You somehow fight off the shiver that threatens to roll down your spine. She’s far too close to your neck, while blood steadily oozes, warm and thick, out of the wound there. What’s worse is your hands are glued to the sides of the wooden ladder from the shock, with no hope of releasing it anytime soon. You can’t push her away. Not that it would have made any real difference, considering her strength. But the thought you just can’t makes the situation ten times worse.

You are helpless. You are prey.

Cassandra’s breath ghosts over your skin. The fabric of her hood tickles your ear as she leans in. She’ll lick the blood away, you think. You brace yourself for it. Just a quick brush of tongue –hopefully— and that will be it.

You are not so lucky.

As if this isn’t already too much, Cassandra adds her tongue into the mix. She licks you like you’re her ice-cream, getting a small taste at first, then pressing into the wound when it doesn’t supply enough blood to satisfy her. Your lips part soundlessly; you don’t want to know if the sound that would have escaped them is a cry or a moan.

Instead, you feel soft lips close around the injury, trapping the precious beading crimson there. A languid suck comes that seems to last forever.

Your stomach free-falls with how it drops. Your arms tremble for reasons beyond the strain you’ve put on them.

It—hurts.

It hurts, but. The proximity, how she keeps her mouth on you and the way she’s starting to almost grind into your backside are so unbearably erotic the pain only heightens sensation. You are holding your breath, at this point, because you don’t know what is happening, if you like it, if you hate it –but oh God what is she doing with her tongue— if she’s killing you or having sex with your neck.

“Cassaaandraaa!”

Lady Dimitrescu’s voice echoes throughout dark corridors to reach your ears. The sound is faint to you but it must be blaring for the daughter because she jumps, startled.

It is time for dinner and she’s late. the small part of your brain that still functions and hasn’t yet been reduced to a hormonal mess is quick to point out.

Cassandra lets out a shaky breath –growl?— past her teeth that feels way more frustrated than it sounds. For a second, you think she’s leaning back towards your ear as if to whisper a secret…

But then, the solidity of her form breaks into hundreds of buzzing insects. She is gone the next instant past the open doors as though a ghost, an apparition never truly there in the first place.

You stand on shaky legs, confused on all levels and desperately trying to catch your breath. You want to just get down from this fucking ladder and take a shower, then dress your injury and finally go to sleep. You want to forget whatever the hell this was and you do not want to see her unreasonably attractive face in your dreams.

Your legs don’t feel like they can adequately support you, but you clench your jaw and fight your way down regardless.

The long route is taken to the maids’ rooms, just to avoid going anywhere near the Dimitrescu family. Once you’re safely in your bedchambers, you shrug off your clothes and head straight for the showers.

The cool water does wonders for your body after the hours of work you’ve endured. Being in its embrace for a while, you think you’ve washed the day completely off of you. Yet as soon as you brace your arms on the wall, it’s like you’re trapped one hour back in time. Suspended mid-air with her behind you, her mouth perfectly fitted to the junction of your neck.

The faucet nearly breaks with the force you put into shutting it. This accursed family has already taken your life under their control. They cannot be allowed to take your thoughts, as well.

It takes a long time for your shivers to die down under the heavy covers of your bed. When you’re finally warm enough, exhaustion takes over. Your eyes droop shut and you fall into the world of dreams. Yet even there, it seems, there is no escape. No sanctuary to be found.

You are chased down corridors filled with gore, while insects nibble at your arms and back. Creatures with way too many rows of teeth groan and hiss and gain in on you. You don’t want to die. You don’t want to die—

Somewhere in the depths of your nightmare, you feel the bed beside you dip. A cold touch that you later tell yourself is just a leftover from the nightmare brushes over the fresh cut that’s reopened from you straining your throat.

When your eyes snap open in the darkness of your room, however…

You are all alone.

Meanwhile somewhere in castle Dimitrescu…

Cassandra steps out of the shadows to join her two sisters, seated opposite from each other on the luxurious couch and playing Snakes and Ladders. Of course, they didn’t have the decency to wait for her. Their mother is off to the side, smoking at the balcony.

Three sets of eyes briefly fall on the middle daughter and she doesn’t like it one bit. Daniela’s subtly heterochrome gaze lingers, her mouth twists into the shit-eating grin that signals only trouble and Cassandra knows to wrap her fingers –lightning-fast—around her neck before she can call her out for being late. Some things are just better left unsaid.

Except, Bela looks up at her under her hood and gives a little smirk. Cassandra can only really choke one of them. Don’t say anything stupid. She warns with her eyes.

Bela, the traitor, speaks up anyway. “Not like you to be late twice in a row, sister. Especially at dinner. What has you so distracted, lately?”

“You’re dead.” Cassandra mouths, fingers tightening around Daniela’s neck, who is trying, unsuccessfully, to hit her. Then, in her nicest voice, since their mother can now hear, she replies “Some of us have actual hobbies, Bela.”

“Sounds interesting.” the elder sister hums.

Cassandra makes the mistake of releasing Daniela to advance on her, but— it is a grave mistake. “Hobbies as in the huuuuman you’re thirsting after—” A swift elbow flies at the youngest Dimitrescu’s side but she blocks it. “Hey. Hey, Bela. What do you call something that’s both horny and hungry?”

“…Horngry?” Bela chuckles.

“Cassandra.” Daniela cackles and Bela –this fucking traitor— snickers. The brunette doesn’t even want to check their mother’s reaction—

Alcina drops her forehead onto her palm.

It’s decided. Cassandra is killing Daniela for the greater good.

Ko-Fi

#cassandra dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #resident evil village #cassandra dimitrescu x oc #lady dimitrescu's daughters #bela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #fanfiction #maiden lucky or unlucky? you decide #thank you all for your comments on the last one! i read every single one

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crimsonrae · 4 years ago

Text

Drowned Desires

Summary: Pirates plunder wasn’t always jewels and gold. Sometimes their bounty was flesh. Captain Cavill had found his treasure in the shape of a feral woman.

Pirate!HenryxOFC

Warning: Kidnapping, coercion, trapped, spanking, ultimatums, dry humping, masturbation. Dark Themes below. read at your own risk.

A/N: I have written and rewritten sections of this several times, but it took nearly deleting it all by accident to get me to post. I hope you all enjoyed.

Drowned Desires

Wooden planks whined and groaned as waves licked and lapped at the ship's underbelly. It was a familiar tune, as much as the heavy thumps of feet upon the deck, the clash of swords, and the cries of men – so familiar that the Captain heard none of it as he perused the papers and trinkets hidden away in the desk of his now fallen counterpart.

His men never understood his predilection for ship diaries and official correspondence, not when there were shinier prizes at hand. Yet, he understood what they did not...information would always fetch a far higher price than any piece of jewelry – not that he didn’t take his share of that too.

A faint smirk spread lazily across his lips as he drew his finger across beautifully inked letters that denoted the mark of nobility. His mind already hungered for the letter's contents – for what could nobility want in the Caribbean wild?

“Captain!” Sapphire-iced eyes flicked to the cabin door with disinterest before returning to his venture, “Captain!”

With a roaring slam, the door flew open to reveal his first mate, but he was not alone. A wild maelstrom of silk impressively blocked the large man from view as guttural grunts and screams filled the cabin.

Henry raised an innocuous brow as he watched the virulent struggle, silently amused by the brief glimpses of frustration on Brooks’s face as he maintained his hold on what Henry could only assume was a feral girl.

“Be quiet!” Brooks barked, finally having enough as he shoved the girl to the ground. His bulky frame took up the entirety of the cabin’s exit as he glared almost mutinously at his captain.

Henry licked his lip and smirked before peering curiously over the edge of the wide desk to the sprawled form below. A mass of hair flipped back to reveal a startlingly beautiful and mature face. Unbidden, lust stirred within his veins.

Not a girl, then. A woman.

A very angry woman, Henry mused as he sat back and stared at his first mate, “Is there a reason why she’s not locked in the stores with the others?”

“She ripped Thatcher’s ear clear off, Captain. He’s demanding recompense.” Brooks intoned wearily as he kept a watchful eye on the now oddly quiet woman.

Henry’s brow arched higher, if possible, as again he leaned over the desk to take in the fallen woman. She was paying him no mind, having come to her knees. Her eyes shifted about the room as if looking for an exit or a weapon. It was then that Henry was able to note the faint glimpse of red staining her skin – not on her hands, but her neck and mouth. It wasn’t hard to deduce what Thatcher had attempted that had cost him his ear.

“I take it young Mr. Thatcher, is currently being attended to which is why he’s not here to plead his case.” Henry murmured, as he took in the long line of her throat and the gentle swells that teased the hem of her bodice. Blood had stained her flesh here too, but he found his cock twitching despite her dishevelment. He could see why Thatcher had chosen her.

“Aye, Captain.”

“And what say you, woman?” Henry queried lightly, smirking as her gaze finally alighted on him. Wariness, fury, and a touch of fear – but not as much as he expected, “Should I let Thatcher have his pound of flesh?”

She said nothing, her fine eyes narrowing into a fierce glare. It made him want to grin. How had Thatcher missed the fire she emanated? But then, the deckhand was not the brightest of his crew.

Henry tilted his head, “Oh, don’t play mute now. Not after the ruckus of your entry.”

He barely had the words out when something wet hit his cheek. If it were possible the entire cabin stilled, even the creaking of the ship had quieted. The captain’s amusement with the situation had disappeared as he stoically wiped the spittle from his person.

“I suppose I should be grateful to still have my ear.” He muttered with deceptive gentleness as he leveled a cold stare onto the woman. She stiffened in preparation of an attack, but none came as his attention turned back to his first mate, “Leave us.”

There was a moment of hesitation before the cabin door swung shut with as decorous a roar as it had been opened. To the woman still kneeled on the floor, it was almost like hearing a nail pounded into her coffin. There was little point in trying to leave. She would merely end up on the deck with the savage crew that had taken the ship hostage. If she were lucky then she might make it to the water, but that was only a slower death.

“What’s your name?” His words were measured and deliberate, “And do not spit at me again lest you wish to feel the back of my hand.”

“...Mary.” She muttered after a moment.

Henry snorted, her pause had given her away, “Too pious a name for you. Try again.”

She huffed indignantly, but acquiesced, “Elowyn. Elowyn O’Dara.”

There was a faint lilt to her voice that agreed with her name, though even this moniker seemed too tame for her spirit, “Ms. O’Dara, why aren’t you locked in the stores with the other passengers?”

If eyes were daggers, he’d be dead as her glare became pointed, “Your man already told you.”

“Surely, you don’t simply have a predilection for tearing off ears – or shall I say a taste.” He prodded, wanting his suspicions confirmed, “What exactly provoked you?”

“He looked at me funny.” Elowyn hissed bitingly.

Henry pursed his lips, a reproach on the tip of his tongue when better sense prevailed him. Despite the grand silks she wore, her gown was ill-fitted. The sleeve came within a breath of falling off her shoulder and her speech while refined was far blunter than any gentlewoman. He had a new suspicion about his little spitfire.

“Is that all it takes?” Henry taunted as he towered over her. Well aware that her dangerous mouth was aligned to an appendage far more valuable than an ear. In fact, it was the image of her mouth and that appendage which enticed him to draw closer still, forcing her to tilt her head back to meet his gaze and avoid undue embarrassment. He swore that he could feel her breath even through the thick leather of his trousers.

Elowyn growled, though the flush of her cheeks belied any indifference, “Why should it take more?”

“I think it would take more.” He stated quietly. His finger curled under her chin and urged her to stand. He wanted the full measure of her. Not the defiant victim she had curled herself into.

The fabric of her gown swished and whispered as it draped around her body like a protective cloak. Her eyes sparkled wildly at him, warily – like twin pillar flames of a candelabra. He had no doubt that she would attack him as fervently as she had his man if he were to push his luck. He was tempted to try anyway...but a greater desire lurked in his heart.

She would bend to him first.

He let his finger trail down the line of her throat as he kept his gaze locked with hers, taking in every twitch and tremble that she tried so valiantly to hide. His touch smoothed across her shoulder, warm and chafing against her delicate flesh until, at last, he reached that clinging hem.

Almost thoughtfully, he traced that strained neckline, “Tell me, did your mistress press you into her dress to hide, or have you been trying to pass yourself off as a gentle lady for your voyage? Graces and airs do open many doors.”

Elowyn stilled as his words took home, “I’ve no idea of what you speak.”

“I’m sure you don’t.” Henry hummed knowingly, “A good liar you are not, Ms. O’Dara. Which makes me inclined to think you were pressed into this gown. However, like recognizes like and I think I’ve merely unsettled you.”

“The devil would be unsettled by you.” She murmured; heat resonated through her bosom as his fingers hovered over her swells, but he didn’t touch... just teased.

He grinned roguishly, amused by her scorn, “Either way... it does beg the question, how are you going to keep yourself from ruin? Even if you leave my presence – and that of my crew’s untouched – you’re still caught in something of a predicament, lass.”

Confusion furrowed her brow at his words and only deepened as he stepped away from her to lean against the ornate desk behind him. Smug and insufferable it galled her to ask after his meaning, “The only predicament I’ll have is giving the navy a name for the swine that dared board this ship.”

Henry barked a sharp laugh before giving a mocking bow, “Why Captain Henry Cavill at your service, milady? But do you honestly think that if I were to return you to the stores below that assumptions wouldn’t be made?”

Elowyn’s lips pursed, a silent refusal to entertain his inquiry. It only delighted him.

“You’ve been gone too long, lass. They know why Ole Thatch took you. Probably already assume that you’re dead. And let’s say you were pressed into this gown by your mistress... Loyal though you were, what use does she have for a spoiled maid? Best to send you on your way. And if you are a gentlewoman, word of your ruin will reach all and sundry before the ship is even done being berthed. No hoity-toity wealthy gentleman will look at you twice. All your prospects gone.”

Her cheeks were scarlet with humiliation, and she gritted her teeth as she scolded him, “Does this please you? These cruel games? I demand to be taken back to the stores.”

His eyes twinkled mirthfully, “Oh that’s it, Luv. Not bad for a gentlewoman, but you should tremble a little more to sell it.”

She barely bit back a snarl, even as her body moved without permission. To the surprise of both Henry and Elowyn, her slim hand snatched the pistol tucked into his belt and had it pressed under his chin before either could blink.

“Get. Off. This. Ship.” She sniped, hand minutely trembling as she stared straight into his now unimpressed eyes.

Outside the sounds of battle and the thumping of steps had dwindled to a steady few. His crew had overwhelmed the other and were taking what ever they could find back to the Kalliope. His time aboard was limited anyway... but still, it wouldn’t do to have this slip of a girl think she gained the upper hand. No longer was he willing to see her submit, but he would see her pride broken.

It was time he acted like a pirate.

“I intend to.” He murmured.

It wasn’t what she had expected him to say, and her moment of bafflement worked to his advantage as he ducked down and threw her over his shoulder. She screamed in much the same way she had in entering the room.

He heard the soft click of his gun and grinned when she comprehended that there was no bullet to be shot. He had used his powder on boarding, his pistol now a pretty decoration for his ruthless image. Her screams became even more enraged.

He chuckled and ignored her pounding fists to his back as he stepped out to the deck, “Brooks!”

His steadfast first mate appeared with nary a word and a raised brow. Yet, Henry knew he wouldn’t ask the question dancing on his tongue, “Ms. O’Dara will be joining us. See to it that the rudder of this ship is disengaged and gather the men back aboard Kal. I want to be sailing with the wind within the hour.”

“Aye, Captain.”

No further words were spoken nor needed between the two though that hardly stopped the squalling of the harridan thrashing his back. Grunting in frustration, he crossed the boarding ramp in two steps as his palm placed a resound slap onto Elowyn’s wriggling rump. A silent warning to be still which she did not heed.

“Put me down!”

It must have been the hundredth time she had shrieked this, but as Henry crossed the threshold of his cabin he decided to finally obey, “Very well.”

Grim amusement touched his lips as he tossed her onto his bed, her skirts flew wild, and he caught a tempting glimpse of the thin cotton of her bloomers. Those would not last long, like the whores of Nassau she would learn to stay bare beneath those skirts.

Ever defiant, Elowyn flew up from her supine position and slid from the bed before he could blink. Her speed was impressive, but she was not fast enough to beat the closing of the door as the lock clicked into place. Smirking, Henry seized the bottle of whiskey from the corner of his desk as he fell languidly into his chair to watch the despairing storm that descended upon his captive.

Elowyn yanked heartily on the handle, a torrent of panic and anger spurning her heart. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, and she was furious to find a sob pulling at her throat as the sands counting down her freedom quickly dwindled. She could not be trapped here. It simply was not to be born.

All the while, Elowyn could feel his gaze burn into her back. Not for the first time her stomach clenched under the weight of his attention. She detested the stirrings of lust his visage had enticed; his quiet perusal of her body had done much to set a simmering awareness along her skin that could only be calmed by the touch of another.

She slammed her palm against the hardwood of the door as her head became bowed with defeat.

“I am no one’s whore.” Her voice hoarse from her screams broke the expectant silence.

For a moment, the captain wondered if she could read minds. However, the longer he was in her presence the more he thought she was an innocent maid... if only her protest had not been so despondent. Tired. Bitter. As if this was a situation not uncommon.

“Aren’t you?” The words were spoken with seemingly little thought as Henry took a light swig from his bottle. A pleasantly harsh warmth burned over his tongue and down his throat as the dark liquid sought out his blood.

A low snarl emanated from her, and Henry watched curiously as she whirled to face him. His breath was stolen by the fury in her watery gaze. Her lips had curled back into a sneer, and she stood defiant. Wrathful, proud, and stunning. She was Circe reborn.

The entertained glint that shined in the face of her rage, merely cemented her ire as she strode across the room with the full command of a Goddess. She let the dress fall from her shoulders to twist and drown around her torso before falling lost to the floor. She trod on it and over it with little care.

Henry devoured the view of her corset and bloomers. Her curves were more pronounced with the clinging material of her undergarments and yet not enough. He’d rather see her bare.

Elowyn pointedly ignored the hunger of his countenance and snatched the whiskey from his hand. Her throat bobbed deliciously as she downed one mouthful and then two before throwing the bottle at the very door she longed to escape through.

A sharp thunk and the glittering clatter of shattered glass echoed through the cabin. Henry arched a brow in mild disappointment, “That was a very expensive bottle.”

“That I’m sure you stole.” Elowyn countered as she moved to straddle his lap. Her gaze was taunting as her fingers laced into the collar of his shirt, “Is this what you wanted, Captain?

He hummed, amused by her show of bravado, and respected her attempt at taking control, but he could see the quivering girl just below the surface. He delved his hands beneath the hem of her corset, gliding calloused fingers around the satin flesh of her waist. Goosebumps raised like waves in a storm at his touch.

A sharp gasp left Elowyn’s throat as one hand slid down beneath her bloomers to grasp the firm muscle of her bottom and squeeze. It was like lightning had been released across her hide. Visceral mordant liquid pooled in her loins, and she tried not to squirm. She didn’t want him to see how affected she truly was, even as evidence blossomed across the flimsy material guarding her.

Yet, as she held his dark stare, she swore that the staccato beating of her heart had given her away. A cool thrill shivered across her skin, only to be chased by a flaming warmth that she could not control. Beneath the rough cotton of her corset, her nipples puckered and pebbled, and she felt a shameful heat spread over her breasts to her collar and up her neck.

He hadn’t even kissed her.

He leant forward, teasingly drawing his lips along the shell of her ear. Henry grinned at the small shivering whimper that spilled from her lips at such an act. He had to wonder if she was worried that he would do to her what she had done to Thatch. Tauntingly, his tongue shot out and suckled her delicate lobe into his mouth as her knuckles whitened to match his collar.

She mewled prettily and arched into his hold, unable to voice the word stop. He wouldn’t have, even if she begged.

He lathed attention to her sensitive appendage for another few seconds before gently nipping the tender flesh, “I think this what you wanted, lass.”

She swallowed tightly and tried to bring forth the dispassionate woman that had brought her to his lap, “No.”

“No?” Henry almost sang, a wicked grin spreading across his lips. He nuzzled the plush swell of her cheek, breathing a kiss to the corner of her mouth as his fingers made quick work of the laces of her corset. A faint copper taste dazzled his tongue – had she enjoyed the taste of Thatcher’s blood?

Her breath hitched as she felt the boned fabric slide from her bosom. It took every ounce of strength not to fold her arms in and hide. She had tried to out bluff the monster but had goaded him into action instead. Brute violence would not remove her from this situation. She knew this instinctively, and as his bristled cheek chafed against the silk of her neck and chest, Elowyn became uncertain if she wanted to be removed.

Gossamer licks of pleasure pulsated from his rough skimming, and his hot breath ignited a current of desire that made her stomach clench with need. She felt suddenly empty and as his supple lips latched onto her pointed teet, she keened. Unthinkingly, she rocked into his pelvis in a feeble attempt to fill the throbbing void between her legs. Her cunt dripped and twitched needily as he suckled.

Elowyn sputtered and gasped at his forceful pulls, pressing down harder into his lap and ultimately onto his erection. She wasn’t sure when, but her fingers had delved around the bandanna holding back his wild mane as she tried not to fall into his ardent mouth, but she was helpless against his assault. He would devour her.

“Please.” She breathed.

Henry smiled and lightly bit down on her tortured tit, admiring the dark hue her sensitive flesh had garnered from his attentions, before moving his attention to her other breast, “Please, what?”

She arched as he began his attack anew. Her hips coming alive as she undulated frenetically against him. A pressure had started to build, a delicious force stood just out of reach and she just... just needed.

Henry’s strong hands dug into her hips stilling her movements. He knew that she was on the cusp of climax. He could smell the heady scent of her arousal, but such satisfaction would not be had until she took his cock.

Elowyn wailed in frustration, “Please!!”

“Please, what?” He iterated again. His fingers latched onto the seam of her bloomers. One fierce tug would be all he needed to tear her undergarment in two.

Her pride screamed at her to remain silent, but the wanton in her demanded she cave. Elowyn bit her lip as she tried to stave off another plea. Instead, she sought out the lace of his breeches and swiftly freed him of his leather confines.

Henry allowed her this and watched with a jovial grimace as she took in his hidden pistol. Her eyes widen at his size, her thighs clenching over his at the thought of taking him. He would not fit, but he would certainly fill her. She dragged a curious nail over his weeping head, jolting as his manhood twitched and bobbed under her innocent exploration.

He hissed, “Either suck me off, lass, or finish your request. If I must choose what comes next, you will find little pleasure in my actions.”

Her gaze flew up to his, noting the seriousness she found staring back at her. She swallowed tightly, “T-take me.”

A cruel grin twitched at his lips, “Take you where?”

She bristled at his mocking, “Copulate with me, like the pig you are.”

SMACK!

She gasped at the pain that flared through her hind-side and barely refrained from moaning as the reverberation echoed with her desire.

Henry tutted, “Name-calling when you’re begging? Not very gracious. Especially as you were the one to come to me, Luv.”

“Bastard!” She spat and choked on another moan as he assaulted her rear once more.

He grinned, “Enjoy that do you?”

She cursed him again and he laughed, “Should I take the cat and nine tails to you? What a saucy minx you’re turning out to be.”

“I loathe you.” Elowyn murmured through gritted teeth, “What do you want from me?”

He smiled bitingly at her, “Ask nicely and remember my title.”

She growled and tore from his hold as her pride won out for the moment. He watched her with the gaze of a predator as she discarded the last of her garments. She flung herself onto his bed and splayed her legs wide. She would not capitulate to him.

At least not verbally.

Henry’s mouth watered greedily as her nimble little fingers delved and played with her soaked mound. She was playing a very dangerous game. She stroked her sweet little nub with feverish intensity, allowing her moans to fill the cabin like a sonorous symphony. She put on a lovely lurid show and he couldn’t pull his gaze away as she ran a finger along the edge of her cunt, teasing him with a view of her seeping hole. It took little time for her to find that pleasure peak again and even less for him to lose his patience.

