#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

[peachdues]

Tell Me to Stop: Part 2 (NSFW Kyojuro Rengoku x F!Ice Pillar)

A/N: oh man, it’s here. This took a lot out of me, so I hope that you all like it.

Part One can be found here: post-Mugen AU where Kyojuro lives; events take place post-Entertainment District.

Multiple POVs (Y/N, Shinobu, and Kyojuro). There are several flashbacks, which are in all italics and separated from the main text.

Massive TW: trauma/PTSD, anger, nightmares, descriptions of corpses, violence and violence between characters (shoving, grabbing/shaking). One character triggers another and it’s dubious whether it’s intentional or not.

CW: 16.7k words; explicit sexual content. Unprotected sex/oral (F!receiving), creampies, cursing, light scar worship, intimacy, angst.

For the song that inspired this, listen here.

Without further ado!

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

(Y/N’s POV)

Y/N began her rehabilitation training within one week of awakening from her coma.

For those seven days of rest, Y/N had fielded all sorts of visitors — the Master, escorted by his two daughters; the Love Pillar, who had wasted no time throwing her arms around Y/N’s shoulders and sobbing in relief; and three of the Mansion’s youngest girls, all of whom crawled up on her bed and cried while hugging her.

Uzui had sent her a note by crow telling her he would be by to see her as soon as his wives finished making her favorite treat — red bean mochi — and said they could compare battle wounds in celebration of their feat.

Y/N had neither seen nor heard as much of a whisper from the Flame Pillar.

The Ice Pillar resolved to distract herself from the glaring absence of the man who embodied fire, though every day that passed without word from him only seemed to make that absence more pronounced.

Y/N had thrown herself into her rehabilitation training, as supervised by Shinobu. Because she was a Hashira, her recovery was vastly different from that of lower-ranked slayers, and she worked with the Insect Pillar directly, rather than with the haughty Aoi and other younger Mansion girls.

That particular morning, the Love Pillar had joined them in an effort to recuperate Y/N’s loss of flexibility as the result of the nearly two months she’d spent sedentary. Y/N cherished the one-on-one time she had with the other two women Hashira; the three of them had formed a tight bond with one another since ascending as Pillars, united amidst the predominance of male demon slayers.  

“Good! Now just bend this way-“ Mitsuri Kanroji kept a steady hand at the small of Y/N’s back as Y/N arched over backward, teeth grinding as her stiff spine resisted her movement.

“Almost there! Just touch your other hand to the floor and hold it!” The Love Hashira said encouragingly.

Y/N stretched her left arm over her head as hard as she could. Her fingers had just graced the wooden grain of the training room floor when her body seized, and her legs gave out from under her.

“Oh!” Mitsuri caught Y/N effortlessly before she could crumple to the floor, gently helping her to sit while blushing at the stream of colorful curses that poured from the Ice Pillar’s mouth.  

“This damn wound,” Y/N moaned, her hand pressing against the angry red mark that curved from below her belly button to her right hip. “You would think it would have healed by now.”

Shinobu frowned as she crouched next to the Ice Pillar, fingers lightly prodding at the scar left behind by Upper Moon Six. “It has healed; if it hadn’t, it wouldn’t have scarred already.” Shinobu pursed her lips. “Though, I suppose it could just be a residual effect of the Upper Rank’s blood demon art – after all, it was no ordinary blade that he pierced you with, was it?”

Y/N shook her head, though she tried to suppress the memory of the demon’s cursed flesh blade ramming through her back and into her stomach. “The blade was his conduit for his blood demon art – but I think it was made from him.”

“How often does it hurt, Y/N?” Mitsuri asked, rubbing soothing circles on her friend’s upper back. Mitsuri was one of the few people Y/N knew who preferred to give physical comfort, and Y/N was grateful for it.

Y/N furrowed her brows in thought. “In a way, there’s always just this dull ache I feel, though it becomes sharper whenever I move a particular way.” Y/N pulled at the band of her uniform bottoms in discomfort. “And, it doesn’t help that these damn pants chafe and rub against it. I’ve even foregone the belt, and it still feels like they’re cutting into me.”

Mitsuri hummed in thought. “Have you considered one of the uniform skirts? They sit a little higher on the waist, so they’re less likely to aggravate it.”

Y/N scowled. “I would rather be stabbed by Upper Six again than request a skirt from that pervert tailor,” she said severely, “Sorry,” she added when she saw the Love Pillar flush with embarrassment.

“Lecherous Corps tailors aside, you may have a good point, Mitsuri.” Shinobu said, eyeing Y/N’s uniform pants in thought. “Y/N, do you mind if I brainstorm some designs for you? I can’t promise whatever I come up with will be suitable for public appearances or assignments, but I might be able to come up with something that will at least keep you comfortable while you heal and build back your strength.”

Y/N smiled as she stretched her legs out, bringing herself into a pose meant to flex her hips. “I’d be grateful for anything you could do, Shinobu.”

The Insect Pillar nodded. “Mitsuri, you know how to sew quite well, do you not? I’m afraid my proficiency with the needle is limited to sewing up wounds.”

