#but i have always been a fan of violent cannibalism and not the pussy 'i love you so you can eat me' cannibalism

[local-limebug]

"cannibalism is erotic and romantic and loving in its most naked form blah blah blah" NO.

some of us like cannibalism for the hatred. the rage. the depravity. the complete consumption of another identical being into your own body. to crush down and digest another person, body and soul, only as fuel for yourself.

[tobegiggledat]

A Savory Awakening

18+ CONTENT AHEAD MDNI

✦pairing: Strix!Hawks x afab!reader

✦warnings: no quirks au, blood, noncon, oral sex (f.receiving), he tries to bite your pussy👹, cannibalism

✦word count: 2.9k

Perfect you think to yourself as you overlook the muddy-green herbal concoction you’ve been preparing since morning.

Your non-occupied hand scavenges for more of the fragrant oils to your left while your eyes never leave the mixture, with thick leaves embedding themselves under your fingertips as you reduce them to a paste thin enough for swallowing.

It’s a recipe you were given for Keigo, who's been acting sickly ever since his return from a week-long trip with one of the neighbors he’s recently made friends with.

His lips seldom move to utter a notion about what transpired, even though a bit of context would go a long way in curing what ails him.

The cumulation of your efforts rests in a small-wooden bowl for his taking.

He warily eyes the contents before bringing a spoonful to his mouth, slightly parting them with apprehension still evident in his movements.

It reaches his tongue and ends with a tight pucker of his lips.

“Woooh—that's gotta kick to it” He jolts sharply in his stool at the impact. “But, I’m feeling better already!” His arms extend toward the sky as a smile graces his abnormally pale features.

“Yeah, yeah, just tell me how it works in a few hours.” You give a sly smirk.

“Told’ya it was nothing to worry about—”Keigo abruptly curls toward the counter, gagging over the bowl to return the viscous liquid to its original container, now laced with streaks of his saliva and blood.

“Keigo!” You rush to his side in an instant, briskly dropping your tools to be at his aide.

“I’m fine—“ He hurls some more, but his body shakes violently from the wrath of the arising bile in his throat.

“No, we need to get you to a doctor and-and—”

“No!” He cuts through the atmosphere. “I’m alright, promise.” His honeyed irises diminish to black pools as his nostrils flare with each breath.

And you can only nod meekly with his words asserting themselves to keep you still.

✦✦✦✦

Despite your many protests, Keigo decides to sleep in the guest room that night to avoid giving what he has to you. This would be the last night you’d see him for a while though, as his boundaries would grow increasingly unreasonable over the next few days, under the guise of “containing the spread”.

Initially, you think little of his rules as over-cautiousness has always been a side effect of living with Keigo—but then he suggests something that breaches your trust the moment it escapes from his over-rasped throat.

“Under no circumstances should you tell the neighbors about what’s going on”, he orders, voice reduced to near muffles from the tall, wooden barrier between you both.

Your hands clasp tightly around the warm cup of broth you cooked for him and it singes your lap as you speak. “But why—“

“I don’t want to trouble them”, he continues, and you swear the door writhes from the vibrations of his words. “I’m the only one who’s been affected…they don’t need to know about this.”

“How can you be so certain?” You finally acknowledge the festering heat on your thighs, placing the cup beside you to twiddle your thumbs at the growing discomfort.

“I’ll tell you eventually, but first, promise me you’ll do as I say.” His tone’s much softer than before; pleading even.

A troubled inhale travels into you then spills out in an impotent breath. “Ok, I trust you”, you reply, dropping the subject. “Do you have any dishes for me?”

The door hurriedly parts to reveal a plate of oatmeal remnants and its equally stained fork, you swap the leftovers for the fresh cup of stew you were holding then shut it just as quickly.

A sliver of scarlet protrudes from beneath the dish; a feather you notice, and you observe how it fans from the air of even your shallowest gestures, its shimmery bristles glisten and point towards the darker tip.

Your fingers encase the smooth root of it as you bring it parallel to your pupils with its details illuminating with a turn of your wrist under the hallway light and your minimal adjustments in angle.

A call for Keigo briefly forms between your teeth but it diminishes into a wavering thought.

You can’t ask about it—not now.

It’s best to make note of it and nothing more, but when you return to bed, feather still in hand, a new doubt blights your mind.

Though, as the night goes on and fatigue reaches your eyes, those lingering anxieties soon fade to nonsensical strings then silence before sleep passes over you delicately.

The next morning you’re roused with your torso suffocated beneath the covers by a mysterious pressure.

The slow blinks of your eyelids are natural given the slit of tangerine light that pours in from outside; they part with bleariness, then fright as your pupils expand tenfold at the cause of the weight before you.

“Mornin’”, Keigo sings chirpily, honey wisps spread across your chest every which way.

“Shit—Keigo!”, you jerk upward, scalp clashing with the headboard as you scramble to make sense of his presence. “W-Why are you here?”

“I’m here because I sleep here”, he replies as if the answer is obvious.