In less than three steps he was between her legs, knocking her hands away from her lush garden.

In two breaths, he was poised at her entrance.

In one kiss, he speared her with the intensity of a hunter claiming his prey.

He swallowed her raucous cry and reveled in the silent tear the swam down her cheek as he brutal entrance. Unbridled heat scored up his manhood as her wet cavern suckled him reluctantly to her womb. He had warned her what would happen if he were to choose.

Groaning, he could not still for long and raised his knee for leverage as he began a brutal pace toward release. Despite his harsh embrace, it was not long before her hips met his, seeking salvation from his unrelenting torrent.

Her muscles strained from being split, but the sharp ache was diminished by the relief of being so completely stuffed. Her pride wailed in horror at being proven the whore, but Elowyn cared little. Pleasure scalded and overwhelmed her like a bubbling hot spring.

Henry was everywhere.

Grasping, biting, prodding, and shoving.

He pulled sounds from her throat she had never heard before... but she was no better. Willing, she spread her thighs wider for him, welcoming his passionate tempest as he soundly cast her to the waves of ecstasy.

She cried out fervently as she drowned, and her body clung to him as if it were a buoy. Her walls became a vice, now trapping him to her as she fell victim to her carnal desires, “Captain!”

Henry watched her erupt through half-hooded eyes, captivated by the euphoria that descended upon her. He groaned as her walls clenched even tighter around him, demanding his seed.

He thrust once.

Twice.

Thrice more before he gave in to her delicious demand and came with a roar, filling her to brim as he enjoyed the way his cock spasmed in time with her tremors. Lazily, he pressed a kiss to her temple as she quivered against him.

Elowyn peered up at him with wide eyes, shame seeping into her mien as the weight of her actions crashed down onto her. She tried to cover herself, but Henry refused to let her move. He trapped her wrists above her head as he trapped her stare with his, “You have a choice now, lass. Be a good girl and warm this bed or walk out of this cabin and warm my crew’s. Either way, you’ll be a whore, but whose... well that remains up to you.”

Tears welled as he pulled out of her with a wet plop. Only then could she see the image she painted. Ruined and laid bare before the man who had stolen her as he fixed his trousers and shirt. She hated how little she had resisted him, how much she still wanted him. She had no recourse. He had extracted his pound of flesh as she drowned in her desires.

She would be his whore.

It was then she knew that Captain Henry Cavill wasn’t merely a pirate, he was the devil too.

#Pirate!Henry #AuHenry #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x ofc #fanfic #fanfiction #dark theme #Drowned Desires

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hizashis-lil-bunbun · 3 years ago

Text

No Rest for the Wicked- HardDom!Dabi X Fem! Brat Reader

Prompt: Dabi just wants to take a nap but everything goes wrong

I asked a friend in one of my discord groups for a random writing prompt when I was up late. Something about this one activated my inner ✨brat✨

Enjoy!

Word Count: 3.3k

Kinks/Warnings: brat taming, degradation, pain play, spanking, belting, mild dacryphilia, bondage, edging and denial, hints of dubcon

Banner made by the always lovely @ladyshinigami!

••••••••••••••

Exhausted.

That was the best way to sum up Dabi’s mood as he trudged through the bar fronting the League’s headquarters. Shigaraki had sent him out on a mission with orders to “stake out and take out” a small band of up-and-coming heroes. It had been easy enough to find them (newbies can never resist being flashy), but making sure they were all disposed of was another matter. A matter only made more complicated by a few rogue civilians that happened to spot him. It had taken him two full days to track everyone down, leaving him covered in blood, soot, and burns. In short, Dabi needed a break.

“Well, well, well.” Came the nasally voice of their fearless leader, “The prodigal son returns! Took you long enough, Dabi. Hope that means you didn’t fuck up the mission.”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist.” Dabi snaps back, too tired and sore to care about his tone. Not that he’d be any kinder to Shigaraki if he wasn’t. “I did what you asked and left no witnesses. Now piss off before I turn you into a smoldering pile.”

Shigaraki didn’t rise to Dabi’s bait, opting to simply flip him the bird before going back to whatever game console he was currently obsessed with. Dabi returns the gesture in kind, glowering as he disappears behind the bar and into the League’s living quarters. Their warehouse provides more than enough space for everyone to have their own room, and the boss even allowed them to decorate and furnish them as they pleased. Wasn’t that generous? Dabi plods down the hallway to his assigned room and kicks open the door only to find it was occupied. By you.

“Dabi?” You question for a moment before your eyes light up with excitement. “Dabi! You’re back!”

As a fellow Stain devotee, you’d sought out the LOV and been initiated as a member a mere six months ago. And two months later, you’d been initiated into Dabi’s bed. You wouldn’t exactly call yourselves “lovers.” Love was few and far between in a hornet’s nest of villains. But you’d certainly become something more than the occasional lay.

He grunts as he stalks into the room, shedding his coat and boots as he went. Dabi was never big on grand displays of affection. And in his current state, that small show of acknowledgment may as well have been equivalent to a bear hug.

“I missed you.” You chirp back, undeterred by his gruff response. “How was the mission?”

“Long and shitty.” Came his terse reply as he strips off the rest of his clothes and grabs a towel from a nearby wall hook. “I need a fucking shower.”

He wraps the towel around his waist before he sets about searching for body wash and a first aid kit. Greedy eyes roam the plane of his toned torso, eager to touch the scarred and stapled flesh you’d spent many a night mapping out. Before joining the League, you’d never had an opinion one way or the other on touch or physical intimacy. You didn’t dislike it by any means; it was just something people did, fuck buddies or otherwise. But now that you’d shared a bed with Dabi, your perspective had changed. His rough touch was your drug of choice, intoxicating in all the best ways. And with him being gone for almost 72 hours? It was safe to say you were jonesing for a hit.

“Oooh, sounds like fun.” You purr, sprawling out on the mattress in a catlike stretch. “Want me to join you? I think we could use a little… quality time together.”

He snorts derisively at that, straightening up once he’d found his supplies and fixing you with a deep scowl. So pretty even when he’s pissed. You bat your eyelashes in return.

“Don’t get cute, dollface. Once I get cleaned up I’m passing out for the next century.”

Before you can shoot off another coquettish remark, he turns on his heel and marches out the door in the direction of the communal showers. You huff and clamber out of bed to follow him, determined that he wouldn’t get away so easily.

“C’mon Dabi!” You whine, trotting along behind him as he stalks down the hallway. “I haven’t seen you in days! Are you really just gonna give me the cold shoulder?”

“Yup.” He snaps back, shooting you a harsh glare over said shoulder before barging through the bathroom door. From the other side you can hear his bark of “Move it, psycho!” followed by an indignant squeak from whom you can only assume to be Toga. You huff and stamp your foot like a petulant child, turning on your heel to flounce off in the direction of the League’s bar front.

“Bastard.” You seethe under your breath, “Who does he think he is, ignoring me like that? It’s his fault I’m so pent up. If I tried ignoring him when he was all hot and bothered–!”

You pause for a moment as a lightbulb goes off in your head. A single impish thought flashes through your mind and it causes your lips to curl into a Cheshire grin. He wants to play games? You’ll give him games.

You continue your trek into the dimly-lit, woodpandeled speakeasy, a renewed vigor in your stride as you make a beeline for the bar top. Kurogiri is standing behind it as per usual, wiping out a pint glass like the faithful bartender he pretends to be. You sidle up to the bar and place both hands on the oaken surface, adopting a sweet, too-innocent lilt to your voice.

“Kuro-baby.” You purr, the cutesy pet name causing the misty specter to look up from his task. “Can I have a glass of water, please? With lots of ice, if you don’t mind.”

Wordlessly, Kurogiri sets down the glass and picks up a shorter one, using it to scoop up a generous portion of ice from the freezer below before filling it nearly to the brim from the tap. If he has any suspicion of you, he’s very good at hiding it. The same can’t be said for Shigaraki, sitting a few stools down from you and still tapping away at the buttons of his console.

“Fucking with Staples again?” He questions disinterestedly, followed by a hiss of annoyance when the game lets out a series of gunshots. He must have gotten himself killed again.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You shoot back airily, swiping the glass from Kurogiri’s outstretched hand and hopping off your own barstool.

“It’s your funeral!” He calls after you, waving you off with one hand. You snicker as you march back into the living quarters, one hand wrapped around the chilled glass and the other flattened over the top to ensure you won’t spill a drop along the way. Soon you find yourself back in front of the bathroom door and, suppressing the urge to giggle, you slowly push through it and into the steamy room beyond. In spite of the hideout’s outward appearance, the place is surprisingly clean and well-kempt (all thanks to den mother Kurogiri). Two sinks stand against the left-hand side of the wall, with two doors opposite them leading to the toilets. Next to the sinks are the showers: three open-faced, tile cubes barely covered by flimsy plastic curtains. Toga is standing in front of the nearest sink, wearing a skimpy pair of Hello Kitty pajamas and washing the blood and goop from her latest transformation out of her navy, pleated skirt. She looks up at you when you enter and you quickly put one finger to your lips, smirking as you point between the glass and the running shower beyond. Toga lets loose a sadistic giggle of her own before hastily shushing herself when you hear Dabi’s bark of “Pipe down out there!”

As you move past her, you can see her mouth the words, “You’re so dead, big sis.”

You can feel a jolt of adrenaline course through your veins as you sneak up to the edge of the tiled wall separating the shower from the rest of the bathroom, the glass in your hand shaking briefly. A small amount of water sloshes over the rim and spatters onto the floor, the sound barely overshadowed by the shower.

“Doll?”

His low, rumbling voice coming from the other side of the curtain sends another shiver down your spine.

“What are you up to out there?” He growls dangerously, as if he has a sixth sense when it comes to you and your shenanigans. For just a moment, the rational part of your brain takes over and makes you question your actions. Dabi’s already in a foul mood, and getting worse by the second by the sound of it. Maybe if you hold off and behave like a good girl–

Your body seems to move of its own accord. The next thing you know, the contents of the glass are sailing through the air, arching high over the plastic curtain rod and landing with a messy splat onto your unwitting victim on the other side.

“What the fu–!” Dabi’s curse is cut off by yours and Toga’s mad giggling as you sprint out of the bathroom and down the hallway. Passing by a very confused-looking Spinner, you dart inside Dabi’s room and slam the door, locking it for good measure. Seconds later, he’s pounding on it, using enough force that you’re convinced it might splinter and break off its hinges.

“Open this door right now and make this easier on yourself!” He roars, furiously jiggling the handle.

You let him pound away for a few more seconds, in part to allow yourself time to catch your breath but mostly to delay the unenviable punishment. With a deep, steadying breath, you plaster on a mildly amused expression, undo the lock, and pull open the door. Dabi is visibly seething, water dripping from his hair and cascading in rivulets down his toned chest onto the towel slung low on his hips. His brows are knitted together in rage, turquoise eyes flashing dangerously while one hand is still raised in a fist.

“Oh hey, babe. Done with the shower al–?”

His hands are around your throat before you can blink, your sassy remark devolving into a high-pitched squeak.

“You little bitch.” He spits at you, forcibly backing you further into the room as he advances. “Was that your idea of a joke?”

“N-no.” You gasp in response, voice slightly raspy from the pressure on your jugular. “I just thought–“

“Thought what exactly?” Dabi growls, kicking the door shut behind him with one foot before giving your shoulders a hard shove and pushing you onto the bed. You land with a slight bounce, the momentum giving you just enough time to prop yourself up on your elbows.

“Well?” He hisses, venom dripping from the word as he glares down at you.

“I was worried.” You start slowly, tone almost loving as you gaze up at him with big, doe eyes. “You seemed so tense when you got back. And don’t think I didn’t notice those new burns on your arms. So I thought, since the mission was so hard on you…”

Your face suddenly splits into a shit-eating grin.

“I thought you might need to cool down for a minute.”

Dabi blinks for a second, seemingly struck dumb by your remark. And then his hands are back on you in an instant, roughly flipping you over to lie chest-down with your legs hanging off the edge of the bed.

“Of all the stupid–“

Your shirt is ripped over your head from behind.

“Immature–“

There goes the bra, clasps and straps lost to a wildfire of blue flames as it falls away from your body in a charred heap.

“Bratty little schemes.”

Your leggings and panties are harshly yanked down, slipped off, and discarded into some unknown corner of the room. You feel cool air hit your legs and backside, moments before a harsh slap lands on your right cheek. With a yelp, you cast a wide-eyed glance over your shoulder at the menacing presence behind you; a pillar of rage and sadistic urges looming over your naked form.

“You wanted my attention that badly, dollface? Well I’m sorry to say you’ve got it now.”

Before you can react beyond a pained, needy whimper, Dabi hooks his right arm under your thighs to haul you up and onto the bed. He lays his full weight across your back and reaches around and underneath the farthest edge of the bed to produce a simple, black cuff, attached to the nylon spreader running along the underside of the mattress. Giving it a few cursory tugs, he grabs ahold of your right wrist and yanks it towards the corresponding corner, attaching the device with practiced speed and precision. You continue to writhe and pant below him, muttering a litany of curses and “no’s” as he does the same to the opposite side. You’re now bound by both wrists, unable to do more than thrash wildly on the mattress in a humiliating, spread eagle position.

“Seems like you need a reminder of who’s in charge around here.” He snarls in your ear, pushing himself off of you and marching over to his discarded pile of clothing. You can hear the soft rustle of fabric, followed by the telltale clink of metal on metal that makes your eyes go wide.

“Y-you wouldn’t dare…” You start breathlessly, just before the first blinding sting of leather greets your exposed skin, right at the juncture where the soft swell of your ass meets the tender flesh of your thighs.

“That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart.” Dabi says mockingly, his tone dripping with false pity and saccharine sweetness as he takes his place at the edge of the bed once more. “I don’t have any problems dealing with a mouthy… little… brat like you.”

His words are punctuated by three more vicious blows, this time striking the meatiest part of your ass and sending the pliant flesh jiggling. The metal rivets in his belt only add to the pain, biting into your rapidly heating flesh and causing tears to prick at the corners of your eyes. Shifting your hips in a futile attempt to get away from Dabi and his newfound torture device, you roll partly onto your side and look over at him with watery, pleading eyes.

“S-sir… Dabi, please!” You sputter out, voice already wavering as your resolve crumbles beneath the stinging sensation. But Dabi’s not in the mood for bargaining. Instead, he growls as he wraps an arm around your waist and shoves his left knee underneath your belly, hiking your ass further into the air.

“Hold still!” He barks at you, another crack of his belt sending a fresh wave of searing pain along your already raw skin. You scream in agony, unable to do more than wriggle and squirm against his hold.

“Start counting, brat.” He demands huskily, your only warning before the next punishing spank meets your burning flesh.

“One!” You gasp out, “I’m sorry! Please–!”

Another blow lands, somehow harder than all the others, revisiting the spot where ass and thigh meet and causing you to wail in pain.

“Too late for apologies, dollface. The only thing I wanna hear from that slutty little mouth is counting. Understand me?”

The arm looped around your waist tightens in warning, and you hiccup before sputtering out a shaky, “T-two.”

“That’s more like it.”

He continues spanking you at a steady pace, the only respite coming when he pauses to hear you choke out the next number. By ten strokes, you’re bawling. By fifteen, you’re practically brain dead, unable to quell the sobs that wrack through your body or think beyond the next count. He mercifully stops at twenty, dropping the belt and loosening his own grip on you. All you can focus on is the burning pain radiating out from your tanned backside, sobbing as you bury your face into the pillow below you for comfort. Dabi’s own breathing is heavy and ragged, and he takes a few deep, measured breaths to steady himself. After a few moments, that hand that once held his belt is carefully laid on the curve of your ass, and you gasp both at the gentle touch and the shock of prickly pain it brings. Judging by the way he strokes the heated flesh, you’re sure the silver eyelets have left a series of bruises behind.

“S-s-sir.” You blubber, “I’m... I…”

“Shhhh, quiet down.” He says softly, voice uncharacteristically tender as he runs his hand along the width of your heated cheeks. “It’s over now. You did so well.”

The unexpected praise makes you whimper beneath his affections, devolving into a quiet moan as his hand travels even lower, fingers coming to rest at the entrance to your heated core. He begins to gently massage at your folds, middle finger slipping inside to find you impossibly wet and clenching around the digit.

“You filthy little thing…” He breathes out on a chuckle, “Are you really that turned on by me beating the hell out of your cute little ass?”

His finger delves deeper, pussy eagerly sucking him in as you keen below him. His free hand begins to lightly scratch up and down your back, goosebumps rising in the wake of each careful caress. Without thinking, you shift further onto your knees, fighting through the pain to push against his hand.

“Please, Sir.” You moan wantonly, “More. Please.”

With another dark chuckle, Dabi slips a second finger inside of you and begins to languidly pump them in and out. Pain and pleasure meld together in a sinful symphony, pants and whimpers coming from you as you rock your abused body against his own scarred flesh. He adjusts the angle and crooks his fingers downwards, curling them just shy of that sensitive bundle of nerves you know would have you seeing stars. Your back arches as you hungrily push against him, dignity forgotten in the face of pure, carnal desire.

“Getting impatient, are we?” He growls teasingly, fingers suddenly slipping out from your sopping core and wrenching a high-pitched whine from the back of your throat. He moves off the bed entirely, ordering you to stay put as he walks over to the nearby dresser and opens up the top drawer. Like the cuffs would allow you to do anything otherwise.

“Ah, here we go.” He says after a few seconds of rummaging, striding back over to the bed and taking up residence behind you. You feel the mattress dip under his weight seconds before his hands find your hips, roughly hauling them upwards and forcing your face further into the pillows. You shriek as he grabs ahold of your left cheek and squeezes harshly, pain shooting up your spine like a bolt of summer lightning. Something hard and cool prods at your quivering entrance, briefly brushing against your clit before being plunged inside of you. The sudden stretch feels at once too much and deeply satiating, sending burning, pleasurable heat licking across your oversensitized nerves. Once the toy is sunk to the hilt, Dabi gives a short grunt of satisfaction before sliding off the bed and circling around to lean over your quivering form. You turn your head to face him and he smirks at the sight of your fucked out expression: eyes red and puffy, cheeks streaked with half-dried tears, lips swollen from the bluntness of your own teeth.

“Aren’t you a sight?” He hums lowly, brushing away an errant strand of hair to plant a condescending kiss to your temple. “Such a needy little slut for me.”

With another dark chuckle, Dabi pats your cheek, straightens up, and turns towards the door.

“Wait!” You squeak out, squirming against your restraints as you watch his retreating back. “You’re just gonna leave me like this?”

“That’s the plan, dollface.” He shoots back, casting you a wicked grin over his left shoulder as he pulls the door open. “At least until I finish my shower.”

#bnha #bnha x reader #dabi x reader #Dabi #mha smut #mha x reader #tw: noncon #tw: pain play

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eureka-its-zico · 3 years ago

Text

Half Bitten Pt.5

Prologue Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Summary: You find yourself alone, without Jimin, and inside Namjoon’s home. Trapped with his followers and his need for dominance, you try and think of ways to escape. Your only options seem to either submit to him or learn to harness your dormant powers in hopes to give you your own bargaining tool: power. But is it possible to become the hunter when Namjoon, and now Jungkook, hunt for a taste of you at every turn.

Pairing- Jimin x Reader, Jungkook x Reader, Namjoon x Reader, Reader x BTS in general atp

Genre- Vampire!AU, Witch!AU, Heavy Smut 🔞 sub/dom mentions,

Words: 13k

Warnings: this chapter contains sexual content and small mentions of violence.

A/N: Okay, so this has taken a long time. I had to sit and really think about what and how I wanted this story to take shape and (after a lot of anxiety and a lot of stop/starts) I finally figured it out. I hope you all enjoy this labor of love. I hope the storyline peaks your Interest and that as always, you very much enjoy. Much Love, Jenn.

shout out to @dearneverlander for being amazing, reading over this, and entertaining me about this and other fic ideas. You are the best.

Tag list: @giveonslove @pjmnoir

For what felt like a recurring theme, you found yourself in a room you’d never seen. Your legs resting on someone’s hips as his body eclipsed yours in a bed that definitely wasn’t yours. No matter how foreign it seemed, this man, whose lips were coaxing you to open up to him, felt like home. He buried your body against the sheets and his touch became something your body shamefully craved. Except this man wasn’t the same one who’d haunted you for the past months. This man who moved above you like sin, whose lips and tongue formed against yours as if he’d mapped out your entire body with his tongue, wasn’t Jimin.

You knew who he was by the strength of his hold. The curve of his muscles that bowed under your fingertips. His head pulled up and away from your lips to leave love bites across your collarbone like a set of crimson pearls. This man, who had taken you in the most intimate way with his lips latched on your throat, was Jungkook.

Your mind couldn’t make sense of what was taking place. How you’d ended up in a mess of sheets. Your bodies beaded in sweat with your skin decorated in snake bites under your breasts, and hidden inside the inner curve of your thighs. The only thing you were sure of was the way you dived into him and let him drown you with each new crashing wave of his hips.

In between each crushing new weight of an orgasm, Jungkook sunk his teeth into a new spot. Your shoulder. Neck. The bend of your arm. Bites were strung across your back like a string of erotic galaxies that he’d mapped out in his continued efforts to explore everything you were willing to offer.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been in this bed. How long you’d been exposed to his overwhelming presence as his hands and mouth continued to roam the contours of your skin. Even his bites seemed to only escalate each new orgasm. Your body seemed to buckle and start all over at just a graze of his teeth along your skin. So eager it was to be penetrated a second time, much more animalistic, that it felt like a drug how badly you seemed to crave it. And every time your body was met with what it so badly craved it was only able to voice breathless moans that were silenced with a crimson soaked tongue.

You knew, ultimately, Jungkook was trying to devour you. To own every last inch of your soul and bend your body until all he needed to do was look at you, and you’d turn into a puddle at his feet. The thought should’ve been enough to push him away, but a twisted part of you was too turned on at the exhilaration of being owned. At the thought of him coming at any moment and his mouth easily claiming you as his.

You were barely starting to come down from your latest orgasm. You felt spent and raw, but Jungkook’s hips were still moving between your thighs as his arm moved to wrap underneath your arched back. A hand on the small of your back helping to prop you up higher, closer to his mouth so his tongue could reach out and flick across your hardened nipple.

The accompanying sensation of his tongue with the continuous movement of his cock pushing back inside you, riding out your orgasm to bring you to another, made your back arch harder. Your walls clenching tighter against him as your fingers dug into his hair with a hushed prayer for him to not stop escaping you. Pleading for him to do what you knew was coming next. Those soft flicks of his tongue that circled your nipple were only the beginning, and Jungkook did not disappoint.

He’d waited until your second orgasm came. Your body grew more sensitive with each continued stroke and, suddenly, his teeth penetrated down into the soft flesh of your breast. This time Jungkook was too occupied to keep down the moan that tore free from your chest. It moved inside the room like a living thing and bounced on every wall until it reverberated all around you.

Your arms had moved to wrap around his shoulders to bring him closer so he could drink you down faster. Your hands still locked tight to his hair as he moved to echo your movements with his arms moved to wrap around your waist. A hand dropped down to push away the bundled sheets at your hips to lift your back off the bed up and bring you to straddle him.

Your hips were now keeping up the speed Jungkook had created as he relaxed down on the bed. The hand he’d used to to push back the sheets between you had now moved to your ass. Using it to move you to the rhythm he was trying to commit with his own hips. You grinded down hard on him taking every last inch of him inside you. You tightened yourself around him to stroke and tease him with every new rise and fall of your hips and loved the way his grip tightened on your ass.