The pinkette glowed with enthusiasm. “Yes! I have an entire room dedicated to sewing at my Estate – if you bring by your designs, I’m sure I could put something together!”

Shinobu smiled. “Then it’s settled. I’ll see what I can come up with tonight, and I’ll bring it by in the morning.”

Y/N’s heart swelled at the dedication her two friends showed towards her comfort and recovery. “Thank you both, from the bottom of my heart.”

Shinobu’s smile turned wicked. “Don’t thank us yet, Y/N. You have agility training next.”

Y/N groaned and pulled on her uniform top, buttoning it over her bindings. As a Hashira, agility training meant that she was to meet the Wind Pillar outside of Kocho’s estate where she would endure two hours of having to dodge his relentless attacks. Y/N got along just fine with Shinazugawa – he’d even welcomed her back, and gruffly complimented her work in the Entertainment District – but that did not mean he eased up in his ruthless training.  

By the time the Wind Pillar had dismissed her with a satisfied nod, Y/N had all but limped back to her room, wondering whether she could even summon the strength to bathe after such an arduous day. She almost decided against it, but when her newest scar began to pulse and throb once more, she knew nothing else would soothe it better than the hot water in Kocho’s private hot spring.

Y/N greeted the bowing Kakushi who guarded the entrance to the northernmost wing of the Butterfly Mansion’s hospital as she passed by, and she hoped that Aoi had remembered to restock her room with fresh towels so she could go straight to her bath from her room.

She drew short at the sight of a familiar figure which stood outside of Kocho’s office, leaning against the wall of the small hallway.

“Rengoku!” Y/N was startled, taking a step back in surprise at the sight of the Flame Pillar.

“Y/L/N.” The man who reminded her of the sun nodded in greeting, but his familiar, sunny disposition was noticeably absent, his face impassive and his voice detached.

“I am happy to see you in good health.” Rengoku spoke with unnatural formality; he’d never used that cold, detached manner of speaking to her, not once since she’d caught him staring at her right before the commencement of Final Selection all those years ago.

--------------------------------------------------------

“Ice Pillar Y/L/N!” His sunny voice boomed, and Y/N groaned. She’d just gotten her migraine to calm down.

“Rengoku,” she nodded politely, as her comrade came to stand beside her, all smiles and warmth. 

“It’s been a while, Y/L/N! I was beginning to forget what you look like when you roll your eyes at me.” He laughed, and Y/N scowled.

“Perhaps I’ll pay to have my photograph taken, Rengoku. That way, you can carry it with you wherever you go.”

Rengoku turned to her, an eyebrow raised in surprise at her willingness to engage with his banter so quickly. “If that’s the case, Y/N, I’d prefer to have one of you smiling. It would do well to keep me warm on those cold nights away from home.”

--------------------------------------------------------

“I heard you were called away on another mission— some train?” Y/N asked him as they strolled through the Master’s garden following their meeting.

“Yes, we’ve unfortunately lost a number of slayers. Perhaps it’s an upper rank!” The Flame Pillar responded jovially, but he stopped in front of Y/N when he saw her frown.

“What is it?” His voice was gentle, and Y/N shook her head, focusing her eyes on the blooming wisteria saplings that had been planted.

A warm finger curled under her chin and tilted her face up until her eyes clashed with pools of golden ore. “My dear Ice Pillar, are you worried for me?” He was smirking, and his thumb lightly caressed the underside of her jaw.

Y/N gingerly took his hand and removed it from her face, though she did not let it go right away. “You are the Flame Hashira, Rengoku. If anyone is capable of defeating an Upper Rank, it most certainly is you.” 

Rengoku smiled broadly at her, his hand nearly grazing her own. “For someone whose prowess lies in ice breathing, Y/L/N, you sure know how to start fires.”

Under any other circumstance, she would have changed the subject, or not said anything at all. But Y/N couldn’t help her sudden desire to flirt back, just to see if she could knock him off his feet as he so often tried to do to her.

“Yours is the only one I’m interested in stoking, Rengoku.” She said sweetly.

She’d laughed at the Flame Pillar’s beet-red face for the rest of the day.

------------------------------------------------------

“And I, you.” Y/N responded, her eyes still wide with surprise as she came to a stop before him, maintaining a cautious distance between them.

A pregnant pause followed, and Y/N made to speak once more, but she was cut off by another deep throb from the wound on her lower abdomen, her hand unconsciously flying to press against it as she swallowed the gasp that threatened to leave her.   

“You’re in pain.” It wasn’t a question.

Y/N shrugged in a feeble attempt at nonchalance. “I suppose it’s to be expected for a while yet. At least until I recover.”

Rengoku said nothing, and the silence felt suffocating.

“Would you-“ Y/N hesitated, and inwardly she’d never felt more embarrassed, or more uncertain than she did then as she stood before the uncharacteristically stoic Flame Pillar. “Would you like to sit down?”

Rengoku’s face remained impassive, and he turned away from her, dismissively.

“I cannot. I came only to retrieve a salve from Kocho.” His voice was just as cold, just as unfamiliar as the rest of him had been.

“Rengoku, is everything all right?” She stretched out a hand to touch his shoulder but was alarmed at how quickly he flinched away from her as if her touch could burn him.

