#does blade HAVE a belly button???

[fisheito]

there's no stopping him

[madamechrissy]

Pour it Up

Pairings: Stripclub Owner Sukuna x Stripper F!reader

Summary:- You are a single mother, your baby daddy is not just worthless, he also is actively trying to sabotoge you, so you go out on your own and raise your kid by yourself. Struggling your ass off, a friend of a friend named Toji decides to offer you a hell of a deal, a few hours a night at a strip club to make BANK. While there, you meet the other owner, Sukuna, and the moment he sees you? You annoy him how beautiful you are, how much he wants you, pushing him to insanity. He knows he must have you- no matter whose ass he needs to beat.

Warnings:- reader is a mom, lowkey/highkey Yandere Sukuna behavior (He's obsessed- down bad) recreational drug use, drug dealing Sukuna (the club lowkey a front lol) Mafia ties, EXPLICIT sexual content, fluff/smut AND light angst- violence, some former trauma of reader. This part- SO MUCH SEX, so much whipped Kuna lol Oral sex (Female receiving) fingering, marathon sex, multiple positions, mating press, creampie, cum eating, shower sex, tummy bulge, spitting, dirty talk (Kuna says slut and whore) - WC-6.9k

Based on Stripclub Owner Sukuna - will be six or more parts-I HIGHLY recommend the playlist (At least on the club scenes) That mobster art in the banner is by Sketch B on X- LINK

<<<Part two - Playlist - Masterlist - Part Four>>>

Part Three

‘You’re getting no sleep tonight’

Sukuna’s big, expensive jacket falls down, pooling at your ankles, before he turns you, unclasping your bra and leaving brutal kisses along your neck, your shoulders, nipping and licking while your head falls to the side, allowing him more access. Your breasts are heaving up and down while his hands slip down your panties, and finally he’s unbuckling your heels.

When he does you’re so ridiculously tiny next to this giant of a man it’s laughable, everyone really is, but the thrill of it just excites you more, as your head falls back to look at him, and your fingers are unbuttoning so fast they shake. He chuckles, “That excited huh?”

“Shush.” Is all you manage, but you are, so curious to the muscle you can feel against you, slipping off his shirt then and biting your lip at how gorgeous his body actually is.

Rippled muscles, tattoos running down his neck to his chest, his abdomen, black lines that just enhance the lines and cuts of his abdomen. Your hands touch his thick chest, well formed pectoral muscles tensing as you trail your fingers down, each rippling abdominal, until you find a line of dark hair under his belly button, and you hear his breath catch.

“Sukuna, you're kind of beautiful.”

“Kinda what now? Did I already lick your lil head dumb?” You laugh softly, shaking your head at him, pressing a kiss on his chest. “Shit…” He moans out, hand enwrapping in your hair.

You expect more taunts or teases, but he’s just watching you intently, sooty pink lashes lowering, as you unzip his pants, sliding them down, and then reach his black boxers and pull the waistband. His thick, heavy cock comes into your view, your pussy is throbbing around literally nothing, picturing just how this will fit.

Precum is smeared along his tip, his piercing, and your eyes shoot up to watch his cheeks dusted pink, you smile just a bit. “Are you blushing, Mr. Sukuna?”

“Blushing? Tch…” He scowls at you now, before you know it you’re swooped up in his arms, as his blushing tip of his cock lines up with your drooling hole, and you’re whining out, pussy soaking him, he feels your heat and damn near cums from rubbing on it. “Pathetic.”

“Hmm?” You mumble.

“You’re pathetic for me, aren’t you?” You just nod weakly, but Sukuna may or may not be talking about himself, he’s pathetic for you.

You’re more than ready from him drinking you up in the car, but you’re so tight, and he’s so thick it’s stupid, those nine inches just barely pressing in as the cool wall is flush on your back, pressing against your shoulder blades, while your front is pressed on Sukuna. You’re trembling as you try to take any of him as all, just the tip has you spasming.

Sukuna thought he could handle you, he thought he’d fuck you so good against this damn wall, slam your cervix as he holds you up against this wall, but the moment he’s inside you? The moment your slick walls suck him in, and your walls are fluttering around just the tip he’s inserted in your sticky, gooey little pussy, the moment your eyes shoot up to his, and your lips part?

Sukuna is ended.

You end him to the point he pauses, used to rough sex and pummeling a pussy, drilling like he’s made for it, instead his breath catches, and he’s resting his forehead on yours for a moment, while you cling to him tightly. He feels your manicured nails pressing into his biceps, your thighs trembling, cunt dripping as you try to take any of him at all.

Your breaths mix, yours is so sweet it intoxicates him, pushing in just a little more, seeing if you can take it, and fuck you try to, but he’s so thick it burns, you can barely cling to him for any sense of reality. You look up at ruby red eyes, your mouth open in a cry as he pulls back, pushing even further in, one hand leaving your ass as he presses you into the wall.

His other hand comes to grip yours, fingers entwining over your head, your hand is engulfed in his huge one, you feel so tiny in his hold, in his arms, wrapped around this thick, veiny cock you’re trying to take. Your breaths come quicker when he holds your hand, when he pauses, when his eyes get lidded, pupils shrunk to pinpoints, making the rubies that are his eyes even more intense.

“Fuck…” Is all he manages, his heart beating in his chest, pounding against the softness of your breasts, as something just clicks, something snaps all at once, swirling his mind, looking at your pretty face, the tears in your eyes. “Too much, brat?” He huffs, trying to act calm, like he’s not losing it for you.

You take a shaky breath, crying out when he presses deeper, you feel him everywhere, his cock so deep inside you, feel him in your tummy, god you feel him in your head. It’s overwhelming, as he clutches your hand so tightly, the things you feel already for this man are far beyond his dick, his hands, his lips, it’s how he’s looking at you, how he’s holding your hand.

You shake your head, reaching one hand to cup his face then, making him feel far too much, so much he swallows, feeling nerves that a man like him shouldn’t, god you make him feel like some high school idiot. If he was a more romantic man he’d write some poems or shit, but he sure wasn’t going that far, but it takes everything to hold in words that are threatening to spill.

Foolish words.

He’s pussy drunk off three thrusts, then by four you’re whining out his name- “Sukuna!” And he’s done for.

He kisses you brutally, hands back on your ass, pounding inside your slick heat as you bite on his neck, making him hiss, your nails scratching at his back when his drooling tip kisses your cervix. “F-fuck… biting me, huh brat?” He manages to huff, and you just whimper, head falling back as he fucks into you more and more, the wet sounds filling his empty penthouse.

He’s maddened by you, how good you feel, as you feel the stretch, feel your pussy trying to accommodate him, and he’s pressing in, rolling his hips just so, pulling back to watch as your face contorted in pleasure. “There you go, cum for me, like a perfect lil’ slut, huh?”

You nod weakly, sniffling as he presses you even closer, you feel the pressure building, as his piercing hits something so good, and you’re tightening around it, screaming out. “Y-yes, yes, I’m gonna- ah!”

“That’s it, f-fuckin’ feel you.” He huffs, strong muscles tensing as you convulse around his cock.

How can he even handle you if in a few thrusts you’re trying to milk his cock for everything!?

“Oh my god, mnh!” He’s pushing off the wall now, carrying you to a sleek leather couch, where he pulls out, cock already dripping precum, mixing with your soaking wet arousal. He turns you and slips a hand to your clit, you’re whining at the loss of his cock, as you drip down his fingers. “Please, back in.”

“So needy already, huh?” He’s needy for you though, as he presses you down, arching your pretty ass up and groaning at the sight. “Fuck, look at that.” He smacks your ass, each cheek bouncing for him, before spreading them, guiding his thick cock back inside.

“Yes, please, please… ah!” You’re shuddering when he’s pulling your hair at the nape of your neck, sinking back in so deep, piercing on his cock hitting just that spot as the tip drags along your walls, and you’re gripping at the couch as he bends you further, arching your ass up for more.

“Feel her, so fuckin’ perfect, pussy is just made f’me, huh?” You nod weakly as he fucks into you, rougher now, acting as if the moment before wasn’t so intimate that he almost cried sliding in for the first time.

Nothing feels as good as you.

You can’t find a coherent word to respond when black painted nails press into your hips, and he’s starting to fuck you, and fuck you harder than you’ve ever had, you’re barely able to take his thickness, his length, as it slams your cervix over and over. You try to catch a breath, drool spilling out of your mouth as heavy balls slap against your clit, as his pelvis smacks your ass over and over.

“Didn’t hear you answer me.” He huffs, smacking an ass cheek now, grinning ferally at your whine, as your pussy clenches him even tighter.

“Wh-what was the q-question?” He’s leaning so his lips press against your ear, tickling you, making your tummy tense as he sinks inside so deep.

“That pussy, is it made f’me?” He asks again, and you nod, earning a gentle slap on the face. “Use those words.”

“Made for you.” Sukuna’s lost in you then, in how good you feel, in your every cry and moan, his own eyes rolling back in the ecstasy that was your slutty, squishy little pussy, before making himself focus, because he can’t miss looking at you like this.

Arched up and perfect, he pauses just a moment, taking a breath as your walls grip him like a vise. “Gripping me so greedy, shit baby.” He mumbles, as you both gasp for a breath.

“Mnh! S’good I- f-fuck, Sukuna…” Sukuna groans out loud, the wet slaps louder and louder as he loses control, loses himself, urged on by how your body shakes, how he sees a little trail of drool right on the side of your jaw, since when did he notice shit like this!?

You’re ruining him with every stroke, all he can think of is making you cum again and again, have you cum so much it makes up for years of you not, and he slams in, rolling his hips again, watching you shudder, thighs shaking as you start gushing around his cock, making a sticky mess. “That’s it, slutty pussy so greedy hmm?”

You weakly nod, as he now feels your aftershocks, gripping two of your wrists together behind your back and fucking you harder, propping your ass up even higher on the arm of it so your legs are just dangling there. He props a knee up even high, hitting some angle that blinds you. “Ah!”

“Gonna fuck every worry outta that pretty lil’ fuckin’ head.” He huffs, bending low over you, wrapping an arm around your waist just to sink impossibly deeper, stuffing as much of his cock in you as he can fit, a creamy ring forming at the base of his cock the more he strokes. “F-feel s’good, fuck… perfect pussy, y’know that?” You shake your head weakly, and he sighs, letting go of your wrists then.

You’re like some little ragdoll to him the way he picks you up, the way he moves you, now slipping his cock out of your pussy and carrying you again, all you can do is cling to his naked body, eyes fluttering in and out of focus. He plops you down on that bed of his, you errantly notice it’s huge, a four post bed that’s covered in black and silky sheets and blankets.

You also notice a sex swing, thinking what the fuck, and you also see some crazy X on the wall, there are whips and all sorts of things, he chuckles as you eye them, cupping your face with his big hands, strong body leaning heavy weight over you. “I’m not using any of this shit on you, brat, stop freaking out.”

“I… it’s okay if you do like that, but I don’t know about-”

“Shh.” He kisses you deeply then, you feel too much, far too fucking much for this man. “Ignore the swing, innocent little thing huh?”

“Not even.” You glare at him, but he’s grinning and shaking his head, watching as he rubs that tip between your swollen folds.

“Having more than enough fun with this soaking little pussy, don’t need anything else right now.”

The insanity of his room melts, as he looks at you, really looks at you, and you drag him down for another kiss, pussy already sore and aching but you want so much more of him, you want everything. When he’s pulling back and smirking, a huge hand on your tummy, you look down and see it, this bulge of his cock.

“F-fuck… look at that, fucking you up, huh brat?” He huffs, slowly moving it, so obscene you’re blushing, then gasping out as he presses your legs up high, folding you in half under him, hitting even deeper now, your hips are bucking back at it, how deep he is, how full you are. “Ah-ah, don’t run now.”

“Too much. Too big.” He’s moaning as he eases your thighs down just a bit, instead hooking one over an elbow.

“Brat can’t take dick huh?”

“Sukuna… y-you’re a-”

“I’m a what baby?” He’s slamming his cock so deep you scream, soaking him further, hands gripping the silken material under you, head falling back as he grips your hips bruisingly.

“You’re too much, mmm.” You whimper out, he laughs softly, leaning over you again, pulling out just to slam his length back in, and then your eyes hit his, and he can’t take how beautiful you are.

“Drooling, huh slutty girl?” He cooes, swiping at your face, you just moan, as he slips his thumb between your lips, you’re slobbering all around it as he fucks faster and faster, slamming and pressing you even deeper into the firm mattress, taking over all of your senses, it’s all Sukuna, when he finally slows, kissing down your throat and biting hard.

“Ah!”

“Mmm, ya taste good everywhere.” He’s groaning as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, as one of your hands entangle in his silky hair, and the other grips the taut muscles of his back. “Feel her squeezing me, fuckin’ milking me, f-fuck…”

“Sukuna, m’gonna cum again, ngh!” You’re whining, so overstimulated, when he uses one elbow to brace himself, the other hand slipping between you as pinches your little clit, you scream so loud your voice is hoarse.

“That’s it, can’t help yourself hmm? Gonna cum again, so easy?”

“For you… easy for…” Your vision goes black as you gasp out for any sort of breath, and he’s rolling his rough finger right on it. “S-sensitive!”

“Cum again, lemme feel her, shit- mmm.” You’re gushing and pulsing, you hear the sounds now, how wet you really are, mixed with his moans as he watches your pretty face while you cum, knowing he could never get tired of the sight. “There you go, good girl.”

You’re lost again, clinging to him and crying tears, he thinks how pretty they look coming down your cheeks as he is getting close, your walls clamping down with the force of your orgasms. “C-can’t take m-more…”

“You can, baby, hah don’t tap out yet.” He’s grinning all insane when he leans over you fully, bodies flush, your legs wrapped around his thick waist, squeezing against him as he slows finally, just a bit, letting you catch a breath, both of your eyes locking again. “Do I gotta get a morning after pill?”

You catch his meaning, blushing furiously, as he slides out slowly, almost to the tip, before shoving back in to get your attention. “Wh-what?”

“Birth control, brat, I’m not pulling out. Wanna paint your pretty insides with all my fuckin cum.” His words are filthy, he’s filthy, but you want it then, crave it, he watches how your eyes glitter, how your lips part, smirking down at you. “Ya want it, don’t you? Me to fill up your slutty pussy hah?”

“Please… no need for… a-after pill, m’on the p-pill, f-fuckkt…” It’s impossible to focus when he’s fucking you harder now again, smirking down as he knows he’d bust in you regardless.

“Gonna fill you up s’fucking good, gonna drip my cum out as you’re dancing, for men who can never fucking have you.” You’re just a mess now, incoherent when he shoves your legs over his shoulders and pummels you, the loud slap slap slap echoing in his slutty, freaky ass room, along with your pathetic little cries.

“Please… cum in me…” Your words are it for him, he’s pressing inside, and you hear it then, that whimper you heard sucking him, as his eyelashes flutter and those muscles tense, a drip of sweat slipping down to the base of his cock as he thrusts in once more so deep, in your damn cervix, and he starts to fill you, flooding you with ropes of his hot cum.

“Oh my f-fucking… feel s-so…” Sukuna’s slamming his lips down on yours, something he just doesn’t do, as he busts inside your slick walls, his cock pulsing more and more of that gooey cum all in you, moaning against your lips. “She’s so greedy, she w-wants every drop, mmm.”

You’re just shaking as he fills you, back lifting off the bed as his arm wraps you, yanking you further down his dripping cock, pumping you so full you feel it in your stomach, you’re clinging to him as he drinks your cries. He’s kissing you over and over, messy, sloppy, desperate as your muscles are spasming, pushing his own cum down his cock with the force.

