#biting my nails gnashing my teeth

[rubywingsracing]

As a McLaren fan I’m simultaneously astronomically delulu abt FP tn and shitting my pants so hard cuz ik im delulu

[the-californicationist]

Hello🐻❤

Military!Biker!Price ?

I mean... Repaired a motorcycle, ride a biker

I love you Cali ❤🫂

I love you too @leixy and I’m so sorry for the wait!! Hope you enjoy the story 🩷🩷

MDNI

Storm Chaser

The rumble that you heard just outside of your garage may have been mistaken for thunder. The skies were gray, and as they rolled across the firmament, you knew they’d linger, soaking the ground and making the soil black with its fallen waters. But, this wasn’t a thundercall. This was a Triumph. 

A giant, hulking man, laden with muscle and black leather gear, rolled into your mechanic shop’s driveway on a blacked out, stealthy Triumph Storm GT. Its rider’s face was covered in a full helmet, and as he slowed to a stop, his heavy boot dug into the shale, catching the center of the bike and sitting up straight, killing the enormous engine.

He looked at you. You knew he was looking at you because there was no one else to look at. You saw yourself in the black mirror of his visor, and all around you were the empty fields surrounding your shop, the tall grass roiling in the wind. 

The gloves came off first, and you indulged in his hands. They seemed monstrous; a thin dusting of dark hair covered his skin, and each finger looked like it might have been wider than two of your own. His nails were clean, which surprised you for some reason, and there was a nasty scar along his right palm. 

He fiddled with his helmet, unlatching the buckle, and then yanked it over his head. 

Shit. You cursed inside of your mind. He’s hot as hell.

You’d been drooling over the bike, but the man sweetened the deal. He was ruggedly handsome, and his movements were so easy. It was like being in the presence of a magician, as if he knew all the secrets and delighted in hiding them from you. He was so certain, so sure of his tricks, and you waited on him to break the spell he’d put on you. 

“Alright, love? How’s it goin’?”

He held out his hand for you to shake, and it warmed you like a fire. His grip was firm but careful, and he let you go without a shake. You smiled,

“All good. Slow day,” you pointed upwards, “No one but you out in this weather.”

He chuckled, and you fell for him even harder. His mirth was contagious. He looked up at the darkening sky and told you,

“Aye, it was pourin’ cats and dogs a few minutes ago. Chasin’ me here, I’ll wager. Thought I’d wait it out here. Maybe get the service I’m due for.”

“This bike’s brand new,” you scoffed, “How did you put ten thousand miles on it already?”

He gave you a half-grin and admitted with a shrug,

“I like to get away.” 

You nodded, and he dismounted, unzipping his jacket for comfort. You gave the bike a once-over, checking for any signs of trouble. As new as it was, you’d already been trained on it, so you felt confident you could help him. You mentioned your plan,

“Oil, brake pads, filters. Check your sensors. My Triumph cert is up to date, so we’ll just clean her up by the book. How does that sound, mister…?”

“Price. John Price. Sounds class, love.”

“Waiting room just in there, John,” you pointed over to the tiny little sitting room you’d added to the garage, “Got a library and some coffee. Should be fresh. Just made a new pot a few minutes ago.”

“Cheers,” he smiled, and it was the most handsome one you’d seen in a while. His full lips stretched into his cheeks, and his tanned skin crinkled up to his eyes. 

The eyes themselves were a problem. They were a hue of blue you’d never seen, and they pinned you down like a wild animal, a hunter and his prey. But, all of that ferality was tied taut, held by a rope in his clenched fist, and his gnashing hungry teeth were kept from biting you, controlled by his tight-laced civility. All of that chivalry made you wonder what he was like when he was allowed a little freedom. 

As he walked away from you, you ogled him. You weren’t even ashamed to do it. He was everything you wanted in a man. Him and his bike oozed a primal sort of power that you’d been craving, and you wanted a taste of that freedom. 

His bike was his escape, that was for sure. Ten thousand mile service after only a few months of ownership was impressive. This man liked to ride long and often. There was plenty of evidence of wear and tear, but as rough as he had been with his ride, there was evidence of his love as well. The clean body, the mended tailpipe, evidence of a scuff polished away; it was all proof of his affection.

The service was easy and quick. As you were checking his sensors and finishing up the job, the first pitter patter of rain began to fall into the gravel drive. In the beginning, it was soft and sweet, just a few drops here and there. Then, over the short span of mere moments, it came down in a torrential pour, slamming itself into the ground and pummeling the pavement. 

You watched it slip and slide off of your metal roof in sheets, and you got close enough to the edge so that you could feel the cool spray from the downpour, a few droplets spitting onto your nose and cheeks. A bright blue bolt of lightning streaked across the cloudy pall, followed by a deafening roar of thunder that resonated in the hollow of your chest. 

Cleaning the oil from your hands as best you could, you went to deliver the bill to your customer. To your sick delight, he’d be trapped with you at least until the storm passed, and you crossed your fingers that he could do with a bit of company. 

He was sitting on the wide couch in the waiting room, his hands prying open a book. When you looked at the spine, you noticed that he was deep into the first few chapters of Moby Dick.

“Having fun yet, John?”

“Enjoying the rain on this tin roof of yours. Makes me want to kip down here on your sofa. Love to fall asleep listenin’ to the storm.”

“Me, too,” you admit, nodding towards the book, “Has he caught the whale yet?”

John shook his head,

“No, we barely got out of the harbor. You work fast. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me though, love. I don’t fancy a ride out in this mess.”

“No problem. Take all the time you need.”

“D’ya mind?” He dug around in his jacket and pulled out a short, fat cigar. 

You waved him on, motioning that it was alright with you, and he happily lit his stick, working an ambery, glowing tip until fiery smoke spilled from the end. You were about to turn and hide somewhere else, anywhere that you wouldn’t need to smell his burnt, woodsy scent. It was making you hungry for a puff of his cigar and a long lick of the inside of his mouth. 

A little self-control please… You begged yourself. 

He caught you as you started to leave, and the feeling of his hand on his surprised you with its warm sincerity. You looked down at him, but you didn’t pull away. 

“Stay… for a bit. I was just gettin’ to the good part,” he said with a sly smile, holding up the book as if to offer it to you. 

“Alright,” you replied, your voice sounding too small and too quiet in the small space. 

You sat next to him, worrying over your oil-stained nails as he read aloud to you, pausing every now and then to smoke his cigar or to turn his pages. Slowly, you started to relax, and as you leaned back into the couch, the sound of his voice and the drumming of the rain blended together into a soporific haze. You caught yourself looking at him — staring at him — with hooded eyes, studying the way his lips and tongue and teeth formed his words. The dark bristles of his beard giving you a clear view of every micro-movement of his face. 

He was looking at you, now, too. Staring at you. Every now and then, he’d glance back at the book, read a few lines, and then take a long pause to smoke and to meet your gaze. 

Suddenly, he seemed to make a conscious choice. He sat forward, and his huge shoulders cast a shadow over you. He held out his cigar and asked, 

“Fancy a smoke?”

You didn’t reply, but you took it from him ever so slowly, as if he might bite, and put the end in your mouth. You sucked in the smoke to taste the rich tobacco, and you let it roll around in your mouth before releasing it, letting it hit him in the chest and neck, billowing around his stoney jawline. 

Then, he said something to you in a new voice. It was one you knew, but you hadn’t heard it in a very long time. It was desire,

“Pretty little thing, aren’t you, love?”

You let his compliment wash over you like the downpour outside. It soaked through, right to your bones. You took another drag from the cigar, earning yourself a deeper chuckle and a pleased, approving grin.

“You should see me when I’m out of these coveralls,” you quipped, certain that your smudged cheeks were now a rosy shade of crimson. 

He took the cigar back from you and put the book down, leaning closer to you, positioning his knee between yours, forcing you to spread your legs. He smoked, filling the space between you, taking another drag for himself, breathing in and breathing out, trying to test the waters,

“Care to show me now?”

You met his smoldering gaze. The tip of his cigar had nothing on the glow from behind his eyes. He was poised and ready to pounce, a lion on a lamb. 

You didn’t answer him. You simply watched as he unzipped your work coveralls and let the sleeves slink down your arms. You pulled them free, revealing what was underneath. You were braless, letting your heavy tits lay unbound in the soft fabric of your ribbed tank, preferring comfort over fashion. 

His hand came up to cup your cheek, rubbing some of the smudged oil with his thumb. He leaned forward even further, breathing heavily with you, panting like he had run for miles, all for the sole purpose of brushing your sensitive bottom lip with his own, teasing you with your own taste, hungry for your body and ready to consume you in every way he knew how. 

He began to kiss you slowly, languidly, as if you were both trapped in some world of slow motion where time need not exist. You need not be bothered with the past or the future. The present was enough, and it stretched between you forever. Each kiss deeper than the last, each touch more sensual, making your breath catch in your chest. 

John pulled away from you, slowly untangling himself, looking at you as if he had been keeping some smoldering question inside of his chest. He moved so slowly, telegraphing his motions so you would know his intent. Rapt, you watched his hand drop to the hem of your tank, his thick fingers dancing along the seam, carefully pulling it away so that his warm hand could slide underneath. 

Your whole body shuddered as his palm spread across your soft belly. His callused hands were rough against your skin, and the way he grabbed at you, greedy yet slow and savoring, made you feel like he had hypnotized you. You were frozen in place, submitting to his desire. 

He looked up into your eyes, checking with you to see if you would allow him to venture further and then moving further anyway, unable to quell his lurid hunger. His fingers found the swell of your breast, the heavy flesh hanging like ripe, sweet fruit, ready to be tasted. A thumb slipped across your nipple, encouraging it to tighten into a little peak, just plump enough to fit into his wet mouth. 

Without lifting your shirt off of you, he bent his head and suckled on your taut nipple through its fabric. He wet the cloth and your skin, and when he pulled his mouth away, the dampness lingered, teasing you with the memory and lingering on you, chilling your flesh. Another swipe of his thumb and you heard yourself let out quiet little mewls, whining and needy. His immediate, chuffed grin made you blush with shame. 

So, you took your revenge. You reached your hand across the supple leather of his riding pants and found the tip of his fat cock hanging trapped and turgid halfway down his muscular thigh. You used your finger to draw tiny circles around his head, knowing he could feel it. To your satisfaction, his eyes fluttered closed, lost in the sensation. 

Then, his hands plundered under your top, scrunching the fabric up to your collar, revealing your skin to him. As you messaged his heavy cock, you watched him sigh as he admired your curves, drinking you in like a desert palm, his hard root stretching towards its oasis. 

“Take me out, love. Please,” he begged you softly, kissing you between his gentle whispering words, and you knew what he wanted. 

You yanked at his button to pop it off, and you pinched at the zipper, listening to the metallic whir of its teeth as you freed him. 

He wasn’t wearing anything under his leathers, which drove you wild. He must have been so sensitive during his ride, feeling every bit of the garment’s texture and folds as he straddled his machine. 

You reached for him and he let out a dark groan. His voice became threatening all at once, and he grabbed at you with all of his might, drawing your attention with his words,

“Both hands… ungh, ahh, please. Please touch me with both of your hands, love.”

There was plenty of his length for you to comply, and even with both of your hands, his swollen, rigid girth was still a challenge to manage. You focused on his head, watching as his whole body responded to your touch.

John pulled you in for another kiss, forcing his tongue down your throat, filling your mouth with his heat, crushing you to his chest, abandoning all of his earlier tenderness in favor of lustful fury. 

As he ravaged your mouth, you felt his cock slipping through your hands on its own and you realized that he was using his hips to thrust himself through your grip. You tried to help him, matching his pace, but that only spurred on his carnal want. 

He was moaning into your mouth, and you could feel the hum of his joy against your lips. With each shameless thrust, he cried for you in that dark brimstone timbre, aching and full of longing. 

“John…” you whispered, breaking away to catch your breath, saying his name like a prayer. 

Adding to the drama, a long peal of thunder shattered the sky, killing the lights in your shop. But, you were both so worked up by one another, the shock of a blown fuse paled in comparison, and your eyes stayed locked on each other’s, bound together, unable to look away. Unwilling. 

But, he paused, staring at you, wanting something from you, something more. 

You gasped when he lifted you, rumpled clothes and all, right off the couch. He shouldered the door to the tiny room and walked quickly to his bike sitting you sideways on the seat. You braced yourself with one hand on the tank and one on the tail, waiting for his next whim. 

He was working on your clothes, peeling off your coveralls and shucking off your layers until he found your panties. When he saw the fabric, he paused. You fretted for a moment until you felt the cool, stormy wind blow across the damp gusset. Then, you knew what he was looking at. You were soaking through your panties, and there he was, transfixed on the darkening stain. 

“Wanna taste you, love. Want you in my mouth…” 

John fell to his knees in a flash, his cock still free and flagging up and down, wet with his precome. You squirmed a bit, unsure of your scent and your sweat from your earlier work. 

Those gentle eyes had been replaced with a sinister warning. He pinned you with them as if to say, move away and I’ll bloody drag you back. 

He didn’t bother to kiss the softness of your belly nor your thighs. He wanted one thing, but you didn’t expect him to take you quite like this. He didn’t peel down your panties, instead eating you right through the thin cotton, sucking on the wet cloth and making lewd squelching noises, lapping his tongue over your soaking lips and sucking at your flavor with his eager lips.

“Oh, shit…” You lamented, feeling your body go slack, submitting to him and his power. 

“Fuck…” He said between bites of his meal, “You’re so sweet… Let me… ungh, fuckin’ hell…”

He used his thumb to tug the fabric aside, revealing your gleaming pink flesh. And when he tasted you, skin on skin, John became obsessed. He was pushing his strong jaw so hard into you, working you with his mouth, making you rake your fingers through his hair just to hold onto something, you were afraid the bike might tip. 

In one ruthless motion, he tore your panties from you, ripping the sides and tucking the ruined fabric into his fist. Then, he put that same hand on his cock and began to jerk himself off, rubbing your wet cloth all over his cockhead. 

With his free hand, he grabbed the handlebar of the bike, pulling it down towards him, preventing it from falling, now able to eat you with as much reckless abandon as he liked. 

His mouth moved in long, deep thrusts, fucking you with his scruffy face, suckling at the hardening body of your clit. His tongue pressed into your swollen lips, moving between them with forceful need. As he licked you, he moved lower and lower towards your wet hole, hoping to thrust his writhing muscle inside of you, wanting nothing more than to lick you dry. 

Finally, he reached it, and the tip of his tongue slipped into your pussy, pressing through your slit and fucking you like his cock wanted to. You heard him elicit a gravelly, smoldering whine when he tasted your smooth center, and you watched as his eyes rolled back in his head, his brow furrowing in disbelief. 

Meanwhile, the rain pounded in the open garage doorway, swirling and spitting under its ebon shroud. John cared very little about it, nor did he care that you and he were nearly naked, in full view of the street. The idea that anyone could drive up and see you there, caught in his jaws, made you lose control. 

You tried to hold your voice down, but once he felt you start to come, he did everything he could to set you ablaze. His hand abandoned the handlebar, preferring instead to sink two of his large fingers inside of you, working with his tongue to stretch you open, giving him more of your ripeness to devour. 

You keened like you were on fire, and maybe you were. You thought, as the flames licked up your legs and down your arms, that maybe you would burn right up. Maybe you were a flare, ready to sear a bright scorching light through his mouth, burning his throat like whiskey, brutal and cruel. 

Your whole body had given in to the feeling as if you were an orchestra at the mercy of its conductor. If he wanted your kindling to catch, it would, and you would burn for him. You were his opus, trapped in a perpetual crescendo of his lust, an expression of his own fiery fate. 

His mouth only left your body to cry out in his own right, growling out a breathless groan as he spilled his come into your panties, smearing his cock through his own emission and mixing it with yours. 

Unable to maintain your balance, and unwilling to jeopardize his bike, you sank to the floor with him, feeling the cold concrete on your shins. John tugged you into his lap, panting into your neck, smelling strongly of your scent, his face and beard shining with it. 

You breathed together, fondling what you could reach, cradling each other as if you’d found one another again after years apart. Penelope clutching at her Odysseus, recognizing him through a sea of lesser men. 

“You alright, love?” John asked, still catching his breath, petting your cheek absentmindedly. 

You nodded, affirming your well-being,

“Mmhm. You?”

“Aye,” he smiled, laughing quietly to himself, “But, now you’ve gone and done it.”

“What?” You smiled, enjoying his joy. 

“Didn’t think runnin’ from the rain would be such a fuckin’ good time. Now, when it rains, I’ll be craving you.”

You smiled at him, letting him kiss your neck and cheek, planting his affection like little promises, deep under your skin. 

“You’re always welcome back, rain or shine.”

“How about tonight at six; dinner at my flat?” He looked up at you, hopeful. 

“As long as I get to ride this bike, it’s a date,” you teased. 

He raised his eyebrows at your challenge, and then he gave you a lascivious grin,

“Don’t worry, love. I’ve got just the ride in mind.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Reblogs and comments are much appreciated!

AO3 Link

[delicious-in-imagines]

Sitting down for a meal with Chilchuck, Kabru, and Senshi? 👀

Your wish is my command! (Also, yay! My first request!)

Chilchuck Tims

Traveling with him inside of dungeons along with the rest of the Laios crew means, you guessed it: monster parts.

As much as he gnashes his teeth about some of the things that they eat, he's always gonna take a bite before you.

Like, will swat your spoon/fork out of your hand if you try to taste it before he does.

He doesn't know what's gonna happen! So, he'd rather eat it first before you.

On rare occasions, if he's really against what you guys are eating, and you take the first bite, he'll begrudgingly follow your lead, more often than not being pleasantly surprised.

He'll take your cutlery and plate/bowl from you to clean it, even if he isn't the one on dish duty for that meal.

If you guys are outside of the dungeon however, he likes to take you out on nice dinners.

(He's definitely not trying to make up for being a less than stellar husband, wdym?)

If you're eager to try something new, he'll also indulge with you, but he's not above ordering the classics just to be safe.

More often than not, dinner is chased with a nice bottle of wine between the two of you. Of course he's gonna share!

He can drink most of the bottle and feel fine afterwards, so usually he's relegated to corralling you home at the end of the night, trying to keep you out of trouble.

Kabru of Utaya

Travelling with Kabru's party usually means pretty standard rations inside of the dungeon.

Kabru is always looking to pick up on small details, and will usually take what you don't like and offer you whatever of his that you like instead!

If he's divying up portions for everyone, he keeps this in mind - and usually serves you first, which Mickbell usually heckles him about. (He means well.)

Will check up on you throughout the meal, seeing how you're feeling after the day in the dungeon, knowing that it can be pretty rough on people's bodies and their energy.

Depending on how you feel, he may offer up the last bit of his food to you - think of it as a little pick me up!

Outside of dungeons, he likes to take you to places you mention to him in passing, whether thats a quaint little hole in the wall, or a well known bakery that you always sigh longingly about when you smell their pastries.

He's the kind of guy that could absolutely order for you and nail it every time, even down to the small modifications. Same goes for when you wanna try something new; he always manages to pick something that you end up really liking.

He'll imbibe on occasion, especially after a successful dungeon crawl - but that's usually with the rest of the party in tow. Otherwise, he'll settle for something mild if he's just spending time with you.

Senshi of Izganda

Just like with the others, he's very particular about making sure that you have a balanced diet!

If there's anything you dislike, he tries different applications or styles to try and see if you'll like it some other way. If you don't, he doesn't fault you! There's even some stuff that he's not super fond of either.

He likes to have you help out with the golems on occasion, asking what the two of you should plant for the next time you get to harvest them!

On occasion, he likes to make something that maybe isn't completion nutritious, just to watch the way your face lights up - he just can't help but spoil you sometimes!

Instead of going out to eat, he likes to go for a walk through the marketplace with you to pick out something to cook together!

He'll usually insist on picking the cut of meat if you eat meat, though he'll check what kind of protein you're thinking about for dinner.

Otherwise, he leaves it up to you, enjoying the challenge of making something out of random ingredients that you may throw his way!

I honestly don't see him as a super huge drinker, so like Kabru, he may indulge with you in something pretty mild, maybe a cider if he's feeling like it will pair well with the meal.

[rippersz]

𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒕

✩*⢄⢁✧ --------- ✧⡈⡠*✩

✩*⢄⢁✧ --------- ✧⡈⡠*✩

A Larissa Weems x F!Reader oneshot (for now) - Normie Reader experiences a very sudden heat for whatever reason and oh good lord Larissa is just so hot how can anyone expect you to work under these conditions… (NSFW: Vulgar, Breeding Kink, Shapeshifting Advantages, All that Jazz) (Larissa is just mentioned/imagined in this.) Am I sorry? Meh.

✩*⢄⢁✧ --------- ✧⡈⡠*✩

There was just something in her that lit something in you.

A fire the likes of which you’d never encountered before. As though a flame was constantly flicked on beneath your heart, causing it to race, causing it to pound, causing it to bring the blood from your limbs up to your cheeks; painting you in a deep blush. Making you dizzy. Making you ache. Making you feel a type of delicious never-ending burn that seemed to spark the very moment you saw her.

Her.

Oh, her.

The same woman that made you realize that you wanted to become heavily acquainted with Lust and all of the friendly benefits it could offer. The very catalyst to your panic and your flush and the shake in your hands as you pressed yourself up against the wall of your shower and imagined it was her doing it instead. Oh how her hands would feel… how her touch would mold… how her teeth would graze and nibble and bite and gnash in ways that sent you spiraling. The muscles in her biceps flexing as she interlocked your hands and forced your arms up over your head, holding you to the chilled tile, making you shiver even if the water was hot.