“Everything is fine, Y/L/N. I need to be on my way.” Rengoku’s voice was flat, monotone, and wholly foreign to her.

“I’m sorry for not thanking you sooner — for everything you did to help me that night.” Y/N blurted, and to her relief, Rengoku froze mid-step, though he did not turn towards her. “I owe you my life.”

She did not miss the way Rengoku’s fists clenched at his side. “You owe me nothing. I would have done the same for any other comrade.” He replied, voice tight. “I must get going now. Farewell, Y/L/N.

She was so stunned that she’d not bidden him farewell back. Rather, she’d stood helplessly in her doorway, even long after the edge of his haori had disappeared around the corner of the Butterfly Mansion’s hall.

He had not looked at her once.

-------------------------------------------------------

(Kyojuro’s POV)

Kyojuro’s fists remained clenched the entire journey back to his estate.

He felt disgusted with himself. He felt like a coward.

It had nearly knocked him to his knees to see Y/L/N up and standing and talking because for so long, he had feared he would never again see the way she crinkled her nose when she laughed, or how she tucked that one loose strand of hair behind her ear whenever she was concentrating — the one that never stayed put in her braid.

But he had not been able to meet her eyes; couldn’t bear to bring himself to try, because he had been terrified of what he would see.

-------------------------------------------------------

Every night for the last two months, he has dreamed of her.

They were not pretty dreams, not like those he had before when he’d wrap her in his arms and kiss her until she laughed, the two of them living in a monster-free world and at peace.

Now, he dreamt of vacant eyes-tinged blue, unseeing and unblinking and frozen, just like the rest of her. He dreams of iced skin and blood and poison pouring from her mouth and her nose until she chokes, her chest rising once with a final rattle before it falls still.

He dreams of Upper Three, smiling deviously as he aims his fist to deal his final blow, and Kyojuro wrenches his blade down, desperate to finally win.

Only, his blade decapitates Y/N, not the Upper Rank demon and he is helpless to watch her head bounce pathetically to the ground. His hands are covered in her blood, and instead of disintegrating, her body falls uselessly to the side. Human.

As quickly as he kills her, the dream changes. He is in a lively street, filled to the brim with street vendors and women and men offering their services. It is night but the lights of the shops and gambling dens and pleasure houses are so bright that it looks like daytime.

He recognizes her by the back of her haori, and his feet move towards her, relieved to see her amidst the hustle and bustle of the city. He reaches out to touch her shoulder, her name whispering on his lips. But she turns before he can make contact, and though she looks healthy, her eyes — her eyes are white and unseeing.

I don’t understand, she pleads with him, it doesn’t make sense.

Kyojuro looks around in alarm and they are no longer standing amongst eager entertainment seekers, but among flame and wreckage, the once-ornately decorated stalls now smashed to splinters as fire slowly consumes the skeletal remains of the entertainment district.

He turns back to her right as a blade pierces through her gut, lifting her from the ground before letting her drop.

His hands shake as he reaches for her, desperate to check her wounds, but when she looks up at him, he stumbles back.

She is all wrong. Her skin is mottled and rotting from her face, and her hair is gray and matted. In place of her eyes are black holes, empty and cold.

Why can’t I come with you? Why can’t I go home, Kyojuro?

Please take me home.

Every night for the last two months, he awoke screaming.

------------------------------------------------------

Y/L/N was alive; he knew that. He knew that if he looked at her, he would not see a corpse; but terrifying visuals aside, Kyojuro had not been able to look at her because he knew what his nightmares were telling him.

He’d been responsible for her near death.

If the Kakushi had returned with a box rather than a Pillar, it would have been his fault.

The thought that Y/L/N — his Y/L/N -- had almost obtained her own headstone in the Master’s graveyard had rocked him to his very core, for that had almost become a reality. She had actually died – for the briefest moment – in his arms; and it had been his fault.

Why can't I go home, Kyojuro?

And though Y/N had awoken from her slumber, her corpse still haunted Kyojuro’s dreams.

--------------------------------------------------------

(Y/N’s POV)

Y/N was sprawled on her infirmary floor, preparing her limbs for another day of rigorous recuperation training at the hands of her fellow Hashira.

She stood to stretch her arms and lower back, wincing slightly at the pull of her scar. “Don’t you start,” she warned her body, willing total concentration breathing to dull the persistent ache that threatened to derail her entire day.

Y/N sensed movement near her doorway and knew, without looking, who watched her as she warmed up her aching muscles.

“Uzui retired. It’s time for you to do the same.”

Y/N who had been in mid-stretch, righted herself and blinked at the Flame Pillar. “Pardon?” Both the news of Uzui’s retirement and Rengoku’s words were a shock to her.

“Retire, Y/LN.” Rengoku repeated in that detached manner of his that she hardly recognized. “You helped take down an Upper Rank. You’ve done enough. Let someone else shoulder the burden, now.”

“I see no reason to retire, Rengoku.” Y/N retorted, voice hardening. “And unless and until the Master requests it or I perish, I see no reason to do so.”

Rengoku exhaled harshly through his nose. “You were injured — seriously so.”

“As were you, and yet you seem to have no intention of slowing down.” Y/N said, coolly.