“Never felt something that good, jesus fuck…” He’s groaning, biting at your lower lip, resting his forehead for a moment and feeling far too intimate, even more intimate than his cum filling your warm pussy.

“Mnh… It’s so much…”

He laughs a bit, breathless, kissing you again before easing back finally, looking at the marks from his teeth, his fingers, his hands all over your pretty body. He exhales, running his fingers down your thighs, watching goosebumps rise, watching you twitch and jerk.

“S-sensitive…”

“Are you now?” You nod barely, as he kisses down your neck, tongue lapping at the little drops of perspiration from your skin as you whimper, and he finally pulls his cock out, looking down at it. “What a mess we made, huh pretty little slut?”

“Mnh, d-did we?” Your room is spinning, and he’s grinning as he pulls back, watching the sloppy, sticky mess pour down his perfect bedding. “Oh! Oh…”

“Yeah oh, you’re cute.” He chuckles at your narrowed eyes, leaning up on your elbows as he fingers at the sticky cum all over your cunt. “She’s so puffy, hah look at this.”

“Sukuna… w-what are you doing!?” He’s shoving your thighs up high, grinning.

“Hold em up.”

“Why!? We just… mnh!” Sukuna is lapping his own cum right out of your pussy, you’re so overstimulated you’re crying, hiccuping as you yank at that pink hair, his huge hands taking over your ass, your thighs as they threaten to close.

“Taste us together, god.” He’s groaning as he laps up and scoops his own cum that’s just pouring out of your hole with that long pink tongue, making his cock that was satiated twitch again with need for you, as your thighs are squishing his head, earning his scowl. “I said, keep em open.”

“C-can’t, what even are you Sukuna?” You whisper breathless, thinking he’s some sort of demon as he’s chuckling against a puffy little cunt, leaning and forcefully shoving your thighs apart.

“Wanna taste us, brat?” He whispers, and you pause your squirming, breasts heaving with the effort it takes to take him.

“Yes.”

He moans, scooping more of his own cum out of your pussy, his taste buds brushing on your walls before he leans up, gripping your chin and putting two fingers to your lips, opening your mouth. Your tongue hangs out as he spits then, all his cum mixing with his saliva as it drips down in a filthy string into your open mouth, your eyes widen at it, your pussy clenching again.

“Swallow, now.” He orders, and you eagerly do, making him moan, saliva still dripping just a bit from his plump lips, which turn up, he now kisses you, swapping his cum between your tongues, and you’re gripping him with your little fingers, whining. “Remember I told you to eat?”

“Y-yes…” You manage, swallowing his salty sweet cum down, lashes lowering as you study his tongue swiping across his tongue so lewd and sexy, just making you ready again.

“You’re really gonna wish you listened.” You blink before he’s got you flipped to your hands and knees, and you feel the piercing tickling your slit, your clit, you whine out at it, head falling forward as your body is shaking.

“Again- already!?”

“How pathetic was that lil’ bitch you were with?” He practically growls then, spreading your ass cheeks and pussy lips open to peer at you, all red and beat up, just making his sticky cock harder. “Never went back to back?”

“What even is that, I- oh my god.” Sukuna’s not just easing in this time, no he’s slid all the way in your entrance, bottoming out and stuffing you full, you cry out, head buried in the blankets, as his thumbs press into the dimples of your back.

“You think once is enough for me? Of this? Of you? Oh, fuck no, need more and more of this.” He’s slamming into your cunt, hitting even more angles as your ass archess, one of his hands sliding up to wrap in your hair, pulling it until your back is curved, and your head falls back. “Can’t get enough of you.”

His words along with his cock fuck every thought out of your head, just like he said, as he has you on your knees, one hand now wrapping your throat, and your head turns to look at him, vision fading in and out. 

“Want it?” He asks gruffly, as he squeezes your throat. You nod weakly, and his ruby eyes light up. “Trust me?”

“I do trust you.” You whisper, he pauses for a moment, thinking of more words he’d love to hear, to say, but then he’s sinking into your heat, moaning and laying you on your tummy, prone over you.

“Gonna be all me, huh perfect little whore? All me?” You whimper as he takes you over, hooking one leg across yours and sinking impossibly deep, squeezing your throat, you’re lightheaded, you’re floating. He’s whispering in your ear, “All me, all mine, no one’s gonna fuckin’ touch you.”

You can’t imagine wanting anything else, you’re weak as you nod, as he squeezes your oxygen from your little neck with his big hand, his long fingers, sinking into your pussy so deep you can’t tell where you begin and he ends. It is all him, all Sukuna, as he chokes you, as he fucks you, as he kisses you, moaning as you’re cumming all over his cock again.

“Mnh- f-fuck… can’t help yourself, can you?” He’s gruffly talking shit, but as he feels you tighten again he’s close to cumming all over, he releases your throat, seeing your reddened face, kissing you again all sloppy. Your teeth click, tongues dripping down, while he’s crying out. “Want more inside you? Me to fill you till you can’t even fuckin walk?”

“Please!” Your little cry destroys him, he’s cumming in you like this so fucking intimate, kissing you as he fills your pussy again, pushing his cum up and inside your pussy further.

Sukuna was not kidding about no sleep, despite him not putting you in the sex swing or handcuffing you- yes there is an entire cuffing system for his bed- no, he’s having more than enough fun using your pretty body. Every position, several rounds of cum stuffing in your pussy, until he finally allows you a water break, and you truly can’t stand, he has to hold you up.

He’s laughing as you gulp down water, body shaking still, so weak from how much he’s fucked you, more than maybe you’ve ever fucked in a year in the matter of hours. Your hand is so shaky the water slips off the sides, making him have to take the cup from you, his hand cupping your face, putting the glass to your lips.

“Little brat can’t function?” He hums, you sigh, leaning against him, head on his chest, feeling his thrumming heart beat.

“You’re not human, I’m convinced.” He smirks then.

“We’re just getting started.”

“Huh!?”

“I’m giving you a moment.” He leans forward and bends at the waist, pressing you against the counter, completely naked. You should be insecure or embarrassed, shy maybe, because as a stripper you still had certain things covered, but you really couldn’t care about that, not with him. “Look at this body, fuck…”

“You’re sweet to me.”

“Sweet? You should look at those handprints on your ass.” You giggle a bit, but when he’s kissing you again, you’re melting, feeling so much it makes your throat close up, your heart racing, as you lean up, eager for more. “Let’s clean up.”

“Yes please.” He brushes your hair back, all messy from the amount of times he’s pulled it, buried his face in it, ran his fingers through it. It feels… 

“Perfect.”

“Hmm?” You murmur, eyes shutting as he kisses your forehead, far too sweet a gesture for a man like Sukuna, but you’re annoyingly turning him into mush, and he really can’t stand it.

“Said perfect.”

“Me?”

“Yes you, annoying brat.” You giggle, shaking your head. “Don’t make me fuck every insecurity out of you dumb little head.”

“Excuse me? I can’t tell if you’re being sweet or an ass.” He just raises his brows, you shove at him, laughing, then he’s picking you up in his arms, you cling to his neck, breathless.

“Gotta carry you all around and shit, huh? Can’t walk?”

“You like to do it, stop lying.” He hides his smile in your messy hair, as he eases you to sit, starting the shower now, the steam rising around you as soon as you step in, looking at just how luxurious it is, multiple shower heads amongst pretty tan marble tiles, little white ones warmed under your feet when he leads you in. “This shower is nicer than my existence.”

He snorts at that, shaking his head, eying your body covered in forming bruises, feral thinking that everyone will now know you’re his. Even if it hasn’t been explicitly stated yet, he already knows it for the both of you. He feels this annoying ass tenderness for you, as he watches the hot droplets cascading off your sexy, pretty little body, your head falling back, eyes closed in enjoyment.

Soon Sukuna is standing behind you, his hands immediately on your shoulders, rubbing the knots out, making you lean into his touch. “This is heaven.” You murmur, his hands slipping down to your hair, brushing it to the side and leaning low, his lips against your ear.

“Mm, it’s just a shower, brat, I can make you feel way better, hmm?” He says, voice low, his cock hardening again for you, poking at your back thick and hot, but he doesn’t move on it yet, just lets the warm water run over the both of you.

“Better than anything.” You feel yourself leaning more on him, as the water is  washing away the sticky mess of your love making, the heat making your skin tingle as his thick cock pulses. Your heat in your tummy starts again, and your nipples perk up, he eyes them, his hands gripping them, eliciting a cry from you, your ass arching more against him.

“Better than anything, huh?”

“Anything.” At your whisper he’s got you turning around, your hands slip up his slick chest to his shoulders, watching the water running down his abs, his cock with that reddened tip fully hard again, and he’s just staring at you with those ruby eyes, gulping at how much you make him feel with those words. “What’s that look, Sukuna?”

“Thinking about everything I’m gonna do to you.” You bite your lower lip, as his hands find purchase at the nip of your waist. “I’m gonna fuck you again, and again, until you can’t even think of anyone else but me.”

“Sukuna, there is no one else I think of.” You whisper, leaning up as he leans down, and you kiss him, deep and sloppy and so desperate, and he groans, grabbing your thighs, hoisting you up so you wrap around his waist.

“Only me in that pretty head, only my cock inside your tight lil’ fucking cunt, huh?” Your legs are shaking as you’re pressed against the slippery tile wall, his possessive words just making you wetter. “Say it.”

“Only you.” Sukuna exhales, his grip is firm on your ass, as he starts to fuck you again, his cock sliding in so easily, because of how much you’ve cum already, how much he’s fucked you, stretched your little pussy out.

The water is hot on your skin, but not as hot as his touch, not as warm as his body, as he whispers filthy things that sound like pretty love confessions. “Perfect little slut, made f’me, hah- made to take my cock, yeah?”

You just nod weakly, feeling his cock hit your g-spot with that piercing again, your nails digging into his shoulders and slipping as the water pummels both of you, burning hot. You’re so sore then, but you crave it, crave more, gasping out, toes curling as he shoves in so deep, rolling his hips and pulling back.

“Look at that pretty face, so fucked out.” He murmurs, watching while he lifts and slams you down on his cock, your eyes roll back, mouth open in an O, he knows you’re close again. “That’s it, pathetic slut can’t help cumming, so cock hungry?”

“Mnh!” You are just too fucked out to answer anymore, when he’s got his hand on your neck, his thumbs pressing gently on your pulse point, tilting your chin up.

“Look at me when you cum all over my cock, brat.” You struggle to focus, then you’re shattering again, so lost in his eyes that you don’t even realize when he’s cumming again, until he’s moaning and kissing you brutally, filling you up so hot all in your tummy. “How many loads- hah- you gonna take?”

“Shh- f-fuck!” You’re riding it out, the orgasm him painting your walls gives you, as you’re kissing down his neck, clinging to him weakly.

“Perfect girl, made to be filled by me. Just me.” You sigh, as he eases out of you, then eases you to stand, legs wobbly. “Just me.”

“Sukuna… you’re insane.” He smirks now, shaking his head.

“You really got no idea.”

After the night, you got absolutely no sleep. Aside from literally passing out on him with his cock in you, he woke you up with a not so gentle smack on your ass, as you were bent over in doggy and fading out. You’d sleepily grumbled until he finally decided to cuddle you in his bed, and fuck you feel so good in his arms.

Too good.

Sukuna’s cock was prodding at your entrance, even as you’re in his dress shirt, and you hiss in pain as he touches it, as his tip presses against you, and he’s toying with your puffy little clit. “Need you again.”

“I c-can’t, Kuna…” You whisper, pathetic and weak, half asleep in this man’s strong arms.

He pauses then. “Kuna? The fuck is that?”

You’re loopy, smiling back at him, eyes lidded and barely open, bare faced and beautiful to him, the moonlight glinting through the window now and illuminating your pretty face. “Issa nickname…”

“Stupid.” He huffs, earning another tired giggle, no drug or liquor could ever feel like being fucked out by Sukuna, you’re sure of it. “You’re cockdrunk, tch.”

“S’your fault, Kuna.” You’re giggling as he scowls, cupping your face, the fan whirling softly above you both as you feel the silk against your skin from him shuffling under the blankets.

“Stop the stupid nickname, brat.” He orders, you shake your head then. “You are a brat, not listening for shit.”

“You love it. Shh.” You kiss him so sweetly, he melts against you, pulling you close as he exhales against your lips, drowning in you. “Can I get jus’ a couple hours, I have my kid tomorrow.” You yawn then, and he pulls back, frowning.

“Can’t you stay tomorrow too? I will pay her more.” You blink sleepily, shaking your head.

“No, too much time… I’ll miss Touma.” You’re fading, and Sukuna feels too goddamn much, as he stares at you, as he thinks of the ripping feeling in his heart at you ever leaving.

Would he have to just move in the damn kid!?

Would you even go for this?

It’s too soon and it’s stupid but he cuddles you then, thinking of stupid, stupid things, a girl that makes him question too much just existing. When you snuggle against him, and he holds you, he wants to keep you here so badly it makes him almost sick, your little sleepy smile as you murmur a stupid nickname.

What have you done to him?

*****

“Ow, ow, ow, ow.” You’re hissing as Sukuna is chuckling at you, while you’re wobbling out to his car, wearing his jacket and your pajamas underneath, your hair insane from falling asleep after the second shower.

Six times he fucked you.

Six times he busted inside you.

Six times!?

That’s not counting the amount of times he had his face buried between your thighs, or the times he was fucking your throat. That was just the amount of loads he’d pumped in your pussy. He’s leaned back in his seat, you get to see one of his cars, some fancy sports thing, that purrs as he starts it, chuckling at you.

“Poor baby can’t take all this dick, can she?”

“Sukuna, that's not fair. Tell me this isn’t normal!?” He pauses then, sighing a bit as he drives.

“No, that much isn’t normal for me either.” He murmurs, before his smirk is back, eyeing your pained expression. “Are you doing okay?”

“No, I am not.” Your tummy rumbles then, and you blush in embarrassment.

“Want food on the way home?”

“No, you don’t have to…”

“Let’s just swing through somewhere.” It feels too comfortable, too perfect, his hand on your thigh as he drives, it feels like you’re all his, truly like you’re meant to be there, and that should scare the shit out of him. But he’s too far gone to be scared of it at all.

“Okay, thank you.” You yawn cutely, melting him despite his cocky, arrogant little attitude he presents. He swings through a breakfast place soon, and you lean forward. “Um, Touma likes french toast.”

“What about you, brat?”

“Me… um… in a second.” You’re rattling off things for your kid, irritating him since your tummy is clearly growling again.

“And for you?” He asks again, scowling now, you giggle a bit.

“Protein for recovery needed. Egg and sausage?”

He rolls his eyes, ordering it, slapping at your hand when it goes to your purse. “The fuck are you doing?”

“Kuna, it’s for my kid too.” He frowns once more, smacking your hand again, like you’re some little kid touching what you shouldn’t.

“Don’t call me Kuna, shit. Also, hell no, I’ll pay, it’s literally nothing.” You ease back a bit, as he hands you the bags and drink holder, smiling at him. “Stop that, it’s nothing.”

“It’s sweet. Really sweet.” You tear up a bit by the time you’re home, earning a further look of confusion on his face.

“Don’t cry over some cheap breakfast, shit.”

“No you’re just… Sukuna it’s been all me, everything, just this one little thing… it was sweet.” You murmur, eyes glimmering, and he realizes then, just what you must have been through, at least some of it, if this meant anything to you at all.

“Well, just… just let me do shit for you all the time, then. Stop bitching about it.” He says with narrowed eyes, and you giggle just a bit, the sound tightening his chest far too much when you lean forward, little hand brushing against his jaw as you lean forward.