It felt like the word ‘Please’ was on the very tip of your tongue whenever you passed her in the hall. ‘Please,’ you wanted to murmur to her one day, ‘Please, put me out of my misery and ruin me before I explode.’ Because that’s what it felt like, didn’t it? The strange pull in your bones, crawling up through your veins, invading your mind, it felt like you were being stretched taut and that no amount of self-assured pleasure could help release your tormented body. Explosion, at that point then, was imminent. And dangerous. You could barely concentrate on classes; you could barely pay attention to another person; you could barely think about anything other than her fingers… and her tongue… and those deep bottomless sapphire eyes - staring straight into your soul as you fell apart beneath her.

Some part of you told you that you were going through heat. That the very desperate natural human basic need for pleasure was just that - something a person experienced from time to time. Something that werewolves and cats and animals felt whenever that season came around. But you were a ‘normie’. You’d never felt that before… until Larissa Weems, of course. Until you sat down in a staff meeting one day and peered down at her painted nails and long tapered fingers and delicate hands, woven with blue veins and a wicked strength you’d never seen, and wondered what her index and middle finger would taste like when resting on your tongue. The thought still brought redness to your cheeks and drool to the inside of your mouth. It was just so terribly depraved. So desperate. So needy in a way that you wanted her to say- to tell you- to whisper in your ear while you whimpered into the warm skin of her shoulder.

‘Look at you… such a silly little thing… trembling all for me…’

All for you. All for her. All for Larissa, at all times, no matter what.

You knew that people were starting to worry about you and your actions - especially Larissa herself. She was your boss after all, she was supposed to pick up on any behavioral changes, and you had definitely changed. Without even knowing, you became far more introverted and spent more time alone than you ever had before. Though then again, most of that time was dedicated to taking care of the relentless throb between your thighs. Honestly, sometimes it got so strong that it interrupted your entire day and you had to find some way to ease the strange pangs before they got out of hand.

And you’d been doing a good job. Really, you had. You’d been taking the necessary moments to rid yourself of the feeling for at least a few hours before it came back - and that was enough. It was enough.

Until it wasn’t.

Until it began to hurt.

Until you realized that yes, indeed, you were somehow going through heat - and there was no one there to help you with it.

–

‘Good morning Larissa,

I just wanted to email you with a quick update and say that I, unfortunately, have fallen quite ill. I don’t think I’m equipped enough to handle my classes, and I’m very sorry for the inconvenience. Knowing this would get worse, I already printed out lesson plans and activities for my students. They’re all on my desk in my classroom.

Thank you - hopefully I get over this soon.

Y/N’

A quick email. That was good. You didn’t specify timing but that was fine. Your ‘heat’, for lack of a better word, had already been happening for about three weeks. If you were correct in your research, it wouldn’t be too much longer - perhaps a week or so more. Though in the long run, it would be a bigger pain in the ass than you expected. Already, your room smelled of sex and was so stuffy that you had to keep a window open constantly. And to get rid of the scent, you resorted to wall plug-ins and incense; they were the best you could think of on the fly. The rest of the issue - such as the air being far too hot - could only be remedied with a lack of clothing and many cold showers.

You supposed that was the best blessing during your time of strife- having an ensuite all to yourself. Staff were given the option to live on campus or live near Jericho, but you decided that ease of access was more important than living utterly alone. And, another plus that allowed you to let out a sigh of relief from time to time, was the fact that the teacher’s wing was very far from the students’. So any of the werewolves that wandered the halls wouldn’t smell you - as long as you stayed in your room. Thus, the email. And the isolation. And the constant worry that often came as an after-thought during your moments of… reprieve.

Even then, you truly felt you were going mad.

Tears often leaked from the corners of your eyes at night when you twisted around in bed, trying (and failing) to keep your hands from wandering about your body. You’d never experienced the phrase ‘instinctive’ to such an extent until that span of time where your searching fingers tip-tapped their way down the soft skin of your rounded tummy and found themselves drawing circles around your clit without thinking. Because it was all done without thinking. Even thinking was done without thinking.

Most of the time, your head was filled with thoughts of your boss. It was always Larissa. It was always Larissa and it was always her tall figure dwarfing your own, pushing you into a state of submission that you wanted to fall into anyway. She wouldn’t even have to try very hard - she wouldn’t even have to bend you over her lap and spank you red unless you came without her permission and she wouldn’t even- she-

‘Y/N,

I’m very sorry to hear you’ve fallen ill; please don’t worry about your classes as I can provide a substitute immediately. That being said, take as much time as you need to recover. I’ll stop by later today to chat briefly about the form you can fill out for an extended absence. Thank you for letting me know and I sincerely hope you feel better soon.

Larissa W.’

The ping of the email distracted you for a moment.

Good- that was good- your classes would be covered and you were ‘off the hook’. Great. Take as much time as you need mhm mhm… blah blah blah… stop by later today… mh-

Wait.

Wait, what?

You blinked, stared down at the lit up screen of your phone, and then blinked again.

She was… stopping… by? Later? On that day? When the clench in your abdomen was so strong that you were descending into sniffling sobs every two seconds? On that day, when you had just reached the point in which your fingers- the four you managed to fit and utilize- no longer got rid of the ache? On that day, when you were cursing yourself for never buying a fucking sex toy just for the Hell of it?

In your defense, you didn’t think you were ever going to descend into a spontaneous excruciating heat at any point in your life- but it didn’t really matter anyway.

Because whether you liked it or not, Larissa Weems, your boss, the headmistress of the Nevermore Academy for Outcasts, the main event of your wet dreams and sexual fantasies was going to stop by your room for a ‘brief chat’... and you hadn’t been clothed for three days. And your legs were trembling all the time. And the insides of your soft thighs were coated in slick constantly. And your skin was always overheated and sensitive and your voice was hoarse due to the amount of muffled screaming you pressed into the fabric of your pillow and your bed was very much unmade and your room smelled like a 24 hour sex dungeon and the blush on your cheeks had only increased tenfold by the time you sat up in your unmade bed, winced, and let out a whine.

Oh why had the Gods cursed you so?

Why had they placed a hex on your little human body and filled it with a libido that could only match the ferocity of dragons? Why did they force a potion of lust down your throat and place you in front of Larissa Weems and make you look at her with eyes of dark desire? Why did they place the image of her sloping hips and long legs and thick thighs in your mind and poison you with dreams that followed you into the waking world?

Why did you want her so badly?

Why did you yearn for her touch and why did you want her smell enveloping your body and why- oh god why- did you want to kiss her so often? Why did you want her to take care of you? Why did you want her of all people! to take you to bed and make you see stars? Why did you want red lipstick covering your skin and why did you want your face between her thighs and why did you want to feel her come apart beneath you? Why did she drive you wild? Why did she force you into a state of fluster that you could only pull yourself out of when you were alone?

Why did she plague you?

“I can’t do this…,” you suddenly confessed to no one in particular as you let out a sigh.

The fire had dulled to a simmer long enough for you to stand and slowly make your way to the bathroom.

Pain experienced during heat, you came to find, was far different than any other pain. It was like you felt empty - utterly disgustingly empty - and your body hated that. It rebelled. It made your abdomen, your fucking womb, feel hot. And after the heat, it began to ache. Like you were sitting on the edge of an orgasm and you needed that extra push- that extra kiss- that extra lick of praise- to send you tipping off the edge into an ocean of bliss…. But you couldn’t have it. The push, the kiss, the praise wasn’t there. Nor was the thrust of strong hips, or the scratch of fingernails, or the hissed growl of dominance in your ear. None of it. And your body knew that, so it made you clench and unclench constantly; and it punished you for your negligence and made your clit extra sensitive and your nipples hard and eager to be teased and your skin- oh your poor skin- was practically begging for someone to touch it. To mark it. To hold it and squeeze it and bite it and make it theirs.

Make it hers.

Goodness, you were pathetic. The fog that fell over your mind whenever you thought of Larissa was so hypnotizing that once your thoughts got going, they couldn’t stop.

‘Think of her,’ the strange lustful monster within you hissed, ‘Think of her and all of the sinful things she could do to you. Think of her hands pulling your hair, think of her warm thighs straddling your waist, think of her tongue running itself along your neck… and down your chest… and lower and lower… lower… pooling with drool and letting it drip-drop onto your cunt… licking at your clit…’

A whimper slipped past your lips as soon as you stepped into the water of your shower.

The heat was both soothing and torturous, doing you no favors as it instantly glazed the top of your mind; normally you’d prefer to make it cold to put a damper on your libido, but the need to get off yet again overpowered any lingerings of common sense.

But really, if you were being honest with yourself, there was no common sense during ‘heat’. At all. You figured that out rather quickly when, on the fourth day of wanting to be fucked mercilessly, you began entertaining thoughts of breeding. Of course you didn’t want a child. But the thought… the thought… of such warmth in you… filling what was always so painfully empty… of someone- of her- holding you down and breeding you full, growling that you were to be hers forever, was something that had you cumming in under five minutes. You simply couldn’t help it. And ever since that thought, it was as though you crossed into the dark side. All kinds of kinks and experiments filtered into your horny little brain, and all you could do to keep yourself from going crazy was to keep orgasming until your fingers could barely move.

It was the worst experience of your life…

…when you weren’t sitting on the built-in shower stool and thrusting three fingers into yourself, imagining Larissa watching you from beyond the glass. It was terrible except for when you pictured her telling you to go faster, to slow down, to take your fingers out completely and spread your folds wide so she could coo over how cute you looked when your cunt ached for her touch. It was maddening while you weren’t fantasizing about her stepping into the shower with you- all 6 feet, 3 inches of her- and threading her perfect hand in your hair and pressing you to her venus mound and making you kiss it until you came around your own fingers. Then making you stick your tongue out and look up at her as she slowly rolled her hips, coating you in a taste you knew you’d never ever get tired of.

Maybe even… oh god… maybe even shifting that part of herself and surprising you by sliding the head of her cock into your mouth and making you worship her until you forgot your own name. Running your eager tongue along the hot veins… peering up through your eyelashes as she slowly- slowly- craned her head back and let out a deep bone-shaking groan… Unable to help herself as she pushed you down just a bit more, slowly making that ‘pretty mouth of yours’ (as she called it) take as much of her as it could.

“There… yes, right there darling…” You could practically hear her words, as if she were with you, while your eyes rolled back and your other hand came up to rub furiously as your clit.

Unfortunately, even as you sat there and felt the prickling wave of heat wash over your body, clenching tightly around your own fingers while you orgasmed, you knew that it wouldn’t be enough. You knew that the water running down your face was mixed with frustrated tears. You knew that no climax you reached all by yourself would ever be able to properly satiate your body and every thing it was feeling. After all, a ‘normie’ was not supposed to experience ‘heat’ - and your mind was already so close to breaking all by itself.

It was just a shame that Larissa wasn’t there to snap it in half for you.

✩*⢄⢁✧ --------- ✧⡈⡠*✩

This was just a quick exercise - I want to better my smut writing abilities. New updates soon and all that. Any thoughts on a Part 2? - Ripley x

✩*⢄⢁✧ --------- ✧⡈⡠*✩

[mermaidgirl30]

My Heart I Surrender

This was a writing challenge by @iamasaddie and it was soooo much fun to partake in! I got a really angsty moodboard, so I apologize for the tears you might spill 😭 I LOVED doing this and hope to do more very soon! I just jotted all this out this afternoon, so I hope you enjoy 🥰 This is also in Joel’s POV!

Pairing: Joel x fem! reader

Word count: 2.5k

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only MDNI)

Tags: Angst, feelings, angsty Joel, smut, confessing feelings, more angst

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The rustic, spinning clock ticks over the soft patters of rain against the fogged up living room window. It’s like a competition, the vibrating sounds colliding together in a deafening noise that reverberates around your mind. Tick, tick, patter, patter. It’s too much, too loud for you to handle.

You hold your head in between your hands and cover your ears, trying to drown out the suffocating noise in your mind. You close your eyes tightly and try to forget. Forget the sounds of her walking out of the room, forget the way she slammed the door and ran out. But you can’t forget. It’s too fresh, too paralyzing.

Tick, tick. You gnash your teeth together and crush your head between your knees, desperate to escape the haunted ticks that keep coming. Louder, louder. It’s enough to drive a mad man crazy.

Tick, tick. That’s it. The final straw to make you lose control again. You push yourself out of the leather recliner and throw the empty whiskey glass at the clock. It immediately crashes to the floor, glass and broken pieces go everywhere against the dark wooden floors. The ticking abruptly stops and so does your pounding headache.

You run a rough hand through your messy curls, slicking it back into place. You sigh haggardly and slowly turn in the direction of the worn out couch, freezing at the mere sight of it. Your jaw clenches up as soon as you see it. Right in the center of the rose colored couch is the imprint of her. You run your calloused fingers slowly over the velvety material, feeling exactly where she laid. It’s almost like she’s still here. Almost. It’s still damp, still dripping with her arousal. You can smell her. The aroma of vanilla and cinnamon lingering in the air, just like the memory of her.

You pull your hand back and bite your tongue as you feel blood run straight down your throat. It’s the taste of loss, the taste of resentment. You did this to yourself. You. You throw yourself over the cushiony material, splaying your hands all over the damp material. Come back, come back. But she’s gone. She’s gone.

You remember her sitting in this spot not even an hour ago, with your head in between her creamy thighs. The way her breathy moans sounded as you tasted her. Your wet tongue sliding up her folds as you circled her clit nice and slow, sucking her into your mouth as she moaned your name and tangled her fingers through your mess of wild hair. She tasted so good. Just like a fresh sip of lemonade on a warm summer day that quenched your thirst. And God, the taste of her slick as she came in your mouth again and again. That warm salty and sweet taste mixing together that formed like hot cider on your taste buds. It was addicting. You couldn’t get enough, could never get enough.

You dig your fingers into the soaked material, trying to claw your way back to her. Come back, come back. You rest the edge of your face right where she sat, feeling your rugged scruff blend in with the smell of her. Too much, this is too much.

You remember how it felt being inside her as you thrusted yourself into her again and again, can still hear her ragged moans against your ear as she wrapped her legs around you and dug her nails into your back, slowly scraping red lines against your skin. She clung to you, ripping into your plaid shirt as she squeezed you tight, not ready to let go. And you fucked her like it was the last night you’d ever have with her. You made it passionate, slow, rough, exotic. And you made her cum three different times, but it wasn’t enough. It still wasn’t enough.

But it was the last night. Just like she told you when you saw her at Tipsy Bison earlier. One more time, she said. This is the last time. It was a love letter that ended with you. No more, this was the last straw. She was saying goodbye. It was a goodbye. But goddamn it, you didn’t want it to be. You never wanted it to be. This can’t be over. It won’t be over. Not if you can help it.

You pick yourself off the floor, crawl your way to the door as you grab a single cigarette that sits in the pocket of your denim jeans. You stopped smoking, she killed your bad habit as she always grabbed them out of your hand and threw them in the trash. You don’t need them. They’re bad for you, she’d say. She was always good about that, killing your bad habits. But she wasn’t here to tell you no. And God, you needed something to numb the pain. Anything.

As you stand up and walk to the white wooden door, you caress your fingers on the brass knob and close your eyes, remembering exactly how she left. You could still feel her hot skin, feel the echoes of loss and torture swirl around the room as you remember the way she left. Her eyes were filled with tears. Those sparkling, gorgeous eyes that took your breath away every time you set your sights on her. But this time she was broken, a torn fragment of your imagination now. She was so sad, so distraught in the worst way. And the way she looked at you before she walked out… God, it nearly kills you to think about.

Please, don’t go, you called after her. Desperate to keep her here with you, to stay one more night. If it meant you got to hold her one more time. One final time.

I can’t stay. Please, don’t make this harder than it has to be.

I….. You almost told her you loved her, almost broke down when you saw her opening the door. But almost wasn’t enough, it was never enough.

I have to go, she said. And then she walked out that door, leaving you hollow and broken inside, just like your now empty, vacant house.

You ran after her, calling her name, yelling her name. Please, please. Don’t go, you pleaded. Your voice a scratchy, hurling mess.

She turned so slowly, bloodshot with red eyes and tears spilling down her crimson cheeks. She shook her head no, digging her hands inside her violet jacket. She was right on the verge of collapsing, so close to barreling over in agony. And she said the words, those frozen, utterly dreadful words. I can’t… And then she fled, running back to her house, away from you. For good.

You stood there watching her, fisting your unruly curls with your fists and trying not to break down. But you had already broken down the moment she walked through your door, the moment she walked out into the rain and left you standing there, broken and beaten. A bottled up case of whiskey blues.

You punch the door, your knuckles hitting like jagged scars across the wood. Your knuckles turn red and start bleeding, just like your black heart. You step out on the vacant porch, the wood squeaking beneath you as the pounding rain hits against the edge of the wooden porch. You light up the cigarette, sticking it in your mouth and inhaling a puff of nicotine, desperate for some kind of relief. Any relief. It shoots through your lungs, numbing the pain just a tad as it takes the edge off. You blow out the smoke as it curls around the drizzle, mixing in with the whispers of the howling wind. She’s gone.

You inhale the smoke like it’s oxygen to your lungs, fighting every feeling in you to numb that empty space in your heart. The space where she’s missing. Your petal made from roses. Your sweet, intoxicating rosebud. But she’s not yours anymore. She’s not yours.

You finish the cigarette and stomp it out with your leather, worn boot, pushing it to the side so you don’t have to be reminded of the bad habits you said you’d stop. You did stop, but she’s gone so why does it matter anymore?

As you look out at the foggy, rainy night, you can almost see her. See the ghost of what once was an hour ago. Can see the way her long hair clung to her shoulders as the rain dripped off onto her back. Can see the look on her eyes before she ran off. She was torn, eaten up with hurt as she walked away. Her figure was only a mere memory now.

God, you couldn’t bear it. Couldn’t stand the mere thought of losing her. Not after you held her in your arms night after night. Not after you entwined yourself in her and lost yourself in her body over and over again. Not after her lips had marked yours, singeing her scent all over you as the cinnamon flavor swirled through your mouth. She was what brought you peace. Her. But you fucked it up. Fucked it up with every pointless fight you started because you were so fucking angry with the world, and you didn’t know how to control yourself. But she helped to calm you, helped to part the seas of your chaotic crashing hurricane. She was like a gentle spring day, a bed full of soft roses where you could lay your head when it got too much. But now it was just cloudy thunderstorm days without her. It was pure torture, no more spring days to mask your pain.

A wave of nausea pulls at your insides as you stumble forward, anxiety coursing through you like a hard metal bullet. You feel like you can’t breathe, your chest so tight that it hollows in on itself and leaves you bleeding inside. It’s like a sharp knife slicing you in two, tearing open your insides as you bleed to death. You hold your chest as you step into the rain, trying to calm your racing thoughts as you claw at the wooden railing on the edge of the porch.

The rain comes down hard on you, covering you in a sea of regret and longing. It dawns on you now that you can’t lose her. You can’t say goodbye. You won’t say goodbye. So without thinking, you run as fast as you can, dodging mud puddles and holes in the ground as you run like lightning. You have to stop her, you have to apologize. You have to get her back. You can’t lose her too. No, you just can’t.

You’re wheezing, coughing your lungs out as you run faster and faster, getting closer to her house. God, you wish you wouldn’t have smoked that cigarette, but it was too late. And now all you care about is finding her before it’s too late.

You make it to her front porch and pound on the rusty door, desperately clawing your way back into her life. You have to try, you have to try. After two more sharp pounds to the door, she opens it swiftly as shock registers on her face.

“Joel, what are you…”

You cut her off, too desperate to wait any longer. You come back crawling to her like a starving dog that’s lost its owner, pleading for her to take you back. You say her name anguished, your eyes tearing up and filling with puddles as you feel a teardrop trickle down your cheek like the soft droplets of rain that encase your cold body.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. For always starting fights, for blowing up in your face from things that weren’t your fault. For breaking your heart over and over. I just… I’m so sorry. Forgive me. Forgive me, please. Because if you don’t then I can never forgive myself for ruining what we have because it’s the best damn thing that’s ever happened to me. I need you, baby. I need you,” you desperately plead as more tears fall down your face, blurring your vision from the beauty that stands in front of you.

“Hey, stop. It’s okay. I’m right here. See?” She asks as she grazes her warm hand over your scruff, catching a falling tear with the tip of her thumb as her eyes glaze over yours, regret filling her face. “Joel, why did you come?” she asks as she looks into your eyes eagerly, looking for an answer in your blurring eyes.

“To apologize. To tell you I can’t live without you. I…I…” you struggle with the words, getting caught in your throat as you choke them out. But you say it, you have to say it. “I love you…” you whisper as your voice fills the void, your heart bleeding out on the dirt that you stand on, screaming her name as you try to claw your way from the hollow ground.

“You love me…?” She asks with softness flowing off her voice.

“Yes. So much. Please, baby. I love you so goddamn much it hurts.”

Her hand brushes your jawline, narrowly tracing your beard as her eyes start to water. You slowly graze your fingers against her cheek as you catch a falling teardrop and wipe it away shakily.

“I…I love you too. I always have. I always will,” she chokes out.