Rengoku’s attention stayed fixed on the garden outside her window. “And I was only unconscious for three weeks. You were out for nearly two months, Y/L/N. That is unheard of and frankly, unacceptable for a Hashira.”

“What is your problem?” Y/N was growing more irritated the longer this inane conversation dragged on, and it wasn’t helping that Rengoku still refused to so much as look her direction, let alone meet her eyes. “Is this about what happened after you brought me here? Kocho told me everything — I’m not mad.”

Rengoku’s shoulders tensed. “It was necessary. Again, I would have done it for any one of my comrades.”

Y/N felt like she’d been slapped.

“You keep saying that, yet you won’t look at me— why?” Her confusion and hurt were beginning to melt into anger. “If I am just another comrade, then you should be able to meet my eyes.”

Rengoku said nothing.

“What Uzui did for me— that was what comrades do,” Y/N continued, her voice growing stronger as her blood grew hotter. “But you? You and I both know you were under no obligation to bring me back from the brink of death the way you did.”

“I’m not sure what you want me to say, Y/L/N,” Rengoku answered after a long moment.

Y/N took a step towards him. “I want to know why.”

“It was necessary.”

Y/N felt like throttling him.

How long had they danced around each other? How many times had they caught themselves staring at the other for a breath longer than normal, had allowed an otherwise friendly touch during a spar linger?

How could he have held her, half nude for hours, putting himself on the brink of death all for the sake of keeping her alive — and then tell her she was the same as any other comrade?

“What are we doing Rengoku -- is this to be our destiny?” Y/N demanded, exasperatedly, her voice hard. “We continue to pretend like we don’t care about one another until one of us dies?”

Rengoku remained silent, back still turned away from her.

“We’ve each had a near-death experience in a matter of months,” Y/N continued, throat working hard to keep her voice steady despite the telling burn of angry tears in her eyes. “By all accounts, one if not both of us should be dead.”

“And yet, somehow, you expect me to act as though the fact you carried me back here— that you put yourself on death’s door to keep my heart beating — doesn’t mean anything?”

It didn’t make sense. It didn’t make sense for him to fight so hard for her, to make her believe that someone valued her life that much, only to cast her aside.

She hadn’t wanted to wake up, initially; she’d felt relief for the hair’s breadth she’d thought she’d finally met her end. He was the one who dragged her back, and now he wouldn’t even look at her.

It didn’t make sense.

Y/N’s fists shook beside her, and she felt the venomous words fly from her mouth before she could stop them.

“You should’ve let me die.”

No sooner had she let the poison drip from her mouth had she felt herself flying backward, back slamming against the nearest wall of her temporary room.

“Never,” Rengoku snarled at her, his arm pressing firmly against her shoulders to hold her in place against the wood. “Never say those words to me again.”

Y/N’s chest was heaving, and she trembled beneath him, her fury threatening to explode out of her.

“There is no place on this earth where you could be in peril and I would not find you,” he said quietly, his eyes a simmering, fiery orange. “Where I wouldn’t find a way to bring you back home.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Y/N said softly, breath still coming hard from her nose but no longer from her anger.

“Doesn’t it?” Rengoku was close, dangerously close.

Y/N wanted nothing more than to lean in, to close the distance that barely existed between Rengoku’s face and hers and finally be done with all the nonsense. But he had spent so much time avoiding her gaze until that moment, and Y/N felt more lost than ever, set adrift by the look of heat and longing that was mixed with the burning rage in his eyes.

Something tugged incessantly at her gut and it would not allow her to move from her place against her recovery room’s wall.

Instead, her arms came up to rest against Rengoku’s chest before gently, but firmly, pushing him away.

“No, it doesn’t.” She repeated. “And I am tired, Rengoku.”

The Flame Pillar allowed himself to be pushed away, but he looked at her with a small, cruel smile.

“Then you’re right; it doesn’t mean anything at all.”

She flinched against the ugly slap of his words. Y/N had expected him to hit back, but she hadn’t anticipated his venom to sting as much as it did.

She felt all of the fight within her gutter out, leaving her with nothing but a heavy weight in her chest that she wished she couldn’t feel.

“Y/L/N, I-“ the Flame Pillar almost sounded remorseful.

“Thank you, for your clarification, Lord Rengoku,” she said numbly, formally, parroting his earlier tone with her. “And thank you for your assistance that night. Please, next time — don’t trouble yourself.”

Rengoku hesitated for a moment, his hand twitching as though he wanted to reach for her. He swallowed hard, and turned away, shutting the door to Y/N’s infirmary.

The moment the door at clicked shut, Y/N exhaled harshly, stumbling back against her bed as she hugged her arms around herself, and she tried to keep herself from falling apart.

It shouldn’t have hurt this bad. They were both in the Demon Slayer Corps; they saved strangers all the time without it ever meaning anything other than good will and a desire to exterminate all demons.

So why did his insistence that she was no different hurt so badly?

Because she wasn’t a stranger.

Because, while she’d always known she wasn’t his, she’d still thought she’d been something.

As Y/N curled against her blanket, an unsettling numbness began to spread from her heart, quieting even the dull ache from the scar across her belly, Y/N realized that she’d meant nothing to the Flame Pillar all along.