“Last night was… there are no words. I hope um, it wasn’t once?” You whisper, and Sukuna drags you against him right in front of your house, one hand pressed on your waist as he looks at you.

“I did fuck your brains out, if you think that’s all I want. The fuck? You think I don’t want you every day and night.” You exhale in relief, kissing him then, so sweetly he should make it rough, right? He should grip a titty, your ass, bite your lip, anything but kiss back just as tenderly, inhaling the sweet scent of you filling the car, mixing with the breakfast sitting in your lap.

“Even if it’s just um… sex. I’ll do it, Kuna. I feel so good with you.” He should rejoice in this, a man who just wants that, wants it easy in life, but his jaw clenches when he cups your face.

“I fucked every braincell out.” You laugh, shaking your head. “That’s not… tch, not all I… y’know get out, brat. Annoying.”

You smile at him, knowing what he means as his jaw clenches, pressing a kiss on the cleft of his chin, then nuzzling your nose against his, far too sweet, far too cute, destroying him with every precious moment. Making him a little bitch, soon he’d be ordering fruity drinks like goddamn Gojo, what you do to him, with your cheeks and eyes all bright, your smile.

God, your smile.

He sees then, behind you, a little boy, he looks just like you, along with a blue haired girl, standing on your front porch. You turn your face then, smiling so pretty his stupid heart hurts. “I should go now, will I see you at work tonight?”

“Of course you will.” He says, voice husky, as he leans to un-seatbelt you, curiously looking out again.

Would he ever meet your kid?

Would you all ever really… get that far?

What would Sukuna even say to a damn kid? It’s not like he has been around any, or had thoughts of having his own, but he wants every part of you, and if this is the biggest, he suddenly feels the need to know about it. “You love that kid huh?”

“More than anything. But… someone is occupying my heart kind of fast.” Your breathy whisper is met with his widened ruby eyes, when you kiss him once more, smiling sweetly. “I’ll see you tonight, Kuna.”

“Tch.” Is all you get, but Sukuna watches, as you pick up your little boy in your arms, grinning happily, and your kid is smacking kisses on your cheek, melting him more than he’ll admit when he drives off, missing you already.

You miss him the moment he drives off, sighing happily at Touma then, who is squeezing your neck so tight. “Mama, I had so much fun!”

“Did you!?”

“So much! Miwa made cookies!”

“I saw! I’ve got french toast.”

Touma’s eyes light up. “Yum!” Then when you’re inside, arranging breakfast after Miwa leaves, he tugs at your hair.

“What is it, baby?” You ask, leaning down as he’s got one hand clamped around a french toast stick.

“Mama looks happy.” Your lips tremble at his assessment, eyes tearing up at his next words. “Mama doesn’t smile a lot.”

“I’m so sorry, Touma. Mama gets tired, but you always make me happy.” You’re crying now, as he touches you with sticky french toast fingers, cinnamon brushing across your cheek.

“No mama, I’m happy. You smile. Pretty.” You grin now, and Touma grins. “Pretty, mama is pretty.”

“And you’re the most handsome boy.” You pull him against you, the love in your heart filling you completely, as you kiss his soft hair. “Touma you always make me happy, even if I don’t show it. Mama gets a little stressed out.”

“S’okay mama.” You kiss his forehead sweetly, then he’s off to playing when you clean up, thinking of Sukuna.

He made you smile.

He makes you feel so good.

Sure, physically, but how his hands entwined with yours? How he looked at you? You don’t know if he’ll get serious, but everything in you craves more of him, to know more of him, than just the physical. Both of you still know so little, but it’s like he’s given this brightness in a dark world, where Touma was all you had for that, but you realize your stress and sadness affected him even.

You absolutely nap with Touma in his little toddler bed, snoring and cuddling, because honestly Sukuna has worn you out. Your phone keeps going off after a couple hours, and Touma hands it to you, smacking on your face to wake you up. “Mama, it’s daddy.”

Your heart stops then, pounding in your chest as you take the phone, holding it to your ear. “What?” You say tersely, earning Naoya’s chuckle.

“I’m outside, sweetheart, wanna let me in?”

This chap absolutely was smut filled, reader needed this okay!?!? The next we will be getting back into the plot- clearly Naoya is here. I planned on six parts but it may go longer bc there's a lot I need to do lol. I hope to hear what you think <3

Taglist #1 @naammiii @naina326 @1worm1 @yenayaps @shokosbunny @sukubusss @msniks @kittyyyyykats @nyxly1412 @trashsuarecan @dumbbunny98 @monster-effer @tojis-ball-sack @tangsakura @friesnkwtchup @uhnosav @lhhlver @attackonnat @moonchhu @mat-mat-mat @cherryjain17 @havkjhdecs @stargirl-mayaa @waterfal-ling @the-dark-creature @lulunx @saitamaswifey @spacefae-x @deitysdream @sorahatake @gojoscumslut @stainednailpolishremover @kidd3ath @clp-84 @rinkomei @catastayy @oneirataxiaa @inthedarkshadows000 @travistheaussie @cold-blooded-girls @emi311 @blublublubby @fluttershyfangs @actuallynarii @7thsthings @ilovemeni @erluu @for-hearthand-home @angellliqua

(rest in reblogsss)

Buy me a glass of wine🍷 - Gen Masterlist

[pedge-page]

does joel take care of wifeys bush for her while she’s pregnant? I have a feeling he would appreciate hers very much

18+ ONLY

You would absolutely insist on having it shaved, and you'd shave it yourself as much as possible while pregnant. But when you get to that point that you can't see or reach over your belly, you call upon your doting, obedient, loyal husband who would do anything you ask of hi-

"No."

You blink at him. With a razor blade in one hand and shaving cream in the other, you're naked as your soon-to-be-baby will be on the day of her birth.

"What."

He shrugs. "Said no."

"But... its..."

"It's beautiful."

You scoff. "C'mon Joel." Holding out the razor and cream, you smile with pleading eyes.

He only shakes his head again. "I'm not doing it. I wanna enjoy the bush."

"The what?"

He chuckles. "Heard me." He paces forward, your belly bumping his as you are forced to step backwards. "I said--" he reaches behind you to knead your ass-- "I want--" You find yourself pinned in front of the sink-- "the bush."

"I dont-- what does that even mean?"

But he's already kissing down your belly button.

"Leg," he commands.

You give him a sideways look from above, barely seeing his lidded eyes over the swell of your tummy.

You whimper but lift your thigh, enabling him to hook it over his shoulder. His hand finds its way to cup against your lower back so the countertop doesn't uncomfortably cut into your spine.

"Joel..." you whine. "Its just....so..." you cover your face with your hands, though you can't even see his expression down there in the great beyond anyway.

"S'magical," he replies, nose nuzzling your newly grown hair. "Ooo baby. It's like my beard rubbed off on ya down here."

"How is THAT sexy?"

"You like my beard don't you?"

Fair point. "But not on me. Not down there."

He chuckles, inhaling your scent with a kiss to your pelvis.

"Let's get explorin," he grumbles with a sly smile, before spreading you expertly apart with his fingers. His lips attached to your clit, and he starts sucking with such precision, youre not sure what "exploring" hes talking about. The man has chartered every millimeter of area down there. Playing you like a piccolo, Joel eats you out and nudges your g spot until you're crying and grasping the sink behind you.

Once you've cum three times on his tongue, you're exhausted. "J-joel," you plea.

"Mmm?" He pulls away, showcasing his soaking mustache and lopsided drunk grin. "S-wrong, Momma?" He rubs along your belly with his slick hand, soothing your twiching body.

You feel dizzy, unable to argue with him. "M'not...asking you... take care... of-of... it...'gain."

He giggles into your belly. "Honey," he tuts. "Wasn't gonna ask your permission. I'm gonna enjoy this for as many nights as I can get it. Now how about I take ya to bed so we can continue preserving these forests?"

- - - -

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow @wintersquirrel @fluffygoffpanda @picketniffler @bbyanarchist @94namkooksworld

[runforthehillsbestie]

Use Me For Once

Michael Myers x fem reader

Michael Myers has been stalking you all night and decides he's going to stab with something else for a change

porn without plot, noncon, dubcon if you squint, p in v, size kink/difference, choking, rough sex, creampie, Michael gets what Michael wants

This isn't your lucky night. Even with your favorite dildo, your orgasm is stubbornly out of reach. You hadn't even bothered to change out of the clothes you'd gone clubbing in, you'd just tugged your panties off and reached under your skirt, eager to chase the rush of dancing all night. Well, you rushed for nothing. This is the third time you've gotten close only for it to slip away at the last moment. You sigh into the darkness of your bedroom and drop the dildo on the sheets.

"Now this is just sad," you mumble.

Time to take a shower and watch a movie and try not to think about how badly you want to get fucked. You flick the bedside lamp on and nearly have a heart attack. A tall man is standing motionless beside your bed, barely a foot away. He's dressed in a mechanic suit and a strange white mask with fake brownish hair.

"Who are you? What the--" The rest of your sentence comes out in a thin, unintelligible garble as his hand locks around your throat and tightens.

You try to sit up but he promptly slams you back down, barely expending any effort in doing so, ridding you of the remaining air in your lungs. The blank expression of his mask makes him seem like something out of a nightmare. You try to scream but all that comes out is a squeak as you claw at his hand, desperate for oxygen.

"Please," you choke.

He lets up the pressure and you suck in mouthfuls of air, your vision full of spots. Your neck is warm and wet with something. You touch your skin and your fingers come away red. You wheeze, your sore throat refusing to make any sound louder than that as you gaze up at the man standing there dispassionately. His hands are bloody and so is the mechanic suit. At least, you're pretty sure those darker patches are blood. He's holding a knife in one hand that's still dripping blood. Where did it come from? You don't want to know. You roll onto your belly and try to crawl to the other side of the bed but he grabs your ankle and yanks you back. Your top rolls over your ribcage and almost over your tits as you're dragged through the sheets and to the edge of the bed. You shriek as he flips you over and shoves your skirt over your stomach, baring you to him and leaving streaks of blood on your skin. At the weight of those black eyes, you begin to shiver with fear.

"P-please don't kill me," you stammer.

He remains standing over you--Jesus he's huge--and picks up your dildo, which looks pink and cutesy in his brutish hand. His thumb works over the buttons and it comes to life with a hum. You shake your head.

"No," you whine, but he slams his palm down on your belly along with the knife.

While the blade rests flat on your stomach, the threat is very clear. You won't get cut unless you move around too much, so you go limp but you keep speaking. Why is he doing this? Why you? Who did he kill? He doesn't respond to any of your questions. He holds you down while his other hand slides between your legs. When you refuse to relax them he drops the toy and squeezes your thigh so hard you're sure the soft skin is about to burst from the pressure. The muscles in your thighs quake as you part them. He picks up the dildo again and slides the vibrating tip through your folds. It always feels so much better when someone else does it. Even now. You grip his wrist as tingles shoot through your body

"Please don't," you say.

He looks between your legs, the mask hiding any expression he might have. He presses the tip of the toy against your entrance, then shoves it in like he's trying to ram a tent peg into the ground. You stiffen in shock. The burning pain comes a second later. You've never put the whole thing in you before. You shudder like an animal impaled by a hunting spear and clutch at his wrist, digging your nails in.

"It hurts!" You gasp. "Please take it out!"

You try to yank it out by yourself but he pins your wrists together with his too-big hand, and holds your hands just out of reach, watching your pussy clench helplessly around the intrusion. The vibrations feel good, but you've been stuffed too full and too quickly. That cancels out any pleasure you may have gotten out of it. You can hear the man's measured breathing, deep but steady. It sends a chill down your spine because you can't read anything from his body language. Why is he doing this to you? You're still wet from your earlier attempts at masturbating, so the toy glides easily when he pulls it out of you.

He leans off to the side and you hear a soft thump as he discards the dildo on the bedside table. The drawer rattles open. It takes a moment for you to realize what he's doing and you begin to thrash again. He's got your biggest dildo. The one you ordered one drunken night that you've never used because it's too fucking big.

"No! It'll rip me in two!" You shriek.

In the blink of an eye, he scoops the sticky knife off your stomach and straddles your torso, pointing the sharp tip at your neck and going so far as to press it to the hollow of your throat until you feel a sting.

You can and you will, is the message you're getting.

He's straddling you lightly because you can still breathe comfortably. Tears leak down from your face as you gaze up at him, hoping he'll change his mind and leave you be. He doesn't. He guides the dildo up your mouth and waits. With his back to the lamp, his mask is dipped into even darker shadows, haunting in its blankness. Slowly you open your mouth but he doesn't shove the toy in, just angles his head slightly and waits some more. With a whimper, you lap at the silicone head of the dildo. It's shaped just like a dick, complete with veins and all. You know he's going to shove this in you too, so you try to get it as wet as you possibly can. When you try reasoning with him again he shuts you up by shoving the thing into your mouth. He's not very gentle and just ends up hammering a good quarter of the toy into your mouth until you gag. He pulls it out and you cough.

He slips off of you and stands, pushing your thighs wide open. He's still holding his knife and it's a miracle it doesn't cut you even as it lingers so close to your skin. He notches the toy against your pussy and your breath hitches. Fuck, it's not even in and it already feels like it's going to be too much. He pauses, maybe noting the size difference. That's the only indication that he realizes he just might break you because he proceeds to push the toy into your pussy, inch by unforgiving inch. You shriek and claw at his wrist to no avail. The pain is an overwhelming sensation you want to get away from and you attempt to scramble away but he slams his hand down on your lower belly, once again trapping you in place. You moan as the pressure makes you feel like you're stuffed even fuller than before.

"No more," you eventually gasp at what you think is the halfway mark. "That's as far as I go, I can't take anymore."

He pauses. He can probably feel it too, the way the blunt head of the silicone dick is bumping against your cervix. You wince as he jiggles the toy, testing. He yanks it out and your instinct is to curl in on yourself and lament the ache in your poor stretched pussy, but he's not done with you yet. His hand lands on your pussy and your eyes widen.

"No!" The protest is explosive, almost a snarl that rattles out of you.

He doesn't like that and proceeds to put you in your place by choking you again until you're whining and bucking on the bed, feeling your nerves go all staticky as you're deprived of oxygen. As soon as he lets up the pressure enough for you to breathe, you're begging for forgiveness.

"I'm sorry," you babble, trying to bargain. "You can do whatever you want, I-I won't stop you."

He cocks his head to the side. Then he takes a single step back and reaches up to his neck to tug on the zipper there, drawing it down his chest, over his navel, and lower than that. He's wearing a red t-shirt underneath. No, it's white rather, just soaked with so much blood that there's barely any white left. He has nothing else on underneath, you discover as he parts the suit just enough to pull out his cock. Shit. Your eyes widen as you realize the reason he used those toys on you was to stretch you out for his cock, which is proportionate to his size. That is to say, absolutely massive. He grips it tight like it's not a part of him, just something troublesome he happens to be stuck with.

"Oh god," you sob as he steps forward, his knees brushing the edge of your bed.

You scoot up all on your own, to give him room to get on the bed with you. Better that than getting choked again, you figure. The mattress dips under his weight as he puts an arm on either side of you and almost gingerly leans down. The distance left between your bodies would've been amusing if you weren't about to get ripped up by his cock. You badly want to snap your thighs closed, but you know what will happen if you do. He's loosely holding his knife and you can see the gleam of it just a couple inches away from your head. He takes his cock in his hand to guide it to your entrance before he returns to supporting himself above you. His hips drive forward, far slower than the first two things he stuck in you. You grip the sheets and struggle not to tense up, sucking in sharp, panicked breaths, anticipating the pain of him ramming into your cervix because there's no way you can fit all of him into you.