You close your arms around her and bring her into your chest, crushing her against the wet plaid material as more tears spill down your face, landing in her damp hair as you run your fingers through it, feeling that velvety touch that you missed so goddamn much. “I’m not letting you go again, baby. Never ever,” you breathe out, clinging to her like your life depends on it.

“I’m sorry for walking out. I didn’t want to, I really didn’t. I just…I…”

You tilt her head up and crush your lips to hers, feeling that soft, velvety skin that you longed to taste again. She folds into you, wrapping her hands around your shirt and pulling at the buttons, desperate to get near you again. You slide your tongue in her mouth and encase her flavor all over your tongue, basking in her warmth as you melt into her. She pulls you into the house and slams the door closed, still connected by her touch.

She pulls apart from you and stares up at you with longing eyes. Loving eyes. “Don’t go back tonight, Joel. Stay with me,” she says in a desperate, needy tone.

You draw a line with your thumb down her jawline, memorizing every perfect feature on her face. “I’ll stay. For however long you want me to,” you promise, your words filling up your chest with warmth as another tear slips down your face.

“Forever?” she asks with hope filling her eyes.

“Forever.”

You spend the rest of the night just holding her, both of you in wet tears as you lay all your emotions on the table. It’s exactly what you should’ve done all along. This is what you needed. You needed to feel your feelings, not bottle them up. But this felt good, it felt…natural. And so you stay like that the rest of the night, wrapped up in each other and losing yourself in one another. But this is where you belong, where you need to be. You’re home. With her, with your love. Your glowing, beautiful rose petal. Your forever and always.

Tags: @iamasaddie

[whaleofatjme1920]

Kinktober Day 15: Bad Habits [Alex Kralie X F!Reader]

Warnings: Hate sex, degradation, breeding and creampies MINORS DNI

AN: Kind of a continuation from a previous kinktober fic??

Kinktober Masterlist

Reblogs are appreciated!

You knew it was a bad idea when it first entered your head. Still, you got in your car and drove over to your agreed spot, a parking lot in the middle of the woods, after you sent him a text on his shitty burner phone. He wanted to meet you, of course he did, and you did too. You couldn't help yourself, and neither could he.

You parked a few spots away from him and felt the dread in your lower stomach and also the familiar pang of hunger, a near insatiable lust as you drew nearer and nearer to him.

Neither of you said a word when you rounded his car and slid into the passenger seat. You could smell cigarettes wafting in the air and feel the cold leather underneath you, and you could see the stupid little pine tree air freshener bounce when the two of you lunged for each other in a heated gnashing of teeth. The two of you were like animals attempting to fight to the death as he pulled at your hair and forced you into the backseat.

You hissed and scratched at him roughly, lust and anger swirling in your gaze when he pushed you hard into the backseat. He didn't care if it brought you any pain or bruised you in any shape or form, you were not to be treated delicately in times like these. He wanted to use you for nothing more then stress relief, like a pretty piece of furniture of a fun new appliance for him, and you wanted to be part of his world, if only as a fixture.

You felt your legs spread apart and you attempted to keep him out. It's always been more fun to make him wait and work for it. You growled softly when you see him unzip himself. "You're so pathetic," you spit when you see his hard cock waiting for you.

He rolls his eyes and sneers at you as he pushes up his glasses. Alex doesn't care about what you think, but when you insult him, he feels his ego singed. "Shut your goddamn mouth," he replies, his voice dripping venom, "you're the cumslut that keeps coming back to me." Alex lines himself up with you for a moment before his fingers fall between your legs. It's not like he'd bother with any foreplay, not at a time like this. His index and middle fingers trace your lips and he spreads you open. "You're already soaking for me, practically asking for it..."

Heat floods your face as you look away from his piercing gaze. "Shut up," you defend yourself. You attempt to wriggle away from him and put some distance between the two of you. But Alex's grip is too tight. He reprimands you, growling and ready to bite into your neck as he crudely forces your legs upwards and shoves his cock inside of you.

"You're tight," he moans before laughing slightly, amused at how he can't easily slide inside of you. He digs his nails into your thighs and ignores your cries of annoyance at how he's folding you. Your skin presses against the leather seats and the car starts to rock. "Tight and ready to be round with my kid," he mutters to himself.

Your eyes widen in pleasure as he presses deeper and deeper inside of you, your pussy taking him as deep as you possibly can. You moan, a guttural sound, still cursing his name as he smacks his hips against yours. Your pussy gushes sweet liquid all around him. You don't care that he'll complain about you staining his seats again, all you know is that he feels too good and you can't deny him any further. You dig your nails into him where you can, unamused that he's still wearing his hoodie. You claw at the back of his neck and clutch him, your nails running through his brown hair and marking him for everyone to see.

"I hate you," you cry out as your pussy tightens around his cock. You can feel every inch of him, his thick, girthy cock. He strokes inside of you perfectly even though he's not the lengthiest of men that you've laid with. His veins rub along your walls perfectly, and your greedy cunt can't get enough of him. You moan again as you feel him get closer and closer.

"I think you're gonna cum for me, aren't ya? Hate me that much but you'll still cum on my cock," he taunts you more. He wants to come undone, but not until you do so first. "I'll fill you up with my cum and give you a kid that looks just like me," he rambles. "Come on, cum for me and I'll give you what you want."

You lean your head back and screech, your most animalistic tendencies surfacing as you wildly thrash against him. Your body takes him, and suddenly, it all snaps. You feel yourself gushing with white hot pleasure and your pussy convulsing around his cock. You're squeezing him and already attempting to milk him for everything he's got. Through your orgasm, you curse him in every which way you can think of.

Alex revels in this. He feels such deep pleasure over this amount of control over your body and he grins. "Couldn't resist yourself, just a bitch in heat that wants to be bred," he murmurs before his eyes roll upwards. His glasses have slid down his nose a bit as he ruts deep inside of you and gives you what he's promised. Rope after rope of thick cream deposits deep inside of you, filling you to the brim. He's warm, and panting as he does so. HIs eyes squeeze shut as he gasps for air while his balls empty inside of you. "Every... last... drop...!" He moans, eyes rolled upwards as he breeds you.

You can feel him pulsing inside of you, still finishing as the two of you pant together. You can hardly see straight, but the allure of the situation has worn off. You use your forearm to wipe the sweat off and glare at him. "Get off of me," you dryly command him, eyes furrowed.

Alex raises a brow but does as you ask, his body exhausted from how hard he pounded inside of you. "Had enough baby juice?" He asks as he starts to zip his pants up.

You cringe, "you're disgusting."

"Yet you're the one who let me cum inside this time."

[bamboozledbird]

HOWLING: TST Rewrite // Prev. / Chapter 3 / Next.

Characters: Thomas, fem!reader, Newt, Aris, Teresa (bg), Minho (bg), Frypan (bg), Winston (bg) Pairing(s): Thomas x Reader (the slowest of burns as is my brand) Word Count: 4.2k Tags: Mix of book and movie canon, newt!sister!reader Warnings: Canon typical violence and gore, heavy gore and violence this chapter, sad times are ahead my friends

A/N: What is a writing schedule. I certainly don't have one anymore. Right now the inspo is only pulling me here bc she is a fickle, fickle mistress. Also, if you've only seen the movies, you might be a bit confused. Cranks are different in the books; they don't look like zombies exactly. The longer they remain a crank, the more injuries they get from fighting each other or hurting themselves bc they're, y'know, tragically insane. They can usually talk too, but they sound real messed up and, again, insane. From here on out, the lore will probably blend between movie and book based on what I remember the best lmao. Taglist: @m30wk1ttycat @mxltifxnd0m

You’ve heard about cranks. You know all the technical terms and definitions. WCKD told you about all of the stages, described the slow descent into madness during their lengthy justification of your two years in hell. They said the worst part is just before the end, when you know you’re about to turn, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. That’s when they leave, they said. That’s when they banish themselves to the hidden societies of the damned—the violent, savage world of the Gone. 

None of it prepared you for witnessing it first-hand.

Thomas turns towards you, and his smile immediately twists into panic—though, panic isn’t quite right. You’ve seen Thomas panicked before, often, in fact. It seems to be a constant with him; there’s always a little bit of unease crawling under his skin. 

This is something else. 

Thomas is in front of you, breathing heavily against your skin, before you can think of a better word. He grabs your arm and yanks you into his chest so quickly your shoulder clicks under the strain.

 A loud shriek answers all of the questions furrowing your brow. 

A girl—an almost girl, throws herself against the chain link fence you were just leaning on. She snarls around the wire, teeth gnashing together without any regard for her tongue. Foam gathers at the corners of her mouth and dribbles down her chin. She’s more animal than human. 

You know the terminology, Past the Gone; it doesn’t make this any easier. It doesn’t make this easier at all. 

The first thing you notice is how small she is. There are more pressing things that require your attention—like the deep gashes carved into her skin and the large scars spread across her cheeks to her browbones. And her eye sockets. Fuck, her eye sockets are hollow and obscured with pink knitted tissue—and that’s when you realize exactly what the scars are from. She clawed her own eyes out. 

Such horrific, grisly details, and all you think about is how small she is. You finally realize what she’s screaming. Help me. She’s screaming, ‘Help me.’

“Come on,” Thomas tugs on your arm again and pulls you further away from the screaming, “we gotta move. We gotta move now.”

A crank rushes from the shadows. A man this time, missing his nose, and you shudder through your shoulders when you notice the bite marks around the exposed nasal cavity. 

Thomas drags you forward by your hand, forcing you to keep up with his sprint. His feet are nimble as they are quick; he snakes away from the cranks emerging from the darkness without missing a step. Your rhythm is a little less fluid, but every time you trip over a sudden pivot or scattered plywood, Thomas’s grip on your wrist hauls you back onto your feet. It hurts a little. Thomas’s blunt nails dig into the thin skin on the inside of your wrist, and his fingers squeeze the delicate bones hard enough to bruise—and you’ve never been more grateful for anything in your life. 

You can hear the thrum of your blood rushing in your ears, your feet slamming against the concrete, and the muddy sound of someone shouting through the fog of adrenaline. Nothing else seems real. 

Thomas has to scream directly in your face to cut through the haze. “Hold ‘em shut.” 

The world refocuses with harrowing clarity. 

There’s chilling laughter on the other side of the door, and Thomas clutches at your shoulder with his free hand. He nods towards the thin sheets of metal and glass separating you from savage teeth and feral eyes. “Hold ‘em shut.” You don’t have the mental capacity to question him. 

It takes your full weight to keep the horde of cranks from breaking through the doors, and you know you can’t manage it for long. Your heels start to slip against the floor, and you can just barely hear Thomas over the sound of your boots squealing and cranks asking for, ‘just a little taste.’

Thomas yells, barks really, “Get out of the way,” from the corner, and you do. 

You trust him in this primal state. You can’t decide if that means more than how you feel about him when you’re in your right mind—and then a large filing cabinet crashes to the floor and wakes you from your temporary stupor.

Thomas takes your hand again and rushes forward. He can’t decide, it seems, whether he should keep you behind him or in front of him, but it doesn’t matter when a double escalator, broken-down and cluttered with debris from the ceiling, separates you. Your feet remember what to do now that you’re on your own. 

You turn a corner, and a sudden burst of air whooshes through your lungs when you see that the rest of the group is okay. Newt cups a hand over his eyes and squints. You can see the exact moment he finally hears what Thomas is shouting, and then again when he sees the creatures nipping at your heels. 

Newt’s eyes somehow grow wider, and you think, for a moment, that they might just engulf his entire face. “Oh shit.” 

Newt, fool-heartedly, doesn’t start running until you reach him. You grab his hand and wish you had the breath and time to shake the stupid right out of him. 

“What in the ever-loving hell are those things?” Newt shouts, close to your ear. 

You wrench him forward with a harsh tug when he tries to look over his shoulder again. “Oh you know,” you wheeze slightly as you snag a broken piece of rebar from the ground, “just Thomas and his groupies.”

“Well tell’em to take a bite outta him, then.”

You feel a little pinch of guilt in your gut as Newt’s struggles with his bad leg—but you don’t let up your pace. You jerk him forward every time his joints get stuck or he trips over his uneven footing. Better he have an aching leg than no leg at all. 

“What about the ones without ears?” You manage a flash of a smile, more of a spasm really, and Newt exhales a sharp breath of air that feels like a laugh. 

He yelps when you pull him away from a pair of cranks on your right, swallowing the snark poised on his sharp tongue. Two more cranks swarm from the left, and Newt tries to push you in front of him, but you beat him to it. You shove him up the next set of escalators and stay a step behind him, ready to push him—hell, ready to carry him up the flight of stairs if need be. You’d figure it out; adrenaline can make a person do crazy things, after all.

A crank manages to get ahold of your jacket, and Newt falters. “Go,” you shove Newt with one hand and rip your other through your jacket sleeve. You can’t even feel the ache in your broken thumb, not with the panic sparking through every single one of your synapses. “Get out of here.” 

The crank still has a hold of your empty sleeve, and it seems like she isn’t planning on letting go anytime soon. You swing the rebar into her arm and twist out of the other sleeve, sending your denim jacket and the crank spiraling down a long descent to the floor.

Newt is waiting at the top of the stairs, and you give him the fiercest glower you can manage while struggling for air. “I told you to go,” you snap. 

Newt takes your hand this time and rolls his eyes—impressively flippant given your current situation. “Yeah, well you aren’t the boss of me, are ya? I’ve already got one friend with a god complex; don’t need two.”

Your lungs are burning, and your head is throbbing, and you’re too tired to launch into a tirade about just exactly how stupid he is. “Should be,” you hiss through your gasps. “You make terrible decisions.”

“I’m older.” You’re sure if Newt could breathe without coughing, he would be sticking his tongue out at you. 

“Senile, you mean,” you reply, smugly and with emphasis. You can see the door ahead. It’s so close; you think you might just make it. 

Glass shatters behind you, and you’re filled with an all-encompassing sense of dread when Newt doesn’t snark back. 

Your head whips around just in time to see a crank crash into Newt. 

Newt falls. It happens instantly and endlessly—and you run straight towards the crank on top of him before you even realize you need to. It’s instinct. Something deeper inside your mind than a thought. Something written in your bone marrow, coded in your DNA. 

Something WCKD can’t erase. 

You smash the bar against his—it, you think with an edge of desperation—its skull. The sound of the cranks' bones shattering makes your stomach turn and your eyes water. You have just enough time to kick it off of Newt and pull him to his feet. 

You don’t let go of his hand this time. You keep your sweaty palms, grimy with dust and dirt, pressed together until you see moonlight. 

When you finally stop moving, your legs give out on you. You fall to the ground and lean back against a frigid wall. For a long time, all you can hear is soft panting; it’s almost comforting—a reminder that you aren’t alone. You’re surrounded by humanity, maybe even friends in another life. You allow yourself to burn your fingertips on the thought as your eyelids droop towards your cheekbones.

The shelter Thomas found isn’t very hospitable; the walls are precariously balanced slabs of broken concrete, and the only seats to be found are jagged pieces of rubble and rusted steel barrels. Perhaps, that’s why the cranks give up their search, or maybe it’s closer to dawn than you think. Frankly, you’re fine with either option. Your legs have jellified, and the others don’t look much better. 

After a long, arduous hour, Thomas shifts and deems it safe enough to talk. He keeps his voice low. You can’t hear what he’s saying to Teresa and his other friend—Min…something, you try to recall, definitely something with an ��M’—but you’re pretty sure it’s about Winston. You do know Winston’s name. It’s the least you can do after he was nearly shredded in two while giving you enough time to escape. 

Winston’s quiet groaning masks the rest of their conversation. Selfishly, you’re more concerned about Newt anyway, and the feeling is far too familiar for comfort. 

You nudge at Newt’s ankle with an admittedly pathetic kick. “Prop your leg on that,” you nod towards a chunk of concrete in front of him. 

Newt’s head lulls towards you, heavily, like it's going to snap off of his slender neck and roll to the ground. “Already told ya’, you're not the boss’f me,” he mumbles, words slurring together with his melting eyelids.

You roll your eyes and huff, “It’ll help with the swelling.” You kick at his leg again, and you keep nudging him until he complies with a sigh so heavy it makes you roll your eyes once more. 

He lifts his leg with shaky arms and drops it on top of the rubble without ceremony. “Happy?”

You stick your tongue out at him, just because you can, and give him a vexing smirk. “Exceedingly.”

Newt mutters something under his breath that you don’t bother to acknowledge. He’s a blink away from sleep anyway. 

You close your eyes, but you can’t fall asleep. You can’t tell if it’s lingering adrenaline or simply because you’re a bad sleeper, even when you aren’t sleeping on concrete. It’s the dreams. They come for you most nights, and they’re never sweet. They’re caked with blood and laden with grief. 

You sit up and pull your knees to your chest. Your cracked lips curve into a fond smile when you see Newt clutch your backpack close to his chest, like a child with their favorite blanket. Or their teddy bear. You swallow and scrub at your eyes. That girl in the cage, what was left of her anyway—she couldn’t have been more than six.  

The back of your neck prickles with the warmth of someone’s, or something’s, attention. You slant your head towards the sensation and meet Thomas’s gaze. His eyes are dark in the starless sky, almost black, but they still shine with concern. Worry. He’s always worried, you’ve noticed. Always on edge, waiting for something to lurch out of the shadows, waiting for something else to be taken from him. 

Thomas tilts his head a little and then nods towards a pile of sand a little ways away from the concrete cave. 

Dawn is just beginning to settle over the desert, and the sand looks golden in the light of the rising sun. A little sigh of relief slips through your lips—Cranks don’t like the sun. Honestly, at the peak of day, you can’t blame ‘em. 

Thomas slips out of his corner and holds his hand out towards you. You look at it for a second, chew on your bottom lip, and then take it. He lets go after he pulls you to your feet, and your skin immediately misses the warmth. 

You’ve come to find that the Scorch is a cruel, cruel mistress. It varies between freezing and blistering, and you can’t help but find it incredibly unfair. Silly compared to everything else, maybe, but it irks you all the same. 

You watch the beginnings of daybreak with Thomas by your side. After you let out a soft exhale, Thomas tips his chin down to look at you. 

“You okay?” he says quietly. You aren’t sure if the quiet is for you, or the sleeping Gladers, or the stillness of early morning—but it’s nice all the same.

“Uh huh,” you yawn it more than you say it. 

“Your hand?” Thomas presses, crooking his head down to examine your bruised thumb in the faint light. 

“S’okay,” you shrug and shudder. You can’t really tell if it’s the residual chill of night or the ache in your thumb. In the end, Thomas decides for you. He shrugs off his jacket and wraps it around your shoulders. 

Thomas is left in a gray t-shirt that looks as thin as your tank top. You frown at his bare arms and tilt your head up at him, “Now you’ll be cold.”

He shrugs, a little sheepish. It makes you smile. “I run warm.”

You rest your fingertips against his forearm and shiver as his chilled skin leeches the warmth from your fingers. “Liar,” you hum, but a tiny smile wiggles across your lips. 

Thomas bites his lip, “I’ll be fine once I’m in my sleeping bag.” 

Your lips purse, and your eyes narrow, “You gonna go put on your sleep bag, then?”

He gives you a little grin, “Maybe. I think I could pull it off.”

You think that he could, indeed, pull it off. Truly, Thomas could pull anything off, and you think it’s also incredibly unfair that a person can be so infuriating and so pretty all at the same time. 

You dig the toe of your boot into the sand and wrap Thomas’s jacket tighter around your torso. “If I asked you a question, would you tell me the truth?” He frowns, and you suppose that’s fair. It’s a loaded question, especially compared to the weather. 

Thomas turns towards you and catches your illusive gaze, “Yes.” 

You trap your lip between your teeth and look up at him with big, blinking eyes. It’s not the answer you expected, and you think that he might be the only person in the world who’d give it. 

“Do you think we’re gonna make it?” you ask quietly. You glance out at the imposing horizon, a wasteland of nothing but sand and the sparse remnants of a world that’s almost extinct. You look back at Thomas, searching his face with bloodshot eyes. “Do you really think we’ll ever stop being afraid? That someday we’ll be…” your nose scrunches as you scour your mind for the right word. When you find it, you wonder if it was part of the girl WCKD wiped away, if that’s why it took you so long to unearth. “Free,” you finish quietly, “do you really believe that someday we’ll be free?”

Thomas doesn’t answer for a long time, and then he flickers his gaze to your face. His eyes are so big, lined with dark lashes that kiss his freckles. Like a fawn, you muse, he has the eyes of a fawn. Right now, they’re resolved. “I have to,” he finally answers, quiet again, another thing for you to keep.

The corner of your mouth tugs into a soft smile, sad too, “That’s not really an answer.”

Thomas shrugs slightly, and his mouth falls into a hard line. “It has to be.”

You chew on your cheek and his answer. He did what you asked, you suppose. You asked for honesty, not logic. Dropping to the sand, you trace little swirls in the grains with deft fingers and hum, “Can I ask you another question?”

He nods and sits down next to you. 

“How do you…” you shake your head a little and struggle for meaning, “do it.” 

Thomas’s brow pinches, “It?”

You run your tongue over your teeth, scraping away the grit of sand stuck between your molars, and shrug. It takes you a moment to come up with a question he can actually answer. “Care,” you look at him through your lashes and rest your cheek against your knee. Your jeans scratch your skin, but it’s a distant feeling against the warmth radiating from the sand below. “How do you care so much and still have something left?” You can’t think of the right word for ‘something’, but Thomas seems to understand this time. Good. You certainly don’t. 