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(Kyojuro’s POV)

He hated himself.

He utterly and truly despised himself.

He’d been hurt by her insistence that she did not know his feelings even though he was the one who’d opened the door, yet somehow, it still felt like a rejection.

So he’d hit back, only for her to visibly recoil at the sharp blow of his words.

He would not forgive himself, for as long as he lived, for the way the light in her eyes had winked out.

He did not know what bothered him more: the fact that she’d assumed that he regretted keeping her alive, or that she’d said “next time” he needn’t bother. As though she were counting on there being a next time.

He knew he should turn around; knew that he should barge back into her hospital room, drop to his knees, and beg her to forgive his cruelty.

He knew that he should explain to her why he found it so difficult to admit his feelings for her — that he had watched his father turn into a shell of a man and abandon his children in the wake of their mother’s death, leaving them to raise themselves. That he had vowed, as he’d watched his father drink his days away, that he would never be like him, would never abandon those who relied on him most.

He’d promised that he would never be a coward, even if, in all honesty, the idea that he, Kyojuro, could ever love someone that fiercely only to have them ripped from his grasp terrified him to no end.

As he forced his legs to carry him to back to his estate, Kyojuro wondered if perhaps, in his desperation not to turn into his father, he’d become the old man after all.

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(Shinobu’s POV)

Shinobu felt the Flame Pillar’s presence in her office before she saw him, though she was in no rush to give him his salve, especially not after what she’d overheard him spit at her friend.

“If you do not mind, I would like to send my crow to collect this from here on,” Rengoku said tightly, and Shinobu could sense his failing attempt to keep his fury in check.

“Very well then,” the Insect Pillar responded just as tersely, turning away from the papers and books on her desk to pull out the small tin containing the salve the Flame Pillar used to soothe the ache of the scar he now bore across his pectoral and shoulder. Rather than handing it to him, she tossed it through the air, the Flame Hashira catching it swiftly in his hand.

Rengoku nodded his thanks and turned to leave.

“I didn’t realize it was against Corps’ rules to care about our comrades,” Shinobu said icily, if not to signal to him that there had been spectators to his ugly outburst.

He couldn’t resist taking her bait. “Maybe it should be. It would be easier that way — for everyone.”

“Is that so?” Kocho sneered, no hint of familiarity or kindness in her features; nothing but that poisonous, deadly smile. “Well, if that was the case, then you would’ve preferred Uzui to leave Y/L/N for dead among the rubble in Yoshiwara, correct?

“You would rather us be searching to fill the newest Hashira vacancy, with her corpse barely cold in the ground-“

“Do not say another word, Kocho.” Rengoku warned, quietly.

But for Shinobu, anger was her vice, and so his warning only spurred her on.

“Tell me, Rengoku, if the new Pillar had been a woman, would you have held her the way you held Y/N?”

Shinobu’s smile was chilling as she relished the way the Flame Pillar began to tremble. “Or perhaps, would you finally confess to her, having learned your lesson from the missed opportunity with Y/N? Would you live out your days with her, while Y/N rotted below the earth, having never known someone loved her?”

“ENOUGH.” Rengoku roared, and for a moment, Shinobu thought the Flame Pillar might put his clenched fist through her wall. The silence that followed was tense and long as Rengoku struggled to calm his breathing.

“What do you want from me, Kocho?” Rengoku finally snapped, wheeling around to glower at the Insect Pillar, eyes half-crazed in his frustration.

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(Two months earlier)

Dawn was still far off, but the hall of her estate was a mess.

Shinobu knew that at any moment, another group of Kakushi would be coming through the hole Rengoku had left in her wall bearing the unconscious body of the Sound Pillar, and if they did so, they’d be stumbling upon the chaotic scene that had unfolded before.

Rengoku was still on the floor, legs on either side of Y/N, who was slumped against his chest and fully exposed from the waist up.

With some satisfaction, Shinobu noted that the dark purple bruising around Y/N’s chest was clearing, a sure sign that she had chosen the correct antidote for the Flame Hashira to slam into her heart.

But her hypothermia persisted.

Rengoku, on the other hand, was beginning to breathe rather loudly, no doubt as he continued to maintain his high fever for the sake of the unmoving woman braced between his thighs.

“Rengoku,” Shinobu crouched down next to the Flame Pillar, her hand coming to a rest on his shoulder, which burned beneath her palm. “Rengoku, we need to move.”

The man lifted his head up to meet her eyes, his own glassy and unfocused. Shinobu clamped down on the swear building on her tongue — he had fever fog.

Rengoku grunted at her before his head slumped back down, chin nearly touching his chest.

Shinobu tried again. “Rengoku, we are in the open hallway of the Butterfly Mansion. Others will be arriving soon. Y/N is completed exposed.”

That seemed to get his attention. Rengoku’s head lifted, his eyes narrowed slits, but nonetheless open. He grunted in some sort of acknowledgement and began to shift Y/N in his lap.

He turned the unconscious Ice Pillar so that her back rested against one arm that curled around her bare waist. His free arm slid to grip beneath her knees, shifting her into a bridal-style position to carry her.