Jungkook lifted bloody lips from your breast. His own moan tearing free from him as you worked your hips over his cock. You watched him as his eyes fluttered closed and, with that stern playfulness off of his face, you were able to see just how beautiful he was. His head tilted back just enough that the light of the room showcased a mole under his lip, another decorated the side of his neck, and a scar on his cheek. An indent you were sure came from a time long ago when he was much more alive.

The sound of his moan spurred you to ride him faster. A part of you craved to bring another moan from him as his eyes opened back up and struggled to focus back on you. Jungkook knew what you were trying to do and a smirk quickly raised his lips.

“The only one who's going to be making any kind of noise here, Pet, is you.”

His nickname for you didn’t seem to register as a strong hand on your neck forced your lips crashing down into his. You opened up for him instantly and felt yourself tasting the copper of your blood back on his tongue and underneath that, was the sweet taste of your juices from when his mouth had been between your thighs lapping up every last bit of your first orgasm.

A moan gasped against his mouth as you tore away. The feeling of him so deep inside you was beginning to make your orgasm begin to build; threatening to spill as his hands took control of your hips and had you take him impossibly deeper. His fingertips were bruising against your flesh but you didn’t care. You needed more. You wanted to wear each marking he gave you, could give you, like decorations to your new favorite holiday.

You were so close to coming again. So close to another mind blowing release when you saw him.

Jimin.

His body perfectly formed into the chair with a leg carefully thrown over the other. A forearm resting on the chair's arm as his hand strategically placed itself over his mouth. You were sure it was to hide a frown that had set on his pouty lips. His eyes watching helplessly at the show you continued to give him.

The betrayal at being caught; being seen in such a position made you tear your lips away from Jungkook’s kiss. Your body, however, wasn’t ready to unlatch itself from him. Not when you were so, so close.

“Jimin?”

You knew Jungkook must have heard you. Was he unaware of the man sitting in the corner chair? Or was Jungkook putting on a show of how he’d taken your body so easily from him?

In part, you received your answer. In a blur of speed Jungkook placed you back on the mattress. His fingers hooking under the knee of one leg to hoist it up towards your stomach and placed your calf on his shoulder. It was such a small movement, but it somehow intensified his next thrust.

A moan that was more a scream crawled its way from your throat and out into the room. Your eyes fluttering shut on Jimin’s figure as you focused on the way this new position made you tighten around Jungkook’s cock. The width of him as he stretched and filled you up to the point your body began to shake. The only way you knew how to release the pleasure Jungkook rolled through you with every pounding of his hips was by shouting his name and marking him as your nails dug into his hips.

You were so close. So close and when you opened your eyes, Jimin was no longer sitting in the chair. No. He was now kneeling beside the bed, his face inches from yours and watching as your hips eagerly pushed off the bed to meet Jungkook’s.

It would be hard to deny that watching Jimin’s eyes take in the swell of your breasts, moving down the plains of your stomach, and ending, eyes hungrily watching Jungkook enter you, isn’t what made you cum. Because it was. Underneath that sadness he showed. The anger at seeing someone else touch you, was a lust at watching you cum under another man that made you feel like you’d left your body.

You came screaming and clawing feverishly at Jungkook’s back and arms. Your legs cramping through the strain of staying propped up to keep the power of his thrusts from breaking as you waited for it to end.

What you were really waiting for was the feel of Jungkook’s teeth setting into the soft flesh lol somewhere. Your body vibrating with the need to feel that soft pinch and the wave of euphoria that came right after, but none came.

You craved it so badly, you were practically writhing in disappointment underneath him when it never came. A whine left you pleading and the devilish smile on Jungkook’s lips didn’t surprise you. It only infuriated you more that he’d treat this like a game.

“Do you want me to bite you, Pet? Do you want me to taste you?”

Jungkook pulled away from you and began to move himself down towards your feet. He made sure to keep his body from touching you. The motion leaving a small view of his naked body exposed to the room and that alone was enough to make you keen into the room. Your lower half bucked up towards his face as he passed, but he easily dodged the motion.

Your eyes looked wildly up for Jimin. He was still there and the betrayal was coming back, but his earlier sadness was now replaced by understanding.

“What the hell is going on?”

You’d like to say that you sounded like yourself. That you weren’t still focused on the man now moving between your legs, inching your legs up to bend at the knee, and were more focused on getting some answers. Or the fact that you wanted Jimin to kiss you right when you felt Jungkook kiss at the crease of your inner thigh.

“You’re dreaming.”

Jimin stated it so matter-of-fact it hit your body like a smack to the face. It gave you enough clarity to look at him, really look at him, and then to the room around him.

“This has been a dream the whole time?”

This time your voice did sound more like yourself. Jimin moved to sit on the edge of the bed beside you. His eyes looking at you with an expression you didn’t deserve as he gently caressed his hand down the edge of your face.

“I’m guessing somehow you must have gotten a taste of Jungkook’s blood. A considerable amount it would seem.”

A soft smirk tilted the corner of his mouth as he looked down at your body and at the other man in question. You couldn’t help yourself. Your own gaze moved down to glance at Jungkook and found him, smiling, and looking dead at Jimin. A challenge in his eyes as his fangs began to grow past his lips and, instantly, the insane aching to be his toy knocked the air of sanity right from your lungs.

You knew you should reply but the only thing you found yourself doing was bucking your hips helplessly towards him. Your head falling back onto the mattress in frustration as you tried to grasp at some form of clarity.

“Why does this keep happening?”

Your words came out a panting, heaving, mess with your eyes shut tight. As if that would ever be enough to get your body back to normal and not be this lust crazed thing.

“I’m sorry. I should have protected you better. I should have been more cautious when I approached you. It was foolish of me to think Namjoon didn’t have his own plans in motion.”

You listened closely to Jimin’s words. Your mind scrambled to hold on to each one like a drowning man searching for a life jacket. You opened your eyes and found him smiling sadly down at you. His fingers moved through your hair, and tucked a piece behind your ear. That pain, that sadness, he tried to keep at bay was consuming even his smile now. All you wanted was to kiss his worries away. You knew he meant it. That all Jimin ultimately wanted was to keep you safe, always.

The thought alone was enough to bring you back. Your hand moved out to touch him. To grab a hold of his hand and bring it to your lips just so you could give it a gentle kiss.

“Namjoon probably asked Jungkook to give you blood. But I am sure that Namjoon doesn’t know he’s doing this.”

At the mention of his name, a growl came from the man in question and it took everything you had left in you not to look back down at him. Your eyes were trained solely on Jimin, and were determined to stay that way.

“Namjoon wouldn’t let him do this?”

Jimin shook her head as he spoke, “Namjoon would have asked him to watch over you. Heal you if you need it, but this-“ Jimin looked around the bedroom for added emphasis before bringing a disapproving gaze back to you. “This is more for Jungkook than anyone else.”

“I couldn’t help myself. She tastes so good.”

Jungkook’s voice touched along your skin like velvet. It worked its way like an invisible hand along your body, until it felt like it tightened around your throat demanding for your attention. You wanted to give it to him. To see that pretty face still waiting, teasingly, between your thighs with fangs exposed. You only gave him the satisfaction of letting him see you shiver.

“I still don’t understand how this is possible. How you can just enter my mind and create dreams like this.”

“I told you, Y/N. Blood is the conduit to the soul. Once it’s shared, it cannot be unshared. It helps us to see your desires and it leaves them exposed to us.”

“Are you trying to tell me I wanted this?”

You should’ve been past feeling embarrassed, especially in your current state, but with Jimin’s statement you felt exactly like he’d stated: exposed. The embarrassment in your chest hot as you fight the urge to cover up.

“In some way; yes. A part of you wants Jungkook and, because of the shared blood, he now knows it. And he capitalized on it to create this moment.”

Your mouth was open, ready to fight back at the idea you’d want any of them, but Jungkook was quick to silence you. Proving you to be nothing but a liar.

“You both talk too much.”

His teeth sunk down into the soft flesh of your inner thigh, and your back arched up off the bed. A moan violently erupted from you as your hands curled into the sheets and threatened to rip them apart. You were barely aware of your body when Jimin’s lips formed around yours and, before you were able to fully register his lips, his tongue danced across your bottom lip and you were quick to give him entrance just before you were thrown from your dream.

Your body lurched forward off of the mattress. The sheets crumbled at your waist as the haze of the dream kept your vision cloudy. You were struggling hard for your vision to clear and, in your haste, you only seemed to make it worse. Your world was swimming in dizziness as objects seemed either too close to you or too far; lurching forward and back until they stopped in their original spots.

It wasn’t until you were able to fully calm yourself that you were aware of the bodies in the room. The first you noticed was the one you weren’t exactly able to see, but you could feel them. Your skin came alive with goosebumps as fear rolled through you. It took everything you had not to turn around; to keep your heart from bursting out of your chest. But you couldn’t bring yourself to turn around even if your life depended on it, because that second body, the one you knew was there, was right in front of you.

With his hips cocked against the large dresser and his arms resting behind him he was the picture perfect image of seduction. The devilish smile on his lips was a tell-tale sign as his gaze drank in your position in the bed that he knew what you were thinking. But how could he not? Even then, with him fully clothed, your mind was able to recall the bunch of muscles in his chest that combined into his stomach. The way your hands dipped inside the plains of his back as his hips worked himself deeper inside you making you come undone beneath him. No. You knew his body the way that he no doubt knew yours.

“Jungkook?”

His name fell from your lips in a whisper. One that was either a curse or excitement or possibly both. You weren’t entirely sure. What you were sure of was the itch in your palms to rub them against your eyes. To see if he was still there, like a bad dream caught on a loop. Thinking of him like that felt wrong, somehow and that’s when you knew you were in trouble.

You watched as he ran a thumb along his bottom lip. The knowing in his eyes as they moved across your body like a touch sent you shivering in response against the covers. If your mind and body were aware of the dream then so was he. The dream that felt real. A touch your body now longed to feel with him this close. To be used up and your skin decorated with his mouth and teeth like a scandalous map of where he’d conquered.

Your eyes were so heavily trained on him; sinfully watching every drawn out movement he made that you could hardly pay attention to anything else. How you could’ve missed the other body next the bed was something you couldn’t fathom. Of course you would’ve known that the vampire V, was right beside you. But you were so shamelessly engrossed in the show Jungkook happily provided, that you weren’t aware of him until his fingers were stroking through your hair.

Your body gave a violent jolt as it turned to face him. An odd child-like mischief swept across his face like a wildfire. Setting off sparks in his eyes that roared to life as his gaze hungrily drank you in and, without speaking, knew you were in trouble.

His hand reached out to touch you again, and you found yourself struggling against the bundled sheets at your waist to back away. You cursed under your breath. The harder you seemed to struggle the more your legs became hopelessly tangled further in the sheets.

V was wasting no time as he moved to join you on the large bed. The muscles in his arms and back strained against the thin silk fabric of his shirt. His body movements gracefully calculated with each inch he covered as he made his way towards you. His hands moved seamlessly over the sheets without getting caught up in them. Unlike you, who only seemed to tangle yourself further the more you struggled against them. No, the way he moved and how he looked at you made it painfully obvious that he was the predator here. And you? You were nothing more than prey.

You didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to tell that your heart was clamoring to escape your chest. The terror you felt was very much real. Not a figment of your imagination or a feeling in your subconscious left over from a dream. The more you seemed to struggle against the knowledge that if V got a hold of you, you’d be his breakfast, lunch, and dinner, the more your panic made your movements frantic. And in their frenzy it made you increasingly clumsy.

You were almost to the edge of the bed. The anxiety that had begun to blossom left a sickening thought in your mind that you weren’t going to make it. When you quickly glanced behind you it all but dissipated. You’d somehow made it. You were just a few inches to freedom. You were going to make this! And suddenly, V’s hand appeared like magic on your arm. It snuffed out what hope you’d felt. His fingers tightened against the skin of your forearm and, without giving you a second to recover, began to pull you towards him.

The scream that’d been building in your chest finally tore free when he tugged you towards him. Your hand clamored uselessly at his fingers in a weak attempt to make them release his hold, and when that wasn’t working, you swung your feet around. You were ready to strike; to kick out at him in panic induced spurts when V suddenly let you go. A more level headed you would’ve considered why he’d done it. But you weren’t levelheaded. You weren’t fucking calm. You were stuck in flight mode, instead of fighting, and with your brain stuck on autopilot you could only consider one thing: running.

Those eyes that swore they would tear you apart were no longer looking at you, but were focused on someone behind you. Instead of being careful and glancing to see what it was - who it was - you scrambled back and ended up colliding into someone else’s chest.

You didn’t need to look to know who it was. You’d experienced this chest for what felt like an eternity in your dreams. Your tongue traced sinful outlines across his chest like a paintbrush and committed every single stroke to memory. No, you didn’t need to look to know Jungkook was at the end of this bed. And yet…

Your head tilted back until the top of it rested comfortably in his stomach. Your eyes gazed up to find he was already looking at you. That infamous smirk dancing on his lips as his eyes took you in. You couldn’t help but wonder what he saw. Did you look frightened? Or did he see blown out pupils exposing your desire for him. Did your body give you away when your next breath came out ragged with need or was it like that from fear? Were your eyes already swimming with desire for him to touch you, for real this time?

He brought a hand to the side of your neck and it took what little willpower you had left to keep from nuzzling your cheek into him. If Jungkook knew this he wouldn't have shown it. Instead, he continued to draw his index finger across your jawline until it came up to connect with your lips. The soft smile that he’d worn now turned into something dangerous. His eyes bleeding the deep crimson that signified his teeth weren’t far behind and there, exactly when that knowledge hit you, is when your lust burst into overdrive.

You were shot back to hazy memories of your bodies intertwined in sheets just like the ones on this bed. His mouth, teeth, all over your body. His hands positioned on your hips to keep you trapped. Just so he could keep you close and feel every new thrust as he tore fresh pleasure from your lips.

The flashback of your dream only seemed to escalate your hunger for him. The images played out fresh in your mind until you knew if either of them placed a hand between your thighs, it would come away soaked and slick with your desire. The overwhelming need for him to touch you felt like a current of fire along your skin. It screamed and ached for him to come and soothe you.

You felt V’s hands back on your body. Their roughness gone now replaced to tease up your calves until his fingers were edging wickedly up your thighs. Past the fabric of your skirt and closer to your core. Each touch left a trial of goosebumps along your skin that were only spreading with each touch between him and Jungkook. You dared for a moment to take your eyes off of Jungkook. Just enough to be able to see that V’s own eyes were now matching the man above you. A wicked smirk showcasing pointed canines that he used to nip at the top of your knee.

“Oh, Jungkook, she must really like you.”

“Fuck you,” you snapped.

You wanted to sound defiant. You wanted your voice to shake the room with it. Instead, it sounded weak and wanton and only caused V to flash his fangs and a chuckle to ripple through Jungkook.

“If that’s what you would prefer, Witch. We would be more than happy to oblige.”

V’s eyes swam with heat as his voice teased along your skin. The sane part of you, or what was left of it, was screaming at you to remove yourself from the bed. That letting your legs inch wider for V to trail his hands closer to your core was wrong. That you shouldn’t be Focusing on Jungkook’s hands that were trailing inside your shirt until it cupped a breast. And you most definitely should not be moaning in approval as his other free hand laced itself inside your hair and pulled back, hard, for you to look up at him. But your body was full of sensations - full of a deep seeded need - and only Jungkook promised to deliver.

Jungkook’s hand began to massage your breast as simultaneously the hand in your hair pulled tighter. The motion exposing your neck fully to the room. Your scalp was flaring to life in pain, but Jungkook’s deft fingers teased across your nipple causing your pain and pleasure to blur. Your body responded in earnest. Your hips shamelessly began to gyrate into the sheets, into V’s wandering hands, as Jungkook’s pulled tighter. You knew he was trying to break a moan from your lips and you refused to give him the satisfaction. But your eyes were still helplessly glued to him. Eagerly scanning his face for when he would expose his canines and when he finally did, lips torn back in all their wickedness, the gasp he’d been waiting for finally escaped free.

Your arousal was instant and shameless. Your back already arching to give him a better view of any area he wanted while your hips moved against V’s touch. Another moan was building - hot and molten - on your lips. Just as you opened up to release it, Jungkook bent down to crash his mouth down on yours.

The kiss silenced you until you felt V’s fingers at the tops of your thighs. His earlier teasing completely gone as they edged inside your panties, making your body shiver against Jungkook and a moan sound deep against his lips.

“Jungkook. She’s soaked.”

V groaned the words into the room. His own desire makes you shiver as his lips, his teeth, kissed hungrily on the inside of your thigh. Your body gave a jolt at the contact. Another moan crushing down on you as your tongue moved to stroke against Jungkook’s.

In the middle of the kiss, your tongue accidentally nicked a canine. The pain was instantaneous and sharp with the taste of blood quickly swimming between you and the softness that Jungkook had shown when his lips had originally taken yours was gone. In a blur of movement, his hand in your hair pulled back brutally hard, tearing a scream from your throat. Jungkook responded with a growl vibrating along your lips, as he started to try and eat you from the mouth down. Scream and all.

You were so enraptured in the moment you were willing to give in. To let them both have you because, honestly, what was the worst that could happen? The answer: a lot. The struggle to come back to yourself and to not be consumed by them was like trying to swim out of quicksand. It felt impossible. It was impossible. Until your mind flashed with the image of Jimin.

The way he sat in the corner chair of the room. The way he’d watched Jungkook, and you, move in a tangle of sheets. How he’d watched you allow Jungkook to mark you over and over in every intimate spot he could taste. To own your body and almost your mind. There had been hunger in his eyes as he watched, but there was no denying the sadness that lurked below the surface. That image of Jimin sitting so stoically in the chair, fingers on his lips, and chin resting in his palm was what you needed.

Immediately, you lurched forward. Your body flying sideways off the bed and rolling until you fell, not so gracefully, onto the floor below. There was no doubt in your mind that the two vampires in the room had let you. You knew that if they wanted to keep you there, there you’d have stayed. Held hostage by their embrace and hunger.

You were clamoring off of the floor and facing them. Your hands moved around you to try and make sure your skirt was back in place and you looked as modest as you could. It was somewhere in your hurried attempt to make sure your clothes were intact that you realized the cut on your leg that Namjoon had given you from the window was gone. The area was perfectly healed with not a mark to show the trauma that had broken the skin hours before.

“I was ordered to give you blood by Namjoon.” Jungkook’s voice ripped your attention away from examining your leg. Commanding all of your focus to him. “You’d lost quite a bit of blood and he was…worried.”

“And did he ask you to -'' you couldn’t bring yourself to speak out loud what had gone on in your head.

Jungkook didn’t share the same sentiment. On the contrary, that wickedness spread across his face showcasing the ends of his fangs. His arm was now wrapped around one of the posts on the four post bed. His body swung around the corner of the bed in a way that oddly mimicked a child.

“To fuck you, taste you, and leave you begging for me to continue? Oh no, he didn’t ask me to do any of that. That was all my choice, Pet.”

Your cheeks flush from his words and you struggled not to turn away from him. But wasn’t it all supposed to just be a dream? It couldn’t be real. Could it? Out of your peripheral’s you noticed V was moving himself off the bed. His body exiting the bed as seductively as he’d entered it. His own teasing smile drowned out the hunger that was still spread across the heat in his eyes.

“And here I thought witches only rode broomsticks.”

“They ride more than that,” Jungkook quipped.

The two of them equally seemed to enjoy your growing embarrassment, and you hated the fact your body was white hot with it. They were already honing in on your position. One coming from your left and the other the right. That reckless part of you was curious what would happen if they got to you, but another part reminded you this wasn’t a game. You wouldn’t respawn and the price of losing was your life or freedom.

So you found your feet edging you closer and closer to the corner of the room. You were fully aware that it was a dead end and knew that if Jungkook and V wanted to, they would’ve already taken you. The thrill of the hunt was what they were after. You, unfortunately, just happened to be the prey.

They were only a few feet from you when the door to the room suddenly opened and Alice stepped in. Or at least it looked like Alice. This woman didn’t resemble the girl you shared classes or an apartment with. She looked ethereal. Her corn yellow hair in soft waves with a braid for a crown and her dress delicately embroidered in a design you saw more in the 1920’s. For all the memories of friendship you held, the beauty she showed, the only thing your heart felt looking at her was contempt.

Jungkook and V turned to see who entered and both seemed unimpressed with their new visitor. Alice shared in their open distaste for one another. She finished coming through the doorway and walked to the bed placing what you assumed were clothes for you to change into.

“What exactly do you think the two of you are doing?” Alice’s voice was scolding. Her distaste only seemed to rise as she took in a scent of the air. “Someone has been Dream Touched in here. Recently. Jungkook, I’m pretty sure Namjoon told you watch over her not fuck her.”

There it was again. It was just a dream! Why did they talk like it actually happened? The blush that was beginning to leave your cheeks came flaring back. It took everything in you not to look down at the floor in shame.

“What can I say? I got bored waiting for her to wake up.”

“If Namjoon finds out you touched her-“

“Who is going to tell him, hmm?” In a blur of speed Jungkook had Alice pressed up against the wall. His hand wrapped around her neck as her feet dangled at his legs. “Are you going to tell him? You think being a snitch is going to put you back in his good graces? In his bed? He’s already discarded you like the trash you are. So don’t forget how easily you could be replaced.”

If looks could kill the two of them would’ve exploded. The hatred that came off the pair felt like it could suffocate with every inch of air being sucked from the room. Your blood was now coursing with adrenaline as you watched their exchange. If you needed any reminding that they could kill you without you even blinking, this was all you needed.

Alice lifted up a weak hand and you noticed the blue flame inside her palm, her lips moving wordlessly, and pure rage in her eyes. She went to swing her hand down at him and Jungkook easily caught it with his remaining free hand. Easily pinning her wrist against the wall next to her head and smoke now coming rising where the flame once was.

V walked over casually, his hands deep in his pockets before he dug a hand out. He grabbed Jungkook by his shoulder and gently tugged as if to pull him away.

“Come on, Jungkook. She’ll have her day, but it's not now. We don’t need any more trouble.”

You watched Jungkook reluctantly let her go. The way he stepped away from her in disgust. His hands wiping down his clothes as if just being around her was enough to stain them entirely. He didn’t spare a passing look her way as he moved with V to exit the room. V’s exit came without giving a passing look, but Jungkook, somehow you knew, before he turned and waved at you, that he couldn’t leave without saying goodbye. The hatred in his eyes quickly dissolved back to his earlier hunger as he told you a promise: “See you later, Pet,” and closed the door behind him.

You were now left alone in the room with your ex-best friend who was still trying to regain her composure in a heap on the floor. You felt bad. You couldn’t deny that. The ethereal beauty she’d come in with - a princess out of a fairytale - had completely dissolved. Now, she looked angry with a smidgen of terror. Her tear stained cheeks were rubbed red from her hands as she slowly started to stand.

At first, she wasn’t acknowledging you at all. When she moved to stand up, however, and smoothed out the front of her dress she gave you her full attention. That hatred Alice shared, that contempt, that’d come alive in her eyes at the sight of Jungkook and V in the room, was now placed heavily on you.

“What are you looking at,” she spat. “You need to hurry up and get dressed. Namjoon has been waiting long enough for you to wake up.”

You glanced at the pile of clothes that had been left on the bed and back at Alice. None of her attention was on you. She was too busy running her hands furiously down the front of her dress. You weren’t sure if it was embarrassment that kept her head turned away from you or if she just wanted to pretend like you weren’t there. If it was the latter, you were more than happy to do the same.

You moved to look at what she’d brought for you to change into, and your nose crinkled up in disgust. It wasn’t as fancy as what Alice was wearing, but it was a dress, and nothing you wanted any part in. How the hell were you supposed to try to escape in something like this? The fabric of the dress was soft to the touch and you knew once you put it on it would feel good against your skin. The way expensive and fancy things usually did. It appeared floor length, its color a deep garnet, and the complete opposite of the pure white of Alice’s.