“I don’t know. I just…have to.” Thomas winces a little at his repetition, but when he glances at you, he has a slight smile on his face. “Why are you asking me? You do it just fine.”

You aren’t sure why it offends you so, but it does. “I do not.” 

You kick a little pile of sand and watch it burst in the air. You imagine for a moment that the grains are stars, or fireworks, or something other than a product of a world destroyed. You realize eventually that Thomas went quiet again. 

He’s looking at you when you glance over your shoulder. His face is creased with whatever thought is sharpening his eyes. They’re more gold than brown in direct sunlight, and right now it feels like they’re molten, like he’s burning through your skin, your bones, your air. You can feel him seeing you, and you have to look into the face of the sun to make it stop. 

“I saw you,” Thomas says quietly.

Your eyes water from the glaring light. You divert your gaze towards your shoes and snort, “Not this again.”

Thomas grins a little, but it turns into something much softer when says, “I saw you in there, with the bear, and then with Newt…in-between all the screaming and running for our lives obviously,” his cheek twitches with a wry smile, “I still saw what you did for him. It was the only reason I felt like I could get us out of there, knowing you had his back.”

“Lead, you mean,” you tease with a wicked grin, “you led us out because you’re the leader. Grand Marshal Thomas—daintiest feet in all the land.” It’s a clear deflection, one Thomas doesn’t take. 

“And then after, with his leg,” Thomas makes you look at him with his unwavering focus, “you care. You care a lot.” 

You pause, suddenly feeling far less playful. You stand up and brush the sand off of your jeans, turning away from the sun and the light in Thomas’s earnest expression. “Yeah, well, I don’t care about saving the world. I just want to save him.”

Thomas is by your side again, and you can’t understand why. He stops you with a hand on your shoulder; his eyes are alarmingly piercing. “I don’t even know if the world can be saved—but I am going to save us. All of us. I promise.”

Your mouth parts, and all you can do is stare at him, eyes wide, heart thudding. The others start to stir, sparing you from coming up with a coherent response to...that. You walk away from Thomas and his disarming sincerity before you start to evaporate with the burning sun. 

You offer Newt a hand when you find him, and then immediately withdraw it when a smirk slides across his face. 

Newt props himself up on his elbows and blows his flop of feathery hair out of his eyes, “Are you going to make a habit of wandering off with Tommy? I already have a hard enough time keeping track of him.”

You rolls your eyes and nudge his shoulder with your knee, “Thought we already established that I’m the bos—”

A low, agonized groan cuts through the quiet chatter. 

The makeshift bandages wrapped around Winston’s torso are soaked through with blood. The worst of the pooling is almost black, and crimson seeps out from the center of his wound to the hem of his shirt. He struggles to sit up, and one of his friends is quick to lend a hand. 

You’ve seen enough people die from blood loss to know the odds. 

You swallow the thought and take Newt’s hand for balance as you climb down a steep pile of concrete and rebar. Everyone looks at Winston when they take a moment to breathe. It’s not discreet, but it can’t be helped. It seems like everyone knows what’s to come when they see how far away the mountains are. It’s going to take days to get there, maybe longer, and Winston doesn’t have days. He might not even have hours. It’s unspoken, and it looms overhead like the searing heat of the sun.  

When Winston tumbles down the sand dune, you can see it in their eyes. They know.

It’s a desperate, crawling feeling, knowing and not being able to do anything about it. You’ve felt it before, and when you look at the misery in their faces, you feel it again. You don’t know what to say. Don’t know what to do. Don’t know how to help when they’re about to lose another friend.

No one says much in the end. The boys load Winston onto a dodgy stretcher crafted from what little you could find in a desolate sea of sand and ruins. Frypan and Minho struggle through the sand with the added weight of their friend, but you wonder if it’s helping, being able to help in some small way. You wonder if anything can. 

Aris ends up by your side, and you let him take your hand. You still aren’t sure how old he is—neither is he, to be fair—but he’s always felt…small. Strange, considering he towers over most of the group B girls, but he does. He’s scrawny, and awkward, and shy—and yet another person you can’t do anything for. 

“You know them,” Aris says quietly, simply.

You glance over your shoulder at Newt. His face is grim as he mutters something to Teresa. “Not really.”

Aris tilts his head, ducking his eyes away from the glare reflecting off the dunes in the distance. “You did once.”

“Was that even me?” You’d let out an exasperated sigh, but opening your mouth for that long seems like a bad idea with the wind picking up behind you.

His bony shoulder lifts with a tiny shrug, “You can know them now.”

Biting down on your cheek, you shake your head and look over your shoulder briefly. The sun reflects off of the thick lines of slow, silent tears slipping down Frypan’s face, and Minho looks like he’s about to bite off his own tongue with the effort to hold back his own. 

“What’s the point?” you say it so quietly you think you might have imagined it, that maybe this is all a horrible dream, and you’ll wake up frozen to the Maze walls in the morning. 

Aris squeezes your hand, and you sigh. He’s real. This is real. Another nightmare that’s bled into daylight.

“I think he can do it.” Aris nods towards Thomas’s back. “I think he’s the right one.”

“Pretty risky,” you drawl, digging your nails into your palm when you hear Winston cry out in pain, “making a pigheaded kid with a death wish into Jesus bloody Christ. Good way to crush your faith.” 

Aris looks at you, in that startlingly perceptive way he does when he’s working out a puzzle, and then smiles a little. It’s a smidge, but it’s there. 

Your brow arches, “What?”

“He sounds a lot like you.”

Your scoff is lost to the gale cutting across the desert. It whips against your cheeks, and the gusts of sand billowing in its path blind you. 

Thomas shouts something in the distance. You can’t hear him over the wind wailing in your ears, but you can guess what he's saying. There’s no choice but to take shelter until the storm passes.

You hope that tonight’s nightmares will at least be a little sweeter than what awaits you when you wake.

[puppygirl-bixxi]

god please please just let me hump your body for some stimulation i pinky promise i’ll be good. i won’t incessantly whine and beg for you to use me. or bark in your ear when the pleasure starts ramping up. or even bite you super hard, making you yelp in surprise.

i won’t fight back as you push me off, seeing the anger sparkle in your eyes. or when you hold me by my neck and growl about how much of a huge mistake i just made. pushing down your pants as you force my legs open. i’ll try to squirm, to make everything you do to me that much harder, but you rub my puppycock and i go limp. shuddering and yipping under your touch.

it’s so fun to see me dazed and spread in front of you. smiling up at you while i lie in my back, drooling and giving you the dumbest smug look you’ve ever seen. i’m in the most compromising position ever and i still act superior to you.

you give me another rub, just to see what happens.

you hear some pitiful whines come out of my throat. watching my tongue loll out of my mouth… but that’s barely the main show. you do it again and suddenly see me leak over my tummy. rivulets of wetness slicking down my girldick. you barely even notice that you already took your pants off.

you know you were just waiting for an excuse to do this, don’t lie to me.

come on them, push yourself in, show your stupid mutt of a fleshlight that she should never hurt her owner. feeling yourself awash in the sudden warmth of my tight holes. thrust in and out. SLAM yourself in as i bark after you bury that pleasure inside of me again and again. get lost in it… crave it… again, you barely notice that your body has moved on it’s own and your hands are gripping my hips to push me in further.

you can’t tell if i’m barking and whining from pain or pleasure, you don’t care.

you don’t care as i hold onto you for dear life. you don’t care as my nails send deep, red lines down your back. or how i’m trying to pull you closer to me so i can bite my owner again. you hang back, just to watch me gnash my teeth at nothing. my face contorts in all sorts of slutty ways as stare down in satisfaction.

even when i can’t think it can get any worse, you pick up your pace. you’ve been going at this for so long, you know you’re close. how many scratches has this dumb puppy given at this point? too much. you need to punish her for that, show her who’s really in charge!

get closer! scratch her back! bite her. give her a taste of her own medicine as she screams in your ear. begging louder and louder for her master to breed her. you know it hurts to pound her this hard. but the pressure keeps building and building… rising up… exploding~

you slam your hips one final time, and watch as your little pup cums all over her tummy. feeling the waves of pure ecstasy overtake you both. falling on top of her as you feel her shaft throb underneath your weight…

when you come back to your senses, you can still feel her biting.

[fairsexynasty]

‧₊˚🩻༉‧₊🦷˚. LOSE YOU IN THE DARK

˚ ༘ ೀ🫀｡˚ universal male x gn!reader

summary: it’s always the more wicked means that produce the best kind of love.

warnings: light gore, grotesque imagery, emotional infidelity, unhealthy relationships, light smut???, mention of masturbation, overuse of italics

a/n: uhhhh…. hi. i’m just gonna… drop this here… and uh. leave requests for cm men and teen wolf men… title from breathe by fka twigs

“You’re fucking evil.”

The words are biting yet can’t quite cover the need behind them. A breath trembles in my throat. My body lets out a silent scream in the form of an unwavering, violent pulse that rages at the surface of skin.

But his eyes. God, his eyes. He’s staring at me— no, peeling me apart with those irises, like a thumb penetrating into an orange and shredding its’ skin. He knows the sound of my heart, he knows my stomach churns with every bit of distance he gains towards me.

Stop moving. Stay there, let me go. This hurts me more than it should.

It’s torture to try and let someone like him go. There’s something so methodical in the way he takes me apart in bed. He likes to have his hands travel up my torso and rest over my ribs, as if he’s about to break my sternum and crack me in half. Teeth gnashing against the soft skin of my neck. Trace the veins with the sharpest ones. Take a bite and know what I really taste like. And I want to see it. See what the blood looks like under his nails. Watch as the scars lighten and forget to fade over the years.

He’s vicious. I know the rage that lies within his soul. I know the wicked nature that shields itself under charismatic personality. He’s selfish. Deeply selfish. And emotionally sadistic.

He had to have got off on telling my ex to fuck off to hell and let me have him. Let himself have me.

She belongs with me. She’s been mine long before you ever breathed the same air as her.

I’m just as selfish as he is.

Late nights spent in a dark bathroom, my hands pulling sounds that couldn’t remain in my chest. The thought of an almost apathetic boyfriend lying awake in bed, torturing himself over tying himself to the one person he could never have. Have I called out for him louder than I should have? Of course. And it’s that very reason, that very sentiment, that leads me to release each time.

I glow in the night. It’s not for you. You don’t get to see my light. You don’t get to stand up and open that door.

I’m not there, though. I’m here. With him.

“Let me have you.” My eyes meet his hungry ones. He’s still got the face of wicked hunger. His hands envelop my shoulders and pin me down. I’m not going to fight. I’m not going to ever run. He won’t ever maim. Won’t ever abuse. “Let yourself have this.”

[voraciousvore]

The Tiny (Chapter 4)

Chapter 1 | Previous (3) | Next (5)

Content Warning: soft nonfatal unwilling g/t vore

Word Count: 4k

------ Chapter 4: Losing Control ------

I can’t sit still. My skin is crawling with a million ants, biting and stinging and burrowing subcutaneously. I’m on fire, burning with a passion and desire as blinding as the sun. I scratch at my scalp, gnash my teeth, tap my feet, pluck and grind and tear at every exposed follicle on my body. 

I’m going insane with gluttonous fantasies. Jackie is out of my sight, yet her scent is so strong in my house I can taste it. I suck on my fingers and bite my nails, desperate for any little crumb of her essence that remains from our physical contact. I curl my fingers in my mouth like wriggling worms, pretending they’re not parts of my body but rather live humans, and I audibly squeal in delight. 

I pop my fingers back out from the seal of my lips, flushing with shame. I need to control myself, but every second I don’t have Jackie in my belly is unfiltered torture. I claw at the arm of the couch, scraping at the fabric with my nails almost enough to make my cuticles bleed. I slump into the cushions before straightening and stiffening, my spine contorting like a snake held over a hot flame. 

This isn’t right. I shouldn’t have to suffer like this. I don’t wish to be an evil man; I’m not bloodthirsty enough to heartlessly kill a helpless tiny person; but the unending agony of a desire I cannot satisfy refuses to leave me in peace. I know I’ll keep feeling this way, for days and days and days into eternity, if I don’t get what I crave. The human’s not going anywhere. She can’t run or hide from me, from my perceptive nose. There’s nowhere safe for her. There is nothing left but the unavoidable collapse of my fortitude, as temptation chips away with brutish determination at my crumbling willpower. 

The clock on the wall counts every second with a tick that rings out in a deafening infliction of mockery upon me. I know I’m pathetic. My father would be thoroughly disgusted with me for my ineptitude. He’d scorn me, judge me, spit on me, call me a poor excuse for a son and a giant. And the worst part is, he’s absolutely right. I would fold under his gaze like a boneless eel. I’d reluctantly press her through my lips and swallow her as he watched, regardless of her pleas for clemency, because I’m too much of a coward to resist my urges or stand up to him. 

I can’t stop myself any longer. My heart hammers as I rise to my feet, my shadow draping over the coffee table in a twisted aberration of self within the shady room. I prowl down the hallway, my whole body tingling with anticipation. I quietly open the door and slide into the shrouded bedroom. 

A moonbeam pierces the darkness, shining through a crack in the curtains and illuminating a small lump in the bed. I pad over and stand above the object of my incessant preoccupation, staring at her intently. She’s cozied up in a ball with her eyes closed, blissfully unaware of her impending demise. I block out the moonlight, engulfing her in my sinister shadow. Perhaps the dulling of the light brings her into the waking realm, for she stirs and raises her head. She stiffens when alerted to my presence. 

Before she has the sensibility to run, I catch her in my hand and lift her up to my eye level, scrutinizing her intensely. She stares back, blinking rapidly, and a tremor runs through her from her head to her toes. I can smell her fear, and I’m beginning to salivate at the snack I will soon enjoy. I crush down any last shreds of empathy; if I allow myself to feel, I won’t be able to live with myself. I sit down slowly on the bed, then lay flat on my back, never breaking my stare. I hold her above my face, eager to drop her into the void of my maw. 

“Jaclyn,” I thunder in an authoritarian tone. I can’t bear to call her Jackie, with what I’m about to do. I’m not her friend any longer; I’m the source of her destruction. Her murderer.  

“Y-yes?” she replies timidly. She shifts with discomfort in my grasp, but her strength is no match for mine. 

I hesitate as a battle rages in my heart. I don’t want to harm her, but I NEED her. Her scent beckons me closer, the memory of her succulent taste tantalizing my tongue. There’s a failing hope within me that I might be able to stop myself from gulping her down, but deep down I know the truth. I’m a predator, and I’ll snap up my prey in a heartbeat. 

“Can I taste you again?” My utterance is framed as a question, but I leave no room for negotiation. My stomach comes alive with a resounding growl and I open my mouth wide, the interior slathered with drool. I’m so hungry, inflamed with a passionate yearning, but I want to savor this moment. Jackie’s features collapse into panic as I sample her with my tongue, lapping her all the way up her leg. Pure bliss washes over my taste buds. 

“Wait!” she shouts shrilly. “I’m not okay with this-” I’m too far gone to listen. I lower her down into my mouth, sliding her legs down the slope of my tongue. Her feet tickle the surface as she kicks and thrashes with alarm, desperate to save herself from a cruel fate. 

“Stop! Please don’t!” she screams, but I ignore her. I drop her all the way inside, closing my jaws around her luscious form and cutting off her cries. I cradle her in a loving embrace on my tongue, pressing her up to the roof of my mouth and against the inner walls of my teeth. She bucks back in protect, her little fists and feet sinking into the squishy flesh of my tongue, but her efforts only whet my appetite further. I roll her around in my mouth, slurping her into my cheek and sucking on her like candy. I wrestle down her flailing and fighting as I guide her over to the pocket of my opposite cheek and hold her in there for a while. 

I revel in the sensation of her limbs shoving into my molars and the smooth wall of my cheek. She’s effortlessly overpowered by my superior might as I compress my lips together with a luxurious swallow to drain all the excess spit. She’s delicious, perfectly divine in every way. I play with her body on my tongue as I allow every crevasse in my mouth to appreciate her touch and flavor. My juices flow in an exhilarating rush in response to her lively squirms. 

My mouth is alive with pleasure, but I urgently desire to feel her in my stomach. My digestive organs are roaring for sustenance as I fold my tongue back to push her into my gullet. Her legs lightly prod the back of my throat while I gulp her down. I let out a gratified sigh as my esophagus drags her down through my neck and chest. Her limbs pulse in resistance to the crushing tube, but she can barely move as she sinks lower into my body. From the outside, I trace her path along my skin with my fingers, until she drops into my stomach. 

I’m full. It’s a wonderful sensation, one that is exceedingly rare for me, with my insatiable hunger. The terrible void within me, both physically and spiritually, is made whole, if only for a short time. I gather my paunch in my hands reverently, relishing the beautiful moment. Why can’t I feel this way all the time? Why must I be so empty? 

“Help me! Let me out of here!” I’m shocked to hear an infinitesimal squeak from my midsection, almost imperceptible through the thick layers of flesh. All at once, the satisfaction is soured as I’m painfully aware of the consequences of my actions, the horrible crime I’ve committed. It’s a blight upon my fleeting happiness, a stain on my soul that I know all too well from prior experience will never leave me. 

“I’m sorry,” I state coldly, “but I couldn’t resist the temptation any longer.” Despite the frantic shifting in my gut from my internal prisoner, I suddenly feel dead inside. What have I done? 

“Please!” she wails. I have to strain my ears to hear her. “Please, I beg you, let me out of here! You promised you wouldn’t eat me! I trusted you!” I feel her slump with despair into my stomach lining. “What kind of person would you be to betray that trust?” 

I don’t know what to say. Should I even deign to respond? What she says and thinks doesn’t matter any longer. Soon, she’ll be an inanimate corpse, nothing more than a scrap of meat to be digested and turned into fat to line my thighs. She’s just food to me now, not a person.  

“Chester, please… I believe in you. You’re my friend. Save me, don’t let me die in here.” Her voice is choked by sobs. My heart shatters. I betrayed her in the worst way possible. I’m truly the worst type of person.  

There’s no point in lying to her now. “I… don’t know if I’ll be able to stop myself from eating you again later, if I let you out,” I admit, the ugly truth bitter on my tongue. “You tasted so delightful, and you feel so good in my belly… especially when you squirm.” 

I’m split right down the middle between two irreconcilable halves, torn between a kind man who wants to be good and a cold-blooded predator. The savage beast within me wishes to rip and tear and glut itself, regardless of the consequences, and that frightens me. I don’t want to be like that. I don’t want to be a brute. I yearn to be a good person. I want to be kind and gentle. Even so, I’m paralyzed with indecision, with critical seconds ticking away as the poor human within my churning gut is exposed to hazardous gastric juices that will render her into mush. 

Her faint voice speaks to me again, laced with desperation. “Listen… if you let me out now, I promise I’ll do anything you ask of me. Even if that means allowing you to eat me later.” 

“Really,” I answer flatly. I don’t believe her at all. If she miraculously survived, there’s no way she would voluntarily go anywhere near me after this encounter, much less enter my maw by choice. I know this, yet a spark of hope ignites within me as a dreamy fantasy surfaces in my head. Having my own little human, to pet and adore and ingest whenever I please… 

“Absolutely!” she exclaims back, tremulous. “If you don’t let me out now, I’m going to dissolve from being digested, and you’ll never be able to taste me again!” 

Her words cut through me with a stabbing pain. If I don’t save her, she will die inside me. I’ll be a murderer, and I’ll have to live forever with that guilt. As she said, I’ll never again be able to enjoy the delights of her flavor. I’ll never get to know her, never be able to fawn over her the way I want to. I’ll be alone again. So tortuously alone, with nothing but terrible regret and remorse and self-loathing to keep me company. 

“You’ve got a point.” I allow myself to be swayed, as irrational as the logic may be. As always, my heart is my weak spot, mushier than my intellect. I soften into putty. “Alright. I’ll let you out.” 

I drag myself to my feet, reluctant to relinquish the satisfying fullness that permeates my innards. However, I know every second is valuable, and skirts the divide between life and death for my miniature friend. I transport her to the bathroom and hunch over the sink, clenching my abdominal muscles. Fortunately, my anatomy as a giant allows me to extract her without purging all my stomach contents, so with a few gagging motions I’m able to recall her back up my esophagus.  

She’s eerily still, and I grow concerned. Luckily, she returns to life and shuffles a bit as she rises into my throat and up through my gullet. I cough her into my hand, and she lands with a splat, coated in a thick layer of bile, acid, and saliva. Her skin is a bright cherry red from the infernal heat of my viscera, but I don’t see any chemical burns or peeling from the acid. She appears at least conscious, if a bit dazed. She looks so frail and vulnerable. 

My heart bleeds as I douse her in cold water from the faucet, rubbing her slim body down with my comparatively beefy fingers. She’s going to need a proper bath. A deep shame corrodes every fiber of my being, and I can’t bring myself to talk to her or even look at her directly as I clean her off and prep a bath for her.  

I’m thoroughly disgusted with myself, particularly as the tang of vomit pollutes my tongue. I brush my teeth and tongue and swish water in my mouth, pining for a purity I have no right to reclaim. I’m so preoccupied with my own flurry of troubled thoughts, I forget that the diminutive woman won’t bathe while I’m present. She’s shaking convulsively, receded too far in shock to properly react. When I recognize my error, I fetch her bags from the bedroom and bring them to her, so that she can change into clean clothes, and leave her in peace.  

I quietly close the bathroom door behind me and walk robotically down the hall to the living room, deep in thought. A violent emotion dislodges in my chest and I force down a rainstorm of tears. I sit down on the couch and bury my face in my hands. 