Two of the Butterfly Mansion’s staff moved to help him stand, but Rengoku shrugged them off, surprising Shinobu as he managed to rise steadily to his feet, Y/N secured against his chest.

He looked at Shinobu expectantly and she began ushering him towards a secluded wing of the Manor, towards her private hall. Across from her personal office was a special infirmary room, walled off from the rest of the recovery ward.

Shinobu withdrew a ring of keys from her pocket and unlocked the heavy, wooden door.

“You two can stay in here until her body temperature returns to normal,” She said, as Rengoku made his way towards the recovery bed.

Shinobu watched as Rengoku, still wearing his zori and uniform pants, ever so gently lowered himself and Y/N down on the bed, repeating his earlier positioning of her between his thighs. He propped up one leg slightly to keep the Ice Pillar from slumping over, her back pressed to his bare chest. Rengoku leaned against the headboard so that Y/N’s head could rest against his clavicle, though it slumped instead towards her left shoulder.

Shinobu made to grab a blanket to throw over the two topless Hashira but stopped short as Rengoku made to move again.

He seemed to realize that Y/N, while also still in her torn uniform pants and zori, was still bare from the waist up, her body positioned towards the door. He frowned, his hand coming up to graze the side of her arm. He flinched slightly, no doubt at the persistent chill that lingered on her skin, and he moved both of his large hands down over the back of hers as they lay limply on either side of her thighs, intertwining their fingers.

Awestruck, Shinobu watched as Rengoku brought Y/N’s arms up to cross them over her chest, locking them in place by covering her arms with his own, as though wrapping her in a sweet embrace. Shinobu knew that he’d done so to avoid touching her bare breasts himself, or at least to do so as minimally as possible, while still providing her cover. And, due to the breadth of Rengoku’s muscled forearms, Y/N’s sensitive area was almost entirely obscured from view.

Rengoku had barely been clinging to consciousness himself, and once she was sufficiently hidden in his arms, his head dropped forward until his forehead came to a rest on Y/N’s shoulder, opposite of where she’d rolled her head.

To the unassuming eye, it would have appeared as though the pair of Hashira were simply engaged in an intimate moment, rather than one desperately trying to anchor the other to life.

Shinobu moved to place the blanket over the Pillars’ laps, before quietly exiting the private room.

“Seal this wing off entirely,” she murmured to Aoi, who had been waiting dutifully outside. “No one comes down here without my explicit permission.”

Aoi bowed to her before she ushered the other Kakushi out. Faintly, Shinobu heard the arriving shouts of the group bearing the Sound Pillar. She took a single deep breath, steeling herself once more, before moving to check on her incoming patient.

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Shinobu raised her chin, looking down her nose at him in disgust. “I’m waiting for the man who would have set the world ablaze to save Y/N to reappear.”

She cocked her head, narrowing her eyes at him. “I’m waiting for the man who used his own body as her lifeline, and who tried to smash open the infirmary door when he was delirious with fever because he thought that she had died while he was asleep.”

The Insect Pillar’s masked smile finally slipped from her face and her true rage towards the Flame Pillar shone through. “It is cruel to make her feel as though she’s done something wrong,” Shinobu’s arms folded across her chest. “And it is cruel to you both for you to pretend as though she does not mean anything to you. Haven’t you both been through enough? Are you not exhausted as well?”

A tortured look passed over Rengoku’s face. “It is better this way, Kocho. I do not want to be the cause of her pain, and I cannot survive going through what happened to her again.

“For all your talk about either of you dying, I’ve yet to hear you mention the equal alternative,” Shinobu sighed, gathering her papers and books. “The one where we win and you both live. What do you suppose happens then?”

Rengoku said nothing and so, Shinobu continued. “Suppose we emerge victorious – would you truly prefer for you and Y/N to go your separate ways – to never see one another again, or never acknowledge the bond the two of you share?”

“There is no guarantee that either of us survives, Kocho,” Rengoku said quietly, his eyes falling to his feet.

Shinobu smiled but it was no longer cruel or bitter; it was wistful. “And there is no guarantee that either of you die. That’s the fickle nature of humanity, is it not? The very reason we fight?”

The Insect Pillar gathered her papers and stacked them neatly on her shelf. “For the possibilities of it all.”

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The sun was high in the sky by the time Shinobu had a moment to check on the two unconscious pillars in the back room.

Uzui had required quite a bit of attention in order to stop the poison from becoming deadly, though the fact that her combination of the wisteria antidote with the amphetamine had been so effective on Y/N meant that Shinobu was able to administer the same to the Sound Pillar in half the time.

She was exhausted; the strain of the night’s events weighed heavily on her, but she had to check on Y/N’s temperature — if the Ice Pillar still had not recovered, she feared that hope was lost.

She pushed the door to the private infirmary room open and saw the two Hashira, still in the same position she’d left them in. Rengoku was deeply asleep, no doubt from the exhaustion wrought by his high fever.

Enclosed within his arms, Y/N remained unconscious but pink.

Shinobu felt the relief course through her, but she did not allow herself to relax until she reached out a hand to lightly pinch the Ice Pillar’s cheek.

It bloomed red beneath her fingers, and it was warm to the touch.