You still swipe at the crust in your eyes to better clear your vision. “Aren’t you still sick?”, you ask, though his skin is freckled with more lively hues and his voice is crisp-clear and thick.

“Nope! I’m as sharp as a razor”, he flexes his arms, gleaming white revealed between his curved lips.

You take the opportunity to draw yourself closer, exhale grazing across him at the lack of distance. “I missed you.”

“Mmm, but I’ve been here the whole time.” He purrs it, waiting with bated breath for your next move.

“Y’know what I mean.” Your finger traces the bare divots of his chest, nesting in the soft hairs that adorn it, swiping to and fro and parting the wispy tangles. “Now that you’re doing better…are you ever going to tell me what was going on?”

“Eventually”, he says lightly, a chaste kiss caresses your forehead. “C’mon, I made breakfast.”

He gently tugs you into the kitchen and you clumsily prance against his heels with lethargy heavy on your limbs and grumpiness wracking your dulled senses.

A sweet aroma stirs throughout the air as the meal he’s prepared is laden with flavored toast and crisp fruit you don’t remember ever stocking in the pantry.

“What’dya think—Still a great cook as always?”, he smirks. “I’m back in my prime, y’know.”

You nod. “Yeah, looks good.” Your hungry gaze sweeps across the counter some more. “Where’s your plate?”

“I ate already, don't worry about it.” His chiseled palms tenderly stroke the sides of your arms, his mouth pressing deeply into the cup of your collar bone.

You think it’s nice that he's cured and all, but he’s acting too…odd.

You place your delicate fingers across his forehead to feel for signs of unusual warmth, but there aren’t any.

“You don’t trust me?” He sighs against the shell of your ear before pulling away to face you, betrayal is cast across his eyes, thick brows curved downward and opaque-pink lips parted.

“No, I do, but I’m still worried.” You are and a part of you wants to scold him for withholding details until they become too much for him to bear, but you know it’ll come with time just like it always does. But, for once, you wish to bear a burden with him as it happens, just once.

He stares blankly then smiles, yet it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m fine, finish eating.”

After breakfast, Keigo spends the entire afternoon running errands he was unable to complete during his time off, though the details of what they were never reach you.

As for you, you busy yourself with tidying around the house, starting with the landfill of dishes in the kitchen sink, and then you’re off to the other rooms—dusting and sweeping and shining.

When you reach the guest room, it’s locked from the inside. Keigo must’ve done something with it, and while you’re tired of the secrets, you’re left with no choice but to approach him about it later.

You have to trust him, especially given the strain your prior suspicions have already caused…

✦✦✦✦

He inevitably returns when the sun has long set, and with that familiar weight burrowing into your sternum as you lay, he peeks through the darkness to check if you're awake.

“Hey”, he speaks softly, shifting beneath the covers beside you before prying at them to expose your bare chest to his eager fingers.

You groan as they fondle the heated flesh, then drift toward the pebbled tips; slow yet smooth, his thumb pads swirl in small circles that have your sex begging for the same treatment.

His attention is drawn to the gushing between your thighs eventually, plucking your throbbing nub between his fingertips, pinching and molding the organ erect as it’s twitching violently until pliable in his grasp.

All the while, he begins to give affection to your breasts, now suffocated by the warmth of his tongue which lathes over the area until dark blotches form in its wake; trails of angry red and violet are softening and sore under his touch.

His hand swipes across your folds like your arousal is a translucent fingerpaint; creating masterpieces of your body with each swipe, his pliant and willing muse, he gathers the slick that trickles from his movements, but he soon brings them to his lips and parts them to lustfully devour your flavor.

If it wasn’t so dark, you wouldn’t have missed the way his eyelids fluttered at your taste.

He travels downward with his head above your cunt to give teasing breaths, the calm before the storm as his lips burrow into your thighs with a quickness, tongue lashing against the smooth skin to leave glossy imprints that are warm and sticky upon impact but cool and light under the wind of his inhales.

At first, he suckles them passionately, with his thumbs making ridges into the sides and sinking into the tissue to subdue each of your thrashes from arousal, but his teeth start to poke and prod at the sensitive skin, swiping across it appreciatively then abruptly sinking in, deep enough to draw blood.

“What the fuck—that hurts!”, you jolt at the sharpness that snaps you out of your pleasureful haze to piece his face together in the dark abyss.

“Sorry”, he says in a hurried whisper.

“It’s fine…just be gentler.”

His face returns to your lower lips, with more fervor as if to make up for his clumsiness, but the grip from his hands sting like claws, plunging deeper and deeper until the searing is too much to bear.

“Keigo!”, you shout but he doesn’t let up, lapping more eagerly at the blood that’s caked on the gash. “Keigo—aagh—get off!”

You fiercely shove at his wrists until he eventually removes his mouth from it, lips sticky and dripping, though you can still feel the hot gusts from his parted teeth. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing, I’m fine, just let me…” He’s drawn to your thighs like a magnet lies beneath the muscle, slurping at the bloodied wound once again with vigor, but you claw at his arms and push for him to release you.