I fucked up. Bad. I’ve ruined everything. She’ll never trust me again. She’ll only see me as a barbaric ogre, even after I’ve spared her. I took advantage of her innocence, violated her. And I realize now that I’ve trapped myself in a vicious cycle. I can’t resist temptation forever. I won’t be forgetting anytime soon how amazing she tasted, how good she felt sliding down my throat, how pleasurably full my stomach was. Such salvation is my forbidden fruit. 

I’m in a pit of hellfire of my own creation. I shouldn’t have taken her to be mine. I should’ve ignored the lightning that I knew would bring me nothing but sorrows. I should’ve eaten her the second I had her in my clutches. I shouldn’t have treated her like a person worthy of respect. I should never have asked for her name. I should’ve kept her in my stomach to digest into nothing. 

Even as my woes dogpile on, breaking my back with a burden too heavy to bear, I can discern the faults in my logic. I would not be capable of tossing away my compassion and eating a powerless person so carelessly, as much as I may wish to be as cold and heartless as my father. I don’t find such a state to be desirable, even though it would deaden my suffering to lack a conscience. I shouldn’t be so hard on myself. Regardless of whether or not I found the human, she was doomed to a savage and unforgiving death the second she wound up in the Land of Giants. I was her best chance of survival in this world so hostile to tiny people, and I almost failed her. 

Almost. She’s alive and breathing now. I haven’t killed her yet. I clench my fists, digging them into my thighs. I need to be strong, firm, upstanding. She’ll hate and fear me—such a circumstance is unavoidable, after the unforgivable thing that I’ve done—but I can’t allow myself to succumb again. I steel myself to face Jackie again and rise to my feet, trudging to the bathroom. After taking a deep breath, I knock. 

No answer, of course. She’s probably too afraid to make a peep. My suspicions are confirmed when I open the door and find her where I left her on the counter, freshly washed and dressed but shaking like a plucked guitar string. I understand the futility of trying not to scare her and walk right in, placing my hands on the counter and leaning over her. The terror in her expression is palpable as she crunches inward on herself, desperate for an out that will not materialize. She knows how small and helpless she is before me, a vicious predator. 

I heave a weighty sigh. “Look… I need to explain some things to you that I didn’t tell you before,” I begin. I can hear the fatigue in my voice, clogged with hefty emotion. There’s no point to keeping her in the dark now regarding the precarious position she’s in. “I know you’re afraid, but come with me and we’ll talk.” 

Without giving her an option, I sweep her off the counter into my hand and transport her back to the bedroom. Her body is tense as she vibrates with fear. My heart fractures anew, but I wrestle with my feelings to keep it together. I need to be strong for her. I sit on the bed and place her on my lap, circling my hands around her in case she attempts to run. Her wide eyes meet mine as she cranes her head back to stare me in the face. 

“Despite our similarities, giants are anatomically different than humans,” I expound. I’m not making excuses for myself, but I feel compelled to at least explain my behavior. “We are carnivorous, and actually require meat to survive, unlike humans who can be vegetarians.” I can’t tell if she’s following along, considering how petrified she is by the whole experience. Nevertheless, with her as my captive audience, I continue. 

“In fact, humans are supposed to be our primary food source. We were created with the express purpose of limiting the human population. As apex predators of humans, we naturally crave the taste of our human prey above all other foods. Nothing else satisfies in the same way.” 

She shivers violently at this remark. I bring in my hands around her petite frame and pet her back gently to console her. She flinches at my touch, and remorse jabs into me with a fresh wound. I strain my eyes to not let them bleed. 

“At one time, we lived in the same realm as you, the human realm. I’m sure you’ve heard many stories of giants that lived in the past. However, powerful human wizards rose up against us and banished us from the human world with their magic. Since then, we have been forced to live here, without humans to satiate our intense hunger.” 

I scoop her up in my hand and lift her up to my face. I don’t intend to frighten her. I want to underscore my honesty and sincerity and communicate my desire to mend the trust that I’ve broken, despite the awful truth. I want to study her and see her reaction up close. I speak softly, lowering my volume. “Humans do make it to our lands, albeit rarely. I’ve lived a few hundred years… and I’ve eaten a handful in my time.” 

“Such as me,” she interjects with an acerbic venom that stings me to my quick. My composure slips, and I falter. 

“Yes. I regret that choice deeply. It’s just… I hadn’t savored the flavor of a human in so long, and when you fell by accident into my mouth… it awakened a ravenous appetite that I couldn’t control,” I confess. 

I’m so worn out and tired of fighting. My efforts to restrain my despair fail, and my eyes grow wet with hot tears. “I don’t want to be a bloodthirsty monster. I never intended to hurt you. I can’t help that I was born with this burden. The urge to consume humans is so strong, I don’t know if I can fight it…” 

As I bare the darkest depths of my soul to her, my shame, my cross to bear, I expect her to recoil with disgust. I doubt she could show any clemency in her judgement for the giant man who consumed her, with no consideration for her life. She’d be revolted by my tears, seeing them as a pathetic pity-party that trivialized her own suffering. She must despise me. 

I never thought she could feel anything but revulsion towards me, a monster. So imagine my shock, when she reaches a jittery hand up to my cheek and caresses it with loving care. Her touch is feathery light, more delicate even than the occasional crystal tear rolling down my face to my chin. She makes me cry harder, but her touch is a soothing balm on my burning skin. 

I let out all my frustrations and fears. “I just don’t know what to do now,” I whine. “I want to keep you safe, but I can’t let you go. You haven’t met any other giants yet, but most are far crueler than me towards humans. If they found you…” I can’t bring myself to finish. My own brother or father would gleefully rend her into chunks with their teeth. Even my mother, despite her softer disposition, wouldn’t mind taking a bite. 

“I should mention as well, giants have an excellent sense of smell. Especially for tracking humans. You wouldn’t be able to run or hide, from me or anyone else. You’d be completely helpless.” 

I can plainly see how disturbed she is by this new information. She sighs, expelling all her exhaustion and swirling emotions in a puff that tickles my cheek. “Chester, let’s get some rest. We can figure out a solution tomorrow.” 

I blink away my tears and examine her with wonder. I’m amazed by how calm and level-headed she seems, even though she is obviously still afraid. She clearly understands that she’s stuck with me, with no way to leave my grasp. She has a remarkable inner strength and resiliency that I never would’ve imagined could come from such a weak prey animal. Come to think of it, she’s been listening to me without screaming or wetting her pants, so she must be strikingly brave too. I’m thoroughly impressed. She’s a better person than I could ever be. A fresh batch of tears springs from my eyes, making my image of her blur. 

“I’m so, so sorry for what I’ve done,” I whimper. The guilt shackles me to the floor with a dreadful weight. I want to sink into the carpet and disappear. 

What she says next leaves me genuinely gobsmacked. “I… I forgive you.” She gags on those difficult words, barely able to utter them with any sincerity, yet they flow over me in a healing deluge. I still feel heavy, but I’m not so paralyzed with humiliation and regret and remorse. The faintest spark of hope flickers in my core. The impossible has transpired: She forgave me. I can’t believe it. I relish the echo in my memory as I prepare for bed. I lay down and clutch Jackie tenderly to my chest, hoping for more. I hope that I can contain my voracity. I hope I can keep her safe. I hope we can persevere. I hope she won’t grow to hate me. 

I hope we can have a happy ending, rather than an abrupt and brutal conclusion. 

Chapter 5

[wiredaughter]

@augustwritingchallenge: guardian | @aug-kissed: trail of kisses

Selfish

explicit ♡ m/f ♡ possessiveness ♡ unreliable narrator ♡ abe sapien×ofc ♡ 1,914 words ♡ pwp ♡ porn with (repressed) feelings ♡ overstimulation ♡ ao3

Abraham’s skin is soft and firm under my hands, silky smooth even as it betrays the strength underneath. Very much like the man himself. Held down in my bed by nothing but my own body; about 180 pounds lighter than his own, and pliable in his pleasure in a way that takes nothing from the implicit threat of his physicality. On our feet, he’s got a whole foot and inches on me, but as I push him down where I need him that’s irrelevant. Almost irrelevant.

I tried to be mad, tried to act concerned as we returned from our mission. How come a practically immortal amphibian is about to kick it more often than a puny mortal like your girl, and how he doesn’t need to go along with the plan if the plan is stupid. Truth is I don’t know how to worry; I’ve got no future vision, complex forms of fear are something I left behind the first time I broke out of the government’s grasp, an ocean and what feels like a lifetime away.

Desire is something that eats at my chest with exponentially increasing appetite every day, and I desired him even before he came to, pale from shock and covered in enemy blood. Still, I can deduce a likely chain of events, and I know who I'm dealing with. All of Manning’s determination and Corrigan’s relatable facade translate to one simple truth: they'll kill him if it serves them.

It's that knowledge that’s like petrol to the wildfire of my want now, my small scarred hands pushing under his swimshorts, my shaking lying mouth trying to steal the secrets from his. It’s the voice that says I won't let them, won’t let him let them, that makes me break away from his cool, ever soft lips.

I say nothing, still got no words for my egoism and the way he's often exempt from it. He says nothing, breathing hard and blinking the gems he's got for eyes at me. I dig my nails, brittle and human, into his thighs and he bucks them into my touch. I want to push harder, to truly hurt someone invulnerable, but I know it's not what I really want so when he moves to kiss me again I give in. It's selfish, in a way, his willingness to deprive me of this in the name of the greater good. I kiss him like I worried, like I’d be lost without him. He lets me, whining on the back of his throat and into my mouth and his sharp teeth gnash against mine before I’m biting hard into his tongue because I want to hear more of it.

I move to his lower lip as he indulges me with the low, sweet sounds of his need. And how can he need to save the day more than he needs this? I kiss a trail down his sinewy, darling neck stopping to scrape my teeth against his gills as my fingers press small, fleeting bruises under his clothes. I’m panting on his chest grinding down against his thigh as his shorts ride up enough to let me rub a firm line down his cloaca, and he shivers with it, voice turning breathy and rising and he’s so wet when I enter him with my thumb, moving down to mouth at him through the fabric.

Abraham swears at the contact I keep up for a few moments more before he’s moving, always faster than I expect, to stop me when I make to pull apart long enough to get him naked. His grasp is solid; securing my left wrist in its place, my fingers in him, and in my hair so his eyes can burn their want into mine, as if expecting to find anything but its mirror. He blinks, surprised as usual at his own instinct, but I like it and I like it so much I lick a stripe as close as I can get to his opening where I’m held, and he’s letting go of me so I can, finally, see him.

Black looks good on him, makes the blue patterns even more vivid as I pull down on his shorts to stare at his cloaca, flushed and swelling with blood and aching for me. His hands fly to his mouth to stifle a moan when I rub my knuckles in circles along the edge, putting more pressure into it than I might had I not seen him get bodyslammed through a wall not two hours ago. I lean in, stopping with my mouth millimetres from where he needs it until he balls his fists into the duvet instead. And how I want them to hear this.

Every agent hanging around, everyone in command, everyone in this godforsaken country that thinks his life is expendable against the lives of millions. Devon with his suspicions and Manning’s attempts to pretend this isn’t happening and whoever else might think they’ve got a right to either ignore or comment on it. I stare straight into his dark eyes as I dive in with both pointer and middle fingers, pull his channel apart as it flutters and he makes to hide his face on his shoulder. I suck a bruise on his hipbone, then another lower, and another until there’s a path of violet-blue spots leading to where he’s pushing into my hands; embarrassment forgotten for the moment, his head hanging back and thighs shaking around me.

I press my mouth to him, pulling my hands away to feel the parted flesh beat against my lips, and he moans at it, gasping and hoarse. I lick into him, warmer than anyone would guess and overflowing with slick. He sobs outright with it, face flushed and gills fanning out, hips thrusting into my face like he thinks I can grow a tentacle of a tongue like him just because he wills it. I twist my own human tongue into him, pushing against his walls, and tighten my hold on his arse in a futile gesture; can’t hold him still more than I could a maelstrom, and my body ripples with every roll of his muscles, legs locked around me and chest arching up as he tears into yet another of my duvets with his claws.

I suck at his entrance spurred on by the sound of fabric ripping and he’s tight and shaking and heavenly around my tongue as he comes with a high keen that turns to low chittering when I don’t move away. His thighs fall from my shoulders, twitching as I push three fingers into him. He lets out a whining noise, allows me to push him on his side, one leg between mine and the other over my shoulder so I can see him take four fingers up to my palm. I groan at the image, cloaca puffy and spread; spasming around me, hips swaying mindlessly; getting his thigh to press against my labia just right, and my cries join his until he pushes up in an angle that’s probably painful for humans to kiss me, messy and heated and fucked out.

He cups my face with the hand he’s not using to hold himself up to tilt my face so he can explore my mouth as I rock down into him, before he’s pushing my tshirt up and his claws dig into my breasts just soft enough not to draw blood. But it’s blood I want, in a way, and so I tease my thumb along his rim, and he’s shaking so hard now I shake with it, and I apply the smallest amount of pressure which makes him twitch hard enough for him to break skin and he’s coming again and I am with him, falling forward into him and he has the decency to let himself be tackled back into bed.

He holds me close to him for a moment before realising I want up and letting me go. His face is lax and he’s looking at me with the serenity that comes from pleasure, now tinged with uncertainty. I straddle his hips, pressing small circles along his mons.

‘You don’t want to fuck me?’

He chokes out a cry when I get the right spot, and I rise on my knees to move back and see his tenta-cock pushing his sensitive cloaca open once again, making him whine at the ridges and I can’t help but think of the wanking sessions I’d have if I was like him. I can’t wait, and it’s only his hands on my trousers that remind me I need them off if I want him in me. I fumble my belt open, which is more than enough for him to push my waistband down to my knees. Abraham makes a clicking sound upon noticing I’ve, yet again, forgone underwear.

I lay him down, pulling off my top to let my breasts rest on his toned chest where his hands slide under my bra to fondle them, and his tentacle finds my pussy with no effort, sinking in as hungry for me as his cloaca is. He’s big and textured in me, twisting in a way that might be too much if I wasn’t permanently turned on for him. I clench around him, pushing my hips back into it, fingers digging bruises into his biceps. When I lean down to kiss him his mouth is pliant and open under mine, overstimulated past his ability to reciprocate in any meaningful way or too busy with the almost pained sounds that punch past it.

I don’t mind it, biting on his lips as he turns so he’s over me, hands squeezing my breasts together as he traces my nipples with his claws, still mindful of his strenght somehow, and I don’t even mind from how good it feels. I huff, twisting to one side for impulse before I’m rolling us over so I can ride him, as if you could ride the ocean. Whatever I do, his cock is prehensile enough to have a mind of its own and it’s the way I can’t anticipate what’s next combined with his hand coming to rub at my clit that makes me cry out my pleasure as I come, going so tight around him he feels even bigger as he pulses with his own release.

As much as I want to collapse down now, I want to see it even more. I arch back, leaning to see his tentacle slide out of me and back into him, and it’s so erotic I follow it with two fingers before his thighs clamp shut, trapping my hand between them as his walls pulse weakly around me. He sits up to grab my wrist before pulling me down with him in an embrace that feels way too secure for the lives we lead.

‘What’s gotten into you today?’

I look up at him, beautiful and vulnerable by his own principles, and everything I want and won’t let pesky moral judgements take from me. I nuzzle into his gills. ‘I want you to be selfish with your life. For my own sake.’

He says nothing, his arms around me holding me tight against his chest and I could stay here, for a while at least. In a fairer, better world I’d know I can stay here forever. His heart beats against mine, slowing down in sync, and this should be enough for now.

[hazbinextgeneration]

Demon Bride Ch10 All In A Name P3

(WARNINGS AND DISCLAIMERS!!! EVERYONE in this story is in their early 20s-30s! This story will contain mentions of past abuse and death! I'll be keeping it as SFW. Some backstories have been slightly altered for this particular story, and some characters cannonically dead or harmed is alive and well. I own nothing.

Credit to @flanelltees​ for the designs I based the demons off to look more demon-like with tails and pointed ears.

This story will be sfw, but there will be some blood, implied death, fighting, some gore mentioned, and a few other things that will be made aware by warnings. Pay attention to warnings at the top of any chapters just under the summery please.)

Once in the mountain villages it was a custom that once a year on the night of the new year's first moon, an unlucky young lady would be selected and left for the demons to become one of the unlucky few who married such a husband. In exchange for this offering the demons would protect the villages and leave the humans in peace. Until one day a powerful warrior drove the demons away freeing the humans of them. Now 2,000 years later, it's become a tradition that once a year, a new young lady would be picked and wait for her future husband to retrieve her from a shrine in the mountains. And now the lucky tradition would fall upon Y/n L/n. It would be her own turn to take on the tradition and not have to worry about demons. After all that part of the old tradition was just fake, made up by paranoid ancestors. Everyone knew demons didn't exist.

...Right?

(WARNINGS!!!:  Some cussing, Mentioning of reader's fractured leg, death/implied death, fighting which will include some wounds and mentioning of wounds and a demon's hand being cut off.  )  

First Part Here:

https://at.tumblr.com/hazbinextgeneration/demon-bride-ch-1-thus-it-begins/dibtpmvn5d42

Last Part Here:

https://www.tumblr.com/hazbinextgeneration/713597692878766080/demon-bride-ch9-all-in-a-name-p2?source=share

Next Part Here:

https://www.tumblr.com/hazbinextgeneration/716769330504876033/demon-bride-ch11-interluding?source=share

Quiet night. Unholy night of beasts. Feasting their sights upon the stray women who dare stay out at night when the full moon rises, lighting the pathway for the beasts to claim their prey. Gnashing teeth, snarling fangs waiting to take a bite into innocent flesh where the terrible claws miss. Waiting to snatch you away down into their dark abyss never to return.

The bark of trees felt rough against the palm of grey skin, perfect to blending into shadows and walking along the darkness of the cursed trees that beckoned any unknowing traveler further into their branches. A light step. Another light step. Light enough to not be heard by anyone my dear. A quiet mouse amongst the darkness a contrast to the many others in the surroundings. Many preferred brute force by tooth and nail, fang and claw to drag off their unwilling prey in the name of twisted love they've come to claim or give. Ears perked just now hearing the far off wails that sounded like some sick love sick beasts. A whoop of triumph from the lungs of some lucky beasts who was able to stake a claim on some poor soul that accepted their twisted gift of love. Dark black claws dug into the harsh bark of the thick plant that would otherwise not feel the pain it would usually cause another living thing. An aura of annoyance flooding forth from the source of the claws, and the darkness only received a scoff, as blue eyes as dangerous as the bottomless ocean looked up towards the sky, towards the source of the happy wails from far into the trees' abyss of darkness.

"Tch. Dam fools. They act like dogs in heat! The lot of them!" A voice. As rough as it was envious. The idiots. No brains at all. Now all that celebrating would do was attract others towards him in wanting to fight him for the claimed prize he just received. He knew that was the case entirely because many a shadowy beasts was already flocking towards that noise. "They have no dam senses to them!"

Fools. All of them fools. They should've quietly snuck away when they had the chance. But then again he couldn't expect any of them to be close to the intelligence he held. Whatever. He wasn't out here to watch the rabid fighting of fools, as entertaining as it was to watch others rip either apart. No. He had something else long thought over he wanted to be done with. And it all started with the wind. And the air filling his lungs. And a sweet scent that wafted within both.

Huh....That was different. Not one he was often met with, but one he was familiar with.

One he liked very much.

But why would one such as this be this close to the forbidden areas?...Unless someone carried it with them. Either way it was something that had gained his attention, and even if it was nothing, there might be fun had in seeing why this was there. And so light steps approached the direction of the scent, back against the few remaining lights of the setting sun. Step after step as the scent grew stronger and the forest less dense around him which was the more interesting part to it. It was the more confusing part of all about it really. After all-

"No peaches should be this dam close."

He recognized that scent now. It was one he often craved and made his mouth water, but one thing he could barely have as it was out of bounds of the forest line. Often he could catch the faintest of their scent from further down the mountain where he was sure a plethora of them grew, but he could never see for himself. But sometimes on rare occasions he worked hard enough to please his master, he would be rewarded with the succulent fruits of his labor. The soft fruit being devoured within seconds before being missed again. Perhaps it was someone else who had gotten their claws on them? If so he'd cut them down and take what he wanted as a prize for disobeying the one law no one shall disobey without permission from the Master. And he would rectify it. Then maybe he'd be rewarded with more fruits for his loyalty. The thought excited him. Maybe this night wouldn't be such a dull fest after all. The scent lead until the tree line forbiddily broke and it left him standing there cloaked in darkness as the last few rays of sunset left the world, and saw nothing. After just a moment of standing against the wind he cursed himself for being stupid enough to even entertain the goose chase that was this night. He cursed this night, and his luck and the stupid hope of rewards. He would've turned around and disappeared back into the shadows if it weren't for one thing that made him pause in his actions.

A ghost in the night.

A white shining in the dark up the pathway that lead away which lead the sweet scent of fruit with it. Odd. What was that? He hadn't see something like that before. Not around here and especially not at night, but there was visibly something there. Alive and moving within the moonlight. Well, well. Now what was this he wondered? His curiosity got the better of him. After all he did have nothing better to do than to follow from the shadows and get close enough to see what exactly this strange new oddity was. And the end result was what surprised him the most. The white movable object was indeed a living being, not a ghost or figment of the light like he suspected. But...it was not an animal either which was what both confused him more. It was a woman. No older than him, maybe by just a year or two in her early twenties, judging by how young and beautiful her form looked. This was...intriguing. And quite the interest. It was-..