He’d done it. The Flame Pillar had staved off her hypothermia. Their only obstacle now lay in getting her to reawaken.

Shinobu laid her hand across Rengoku’s forehead, frowning at the scorching heat of his brow; his fever had worsened more than she’d anticipated, and he would need intervention soon. She turned to nod at the Kakushi who waited by the door to the recovery room, and the three of them moved to separate the Flame and Ice Pillars.

“Put him in one of the other single-recovery rooms. Tell Aoi to administer the fever medication I keep in my cabinet – it should dispel his fever within a few hours.” Shinobu ordered, as the Kakushi, with great effort, lifted the Flame Pillar from his position behind Y/N. Shinobu gently eased her friend down against the bed and pulled a blanket over her exposed torso. “I will also need a fresh hospital gown for Lady Y/L/N.”

The Kakushi nodded their assent and got to work, heaving the unconscious Flame Pillar towards the door when he awoke. At first, his eyes were dazed, and confused as they darted around him, but as he took in his surroundings, he began to struggle against the grip of the Kakushi.

“Please, Lord Rengoku, your fever is dangerously high! Allow us to help!” One of them cried, though his efforts to tug the Pillar away were futile. Shinobu supposed the only reason he had not yet succeeded in completely throwing them off was the fact that his fever had severely weakened him.

“Rengoku,” Shinobu said sternly, coming around from her position by Y/N to meet his eyes, though he only thrashed harder against the Kakushi as he began to mutter incoherently under his breath. “Rengoku, that’s enough. You’re safe. You’re in the Butterfly Mansion, and you have a high fever. Please, let the Kakushi do their job.”

But the Insect Pillar’s words fell on deaf ears as Rengoku began to hyperventilate, his muscles straining as he tried desperately to break free from the Kakushi’s hold. Shinobu was at a loss; her comrade did not merely look frantic – he looked terrified, desperate, and utterly beyond reproach or reason. His heart rate had spiked considerably, and his breath was jerky and uneven, as though he could not fully understand where he was or that he was amongst friends.

As she strained to make out what the Flame Pillar repeated, over and over, under his breath, Shinobu realized that his eyes were not unfocused at all; they were locked on the unconscious Ice Pillar in the bed behind her.

“I can still save her!” he roared.

It all made sense then.

Shinobu realized that he thought they were moving him not because he’d successfully thwarted her hypothermia, but because he had failed — and that she was now dead.

“Rengoku,” Shinobu said sharply, trying to force the irate and delirious Flame Pillar to meet her eyes. “Rengoku, Y/N is alive. Her body temperature has returned to normal. She is safe.”

But the Flame Pillar seemed not to hear her, as he only struggled harder against the Kakushi desperately trying to usher him out of Y/N’s room.

Rengoku was becoming more violent, even as the Kakushi finally managed to shove him through the doorway of Y/N’s room. Just before they’d managed to slam the door shut, Shinobu caught Aoi’s eye and nodded, the younger girl quickly disappeared into the Pillar’s office.

Shinobu watched in stunned silence as the Flame Pillar broke free from the Kakushi and began hurtling his body against the door, Y/N’s name falling from his lips in an anguished chant.

Rengoku was so delirious in his fevered panic that he did not notice Aoi slip behind him and plunge a syringe into his neck, depositing a thick stream of the clear liquid that Shinobu knew would have a near-instantaneous effect on his consciousness.

The Insect Pillar felt a strange sense of pity and remorse as she watched her friend slump to the floor outside of the infirmary room, a final cry out for the Ice Pillar falling from his lips before the sedative lulled him back to sleep.

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(Kyojuro’s POV – three days later)

He didn’t know why he’d returned to the Butterfly Mansion.

Kyojuro tried to convince himself that it was because he didn’t want to wait for his crow to return with Kocho’s salve, but he knew it was a pathetic excuse. He’d sworn to himself that he would leave Y/L/N alone after their last argument. He’d vowed that the door between them had been closed for good, and they would only ever be colleagues. Nothing more.

But he couldn’t stay away. Perhaps it was because he’d spent the last few days stewing over their last argument, and somewhere, amidst his endless supply of self-hatred, he’d also grown angry with the Ice Pillar.

Angry, because she had put herself in harm’s way when he’d specifically told her not to.

Angry because she’d nearly died, and she’d threatened to take the last vestiges of his sanity with her to the afterlife.

Angry that she insisted on remaining in the Demon Slayer Corps despite having given more than enough of herself to their cause; angry that she didn’t understand why he couldn’t yet do the same.

Angry because she didn’t seem to understand his feelings at all.

Perhaps in another life, they could have had each other. Had they both been born into a world without demons, then maybe they would have still found each other and maybe, just maybe, he would have been able to love her the way she deserved.

But for Kyojuro, their relationship would always be defined by a series of maybes, and nothing more.

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It would have been a lie for Kyojuro to say he’d not been struck dumb by her.

She was stretched out on the steps of Kocho’s engawa, legs dangling off the edge of the porch as she leaned back on her elbows, eyes closed dreamily as she kept her face tilted up towards the cooling night air.