He's a burning hot rod branding your delicate insides. You bite your lip until you draw blood and count to distract yourself. Finally, he comes to a stop barely halfway in, and you know you're done for. You close your eyes to brace for the pain, but it doesn't come. Instead, the mattress shifts and he sighs. The sound is barely distinguishable from one of his breaths, but it's just short enough to catch your attention. Your eyes flutter open. He sits back on his haunches, the motion drawing him out of you slightly. His hand, copper-colored with half-dried blood, lands on your mound, stroking through your short pubic hair. He finds your clit and grinds down on it with his thumb, rough and clumsy.

You speak before you can stop yourself. "A little softer?"

His mask shifts so he's now looking at you. There's nothing to pick up on, but you have a feeling you're one step away from getting stabbed.

"Never mind," you say weakly.

He carries on but seems to consider your words because he eases up a little with the force, twirling his thumb in a light stroke over your clit. You moan entirely by accident. He's looking at you again. You press your lips tightly together to keep from making involuntary noises, but you can't help the way your hips begin to twitch as the pain softens into more of a dull ache. His mask tilts as your pussy clamps down on his cock. Your breath comes out in a sharp huff as he pulls out and nudges his way back in, watching the way you stretch all over again to take him. His fingers stroking over your clit help. Much to your shame, you can feel yourself growing wetter, clenching down on him more frequently as he fucks deeper into you. He magically gains a couple more inches as your body begins to relax. All that movement pulls you closer to him and your ass is now almost in his lap. He seems to notice it at the same time as you do and goes completely still.

You haul yourself up on your elbows intending to scoot up a little to put some distance between you again, but he flattens you to the bed with his hand pressed between your breasts. He can probably feel your heart flailing in your chest. He doesn't want you going anywhere. He thrusts into you as far as he can go. Except for his rock-solid cock, there's no indication he's enjoying what he's doing. His movements are precise, almost mechanical. You find it oddly sexy, how little he's giving you to work with. Nothing but his cock and now the touch of his clothed thighs against the backs of your own. You shudder as his finger passes over your clit again. He speeds up, a demand of sorts. If you don't manage to cum will he stab you? The thought should have all your arousal melting away but instead acts like fuel on a fire, sending the flames roaring high. You have to press a hand to your mouth when you do cum, to keep from squealing and annoying him.

For a brief moment, you lose yourself and try to grab him and pull him closer with pleas for him to fuck you harder, to fuck you through your orgasm until your body shorts out from overstimulation. You snap back to your senses and realize your fingers are wrapped around his wrist but unable to go all the way around. He's frozen above you. The way he's holding the knife makes you feel like he's thinking about where to stab you. You quickly release him.

"Sorry," you whisper, your pathetic little cunt still squeezing down on him in the aftershocks.

He puts his other hand on your belly again and rocks into you so deep and fast that it feels like he's bullying your soul right out of your body, taking up all the room he can find, till you're more him than you are you. The force gradually pushes you across the bed till your head falls off the opposite side, your breaths hitching as he punches the air out of your body. The last thing you expect is to cum again, like this. Your head flies up and you stare at him in shock. Cumming twice in one night is legendary for you.

"Fuck me," you curse as your walls bear down and dizzying pleasure sweeps through your body, unable to stay quiet. "Fuck." You scrabble for a pillow for something to hold onto, quivering around his cock.

You don't hear him when he finally reaches his climax but you feel it, pouring into you like warm honey and then dripping when he pulls out, seeping into your bedsheets. He slips off the bed and tucks his cock back into the mechanic suit. His knife is lying right beside you, like a test. Are you going to try to stab him? Fuck no. You clutch the pillow to your chest and watch as he zips up and finally picks up the knife. For a long moment, you stare at each other. Him right into your fearful eyes, and you into soulless pits of black. He turns and leaves your bedroom, and you go limp with exhaustion and the beginnings of relief. When your legs no longer feel like jelly you slink out of your room and check all the nooks and crannies in your house that are big enough to hide a man of his stature. Your front door is cracked open, and you're sure you locked it when you first came home. A single drop of rust-colored blood is on your doormat. You lock the door with shaking hands and lock all the windows as well.

He's gone, you tell yourself, but those words are hardly a comfort. He didn't kill you tonight, but who's to say what will happen tomorrow?

@runforthehillsbestie

[fangirlmermaid]

can you write something where Wanda is pregnant (and stays pregnant)?? 😔🙏

Yes, I can! Sorry, it took so long to write this!

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!reader

Summary: You treated your wife to a relaxing night

Warning: Fluff, lightly proofread, grammar, and punctuation mistakes

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Detka, you didn’t have to do this.” Wanda smiled

Wanda had been feeling uncomfortable and in pain since her bump first popped out, but now that she’s eight months pregnant with twins, it’s gotten worse. You feel guilty wishing you could take away her pain.

“I had to do something,” you stated, looking around the candlelit bathroom.

Wanda cupped your cheeks and placed a soft kiss on the tip of your nose and forehead, finishing with a gentle, lingering kiss on your lips. Some of the guilt fades away from seeing her so happy.

“Now, you don’t move a muscle. I will take care of you, flower. You’re in good hands.” You smiled, untying the drawstrings of her sweatpants. You carefully removed her clothes, helped her into the warm bath water that you’d sprinkled some Epsom salt.

You kneeled behind the tub, twirled your wife’s hair, and pinned it with a claw clip. You smiled at the way her bump poking out of the water, just one more month, you tell yourself, one more month, and your boys will be here.

“Got any music?” Wanda wonders, looking over her shoulder at you, “Like you have to ask.” You playfully rolled your eyes, grabbing your phone and pressing play on the Brighterton soundtrack, knowing that Wanda always loves listening to it when she’s trying to relax.

You rubbed Wanda’s tensed shoulders. “Detka,” Wanda moaned, tilting her head down. “Feel good?” You asked, but already knowing the answer, Wanda nodded, mumbling Thank you like it was a mantra, “No need to thank me, flower. It’s the least I can do.” You assured, leaning over the tub's edge to press a feather-light kiss onto her shoulder.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once you helped dry Wanda off, you guided your wife into your shared room. You gently sat her at the edge of the bed, and you quickly grabbed her new pajamas. You remember Wanda is always sweating when she sleeps, so you grabbed a maroon red spaghetti strap tank top and black sleep shorts.

“Arms up, baby,” You mumbled. Wanda did as she was told. You slipped on the tank top and pulled it to her belly button. You helped her into her panties and sleep shorts.

You kneeled in front of her, your hands finding their way to your wife’s bump, and you could feel the twins rolling around. “Do you want me to rub lotion onto your bump?” You asked, gazing at your wife as if she hung up the moon and the stars; to you, she does. Wanda shook her head. “No, thank you, Detka.” Wanda gave you the toothiest grin. You pressed two soft kisses on Wanda’s bump.

You helped Wanda into her side of the bed. “Do you need anything else?” “Just you” "You got it.”

You climbed into your side of the bed. Wanda rolled onto her back “No” “What?” “You're not supposed to be on your back, flower.”

Wanda giggled, turning onto her side to face you “Better?” “Much” You placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

You gazed at your wife, your heart could explode with love.

“What?” Wanda wondered “Nothing…I just love you so much. All three of you” “We love you, too.” Wanda turned her back towards you. She moved closer to you, so close that the two of you could morph into one. You placed your hand on her stomach in a protective manner.

“Get some sleep, flower. In the morning, I will make whatever you want,” sealing your promise with a soft kiss on her shoulder blade.

[gravehags]

the undone and the divine

Pairing: Swiss x f!Reader

Rating: Explicit

18+ ONLY MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Tags: virgin reader, first time, PinV sex, oral sex (f! receiving), hand action, ghouls being ghouls

Words: 2,962

Summary: You told him he could make it up to you. So he does.