"Human."

This was not a topic lost on him. He heard many tales of the humans from his Master's engagements with them and Douma's countless rambles (that often gave him headaches-) and he had even seen one although rarely if ever. Master's wife was human. Their child was human. He sometimes saw them when the Master made mandatory meetings or surprise inspections. The woman was...Kind. He was indifferent about the Master's choice in mate, as he didn't know her enough to have an opinion other than she was a lovely woman in appearance. And sometimes if he walked near the edge of the forest at the right time, he'd see humans traveling along the roads but he could never get this close or ever saw a sight stranger than a long young human woman walking by herself at night, especially tonight of all nights. Unless she-... No. It couldn't be. A-...

"An offering?"

A tempting. Young offering of scents that caught his interest and tempted him enough to follow. Yes. A nice offering for a nice night. Oh how the tides have turned in his interest. He began following this 'ghost in the night' half out of interest to the sweet and half out of boredom as there has really been nothing interesting happening tonight that Akaza wasn't able to (annoyingly) handle himself by getting there before he did. And he wouldn't be judged surely if he was just checking out this seemingly random traveler walking about at night none the less. It was highly stranger and maybe even suspicious, so he set off silently following the lost looking human woman wondering the paths. He only assumed she was lost as she shivered against the night's wind and dug her hands harder against the strap of your bag. Every so often she'd whip her head around wide eyed and looked directly at him, but because he was cloaked in darkness so well she never saw him, and only shook her head and continued walking on. It amused him slightly that she couldn't blatantly see him looking right dead at her, but what was to be expected from a human?....He had to admit though.

She WAS cute.

Soft looking skin. Neatly dressed clothes. Pretty f/c hair. And gentle looking f/c eyes. And a simple look that all humans seemed to have. Or at least what he's heard of.

Akaza spoke often of a woman's beauty seriously and showed great disgust towards some specific colleges of theirs who agreed with his statement but in a perverted way. Honestly he couldn't be bothered to think about such things too much. That foolish thinking would only hold him back! Hender his training! And such a thing would make him look pathetically weak!! And he HATED being weak. Plus women were annoying! That was a literal fact! Every YEAR he had to break up countless fights, taking up so much of his time, and waste his time when the same thing happened all over again two seconds later once his back was turned! The women he helped weren't even grateful just fleeing or getting angry that he dared interrupt a fight over HER and sometimes attacked himself. Ugh! Nothing about them was 'cute'. Especially that Daki woman! She had her brother practically wrapped around her finger, when they weren't arguing that is, and she was as bratty and vain as they come! And Susamaru- OH! Don't get him started on that piece of work! She was always so annoying just throwing her toy balls everywhere trailed by Yahaba who did nothing to stop her! And girls always made men go nuts! Lose all sense of thought! No. No. He was always better off without them. The only one he sort of liked was Nakime because she was serious and non nonsense like his Sensei. Other than that, he could care less about them!!

....But on the other hand-

The Master's wife was...gentle. Kind. Softer than anyone else he's ever met. She was...quite a contrast to the Master in both looks and personality, and he'd be lying if he didn't say he wasn't once envious of him for having a beautiful wife like her. Ever since the Master met and married his wife a few years back he had been more...lenient. Not very much, but it that woman's impact certainly saved himself from a few harsher punishments he would've received otherwise if she hadn't impacted the Master's life. So whatever impact she had on him, it made a noticeable difference (sometimes).  So maybe human women had some kind of talent he wasn't aware of. However this human woman seemed quite pathetic.

At one point she passed by a fork in the road and went deeper into the mountain until she stopped sometime in the early night and looked lost. Well what was he expecting? Humans had zero night vision. But at one point she pulled out what he assumed to be a map and looked over it. At least she had enough smarts to do that. The wind was still blowing however, and it wasn't long until the map was blown from her hands, into the woods, and like an idiot!! She ran right after it. Into the forest.

The forest filled with demons hunting for a mate desperately. The forest no one was allowed in. The forest which HE was supposed to make sure no one entered.

.......Oh Crap-

Ohcrapohcrapohcrapohcrap-

OH CRAP!!

"Shit!"

He was going to be in SO much trouble!! He'd be punished worse than the time he accidentally sliced his Sensei's ponytail off!! She wasn't supposed to be in here! Stupid humans! Ok. Remain calm. No matter. All he had to do was literally grab and toss her back out before anyone knew! Yeah! Easy peasy. No one would even know, and he'd avoid being in any trouble! He'd even scare her just to make sure she didn't get any ideas of coming back! It would be as easy as hunting a blind deer! Nothing he couldn't handle! After all it was just one simple human.

....Oh how his problems loved to get bigger.

Because he didn't find her at all. Not at first at least. He followed her scent but he couldn't pinpoint her exactly which was starting to get him worried. Maybe he HAD been just seeing things from being overworked or bored to death. That was until he heard a scream. A very loud, high pitched, woman's scream! That had him snapping his head up against the wind in the direction of where it echoed out from, which was followed by a second just as scared shriek just moments later. Which could only mean one thing and he was dreading it-

"SHIT!!"

Some idiot HAD ended up finding that human! If she wasn't tossed out of here, it'd be his head! He was thankful for the extra speed training his sensei made him do, strengthening his legs and lungs in order to handle more speed and get to places faster. He still had a long way to go before he matched the speed of someone like Akaza, but it should be enough to get done what he needed to get done. And then he ended up smelling it again. That unmistakable sweet scent of fruit. That must've been the human because he only smelt this fruit when he was watching the human anyways. The wind and branches creaked past his black body darting between the grabbing branches and wind that howled with laughter seeming to taunt him for his blunder. Made him snarl and grit his fangs harder. Dammit! He followed that sweet scent until he skidded to a stop, a small cloud of dirt falling up from his feet sliding into place in the black dirt, came to a small cluster of dark trees only to find..nothing. Not a soul. But the scent was all over the small place, along with one other which smelt foul. Another male. And he could see an imprint in the dirt, as if something large fell from someplace high above. Dammit! Was the human attacked by an ambush? He wasn't sure. All that he knew was that she got away because the sweet scent was faintly head off into the west direction, and the foul smell followed, which obviously indicated a chase was given. Ah! F his life! This was going to be a long night! But none the less he growled and just ended up sprinting again after them. Dam human! Dam season! DAM ALL OF THIS!!! He was about ready to cut someone in half!! The wind was blowing away most of the already faint peach scent but he was lucky enough to be graced with yet another girly shriek of terror from just up ahead. Good. That was close. REAL CLOSE!! If fact, it was so close, he could hear a voice already-

"Stupid woman! SHUT UP!," a man's voice bellowed out, "Are you trying to alert others!? Dammit! You'll be a terrible mother."

Dark tree past dark tree. Weaving past darkness and limbs and lungs heavy with air whirled around by the wind. The vision appeared of a small innocent white ghost of the night and a sin daring to attempt to snuff it out for it's own needs. The trees couldn't hide that from him. Adrenaline pumping. Viens bunching up as a black tsuka of a katanna was grabbed, burnt to the touch as the rumbling of thunder was parting the whirling, taunting, laughing wind to make way for an electrical storm that bubbled through his blood vessels and gave the needed power to metal to become the lightning strike that shook the scene before him.

"Stop struggling! It's futile! There's no escape-"

SHING!!

A metal sound. A shine of silver in the dark. A dash of shadow. And a strike of thunder.

It all happened too fast and too dark for her mind to comprehend what happened. All that she knew was that one moment she were pinned against a tree and the next dropped to the ground like a rock, landing with a loud thud. A loud inhuman half screech half animal cry pierced the air and crimson liquid splattered across the dark. The cry echoed across the darkness, and was cut short when a powerful foot kicked out and struck the handless demon in the chest, knocking him back. And his form went flying back into the darkness only to be swallowed again and disappear, the red trailing after him, the only sounds to be heard was broken branches and then a loud thud and then the silence resumed once more.

"Dam idiots."

He stood there. Snarling. Staring off in the direction of the body he had just kicked away. Wasn't enough to kill, he could've easily crushed his chest on the spot but chose not too. For many reasons. He was here to retrieve not instigate a fight. He'd be in more trouble if he just started a fight, and he didn't need more trouble. He just needed to fix this situation before anyone else found out about a human woman stupidly bumbling her way in here especially when he was watching her! That wouldn't do him any good. If that insect knew what was good for him, he'd tuck his tail between his legs and run. After all, he was merciful enough to let him off with a warning. He could regenerate his hand easily and he doubted that kick did any real harm, maybe he'd be sore from falling back but he'd be-

Another shriek rang out from behind him. Causing him to snap his attention back to the thing he came here for.

In a flash her body reacted, scrambling away from the severed hand that just laid limply and crawling back on her hands and feet clumsily until her back hit a tree, breathing heavily. Ah right. He supposed that would've scared someone like her who never saw combat. Simple minded creatures, weren't they? He just rolled his eyes and turned his body to her, but the movement made the human freeze...before she slowly looked over and up at him, and she froze jaw dropping open. Hey now. He didn't think he was that horrendous looking! By demon standards, he was drop dead handsome! But then it clicked that she wasn't looking at his face, it was the long sword he still had unsheathed. A small slap sound came from her when her hand slapped over her mouth. Was she afraid he'd cut her down as well? That was ridiculous. He'd be more trouble if she was killed by him verses if he just tossed her out! Like he suspected. Simple minded. Let's just get this over with.

In a small rapid session his fangs clacked together enough to get her to look at him. "Hey! Get the hell up!"

He thought he made himself loud and clear, anyone else would perfectly understand what he just said. But instead she gave him the same looked he'd give the Master if he was in trouble. Pale. Terrified. Jaw dropped. And f/c eyes wide in terror at what she was seeing. Oh come now. He knew he was intimidating, but he hasn't even made a move to harm her! Although..her...Her face was actually kinda cute now that he was able to see it up close. Soft skinned. Pretty eyes reflective at him. It didn't have any demonic features like extra eyes or horns. And her f/c hair falling down her legs framing her face in a nice contrast to the white bridal gown she wor-

....Oh..Oh! ...OH!!

Like a flash of lightning in a storm, it all flashed across his mind now. Oh. A...bride. A human bride. It was a human offering. Oh. ...Well this was awkward. There hadn't been one of these since the mountain drought two hundred years ago. Back then, the humans thought sending a young lady in 'sacrifice' would cause some divine intervention from the demons to end the drought. Spoiler alert!! It did indeed NOT do that, and instead the poor human ended up getting taken by Douma to join his cult. No one ever heard anything about her since, and the drought continued on for another five years until mother nature sorted itself out. Of course this was before he was a part of the Twelve Kizuki so he actually never seen a 'Demon Bride' other than the Master's wife, so this situation was..Rather surprising to him.

The both of them stared at each other for a moment, before he opened his mouth revealing a mouthful of fangs and she flinched before he clattered them together in a rapid session to make the same clattering noise as before, before his face changed to look like he was straining his cheeks and a small shrill-grunt sound left his mouth.

"Get the hell up! Tell me why you're here!", he demanded and tilted his head expectantly at her terrified form. She still said nothing and it annoyed him. Great! Was she that scared?...Or maybe- Don't tell him you didn't understand what he just said! He grunted and rolled his eyes. "Not fluent in that, huh?" he spoke in human making her blink. "Figures you wouldn't be." He scoffed with another eye roll before bringing up his sword to inspect. And he scowled at the blood on it. It would have to be cleaned and polished later. "Disgusting pigs!" He harshly gave the blade one harsh shake to knock what droplet he could off, twirled it around with a wrist movement and aimed the blade to be returned to the sheath covered by his cloak. "So did I cut you or what?" She could only let her bottom lip quiver in response as she made some kind of squeak noise making him sigh in annoyance. "You gonna make me repeat myself? You humans are pathetic." She finally seemed to regain some sense as he scowled at her. "Hey, Human! Did I cut you or what!?'' She flinched pulling her hands to herself before frantically shaking her head no making him snort. "Good. Didn't think I did anyways, my skills are too precise for that."

She didn't answer. Instead doing something that made him pause. So taking a shaking hand, she pulled it back and slapped herself across the cheek making him just stare at her. By gods. Had she really HAD gone crazy!?

"The hell? Did that weakling hit your head too hard or something!?"

She hissed hand rubbing her sore cheek. "....This h-h-has got to b-b-be a n-nightmare..." She spoke barely above a whisper, but he still heard her voice.

"Tch. Unless you ran into Enmu, I highly doubt we're in one," he bluntly answered which made her flinch and look at him again. "But I've been trailing you this entire time so I know we didn't. Which begs the question." She yelped as he suddenly squatted and pushed his face into hers making it to where she were forced to stare into his angry scowl. "Who the hell are you!? You're not one of the humans brought in from the train! And you don't belong to Douma, you don't have his scent on you." His tail gave an annoyed thrash behind him. "So are you a trespasser or what!?"

"NO!!", she suddenly blurted out in fear. "I-I WAS JUST F-F-FOLLOWING THE MAP IS AL-ALL!!"

A thick brow rose higher, but he hummed. Yes..he had seen her with a map. "You were just following the map?" He asked again and terrified, she nodded making him hum again. "And then let me guess. You accidentally got lost on your way through here?"

She nodded again. "Y-YES!! That's r-r-right! I was!"

"Well why the hell were you not paying attention!? Any human should know once they're sent in that they need to be on the look out for scum like that!" He gestured at the ground like it should've been obvious. It was totally obvious for any bride to be thrusted in here that she should be careful for weaklings like the one he just trashed!! Didn't she even think of that!? She didn't answer and it made him growl before reaching up a hand to rub at his temples. Humans...This is why he never interacted with them outside of the Master's family. "Doesn't matter." The hand moved and he bore back into you. "I only spared your life because I wanted answers, otherwise I would have left you for whatever fucking scum to claim."

Screw this night AND this job! But...he wasn't sure what to do about this situation now. Now he knew she weren't a trespasser perse if she were sent to be an offering. Should he still throw her out? Can he throw her out while she was an offering? Was she allowed in here now or should he still toss her out? This situation was too new and complicated for him to figure out...He'd take her to Kyogai. Yes. Kyogai was the record keeper. If there was any laws for this kind of situation then he would definitely know about it! BUT-..If he was going through all this trouble to save an offering then he was going to make this worth his time! And right now he was very interested in that strong sweet smell, and her dowry. All brides these days had one to impress males if they wished to court instead.

"So before I leave your sorry ass, let me see your dowry."

Silence continued on. He stared at her expectantly. She stared at him silently wide eyed. Nothing answered them both except for the wind and creaking branches. ....And then he scowled.

"W-What-"

"Your dowry! Let me see your dowry! What do you have to offer me!?," he practically shouted at her face before giving a grunt of annoyance pointing at her bag. "In there! Gods above! Do I have to repeat everything to you!?"

She slowly rose a brow at him. "You want the-...A return payment?"

"Dowry! Payment! Offering! What ever the hell you people call it! Just give it to me! I know every human in your situation has one to give if they travel through here!"

"I-...I-I have no money." He seemed to exhale annoyed at her response. "B-B-But I ha-have these!"

He watched intently as her hands reached over, trembling harder, to her bag and he watched every moment intently. She reached to her bag, and pulled the top flap back with one hand, in an instant the sweet-sugary scent he'd been following this whole time intensified and she nearly flinched when you saw the way his eyes enlarged like a cat's when they saw a mouse. Instead she ever so slowly reached into the bag and pulled out a peice of cloth tied with a knot at the top, shaped lumpy with some visibly round objects. It was brought up to the monster held out, and his gaze was fully focused on it. He knew EXACTLY what was in that cloth before she even answered him again. His mouth instantly watered and his tongue flicked the inside of his fangs.

Peaches.

"H-Here. F-For you." She forced herself to smile.

He gave just the tiniest glance at her smile before he reacted in his own desires, her arm froze as the cloth was instantly snatched from herr hand and soon found itself within his claws, who didn't waste any time shredding through the cloth instead of just undoing the knot leaving the shreds to slowly float to the ground from his hands and inside amongst the shredded cloth in his hands was three small pieces of fruit. The small heart shaped pieces were cute looking in contrast to the clawed hands that held them, a pretty pink that faded to a yellow-tan color near the bottom. Not a blemish on them. Perfect. Sweet. And a delicacy to the tongue. He hadn't had them in so long...he couldn't even remember the last time he had one! He seemed almost in a trance as he stared at the perfect round things, savoring the sight just a bit longer to remember this moment by, before he could no longer resist the temptations. She flinched as a few peach juice droplets splashed against your hands and blinked. He had revealed his mouthful of fangs and bit through half of one peach with one bite, some pieces of the fruit falling to the ground. He exhaled slowly through his nose and his shoulders visibly relaxed. One more bite made the rest of the fruit disappear into his mouth like he was terribly hungry, then the second one followed the same fate as the first, gone in under a minute in two bites. It was by the third one that he even bothered to look at her again after all this time, where she had remained unmoving too. Was she still scared of him? Or was she waiting to see if he'd pick her for his own mate? Psh. Yeah right. As if he'd do that-...

Hm. On second thought. Maybe there was perks to having a human around-

After a moment he bothered to hum, arm reaching up to wipe at his mouth before he stood. "Not really a good dowry. Dam pathetic really." The last peach was tossed up and down in one hand. "The bare fucking minimum of expectations." Blue eyes carefully rolled over her form studying. She wasn't the worst looking. Infact it was an upgrade from most women he'd seen. ..Eh. She wasn't like the Master's wife, but her body looked strong and sturdy, and his senses indicated she was young and healthy. Early twenties tops....She might make a good servant. He hummed and then nodded. He'd check in with Kyogai first and make his choice from there. "But lucky for you, I'm feeling generous tonight. Hmph! You should be thankful!"

"S-So...Y-You're not going to hurt me?"

"If I wanted to hurt you, I would've struck you down the moment you stepped passed the tree line! Now stand up! We're leaving!"

She blinked.... "Leaving?"

He gestured at the dark. "Would you like me to leave you lost, alone, and in the dead of night where others are sure to find you?" He paused at what he said himself, because he hummed and turned his head upwards. She screamed quite a few times. Surely someone would've heard her, in fact someone might be coming towards them this moment. "With how much you stupidly screamed, I don't doubt others are already on their way here now." He growled with a scowl. "The bastards. Fighting like rats over a scrap of meat."

"N-NO!" He looked back to her as she forced herself on wobbling feet to stand before him. "I-I don't want to stay here! P-Please show me the way."

He seemed pleased with her answer because he huffed and one side of his mouth curled up in a smile. "That's more like it. If you're gonna be around me you need to step up your think-"

He didn't get to finish that sentence. In fact...He didn't get to even stand when a large hunk of branch flew past at lightning speed, and slammed right into the his side with a sickening crack sound. Wind flew past her from the sheer force of the throw, and the black robed demon was sent flying to the right and into a heap several yards away from where he initially stood. She stood frozen for a moment, the sight being too fast to comprehend what exactly had just happened. Then a horribly familiar voice spoke.

"Hands off the female! She's MY claim!!"

Her head snapped around, and she again shrieked as the insect-eyed demon has returned, hands fully intact and fangs bared towards the sight of another one of his kind as she stumbled back, eyes wide. A creaking sound was herd somewhere behind her followed by a loud thud and a deeper growl that reverberated off the wind and trees as a hiss sound escaped a black mass pushing themselves off the ground with many bone cracks and hissing noises until dangerously blue eyes cut through the dark right at the other.

"Dammed fools! You dare attack one of the Twelve Kizuki!?"

"I couldn't give a dam who you are! I staked my claim first! By law she's mine!"

And with that, he charged. She shrieked and ducked, arms coming to shield her head from the upcoming lunge but a black mass lunged faster, knocking the first one back into the trees as the two monsters rolled off. Something snapped within him. Perhaps it was all the pent up annoyance and anger at being challenged despite his rank. A whirlwind of claws and teeth they became. Crashing through tree branches, cutting one another, biting, each drawing blood from the other but he was stronger! He was faster!

He was superior!

So it wasn't very long that his opponent laid defeated. Silenced. Dead.

It wasn't a very long battle. Lasting under ten minutes. His wounds would heal within an hour or two. And he couldn't be in trouble for this, right? Surely he couldn't. Someone dared to challenge a Twelve Kizuki to battle and lost. Happened sometimes. And he had a right to fight since he insisted on fighting over the woman he still had unfinished business with. So he shouldn't be punished harshly for this. Although the fight was over, that did not stop his rage. For when he returned to claim what he had fought over, it was gone.

A piercing raged wail went through the night.

He couldn't believe this!! Did another one claim her while he was busy?! No. no. Couldn't have. He would've heard her shriek again. So that pathetic human must've taken the distraction and ran when he wasn't looking! DAMMIT!! And not only that-...

HIS LAST PEACH HAD BEEN CRUSHED IN THE FIGHT BEFORE HE COULD EVEN EAT IT!!!

He was angry! He was very, VERY ANGRY!! And he had to spend the rest of that night scrambling around trying to find this human, distracting him from his usual duties, and the scent going cold amongst the wind and other scents in the dam place! But now he was going to get in (maybe) trouble and won't get anything out of it.

....Oh so he thought.