It felt comical that Alice deemed herself worthy to be the one to wear white.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” you chided.

Your hands grabbed at the dress's top and lifted it up. It was pretty. Very pretty, but a dress? Really? Alice stopped her pacing and turned her attention back to you. The annoyance creased her brows so harshly she resembled a basset hound.

“Just put the damn thing on, Y/N. Namjoon wants you to wear it so - end of discussion.”

“And does everyone always do what Namjoon wants them to do?”

Her eyes narrowed on you and you could’ve sworn it felt like insects were crawling on your skin. It took every last bit of self-control you had not to start tapping wildly at your skin.

“Let me help you understand something sooner rather than later, Y/N.You are in the King’s sanctuary. Whatever Namjoon wants, he gets and right now you happen to be a very high priority on his list.”

“If I could be unprioritized on his list that would be great,” you quipped.

Your humor seemed to make Alice’s irritation rise as she walked slowly towards the bed. Her eyes roamed over the sheets you’d just struggled out of seconds before she’d walked in. A part of you as secretly glad she hadn’t walked in during that particular time.

“Namjoon is - will be - your King. He wants to bring the coven, the oldest there is, back together. For centuries, our coven lived among the vampires. A deal struck between our Headmistress and King of the vampires. A deal that offered limitless power for the coven. It remained this way until the day your great-great grandmother and Jimin tried to change it.”

“My great-great grandmother and Jimin?”

Alice gave a quick nod as her arm wrapped around the post of the bed and leaned into it. Her eyes remained roaming the bed instead of giving you any of her attention as she spoke. You were okay with it. Your own attention fastened to every word. Each one painting a picture of information that you were eager to hear. Maybe in all of this nonsense you could find something that did make sense and use it to save yourself.

“If you don’t do as he says, if you don’t try to learn what I have to teach you, Namjoon won’t let you go, Y/N. He’ll kill you.”

She looked at you then and a large part of you wished Alice had kept her eyes on the bed. She wasn’t trying to spook you or send you screaming for the hills. They’d all done enough before now to do that already. Alice was making sure that you understood. You either submit or you died. In this reality, where you currently lived, and Namjoon reigned supreme, you didn’t have a second or third option.

In all of this, it wasn’t hard to notice the admiration that dripped in her voice at the mention of his name. The way her body sighed at the thought of him. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that she was in love with Namjoon. Hopelessly, in fact. The thought of you being anywhere near him is what she probably hated and even more knowing that ever since he’d found you, he’d discarded her just like Jungkook mentioned. It no doubt stung. It no doubt made her hate you, but Alice would never tell you, but what she did tell you was true. Whatever Namjoon couldn’t own he would destroy and, unfortunately for you, you were currently on the receiving end of being his latest thing to own.

You weren’t sure what to say. If being in denial was even worth trying to mask the cold lump of dread that was forming in your chest. What were you supposed to do now? You couldn’t wait around for Jimin to save you this time, but how were you supposed to begin to help yourself? While you waited for the universe to bring a solid plan to you, you began to undress.

You didn’t mind getting rid of the clothes from the day before. It had given you a false sense of security. As if leaving them haphazardly on the floor around you was enough to save you from your current reality. It wasn’t until you were stepping into the dress Alice brought that you were reminded that this was all too real.

You struggled to close the back of the gown and hated that with every passing second you knew you were going to have to ask her for help. Clearing your throat, you glanced in her direction. You found Alice sitting on the bed. Her hands draped loosely in her lap with her gaze in a land - somewhere far far away. Her thoughts took her somewhere that wasn’t you or this room. The sound of your voice finally uprooting her gaze to land on you.

“Could you - do you - do you think you could help me with this?”

You half expected her to break out into a lopsided grin. To start teasing you about your lack of coordination or make one of the worst jokes you’d ever heard as she moved towards you. Alice, the Alice you remembered, loved dad jokes. They were her terribly timed thing. But the Alice you knew was gone, and replaced with one you didn’t want to know. Was this really who she was, and not who she pretended to be?

She didn’t answer you right away. Well, she didn’t really answer you at all. The only way you knew that she’d agreed was when she calmly moved towards you. Her expression remained blank, but her eyes were searching for something and acted as if you held the map to every explanation she needed.

You brushed your hair to the side so she could get a clear view of the last couple hitches that need to be fastened. You turned your back to her and waited to feel her hands closing what was left. While the dress was floor length and beautiful, it sure was leaving a large part of your chest exposed. A tsk of displeasure escaped your lips.

“What was the price the coven paid?”

You weren’t sure why you felt brave enough to ask Alice so close. If you thought it would be enough to get her to answer you at all. Your short burst question faded to the background of her continued silence.

“The price we paid?”

When her words cut through it practically had you jumping on the spot. Your tongue quickly darted between your lips to wet them before you replied, “For the power upgrade. Everything comes at a cost when it comes to magic, no?”

You swore it felt like she was smiling behind you. Or maybe you just needed to imagine she was smiling with softness like your imaginary friend used to.

“Namjoon offered us blood. His blood, and the blood of his people. In exchange, the coven bowed under his rule with the promise of serving him for all eternity.”

“That seems like a mighty steep price to pay.”

“And one we will continue to pay until the debt is paid in full. Your great-great-great grandmother believed she could fight this pact. She believed she was above the coven, and it’s order.”

“It sounds to me like she was the only one with her head on straight” you mentioned.

With the last clasp finished on the dress you took a step away from Alice. Your feet guided you in a wide circle until you stood to face her, shoulders squared, and eyes narrowed in challenge.

“She fled believing she could save her future generations from their duty to our king, but there is no hiding from your destiny. Elyssa should’ve remembered that.”

You hadn’t heard her name in years. Your own mother hardly ever spoke of your grandmother or your great grandmother. Avoided them at all costs like a plague that could cause an infection from just the slightest mention. You grew up normal enough. You’d had your small family. Never any grandparents or aunts or uncles. You were too young to question it, but your parents made you feel like you weren’t missing anything. There were family vacations and Saturday’s mapped out with storybook adventures in the woods. You never imagined you were lacking anything until the day your father mysteriously disappeared after going to work one day. After he left, mom was never the same.

You never cared to dwell on sad facts. Maybe he’d just run away. Maybe his heart had found a family capable of building the life he’d wanted instead of the quiet one your mother desired in her handmade cottage in the woods. Now, staring back at Alice, you couldn’t help but wonder about something much darker.

“Let me give you some friendly advice.” You weren’t sure why her voice caused you to jump. “When a vampire shares his blood with you and you share yours with him, they form a connection with the soul of that person. It’s what makes us more vulnerable to being Dream Touched. The sex is phenomenal, but the bite is the real kicker. It’s easy for them to turn you into a junkie for it.”

Your head was still spinning out memories of a childhood you’d mostly tried to keep hidden. Her words echoed in the hollow chamber in your mind where you were only able to catch a few of them. Confusion edged your brow closer together as you tried shaking out bad memories to focus on the current one being made.

“Why are you telling me all this? I’ve never had sex with any of them.”

Looking at her you were able to see she wasn’t telling you this out of the kindness of her heart. The emptiness of her face had been replaced by what you could only assume was hatred.

“Because when you’re Dream Touched it forms an unmistakable connection with the vampire who gave it to you. It’s why you most likely still feel Jimin, even if it's dull. And what you think is a ‘dream’ is very much real. Dream Touched encounters are the real thing. The feelings. The tastes. The bites. You reek of Jungkook. Namjoon will know and it will be my ass for picking Jungkook to be the one to watch you. Now come on, we need to go. He’s waiting.”

You were still trying to process what she was telling you, but Alice wasn’t interested in giving you time to digest her words. All the time she had in coming to the room had apparently evaporated. The only thing left was the sense of urgency her pace created. Her long legs were already at the door and swinging it open.

While you weren’t a hundred percent sure about following her anywhere, an open door piqued your interest. Wherever they were holding you it was obviously a home of some kind and every home and two things: doors and windows. The thought of escaping before this shit show went from bad to astronomically worse sent your heart racing. A melding of fear and excitement swirled in your chest that maybe, just maybe, you could get out of this and save yourself.

All the best laid plans were made on the fly, anyway.

With a breath of indecision heavy in your chest you took your first step towards the door. What you found waiting for you on the other side wasn’t what you’d envisioned. You’d imagined that wherever Namjoon kept you it’d be somewhere desolate. A run-down mansion. Maybe an abandoned factory to add up the spook factor. If the bedroom you’d exited was any indication, Namjoon’s home was far from run-down or factory-esque.

The hallway you found yourself in carried with the same deep wood that had been in the bedroom. The wood was polished white and went the entirety of the hallway. The intricate inlays of gold designs on the wood and crown molding only seemed to add to the opulence of the house. You were sure if a home designer from HGTV found their way in here, they’d probably explode with their love for everything they saw. You did notice the windows the heavy curtains covered and, from the view you were getting, your brain deduced trying to escape through one of them this high would be a bad idea.

Without waiting for you further, Alice began to make her way down the hallway. She didn’t seem worried that you would try to run or that you wouldn’t follow. Alice appeared confident that you would just follow behind her without giving her any problems. Sure, the windows were a definite no-go, but the doors?? There seemed to be plenty of them that you could see. What made her so certain you wouldn’t try and escape through any? It didn’t matter if you didn’t know where they would lead. Anywhere would be better than where Alice was no doubt leading you. So why didn’t you run?

Realistically, you didn’t know what was more terrifying. The unknown of what could possibly be behind those doors or Namjoon waiting for you somewhere in the house.

Alice made a right at the end of the hall and ended your inner monologue of indecision. She was no longer sending backwards glances to make sure you were there. Her confidence at your submission was a heavy annoyance in your chest and the questions that still weighed there demanded that you return the favor.

“If you have more you want to ask, Y/N, just ask it. I know you want to.”

You wanted to be childish and tell her you didn’t want to ask her shit. In the end, the lie didn’t seem worth the trouble and getting a little more information wouldn’t seem to hurt.

“Alright. Where are we?”

“Really?” she snorted. “Out of everything you could ask, that's what you came up with?”

“You said I could ask anything. It’s reasonable to ask where your kidnappers have taken you. If I’m still in Seoul or if you’ve moved me miles from the city to somewhere else.”

The silence after your words departed your lips crushed in around you. As if every ounce of air had been taken from your lungs. Were you holding your breath without realizing it? You continued to walk behind Alice not knowing when she would answer or even if she would. She said you could ask questions, but hadn’t specified if she would reply.

“We are in the original home of the Coven. The home that was made between our headmistress and Namjoon to house us centuries ago.”

“You keep saying ‘we’, like I’m somehow part of a secret club.”

“We are a coven - not a club.”

“There’s that word, 'we’ again.”

You expected Alice to turn on you at any second. Your patronizing was obviously beginning to get to her by the tightness that formed in her shoulders with every smart remark you shot back in response. You expected her next words to be biting, and ready to scratch their annoyance across your skin. The both of you came to stand before a pair of ornate double doors. The wood had been intricately carved to show a woman surrounded by cherubs and flowers surrounding them. It was a beautiful crafted work of art and one that screamed it wasn’t made this century.

Her hand was poised on its handle, waiting to turn it to expose what lay ahead, and her attention was fully on you. An upturned smile of amusement did little to keep the icy glare off her face. That same coldness ready to send a cruel joke your way, and you were the butt of it.

“I say, ‘we,’ because you are part of the coven. Your great-great-great grandmother, along with the headmistress, founded our pact with The Blood King. He offered us the chance of gaining our own power. Our own immortality.”

“All power comes with a cost.”

Even without knowing diddly squat about magic this much you knew to be true. Your mind remembering in a nightmarish haze the sickly voices that pierced inside your head. Each one promises to give you the power to hurt Alice, and those who wished to do you harm. All they demanded was blood. A life in return for a life. You did not want to be a slave to darkness nor did you want to be a slave of any immortal man.

Alice confirmed your earlier statement with a nod of her head. Her hand finally pushed open the door to expose the landing of a grand double-sided staircase. The room below was as embellished as the halls you’d just walked and the great doors you came through. It screamed old world money. A home that was as timeless as the inhabitants that currently resided inside its walls. Before you moved to stand near the railing you noticed that this floor held another set of long hallways on either side. The doors beyond them created a labyrinth of rooms that hummed with a promise of getting lost if you chose to run.

“Yes it does. The coven knew this and we accepted that cost. The blood of vampires was everything that we had hoped it would be, and more. Their blood heightened our natural abilities. It connected us deeper to the earth and the death underneath. We were able to control living and dead creatures - to speak love into existence and ruin it. We controlled elements and contorted the bodies of Namjoon’s enemies into pretty bows of flesh. We stay in this house to share in giving blood, as well as taking.”

“This sounds like every single one of you pledged your soul to the devil.”

Her words still fresh in your ear you followed her to stand at the edge of the banister. What you saw waiting for you on the ballroom size floor below caused your hands to latch against the wood. Your fingers dug in tight and tighter as you struggled to get your racing heart under control. Panicking now wouldn’t save you. Would anything?

“We are all willing to sell our soul in exchange for something, Y/N. I’m sure you’d sell your soul for your freedom again and, because of that, we choose our own devil to serve.”

The devil Alice meant in particular was seated alone on a long plum velvet couch. His long arms draped coolly across the top and his lean frame draped in a silken shirt that ran like water along his skin. His long legs in black slacks and dress shoes that ticked in time with the impatience the rest of his body didn’t seem to show. Everything about him screamed of power and sex. A dangerous energy and the eyes of this devil were solely on you.

In one last weak attempt, you turned to your ex-best friend and prayed that she could see the terror that raged inside your veins. That pried your eyes wide with fright and left a desert inside your mouth as you struggled to swallow.

“Please, Alice. I don’t belong here. I’m just me. Plan old Y/N, Y/L/N who has midterms, finals, and an apartment I shared with my best friend. Whoever you’re looking for, it's not me.”

But Alice remained unforgivingly brutal. Your words might as well have been said to the wall behind you, with as much emotion as she showed.

“You are here, Y/N, because the blood that flows in your veins belongs here. Your entire life is meant to serve our King the way you great-great-great grandmother did. To speak a curse like a prayer into homes and bend the air in someone’s lungs until not an ounce is left. I’ve been tasked to show you how to do as she did, because Namjoon demanded it. He wants the old ways back, and it is my duty, your duty, to do as he commands.”

She stated each word like it was gospel. Her voice never wavering in its calm determination like it all made absolute sense to her. Maybe it did. Alice believed her life was meant to submit. As for you, you had a hard time submitting to the rules of showing up on time for class so...good luck with that. You realized then no amount of screaming, panicking, or attempt to run would save you. No childish acts of stomping your feet and demanding your one phone call like a prisoner would garner you anything but pain. What Namjoon wanted - he got. What he wanted was plain for all to see as he watched you begin your descent down the staircase.

It felt like it had taken forever for your fingers to pry off the warmth of the wood. For you to be able to feel your feet again just to get them to move you forward. The room was scattered with what you could only assume were other vampires. Their eyes roamed over Alice and you with curiosity, and others with hunger. You realized if Namjoon gave the word, you could be torn to pieces so they could feed. Alice too. The fear that came after that thought was bitter, and the acidic taste of bile in the back of your throat threatened to coat the stairs. You were struggling too hard to control the rush of blood in your ears.

You needed an anchor. A thought. An object. Anything to keep your mind from racing to a thousand and one ways your life couldn’t suck any harder than this moment. Your eyes finally landed on an all too familiar face.

Jungkook stood off to Namjoon’s left. His arms casually at his sides and the curtain of loose waves covered his eyes. Through that curtain of hair you could barely make out that his attention was focused on your every step. When those same eyes roamed the expanse of your body, taking in its new outfit that adorned it, you swore you could feel each flick like a soft brush against your skin. As if his fingers were reaching out to melt into your skin and caress it into submission at his touch.

The fear that held you prisoner since you’d woken up here was replaced by the insatiable sensation to touch him. To be touched by him. The craving felt demanding and it forced you to concentrate hard on not sprinting to his side. Jungkook must have felt it too, because when he looked back into your eyes, that unapologetic smirk was on his face. Eagerly waiting for you to lose your self-control and come running to his arms.

Alice’s abrupt hand cautioning you to stop jerked your eyes away from him and back to the present. With your eyes diverted from Jungkook, you were free to notice you were standing inches away from Namjoon. You’d been so focused on Jungkook you hadn’t realized Alice herded you before him. You hated yourself for not paying attention when it mattered. Looking at Namjoon now, as his arms drew back to his body, his feet moving to push him off the couch, made you wish you could have a do over.

The previous times that you’d seen Namjoon the dim-light from your apartment’s kitchen or the streetlights had cascaded around his features. It’d projected his face in part shadow never allowing it to be fully seen. Now, with him only a few feet from you, and the room perfectly lit, you were able to see how strikingly handsome he was.

The crescent of his eyes reminded you of a predator. Their calculating gaze took in more than just whatever he saw in front of him; saw past what you were desperately trying to hide. He was all high cheekbones and lips that were pink and pouty like he’d been feverishly kissed. And god, was he always this tall?

You couldn’t stop yourself from swallowing the rising dread in your chest as he stood before you. Namjoon moved towards you with the narcissistic grace of a king and the power of something more deadly. That power radiated along your skin with a sickening promise to consume you. Everything you could give he would take even the things you weren’t willing to part with. Namjoon’s power was demanding. Forceful. It was everything to be feared.

It took every last ounce of strength you had not to backpedal away from him. Or to listen to the small voice of fear that’d begun to rage a war inside your chest bringing your panic back to life. The voice, no matter how small, told you it was now or never. As if your chance of running and surviving in a room full of vampires was greater than one percent. Somehow, you found the courage to stifle the blind panic and stand before him without budging, but all bets were off when his face clouded over in rage.

You heard a stifled scream and realized it was you. Your feet no longer held their ground as you went to take that step back from him, but Namjoon was just there. A controlling hand on the back of your neck, his jaw clenched tight, and pulling you to him forcing a plea of, “Please don’t,” to fall from your lips before you could stop it.

Namjoon’s eyes had already bled to crimson and were darting wildly in anger around your face. As if he could see some unseen string that would lead him to whatever unspoken transgression had occurred. Your hands were pushing at his chest trying desperately to put space between you, but it only made him pull you tighter to him.

When his neck bent down to bring his nose across your cheek you hated the squeak of terror your body made. He took in a long scent from your neck with his nose trailing up until he was back to your cheek. His blackened pupils dilating as recognition replaced the question of who, or what, had caused his earlier confusion.

“I’m not a candle. Quit sniffing me so hard.”

Palm. Face. What in the actual hell were you thinking?

His eyes floated down to give you his full attention and you realized you didn’t want it. You seriously didn’t want it. Luckily for you, Namjoon seemed to have something bigger to take care of. With his hand securely around your neck he used it to pull you with him. All the unforgiveness of his rage finally turned to direct itself behind him to none other than Jungkook.

Jungkook had balls. Big balls. Instead of cowering at the power that was emanating from his King, Jungkook replied simply by wearing a smirk. His eyes were full of challenge as it finally dawned on you that what Namjoon had smelt on your skin was Jungkook.

“She reeks of being dream touched and I know damn well this time it wasn’t Jimin! You just couldn’t help yourself, could you.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. Namjoon knew as much as the two of you did that while he’d been patiently waiting for you to wake up, Jungkook had been fucking you into satin blue sheets and marking every part of your body for his own. Now, Namjoon probably didn’t know how extensive all of it was. You, however, did know and at the thought every single person in that room knew what happened between the two of you sent an embarrassment so hot through your body you were sure you matched Namjoon’s eyes.

Jungkook was somehow able to stay smug. His shrug came off unbothered, reckless, and god you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him. Even now with a part of you hating him and wishing you could cuss him out for turning you into this wanton thing - you still wanted him.

Namjoon must have realized it too or maybe it was the way you were currently making googly eyes in Jungkook’s direction. Like the sun shined out of his ass. Whatever it was, it only made his eyes blaze brighter with hatred. Namjoon looked over your face one last time before looking back at the other man. With his eyes trained on Jungkook’s face he made sure he watched as Namjoon brought his right hand into view. You watched as Namjoon’s thumb nail began to extend out - forming into a sharp stiletto. While you watched this it finally brought you back to your senses. Back to the reality that he held you pressed tightly against his chest.

The hold on your neck he’d used to control you in place was now forcing you to arch back until your chest was exposed to the room. The mounds of your breasts peaked out from the top of the dresses fabric and it was there that Namjoon’s nail found a home in its soft skin. When Namjoon drew it down across the skin you sucked in a sharp hiss of air. The burning sensation of blood meeting the air being more of a nuisance than actual pain.

“Forgive me,” he spoke. The baritone of his voice caressed across your skin and cascaded in a shiver down your spine. “Jungkook is still young. He is quick to make bold decisions while forgetting whom it is he serves and who it is you belong to.”

You were ready to spit out you belonged to no one. The burning of your cut quick to remind you how much shit you were in. Before you could even open your mouth to send an insult, his eyes dropped down to meet yours. His hand on your neck flexing as those same eyes roamed the expanse of your neck until he came to the open wound he’d created.

In a blur of speed he whipped you around to make sure Jungkook had a clear view before an ungodly scream left from between Namjoon’s full lips. Your own rose up to match him as your arms lashed out in one final attempt to push him back. Namjoon knocked your arms back down before crushing you further to his chest and, with his eyes turned up to Jungkook, sank his teeth into your breast.

The pain was explosive and immediate. There was a split second, however brief it was, where your mouth was trapped open. A scream caught deep in your throat and all you wanted was to release it, but your body was wrapped up in agony. Namjoon could’ve made this experience more pleasurable. You weren’t sure how you knew, but you had to believe anything was better than being treated like a bone for a ravenous dog. But this…this was meant to be a punishment. A punishment meant more for Jungkook than for yourself and, unfortunately, you were forced along on this ride.

The pain made it hard to focus on anything else. You were aware of Namjoon’s mouth kneading into the soft skin of your breast. The way he made sure his teeth scraped at the tissue inside causing a sharp pain that resembled a bee sting to hit at every nerve. Your vision began to blur with unshed tears as they held their position looking up at the opulent ceiling. Your mind struggled to imagine yourself somewhere else; anywhere but here. Somewhere safe back in your apartment watching reruns of your latest Netflix obsession or drinking an endless supply of poorly made coffee to cram for exams, because you always procrastinate everything. Trying out the latest cafes or finding comfort in getting lost in the shelves of the latest hole-in-the-wall bookstore you could find.

You were ready to make your home in your latest scenario when another voice rose up around you. A scream that turned into a roar of pure rage filled the room and forced you out of your haze. This second voice was equally as terrifying and when Namjoon lifted his mouth off of your breast, you found yourself terrified to find the home that housed that voice. You didn’t have to look far.

Directly in front of you with his body trapped behind the couch was Jungkook, but not the Jungkook you’d meet under fluorescent street lights and full of giddiness for the hunt. It wasn’t the one you’d experienced in your dreams or greeted you the moment you woke up. No, this Jungkook lit goosebumps of fear along your skin and the breath to stop cold in your lungs.

This man - this creature - your eyes glanced over could only be described as a nightmare. All the fairytales and their monsters must have gotten their inspiration from him.

Jungkook’s jaw was horribly distended, fangs longer, as another scream racked through his body. His crimson eyes wide in all his building fury and kept darting back and forth between Namjoon’s lips hovering over the fresh bite on your breast and back to you. He looked ready to strike. His hands grasping on the back of the couch like he was seconds from hauling himself over.

“She’s mine! I claimed her and she chose me!”

The bass of his words reverberated off the walls and came crashing against your chest crushing the breath you’d been holding in your lungs. You were struggling to get any air, but the terror you felt looking between him and the man who still held you hostage by your neck, pressed against his body, kept you paralyzed.