a/n: sequel to my previous story heaven in hiding so go check that out before you get into this! basically i just think being a ghoul consort would cure me, personally. ghoul bicycle, if you will. ANYWAY.

~~~

You’ve never been in the ghoul den before.

Swiss has you by the hand, gently leading you down a hallway lined with doors until he finally stops at the second one from the end. It’s unlocked as he opens it and ushers you quietly inside. It’s small, but ultimately very cozy. A large bed sits in the center, dark covers hastily made. On the floor to the side stand his guitars. Stacks of books are piled throughout the space, their titles mostly obscured in the dim light coming from his bedside table. The space is so thoroughly Swiss you can’t help but smile despite the nervousness bubbling in your belly. When you finally turn to him, he looks almost as anxious as you do. His eyes dart from yours to the bed and back to you, and he twists his hands as if he’s holding himself back from something.

“I like your room,” you finally say, breaking the silence. “It suits you.”

He laughs a little and rubs the back of his neck. When you take a step towards him, hand extended, he steps backwards slightly.

“We don’t have to do this,” he blurts out. Your little smile fades and your stomach drops.

“Oh,” you say dumbly, kicking yourself. “I’m sorry I thought…because we…um. Nevermind. I’ll just go.”

Cheeks aflame you begin to head towards the door, achingly embarrassed at your presumption. How stupid, you thought. How naive.

Your hand is on the knob when he comes at you from behind, spinning your shoulders and pinning you to the door. The breath is knocked from your lungs as he holds you there, mirroring the position the two of you had earlier in the cloister. You’re shaking like a leaf when he lets out something between a laugh and a sigh.

“You really think I’m going to let you go now?” he finally breathes, fluttering the hairs on the side of your head. As soon as you move your gaze from his chest to his face, you exhale shakily. His pupils are blown and you know yours are too as he leans down to ghost his lips over yours.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Say you want me to stop and I will.”

When he pulls back finally, he cups your cheeks in his palms, tilting your face up.

“I want this,” you whisper, and his knees buckle slightly. “Swiss, I want you.”

His lips are on yours milliseconds after the words leave your mouth, cradling your head in his large palms even as he guides you away from the door. Suddenly, his hands are everywhere - on your shoulder blades, your hips, molding themselves to the curve of your ass. You trip as he continues backing you to the foot of his bed, causing the two of you to laugh into each other’s mouths. Your fist is beginning to ache from how tightly you are holding the front of his shirt, as if you are afraid he’s going to vanish into thin air. His tongue slides against yours as he frets at the hem of your shirt, desperate to reach skin. When you finally part to catch your breath, he’s looming over your half-reclined body with a knee between your legs, tail twitching behind him. Hands trembling, you reach for the buttons on his shirt and begin working them undone as he presses his lips to your forehead. When you stumble, he places his hands over yours to guide you in finishing the job, finally removing the black garment from his broad shoulders. In turn, he tugs at the edge of your shirt, pulling it gently over your head and throwing it aside. When his hands slide over your sides, finally making contact with your skin you both sigh.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” Swiss groans as he reaches for your bra clasp. “No fucking idea.”

“You should have told me,” you pant as he slides your bra off and gently urges you back against the covers.

“Didn’t want to scare you off.” The look in his eyes darkens as he takes in your bare breasts, and involuntarily your arms move in a desire to cover yourself up.

“Don’t,” he says softly, placing a large hand on your sternum. “Please don’t hide from me.”

When he finally shifts to cup your breast in his hand, you whine. He brushes his thumb over your hardened nipple and you feel his cock kick in his pants against your leg.

“You like this?” he says with a gentle grin, repeating the motion, to which your hips buck. His smile turns dark as he lowers his mouth to you, lips brushing the underside of your breast. You know you’re making embarrassing noises by the time his mouth latches onto your nipple and his hips rut against you as he sucks. Head falling back you slide your hand into the dark curls on his head and scratch at his scalp, making him moan against your skin. When he pulls away you whine and he laughs, his warm breath dancing over you.

“So needy, huh? I’ve barely even touched you and you want it that bad.”

“You’re one to talk,” you frown, pushing him away slightly, “what was all that in the hallway, huh?”

He hums deep in his throat, nearly a purr, before taking your nipple between his clawed thumb and forefinger and pinching. Your yelp is cut off by his laughter as he slides his hands down your sides to the waistline of your pants. He’s eye level with the button of your jeans, and your cheeks flush deeper than you had thought possible. You’re watching him like a hawk as he unbuttons them and slowly slides the zipper down. He’s grinning when he places a sweet kiss to your belly as he scooches the garment off your hips and down your thighs. When they’re off and abandoned on the ground next to him, you once again fight the desire to hide yourself from his gaze. Swiss notices the way your hands twitch in discomfort and, his smile softening, he brings both of them to his lips. One by one he kisses the knuckles of both your hands and you watch him, half-sitting up.

“You okay?” he asks, all levity gone from his voice.

“Yeah,” your voice cracks when you say it, making you writhe with embarrassment. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

He cocks his head and rests his chin on your belly, gazing up at you with a look so adoring it makes your heart skip a beat.

“You’re okay, babygirl,” he says, fingers stroking your sides soothingly. He presses another kiss to the soft skin of your stomach. “I got you.”

You must have hesitated with your nod, because he’s gripping your hips firmly and looking at you intently.

“Do you trust me? Tell me.”

You take a deep breath and look him squarely in the eyes. Placing your hands over his, you smile sincerely.

“I trust you, Swiss. I’m just nervous but…I trust you.”

He nods, maintaining eye contact as he slips your underwear down your hips, exposing all of you to him. If you thought you were flushed before you were positively glowing now. He lowers his lips to brush your mons and you sigh contentedly.

“Swiss,” you breathe as he presses feather-light kisses at the juncture of your legs. “I need you. Please.”

He groans from between your legs, claws gripping into the meat of your thighs and tail thrashing behind him. When he gently spreads you open and licks the length of your slit, you cry out, hips bucking. He does it again, and again, and your hand flies to the base of his horns and grips.

“Soaked for me,” he growls in between licks, “fucking drenched.”

You nod desperately, watching as he teases your clit with the tip of his tongue. He’s gripping at you tight enough to draw blood but when he slides his tongue inside you and his nose bumps at your clit, you find you can’t bring yourself to care. He’s lapping at you like a man dying of thirst, licking at your wetness desperately. His lips wrap around your clit and when he ever-so-slightly sucks, your back arches off the bed. He’s holding you down with his firm grip, grunting into your cunt as he devours you.

“Swiss, please. I’m gonna–I’m so close–”

He pulls away, mouth making an obscenely wet noise, and gives you a grin full of sharp teeth.

“Not yet you’re not.”

When he leans back and straightens his body, you look up at him dazed. You’re about to protest when you see him move his hands to the button and zipper of his jeans. Sitting up slightly on your elbows, you watch as he slides his pants and underwear down his legs and disposes of them.

Oh.

You’ve forgotten that you’ve felt the length of him before, mere hours ago in the empty cloister. All of a sudden he looks huge to your eyes, much larger than he felt through the denim of his pants. He’s achingly hard, precum beading at the top of his flushed cock and dripping down onto the duvet. You are filled with the sudden, desperate need to touch him. When he slides back up your body, cock grazing the heat of you, you reach down to brush at him. As soon as the palm of your hand makes contact with his heated flesh, his hips jerk. You want so badly to make him feel good again, to hear him sound so desperate against you once more. Sensing your desire, he gently takes your hand and wraps it around him, adjusting your grip to suit him. Slowly, he guides your hand to stroke him, and you exhale a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Once he sets the pace, his hand falls away, leaving you to your task. He looks gorgeous like this, nude and hunched over you, fucking himself into your fist.

“That’s it, baby,” he breathes with a broken off moan, “you’re doing so good. So good for me.”

Just as you had done back in the hallway, you swiped your thumb over the head of his cock, spreading the precum over the reddened flesh. He grits his teeth and bucks into you with a growl, so you do it again. The way your cunt clenches around nothing at the noises he is making makes you feel lightheaded. Addicted. You don’t realize you’re doing it, but your hand is moving faster over him now. He continues to rut into your hand until he pulls away with a choked gasp.

Oh. You’ve fucked up haven’t you?

“I’m sor–”

All of a sudden his head tips back with thunderous, exaltant laughter. You’re looking up at him, eyes glazed over with lust and puzzlement, and he brings his lips to yours. The kiss is rough, passionate, sloppy. His hand is in your hair, pulling, exposing your neck to him. He’s almost vicious as you feel him nip at your skin and soothe the bites with languorous swipes of his tongue. His cock rests against your belly, hard and weeping more than ever, as he continues to mark you. When your legs begin to wrap around him, he finally pulls back, panting as he looks down at you.

“What was all that about?” you query, chest heaving.

“Have to let the others know,” he says, grin sly and toothy, “I had you first.”

The implication that the other ghouls would be having a turn with you makes your stomach swoop with anticipation but before you can even fully process the thought, Swiss is leaning back to drag his cock through your folds. Your hips twitch desperately every time the head brushes your clit, and he seems content to watch you writhe beneath him.

“Swiss,” you whine, “Please. Please.”

“Sound so good when you beg,” he smirks, bumping his cock against your clit once more. He’s riling you up on purpose, so you indulge him.

“Could have said the same thing about you earlier,” you playfully snarl. “Or did I just imagine you cumming in your jeans for me?”

He laughs loudly again, leaning back down to cage you with his arms. With impossible softness, he leans down and kisses you. It’s a sweet thing, full of longing, and your heart swells. When he rests his forehead against yours, you reach up to stroke at the stubble on his cheek.

“You ready?” he asks quietly, nuzzling his nose against yours.

“Yeah,” you say simply, kissing him swiftly again.

When he reaches down between your bodies, you get that swooping sensation in your stomach once more. Gently parting you, he lines himself up and looks you in the eyes. Slowly, achingly slowly, he pushes into you. You feel your body tense up and your cheeks flush, and all of a sudden he’s in your ear.

“I got you,” he whispers as he sinks further into you. You can’t lie, the stretch does pain you but it does not override your desire. When he’s fully seated inside of you, you exhale the breath you are holding, and he stills. You take several deep breaths as he waits for your command.

“Please, Swiss. Please move.”

So he does. Slowly he withdraws from you and slowly he pushes back in, until the sharp ache between your legs fades away and nothing but pleasure remains. He feels so good, makes you feel so full and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in to tell him so.

“Love how you fill me up,” you breathe in his ear as he ruts a little faster, a little deeper into you. When his hands slide up your arms to hold you down to the bed, your cunt clenches and makes him moan wildly.

“So sweet for me,” he pants as he continues to fuck you. “So perfect.”

You keen at his praise and flex your hands under his grip, desperate to touch him. He, however, is still content to hold you down as he takes you with steady thrusts and watches you arch and writhe beneath him. Your moans are getting louder and more desperate with every drag of his cock and his claws bite into your wrists. His steady pace is slowly becoming more and more frantic, more and more sloppy as you continue to clench around him, making him cry out.

“Fuck, baby,” he keens, “that’s it. Don’t fucking stop.”

The spot he’s hitting as he fucks you with almost animalistic passion makes stars dance across your vision. You’re trying to focus on what he’s asked of you, but the ferocity of his thrusts is fucking all knowledge and sense out of your head. When you whine his name he slams his lips into yours in a bruising kiss, swallowing the sweet noises coming out of your mouth. He bites down on your lower lip, and your hips buck in a desperate attempt to bring him deeper within you. Relinquishing his grip on one of your wrists, he slides his hand down to where you are joined and swipes his thumb over your clit. You cry out against his mouth and he does it again, making tight circles around the swollen bud. 

“Swiss…Swiss please, I’m so close,” you moan. 

“I know you are,” he replies with a particularly deep thrust, “I can smell it,”

The knowledge that Swiss can anticipate your orgasm slides right off your brain when the moment washes over you. Your hips are bucking into his frantically as your back arches off the bed and you cry out. Swiss continues to fuck you with even more fervor, desperately chasing his end as your reach yours. You know you’re babbling incoherently at him - words of praise, words of damnation - but through the pleasure you can’t bring yourself to care. Your body feels electric, powerful as you reach your peak. The haze of hedonism slowly begins to wane, but Swiss is still pumping into you at a furious pace. When you lazily clench around him once, twice, thrice he spills inside you with a shout, hips continuing to move even after he has emptied himself. When he frees his grip on your hands, you flex your fingers before moving to cup his cheek. He pulls out of you to roll onto his back and you gasp, his seed sliding down your cunt to pool on the bed covers. A moment of silence reigns as you both catch your breath, chests heaving. Finally, you roll onto your side and scooch next to the multi-ghoul, resting your palm on his chest. He wraps an arm around you and pulls you in closer so that your exhales ghost against his neck.

“And how was your first time?” he asks, hand idly stroking your hair.

“Eh. Not bad, I guess.”

You smile at the pout and furrowed brow that graces his handsome features even as he pulls at your hair childishly.

“Take that back,” he growls, fist tightening in your locks.

“Okay, okay! You were divine, O Wondrous Ghoul. Stunning performance. Definitely leaving a good Yelp review.”

When he rolls his eyes and smiles, you grin sweetly up at him before placing a kiss on his jaw. 

“Thank you,” you say softly and more seriously.

“It was an honor,” he murmurs back. “You gave me a beautiful gift, sister.”

The two of you fall into a content silence and soon, the steady thump of his heartbeat sends you drifting off to sleep. Before your eyes shut, you smile at the thought you have.

He did make it up to you, in the end.

[bekkachaos]

Fuck it Friday 🔥

tagged by the talented @spotsandsocks go check out her new fic!!

I wrote some sad shit for the ghost buck fic, set after the lightning strike if Buck never made it, and he's having a whole "ghosts of Christmas future" moment

“Hello? Hello! Let me out! What am I doing in here? I'm alive! Let me out please!” he calls desperately, hearing his voice break as he feels the panic rise in him.

He's clawing at the box now but it does nothing. It doesn't move. The thumps of his fists are muffled by the six feet of dirt that sits above them. It’s so loud but there is no one to hear him.

“Please!” his voice breaks as he pleads, feeling the wetness from his eyes trickle into his ears.

And then he feels it, low in his gut like a hook jutting in to his belly button and hoisting him up and out. He's spinning, he’s nauseated, and then he lands on his hands and knees in freshly turned dirt, the new blades of grass sprouting through it. New Life following death.

He looks up to see a tombstone and he reads the inscription.

Evan Buckley.

And then there's his birthday and the date of his last call, clear and precise in Helvetica.

Los Angeles Firefighter 118.

Then below that, Beloved Brother and Loyal Friend.

Above it all there’s an inscription of his face and he recognises the photo. It was taken at the Firehouse Christmas. It feels like not too long ago, and it feels like it happened in another lifetime, which at this point maybe it did.

The bile rises in his throat and he wants to throw up but nothing's coming. It's just sitting there heavy in the soft space above his collarbone and he's breathing hard but is that because he feels like he needs to? Does he even need to breathe in this state that he's in now? Not alive but not dead either?

He hears a voice from above him.

“Have you seen enough?”

He looks up to see the man standing there watching him dig his nails into the dirt and hyperventilate.

“I need to go back,” he said, using up the miniscule amounts of air he had dragged into his lungs. “I can't be here. I need to go back. How do I get there? How do I do it?”

Tagging some wonderful people x

@monsterrae1 @thelikesofus @eddiebabygirldiaz @bi-buckrights @dr-shortsighted-owl @elvensorceress @smilingbuckley @lonelychicago @wildlife4life @jackluvsdaniel @morose-fan @bidisasterevankinard @thewolvesof1998 @weewootruck @daffi-990 @spagheddiediaz @honestlydarkprincess @thelovewehad @diazsdimples @steadfastsaturnsrings @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @jesuisici33 @hippolotamus @tizniz @bucksbiawakening @gayhoediaz @inell

[waxingwinchester]

the morning after

a/n - kinda wincest?? platonic for this fic but they have a protective bond. wrote this on a whim because there's no spn vore!!

warnings - VORE! well, it's not explicit but dean does vore someone the night prior and sam takes care of him in the morning. belly kink, belly rubs, burping, etc. mentions of sex and bones breaking during the digestion part

w.c. - 1.9k

-

Dean ambled into the kitchen with a limp in his step. For all the post-coital mornings he spent gulping down his one-night stand—ensuring that it would stay one night, no matter how hot the dude or chick he was banging looked to be—his body never got used to the imbalance of weight placed inappropriately on him. He wished that when he ate someone, it was like in a cartoon where they wore you like a suit, because trying to fight a hangover with a sore body inside your sore body resulted in the type of walk that made him look half-necrotic. The living dead had risen in the morning and looked even worse in the daylight.

His figure passed through the door frame and looked more like he was blocking the exit rather than peacefully entering until he soldiered on. The way his body sluggishly and sharply moved to drag his body and the weight of his round ball-gut with him was like a sight unseen, even by two brothers who had seen endless horrors. Dean looked for the nearest surface to rest the new weight hanging off of him on, anything to give him a rest from feeling his stomach bubble. He was already down to just his boxers and the robe that he had taken up the duty of wearing to honor the last guys that lived there—and totally not because he was able to let it hang around his newly bloated form in a way that his flannel and jeans couldn’t fit over. And he had tried a lot of ways to make them fit until the buttons on both popped and he learned that he better save the rest of his clothes from the thread-pulling nature of his width. 

So, a robe and boxers it was. His belly hung low enough and had finally digested enough of his prey to swing with each step like the ends of his robe, and the sloshing from the remnants of the man inside his belly drew Sam’s attention.

“Morning, Sunshine.” Sam beamed at a drained Dean, who was still regaining the color in his face. He stood behind the chrome counter with a lineup of a vegetable’s—and Dean’s—worst nightmare: a few knives of different sizes resting on the right end of the counter with their blades fogged up from mincing rabbit food, a cutting board, a juicer with the shallow heads of a few grapefruits, a recently emptied blender still dripping from whatever Sam had thrown in it, and the bloody concoction of their puke-green insides filling two tall glasses at the other end. The last thing Dean needed to think about was puke. With so many drinks and a big meal to eat last night, he nearly threw up a half-digested meal, and that would have made this site ten times worse to look at. At least Sam had used the blender while he was still passed out, or else Dean might have been marching in here to stop the headache-inducing whirring of a blade and not the vomit-inducing look of vegetables made into a healthy hangover cure.