“No, get off me!” Clench fisted, you beat against his back in a fury, yet your skin snags across something so stiff and sharp that you hastily recoil.

In that moment of stillness, you make out the colossal wings that perch neatly at his sides, flexing outward and fluttering in small motions while blending with the dark behind it. His beastly posture mimics a ferocious gargoyle, sinister ambience emitting from his sculpted outline—a fallen angel, you think, has taken the place of your former lover and he’s vengeful, making punishing marks across your flesh until you keel and squirm at the intensity.

“What…is…that?” You gawk, stomach and intestines coiling in horror, your pulse reaches your ears, drumming violently against the walls of your skull in an eerie rhythm.

At that, his mouth finally pulls away from you, his claws make a bloodied home in your skin. “It’s what I’ve been meaning to tell you about.”

“W-What happened on that trip?”, you ask, despite being uncertain the answer will satisfy you in the end.

He retreats upward, rising to his knees then swiping at the fluid smeared on his cheeks. “Jeanist and I starved for days in that forest”, he begins, and you long to see his expressions as he recalls it. “We got lost in some cave after trotting too deep in the dark, and our fate was sealed the moment the ground beneath us collapsed.” He shutters softly. “We went without food, water and lights for a while. But the cave, it made me do things—it made me see things—I…”

He goes stiff.

His unmoving silhouette draws panic within your bones, your heart jitters for escape, yet your nerves have fallen silent, muscles rigid and mouth slightly gaping—and you still haven’t heard much of it.

“I had an epiphany”, he adds. “While Jeanist was sound asleep, I thought I’d take him out for good and eat him instead”, His awkward chortle fills the room but it fades just as quickly.

“The first bite was difficult to get through, and so I had second thoughts. I vomited until I couldn’t breathe—in a mix of regret, guilt and disgust…but as his juices started to gush around my tongue…”, he shakily trails, posture shifting and wings flaring.

His next words drip from the corners of his lips, oozing sadistic glee as he practically moans them. “It was…heavenly.”

He moves against you, hawk-like and predatory, slithering toward your core before you can react. His hands are rough and scabious, pointed talons puncturing your meat in his hold. “And now I’ve been sentenced into some creature that craves nothing but human flesh. You understand now, don’t you?”, he speaks over your cunt, and you tremble for what may come next. “I can’t go back to how I used to be, I need finer cuisine. And you’re perfect for me.”

He drenches his nose within your heat, and you go strict like a frail animal whose neck has been pierced; helpless to the pricking of starved fangs, and blanketed by a salted musk that has you suspended in belief. His teeth are emanant of decay, crusted and reeking all the while substantiating his claims of feasting on human meat.

“My cravings are never-ending”, he continues and his voice cracks as if he’s on the verge of tears, yet you hear a hint of smile within it too. “I’m hungry. So, so hungry and you smell amazing like this”, he drawls. “All wet and scared, god.”

“Please-please, don’t”, you cry, though your voice is nothing more than a pathetic whine.

He releases a sound between a groan and a sob. “I-I don’t think I can contain myself.”

“Y-You can, remember when you slept away from me to protect me?”, you gulp a hefty sum of air. “W-We can go back to that.”

“No”, he says firmly, and something shoots through the air to pin your wrists—one of his feathers, but it’s no ordinary one as it has the strength to keep you unmoving and subjected to his desire.

“What?”

“I’ve already had a taste of you…and I wanna finish my meal.”

Your eyes are clenched tightly, as you accept your fate to the anguish that'll be inflicted on your lower half, but your cold lips are met with warmth instead. Keigo’s tongue lavishes the region, passionately taking your clit into his mouth—with all the actions meant to be pleasurable, but aren’t—it couldn’t be now that the threat of being devoured is present.

“What are you—aah”, you gasp as he treats your cunt more reverently, suspending the idea of taking a bite— as if you’re the finest fruit—and he must scarf your sugary juices before nipping into the plump flesh. “N-No more, please.”

He doesn’t relent. His lewd slurps travel down the expanse of your folds and toward your twitching hole, his supply of your fluids never running short despite your horror, gushing in glistening tails that lead into his throat.

The lack of light has your senses heightened, the sticky and damp feeling of your skin most prominent with each clench of your thighs—each brush against you amplified enough to have electricity engulfing your nerves.

He briefly hovers then closes the distance, the faint pinpricks of his incisors revealing his preparation to strike your poor pussy as a final act of resoluteness.

“No—wait!”, you shriek with your wrists twisting against the feathers hard enough to leave bruises.

And a taut silence blooms in place of his smacking.

His gaze is piercing enough to make you aware of it, index stroking up and down your cunt, before he brings the last taste of you to his lips.

“I’ve had my fill for today, don’t wanna eat everything all at once”, he giggles, swiping at his mouth then laying beside you in faux naivety.

He doesn’t say anything beyond that, let alone move, but under the twitching press of his wings all you can do is wait, or hope your fate is mercifully avoided by succumbing to death in your sleep…