“She was never yours to claim!” Namjoon’s reply brought your eyes back to him and you instantly regretted it. “You forget your place, Jungkook, but I will be more than happy to remind you. Alice.”

Like a dog called by its master, Alice wove her way through the people to stand a few inches in front of Namjoon. It was comical the way she acted like his bodyguard and the way she used her body as a barrier. How did she expect to stand a chance against something like Jungkook?

You didn’t have a chance to try and understand how she could be so cocky. So sure of herself. The curiosity you felt was quickly shifted into a rage so potent it turned your vision black. It filled your mouth with bile and evicted a scream from deep in your belly. Your own roar that sounded reminiscent of Jungkook’s.

“You call your bitch to do your dirty work, my king?”

Jungkook’s voice dripped with acid. His hatred of the woman standing a few inches in front of you evident in the heavy mockery of his tone. It wasn’t lost on Namjoon. His own hand tightening on your neck until you weren’t sure if he was going to snap it, but the rage in your belly wouldn’t allow you to care. It came with an unforgiveness and wanted one simple thing: to make them bleed.

Your eyes began to snap back and forth between Namjoon and Alice. The movement flickering like a movie reel where the frame never changed, but with each passing new image of their face a snarl raised further up your lips. Your chest heaving in ragged breaths where you were sure at any minute you’d start foaming at the mouth.

These people! No, these fucking witches! I hate them. Every last single fucking one of them. If I ever get the chance, they’ll all die screaming with my teeth ripping their throat open. See how quick their hocus pocus saves them, then.

The toxicity of your thoughts felt like they were yours, but they couldn’t be. Weren’t you, yourself, a witch? You didn’t have any intention of offing yourself anytime soon. The craziness of how extreme the thoughts were was enough to clear your head. Your eyes blinking past the blackening dots of your anger to turn your head and look at Jungkook. His chest heaving as hard as yours and that rage that had contorted his face, the hatred in his eyes, seemed to be the perfect mirror of your own.

And just before his anger took over again - yes, his anger - it dawned on you these emotions weren’t your own. Your body now housed the feelings of this man and a million other questions began to spread through your mind. All those questions would have to wait, because as soon as you had a moment of clarity it was gone once more in a fit of rage. A strength you didn’t think you could possess tore you free from Namjoon. His brows lifted in surprise just before your fist connected with a plop against his jaw. You weren’t strong enough to actually hurt him, but stun him was all you were after.

That rage that was brewing in the pits of your stomach released in another scream. The sound of Jungkook’s own resonated with yours until Namjoon answered. His jaw cracking open further to show further razor sharp teeth. You knew he was pissed and was done playing nice, but you couldn’t see past Jungkook’s rage.

Jungkook made a move to hurl himself over the couch, snapping Namjoon’s attention back to him. The look on his eyes spoke plainly that there would be no mercy.

“Alice!”

The demand in Namjoon’s voice was grave and Alice responded immediately.

“With pleasure,” she purred.

Her full attention brought to the rushing vampire before her. There was a moment, where everything felt like it stopped in slow motion. The beat of your heart skips as you realize Namjoon had set her up to fail. Alice was going to die, ripped apart, and screaming by the one who hated her the most and yet, she was unafraid of death. She stood her ground; body powerful and stoic. A single hand rose up just a few inches before Jungkook would’ve collided with her and she spoke: “Flecte concrescentes putrescunt*.”

One second, Jungkook was inches from tearing her throat out and the next he was a twisted mess on the floor. Whatever Alice had done caused Jungkook’s legs to snap at angles that weren’t normal. His back cracking and reshaping as if the spine itself had been split on the inside. It was a grotesque image. An image that would haunt your dreams in its darkest corners; the imagery of Jungkook’s screams of agony only adding to it as his body continued to crack and rotting the flesh away to expose dying organs underneath.

You tried to run to him - to turn away - but Namjoon was back to holding you in place and forcing you to watch. Jungkook continued to scream until his throat caved in from rot and still his mouth stayed open. A silent one filling the air as his eyes full of fire watched with hunger on Alice’s position.

You couldn’t believe what’d just taken place. How words forced this powerful being to crumble at her feet like sand, but Alice had her own power. You’d felt it in the way the air shifted in the room and felt the oppression of it before she’d given, whatever it was, a place to call home.

Namjoon brought you back to his side. His face no longer showing its truth and back to being the well-hidden mask of beauty he’d always worn. He gave you a cautionary smile before his eyes drifted over Jungkook’s contorted figure on the floor and nodded to some men.

“Take him back to his room and seal the door. Let him stay locked inside for a few days so his hunger can build.” Namjoon forced you to move forward with him, his long legs purposely stepping over his underling as he gave him one last fleeting glance. “You are forbidden to eat for two weeks, Jungkook. Let’s see if your anger and pride can keep you from going mad, hmm.”

With his words hanging in the air as if they were law, Namjoon continued to hold him close to his body. You weren’t sure where he was taking you and you couldn’t seem to care. The lingering sensations of Jungkook’s anger were still boiling beneath the surface and it took every ounce of control you had not to turn back and look at him one last time.

Namjoon draped his arm across your shoulders to pull you in tight. His lips landed in your hair as he spoke, “You two will be staying away from each other from now on.”

You wanted to tell him you agreed, but you knew it would be a lie. He - nor anyone else - would ever be able to keep Jungkook from you now, and you weren’t a hundred percent sure if you were worried or excited at the prospect. You should’ve been focused on where Namjoon was taking you with Alice close at his heels. Your mind, however, had unfortunately found a home inside insidious doe eyes and a soft bunny smile.

to be cont’d

* bend and rot

112 notes · View notes

lixis-sin-cauldron · 4 years ago

Text

Father Figure: Punishment [Eraser Head | Shouta Aizawa]

Rating: Explicit 18+ content MINORS DNI. Pairing: Shouta Aizawa (Eraser Head) X fem!reader Word Count: 4.4k Kinks and Warnings: noncon, pseudo-incest, slight somno, vaginal fingering, oral, vaginal sex, unsafe sex, creampie, abuse of trust, restraints, everything bad. Seriously. Aizawa is not a good dude in this.

Summary: Aizawa had taken you in and raised you, loved you. Fought off his urges for so long, but when he found out who you were hanging out with he couldn't control his anger. You just didn't get why he was upset, no matter how hard he tried to explain. If you refused to listen, to understand; he'd have to punish you until you did.

Notes: This fic was inspired by @shorkbrian’s Aizawa fics – Father Figure part 1 and 2. Written with permission as a kind of 1.5 of what the first time Aizawa forced his stepdaughter was like. For an overall understanding of what the story between Aizawa and the reader is please read at least part one first, though it was the paragraph about the scene in part two that made me want to write this.

Links to the fics are here: Part One and Part Two

Can also be read on Ao3 here: Father Figure: Punishment Big thank you to the @dymphnasprose for beta reading this.

By clicking ‘keep reading’ you are actively consenting to see adult, and possibly disturbing, content; and in doing so, saying that you are of an age to see it, and that you’re emotionally capable of handling it. The tags and warnings there to ensure you are fully aware of what content you will encounter before reading, if you proceed knowing something will upset you - you did that to yourself and that is not my responsibility. [further info on this concept here] [and here] [and here]

It was a slow boil at first, Aizawa’s anger, since he wasn’t a man who got angry easily. Yet, when he saw you get out of the car after a day out, saw the ‘friends’ you’d spent the day with, saw you hug those boys goodbye. That they dare ever touch his daughter – well, he felt fury at that moment, barely restrained when you walked into the house.

He tried to make you understand. See how stupid and dangerous it was to be alone with them, how upset he was that you had kept the fact you had male friends secret from him. Even if you were grown up now, you were still weak and so innocent to how men think. You just didn’t get it, how much he worried about you.

How much he loved you.

His fingers tapped in an unsteady rhythm against the wood of his desk while he tried to calm down in his study. Tried to control himself like always did when it involved how he felt about you, but the fire inside was raging and refused to quiet.

How could you not tell him who you were with? Surround yourself with those beasts? He could still smell their stench on you after they hugged you.

A dark thought came to him, what if they had already had you? Spoiled you?

No, no. He knew that wasn’t possible. Not yet, you still felt the same. He would know, he could feel it. You were still pure, untouched… but for how much longer? How long until one or more of them thought they could try to taint you?

You were his baby girl, his darling. It was Aizawa who had taken you into his home. It was him who had raised you, taught you, cared for you like no one else ever could. He loved you more than air itself. After all he had done, he had earned you.

He had earned you.

He finally boiled over, standing so suddenly that his chair toppled over and clattered to the ground. If you wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t see he was right about those boys…

He’d make you understand.

You looked so angelic, nestled into piles of blankets on your bed in nothing but a nightshirt and panties; your chest raising up and down gently as you slept. His own chest swelled with love at the sight, wanting to slip in beside you and take you in his arms – it was one of his favorite things to do with you, napping together. Feeling your soft curves as he held you, your cute little ass pressing against him.

The fact you had never even noticed the hard-on he hid during those naps showed just how naïve you were to the world of men.

Your eyes fluttered open slowly, heavy with sleep, as you felt your body shift and arms move. Aizawa came into focus, confusion at the sight of the man you called your stepfather.

“D-dad?” You muttered as you registered the man hovering over you. Your confusion slipped into panic as you noticed the tight grip he had on your wrists, wincing at the pain that came as he pressed them together against your headboard with one hand. “Dad! What-what are you doing?” you cried, struggling against the tight hold.

He shushed you, “It’s okay, sweetheart.” He purred, brushing away a few strands of hair that had clung to your lips in your sleep.

“Let go!” You were screaming now, twisting and turning in his hold. You tried to kick at him, but he was sitting on your waist, locking you in place so only the lower parts of your legs could flail around, failing to reach him.

“I’m almost done.”

You felt a soft material brush against your tender wrists, wrapping around them. You look up, trying to make out what it was in the darkness of the room. The shape of a long cord came into focus as your eyes adjusted to the dark, binding your wrists to one of the thick poles that decorate your headboard.

The binding tightened against your skin as Aizawa pulled it into a knot, locking your hands in place above you.

“Stop! Let me go!” You demanded again, trying to wrench your hands free.

“Stop,” he growled, grabbing your cheeks rough, forcing you to settle your gaze on him, “It’s just me, baby girl. Just Daddy.” He cooed; his harsh tone having disappeared as quickly as it came.

“W-why are you-? What are you doing?”

“As much as I want to feel your arms around me, I know it will be easier for both of us like this. I promise I’ll untie you when we’re done.”

“D-done? What are you talking about, what are you going to do?”

“I tried to make you understand before, but you just wouldn’t listen.” He shook his head; hand sliding from your face.

“This is about earlier? A-about my friends? I told you-”

“Just because you think you know them; doesn’t mean you do. I won’t let them taint you. I love you too much to let that happen.” He stroked your cheek gently as he spoke, a loving smile on his lips as he stared at you.

“I-I l-love you too, Dad. I’m sorry I upset you. I promise I’ll be careful around them and-”

“You don’t understand,” he growled again, shaking his head angrily, “but that’s okay. You don’t have to. I’m going to take care of you, that’s what Daddies do. They take care of their little girls.”

“You’re scaring me!” you cried, tears coming to your eyes as you started struggling against the weight of him on top of you, trying to throw him off.

A soft groan from him caused you to freeze, feeling something hard against your hips where he sat. “D-dad?” you whimpered.

His eyes were closed as he sighed through parted lips, slowly opening them and giving you a sweet smile as he came back from whatever headspace he had been in as you had struggled under him, “Nothing to worry about, Baby,” his placed his hands on your sides, fingers slipping under the fabric of your nightshirt, “I know this can be a scary thing, but I promise to make you feel so good. I’ll take my time with you, show you how much I love you.”

“N-no, d-don’t touch me.” You begged, trying to pull away from the touch, retreating into your bed to no avail.

His course hands glided up, dragging the shirt as he moved and exposing your skin. As he reached the soft mounds hidden beneath he pulled the shirt over them to bring them to view. He let out a long sigh at the sight.

“You’re so beautiful, so perfect. Such cute, perky breasts.” He trailed a finger over a nipple, circling it.

“No, no, no,” you whimpered, deep sobs breaking between each rendition of the word, “please, no.”

Aizawa paused, bringing his hand to your face and brushing away tears from your cheek gently with his thumb, “Crocodile tears have never worked on me, remember? I know you don’t want to be in trouble, but this needs to happen. You need to understand. I’m the only one who really loves you, who has been there for you forever. The only man you’ll ever need.” He pressed his lips to yours as he finished speaking.

You bit him.

He reeled back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and glancing to see if there was blood. There wasn’t but his lip throbbed from the attempt. He glared at you before slamming his palm into your shoulder and pressing you into the mattress.

Your head bobbed violently with the impact despite the pillow you rested on, mind swirling as you tried to regain your senses.

Aizawa sighed, eyes shut tight as he calmed himself.

“No more tantrums, sweetheart,” he cooed at her with a smile, calm once again, “if you keep acting up like this, I’ll have to take drastic steps to make sure you behave. Understand?”

Your Father had never been a violent man, all you had were happy memories of him but in this moment, seeing that twisted smile, your body was overcome with terror at just what he would do to you if you tried anything else.

“Yes.” Your reply was a whisper, barely audible.

“That’s my girl.” He kissed you again, mouth eagerly taking yours. You were as still as a rock at the touch.

His mouth drifted downwards, light kisses against your neck as he traveled.

Hiccups mixed into your sobs as they started again, realizing what he was doing – where he was going.

His journey took him exactly where you predicted, his scruffy chin rubbing against the soft flesh of your breast. You squirmed involuntarily at the feel of his breath on your nipple but remained in place from his hand still pressing into your shoulder.

You gave a whimper as he took the soft peak into his mouth; suck at it delicately, rolling his tongue around it. His free hand took perch on the other breast, kneading it and rolling the unattended nipple between his fingers.

A struggled gasp came from you at the stimulation. He hummed happily at the sound, blowing lightly and causing the point to tighten and become erect. He shifted his focus, taking the first breast in his hand after removing it from your shoulder and drawing the previously neglected one into his mouth to taste as well.

He remained like that for a short time, making sure to keep his attention balanced between the two; suckling and massaging. He ignored the soft sobs you emitted, the pleas and refusals, and instead enjoyed the shivers that he caused your body to have.

You didn’t want to feel the things he was doing, the strange ache at your core that Aizawa’s actions were building inside you. You hated it, you wanted to scream but didn’t, fearful of what he may do if you did.

He moaned, rubbing his cheek again one breast as he finally relented and took a deep breath, drawing in your scent. “See, Baby? See how good Daddy can make you feel? I’m the only one who can make you feel like this, because of how much I love you.”

“Y-yes, D-dad, I understand. Ar-are we done?” You sniffed, lips quivering as you spoke.

He gave a chuckle at that, “Of course not. I’m just getting started, sweetie. I’m so excited,” he started his soft pecks on your flesh again, starting between your breasts and trailing downwards along your stomach, “I’ve wanted to taste you for so, so long and now I get to.” He slid from his seat atop you, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your underwear.

Legs suddenly free, you felt a new burst of energy and started kicking at him. It was a futile effort, he grabbed your thrashing limbs easily, holding them tightly in his strong grip and pressing them down so they laid flat.

You whimpered at the tight grip as he pressed into you.

“Now, now,” he said, a hint of anger in his voice as he stared you down, “I know you're nervous – I am too – but don’t be a brat or I may hurt you by mistake. You don’t want me to hurt you, do you? All I want is to make you feel good, make you realize Daddy is the only one you need in your life.”

The hand drifted away from your legs, hovering to see if you would act out again. You remained still, trembling as you looked away and buried your face into the curve of your arm, not wanting to see what else he planned to do.

He wouldn’t even let you have that small relief, pulling you back to face him, “Such a shy thing, but I want to see your face so don’t look away again.” No request of confirmation this time, just the threat of what would happen if you disobeyed him anymore.

Returning to the panties, he slid them off slowly, twisting them down your legs despite you pinning them together tightly in a last play of resistance. You gagged as you watched him bring the cloth to his nose, taking a long inhale and let out a staggered sigh. He stuffed the undies into his pocket carefully when he finished. You didn’t want to know why.

He didn’t seem to mind the way you pressed your legs together, simply pushing his hands between your knees and easily parting them with disciplined strength. His happy look faded as his eyes fell between your legs.

“Who?” He growled, seeing the hairless plain of your pussy.

“W-what?”

“Who the fuck are you making yourself so neat and clean for?” His voice was a controlled shout, but his eyes were full of rage that made you shrink.

“N-no one, I- I- I just like it like that-”

“Don’t fucking lie to me.” He snapped, knowing your tells all too well, “Is it one of those boys from before? Have you let someone else see you? Touch you?”

The venom in the words sent renewed terror through you. What would he do if he thought you had been with someone else?

“No! No!” You screamed, “He hasn’t-”

“So, there is a boy.”

You had slipped up, said more than you meant to. “Y-yes,” you hiccupped, “b-but w-we haven’t… h-he hasn’t seen…”

He relaxed; knowing you were telling the truth as you trembled beneath him. His hand returned to your face, wiping away the tears and snot that dribbled down it, “Good. That’s good.” He praised, petting you softly before returning his focus to lower parts.

Aizawa tilted his head as his eyes studied you, a smirk slipping back to his face, “I like this, now that I know it’s something only I get to see.” A finger ran along the clean scape, dancing along the skin back and forth between your thighs, leaving goosebumps where he touched.

He moved, pulling your legs apart further and positioning himself between them, resting one over his shoulder. He easily slipped a finger between your folds with one hand while the other gripped your leg tightly in place over him, bracing you as you wiggled from the touch of him in your most intimate place.

“So pretty,” he purred, spreading your lips apart so he could see the silkiness inside. He sighed at the pure, untainted look of you, “Look at how eager you are to be played with.” His tongue ran up and along the part, causing you to cry out.

“No, no, please, no – Dad, please – don’t do this. Please.”

The words fell on deaf ears as he continued, savoring the taste of you as he explored further with his tongue, finding the cute nub under its hood at the top of your slit. It throbbed, reacting to the stimulation he had been forcing on your body. He twirled around it, watching you with dark eyes as you squirmed at the sensation.

He drew the nub into his mouth, sucking on it harshly, causing a loud moan to escape you as he worked it. He pulled back his head and released it, a pop emitting as he did so, “That’s right Baby, just relax into it.”

Before you could reply, denying the enjoyment and that the noise had just involuntarily come from you, he returned to the mound and began nursing at it, making your words cut before they even began as you whimpered and whined, fidgeting in his hold as he worked.

It became more difficult for you to hold back the noises as he intensified his focus, a finger slipping into you, massaging your insides; curling and twisting to find the points that caused the most response out of you. A slippery, squishy sound filling the darkroom as he sucked at and slipped in and out of you, mixed with your struggled moans, hiccups, and sobs.

As you became wetter, he slid another finger inside – relishing the gasp that came from you as he did so. He spread the two inside you wide, pushing against your velvet walls and stretching you. Working you as he twisted them, loosening the tight space in preparation. As he massaged you, he felt the walls constrict around his fingers, pressing them closed as you tightened with the orgasm.

He sucked at you eagerly as you came, tongue gliding along your opening and lapping up the juices while steadying you as your back arched and toes curled with the intense phenomenon.

Finally relenting, he let your leg fall to his side; straightening himself so he could take in the full view of you as you quivered, your hands locked in a death grip around the pole of the headboard that you were tied to, eyes glossy and wide as you tried to regain your senses.

“See? That’s how much Daddy cares for you. No immature boy would be so meticulous with you, making sure you were nice and ready for him before they rutted into you like some wild animal. No, a real man – one who loves you, like me - takes his time. Aren’t you glad that you don’t have to worry about anything, knowing Daddy will take care of his little girl?”

You gave no reply, just staring at him as you tried to understand why this was happening, your tears and sobs having stopped as your mind realized they were useless.

“Let’s clean you up,” he fussed, taking his shirt and sliding it off. First, he wiped his own face, then ran the fabric over your cheeks, clearing away the dry tears and mucus before finally wiping it gently over your inner thighs. “Look at you… so beautiful.” He stared at you longingly, taking in your disheveled form.

He brushed away the hair that had fallen over your face before taking your chin in his hand and leaning down for a kiss. It wasn’t a simple one this time either; his lips parted, pulling yours apart with them. His tongue slithered in, finding yours and twisting around it, sucking at it.

You tried not to think about the fact you could taste yourself.

“Let’s see…” Aizawa hummed, eyes studying you carefully after he withdrew.

You let your head fall back into the pillow, eyes to the ceiling as he contemplated. Hoping he was finally done.

“Ah, yes.” He lifted your hips, taking another pillow from elsewhere on the bed and sliding under you.

“W-what are you doing?” You asked, confused by the action.

He nodded, understanding the confusion, “A logical question. You see, it's important to elevate the hips, that way it's easier to move. Makes everything feel better.”

“F-feel better? What- Aren’t you done?”

“Of course not,” he purred, rubbing your thigh up and down, “I told you, sweetie, I’m not going to let anyone else have you. Your first time is supposed to be special, with someone you love and who loves you. Some hormonal boy would never be good enough for you.” He worked at his waist, unbuttoning it and sliding the zipper down as he spoke.

Your eyes went wide, and you started scooting away from him, “No, no, no – you can’t – this is-”

He held you in place, your legs spread open around his, “Now, none of that. I’ve told you plenty of times already. If you had just listened to me and stayed away from those animals… well, we’re past that now.”

He tugged the pants down, boxers with them, and took his dick in hand; stroking it as his eyes traveled along your exposed body, “I’ve dreamed of this for so long, held myself back – but you had to act up, didn’t you?”

“I’m sorry.” You whimpered, looking away from him, not wanting to see him stroke himself or the raging hard-on he had.

“Don’t look away, remember?” He growled.

Your eyes snapped back to him, locking to his to both fulfill the command and do your best to avoid the rest of him.

“Good girl.”

“Please, Dad, please. I’m your daughter, remember? You-”

“You’re right,” he nodded in agreement. You started to smile, thinking you had gotten through, then he continued, “You’re my little girl. That means no one else gets to touch you, but me.” He growled, pressing the head of his cock against your soaked pussy.

You tried pleading more, screaming and begging him to stop, but those went silent with a whimper as he pressed inside you. At first, just the head entered, slow and steady, but the moment you enveloped him he lost the control he had and thrust hard, shoving every inch of him as deep as he could.

A slow exhale slipped between his parted lips as he felt you encompass him. “Finally…” he whispered, eyelids fluttering as he rested inside you. He gave a blissful smile, “See, baby? See how well you take me? It’s like you were made for me. It feels amazing, doesn’t it?” He seemed not to notice or care that you were shaking, your nails digging into the wood of the headboard as your body quivered at the sudden invasion.

He started rocking gently, hips slow as he moved. As he did, he continued to ramble; praising you and calling you his little girl, saying how good you felt. How he shouldn’t have waited so long for something you both wanted.

The gentle words turned to growls and harsh words as he started moving faster, the bed started to shake as he did. He went on and on about how you belonged to him and how dare some children think they could take you from him. That you just had to provoke him, make him act out, and have to punish you like this.

“Move your hips, sweetheart, it will make it feel even better.” He commanded, taking your hips in hand rocking him in time with his thrusts.

At first, you hated it, knowing he was right about how it did feel better. How with each plunge into you he did, the better you felt. Yet, as it continued, you fell into the feeling, letting it envelop you and help you slip away from the reality of what was happening.

He noticed. He noticed your muscles relaxed, your moans get louder as you took over from his guidance and rocked with him on your own.

“Yes, baby, just like that.” He growled in ecstasy, his arms wrapping around your body as he buried his face into your chest. He started pressing deeper, harder. Jack-rabbiting into you over and over, the pressure causing you to bounce against the mattress and press back into him, forcing cries and moans from you as you were overcome with the reactions he caused.