One day went by.  Absolutely nothing. He was bitter, angry, and could do nothing but go back to do his own duties. Hopefully no one would notice or care about what happened. Everyone seemed too busy to pay him any mind anyways. Too busy struck by love-syndrome to really ever pay attention to himself. Which what he preferred anyways? It was best to leave him alone during these times anyways.

Two days go by and most of the bitterness had faded away, but he was still annoyed, stewing in the leftover bitterness that was attained from yesterday. Although an unexpected event happened, and it all happened as he was traveling along the Eastern tree line mindlessly. A very strong, and very important presence. Calling to him.

STRUM!

A forced pushed the back of his mind making him stumble in his step from how sudden it was. Like a mental rock was suddenly thrown on his shoulders, and it's weight made him lurch forward in real life, stumbling and throwing his arms out to catch himself against a tree. A feeling deep inside like something pulling his soul into a different box was tugging at his mind and it made him blink in confusion for a moment.

"What the fu-"

STRUM!!

His mind was pulled into a calling. It was like his conscious became thinned, light as air, and as nimble as a snake slithering through the lines of connection between himself and the bonds the Master's blood allowed them all to have. If he had one way of describing it, he would say it felt and looked like a tree rooted into their minds, different branches that were never the same but still connected to the same trunk in the end sharing the same deepened roots. The mind thread slithered ever closer to the thing that pulled and pulled and pulled him until he felt himself connecting to two others before him in this web of connections. He was thrown for a loop for a moment, but he quickly understood where he was and why he was here. One of the Twelve Kizuki wished him here, and the one responsible for bringing him here was just above him sitting silently. Upper Moon Five, Nakime, the one responsible for all transportation within this hivemind of threads. He reached out to that small thread sending a questioning thought for why she brought him here on such short notice. In return a thrum of an instrument vibrated within the wave lengths in return, and a mental arrow pointed to the third presence with them. And he followed her pointing. Who could it be who called him? Sensei Kokushibo? It wasn't the Master. The presence wasn't intimidating to him in the least.

"Kaigaku. I'm glad you answered my calling."

Kyogai!? What the hell could that lower moon want with him!? Especially now!? "What do you want!? I'm busy!"

He thought he heard Kyogai mentally sigh."I have something to ask you concerning some events which occurred last night."

"WHAT!?"

"Last night two intruders broke into my home."

"And? It's not my fault most of your staff are girls! You deal with your own territory and don't cry to me about not being able to do your job! If you want me to scare some dam idiots into submission, you can wait until I'm done!"

"You not doing your job is precisely my point! One of the dam insects claimed they were chasing a human bride through the woods!" The anger in the other presence fell silent. What did Kyogai just say? Human bride? In his home? "It's YOUR job to patrol the east side of the mountain and make sure no strangers enter or any demons leave the forest to that side of the mountain! Clearly you aren't doing your job good enough!"

There was silence for a few seconds as the younger presence thought on what he said. "You have the human?"

"I have no human!  DO. YOUR. DAM. JOB!! NEXT TIME SOMETHING LIKE THIS HAPPENS I'M REPORTING YOUR MESS UP TO KOKUSHIBO AND THE MASTER!! DO NOT LET SOMETHING LIKE THIS HAPPEN AGAIN! CONSIDER THIS YOUR ONLY WARNING!! Nakime, I am done with this message."

"NO! WAI-"

STRUM!!

The connection of the two wavelengths were cut off with a harsh strum of a bawa string, like a knife through hot butter, and there was a slight pain from the severed connection. He was thrown forward fast and with a gasp of air, was released from the wavelengths harshly without warning, ended up colliding face first into the tree he previously grabbed and slid down it to his knees coughing from the air knocked from his lungs. But he allowed the sweet silence to cascade over his body as he breathed. And there was silence. ....before a growl escaped his throat and bark splintered under his fingernails as blue eyes narrowed.

"Kyogai."

That was how he found himself in front of the infamous mansion throwing open the front door and making the sound spook any servant that was close enough to see his angered form stomp his way inside. This wasn't his first time here. Not by a longshot. He'd seek shelter here many a times before since it was so close to where he patrolled so it was very convenient for him, so much so that the older demon who ruled this home had been kind enough to give him his own room whenever he dropped by. Those whom saw him instantly bowed as his form stomped past them all one footfall after another.

"Lord Kaigaku. Good afternoon to you," one woman greeted with a bow but he ignored her in favor of stomping forward.

Further and further into the mansion he went, many servants bowing to the young lord but he paid them no attention. The scents around here all mixed with various different demons, but mostly Kyogai's. Kyogai was much more powerful compared to them all, so of course most of everything in here smelt of him. There was also the faint smell of blood. ...So Kyogai wasn't lying about intruders walking into his home. Which only made him more suspicious. Nothing really seemed out of place until he turned one corner in the mansion and paused.

"Found you."

And he stomped towards the smell. The very familiar smell he remembered from two nights ago. The very one he'd been trying to find these last two days was here, and he sure as hell wasn't letting her get off that easily. He quickened his pace speed walking through hallway after hallway ignoring the sudden bowing demons or any demons that were thrown his way, after one thing in particular. It got stronger and stronger and he was eventually able to pinpoint it to one room behind one door in particular. Heavy and quick footsteps went right up to the sliding door, his hand reaching out to grab it hard enough that some claw marks were  left behind by his claws and in one fluid, powerful motion he threw the door back hard enough to made a loud slam echo through the halls.

SLAM!!

There was a loud gasp, almost shriek at the sudden door open, and a woman whipped her head to him. F/c eyes met blue and he let a growl come out of his throat.

"It's about dam time I fucking found you."

**********************************************************************

You leaned back in the chair blissfully unaware of the approaching footsteps stomping their way towards your room. It had been a little while since Eri had left and left you just sitting there with nothing to do but keep your hurt leg submerged in the cold bucket of water. There was literally nothing you could do to keep yourself entertained other than to day dream of everything you wanted to do once you got out of here with your newfound freedom. Maybe that's why you didn't hear the stomping coming straight towards your room-

STOMP. STOMP. STOMP. STOMP-

Or the door being grabbed hard enough to leave claw indents in them.

SLAM!!

Making you gasp and whip your head to the thundering storm looming in the doorway only to meet blue eyes.

"It's about dam time I fucking found you."

You almost shrieked upon first laying eyes upon the demon who just barged into your room. Mostly because the entrance he gave scared you but you nearly shrieked again when the menacing form stepped in. Until you paused...and just stared at him. The demon didn't look much older than yourself, wearing a scowl on his face but not a dangerous scowl that said 'I'm going to murder you'. It was more of a really, really annoyed scowl like the ones Sanemi used to wear. Still made you nervous, but not to the point where you felt in danger. You watched with wide eyes as he stomped until he stood directly in front of you with that scowl of his, staring you down. His black cloaks looked torn and dirtied on him and here and there was small dirt smudged on his gray skin.

Wait a second. You knew this demon, but where did you see him?

You jumped as a black claw was suddenly pointed at your face. "Do you know how foolish you made me look defending you from that dam parasite!? I could have been killed for all you knew and you had the gall to leave without seeing if I died!!"

Oh right. He was the one who initially saved you from that first demon! You'd forgotten him up until this point. In the light he was a lot less intimidating.

"I should've left you to be made into someone's housewife than waste my time wi-"

"Are you alright?''

He paused. You stared at him concerned. He just stared back at you blankly for a moment. "...What?"He shook his head. "Of course I'm-"

He froze when your hand just grabbed his own and yanked. And he leaned forward, the surprising action catching him off guard. Especially when he felt something soft reached up and touch his face. And he just stood there as you squinted your eyes at him. One hand on his cheek, the other firmly around his left wrist as you took the chance to look over him. Despite his dirtied and ragged looking clothes, he seemed to be completely fine other than being angry, but you'd seen scarier. From Sanemi no less. Your eyes wondered over him and seemed satisfied to not see any damage to his body, so you released his wrist and face despite him staying stunned leaned over.

"I'm glad you're ok. That sounded like a bad fight you got into, and I'm sorry you had to go through that for my sake." Just apologize now and get it over with. You didn't want to owe anyone anything after you left here, including apologies, and he did have a point as much as you'd hate to admit it. He did spare you from that vulgar insect-eyed demon you first ran into and got in the way when it lunged back at you. Just remain calm. Everything would be fine if you just remained calm. It was then you bowed while still sitting in the chair which hindered your movement, but you did still bow to the best of your abilities. "I thank you for all the help and kindness you've shown me, and I apologize again for running off. I was scared and lucky to be alive." You then looked back up to his face. "And I'm not lying when I say I do hope you're ok. I'd hate for anyone else to get hurt because of me." And you were genuine with what you said. "Are you sure you're alright?"

The demon above you just-....Dumbfoundedly stared down at you. As if he lost all ability to think and act for himself. And ever patient you just continued to stare back silently at him. In total silence. Until you smiled to break the awkward silent tension and that small gesture finally seemed to snap him out of it because he blinked...before scowling and ripping his body away from you.

He opened his mouth and pointed at you...before closing his mouth and just growling before turning his head away. "I'm fine! Like I would allow myself to be hurt by someone beneath me! And you should be grateful to me! I could've left you to be taken by predators!"

You chose to not argue with him and honestly you didn't have the energy to deal with another Sanemi-like tantrum on top of your leg being hurt. If a small compromise of your pride meant peace, then it'd be better in the long run. Although you were not planning on seeing this demon again so soon.

"Whatever you say, but what are you doing here?" He turned slightly and cocked a thick brow at your question, a hum escaping his throat. "I wasn't expecting to ever see you again no offense, so why are you here now?"

He stared at you like you were dumb before scowling harder. "Are you dense!? I came here for you, Moron!"

Your brow rose now. "Me? Now why would you want to find me?"

"Because I need to toss you out! THAT'S WHY!!" A hand pointed a thumb behind his shoulder with a small growl from his throat. "If you hadn't come in here, I wouldn't be at risk for being punished! Who knows what'll happen to me if I don't make you leave!! Now get up!" He demanded with a 'come on' gesture. "You've plagued my existence long enough!" You...did not get up and only stared at him. "Well what are you waiting for!? I said GET UP!!"

"I can't."

"Why not!?"

"My leg was injured. That's why!" You frowned and gestured to your leg which still was dunked in the bucket of cold water. "I can't even stand let alone walk! Exactly how do you expect me to follow you out of here?"

He looked down at your leg, blinking as it just seemed to dawn on him that indeed your leg was in an awkward position. "What the hell- What are you doing sticking your leg in a fucking pail of water?"

"Trying to get the swelling to go down. The water's ice cold!," you deadpanned back at him he seemed to be annoyed again as he looked from your leg back to your face. "What? It's not my fault. One of those stupid monsters hurt me!"

"OH FOR FUCKS SAKE!!" At this point he threw his arms up looking both defeated and frustrated. "FINE!! Then I'll just take you to the human settlements Douma runs! One of them must have a healer! I am NOT getting in trouble for someone else harming a human!"

"I don't think that's a good ide-AH!!"

He didn't give you any warnings with two black sleeved arms just shoved themselves behind your back and under your knees before you were just roughly lifted up into a bridal style position in his arms. The bucket of water nearly spilling over from your sudden lift off via the demon who held you in his arms frustrated. On instinct your hands latched onto the front of his blackened robes which made him look down at you for a moment, taking in your wide eyed stare back up at him..Before he just wrenched his look away and turn you both around towards the door.

"W-WAIT!! I don't think this is a good idea! You could get in trouble more!"

He scoffed with an eye roll. "Oh, please. Who would stop me?"

"KAIGAKU!!!"

Your head snapped back to the still open door and the demon bristled. Muscles going rigid as an 'Oh crap-' expression flashed across his face, and then the footsteps, hurried and heavy came running down the hallway.

THUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUD-

Something big, heavy, and furious came running down the hallway and both you and the demon only watched as the floor shook under his feet. No escape as the thing came closer and closer- Until a giant clawed hand slammed harshly onto the doorframe making the demon holding you flinch and stumble a couple steps back as the looming form of Kyogai pushed his way into the doorway and stood above both of you much taller. You were confused looking between the now paled face of the demon holding you, and the furious look in Kyogai's blue and red eyes narrowed at the younger demon, breathing heavily from running all the way to here. You could only sit there awkwardly looking between the two demons staring each other down...Until your brow rose, and you decided to speak up.

"Kyogai?"

In an instant, his eyes snapped to you, and he blinked seeming to notice you finally, and froze. His blue eyes stared at your equally confused face, before they slowly roamed over across to where your hands gripped the black haired demon's front, then to said demon's arms holding you. Blue eyes widened for a second, but only a second, because instantly they narrowed into slits, a growl you hadn't heard him give before escaping his throat, and ever so slowly he pointed a hand right. At. The. Demon holding you.

"Put. Her. Back. Now."

The demon holding you stayed frozen in place for a moment longer before finally scowling back and pulling you closer to him. "Fuck off!"

"What are you even planning on doing with her!?," Kyogai demanded throwing up his hands, "She has no use to you!"

"I'm not getting in trouble because Little Miss Lost decided to wonder in and get herself hurt!!"

"HEY!" You scowled back at him but he ignored you staring down the taller demon with another growl.

"Wha- WHAT WAS YOUR PLAN ON FIXING THIS!? Dumping her outside the Eastern Tree Line!? She can't even walk! You'll end up killing her leaving her for dead, you dim witted beetle!"

He growled baring his fangs back. "That's why I was taking her to Douma's settlements!! He has one or two human healers so they ought to know how to fix her! And Douma's good at handling new human pets, so it'd be the perfect place for her!" Kyogai's face immediately twisted to one of horror as you shot him a look. "If I deliver her to a human settlement, then I won't be in trouble if she's with her own kind! Douma's always up for taking in more humans anyways.''

"Excuse me!," you yelled at him.

"W H A T!?"

The home shook. Literally. The entire mansion shook, lurched a bit from it's master's rage built into it making the demon holding you wobble and nearly drop you from how much he stumbled and you increased your grip on him yelping at the home's groaning creaks. As if the entire mansion was alive with his anger.

THUD!!

Kyogai slammed a single foot down leaning forward all of a sudden and got into the face of the younger demon who half paused half scowled at the older demon. "Now you listen to me you dam tantrum throwing insect! She is not even FIT for travel even if you carried her with the speed and grace of a swan! It was your own fault that this all happened in the first place! Maybe if you did your job and actually pay attention these things wouldn't have happened! Now would they!? This is why you haven't become an Upper Moon yet because Kokushibo still has to teach you the basics of the duties!!"

"How dare you speak to me that way!? IM A HIGHER RANK THAN YOU!!!''

"You're only a higher rank because of your strength and speed, and because Kokushibo has taken you on as his student so the Master was generous enough to grant you a position within the Twelve Kizuki! Otherwise you wouldn't even have the pleasure of being able to argue with me right now!" The younger demon flinched when a clawed finger roughly jabbed his chest. "AND LIKE HELL I'M ALLOWING DOUMA ANYWHERE NEAR HERE!!! THAT PERVERTED EMPTY SHELL OF A MAN CAN'T THINK OF ANYTHING BUT HIS OWN PERVERTED DESIRES AND I'LL NOT SUBJECT MY WOMEN STAFF OR THAT HUMAN TO ANY OF IT!!!"

"THAT'S WHY I SAID I'M TAKING HER TO DOUMA, NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND!! YOUR 'PRECIOUS STAFF' SHOULD BE PROTECTED IF THAT MAKES YOU FEEL BETTER-"

"DAM YOU!! GIVE ME THE HUMAN!!" You squealed out as two larger hands hooked from under your body and again you found yourself being lifted into the arms of a demon, Kyogai to be in fact. He lifted you up and out of the smaller demon's hands. You blinked and looked up at him.

"HEY!! You have no claim to her!!," the black haired demon shouted back pointing at you.

"Oh! And I suppose you have?"

"YES!! Of matter of fact I do! Since she gave me her dowry!!" He huffed proud of himself and crossed his arms, and for once Kyogai went silent. Allowing this new demon to smugly turn his head.

"....What?"

"Yes! That girl-" He pointed at you. "-gave me her dowry which means she was interested in me! And I accepted, so obviously I DO get the final say in her! So I demand as a higher up and as my claim you hand her over to me!!"

You face palmed and Kyogai continued to stare at him silently before looking to you obviously for answers. After a moment you dared to look at him, and sighed.

"It's a misunderstanding," you cleared up. "Because first of all, and for the last time, I AM NOT A BRIDE!! I never was a bride before, I'm NOBODY'S bride now, and I never WILL be someone's bride!" You practically shouted into the air, frustrated at the constant bad hand life's always dealt you. And then you pointed at the smug jerk's face as he blinked. "Second of all, the only reason I'm here is because I got lost and then chased by some simple minded men who couldn't treat women with respect! That 'dowry' I gave you wasn't even a dowry! I just thought you wanted a payment in return for rescuing me from that beast!! And even then, I'm not going anywhere I don't know! I'm staying here and waiting for a doctor to come see me!!"

The black haired demon continued to stare at you for a long moment as you frowned back at him. "....So you're not interested in me? I thought it was pretty obvious."

Kyogai looked like he wanted to lash into him again but you stopped him before he could. "I never even got your name. What's your name?"

The black haired demon regarded you for a moment before huffing. "Kaigaku. Lower Moon one of the Twelve Kizuki. It'd do you good to remember it."

You nodded calmly. "Well, Kaigaku, I'm glad to meet you, but you're looking a little ragged. You should rest and have someone fix your clothes."

Kyogai perked up seeming to catch onto what you were doing because he was quick to calm himself. "She is right, Kaigaku. You look stressed and dirtied. You should rest and allow my staff to look over you."

He looked about ready to protest but you smiled and stopped him. "A member of the Twelve Kizuki needs to look presentable. It wouldn't be proper to allow yourself to fall into disarray, how'd that make you look to the others?"

To your surprise, Kaigaku actually hummed and looked as if he was actually considering it before he grunted. "Fine. But don't think I'm doing it because you asked. It's only deserving I get a break for everything I've done."

Kyogai's eyelid twitched, but managed to retain his rage. "Of course. Please, allow me." You yelped when all of a sudden you were hiked up to be cradled within one arm as his other, now free arm, went to one of the drums on his legs tapping it twice.

BUM! BUM!

Two seconds passed and a moment later there was footsteps and a random demon woman stopped in the doorway before bowing to the taller demon. "You called me, Lord Kyogai?" Wow. They were fast around here.

"Yes. Prepare the mens' bath for Lord Kaigaku, and send someone to address his garments. Tell the cook to prepare him a meal and have Ami prepare his room for his stay with us."

"And have Eri look him over as well."

Everyone looked at you as you stared at Kaigaku and pointed. "I don't like it that he got into a fight because of me, and I don't want him hurt. So just in case have Eri look him over."

"..I don't need a second opinion on my own body! I know my limits and strengths! I would know if I was injured!"

"Yes. But it would make me feel better, and I mean it when I said I don't want anyone hurt over me." You reached out and grabbed his hand making him freeze as you stared at him sadly. "...Please?"

...He opened his mouth- ....And closed it before yanking his hand away. "Fine! But I'll only do it as a part of the luxery I'm entitled too! Not for anyone worry especially a woman's!"

"Then I shall send Eri to look you over once you've settled. Mayla! Escort Kaigaku to the baths and carry out my other orders."

Mayla. (Was that her name?) She only simply bowed deeper before leaning back up. "As you wish, My Lord. Lord Kaigaku, please follow me."

"I've been here before I know where it is!," he mumbled but started off after Mayla as she turned and began to walk off but not before shoot Kyogai a look. "I expect to be informed on what the hell's happened in between my time last seeing the human."

"Oh you will be." Kyogai narrowed his eyes back. Wait until he heard about the Master already knowing about this. That ought to get this brat to shut up. He held eye contact and watched until Kaigaku (reluctantly) disappeared out of the door following Mayla and his footsteps disappeared, before he finally allowed his body to relaxed and he slowly looked back down to you still in his arms. "Are you alright? He didn't harm you did he?"

"Um...No. B-But could you put me back down? T-This is kind of awkward."

He blinked....and his face lit up a pink. "UH!! R-Right! Y-Yes! W-What was I thinking!? Apologies!" He was quick to set you back down gently in the chair before plopping your hurt leg back into the bucket with a small splash sound. Quickly retracting his hands away from your body afterwards. "H-Here! I-Is this better?"

You nodded. "Yes. Much better thank you." Your head tilted back towards the door. "But who was that just now?"

"That mess was one of my colleges. Lower Moon One of the Twelve Kizuki although if you ask me he does not deserve the generous rank!....But how do you know him is what I would like to know!?"

You shrugged. "I ran into him by accident when I first came in here. He saved me from an attacker-" Kyogai's brows rose in surprise at that. "-but then he ate all the food I had left for doing so. He called it a 'dowry' but at the time I just thought he wanted some payment in return for saving me. I guess that was yet another misunderstanding wasn't it?"

"Kaigaku expressed interest in a dowry? From a woman?.....Kaigaku!?" he blinked.

"Oh. Is that...bad?"

"I am...Unsure." Kyogai then mumbled and reached a hand to rub his temples with a sigh. "I see I have yet another thing to fix around here. I don't get paid enough for this."

"Oh...Well, Kyogai." He jumped when he felt you reach out and grab his hand in thanks blinking from under his thanks. "Thank you again for saving me! You're a real life saver. Was Eri able to treat you yet?"

His brain froze for a second, before with his cheeks pink he pulled his hand away and held it up. "UH! N-Not yet! I-I'm afraid she was interrupted by Kaigaku's presence!"