“Please tell me those crap-shakes are both for you.” Dean took a seat on one of the stools at the wooden table, his body loathing him for diverting off the straight path he was taking to reach the counter, but he needed to give his legs a break already. He looked down to the dark grain underneath the polished surface of the table and felt like he was drunk again while trying to make sense of the flow of it. The pattern he traced over with his eyes was broken by Sam setting one of the two glasses down in front of him. 

“You need it, Dean. I can already tell you didn’t eat well last night… or drink well.” Sam took a seat across from him at the table. He had put a straw in both drinks and held on to the end of his with his index and middle finger, swirling the drink around before aiming it towards his mouth so he could lower his head and take a sip. 

“I don’t get why you punish yourself, Sammy. You stayed up all night studying, and that is how you reward yourself?” Dean took the straw out of his drink and set it to the side, letting the bit of the drink that clung to it splatter on the table. Sam just rolled his eyes at his brother’s carelessness before piping up to defend himself.

“I treat myself, Dean. I just like to make sure whoever I eat has a good experience. It’s probably like a thousand tiny chainsaws in there for whoever that is.”

“It’s food, Sammy. As long as it doesn’t hurt me, then it’s as sweet as freakin’ pie.” Dean sighed and lifted the glass up to his lips. His lips curled around the edges, and he tilted the glass so the green juice edged off the glass and into his mouth. He tried to drink it fast to get the taste down but stopped after a few loud gulps, pulling the glass away and setting it down on the table in front of him. A green juice-mustache stained his upper lip. “Oh, but this. This pains me, Sammy. This isn’t even edible!”

“Just drink it, Dean.” Sam took his time with his and sipped it, and, to Dean’s disgust, held it in his mouth to enjoy the flavor. 

Dean took another sip and set it down, retracting his upper lip in disgust and turning his head away. He wasn’t exactly hungry, so he couldn’t even trick himself into eating it out of pure necessity—last night’s hookup was still more than leaving an impact on him. “You know, I miss the days when Dad just gave us the good ol’ ‘get up and get in the damn car’ talk instead of this. Nothing got me over a hangover more than gas station coffee and some music.”

Standing, Dean latched onto the table for support. He had forgotten about his distended stomach, still working over the curled-up person inside, who had managed to last at least five hours in his stomach while still remaining whole. The downsides of having a late night are that your mistakes feel deceivingly far away when in reality it was just a couple of hours ago that Dean had fucked and feasted on a sweaty babe he picked up from some bar a few miles out. He couldn’t tell if the person had succumbed to the stomach acid or was exhausted from having sex and then being forcefully dragged down his throat when he felt hungry, not even five minutes after cuddling up with them.

“You’re going out?” Sam asked, his eyebrows falling closer to his eyes in confusion and mostly concern. 

Dean stood for a moment, then fell back down onto the stool with a few heavy pants. “Yeah—dammit—I am.”

“Dean, you can barely stand. It must have taken all your energy just to walk in here. Just chill out and drink up.” Sam reached across the table to slide Dean’s glass closer to him.

“Your crap-shake? No way, Sam. You know that I don’t even like lettuce and tomato on my burgers.” Dean nearly gagged at the idea of finishing the whole thing. He hoped that, if he at least tried to drink it, that Sam would forgive him for leaving some—if not, most—of it still in the cup.

But Sam wasn’t going to budge. “Dean.”

“Sam.” And Dean couldn’t move out of his seat, so he was left to stay stern with his baby brother.

Sam stood up and moved around the table faster than Dean could have done if he had had enough time to mentally and physically prepare himself. “You need to drink it, Dean.”

He picked up Dean’s glass and held it in one hand. His other found its way to the underside of Dean’s chin, where he cradled it. “Are you going to open up for me?”

Without any words shared between them, Dean opened his mouth, and Sam held the glass to his lips. He watched Dean lean his head back, his throat going wide and his jaw going slack as Sam tipped the glass down and let it all rush into Dean’s mouth. The juice’s bitter taste returned to Dean’s tongue quickly, but as he gulped down the stream of blended kale, celery, chard, and mint, he started to think that it wasn’t that bad of a flavor. But just as he started to get used to the taste, he had finished off the glass, and the very last few drops slid down and into his open mouth. Sam pulled away by then as Dean’s eyes locked onto the last few bits of gross, flavor-packed health slop, setting the glass down with a clink against the table.

“There, all gone,” Sam said.

A few beats passed before Dean winced, rubbing his stomach. “What all was in that junk?”

Sam bent down to be level with his brother’s round, beach-ball-sized stomach, fitting his two hands around where Dean had placed his. Though that didn’t stop him from easily answering the question, “Kale, celery, mint, some probiotics for gut health.”

“What kind of probiotics, Sam?” Dean asked, a nervous pit forming in his gut—or was that the probiotics? Or was it the person in his stomach finally stirring from all the disruption? He hoped they had been digested beyond consciousness by that point so they wouldn’t have to wake up to the smell and sound of Sam’s gut-health-juice raining down on them.

“Just the regular ones, Dean!” It clicked for how poorly Dean must have been eating these past few weeks to end up feeling like this. Maybe he was more than hungover—this was a cry for his body to get anything other than meat and fats in its system.

Dean didn’t have a smart thing to say because he was too busy working up a burp that echoed through the kitchen. He didn’t make much of any noise or any cries or pleas—he still had to keep up that stoic older brother charade so Sam couldn’t hold this over him later—but Sam knew Dean well enough to know when he needed a belly rub. 

Sam moved the robe out of the way and pushed it to fall at Dean’s sides as he was sitting, like parting the curtains to let the scenery in. His brother’s midsection had never looked so good, like a slightly hairy yet blank canvas for him to mold over with his hands. The smooth, round gut pooled in Dean’s lap and was easy to roam around. 

Sam worked his hands over Dean’s stomach, some areas of it being soft and almost plushy, being able to sink up to his wrist into his brother’s bloated stomach. But other areas were still hard and pointy like he was pressing into the knee or elbow or even skull of the prey inside, and if he pushed really hard, he could hear a bone or two crack under the pressure. It elicited more burps from Dean and helped his grumbling stomach process the meat and greens broiling inside to create something that probably looked worse than Sam’s crap-shakes.

So, Sam kept Dean on that kitchen stool until he finished helping mash up the remaining bits of his huge meal and for his stomach to process the good things Dean should have been eating all along.

Dean hated how caring Sam could be.

[t-elephasicworkshop]

could you maybe write something tender for this slightly gross feeling chubby daddy?

Of course…but never feel gross, I am absolutely sure I’d be bouncing on it as soon as I’d see you.

Also sorry, it’s kinda long. I got carried away.

Summary: slightly self conscious chubby Dad fucks his kid’s hand in front of a mirror. Yay!

He never minds when you slide up behind him while he’s getting ready for work, wrapping your arms around his wide frame in an innocent hug—and initially pretending not to see the displeased look on his face as he watches himself dress. You kiss gently between his shoulder blades through his shirt before moving up to his neck, rising on your tiptoes to peek up over him to look at his reflection. You smile when his hand comes up to rest over your smaller ones on his waist, but he doesn't say anything, content to let you hold him.

Always soooo hard on himself.

Dad is a big man, but soft in a way you could only describe as luxurious. His body is so warm. Your cheek stays pressed close to his shoulder and God—you can feel him breathing, feel the way he’s always moving, almost like some sort of living furnace. What was there not to like?

“You okay?”

You don’t expect an answer, but you lavish in the little hitch in his breath when your hands begin to wander. His chest expands as he inhales and then freezes in place, holding it for a moment before his shoulders rise and fall again, more slowly this time. Your palms glide down over his belly and you can feel him tighten as you continue south, waiting to see if he plans on resisting.

He doesn't.

Your fingers play at the top of his pants, the pads running over the smooth leather belt and then under the hem of his shirt, tracing the waistband of his pants. It tickles a bit, if the way he twitches is any indication, and he finally lets out a heavy sigh, a little huff running through him that you see more than hear.

The sweet sound of surrender.

Your hands move, undoing his belt and then the button on his pants, pushing down the zipper slow and deliberate.

It makes him nervous, you can feel it. He tenses, shifting slightly on his heels, but he doesn't stop you. It takes him a while to relax again, to lean into the touch when you stroke over the front of his boxers, his hips rolling involuntarily into the contact.

"Do you have a minute?" you ask meekly, kissing at his shoulder.

"For?"

His voice is strained, trying so hard to act calm, to be unaffected by what you're doing. You press closer, grinding into him as your hand dips under the fabric and finds him, already half-hard and twitching to life in your grasp.

"To help me with something."

He doesn't answer right away, but he doesn't resist when you start to pump him either. The soft, wet noises make his face flush and his eyes drop, nervously staring at himself in the mirror as you work him. Right away, he doesn't know what to do with his hands. They keep moving, hovering in the air above his thighs for a moment, and then resting on his hips, scrambling behind his back before remembering you were there and dropping down to his sides again.

It's not the first time you've done this and yet he's still so unsure. It's cute.

When he finally starts to push up into your hand, a quiet sound escaping him, you can't help but smile.

He hesitates again, his lips parting slightly as his brows knit together. The words don't come at first, but they do eventually.

"...Alright."

You pull back, your hand stilling. He sighs, letting his shoulders fall as he shifts uncomfortably on his feet.

"Okay, Dad— go on.”

You coo, tapping gently at his hip to encourage him to move. Your hand squeezes him, a little reward, and he groans as he finally pushes into the contact, does it again, and then once more. He starts a slow rhythm, watching intently as you smear precum lovingly down his length.

He tries to keep his eyes on the task at hand, but it's obvious that his mind is starting to wander. He can't quite look at himself, can't quite let himself enjoy this. His breathing deeper and heavier and his cheeks flushed pink, his lips parted.

“Da’, remember…eyes forward.”

He huffs and squeezes his eyes shut, a hand rising to his face, rubbing over his brow and down his cheek. You can tell how hot he feels, can see his blush darkening, creeping up to the tips of his ears.

He finally opens his eyes and his gaze flicks between the mirror and your eyes, your warm loving gaze, the way you nuzzle your cheek into his shoulder and the way you keep working him, making him twitch and buck into your palm.

You can tell he doesn’t want to, but the temptation is too much. He can't look away.

He looks at the mirror, his expression one of utter embarrassment. His lips pulled down into a tight frown, but the heat on his face is obvious. The way his eyes dart back and forth between his own face and yours, the way he can't seem to meet his own gaze.

Dad groans, a low sound in the back of his throat that turns into a frustrated huff.

"Tuckered out already?"

He shakes his head and looks down at himself, the way his cock disappears and reappears as you work his length, his hips moving of their own accord. He's leaking heavily now, your fingers coated in precum and his movements becoming increasingly erratic.

His breath catches when you run your thumb over his slit, the touch light, but enough to send a jolt through him.

"Eyes forward."

It comes out softer this time, not a command, but an encouragement.

"Da', look. Look how good you look."

His breath hitches and he moans, a strangled noise that dies in his throat. You can tell he wants to hide, wants to bury his face into the crook of your neck like he usually does and not worry about it, but that can wait.

His movements become more focused, his hips snapping forward into your hand as he watches his own expression twist. You can't help yourself, your free hand sliding under his shirt, over the soft expanse of his stomach, squeezing gently.

His body stiffens, a quiet sound of warning as his hips stutter, the movement jerky and uncoordinated.

You squeeze him again finally, a long, slow pump, and he's gone.

You milk him through it, feeling him pulse, hot and thick, across your fingers, and he's forced to watch, his eyes flicking from his own face and then back down to the mess he's making.

"Oh— oh, Da', look at you..."

His breath is coming in heavy, deep huffs. You can't see his expression clearly, but you can tell that he's embarrassed. He can't look you in the eye, but the way his lips quirk and his cheeks turn a bright pink...

It's a good thing.

Your hand keeps working him, drawing out the sensations until he's squirming and you can see him starting to go soft, his legs trembling. You let him go and pull back, giving him a bit of room as you lap at the mess on your fingers.

He watches the motion and then quickly turns away, his breath ragged.

You giggle and reach for him, wiping the rest off on his boxers before zipping and buttoning him back up. You don't bother with his belt, just petting his thigh, enough to let him know that he's all set.

"Thanks for all the help,” you hum, leaning up on your tiptoes to peck him on the cheek. “But maybe you could call off n’ help me with some other stuff too…if you don’t mind.”

[milkzoro]

backrooms

warnings: MDNI, gore, sadism, dark content, surgery, blood, organs, fucking open wounds, non-con?

minors do not read. please look at warnings.

summary: a doctor does unnecessary surgery on you.

☆彡

“where am i.” your heart shook with each second passing by.

it’s so cold and the room smells thick, like mildew and cleaner, you were almost suffocating. endless hallways formulate as you’re running faster. was there really no end?

someone’s here though. you heard it, a voice calling out a number, “238,, 238?……… shit.” it echoed over and over again, what are these numbers?

the white walls and tiles didn’t seem bright at all, the lighting in the atmosphere was dim, lights flickering the deeper you went.

footsteps… rubber soles squeaked against the ground.

“238? now why are you out here by yourself, let’s get you back to your table.” he handled you with care, effortlessly moving you with him. you wanted to retaliate but was unable too.

the man, or… doctor?, towered over you. his presence scared you but something allowed you to make eye contact with him. his eyes glowed yellow. he was not smiling, there wasn’t any sort of emotion lingering in his face.

you felt tightness suffocating you,, moments’s like this were fabricating out of thin air. these tattered and dirty restraints, the doctor did not put these on you. buckles tucked your arms tightly behind your back, you were choking on your words, unable to speak.

why am i in restraints? what is he doing?

“a-are you my doctor?”

“no.” he continued to lead you towards ‘your room’.

you walked in front of him, feeling his presence guiding you to the correct room. his eyes were glued to you and you dared not to look back. your eyes squinted tightly as panic starts to set in.

the empty walls felt like an additional restraint weight on you, not one aspect of this place was comforting. there was a door though, it appeared after, what it seemed like, hours of aimlessly walking.

“we’re back, let’s get you on the table.” he assisted you and you settled on the cold surface, unsure of what to do next. hinges and rummaging sounds filled the room, hearing a final ‘snap’ of his gloves as he turned back to you. he briefly looked at a document before turning his attention back to you.

“hmm, y/n-ya? i have a lot planned today, there’s something i’ve been wanting. and you’re my lucky guest.”

with your arms still tied behind your back he reaches his gloved hand up to your lips.

terror consumed your face. “please! what are you gonna to do me?”

he looked so evil standing before you. his lips curled into a smirk before answering. “hmm i’m gonna cut you up, play with ya a little bit.”

you froze.

“open up, it would be beneficial if you would swallow this for me. say ahh-”

you didn’t trust this man but there was no way you could make it out of here on your own, maybe there was a light at the end of the tunnel if you just comply.

without a word, you open your mouth for the doctor.

“can i ask what that was?”

“ketamine.”

“…”

“it’s like an anesthetic, keep you calm, the pain will be pleasant okay y/n-ya, don’t worry darling. i’ll fix you up after.”

~

you laid still on the table, the effects of the drug taking over your body.

you could barely move, your finger tips traced along the edge of the table to make sure you could still move. not much but there was still a little bit of feeling there, and you noticed your restraints were off as well.

the room now had a glow to it, it felt dream-like. ahh yes this is just only a dream. a soft smile came to your lips while your mind chilled out.

“you’re being so obedient, y/n-ya, thank you. gonna get started okay.”

~

he heard soft whines from you as his blade sliced effortlessly through the first layer of your skin, seeing the scarlet liquid made his eyes sparkle. he cut two deep cuts to test the waters. one placed on top of your right thigh and one smaller on your abdomen, right below your belly button. you were hardly moving. maybe he had given you too much.

“can you speak y/n-ya?” there was a tinge of concern in his voice.

you were unresponsive.

he sighed, he wanted to hear you. but the sight before him made his cock twitch. your parted lips, red liquid pooling around your body, you looked so beautiful.

he couldn’t wait, his cuts were astonishing, like he was proud of his work. they weren’t deep enough though, he had to do some removing..

the scalpel shined under the dim light as his prepared his section. his blade making a fine line of a cut around the width of your thigh. small beads of crimson gathered before he wiped them away, he cut deeper.

it felt never ending, going through layers of skin, fat, muscle and eventually bone. he was finished, eyes filled with desire as he hurried to clean up his workspace. he properly conserved your severed limb. now for the hole.

there was a perfectly snug pocket that was already naturally within the thigh. it rested between the biceps femoris and the intermuscular septum, those were two main muscles and they connected with a soft, fatty tissue that easily broke away with light pressure.

he wiped his hands clean before removing a condom from his lab coat pocket. his hands were trembling with excitement.

the doctor was too impatient, his cock hardened with every sight of you. he took one last look at you before lining himself up with your sciatic nerve. he sighed heavily as he pushed all the way in. feeling your nerves and tendons pop against his shaft made his eyes roll back. “f-fuck.”

he began to slowly fuck himself into your thigh once he felt the tension of tissue melt away. pumping in and out as red liquid squirted onto the operating table. loud groans filled the space, he was so close, but he needed something from you.

he continued his deep thrusts as he shoved two of his fingers into another open hole in your thigh. it was another nerve, this one controlled your movements. he needed to see you writhe in pain.

his long fingers scissored and curled inside your tissues, pushing up and swirling trying to get you to move.

“c‘mon y/n-ya…” his breaths were shallow, he was near his high.

your right leg started to spasm and squirm under the doctors touch. he even stole some groans from you. the pain must be unbearable.

his head fell back as he heard those sweet whines from you. your severed thigh jolted against him causing him to fuck your hole deeper.

“fuckk just like that haah-“ his moans grew more and more sporadic as the heat in his lower abdomen grew stronger.

the blood and fluids made it so so slippery, it was hard to manage his thrusts but fuckk he was enjoying every second of it.