“That’s right, come for Daddy,” he purred, feeling you clench his cock tighter as you reached another peak. He slipped a hand down between your legs, his fingers rolling your clit to edge you closer.

You screamed as the wave rushed through you, the headboard rattling in your grip as you shook.

Aizawa didn’t slow despite this, pushing through the tightness of you and pounding into you further. Crying your name, praising you, and fawning over how amazing you felt.

You weren’t sure how long it kept going; time lost as he rocked in and out of you, playing with you and pushing you to orgasm again and again. Soon enough all that came from you whimpering moans as he continued, bringing you to another edge.

“Yes, yes, that’s my girl, come with me,” he moaned from his current position over you, your legs held around his waist as he sat on his legs and pumped into you.

He was finally going to finish, you realized. Thankful that it would soon end but then you considered what that meant.

“W-wait,” you stuttered, trying to remember how to speak, “don’t-” your words cut as he arched his back, rutting deeply into you and knocking the wind from your lungs.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to pull out. It’s our first time, I’m not wasting a single moment.” He stated, seeming to understand your intent but misinterpreting, as always, into what he wanted.

“No, no. Please, Daddy-” you begged as you felt your climax roll through you.

Aizawa reached his peak too, your calling out to him like that pushing him over his edge while you squeezed around him. He grunted, pressing as deeply inside of you as he could as he filled you. He rocked gently, forcing out what was left from the initial surge. Then he was still, his head hanging as it swayed back and forth. He set your legs down gently on the bed, releasing his hold on them.

Despite his warnings, you buried your face back into your arm, trying not to think about what he had just done - not wanting to be lucid enough yet to believe everything that was happening. You whimpered as he withdrew and tried pressing your legs shut in response, but he stopped you, holding them open.

Aizawa smiled, watching as your pussy pulsed and the thick, white liquid dribbled out of the tight little hole he had just been inside. Reaching into the pocket of his pants as they rested around his knees and he pulled out his phone, blinking at the bright light as it turned on before pressing the camera app and aiming at the sight before him.

“Look, see how amazing you made me feel?” He asked, shifting to lay beside her and showing her the photo he had taken.

You didn’t want to look but knew he would force you if you didn’t. You had thought your tears all dried up, but seeing the photo, you started crying again.

“Shhh. Shhh, it’s okay. I know, I know,” he cooed, setting the device down and petting your hair gently.

As he comforted you, he untied the binding of your wrists and let them fall. You didn’t try moving despite the freedom and just remained limp as he drew you into a loving embrace. “I know, the first time is overwhelming. So many new sensations, but Daddy made sure you were ready and took as much time as I could. That’s how much I love you, I wanted your first to feel amazing. The next time will feel even better as your body learns to work with me.” He rubbed a cheek against your hair as he spoke.

You trembled at the words he had spoken, the implications. You wanted to run, but you had nothing left so you just laid there in his embrace, dead-eyed as he continued whispering sweet nothings to you.

——Tag List ——

(Please check this post if you would like to be included!)

@underratedmage @tomurasprincess @elektraeriseros @lilleeboi @smolladyy

#aizawa #yandere aizawa #aizawa x reader #eraserhead #mha #bnha #dark content #tw:incest #somno #abuse of trust #yandere #please advise me if i miss an important tag or tw #shorkbrian #sin #stepfather #stepdaughter #dont forget a reblog brings a smile to a face

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amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes · 3 years ago

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Toy Box

AN: This is my entry for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor Two Years of Darkness challenge. My prompt is Mob!AU you wonder about your bf/gf's late nights and the answer surprises you and my character is Bucky. I took a friendship route to the gf and not romantic and this went from Bucky to an add on. This is a little late but I changed the story and characters last minute; I apologize. Not beta’d so all mistakes are my own. My character is written with a WOC in mind but all read. Please don’t repost my work without my expressed permission 🗣🗣🗣

Warnings: ‼️NON-CON‼️, allusions to prostitution, voyeurism, unwanted groping, slight gun play, violence(the gun is discharged), threesome? four-way? IDK how to classify it. Proceed with caution and do not read if the subject matter offends you.