You blinked. "Oh. Well return to her and let her finish up healing you."

"YES!! I-I will! I-I return her to assist you as soon as possible," he slowly backed away and out of the room, "Please remain here and call one of the s-servants to help you." A hand grabbed the door and slid it shut quickly. "I-I'll make sure to have a word with Kaigaku. D-Don't worry."

You rose a brow at the sudden exit and even more so at the hurried footsteps retreating from the door. What the world just happened?

[samoankpoper21]

Seven - Jungkook

A/N *Hey y'all I've been meaning to post this ages ago but I was suffering severe writers block and my work schedule has been kind of hectic T-T this is my second(?) smut and I know it needs more work so bear with me 😅😅

Word count: 868

**MDNI**

Weight of the world on your shoulders

This week in particular was long and rough. Your supervisors were constantly breathing down your neck asking whether you were done with your projects, the engineering team asking if you could spare them a slice of your time to help them with their projects all while trying to juggle and maintain your own deadlines.

You got home, sighed, and slipped off your heels. You needed Jungkook. As if the universe heard you, Jungkook sauntered into the room looking half as spent as you. He too had a rough week of promotions, filming, and interviews for his new song Seven. You both locked eyes and within seconds your lips were crashing against one another, teeth gnashing. The carnal need to be one escalated.

I take my hands and trace your lines

He pinned you against the wall, one of his hands cuffing your wrists, one of your legs wrapping around his waist trying to bring him as close as you could. "Kookie please. I need you now." Without breaking the kiss, he led you to the couch where you were grateful of the fact that you chose to wear a skirt today. You quickly straddled him, both your hands quickly going to work removing his and your shirt. He reached behind and unclasped your bra, kneading and sucking your breasts causing you to gasp. You brought the full weight of your hips down grinding against his erection causing him to release an animalistic growl, biting down on your neck leaving his mark. He wasn't the only one that was going to get away with marking you; you quickly swiped your tongue on his neck, bit down, and started sucking causing him to gasp. You began to make a trail down to his collarbone while maintaining the constant grinding of your hips. He pushed his needy hips upward, thrusting in time with you. His hands found purchase in your hair and he firmly pulled your head back, your love mark assault coming to a halt. "Stop teasing me Y/N-(y)ah." You smirked trying to gain control but who were you kidding, you both needed this. You got off of him to quickly remove your skirt and panties, he removing his sweatpants and boxers. His hardened member sprung free of its constraints, precum leaking out of the tip. You licked your lips and saunter over to him, straddling him once more.

It's the way that we can ride It's the way that we can ride

You slowly sunk down onto his member gasping, reveling at how he filled you up. He bit down on your shoulder, his hands gripping your waist. You began to move your hips up in a circular motion, slamming down causing him to dig his nails deeper into your skin. You hissed at the pain but this was nothing in comparison to the pleasure that was slowly budding. Jungkook watched your breasts bouncing up and down, lowering his head as he caught one of your nipples in his mouth. He ran his tongue up and down, flicking the erect nipple, sucking; your grinding slowing down, mouth agape, your hands tangled in his hair. He slapped your ass hard and demanded, "Don't stop riding me." Your lower lip was caught between your teeth, your pussy squeezing his dick oh so good. You loved when he demanded you to don't stop. You brought your knees up, planting your feet on either side of him, lifted up and slammed back down onto him. You kept at that tantalizing pace, Jungkook's hisses and moans of approval turning you on even more, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing throughout the room.

You wrap around me and you give me life

Your hips slammed down sloppily, Jungkook sensing that you were reaching your high. He looked up to see your eyes closed, face flushed, you clawing at his chest, breasts bouncing. He brought you to his chest and began thrusting into you. "Ah!" you screamed out. Jungkook began fucking into you, your moans echoing throughout the room. "Fuck this pussy is good." he hissed.

"Fuuucck Kookie, I'm close." He slid out of you causing you to whimper at the loss of contact. "Kooookiieee."

"Turn around." you excitedly got up, turned so that your chest was flush against the couch, shaking your ass in the process. Wasting no time, Jungkook slid into you causing you to gasp, your mouth in the shape of an "o". He gripped your hips and began slamming into you with an ungodly pace, you throwing your ass back in pace with his thrusts. He stilled your hips and went deep. "Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod that's deep." Kookie repeated that action, your thoughts and words incoherent. He circled his hips and slammed into you once more. "Fu-fuuuck Kookie I'm cumming! Aahh!" your eyes shut tightly and you squirted all over the couch. Jungkook fucked you through your orgasm, his thrusts becoming inconsistent. You threw your ass back and said, "Cum for me Kookie." with that simple sentence, Jungkook gripped your hips and released ropes after ropes of his seed into you.

That's why night after night I'll be fucking you right

[e-dubbc11]

Crazy in Love Pt. 2

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Some smexy time (18+ please, no minors or I’m telling) couple of swear words, soooooo many fluffy bunnies and unicorns, like it’s nauseating how fluffy it is. A couple tears, but happy ones

Word Count: 2.6k-ish

Summary: Continued from part one, Valentines Day into the next morning, Billy has more gifts for you. The man is incredibly thoughtful.

A/N: So this is continued from part one. You can read part one HERE. I really had no intention of writing a second part to this but I realized Billy never gave her the gift he said he had for her and I had an idea and thought I would share it, I hope you like it.

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

The early morning sunlight kissed your face as Billy gently kissed your bare shoulder. His lips traveled from your shoulder, across the top of your back to your neck.

His beard tickled the soft skin of your arm and you hummed as a little smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. These kisses were quite different from the hungry, desperate kisses from last night.

His strong hands moved under the crisp white sheet onto your thigh, while his fingers traced a line from the back of your knee up to your bare ass cheek, and his arm snaked around your waist.

Billy pulled you flush against his chest. With his lips pressed firmly against your shoulder, you could feel the smile spread across his face. “Good morning, my love. Sleep well?”

You turned around to face him, your gaze slipped from his onyx like eyes to his mouth as you moved forward to kiss him. “Mmmm hmmm.” You pulled away to look into his eyes once again. “I did, handsome.”

He inched forward to kiss your forehead as you closed your eyes, remembering the affairs from last night. The feeling still fresh in your mind, that sensation of pleasure Billy gave you over and over again, as if you were still coming down from the orgasms Billy pulled from you.

You could still feel the pressure of his hands against your wrists pinning you firmly to the mattress, his cock buried so deep inside, it was almost too much for you. Your legs spread so wide, your knees were touching the bed.

The sinful cries of passion fled from your lips and into his ears, he loved to hear you call out his name over and over again, it turned him on more. Those breathy sounds of pleasure put a wicked smile on his face as he drove into you harder and faster, your slick coating his cock with each thrust.

“You like that, don’t you princess.” His voice at a low growl. “So wet for me, you’re dripping baby.”

You purred into his ear. “Yes…yes, Billy.”

With your ankles wrapped around Billy’s lower back, you pulled him deeper inside. Buried to the hilt, his rapid strokes were hitting that sweet spot that made your vision go white. His teeth nipped at your bottom lip and your neck, sprinkling goosebumps across your skin.

“That’s it, baby. Taking my whole cock like a good girl.” He gnashed his teeth and left love bites at the base of your neck and the top of your shoulder. As you grabbed a fist full of his ebony colored hair, a sharp inhale leaked from your mouth.

His praise made you clench down hard onto him and triggered you to arch your back off the bed as you came closer and closer to your climax. His thrusts became faster, longer and more uneven. Billy was getting closer to chasing his own release.

“Billy!” You cried out, scraping your nails across his back, and hitting your peak.

“That’s my good girl, cum for me baby. Ah fuck!” He hissed into your shoulder as he spilled into you, shuddering and finally collapsing on top of you.

With both of you breathing heavily, he moved the hair away from your eyes, and lovingly pressed his lips to yours. “Lemme see those nails, I think you might have drawn blood when you scratched me.” He said jokingly. “What do ya say, beautiful? Did I earn my chocolate cake?”

You started to laugh a little as his soft lips hungrily kissed you, his tongue danced with yours as you tried to stop yourself from laughing. Pressing a hand to your forehead, you were finally able to catch your breath, as he planted himself next to you. “Mmmm…you sure did, my love. Those scratches on your back prove it.” You gave him a wink. “I’ll race ya for it.”

Pushing him away, you caught him off guard a little as you tried to get to the fridge faster than he could. But try getting in between Billy Russo and his sweets and you’ll pay a price.

You were fast but not fast enough and it didn’t take much for Billy to overpower you, pushing you back down onto the bed, laughing maniacally while he did it.

He even managed to grab his boxer briefs on his way out of the bedroom. As you pulled his dress shirt around your naked body, you called out after him in between your bursts of laughter.

“Billy Russo, don’t you dare start eating that cake without me!!”

Watching him take the cake out of the fridge, his childlike smile made your heart swell. And as the two of you sat at the kitchen table enjoying your dessert, it was hard not to stare at the man in front of you. He had made your day quite memorable in more good ways than bad.

His dark eyes that almost matched the color of the cake were staring back at you and a warm smile stretched across his handsome face. This Valentine’s Day may not have been perfect but it definitely was not boring.

“What is it, my love?” He asked.

You smiled at him and said “Well, I don’t know about you but I had a great time tonight.” You covered your mouth to try to stop yourself from giggling and having the cake escape your lips.

In between bites of cake, Billy pointed his fork at you. “Oh you did, did you?” He said raising his eyebrows. “You sure I didn’t ruin your night, baby?” He asked in a semi serious tone.

Your smile eased a little because you knew he felt bad for losing his temper, getting thrown in jail and leaving you at the restaurant all alone but there wasn’t anything you could do about it now except be happy that he’s home with you and not spending the night in jail.

“What’s better than sex and chocolate cake, handsome?” You asked rhetorically. It also seemed to make him feel better.

He finished the last bite of cake before telling you. “Remember, I have one more present for you, baby.”

“Billy, I told you. I don’t need another present! And didn’t I tell you to just give it to me tomorrow?” You scolded him a little.

“Well, yeah but one of them–.” He started to say.

You interrupted him. “ONE of them? Billy, you said you had only ONE more present!”

“Ok, well I lied a little, y/n. I love giving you presents. What do ya want from me?” He smirked at you.

You put down your fork and crossed your arms across your chest, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Will you just go sit on the couch please? Please?” He asked you, flashing his perfect smile at you that you just couldn’t say no to or stay mad at.

Getting up from the table, you tugged at the hem of the dress shirt so it covered your bare ass and made your way to the couch like he asked. What was he up to?

Biting down on your thumb, you checked out Billy’s backside as he walked to the bedroom. He emerged from the bedroom with a familiar looking box but not like the ones already in your closet. It was a new one with a black ribbon tied around it and said Chanel across the top.

“Billy Russo, what did you do?” He knew Chanel was your favorite.

He set the box in your lap. “Go ahead, beautiful. Open it.” Billy insisted. He always showed so much excitement when he gave you gifts.

Untying the ribbon, you looked up at him through your long lashes and smiled. Warmth spread across your chest, you were very eager to see what he got for you.

Inside the box, a card sat resting on top of the dust bag. You read it aloud.

Happy Valentine’s Day, sweet girl. You are always the brightest star in my sky. Love you always, Billy

“Baby…” You started to say before a tear ran down your cheek. “I love you too. Just this note is beautiful.”

“I know it’s kinda cheesy…” He said, blushing a little. “Finish opening your present.”

You pulled the dust bag out of the box and opened it. Inside was the patent calfskin backpack he caught you looking at a few months ago.

“Oh Billy…It’s beautiful, baby! Thank you!” You exclaimed.

“Do you like it?” Billy asked.

“I love it, Billy. You really shouldn’t have done this but I love it.” You said as another tear trickled down your face. “What’s this?” There was another gift at the bottom of the box.

He stopped you from opening it. “Wait! Before you open that my love, I need your help with something.”

He stood up, gently took you by the hand, and walked you over to your telescope that is always set up in front of the glass balcony door.

At the beginning of your relationship, you mentioned to Billy that you loved astronomy. Getting lost and staring at the stars was one of your favorite things to do ever since you were a little girl.

On warm summer nights, you would just lay in the grass, listening to the crickets and the frogs serenade you, gazing up at the night sky, hoping to see a shooting star.

You would impress your parents by pointing out the different constellations that were visible and even point out planets that were visible to the naked eye.

But this was the first time in your life that you had an actual telescope to look at the stars. It was another gift from Billy. You couldn’t believe he had bought something so extravagant for you so early on in your relationship, you almost didn’t want to accept it, but it was probably the one of the gifts from him you treasured the most.

He opened up an app on his phone called Night Sky. “Can you find this star for me, baby?” He asked, pointing to a specific star on his phone.

Finding stars was so much fun for you, it was exciting. “Ok, but lemme just put on some pants, it’s cold outside, my love. I’ll be right back!” You said excitedly.

Billy slipped on some sweat pants and moved the telescope outside while you were gone. The cool winter air hit your face as you stepped out onto the balcony, you grabbed a sweatshirt on your way out of the bedroom for Billy as he still didn’t have a shirt on.

He extended his arm to show you the star he wanted you to find. You kept glancing from the telescope to the phone, from the phone back to the telescope and after a few minutes of searching, you found the star that Billy wanted you to find.

“Ok, handsome. I found your star–take a look.” You said.

Billy smiled at you and looked through the telescope. “Actually baby, you found YOUR star.”

Caught off guard, you questioned him. “What?”

“It’s your star, my love.” He repeated again and handed you the other present from the bottom of the Chanel box.

After tearing the paper open, you took a look at what was inside. It was a framed Certificate of Star Registration and the name of the star was…”Sweet Girl.”

Covering your mouth with your hand, you were rendered speechless and a chill ran down your back. “Billy…I don’t know what to say. I’ve never had–” Trying to find the right words had never been more difficult, your mouth was dry and the words were just getting stuck in the back of your throat. It was such a beautiful gift and so thoughtful.

“And I thought the telescope was the most thoughtful gift you could have ever given me.” You finally choked out, clutching the frame to your chest. “This is–just–I don’t know…thank you, Billy. Thank you so much.” Stumbling over your words, more tears trickled down your cheeks as he pulled you close to him.

Billy’s endless brown eyes were gazing into yours like he was committing the way you looked at that moment to memory. The way you bit down on your bottom lip and looked up at him through your long dark lashes, and the way you shied away from him because you felt like you didn’t deserve all of this.

The idea that someone could love him as much as you did was an idea that he was still getting used to but the way you looked at him, he felt it, he had finally welcomed it…pure love.

“Look at me, baby.” He placed his forefinger and thumb on your chin to turn your face to look at his. “I wanna give you the world, so I figured I would start with a piece of it.” His eyes were glassy, his voice hitched as he uttered those words to you, and the cold skin on his fingers gently touched your face to brush the warm tears away. “I love you with all my heart.”

Billy’s hands cupped your face, slowly he leaned down to kiss you, your body quickly warmed up as his lips softly touched yours, and the bristles of his beard scratched your soft cheeks as your lips parted allowing his tongue to tangle with yours.

He needed to know you felt the same way so you pulled away slightly. “I love you too, Billy. And I already have the world, my love. I have you.” You said and you kissed him again.

It was his turn to be at a loss for words. As he carried you off to bed, your words played over and over again in his head like his favorite song on repeat. Billy had waited so long to hear words like those, he had waited his entire life to be loved like the way you love him.

After the highlights of your Valentine’s Day finished playing in your head, suddenly it was back to the morning after, with the sunlight dancing across Billy’s forehead and you gazing into his gorgeous brown eyes.

Yes, you absolutely loved the gifts he gave you and he loved doing it, but you recognized that it’s never been about what he could buy you or give you. It was about having someone ask how your day was, or bringing you a glass of wine or a pint of your favorite ice cream when you’ve had a rough day.

The gentle scratches you devoted to his scalp when he would relay his day for you was one of his favorite acts of the love language you shared, and when he would kiss your hands was a favorite of yours.

Your relationship was give and take, it wasn’t perfect but it didn’t have to be. It was special because of what the two of you did for each other, the way you complimented one another, and the laughs you shared.

Billy cherished simple things like these type of mornings, where neither of you had to get up for work, he could just kiss you and hold you close without a care in the world. He loved nights at home with you, enjoying dinner or a glass of his favorite bourbon.

He enjoyed being dragged out onto the balcony on a clear night for you to point out the different stars in the sky because of the smile it brought to your face, the excitement he heard in your voice.

He appreciated that you shared those things with him, he loved that he made you happy, which is all he had ever wanted. YOU are everything he has ever wanted, his bright star, his…”Sweet Girl.”

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[freakeybong]

Greed

all i am is pure desperation

i am piercing wails and gnashed teeth

clenched fists and bloody fingernails

god, please help and forgive me

for taking refuge in sin

for when i find what i desire

i hold its warm body close

wrapping my cold, calloused hands around it tightly

as if letting go would be the end of me

and when it struggles in my grasp

i dig my nails deeper into its chest

and i bite down harder on its pulse

tears begin to fall as teeth and nails pierce skin

i always expect more than just blood to pour out

but there is only that metallic taste on my tongue

and ruby red dressing my fingertips as i hold desires limp frame

and when desire escapes me

as it always does

wiggling its way out of my war torn hands

there will always be scars of my love left in its wake

and i will still have the blood running down my chin

and my red stained hands

to remind me of my sin

[direwombat]

wip-nobody-asked-for-it-sunday, but i just really wanted to share the roughest of rough drafts of the scene where syb and jacob have a little scuffle in the slasher au. under the cut bc its long

It all happens in a moment. The snap of a branch above and suddenly a solid 140lbs comes crashing down on top of him, along with a snarling screech. The wind is knocked from his lungs and he's forced to the ground. The gun goes off again before it flies from his hands and skids through the dirt.

[they wrestle.] There's nothing graceful or strategic about it. It's sheer animal desperation. A fight for survival. Feral grunts and snarls from them both. She claws at his face/eyes, her face twisted into a harsh grimace. Her teeth gnash together and spittle flies from her mouth. She grips him by the sides of his head, nails biting into the shell of his ears and she bashes his skull against the ground. and again.

And again.

And again.

With each impact, black dots dance across his vision, the world beginning to blur. His ears are ringing, drool and blood dripping from his mouth and he feels his eyelids grow heavy.

But his prey is hasty. She doesn't wait for him to fully pass out. Doesn't beat him into full unconsciousness. Just the brink. One that he's able to walk back from as soon as her weight abruptly leaves him and he hears the thumping of her boots and snapping of twigs as her footsteps recede.

With a groan, he forces himself upright. It's a struggle. Everything fucking hurts. His head is pounding and while he doesn't think he's concussed, he knows that his scalp is going to be tender. Blood drips from the slashes she made down his face. Impressive considering he knows her nails aren't sharp. Saw the way she chewed most of them down to the quick.

He's unsteady on his feet, stumbling towards the gun that she left behind in her haste. He lets out another groan as he stoops to pick it up and readies it. He has to hand it to her: if she didn't leave that behind, she might have gotten away.

He takes aim at her through the trees. Closes an eye. Inhales a deep breath. Holds it. Takes aim.

And fires.

A crack rings out into the evening, followed by a high pitched yelp, and he watches her go down.

[he stalks over to find her laying on the ground, clutching her shoulder. BLood seeps from between her fingers, soaking through her flannel. Her hair is a mess. Her face covered in dirt and smears of blood. Her chest is heaving, but even as he looms over her, pointing the barrel straight at her face, there isn't an ounce of fear in her eyes.

"Do it," she says, and she spits blood onto the ground. "C'mon, fuckin' do it. Kill me."

He remains still. His finger curls around the trigger. But he doesn't pull.

"The fuck you waitin' for?" she snarls, suddenly enraged. "This your whole thing ain't it? Fuckin' Most Dangerous Game n' shit? Well, ya caught me. You fuckin' won. Now finish it."

But still, he doesn't pull.

And then she starts laughing, a wild, manic look shining in her green eyes. "Jesus Christ, some hunter you are," she sneers. "What? It not get you off if they ain't beggin'? That it? Can't get hard if they ain't pleadin' for their lives?"

He cocks his head to the side. A smile threatens to upturn the stern line of his lips.

She lets her head fall back and stares up at the canopy, rather than him. "Whatever," she breathes. "Ain't like I got shit to live for anyway." Then, quietly, she adds, "'Least it ain't prison."

He frowns and lowers his gun. Feels a strange twinge of…empathy for her. So many people are content to live their lives in the little boxes society puts them in. But not her. She'd rather die free than spend the rest of her life living in a cage.

This, he understands.

He heaves a sigh and lowers his gun. Giving the sole of her boot a nudge with the toe of his own, he grunts, "Get up."

"Why?" she scoffs. "So you can take me on a death march? Can't look me in my face when you kill me? Gon' take me out executioner style?"

"Not gonna kill you," he grunts, and he slings the rifle over his shoulder.

"Then what?"

"Gonna get you patched up."

She lifts her head and regards him with skeptical bewilderment. "Come again?"

"You gonna get up or not?"

She winces again, face pinching in pain as she rolls herself forward so that she's sitting upright. Her teeth are still bared. "You fuckin' serious?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

She regards him for a moment, scans his face and body language. She narrows her eyes and frowns, but hesitantly rises to her feet and stares him in the eye. "You look like shit," she answers.

The smile he'd been suppressing cracks through and he gently places a hand on her good shoulder. "C'mon. Back to the truck."