his eyes tightened as he felt his orgasm taking over. one last look at your emotionless face had him there, rutting recklessly into your broken down tissues. he whined and panted, one last pump sent him over the edge.

“shit! fuck. fuck—. fuuuck.” his words were drawn out as he came down from his high, lazily pulling himself out and removing his gloves and ruined condom.

only one limb down and he gets to play with you for hours. how lucky is he.

‘please just wake up soon.’ he wanted to feel your cunt while your were conscious.

[chemicant]

The things they do...

Law, Kid, Zoro, Nami, Robin

I'm outing myself with this simp list, but I just love the way they are

Law

when he pulls on a pair of surgical gloves and they snap onto his hands, the way you can see the dark outlines of his tattoos through the thin layer of latex

the shimmer in his eyes when a carefully laid plan is reaching its finale, he doesn't quite realize himself but his face lights up with child-like anticipation

the way he subconsciously fiddles with an object in the air while deep in thought with a casual wave of his hand

how he sits cross-legged in his chair, hands always tapping out a beat only he can hear onto the arm rests

when he undoes the top buttons or rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, allowing his tattoos to peak through

the way he walks into a room, head up high, an air of effortless confidence

Kid

the way he smells like oil with a subtle metallic undertone, you can't tell if its a remnant of his workshop or the battlefield

everything about the way he works. his tongue sticking out in concentration while he maintains his prosthetic. how he tucks stray strands of hair under his goggles after he pushes them out of his face to take a break

when he swings his fur coat over his shoulders effortlessly with one hand, how it finds its spot draped perfectly over his back

his sadistic smile when he's in the throes of battle, rushing in confidently with a storm of scrap swirling behind him

his face when he's angry, veins pronounced against his pale skin and static in the air. the almost eerie calmness to him that commands the room

how he doesn't seem to register pain, shrugging it off unflinchingly. yet you still catch him at times reflexively massaging his left arm, distracted by the phantom ache

Zoro

how he always sits facing the entrance to a room, always on high alert, watching for danger

the muscles on his unscarred back when you watch him train, how they ripple gracefully with his every movement

when he tugs the bandana off his arm and wraps it around his head with practiced precision

that rare belly laugh he does when he's happy. the one that causes him to throw his head back and crinkle his eyes in spontaneous joy

the weight that each of his movements carry, purposeful and intentional, not a single motion gone to waste

Nami

how she proudly shows off the tattoo on her shoulder blade; along with the pale white scars that run underneath

the gentle dusting of freckles on her face and upper arms, how they glow in the sun

the way the tips of her fingers always smell like zesty orange peels

the sound of her heels clacking against the wooden floorboards of the Sunny

how she sometimes fiddles with her clima-tact, twirling it around her fingers and snapping it to length with a flick of her wrist

Robin

her soft chuckle when she finds something amusing, almost unnoticeable yet so distinct

the way she puts her hair back into a ponytail and pushes up her reading glasses when she's deep into her work

how she loves to listen to what you have to say, but also her animated rants about her passions

how she uses her sunglasses to keep her hair out of her eyes, but a couple strands always come undone to frame her face

the sharp features of her face that are only accented further by her piercing blue eyes

[hadleysmis]

Oh goodie, you're here! I was lost, actually.

You see, I've wandered this path so meticulously that I understand each slant and split and curves of these blades of grass. The path knows me as much I know it. The pressed grass knows not to perk up when they feel my little feet stomp on the mud ahead of it.

I come here to collect the water; a task handed to me like a slap on the bum. I have to carry a large bucket half my size and drag it to the stream of water.

You see behind you? That's that stream over there.

They say the trickling of the waters calm you, but I've stayed with the flow and nothing really lifts the anxiety. All I can think about is the punishment I'll receive if I don't come back in time.

I'm always so slow with the bucket, and I panic in my steps. Water spills on nature below, and my anxious stomping does no help.

The gaps in the grass used to be smaller, I remember. That's how I can tell that I got bigger.

Not so big like the other girls, but not small as I used to be. Maybe if I go back far enough I was small enough to be held.

It doesn't matter about what I dream or who I hope will return. I sense a longing mixed with long forgot-ness. I have no mother, no father, no one who's blood related to me. I only have promise and loyalty.

I rebel in song and I sweep in whimpers. They say my chirps are curses, but sometimes I don't even realise I'm making a noise.

Good sir, do you feel what I feel currently? I feel like we have a connection and I can trust your hand holding the bucket.

As I've talked you've done nothing but listen to my ramblings. So far, it was just one lady in a dream and the trees of the forest who would ever listen to me.

Monsieur, is the bucket not tiring? Has my voices not yet worn you down, even a bit?

Is it too early to say that I feel as though I've known you my entire life? Quite silly, isn't it? To be so attached to someone I've never met. I feel a tube from my belly button was connected to you in some way.

I don't think I'm normal, and I don't think I'll ever be normal. Will you accept me, no matter what? You promise me, monsieur, that you'll be my papa and my mama, but I may be your daughter and your son. I'll pick my berries and hunt some rabbits to eat. Do I scare you with my unfazed attitudes to blood and small bone breaks?

I sometimes wonder where in my life everything went wrong. I vaguely have the sense of having arms wrapped around me. I played far too long and when I turned around I saw the vast nothingness.

I don't think I was ever allowed to be happy by the world. Abandonment is all I know, and attachments easily made. I'm foolish and I follow any nudge towards one way.

So tell me Monsieur, do you consider whisking me away? I wish for a castle on a cloud, and an angel to guard it. I wish for a queen I can sit on the lap of. I wish for my voice to tweet like a free bird.

So, are you truly my papa, and should I trust you with all my heart? Although I'm afraid it's too late because I already accepted that I am your child.

You smile yet your eyes are sad, and I know that look very well. You give me happiness but I feel like sadness is what makes you whole.

Good sir, you've come to rescue me, yet I fear it looks like I must rescue you as well.

My name is Cosette... Not-Thénardier. It's good that I finally met you after all that waiting, Monsieur...? Ah, Monsieur Papa, I hear.

[jinxpantsu]

More asks.

💍 - any piercings?

💎 - want any (more) piercings?

🖊️ - any tattoos?

🔏 - want any (more) tattoos?

Referencing this post

💍

Samantha has a single ear piercing in each ear. It's not something she thought about much. It converts into a piercing when she has her wolf ears as well.

Samuel has several piercings. He has one on each nipple, one on his tongue, and one on his dick.

Neriah is the same as Sami.

Bailey has no piercings at all.

💎

Samantha does want a nose piercing but is afraid it won't look good on her. She also wants one on her belly button!

Samuel wants more piercings. He wants a second one on his tongue but what he has in mind would need him to split his tongue first. He wants a lip piercing and also another one on his eyebrow but he isn't ready for all that yet.

Neriah wants nipple piercings but... I mean what would others think of her if she had something like that? 😨

Bailey doesn't intend to have more piercings. He does want to give someone else a few though...

🖊️

Samantha has one! One on her shoulder blades of tiny chibi wings.

Samuel has none.

Neriah has a single tattoo on the back of her neck with the name Eddie! It was the name of her pet rabbit.

Bailey has a tattoo of a snake on his bicep. (snakes are hard to draw bro-)

🔏

Samantha wants another tattoo but she isn't sure what yet!

Samuel wants a tattoo. It's very likely going to be a reference of his 'free time'.

Neriah wants another tattoo. This would also be the name of someone she's growing fond of again.

Bailey wants to give other people a few tattoos...

[xxnghtclls]

Permission

Chapter 6

(Chapter 5; Chapter 7)

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Graphic Depiction Of Violence

Please see Chapter 1 for tags!

The Taste Of Devotion

“Liberated.” Sukuna repeats, as his grin grows bigger, red eyes glowing. Your eyes wander to his lips, his teeth. His canines, slightly bigger and sharper than the ones from a human. Almost feeling his breath on your face, you look back into his eyes.

“You’re dismissed, kitten.” he says, his energy’s grip on your throat loosens.

“Thank you, my King” you exhale, lowering your head in a soft bow. The new way you addressed him make his smirked lips twitch for a second, before he straightens his pose again, turning around and walking back to the garden door. You grow braver with every moment you spend with him.

Turning around and leaving his chambers in the usual manner, you find yourself back into your room. Sitting on your bed, you think about what just happened.

Asshole.

You look to your door.

I like him.

Growing up with people you would call assholes, you knew how to handle them. They would always wait for an opportunity to use you for their advantage. You learned how to retaliate, but also how to be emotionless towards them. Sukuna, however, excited you, interested you. He’s not a normal human being after all. You would lie if you said the way he caught you looking into his direction didn’t make you fear for your life, but as much as his height, eyes and manner intimidated you, it also attracted you. The way he was holding your chin and looked at your lips. The way he grinned at you, flashed his teeth at you. You couldn’t help to think that he must have found an interest in you, too. So far, your life in the shrine wasn’t bad at all, so you might as well push yourself to see how far you could go. With your life. With him. You had nothing to lose anyway.

You hear a knocking at your door in the morning. With tired eyes you fall out of bed, rush over to the door to open it. It’s Uraume.

“Master Sukuna awaits you in the throne room.” they say in a monotone voice. Your heart skips a beat.

What?

“I’ll be ready in a second!” you say as you rush back into the room to splash some water in your face. You can’t go in there looking like a homeless cat. Patting your hands on your kimono to make it look smooth again, you walk down the hall with Uraume. You’re nervous as you listen to your footsteps on the cold stone floor.

Why does he want me there?

As you approach the mysterious door you’ve seen every day but never set a foot in, it opens. Two maidens are pushing it open from the inside. You can’t believe the sight that awaits you.

Blue and red lights coat your vision, as you see a path in between water. Red water. You can’t recognize if its red because of the light, or something else. Blood maybe. At the ceiling of the is something that seems to be like a giant rip cage. Slowly you follow Uraume along the pathway. It leads to his throne. Your eyes wander up. Skulls, bull skulls everywhere, just like in the front of the shrine. A huge pile of them. Only in this moment you notice other maidens sitting on the skulls that lead up to his throne and at the top Sukuna is sitting in his seat. The mean bitch kneeling right next to one of his thighs, another maiden kneeling right next to the other. Sukuna sits with his legs spread, wearing a black hakama, his upper body naked, leaning forward. You notice a slit on his belly, where his belly button should be. His bottom pair of arms resting relaxed on his thighs. His right hand holding onto a weapon, looking like some kind of spear, with a white cloth tied to the bottom of the blade. Having his upper left arm propped up on his thigh, he rests his face on his hand. A smirk already plastered on his face.

“You’re looking at me again without permission, mortal!” he comments loudly, his voice echoing through the halls. Your eyes shoot down to your feet. You were so captivated by your surroundings that you totally forgot the rules.

“Right here” Uraume whispers and mentions you forward. You’re now standing at the bottom of his throne. In the middle of the pile of skulls, a staircase leads up to the spot he’s sitting. The place smells like copper and smoke. Oxygen feels rare.

“Tell us what you want.” his stern voice rings through the air. A familiar energy creeping down the stairs into your direction.

After a moment of inner panic you manage to mumble: “Permission to look, Master Sukuna” “Use your voice!” he demands. His tone sends a shiver up your thighs.

“I am asking for permission to look into the face of my King” you speak as loud as you can. Fists form in your hands.

A pause.

“Do it.” you can hear his smirk in the way he speaks. You look up. His head is risen, eyes looking down at you. Sukuna is looking down with a smirk that makes you wanna clench your thighs together. Red eyes glowing down into yours. This is the first time you see him in another kind of light. The red and blue colours that shine through the halls are brighter than the light you’ve seen him in before, the light of the moon. The red coloured light only flatter his already red eyes and features. It reflects on his brows, cheekbone and jaw.

He’s captivating.

“I won’t repeat myself so you better start talking.” his energy presses into you. He sounds annoyed already. You inhale and instead of saying anything right away, you kneel. Getting on all fours, you push your face almost all the way down to the floor beneath you. After a small pause you say:

“You freed me, for that I owe you a debt. I will serve you. I will devout myself to you... I shall be yours, my King.” you say loudly.

Silence.

Whispers from the other maidens softly echo in the halls, barely audible. You wait, it feels like time passes too slowly.

Why isn’t he saying anything?

Just in the moment you consider to look up to him between your hands, he starts to laugh. Loud. It sends shivers down your spine. This time Sukuna seems to be different from the encounters in his chambers. It sounds evil.

“How cute.” he says mockingly, still recovering from his laughter. “How will you serve me?” “In any way you want, my King.”

“Mhh” he huffs, “Stand up.”

You obey. Looking into his eyes again, you notice his expression has changed. No trace of laughter left in his face. With a risen eyebrow, Sukuna motions with a finger for you to come up to him. You hesitate, yet your feet slowly start walking towards the stairs. It’s like his energy, his whole being, sucks you in, dragging you up the stairs. You can’t help but to comply. Never breaking eye contact while you slowly climb the stairs, getting nearer to the King, you realise again, how tall he really is. Feet taking the last steps and you reach the top. You’re standing directly in front of him, his huge figure being a bit taller than you, even though he’s sitting. The King musters you, eyes slowly wandering from your eyes to your lips, to your neck, breasts, belly, stopping at the spot between your thighs. He stares... and your cheeks heat up.

“Strip.” he demands.

What?

All eyes on you. You can feel every person that is present in this room staring at you and you feel like your heart will pound out of your chest. Someone starts to giggle and you figure it must be the mean bitch. Sukuna’s red eyes shoot up to look into yours again. His gaze so intense and intimidating. He raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to do something. If only he knew what his gaze did to you and that very spot he’s been staring at seconds before. You’re here to serve him, show your devotion to him. So, with a pumping heart you decide to comply and slowly start to undo the kimono you’re wearing, the same kimono you wore on your first day here. A smirk starts to grow on Sukuna’s face again, as he watches your delicate fingers move around the garment. Two of his four eyes dancing and following every movement of yours, while the other two still fixate your flustered face.

You remove the last piece of clothing and there you are. Bare. For everyone to see. Including your King.

Your nipples harden from being exposed to the air around you. Although your heart pumps like it never has before, you manage to still keep your composure, staring back brave into the King’s eyes.

“In any way I want” he repeats in a whisper, his eyes mustering your naked body. Sukuna leans leans forward, his face leaving the hand he’s been leaning on. The King’s eyes wander over your exposed breasts and then back down to your now bare cunt. He closes his eyes and inhales, deep, as if he’s trying to smell something.

Can he?

Exhaling again, he opens his eyes, red orbs with blown pupils glowing into your face as he starts to chuckle and flashing his teeth. You can feel his hot breath on your face, it’s only a few inches away from yours after all. He looks so amused. The King’s right hand of his bottom pair of arms rises to graze your thigh with his sharp, black nails. A soft scratch, his touch. You missed it. It makes your cunt crave for more and your head dizzy. The feeling of his nails gives you goosebumps. Your eyes are fixated on his hand and you can’t believe what you see next. A mouth forms on his hand, little teeth flashing and a tongue creeping out of it. Shocked eyes shooting back to Sukuna’s face. He looks at you with the most evil grin spread on his face, his upper lip

twitching for a second, as his shoulder moves forward. Suddenly you feel the wet muscle at your clit. You gasp and before you could let out an embarrassing noise, you manage to put your hands in front of your mouth.

“Give me a taste of your devotion” he whispers, as he leans forward even more, staring so intently into your eyes. His red orbs flashing up as if they have fire in them. It makes your core clench. Again, your body complies without your mind, shifting your feet apart so that his large hand has room to crawl between your thighs. Three of his thick fingers start to move their way between your folds, so soft and careful, that even his long fingernails aren’t hurting you. It feels like one of his fingers are as thick as two of yours combined. Thighs start to tremble, as you feel his warm fingertips slowly glide through, leaving a path of sensations and wetting them in your essence. Breathing heavily into your hands as you watch his eyes observing every reaction of yours. Oh what his eyes do to you. The way his gaze holds yours is mind breaking. His touch feels so good, so careful.

Here you are, watched and presented in front of the whole shrine like a pig thats about to be eaten in a feast, yet it feels like it’s just you and him. Just you and him.

Your train of thought gets interrupted as you feel the warm, wet muscle lay itself flat on your clit.

You squeal.

His hand tongue starts to move, starts to lick a long stripe starting from your clit. Slowly, softly dipping its tip into your tight hole, that is already so wet from his voice and looks and manners alone. His eyes widen and his pupils dilate so wide at his action, that his eyes almost look black now. The lick continues further over your perineum, the sensation making your breath hitch. He chuckles.

“Delicious” he flashes his teeth as he retracts his hand from in between your thighs, eyes flaring into yours.

“She wants you, Master” the bitch giggles, it rips you back into reality. You were so lost in all the sensations he gave you, that you were forgetting the situation you were actually in. Your face heats up again at her comment and you despise it, but you try to remain calm. Sukuna spreads his legs even more as leans back in his throne, placing his head back onto his left hand. He notices your shift in demeanor, as you see him slightly cock his eyebrow at you.

“Do you think you can take him, love? You don’t look like you can. Virgin.” she mocks you.

Without being able to do anything about it, you feel tears pooling in the corners of your eyes. This whole situation has been too much, too many emotions at once. Your heart drops and you still only stare at the King.

“Permission to leave, my King” your voice fighting not to break. His expression has changed into something monotone, unreadable, as he moves his lips over the fingers his face has been resting on, watching you from the corners of his eyes. He taps on his armrest two times before nodding in silence.

“Thank you, my King” you bow your head and quickly gather your clothes to get down the stairs.

You rush past Uraume and back into the halls you came from.

[gravehags]

the undone and the divine - the beatrice edit

Pairing: Swiss x f!OC

Rating: Explicit

18+ ONLY MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Tags: virgin oc, first time, PinV sex, oral sex (f! receiving), hand action, ghouls being ghouls

Words: 2,972

Summary: Beatrice told him he could make it up to her. So he does.

a/n: beatrice really had no fucking clue what she was in for when she gave one (1) ghoul a through-the-jeans handjob huh lmao