Pairing: Officially? Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 3,121

~~~~~

“Hey, what are you doing to make all this extra money?”

Sabrina, your roommate, gave you a weary look as you hesitated by the large double doors. The sounds of the busy street unnerved you but you wanted to do this. Besides, if Sabrina could do it, why couldn’t you? While she had been quite cryptic in telling you what her part-time job duties are, you trusted Sabrina. She'd been your roommate and best friend for years and you had all confidence in her.

"You really wanna know?" The uncertainty in her voice went ignored. You placed your hands on your hips and tsked. She avoided your pointed glare. Secrets were never kept between the two of you; you both knew everything about each other so to think she was holding something from you was offensive.

"Girl, yes. I wanna know how you go from not being able to pay your half of the rent to now covering my half. What's the deal?"

After nearly an hour of guilt tripping her, Sabrina finally caved and told you she was working for "some hotel in guest services and entertainment". When you pressed her for a better explanation, she just shrugged and asked if you wanted to meet her boss and get the job description from her. While you may not have skills to be an entertainer, surely they had a position at the front desk you could do. That night you happily edited your resume and dreamt of all the things you could do with the extra money; pay off a bill or two and save for that vacation you so desperately need.

"You ready?" A hand on your shoulder brings you back to reality. Of all places, you didn't expect her to bring you to the Hotel Cortez. The Cortez was well known as one of two hives for the new crime syndicate that took over the town a few years back. You'd only half paid attention to the news articles as they listed the main culprits: James Barnes, and Carol "The Captain" Danvers. The two of them wreaked havoc on the town and had nearly the entire police force in their back pocket. You’d been lucky enough to not cross paths with them or their associates, hearing that once you get tangled with them, you’re stuck.

Humming a response to her, you take a deep breath to steady yourself. It wasn't like you're doing anything illegal, you’d be so far down the ladder that the worst that could happen to you was you get fired. At least you still had your full time job to fall back on. Placing your hand on the handle, you shift your portfolio and push open the large glass doors. Red and gold carpet covers the lobby floor and high crystal chandeliers illuminate the area in a dreamlike glow; a true juxtaposition to what you believed it would look like. Standing in the middle of the lobby, you gawk at the red velvet chairs that look like mini thrones rather than chairs. You feel out of place and severely under-dressed with your black maxi skirt and white shirt.

“They’re ready for you, Ruby. Go on up.” You startle and turn towards the feminine voice. Behind a desk you didn't even notice, a blonde woman in a fitted white dress smiles at you. Sabrina mumbles her thanks and hooks her arms in yours, dragging you to the opposite side of the desk. Frowning, you turn to Sabrina when you stop in front of an elevator.

“Who the hell is Ruby?”

“Me.” her eyes never leave the floor indicator, the numbers counting down. Clearing her throat, she shrugs. “They give us nicknames here, you don’t use your real name.”

“Why?” The elevator dings and slides open. Still hooked with you, Sabrina pulls you into the elevator and presses floor 21. You turn to her with your arms crossed. She avoids your glare and sighs.

“It's not too late to turn around.” You tilt your head in confusion at her. Before you can ask for clarification, the elevator dings and the door opens. Again you are taken aback at the decor of the room. You were expecting an office, not a large gray sofa and matching chair on a white rug nor the ceiling to floor windows that made the walls. The rest of the floor was hardwood and more gray chairs scattered about. Tall white vases of varying bouquets of flowers sat on matching gray tables and a small chandelier casts a soft glow. Sabrina let you go and walked further into the room. You stood awkwardly a few feet from the elevator, too nervous to move in fear of breaking something.

A call of your name beckons you to move. You hear voices and as you exit the foyer, you get a better view of the room. More gray furniture decorate the room and to the far left of the room, a large L shaped desk with matching cabinets. A woman is perched on the corner of the desk, her short black dress raised over her long legs as she giggles at a blonde woman behind the desk. In a chair to their right, a man sits with a glass and watches you as you stop next to Sabrina. The woman behind the desk stands and moves toward you. Swallowing hard, your resolve falters when you recognize her. Carol Danvers. You weren’t expecting to see any of the bosses and seeing her up close is daunting. Her presence is authoritative as she strides towards you, her tailored black suit as unwavering as her gaze.

“This her?” the woman on the desk glances at Sabrina before raking her eyes slowly down your body. Carol hums as she paces around you, the action making you uneasy.

"She's cute. What do you think, Barnes?"

Your anxiety spikes as you realize that both of the mob bosses are within arms reach of you and staring you down. Sabrina elbows you in the ribs and clears her throat as she introduces you. You plaster your best smile and hand your portfolio to Carol. She takes it from you and as you are about to speak, she tosses it to the woman still on the desk.

"How adorable is this? She brought a resume." Her teasing making you frown. You reach for your portfolio but she pulls back and sticks out her tongue with a wink.

"Maria," Carol playfully chides. "Don't give the new girl a hard time. Test her, James."

He hums from his seat and placed his glass on the table. You clear your throat and begin to list off your work experience, his hand reaches to his belt and unfastens it. You pause and turn to Sabrina again who shrugs. Carol resumes her place next to Maria and places a hand on her thigh. Your eyes bounce between the women before falling back to James who is in the process of opening his fly.

"You know what? Maybe this position isn't for me." You attempt to sound braver than you feel but your voice comes out small. "Thank you for the opportunity, we're leaving." Taking a step back, you turn fully to Sabrina who is looking at the floor and you grab her wrist.

Maria giggles as Carol's hand creeps under the hem of her dress. You attempt to pull Sabrina but she doesn't move. You look at her incredulously as James stands with a deep sigh. Your flight or fight instinct kicks in and you drop her wrist. Right as you are about to run, a strong grip on the back of your neck pulls you back and you collide with warm flesh. You scream and attempt to twist away from the strong hand holding you but the hand moves from your neck to your hair and pushes you down.

“Ruby, you didn’t tell her, did you?” James asks but Sabrina stays quiet. He steps into your peripheral and turns your head towards him, the strain on your neck painful. "She's my little toy. And sometimes I lend my toys for others to play. Get it?"

You reach back and grab his wrist in an attempt to release some of the pressure from your scalp but his hold is ironclad. His hand disappears into his pants and you cringe as he pulls his cock out and taps it against your bottom lip. You grind your teeth as he taps again on lip and sighs after a moment. His grip on your hair tightens and you gasp at the pain.

"Come on, I don't have all day." His bored tone is offensive and you glare up at him. You purse your lips together in defiance and Maria laughs.

"Love the fight in her, Ruby. But I want a show." Maria faux pouts as Carol's fingers work their way higher and Maria spreads her legs to allow her access. "Talk to your friend."

You glance up at Sabrina who is fidgeting and still avoiding eye contact. She sucks her teeth and rolls her eyes. "Just do it and get it over with. You're being dramatic."

"Dramatic?!" You shriek and attempt to twist in his hold to face her but he spins you around and uses the momentum to force himself into your mouth. You gag around him and jerk your head back but you are unable to maneuver away from him. You grunt in frustration and as you're about to bring your canines down full force on him, cool metal presses against your temple.

"Bite me and I'll blow your fucking brains out." His warning freezes all movement from you. Your eyes water as he slides the metal from your temple to your line of sight and you look down the barrel of his gun. Saliva gathers at the corners of your mouth as you hold him there, not daring to move. He taps the gun twice on your forehead before he tsks. Quicker than you can register, he releases his hold on your hair and the pressure from the gun is moved. You jerk away from him as a loud pop reverberates the room. You scream and cower on the floor as Sabrina drops to the floor near you. She's crying and holding her arm, blood seeping through her fingers. Carol laughs as you scream again and reach for her but a click near your ear draws your attention back to the man in front of you.

"Consider that a warning. Hurry. Up." The gun returns to your head but the metal is now hot and burns your skin. You shake your head, taking one last glance at Sabrina who returns your gaze with watery eyes. Sitting up on your knees, you reach for him with trembling hands. He's warm to the touch and the feel of him twitching against your fingers almost has you reeling. His hand returns to your hair though he doesn't grip this time. Closing your eyes, you give him a few tentative strokes before you slowly ease him into your mouth.

"Good girl. Show us what you can do." Maria purrs and Carol hums. You brace a hand on his thigh and try to recall every porn movie you've ever seen. Hollowing your cheeks, you push him as far as you can and attempt not to gag as he brushes the back of your throat. A deep moan rumbles through his chest when you bring your other hand to his base and twist your wrist to mimic the movement of your mouth. A whimper behind you makes you speed up; you may have been upset with Sabrina but you didn't want her to bleed out. Maria moans loudly and for a moment you can simultaneously hear the sound of her being fingered with your slurping noises.

"Keep going." You aren't sure who gave the soft command but you respond by flattening your tongue in an effort to stifle your gag reflex so you can take him deeper. It must work because you hear him hiss and he bucks his hips involuntarily showing him deeper down your throat. Unprepared for the invasion, you try to pull back but the hand on your head locks you in place. Your nails dig into his leg as you try not to panic because you can't draw in a breath. He holds you for a few seconds before the hand on your head reimplants in your hair and pulls you backwards. You fall on your backside as you cough. You turn to check on Sabrina who has gone quiet. She's curled up in a ball and as you reach for her, you're once again pulled back. A soft hand caresses your cheek and it takes a second that it's Carol, not James, who has you this time.

"Maria, baby. Assume the position. Show the new girl how it's done." Maria hops off the desk and moves to the side of the chair James was sitting in. Carol hoists you up by the arm and stands you on the opposite side of the chair. "Go on honey." At Carol's order, Maria lifts her dress and bends over the arm of the chair with her hands clasped in front of her over the sitting cushion. She wiggles her hips and licks her lips, eyes never leaving yours. You are about to protest when strong hands push you to bend forward, the arm of the chair hitting you roughly in the stomach. You groan in pain and try to squirm away but your hands are held in front of you by Maria. She intertwines your fingers with hers and places a soft kiss on your knuckles.

"Let's see what's under the hood, hm?" Carol mumbled before your skirt is lifted and bunched at your waist. You made to protest but another shove forward had you hitting your stomach again and the pain stunned you into compliance. Nimble fingers danced along your panty line and when they reached the crotch, the fabric was ripped away. Her strength and actions shocked you as she brushed along your inner thigh. Tears fill your eyes as she reaches your outer lips and spreads them with her thumb and index finger. You feel her circle around your entrance before ghosting down to your clit. You hear her chuckle and shame fills you and you know what she fills.

"Oh you'll like this one, James. She's soaked and just from sucking dick? She'll be a good earner." You try to hide your face as she slips a finger inside of you and then another before abruptly pulling out. From your place on your arm, you see Carol's shiny black shoes move away from you and you peek up to see her stand behind Maria. Carol places the fingers that were inside of you on Maria's lips and you watch as Maria suckles on them.

You lower your head in embarrassment when your feet are kicked apart and strong hands grip your waist. You protest by trying to stand again but once again you are pushed into the arm of the chair and the wind is knocked from you.

"Same time?" Carol asks, amusement lacing her tone. Maria holds you tighter as you feel James step closer to you, the head of his cock poised at your entrance. You try to wiggle away from him but he takes another step forward and pushes further into you. Tears stream freely down your face as Maria rolls her hips, Carol slowly fucking her with her fingers. Maria leans forward and places a gentle kiss on your lips. James pushes further into you and you gasp; Maria taking the opportunity to shove her tongue in your mouth. She swallows your pained grunt when James thrusts into you without warning. He gives you no time to adjust to his size before he sets a brutal pace. Every push of his hips sends your abdomen further into the arm of the chair and you don't know what to focus on: the pain, the woman in front of you, your friend bleeding on the floor or the man behind you. Maria releases one of your hands and snakes her free hand down the front of your blouse. You twist away from her roaming hand as she slips under your bra to squeeze your breast.

"Please, stop." You beg to no one in particular but hope they all would stop. Your request is met with a breathy laugh from Carol who's pumping her fingers faster into Maria in an attempt to match James speed. The legs of the chair protest under your combined weight and the force of the man thrusting behind you. His hand finds the small of your back and forces you to arch; the new position causes you to moan subconsciously.

"Oh, there's her sweet spot. Do it again." Maria begs, her tongue sweeping across your bottom lip. He obliges and your body unwillingly comes alive. He pushes you down further and you grab the chair cushion for purchase. Maria kisses you again and in your haze you return the kiss which earns a moan from Carol, her hand moving at an unnatural speed. James plunges into you at the same brutal pace and you can feel your arousal. You know he can feel it too because his breathing is becoming labored and his hold on your hip is bruising.

"Bad girl, Ruby. Keeping your friend away from us." James' voice is strained and you're surprised how he can speak and breathe at the same time. A whimper is his response; you can't look at your friend right now as a string of curses fall from your lips. Your orgasm hits you unexpectedly and you babble incoherently as his pace never falters. Maria kisses your nose and shushes you as writhe under him. A few more pointed thrusts has you falling into another orgasm and this time you gush over him. Maria whines as she throws her head back and you watch her, too blissed out to look away. James hips sputter and he abruptly pulls out of you which makes you wince. One hand is still on your hip and he groans low above you, warmth hitting the back of your thighs. The room is filled with heavy breathing before you feel your legs give out from under you. You slide to your knees and rest your head against the chair. The sound of liquid pouring has you tilting your head back as James pours himself a drink. His eyes connect with yours and he brings the glass to his lips and takes a large gulp.

"Welcome to the toy box, Carnelian."

Not tagging a lot of people just in case this isn’t your thing: @avintagekiss24 @sapphirescrolls @marvelmaree @titty-teetee @angrythingstarlight

#twoyearsofdark #bucky x reader #bucky x woc!reader #non-con

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imalwaystiredzzz · 3 years ago

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Ｃ3：ＴｏＳｉｎｇｔｈｅｓａｍｅｏｌｄｈｙｍｎ

WARNING: explicit not SFW, Sexual content, yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, noncon, blood, gore

< To sing the same old hymn chapters >

"This is the way the world ends, not with a bang but a whimper." - T.S. Eliot, The Hollow Men

Sukuna stumbles upon a village of lowly farmers, he finds it amusing that they begged and would offer him even their beloved daughters in exchange for their lives. He remembers the shrine and the devout maiden.

This time the curse plays god, he lets them live in exchange for a temple fit for a king and a sacrificial maiden every summer and winter. He imagines them crumbling in despair in a year or two, slowly succumbing to the madness of having all this blood in their hands but the lowly village thrives.

In the third life, (y/n) was born in a rich village who worshipped a god that descended from heaven and resided in the temple at the mountain. In exchange for safety and prosperity, the village would offer him a maiden and keep the temple clean.

These sacrifices were bred from the noble family of (l/n), the girls from a young age groomed to be the idea of a perfect woman fitting to be offered to a god. There was no love for the god that your family honored, but fear that resides in your heart. Deep in your bone, you know this is a lie, your sisters were not taken to the heavens by god.

The cicadas sing in summer, as you wear a red Furisode , the flowers blooming in the sleeves like a garden. Your mother thinks red is your color, you don't tell her you prefer the color of the sakura. Your older brothers giggle and talk of how lucky you are to see god, they were picked for birthing the next generation. All eyes are turned to you as the festival for your coming of age began.

Everyone asks what you may wish for and it will be given today, you simply smile and continue to eat small treats, it feels too much like the final supper. You couldn't stomach any food.

When evening came, you were garbed in the finest of fabric you've only seen your cousins, aunts and an older sister wear. It extremely resembled that of a Miko's attire, you hope to bring something to remind of home but tradition doesn't allow it and yet underneath the layers of cloth, you hold a temari ball. The small sounds it makes when the pavilion jolts bring comfort from the fear that's making the tips of your finger shake.

Imagine his surprise when he sees you again in the flesh. Sukuna believes in reincarnation as much as he believes in the existence of gods. Garbed in beautiful robes, the (h/c) woman prostates herself before him. He's amused, here you were offered like a lamb once more.

Sukuna thinks that if gods other than him did exist they must be extremely cruel to curse your soul for a sin he had made. So this time, because he was your god he would grace you with a different torment.

So he doesn't kill you, the curse keeps you isolated in the huge temple. There was the blind errand boy to give you supplies and clean the place once a month, yet he avoids even your shadow lest he wants to incur the wrath of a god.

You feel like you were forgetting how words worked as you haven't talked to a soul since a month of coming here.

It makes you stir crazy and childhood nightmares were resurfacing, waking in the middle of the night wide eyed. You were unsure if it was the same monster or your mind was replacing it with the four limbed god. In the middle of the night, when the marked god wasn't back you would go out and play with the temari ball. It reminds you of home, the bells bring comfort.

Your god, comes and goes on a whim but never stays too long. Sukuna simply checks how you were, with the bonus of hearing your gasp and cries as he takes you to bed - he never did get the pleasure of hearing those pretty lips wail in your first life.

But it wasn't enough. It was never enough.

He get's bored, sometime he contemplates how he'll kill or torture you on the way back to the temple but remembers how you died at his hand the last time. He has yet to meet an interesting toy, the way you interest him.

The cicadas were singing as the heat season ended, the nights were becoming colder and longer. He hears bells, and wonders to it like a moth to a lamp only to stumble upon the (h/c) girl playing in the empty lot, her (e/c) brimming with life and nostalgia.

He slowly frequents the shrine now, from the monthly visits he makes a point to show up at least twice. Sukuna enjoys how you prostrate yourself when he comes, those pretty eyes becoming duller following his form as he goes out the room, the slight hints of clinging. He likes that.

The curse endulge the idea of having you follow him like a god, to sing those hymns and praises in his name, for you to devote yourself to him like he was your world.

Sukuna was selfish and he only knows how to take and take and take.

The snow falls outside the shrine, the sound of footsteps and ring of bells from the familiar pavilion, Sukuna waits for the next sacrifice with you by his side pouring sake. You'd rather be here than alone.

A girl prostrates herself before the god, wearing the same clothes you once don. You'd rather be by his side than alone.

He tears her limb from limb, she cries for help, an arm reaching out to you before being torn and eaten. The floor is red with the same blood that flows in your veins, the devil enjoys his meal.

You'd rather be with the devil than the ringing silence that makes you mad.

He tears your clothes and has his way with your body, next to the mutilated body of your little sister. Tears gathering in the corner of your eye at the unprepared penetration, you wonder how you'll get the blood out of your hair.

The devil likes this too. He keeps you like how one keeps a trained pet.

He stays in the temple a bit longer now, Sukuna boasts about his carnage while drinking sake that you pour for him. You have no stories to tell, and he's not interested. Sometimes he forgets about the first life, sometimes it bothers him.

He tests the water and asks about past lives, but all you can tell him is that you dream of a four armed god, omitting that these weren't just dreams but a nightmare that had his face as the monster. Sukuna was sure that those dreams are memories of the first.

He likes that too. He must have left an imprint on your soul, wouldn't that brand you as his?

More seasons come and go, you count the year by counting the death of your kin but nothing changes.

There was only you, the big empty temple and the four armed god that you worship. You slowly forgot what the outside looks like, but that didn't matter all that mattered was god favors you and keeps you by his side. You cling to him, the way he wants you to. Your now pale hands can't feel anything and the nightmares never stop.

You grew on him, quite like how an owner grows to favor a pet dog.

(Y/n) lasts 7 years before falling sick.

The cicadas sing as you lay on the futon sweating and breathing heavily, you stare at the window the sun is gone. You hear a familiar bell, Sukuna places the temari ball beside your bed, he leaves you to suffer a slow painful death of starvation and sickness.

Sukuna has no use for a sick pet.

He feels a tinge of regret but doesn't linger on it.

He burns the village before the sun rises.

*Furisode : is a ceremonial clothes in Japan for coming of age, coming of age is when a girl begins her menstruation

*Mikos : are shrine maidens, they wear a white top that looks like a yukata and a red hakama. >For visuals in the movie "Your Name," Mitsuha wears these clothes when she was dancing.

*Temari balls are hand balls made by parents and given to children on new year. It can have decorations like bells and contain a parent's wish inside. >The temari ball that you received from mother contains a wish that you die at a young age or swiftly when you're offered.

*Mother, father and the whole village knows what happens to the girls, but she can't say anything coz she's the matron of the family. Sacrifice children are left in religious ignorance.

*Your family often gives birth to females (that's why they were chosen) and the males are required to have many many children since sacrifices take 2 kids a year. That's taking into account you have many uncles and aunts.

#yandere sukuna x reader #yandere sukuna #sukuna #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen ryomen #jjk ryomen #jjk sukuna

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luminnara · 4 years ago

Text

The Dismemberment Song PART 2 | BOP Victor Zsasz x Reader | 18+

Fandom: Birds of Prey

Words:

Summary: Zsasz takes a liking to one of the burlesque dancers at Roman’s club. It turns out the two have a little history together...and they both want to do something about their unresolved tension.

PART ONE | PART TWO

Thanks so much for reading!! I really really hope you like this, because BOP Zsasz needs more love and attention, and I, for one, am determined to give it to him!

Words: 3,666

Warnings: Alcohol, blood, violence, mutilation, that good good smutty smut (oral, penetration), kinda dom!Zsasz

Requests are open!!

You had never been in Roman Sionis’s penthouse. It was strictly off limits to anyone he didn’t personally invite, and you didn’t even think that his favorite little bird, Dinah Lance, had been up there. Now, though, here you were, stepping out of the elevator with Zsasz on your heels as you marveled at the converted loft.

“Holy shit,” you breathed, looking around.

Roman’s place was filled with weird art, all sorts of exotic masks sitting on pedestals or hanging on the walls. There was a long, dark dinner table with a decorative fruit platter sitting in the center, and an open floor plan allowed to see the spacious living room surrounded by huge walls of windows that overlooked the East End. It was the perfect blend of luxurious and industrial for someone like Roman, and you sighed as you imagined yourself living somewhere so nice.

“‘Sthat all about?” Zsasz asked in that rough, low, almost drawling voice.

“Just admiring the view,” you said as you left him to go stand before the windows.

“Yeah,” Zsasz agreed. “It’s nice.”

But his eyes were on you, not the Gotham skyline.

“Do you stay here with him?” You asked, turning to look at Roman’s henchman with a bright, exuberant smile on your face, as if you hadn’t just murdered a man onstage in the club.

“I do.” Zsasz approached you, hands in his pockets as he moved in that watchful, predatory way you always saw him slinking around with. “I’ve gotta protect the boss. He needs me.”

“You must do a pretty good job of it.” You mused. Now that you were confident that Roman wasn’t going to have Zsasz peel your face off, you were allowing yourself to relax again.

“It’s my job.” He said simply, coming to stand behind you. He was so close that you could smell his cologne, his breath hot on your neck as he leaned in.

You froze.

His chest was brushing your back and you were almost certain he could hear the way your heart was hammering away in your chest. You held perfectly still, not daring to move a muscle as Zsasz brought a hand up to brush your bloodstained curls away from your shoulder.

His fingers were rough, calloused, and warm, just like the rest of him, his hands big and strong enough that you were confident he could kill you unarmed in the blink of an eye. The weird, sadistic side of you would welcome it; though you had never admitted it to anybody before, you were pretty sure that Victor Zsasz was the only man you would ever allow to kill you.

You could remember the first time you met him, years ago, when he and Roman came to your old gig to convince you to start up at the Black Mask. He had less scars back then, but still the same bleached hair and that fucking handsome stubble on his jaw. You had been entranced as you watched him follow your eventual employer around, the club owner giving them their own corner booth and all the bottle service that Roman Sionis could possibly want.

You could remember how your legs had turned to jelly when the shift manager sent you over to them, but you must have managed to hide it well, because you spent the rest of the night drinking and partying with Roman fucking Sionis. Then, obviously, one thing led to another, and you had gone to work for him.

The part you had never told anyone about, though, the part you never spoke of, was the part where Zsasz had taken you into a vip room.

You didn’t remember all the details about everything that night, but you could still recall every moment you spent on his lap. Every appreciative squeeze he gave your ass and thighs, every low moan he let out as you rocked your hips with his. You still dreamt about it once in a while, even though you were sure that it had all been something about Roman making his lackey inspect the goods before hiring you.

But still...you had loved it.

He always wore his shirts unbuttoned a fair ways down to show off the scars on his upper chest, but that night, you had gotten to see more. You could remember how you had run your fingers over them, and the way that Zsasz had watched you almost reverently. You didn’t know exactly why he etched them into himself, if it was to intimidate everyone or for some personal reason, but you didn’t find them odd or ugly. You loved the raised scar tissue and the way it felt, so smooth to the touch despite looking so gnarled, and it was one of the many reasons you had always harbored a secret liking for Victor Zsasz.

Now, as he stood so close behind you, you felt that same jelly in your legs.

“You should get cleaned up, kitten.” He said in that low voice. “The boss wouldn’t want you making a mess.”

You tilted your head slightly, watching him out of the corner of your eye. “Why don’t you show me to the shower then, Zsasz?”

It came out more sultry than you had intended, but when he responded by pressing his hips into your ass, you were glad. He caught the way your breath hitched in your throat, his eyes trained on yours as he did nothing but stare at you for a few agonizingly long moments.

“Right this way, Princess.” He finally broke away.

You brushed off your mild disappointment, mentally chastising yourself for hoping that would have gone further, and followed him down a hallway, passing a few closed doors before reaching one that stood open. When Victor stepped in and flipped the light switch, you stood and gawked at what awaited you.

Of course Roman Sionis would have the nicest guest bathroom in Gotham.

It was huge, a claw foot tub sitting against the wall across from the sink while a shower was situation at the far end. Everything was off-white and antique gold, simple and elegant and clearly very expensive.

“Holy shit,” you said under your breath, for the second time that night. “Roman doesn’t skimp out, does he?”

“The boss has expensive taste.” Zsasz said, following you in. “Get in the shower.”

You turned and looked at him. “Little privacy might be nice.”

He only stared back.

“Zsasz...?” You gave a little nod towards the door.

“Oh,” he chuckled, laughing to himself as if something had slipped his mind. “Course. Privacy.”

He turned and shut the door, still in the room with you.

You sighed.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Can’t leave you alone in here unattended.” He said, stepping towards you. “You might slip and fall.”

His voice was slightly menacing, in a way that had you almost wondering if he wasn’t going to find a way to kill you and stage your death as an accident. But you were confident in yourself. If he made any funny moves, you could get him before he got you.

Maybe.

“Fine.” You jutted your chin out defiantly. “Then why don’t you make yourself useful and go warm up the water for me while I get out of this robe?”

You expected him to roll his eyes and sneer, but he didn’t. He didn’t even refuse. He just walked right over, slid the glass shower door to the side, and turned the water on. Just like that. Obediently, as if he actually wanted to. You were so dumbfounded by it that by the time he glanced back towards you, you were still standing there, completely dressed.

He looked a bit disappointed.

“Well?” He asked.

“What? Oh.” You untied your fancy little robe and let it fall onto the tiles, still looking straight at him.

You could see his eyes trailing down your body, those dark circles under them giving him a hungry, starved look. When you hooked your thumbs in the sides of your thong and pulled it down, you saw his chest rising and falling as his breaths quickened slightly.

You smirked. Yeah, like Roman had said, Zsasz was harmless. If he had wanted to kill you, he would have by now. He’d already had a dozen chances on the way up to the penthouse.

As you walked toward the shower, he stepped to the side, seeming for a moment as if he was content to let you go in and enjoy the hot water in peace. Of course he wasn’t, though;

This was Victor Zsasz.

“Wait.” He caught your wrist just before you could step in and you were vaguely aware of the blade he flicked open with his other hand. “You need a mark.”

“What?” You stepped back, allowing him to pull you up to him.

“A mark.” He tapped one of the scars on the side of his face with the knife. “For your kill. Where do you want it?”

You weren’t sure what to say. You had never kept track of the lives you took, but...it really wasn’t that bad an idea. Plus, it seemed like Zsasz wasn’t giving you the option to refuse.

Double plus, it was kind of sexy to imagine him carving you up.

“Here.” you finally said, pointing to the center of your chest.

Zsasz grinned, showing off those gold teeth that you loved so much. He kept his grip on your wrist but lowered your arm to your side, his knife pressing against the thin skin above your sternum. His touch was feather light, no doubt thanks to years and years of butchering people, both for Roman and for his own pleasure. He new exactly how hard to press in which areas, an expert in the art of slicing through flesh. The steel of his blade was cool and freshly sharpened, gliding along and drawing an angry, but beautiful, red line as blood oozed up and began running down your torso.

As he dragged the knife down, you let out a hiss of discomfort, pitching forward slightly in pain. He leaned in, his forehead pressing against yours as his blade cut deeper, deeper, nearly down to the bone, and by the time he was finished, you had a four inch long gash ending at the top of your cleavage that was sure to scar marvelously.

You looked down at it in wonder. Zsasz had done it so...beautifully. He made it so important, this new tally mark. And as you gazed at it, you realized you loved it because he made it. Victor Zsasz, one of Gotham City’s most fucked up criminals, had given you a scar. For somebody just as fucked up as him...well, it practically brought tears to your eyes.

Victor didn’t give you a chance to get weepy. He dropped the bloody knife into the spotless white sink, the blade clattering loudly above the sound of the shower. Zsasz moved his thumb to your new cut, pressing it against the wound and then bringing it up to his mouth to lick your blood off.

“Zsasz,” you whispered.

“Victor.” his voice rumbled as he let go of your wrist. “Call me Victor.”

Then his hands were on you, one squeezing your tit while the other grabbed your ass. You gasped in surprise, but his mouth silenced you almost immediately. The kiss was rough, his lips nicked with a few scars, but he was good and you immediately melted against him. He was devouring you, as if he been starved of any attention for years, and maybe he had been. He was hungry for you, insistent, determined, practically begging for more as a low moan rose in his throat.

Your knees were weak, and you had to break the kiss to catch your breath before you collapsed. You wanted more, though, needed to feel more of him, your hands ripping open his nice designer button down. He wasn’t even mad that you had just sent half the buttons flying around the bathroom, because your fingers were already trailing over the scars that covered his chest, then dipping down to run across his hips.

His skin was smooth, wherever it was free of tally marks, and incredibly hot to the touch. While you explored, your lips latched onto his neck, kissing and biting and sucking in a way that he hadn’t anticipated. Zsasz was used to being the demanding one, but he wasn’t about to complain that you were so determined to leave some marks of your own.

Your hands ghosted up over his pecs and then down his abs, and you hummed in appreciation as you felt the neatly groomed hair on his chest. When your hands dipped lower and lower and finally found his belt, he suddenly growled and grabbed your wrists, and your head snapped up to look at him.

“Shower. Now.” he ordered, eyes dark.

You obeyed, slipping away from him and stepping into the shower. You could hear him undressing, and as you sighed happily at the feeling of the warm water on your skin, he came to join you.

The shower was more than big enough for the two of you, but he didn’t want to give you any space. He backed you up against the wall, his lips immediately crashing down on yours as he pushed himself up against you. You could feel his hard on pressing into your thigh and whimpered in anticipation, a shiver going straight down to your pussy.

Fuck.

You wanted him so fucking much.

“V-Victor,” you whispered as he leaned back from the kiss. You couldn’t help rubbing your thighs together, trying to alleviate the ache that was quickly building up.

“I wanna hear you purr for me, kitten.” He rasped, his big, warm hand drifting down to your cunt. He found your clit immediately, teasing it, reveling in every gasp and cry you let out for him.

He wanted nothing more than to get down on his knees and worship you with his mouth, but he could be patient.

“You know, when I saw you there, on the stage...” he said as he drew lazy circles around your clit, “...I couldn’t look away...”

“R-really?” You gasped, arching your back as you sucked in a breath.

“Mhm.” He pressed a finger into you. “So fuckin’ beautiful, the way you carved him up...”

You squealed at his touch, the sound like music to his ears. He liked it even more than the sound of his victims screaming...though he was confident you’d be doing plenty of that, too.

“Never knew such a pretty little birdie like you could do somethin’ like that...” he said, slowly pulling his finger out and then pushing it back in again. “All that blood...”

“I-I’ve killed plenty of times,” you gasped, nails digging into his arms as you clung to him.

“I could tell...you made it look like art...” he suddenly added a second finger, shoving them both in until the rest of his knuckles were pressing against your labia and he had nowhere else to go.

You let out a loud whine, wanting more, needing more. Before you could demand anything of him, though, he was kneeling in front of you, practically reading your mind as he leaned in to replace his fingers with his mouth.

You hadn’t expected him to be so skilled, but then again, you hadn’t really expected any of this to be happening tonight.

He was eating you out as if you were his last meal, as if he hadn’t had food in weeks, as if he was starving. Zsasz was desperate, lapping up all the wetness from your pussy as if it was the only thing keeping him alive, his moans vibrating against your skin. His hair was too short to tangle your fingers in, but you still tried, nails scratching his scalp in a tantalizing way while he gripped your thighs hard enough to leave little red marks behind.

“F-fuck,” you moaned, leaning your head back against the wall and tensing as he sucked on your clit. Little jolts were running through you, sparks that almost felt electric. Your limbs were tingling as your orgasm built, and as it finally spilled over, you found yourself whining and gasping and chanting his name over and over, holding onto him tightly as he licked at you greedily.