~~~

Beatrice has never been in the ghoul den before.

Swiss has her by the hand, gently leading her down a hallway lined with doors until he finally stops at the second one from the end. It’s unlocked as he opens it and ushers her quietly inside. It’s small, but ultimately very cozy. A large bed sits in the center, dark covers hastily made. On the floor to the side stand his guitars. Stacks of books are piled throughout the space, their titles mostly obscured in the dim light coming from his bedside table. The space is so thoroughly Swiss, Beatrice can’t help but smile despite the nervousness bubbling in her belly. When she finally turns to him, he looks almost as anxious as she feels. His eyes dart from hers to the bed and back to her, and he twists his hands as if he’s holding himself back from something.

“I like your room,” Beatrice finally says, breaking the silence. “It suits you.”

He laughs a little and rubs the back of his neck. When she takes a step towards him, hand extended, he steps backwards slightly.

“We don’t have to do this,” he blurts out. Her little smile fades and her stomach drops.

“Oh,” Beatrice says dumbly, kicking herself. “I’m sorry I thought…because we…um. Nevermind. I’ll just go.”

Cheeks aflame she begins to head towards the door, achingly embarrassed at her presumption. How stupid, she thinks. How naive.

Her hand is on the knob when he comes at her from behind, spinning her shoulders and pinning her to the door. The breath is knocked from her lungs as he holds her there, mirroring the position the two of them had earlier in the cloister. Beatrice is shaking like a leaf when he lets out something between a laugh and a sigh.

“You really think I’m going to let you go now?” he finally breathes, fluttering the baby hairs on the side of her head. As soon as she moves her gaze from his chest to his face, she exhales shakily. His pupils are blown and Beatrice knows hers are too as he leans down to ghost his lips over hers.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Say you want me to stop and I will.”

When he pulls back finally, he cups her cheeks in his palms, tilting her face up.

“I want this,” Beatrice whispers, and his knees buckle slightly. “Swiss, I want you.”

His lips are on hers milliseconds after the words leave her mouth, cradling her head in his large palms even as he guides her away from the door. Suddenly, his hands are everywhere - on her shoulder blades, her hips, molding themselves to the curve of her ass. Beatrice trips as he continues backing her to the foot of his bed, causing the two of them to laugh into each other’s mouths. Her fist is beginning to ache from how tightly she is holding the front of his shirt, as if she’s afraid he’s going to vanish into thin air. His tongue slides against hers as he frets at the hem of her shirt, desperate to reach skin. When they finally part to catch their breath, he’s looming over her half-reclined body with a knee between her legs, tail twitching behind him. Hands trembling, Beatrice reaches for the buttons on his shirt and begins working them undone as he presses his lips to her forehead. When she stumbles, he places his hands over hers to guide her in finishing the job, finally removing the black garment from his broad shoulders. In turn, he tugs at the edge of her shirt, pulling it gently over her head and throwing it aside. When his hands slide over her sides, finally making contact with her skin they both sigh.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” Swiss groans as he reaches for her bra clasp. “No fucking idea.”

“You should have told me,” Beatrice pants as he slides her bra off and gently urges her back against the covers.

“Didn’t want to scare you off.” The look in his eyes darkens as he takes in her bare breasts, and involuntarily her arms move in a desire to cover herself up.

“Don’t,” he says softly, placing a large hand on her sternum. “Please don’t hide from me.”

When he finally shifts to cup her breast in his hand, Beatrice whines. He brushes his thumb over her hardened nipple and she feels his cock kick in his pants against her leg.

“You like this?” he says with a gentle grin, repeating the motion, to which her hips buck. His smile turns dark as he lowers his mouth to her, lips brushing the underside of her breast. Beatrice knows she’s making embarrassing noises by the time his mouth latches onto her nipple and his hips rut against her as he sucks. Head falling back she slides her hand into the dark curls on his head to scratch at his scalp, making him moan against her skin. When he pulls away she whines and he laughs, his warm breath dancing over her.

“So needy, huh? I’ve barely even touched you and you want it that bad.”

“You’re one to talk,” Beatrice frowns, pushing him away slightly, “What was all that in the hallway, huh?”

He hums deep in his throat, nearly a purr, before taking her nipple between his clawed thumb and forefinger and pinching. Her yelp is cut off by his laughter as he slides his hands down her sides to the waistline of her pants. He’s eye level with the button of her jeans, and her cheeks flush deeper than she had thought possible. Beatrice watches him like a hawk as he unbuttons them and slowly slides the zipper down. He’s grinning when he places a sweet kiss to her belly as he scooches the garment off her hips and down her thighs. When they’re off and abandoned on the ground next to him, she once again fights the desire to hide herself from his gaze. Swiss notices the way her hands twitch in discomfort and, his smile softening, he brings both of them to his lips. One by one he kisses the knuckles of both her hands and she watches him, half-sitting up.

“You okay?” he asks, all levity gone from his voice.

“Yeah,” Beatrice’s voice cracks when she says it, making her writhe with embarrassment. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

He cocks his head and rests his chin on her belly, gazing up at her with a look so adoring it makes her heart skip a beat.

“You’re okay, babygirl,” he says, fingers stroking her sides soothingly. He presses another kiss to the soft skin of her stomach. “I got you.”

Beatrice must have hesitated with her nod, because he’s gripping her hips firmly and looking at her intently.

“Do you trust me? Tell me.”

She takes a deep breath and looks him squarely in the eyes. Placing her hands over his, she smiles sincerely.

“I trust you, Swiss. I’m just nervous but…I trust you.”

He nods, maintaining eye contact as he slips her underwear down her hips, exposing all of her to him. If she thought she was flushed before she’s positively glowing now. He lowers his lips to brush her mons and she sighs contentedly.

“Swiss,” she breathes as he presses feather-light kisses at the juncture of her legs, stirring the red curls. “I need you. Please.”

He groans from between her legs, claws gripping into the meat of her thighs and tail thrashing behind him. When he gently spreads her open and licks the length of her slit, Beatrice cries out, hips bucking. He does it again, and again, and her hand flies to the base of his horns and grips.

“Soaked for me,” he growls in between licks, “Fucking drenched.”

She nods desperately, watching as he teases her clit with the tip of his tongue. He’s gripping at her tight enough to draw blood but when he slides his tongue inside her and his nose bumps at her clit, she finds she can’t bring herself to care. He’s lapping at her like a man dying of thirst, licking at her wetness desperately. His lips wrap around her clit and when he ever-so-slightly sucks, Beatrice’s back arches off the bed. He’s holding her down with his firm grip, grunting into her cunt as he devours her.

“Swiss, please. I’m gonna–I’m so close–”

He pulls away, mouth making an obscenely wet noise, and gives Beatrice a grin full of sharp teeth.

“Not yet you’re not.”

When he leans back and straightens his body, she looks up at him dazed. She’s about to protest when she sees him move his hands to the button and zipper of his jeans. Sitting up slightly on her elbows, Beatrice watches as he slides his pants and underwear down his legs and disposes of them.

Oh.

Beatrice has forgotten that she’s felt the length of him before, mere hours ago in the empty cloister. All of a sudden he looks huge to her eyes, much larger than he felt through the denim of his pants. He’s achingly hard, precum beading at the top of his flushed cock and dripping down onto the duvet. She is filled with the sudden, desperate need to touch him. When he slides back up her body, cock grazing the heat of her, she reaches down to brush at him. As soon as the palm of her hand makes contact with his heated flesh, his hips jerk. She wants so badly to make him feel good again, to hear him sound so desperate against her once more. Sensing her desire, he gently takes her hand and wraps it around him, adjusting her grip to suit him. Slowly, he guides her hand to stroke him, and she exhales a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Once he sets the pace, his hand falls away, leaving Beatrice to her task. He looks gorgeous like this, nude and hunched over her, fucking himself into her fist.

“That’s it, baby,” he breathes with a broken off moan, “You’re doing so good. So good for me.”

Just as Beatrice had done back in the hallway, she swipes her thumb over the head of his cock, spreading the precum over the reddened flesh. He grits his teeth and bucks into her with a growl, so she does it again. The way her cunt clenches around nothing at the noises he is making makes her feel lightheaded. Addicted. She doesn’t realize she’s doing it, but her hand is moving faster over him now. He continues to rut into her palm until he pulls away with a choked gasp.

Oh. She’s fucked up hasn’t she?

“I’m sor–”

All of a sudden his head tips back with thunderous, exaltant laughter. Beatrice is looking up at him, eyes glazed over with lust and puzzlement, and he brings his lips to hers. The kiss is rough, passionate, sloppy. His hand is in her long copper waves, pulling, exposing her neck to him. He’s almost vicious as she feels him nip at her skin and soothe the bites with languorous swipes of his tongue. His cock rests against her belly, hard and weeping more than ever, as he continues to mark her. When her legs begin to wrap around him, he finally pulls back, panting as he looks down at her.

“What was all that about?” Beatrice queries, chest heaving.

“Have to let the others know,” he says, grin sly and toothy, “I had you first.”

The implication that the other ghouls would be having a turn with her makes Beatrice’s stomach swoop with anticipation but before she can even fully process the thought, Swiss is leaning back to drag his cock through her folds. Her hips twitch desperately every time the head brushes her clit, and he seems content to watch her writhe beneath him.

“Swiss,” she whines, “Please. Please.”

“Sound so good when you beg,” he smirks, bumping his cock against her clit once more. He’s riling her up on purpose, so she indulges him.

“Could have said the same thing about you earlier,” Beatrice playfully snarls. “Or did I just imagine you cumming in your jeans for me?”

He laughs loudly again, leaning back down to cage her with his arms. With impossible softness, he leans down and kisses her. It’s a sweet thing, full of longing, and her heart swells. When he rests his forehead against hers, she reaches up to stroke at the stubble on his cheek.

“You ready?” he asks quietly, nuzzling his nose against hers.

“Yeah,” Beatrice says simply, kissing him swiftly again.

When he reaches down between their bodies, she gets that swooping sensation in her stomach once more. Gently parting her, he lines himself up and looks her in the eyes. Slowly, achingly slowly, he pushes into her. Beatrice feels her body tense up and her cheeks flush, and all of a sudden he’s in her ear.

“I got you,” he whispers as he sinks further into her. She can’t lie, the stretch does pain her but it does not override her desire. When he’s fully seated inside of her, Beatrice exhales the breath she was holding, and he stills. She takes several deep breaths as he waits for her command.

“Please, Swiss. Please move.”

So he does. Slowly he withdraws from her and slowly he pushes back in, until the sharp ache between her legs fades away and nothing but pleasure remains. He feels so good, makes her feel so full and she wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him in to tell him so.

“Love how you fill me up,” Beatrice breathes in his ear as he ruts a little faster, a little deeper into her. When his hands slide up her arms to hold her down to the bed, her cunt clenches and makes him moan wildly.

“So sweet for me,” he pants as he continues to fuck her. “So perfect.”

Beatrice keens at his praise and flexes her hands under his grip, desperate to touch him. He, however, is still content to hold her down as he takes her with steady thrusts and watches her arch and writhe beneath him. Her moans are getting louder and more desperate with every drag of his cock and his claws bite into her wrists. His steady pace is slowly becoming more and more frantic, more and more sloppy as Beatrice continues to clench around him, making him cry out.

“Fuck, baby,” he keens, “That’s it. Don’t fucking stop.”

The spot he’s hitting as he fucks her with almost animalistic passion makes stars dance across her vision. She’s trying to focus on what he’s asked of her, but the ferocity of his thrusts is fucking all knowledge and sense out of her head. When she whines his name he slams his lips into hers in a bruising kiss, swallowing the sweet noises coming out of her mouth. He bites down on her lower lip, and her hips buck in a desperate attempt to bring him deeper within her. Relinquishing his grip on one of her wrists, he slides his hand down to where they are joined and swipes his thumb over her clit. Beatrice cries out against his mouth and he does it again, making tight circles around the swollen bud. 

“Swiss…Swiss please, I’m so close,” she moans. 

“I know you are,” he replies with a particularly deep thrust, “I can smell it.”

The knowledge that Swiss can anticipate her orgasm slides right off Beatrice’s brain when the moment washes over her. Her hips are bucking into his frantically as her back arches off the bed and she cries out. Swiss continues to fuck her with even more fervor, desperately chasing his end as she reaches hers. Beatrice knows she’s babbling incoherently at him - words of praise, words of damnation - but through the pleasure she can’t bring herself to care. Her body feels electric, powerful as she reaches her peak. The haze of hedonism slowly begins to wane, but Swiss is still pumping into her at a furious pace. When she lazily clenches around him once, twice, thrice he spills inside her with a shout, hips continuing to move even after he has emptied himself. When he frees his grip on her hands, Beatrice flexes her fingers before moving to cup his cheek. He pulls out of her to roll onto his back and she gasps, his seed sliding down her cunt to pool on the bed covers. A moment of silence reigns as they both catch their breath, chests heaving. Finally, Beatrice rolls onto her side and scooches next to the multi-ghoul, resting her palm on his chest. He wraps an arm around her and pulls her in closer so that her exhales ghost against his neck.

“And how was your first time?” he asks, hand idly stroking her hair.

“Eh. Not bad, I guess.”

Beatrice smiles at the pout and furrowed brow that graces his handsome features even as he pulls at her hair childishly.

“Take that back,” he growls, fist tightening in her locks.

“Okay, okay! You were divine, O Wondrous Ghoul. Stunning performance. Definitely leaving a good Yelp review.”

When he rolls his eyes and smiles, she grins sweetly up at him before placing a kiss on his jaw. 

“Thank you,” Beatrice says softly and more seriously.

“It was an honor,” he murmurs back. “You gave me a beautiful gift, Bea.”

The two of them fall into a content silence and soon, the steady thump of his heartbeat sends her drifting off to sleep. Before her eyes shut, Beatrice smiles at the thought she has.

He did make it up to her, in the end.

[eueclid]

Some fun facts about Ásgeirr Bjoaldsen:

He's an albino. His skin, hair, eyebrows, and eyelashes are all white, and his eyes are also incredibly light with a purple hue that he attributes to being Dragonborn, which he is correct about. His eyes are translucent, which he also attributes to being Dragonborn.

He is illiterate. He cannot read or write. He wasn't taught how to by his mother, and by the time he realized that it was odd that he couldn't do any of those things, the person he asked to teach him made fun of him for not knowing how so he just never asked again. He does have the desire to learn, but he doesn't know how to teach himself and he's embarrassed to admit it out loud so he just never asks.

He has met plenty of Gods and Daedric Princes. He still chooses not to believe in them as they allowed his childhood to happen to him and would kill them, any of them, if he had the opportunity.

He is the best assassin in Skyrim. Getting into a fight with him is lethal nine times out of ten. He knows he's not very big and he's kind of lanky, which he uses to his advantage. His weapon of choice is a dagger, but he is also proficient in using a bow.

Despite his extreme emotional immaturity, one thing Ásgeirr is unable to do is abandon someone. Being abandoned by his mother as a young child is what caused this in him, and if he finds someone, he will stay with them even at his own detriment.

He has a very large burn scar on the right side of his body, starting at his belly button/mid back and ending at his chin/back of his head. It also goes down his right arm, extending from his shoulder to his elbow. It also covers the right half of his neck and extends up to his chin and even to part of his ear in the back. Because of this, he typically wears high-collared shirts. The scar is a result of attempting to do a fire breath shout in a windy environment, which caused his hair and clothing to catch on fire.

He was named listener of the Dark Brotherhood, but he doesn't acknowledge that title after departing. He actually burns the Night Mother's body and throws the coffin in the sea near Dawnstar before never returning to the town again.

He hates the Blades. After they suggest he kill Fulkaalbo, Ásgeirr brutally murders both Delphine and Esbern.

He also hates the Stormcloaks and the Imperials, but joined the Imperials to reunite Skyrim because he hates them less than the Stormcloaks. If given the option, he wouldn't have joined either party.