Zsasz loved it. He wanted you to need him, and he loved the sounds he could pull from you. He could keep going all night, burying his face between your thighs and worshipping you, but now, he wanted more.

“Turn around.” he said as he stood, licking his lips.

You nodded, still in a daze as you turned and braced yourself against the wall. He grabbed your hip in one hand and his cock in the other, rubbing the head against your swollen, wet pussy. Next time, he would have you suck him off. Maybe he would ask you to wake him up with a blowjob in the morning. But now, tonight, he was hungry to feel you around him, and as he slowly slid into you, he savored every moment of it.

“Fuck,” he groaned, tossing his head back as he buried himself in your heat. “You’re fuckin perfect, kitten...”

You moaned back, the feeling of his thick cock stretching your pussy around it causing you to momentarily forget your words. As he drew out and then snapped his hips forward, you grunted, biting down on your lip as you closed your eyes. He felt incredible, rubbing past all the right spots inside of you as he found a rhythm he liked and began fucking you mercilessly. His hands were grabbing you wherever they could, be it your hips or tits or hair, and as he fell further and further into his desire for you, you could feel his chest brushing over your back as he leaned down.

“You’re such a good girl,” he growled, nipping at your ear. “Who do you belong to?”

“Y-you,” you choked out, trying to turn and look at him. “I-I belong to you, Victor...”

“Good girl.” he snarled, squeezing the side of your ass cheek as hard as he could.

The moan you let out was absolutely filthy, and as your pussy squeezed around him, you felt yourself beginning to come undone once more. He pounded into you and your moans and cries grew louder and louder, a symphony of pleasure as you climaxed, and Zsasz followed soon after, moaning your name in your ear as he filled you up. Your pussy milked him, squeezing every last drop out of his cock, and as he caught his breath, you could feel him pressing lazy kisses against the back of your neck.

“Fuck,” he panted.

You straightened up and he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you against his chest as he refused to let you go. It was quiet for a moment as you both came down from your highs, the sound of the shower the only thing breaking the silence. Finally, he allowed you to turn around, and as you faced him, you saw a surprisingly serene expression on his face.

“Stay with me.” he said. It was less of a request and more of a demand.

“What about Roman?” you asked, legs still quivering.

“The boss’ll understand.”

And that was that.

Zsasz washed the blood off of your skin, insisting that you let him do all the work, and afterwards, he gave you a plush bathrobe to wear. You spent the night in Victor’s bed, and you did wake him up with a surprise blowjob, even without him asking you to. After a round of morning sex, you walked out into the penthouse in your bathrobe to see Roman Sionis already sitting at the table, and for a moment, you froze. You had almost forgotten where you were, and there was your boss, Gotham’s newest and nastiest godfather, spreading some cream cheese on a gourmet bagel.

“Ah,” he said, glancing up as he heard you. “You’re still here.”

“I...uh...”

“Mornin’, boss.” Victor said, walking out behind you. He was fully dressed, looking and acting as if he hadn’t taken home a girl the night before.

“The car is waiting for you.” Roman grunted, far more interested in his breakfast than he was in the conversation. “Be quick about it.”

Zsasz bowed his head and turned to you, holding his hand out expectantly. When you only stared at him, he almost rolled his eyes. “Your house keys, princess.”

“My...what?” you asked. “For what?”

“So I can get your things.”

“What things?”

“You’re moving in.” Roman said dismissively, as if it were obvious.

“...What?”

“You’ve been promoted. Or did you forget?” he asked, giving you a look that suggested he was already tired of your questions. “You’ll be staying here, until you either die, or I fire you, or both. Now, be a dear and give Mr. Zsasz your keys, so that he can get your necessities. I’ll have some new clothes ordered for you this afternoon.”

You stared at him for a moment and then looked at Victor. “They’re in my bag down in the dressing room. But--”

Before you had a chance to finish and tell him that this really wasn’t necessary, he was already gone, calling the elevator so that he could obediently go down to the club and rummage through your purse. You had no doubt that he could get into your locker on his own, and as much as you really didn’t want or need him to go to the effort, you weren’t entirely mad about it. Living with Victor--and Roman--didn’t seem like that bad a deal, and if it meant that you’d get to have more fun with Zsasz, you were all in.

“Well, glad that’s settled.” Roman said, sitting back and wiping the edge of his mouth with a fancy little cloth napkin. “Welcome to the Sionis penthouse, Princess.”

#victor zsasz x reader #victor zsasz #zsasz x reader #birds of prey zsasz #bop zsasz #birds of prey x reader #birds of prey #birds of prey imagine #dc imagines #dc x reader

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kingofkingdom-archive · 4 years ago

Text

Your Wish Is My Command

Pairing: Maxwell Lord (WW84) X Fem!Reader

A/N: Thank you all so much for the love on my last story! I’m grateful for all the feedback and can’t wait to get back to anyone who’s replied or reblogged it or whateva. This one’s pretty different - Recovery was mainly plot with a bit of porn, this is... well, the opposite of that. ;) As always, heed the tags/warnings, and again there is no use of Y/N here.

Rating: Explicit (18+ only!)

Summary: You have a gift - a powerful, unique, dangerous gift, and King Maxwell wants to take full advantage.

You’ll let him.

Warnings: mostly smut, Maxwell being an absolute jackass (no redemption arc here folks), you encouraging and very much liking the jackassery, brief mention of abuse/trauma, greedy authoritarian behavior, kinda spoilers for ww84

Tags: semi-public sex, exhibitionism, royalty kink (?), unprotected sex, implied and/or inferred consent (i.e. not explicit but there), Maxwell’s POV (until very end), fingering, p-in-v sex, come marking

Word Count: 3.4k

"The messenger you requested, reporting back from the northern provinces, sire."

King Maxwell of the house Lord, sitting in the throne gifted to him by birthright, dismisses the servant with a wave of his hand. He's become quite irritated with the futility of his efforts concerning this matter, and therefore has little patience for further delay. The future of his lands, his wealth, his power, rests on the shoulders of these menial workers and the news they provide. It bears no repeating that should they continue to come up empty-handed, someone is going to lose their head.

He needs the girl, and then it will be sealed. He will crush all opposition and assert his dominance over the entire region, coast to coast.

The messenger, a boy no more than 15, scurries into the room. His hair is tousled under his cap, which he hastily removes in the presence of the king. He bows, deeply and with a flourish, before standing upright.

Max watches with disinterest, legs spread over the velvet seat and head resting on his fist. His rings dig into his temple.

"We believe we've found her, sire."

That grabs his attention. He sits forward, both hands gripping the arms of his throne.

"You believe you have? Have you or have you not?"

The boy swallows, growing pale. "We-we have, your majesty. It's just, uh, we-we can't p-p-prove it's her until she demonstrates the gift."

The king groans, rolling his eyes and rubbing a hand over his face. These people are impossible.

"Where is she, then? Have you at least brought her along?"

The boy nods frantically. "Yes, your majesty. She's been quartered in the guest wing, with two guards to watch her."

Immediately, Maxwell stands. Everyone in the room looks up at him, and he adjusts his sleeves. The boy is nearly trembling.

"Well, then take me to her," he orders, and the boy hesitates.

"Now!"

The messenger boy practically trips over his own feet in haste to correct his error. He sets a quick pace to the guest wing in order to account for the king's long strides, head bowed and arms stiff as he does so.

The room is located to the east of that which houses his throne, on the third floor, overlooking the orchards. Maxwell follows the boy, wooden-soled shoes echoing on the gleaming marble floors of his palace. Mirrors line each hallway, along with fine art ranging from rare vases to family portraits.

Maxwell sees the door as soon as they turn a corner, identifiable by the armored men who stand at either side of it. The boy stops and gestures to the door with a shaking hand.

"Just in here, y-"

"I can see that," the king barks, ignoring the boy completely. "You are dismissed."

He hears footsteps retreat quickly down the hall as he checks his appearance in a mirror. Not a hair out of place, not a wrinkled seam in sight. The king sighs, smiling as he admires himself. He takes a moment before turning to the door, the door that hides behind it wealth and prosperity like nothing he's ever known.

The guards simply bow as he approaches them. Maxwell knocks twice on the door and pushes it open.

Inside there is a single room, with a bed and chest of drawers and a vanity. There is a balcony, with glass French doors, through which he can see the shape of a woman standing and looking out over the scenery.

She leans one hip against the stone railing, and as Maxwell walks forward he can see that she holds a goblet of wine in one hand. Her dress flows in the light summer breeze, and her hair is decorated in intricate braids, ribbon laced throughout.

The girl does not see him, yet. He stands in the doorway, hands clasped behind his back, watching her.

"Is it true?" he asks, after he's looked his fill.

The young woman starts, a gasp escaping her lips. She turns to look towards the voice she has heard and startles again, seeing the king himself staring quite intently at her.

"Your majesty," she breathes, a smile ghosting across her lips. She bows deeply and then looks up at him, eyes bright and playful.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, my dear. I've heard many... extraordinary things about you."

Maxwell is immediately taken with her. Not only is she quite beautiful, despite her pauper's clothing, but she is one of few who have not reacted to him with fear or malice. Most begin shaking when they see his face; she, however, seems quite happy to see him.

"Oh, sire, the pleasure is entirely mine," she responds, voice soft, like music to Max's ears. "What things could you have heard about someone as lowly as I?" Her words are humble, but he senses a hint of teasing in them - as though she knows exactly what he's heard, but just wants him to say it.

"You are rumored to possess a very unique skill, one that I am most interested in learning about." He plays along, because her elusiveness frustrates him much less when she's right in front of him.

The king is a very visual man.

He steps forward, fully onto the balcony now. She backs up until her back hits the railing, smile never leaving her face, even as the king crowds into her.

"I possess many skills which I would be happy to demonstrate to you," she says, and Max does not miss the meaning she intends to convey in those words. His eyes darken, his blood running hot at the thought of the many things she could give him. The things he could take from her willingly, without the hassle of a fight.

"It is said that you grant wishes," he murmurs, looking down at her. Max finds he quite likes this view, her looking up to her king. "One must only touch you and state their wish, and it will be so."

The girl chuckles, and daringly takes a sip of her wine. Maxwell grins, before reaching a hand up and grabbing the wine from her grasp. He tosses the liquid out over the ground below and carelessly throws the goblet over the edge to follow its contents.

The girl does not bat an eye.

"What you have heard," she mutters, eyes slipping down to his lips and back up again, "is true."

The king runs his hand up her side, settling at her ribs just beside her breast, savoring the way she shivers at his touch. His fingers splay out over the bare skin of her back, warm and soft and hinting at more.

He dips his head down so that his nose brushes against hers, mouths nearly touching.

"Is there a limit," he breathes, because he knows he must ask this, "to your generosity, my dear?"

The girl smiles, placing a hand on his bicep. Her small fingers feel divine against him, even there.

"No," she whispers back.

Maxwell hums, stroking his thumb idly along her warm, soft skin. He needs to confirm that she's telling the truth, as tempting as it is to believe her outright. The way she's looking at him... she'd let him do anything to her. The thought is as enticing as it is dangerous.

"I wish to find a raven's feather in my shirt pocket," he says, and then feels a slight breeze on the back of his neck.

The king reaches into his pocket, and his fingers brush against exactly the object he wished for. He pulls it out to show the girl. She smiles and runs a hand up to his shoulder, resting her wrist there. His loose linen shirt, which flutters lightly in the wind against his tanned skin, is perfect for a summer's day like this - and when he feels the warmth of her hand through it he thanks his past self for selecting it this morning.

"What a remarkable gift you have," he comments, and tucks the feather behind her ear.

An endearing blush rises to her cheeks, and though she ignores it, the king takes notice. "Thank you, your majesty."

At that moment, an idea forms in his mind. It's devious, downright lecherous and more the act of some tavern drunkard than a king, but she is sure to react well, if he's gauged her correctly.

"You said there's no limit on the wishes you can grant a single person?"

"Yes, sire. I did."

A smirk forms on the king's face. "Then I wish, my dear, for you to be naked."

The wind around them picks up again and the girl gasps. In the blink of an eye, her plain, beige dress has disappeared, leaving nothing behind. She is a vision, bare and beautiful in the midday light like this.

Maxwell is immediately hard. Not only is there a gorgeous, naked woman before him, but his absolute, unlimited power has just been confirmed and lies at his fingertips. He is unstoppable now, now that he has her.

The girl's hands fly up to grasp at his shoulders as his own trace over her curves. Her hips, her waist, her thighs - one of which he brings up to hook around his own hip - all of it is open and shimmering before him.

"They said - in my village, they said you are a monster," she says, though her words trail off into a moan as one of the king's hands finds her breast. He tugs at her nipple, squeezing and pulling at the supple flesh, drawing sweet sounds from her pink mouth.

"Is that so?"

She nods. "I would look at your portraits and - and think... I'd think, no... no man so handsome could be so evil."

The king laughs, dipping his head to lick at her neck. She tosses her head back, giving him full access to the elegant column of her throat.

"And even... even if you are what they said... I don't - I don't care."

Maxwell groans just as she says it, biting a bruise into the junction between her shoulder and neck. He trails bites and kisses down her collarbones, leaving his marks across her unblemished skin.

"I am," he murmurs into her ear, smoothing a hand over her stomach so that his middle finger comes to glide over the thick hair that covers her mound. He dips it into her folds, rubbing softly at the wet, slippery flesh there until she moans, high-pitched and needy. He grins, licking his tongue into the shell of her ear.

"I am a monster, my dear," he whispers. "Every vile thing they said about me is true. And... I wish to fill my personal vaults with triple the gold. I wish to increase my fleets tenfold, with loyal soldiers to match. I wish to never see you leave these palace grounds so long as I live."

The wind picks up considerably around them. The king presses a finger against her opening, hot and dripping for him, and slides it in. Her moans are heavenly, loud and unashamed as he violates her in the open, where anyone could look up and see them. Her cunt opens for his finger, the gold and precious jewels of his rings swallowed by her sweet embrace. Her hands grip at his neck while her leg draws him closer. He adds a second, and it enters just as easily.

The king begins to fuck her with his fingers, watching as the muscles in her stomach tense and her eyes go glassy with the feeling.

"I wish to never be challenged by anyone for the throne," he grunts out. The girl moans at his words, and he realizes that she likes it. Not just the way he's touching her, but that he's making his wishes as he does it. He grins at her, predatory, and cups her ass with the hand not currently knuckle-deep in her pussy. His fingers dig in, sharp and strong and unyielding, surely leaving bruises in their wake.

"You like granting my wishes, darling? You enjoy giving me power, worshipping your king?"

She nods, mouth half-open. "Yes, your majesty." Her voice is breathy, the sound of it nearly knocking him out with the way it draws blood from his brain to his cock.

Speaking of which.

Maxwell thrusts a third finger into her cunt, the stretch made easy by the slick leaking out of her profusely. She wails, hands scrabbling at his neck and shoulders and back and the collar of his shirt.

"Take me out," he orders, and she pauses to look at him, confused. "Take me out of my trousers, my dear. Feel how hard I am for you."

She gasps and her hands fly down to the button at the crotch of his pants. Quickly she fumbles it open, and his hard member pushes up into her palms. The girl gives the king's dick a squeeze, and he grits his teeth, moaning.

"I wish to claim all of the lands in the south as my own. I wish to have loyal subjects in every village and town, that no one may ever defy me again. I wish to have any traitors killed without question."

The girl's moans have increased again as she rubs and caresses his cock. Her hands disappear for a moment as she leans back, licking a long stripe from her wrist to fingertips, and returns to her task.

Maxwell groans, dropping his head forward to press his nose against her skin, breathing in. She smells faintly of lavender, a crop that grows abundantly in the north, sweet and fresh. His tongue darts out to lick away a drop of sweat that rolls down her collarbone. Her hands squeeze and pull at his cock, thumbing at the head and slit and dipping down to fondle his balls on every other stroke.

It feels positively exquisite, but he wants to put his dick to use elsewhere. Somewhere tighter, warmer, wetter.

The king removes his fingers, drawing a whine from the girl. The noise of it is obscene in itself, squelching and sticky as her cunt tries to cling to his fingers and the jewels that adorn them. He chuckles, lifts his head to meet her gaze, and brings his fingers up to his mouth and licks away her essence. She watches, rapt, as he makes sure to get every inch of the three digits that were inside her. The sight of it makes her keen, high pitched noises spilling out of her lips and eyes watering with desperation and need for him.

The king laughs, the taste of her on his tongue. Someday, he swears, he'll taste this sweet nectar straight from the source.

Now is not the time.

He brings his spit-soaked hand down to his red, throbbing cock, giving it a few strokes. His other hand slips up to grasp her waist. The girl lifts her leg further, resting her heel against his ass, helping him to guide his length into her.

"What else do you wish for, my king?" she asks, just as the head of his cock notches at her opening. With a grunt, Max pushes in.

Her words, combined with the feeling of her pussy stretched around his dick, causes his vision to blur and images to flash in his mind of what's now possible with her gift at his disposal. He pushes in further, drawing another moan from deep within her throat.

"I wish... I wish..."

"Your wildest fantasies, my king..." she urges, grip tightening on his neck and shoulder. "Anything is possible. What do you -- oh!"

As her words soak into his skin, he pushes in further and further, until his balls are nestled squarely at her ass. She's pushing him to take, rather than to give, unlike so many who surround him. It breathes fire into his veins, this woman who's encouraging him to do all the selfish, power-hungry things he'd do anyway, all while he fucks into her like this.

The king draws out and pushes back in in one smooth motion, stealing the breath from her lungs. He presses his lips against hers as he speaks, as he sets a rough pace, fucking her into the stone railing.

"I wish to never fall ill or suffer injury in battle. I wish to have the unwavering allegiance of every foreign leader, and that they will defer to me in all international affairs. I wish for my reign to be the longest this nation has ever seen. I wish to live longer than any other man, and I wish to have you here at my disposal for the entirety of my long life. I wish to never succumb to old age."

By now, the wind is tossing her hair and whistling around them, but Maxwell does not care. He's thrusting into her roughly, recklessly now, and all he can hear are her sweet, delicious moans. Her pussy clenches his cock just so, and he sees nearly sees stars at the feeling. Her tits bounce as he fucks into her, her nudity on full display but only to be taken advantage of by him.

Maxwell adjusts his grip on her waist and thigh, maneuvering her around so that now he's taking her from behind. She leans forward on the railing, looking out over the palace grounds.

"Isn't it beautiful, darling?" he breathes, gripping her ass cheeks now, pumping in and out with increased fervor. "Looking out onto your lands, as far as the eye can see..."

She merely responds with moans, punched out of her with each thrust, and Maxwell feels her cunt throb in a way that tells him her orgasm is imminent. He reaches a hand around and searches for her clit, knowing he finds it when she shouts out. He rubs a finger against the sensitive, pulsing nub until she comes apart, writing and screaming on his cock.

Max feels his own climax approaching, and just before he tips over the edge, he withdraws his cock. Taking himself in hand, he strokes a few times and cums directly onto her ass and lower back, marking her up with his potent, royal seed.

Chest heaving, the king runs his hands through his own semen as it cools on the girl's backside. He rubs it into her skin like a masseuse might a fragrant oil.

Maxwell steps back, admiring his conquest. The girl is still leaning against the railing, head bowed and naked as the day she was born.

"I wish for you to be my queen."

The words are a surprise even to him, though he's not shocked at his own impulsivity; that is a trait of his that has followed him from childhood onward.

The girl turns to look at him.

"You have to be touching me for it to work, sire." She doesn't sound angry with him, which is a relief, though he'd never show it.

"I know, my dearest. I wish it, but I won't compel you."

At that she turns to face him fully. She's got that fucked-out look on her face, to be sure, but now there's something else in her eyes.

"Are you asking me to marry you, King Maxwell?" Her smile is sly, something befitting a woman of much higher status than herself. It makes his cock twitch in a valiant effort to get hard again.

"I suppose so."

"In that case, my answer is yes," she says, and pulls him in by his shirt collar for a searing kiss.

The next morning, you wake up sore in an unfamiliar bed.

You look around for a moment, taking in the luxurious decor and faint smell of roses, until you remember where you are. Who you are, now.

Your head rests not on a pillow - something much warmer than that. It rises and falls softly, and then you realize there's a weight around your waist that feels distinctly like an arm. Lifting your head just slightly, you see the king himself asleep above you, face soft and youthful in rest.

As you lay your head down on his chest to fall back asleep, you can't help but think of the people back in your village. The horrors you endured at their hands once they learned of your gift. The nightmares you still have because of what they did.

You think of how much they suffer under the rule of the king - of your husband - and you fall asleep with a smile on your face.

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bosspigeon · 3 years ago

Text

if you're still bleeding

Pairing: Jax/M!Merc

Words: 2657

Summary: Jax should know better. He should know to mind his own damn business. But, unfortunately, he's well beyond "knowing better" now that he's gone and gotten tangled up with an unhinged mercenary with more knives than sense, and the scars that say the chances of him finding any sense are slim to none.

and if you're still bleeding, you're the lucky ones.

'cause most of our feelings, they are dead and they are gone.

we're setting fire to our insides for fun.

collecting pictures from a flood that wrecked our home,

it was a flood that wrecked this home.

- "Youth" by Daughter

CW for: implied/referenced sex, sexual humor/innuendos, references to blood, violence, and trauma, and implications of kink

Knox is a man with scars.

Jax has plenty of his own, of course, but Knox has a lot of scars. There's a story to most of them, too, and he's never shy about telling them. Hell, half the time he tells those stories completely unprompted, whether you want him to or not.

There's a scar on his chin from where Royal told him he couldn't knee slide the entire bar. There’s the ugly knot of scar tissue where his left arm used to be, where the port to his prosthetic is grafted on. There's the scar in his stomach from the mook Jax had to help him bury. There's a scar on his lip where he bit himself too hard with his freakishly sharp teeth trying to keep quiet while Jax bent him over the hood of his car outside Saints and Sinners in the wee hours of the morning.

He's particularly happy to blab the story about that one to anyone who'll listen.

But he doesn't talk about the scar across his throat.

As little clothing as he tends to wear on the day to day, ("As little as I can get away with," he says with a sleazy wink) his neck is always covered. High-collared shirts, a jauntily knotted scarf, decorative chokers and heavy leather collars always keep it covered. He'll flash his tits before he'll show his throat—but in all fairness, it's not really all that hard to get him to flash his tits.

Jax didn't even see the scar until the fourth or fifth inadvisable hate fuck, at which point he was beginning to think he didn't hate the merc quite as much as he thought, considering he kept letting the little bastard in when he showed up at the door out of nowhere—and didn't shoot him when he decided to forgo the door entirely and come in through the window. (Jax still can’t be sure how he even got to the window, seeing as Jax lives in an apartment well above ground level, but he figures he’s better off not asking.) He didn’t think to ask about it until he’d actually lost count of how many inadvisable hate-fucks there’d been, and when they’d progressed somehow from inadvisable hate-fucks to still pretty inadvisable but otherwise amicable casual fucks.

Knox was loose and relaxed, quiet in a way Jax didn't even think was possible when they first met. And, to think, all it took was shoving him face down into the pillows and thoroughly wearing him out. Usually, he rolled out of bed as soon as his legs could hold him again, commandeered Jax's shower, and used half a bottle of his expensive conditioner before he disappeared without so much as a thank you. This time, he stayed. He sprawled gracelessly across Jax's sweat-stained silk sheets, arms stretched over his head, eyes half-closed and his ever-smirking mouth curled into something softer... almost sweeter.

Jax doesn't know what possessed him to roll over, to reach out and touch, but he did. He started at the inner thigh, the bruises he'd left with teeth and then fingers, a rumbling of possessive pride stoking the banked coals of satisfaction in his belly. His knuckles skimmed the soft curve of the merc's belly, the angry red scar tissue of that knife wound, then higher still. Inked into his sternum is a coyote skull, surrounded by boldly outlined flowers that curve along the underside of his breasts. Jax was almost surprised by the softness of the design, especially in comparison to the rest of the merc's ink, like the crude stick-and-poke perforated line and little pair of scissors right above his prosthetic, or the dirty pinup of some generic muscled pretty boy on his bicep, or the peach on his inner thigh that bears an artful addition of a T-dick very much similar to Knox’s own.

He wondered vaguely if the flowers meant anything to Knox.

Before he could dwell on the uncomfortably tender direction his thoughts had taken, his fingers travelled upwards, flicking absently at one of the heavy, angular piercing through Knox's nipples. Knox huffed a rough laugh, watching the progress of Jax's hand through eyes narrowed to dozy, yellow slits.

He traced Knox's collarbone, and his body was all but melted into Jax's bed, soft and pliant. Like he belonged there.

And then Jax’s curiosity got the better of him. He saw the scar, a thin line, pale with age, but standing in stark relief against Knox's tanned skin. It sits at a bit of an angle, slicing across the middle of the merc's throat.

The second his fingers made contact, skimming that raised line of flesh, he knew he'd fucked up.

Knox's body went taut for a split second, and that was all the warning Jax got before Knox was twisting his wrist hard enough for the bones to grind together and snarling in his face like a wild animal. If his knives weren't two rooms away in his discarded pile of clothes, Jax knows he would have lost fingers.

For once, Knox didn't say anything. For once, he was dead silent, mouth a grim sneer, eyes flat and hard. He shoved Jax roughly off him and rolled out of bed. He didn't look back once, stalking out of Jax's bedroom naked, every inch of his compactly muscled body vibrating with tension. Jax heard the rustle of clothes, the jingle of buckles and zippers and a half dozen knives, and then the front door slamming shut.

He didn't see Knox again until Orla called them in for another job, and it was as if nothing had happened. He was his usual smug, annoying self, not a single break in his usual facade of irreverent humor and Napoleonic bravado.

And maybe some of Knox's reckless stupidity is rubbing off on him, because Jax can't shake the curiosity that grips him, even now. He shoves it down, naturally, because he doesn't want the batshit merc to get twitchy on him again when he's got enough knives on him at any given time to outfit a military squadron. Hell, for all Jax knows, that's the end of it. He's not going to go crawling back to Knox (even if the sex is really fucking good—it's always the crazy ones, isn’t it?) and he knows Knox won't come to him first.

Except he does, dragging Jax into one of the back rooms after a meeting with Orla, shoving him against the wall, and dropping to his knees. Things go right back to normal after that, or as normal as they ever are with Coyote Fucking Knox. And as normal as they can be once Orla oh-so-sweetly reminds him there are cameras in the back rooms, and if he doesn't want stills of his dick forwarded to the entire Mirage gang, he'll keep his and Knox's exhibitionism where she doesn't have to see it.

So Knox continues to invade Jax's privacy, steal petty shit from his apartment and/or pockets, and loudly demand that Jax fuck him hoarse (-er) if he wants him to shut up.

And he winds up tangled in Jax's sheets again, sprawled out on his belly with one leg tossed over Jax's thigh, his face smashed into a pillow, one smug yellow eye watching Jax try to catch his breath beside him.

He could let it be. It's not like this is anything but a convenience. Some fun between… well, they're definitely not friends. Coworkers, if anything, and even that's pushing it. For a while, Jax considered it a fair trade for dealing with Knox's bullshit constantly. Now, it's becoming a pattern, and when it comes to semi-regular sex with a stab-happy mercenary, patterns can be dangerous.

But he can't kill the curiosity.

He figures his best bet is being blunt. And maybe getting ready to dodge in the very likely event things go south. He doesn't touch this time, at least not where they aren't already, Knox’s knee between his legs, the skin feeling a bit feverish and clammy as the sweat cools. The urge to touch is still there—he left some nice bite marks on Knox's shoulders he'd like to reacquaint himself with—but he ignores it for now. He rolls onto his side, meets that one yellow eye with quiet consideration, and props his head up on his hand.

Knox must read the change in his face, because he goes from cat-got-the-cream contentment to a warily curious tension. Jax just goes right for the throat, so to speak. “Any chance of hearing the story behind that one?” he says, casual as anything, and nods in the vague direction of Knox’s neck.

There’s a growling noise building up behind Knox’s teeth, but he bites it back. He smiles, but it feels feral, like an animal baring its teeth looks like a smile, but it's really a threat. It looks brittle, like it'll shatter if he tightens his jaw any further.

Jax gives in to the urge, reaching out to touch, fingertips skimming down the mercenary's spine. A shiver ripples across the skin. He’s not sure if it’s the right move, but at this point, if you’re going to Hell...

“I don’t know,” Knox says flatly, and Jax is almost shocked he answered at all. There’s no inflection, no mirth. Just that broken-glass smile.

Jax snorts. Knox never fucking shuts up, that much is true, but Jax isn’t stupid. He knows when someone’s talking a lot and saying nothing of importance on purpose, and he also knows when Knox can’t deflect, he lies his ass off like he was born to do it. Even Orla barely knows anything about her least favorite favorite merc or where he came from, though the chances of her caring enough to even try to find out are slim to none. Still, he has no idea what the mercenary even has to gain from lying, especially here. "If you don't want to say anything, just tell me to fuck off."

The knife edge smile stretches wider. Tips closer to the breaking point. "Fuck off," he echoes like a parrot.

Something starts to uncurl in Jax's gut, something burbling and acidic, a nasty niggling feeling he can't quite name. "You're serious," he says, and he doesn't want to believe it, mostly because he can't imagine someone like Knox taking that sort of… personal unknown well. “Nothing?”

The smile cracks, and Knox lifts his head so Jax gets the full effect of it. His eyes are wide, wild, and suddenly that smile is too big for his face. Slowly, he sits up, and there's the scar. Old and faded, but splitting his throat neatly and boldly from east to west. He drags his thumb across it, digs it in hard enough the white scar tissue goes a bit pink. He laughs. He's never had a pleasant laugh, rough and raspy and mean. Somehow, this one is worse. “Not a lick,” he drawls, and the effort it takes him to sound so casual almost makes Jax cringe. “There’s a reason Orla found me in the fuckin’ bargain bin.” He taps his temple, his messily painted nail clicking against the chip in his head.

Jax’s eyes flick down to the scar, frowning deeply. It doesn’t make sense. Knox is deflecting again, he has to be, but there’s something in the way he’s holding himself, the tension radiating from him, the way he slumps against the headboard of Jax’s bed with his knees pulled up, not quite close enough to hug to his chest, but more like he’s thinking about it, resisting the urge to physically hold himself together and risk looking weak.

"I have nightmares, sometimes," he admits, so soft the syllables catch on the rough edges of his ragged voice. "They never make any fucking sense. I'm just… I'm choking. Something’s cutting into my neck, and there’s someone behind me, and I know them, but— But I'm guilty? I don't know for what." He laughs, bitterly brittle. "Could be fucking anything. Got a lot to be guilty for that I can remember, never mind what I can't."

He inhales, and it sounds like it hurts him, like his breath is made of shards of glass. He drags his hand down his face until he can curl his fingers around his throat so the scar doesn't show. "I just know there's this perfume Orla wears that makes me want to climb the fucking walls and I don't know why. I think I know how to play the piano, but I can’t even look at one without wanting to smash it to pieces. Sometimes I hear some… some fucking opera song, or some shit? And I know the words, and I want to sing along, but then my voice just—just cracks, and I feel like… like a broken fucking wind-up toy? It's like my head doesn't remember anything, but the rest of me does and it makes me so fucking angry. What am I missing? Why does it matter?” His voice hitches dangerously, and there’s a stab of panic in Jax’s belly, his hands twitching like they want to—to reach out? “Why can’t it just leave me the fuck alone?"

Knox squeezes his own throat so hard the skin dimples around his fingers and bleeds white where he’s cutting off bloodflow. His shoulders tremble. There's something in the furrow of his brow, the twist of his mouth, that says angry isn't the only thing it makes him, but he either doesn't have the words to say it, or he just won't, not even to himself.

The silence falls again. Jax always thought he preferred silence where Knox was concerned. Turns out he was wrong. This silence is brutal, heavy and choking and just… wrong. When Knox does see fit to break it, it's with a loud exhale that almost makes Jax start.

"Would you look at the time," the merc says loudly, shaking out his bare wrist and looking at it critically. Jax could almost laugh. Knox tosses his legs over the edge of the bed smiling crookedly over his shoulder. "I should really head out, huh? Don't wanna overstay my welcome."

Before he can think, Jax snaps a hand out and catches Knox’s hip, squeezing. Not enough to stop him if he really wants to go, but enough to give him pause. Once again, Jax counts himself lucky they rarely make it to the bedroom before one or both of them are naked, which means all those knives are somewhere by the door, or scattered across his coffee table, or in the leather jacket tossed over the back of his couch. Coyote turns slightly, just enough to eyeball him. Just one yellow eye.

There's a lot Jax could say, a lot he even wants to, but there's something raw in that one yellow eye, something wary and broken that just wants to hide somewhere quiet and lick its wounds. They've been at this for way too fucking long at this point, Jax should know what to do with that, shouldn't he?

Maybe he does.

He snorts. "When the fuck have you ever cared about overstaying your welcome?" He smacks Knox's hip just on the wrong side of gentle, and rolls over. "You're not leaving until you help me change these sheets. Hell, maybe if I'm feeling generous, I'll let you back in bed after we shower."

He pushes up to his feet and stretches out the kinks in his muscles, allowing himself to luxuriate in the pleasant soreness leftover from their romp. Knox is quiet behind him, and he can't really think of when he actually started to trust the crazy bastard enough to turn his back to him.

Knox makes a rough little sound, something not quite a laugh. "Is that an order, Sir?" he asks, low and raspy-sweet.

Jax glances back with a raised eyebrow. "Do I need to make it one?"

#remember you will die #rywd #vapolis #rywd jax #rywd fanfic #rywd merc #pidge writes #oc: coyote knox #idk take the warnings into account for ur own comfort #this is more about the vulnerability and the tenderness between two deeply emotionally stunted idiots #anyway i have been picking at this on my bus rides to/from work for the last week #and performing narrative surgery to fix a screwup (bc i cant read apparently gfhdjg) proved to be a solid warmup #for diving into those comms #so uh #here we go!#enjoy i guess!

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