Long, lean, bare legs, he realized, an uncomfortable heat creeping up his collar. He couldn’t help running his eyes up their length, fixating hard on the supple curves of her thighs.

Why were her legs bare?

She looked…so unguarded this way. Her haori was draped around her shoulders, one of its sleeves hanging loosely to the side and exposing her bare shoulder – how exposed was she, the idiot – and her hair was completely unbound, falling in a silken river to her waist.

It was a stark contrast to the braided crown she wore at the base of her neck. It hit him that, not counting the night she’d nearly died, he had not otherwise seen her with her hair down.

He liked it. A lot.

“I finally rid myself of one migraine only for another to appear,” Y/N’s lofty voice snapped him out of his reverence, as the Ice Pillar opened her eyes to glare at him. 

“If you’ve come for Shinobu, she is not here. She’s on an errand and will not be back until early morning.” Y/N turned her attention away from him and back towards the garden, her voice stony.

At that moment, there were a million things Kyojuro could have said to the Ice Pillar.  

How are you?

I missed the way you glare at me.

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

Any of those options would have been far better than what came tumbling out of his mouth.

“I hadn’t realized you were indecent. My apologies.”

Y/N’s head snapped back to him, her eyes chips of ice. “Indecent?” She rose from her seat on the engawa and faced him fully, and Rengoku nearly groaned.

Indecent, indeed.

Y/N was showing more skin than Kanroji did on a regular day. As she stood, Rengoku saw that she was hardly wearing any clothing at all, save for the haori draped loosely around her frame.

The Ice Pillar wore no top but the bindings around her chest, leaving a sizeable swath of her midriff exposed to the summer air. Whatever she wore as bottoms could hardly be labeled as “pants,” given that their hem ended just short of the middle of her thigh, leaving the vast majority of her legs exposed to anyone who would happen to walk by.  

The Flame Pillar felt as though he were overheating, and he tugged uselessly at the collar of his uniform shirt. As he looked over the scowling Ice Pillar, Rengoku found himself unable to remember why he had come to the Mansion at all.  

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(Y/N’s POV)

(Earlier that day)

“Ta-da!” Mitsuri sang as she pulled the small bundle from behind her, a grin wide on her face. “A gift from Shinobu and myself!”

Y/N peered down quizzically at the small, folded bunch of cloth in the Love Pillar’s hands. “What is it?”

“A new take on the Corps’ uniform,” Shinobu replied crisply, sitting down on the tatami floor of her office. “I designed it myself, and Mitsuri sewed it.”

“But what is it?” Y/N pressed.

Mitsuri joined Shinobu on the floor. “Your new training pants. Altered, so that you have more flexibility and less irritation against your wound.”

Y/N held up the tiny scrap of fabric between her index finger and thumb. “Are you telling me these are pants?”

Mitsuri and Shinobu nodded, smiling.

Y/N looked incredulously at the two women. “But where are the pants?”

Mitsuri laughed. “Think of it as a cross between the uniform skirt and pants, but more modified.”

Shinobu nodded. “I used the same material that our uniform is made out of but designed it in a way to be more flexible – it will mold to your body rather than require you to use a belt to keep it up.” Y/N unfurled the cloth and gaped down at it. “They likely aren’t suitable for public, but around here and during your training, they should be perfectly adequate.”

“Perfectly adequate?” Y/N repeated, turning the garment over in her hands. “Shinobu, these are underclothes! Not pants!” The Ice Pillar could not stop herself from giggling. “My legs will be entirely exposed!”

“Try them on!” Mitsuri urged. “Shinobu and I estimated they would hit around mid-thigh, so you’ll still have some coverage.” Mitsuri looked down at her own skirt in consideration. “Slightly more so than I do.”

Y/N groaned but removed her uniform pants and slid into her friends’ gift. She was surprised at how comfortable they felt; they had a similar feel to the chest bindings most of the women in the Corps wore, in terms of fit. The black bottoms had no true waistband, but fit snuggly at the dip of her waist, before hugging her hips and thighs until the hem cut right above the middle of her thigh.

“How do they feel?” Shinobu asked as Y/N inspected the new garment.

Y/N turned from side to side, testing their flexibility. “Good. They don’t seem to rub against the scar at all.” Y/N smiled devilishly at her friends. “Even if they do leave little to the imagination.”

MItsuri giggled. “I hadn’t noticed Y/N, but you have – oh, what did Uzui call it?” She scrunched her eyebrows in thought. “Oh! An ‘easy and deliverable type of butt!’” The three girls laughed, carefree as Y/N wiggled her hips suggestively in front of her friends, her heart warm at the care and consideration they had put into their gift.

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Y/N mused that Mitsuri’s assessment of how she looked in the undershorts had been correct as Rengoku’s eyes raked over her as she stood tall before him, an unmistakable glint of hunger glowing in his amber pools.

Until they snagged on the thick, curved gash that extended from the band of her bottoms to just over her belly button.

In an instant, simmering fire of the Flame Pillar’s gaze had been snuffed out, something harder and colder taking over as he glared at where Upper Moon Six had buried his poisoned sickle within her.

Under any other circumstance, Y/N might have felt self-conscious at the mixture of frigid contempt that pulled on Rengoku’s face as he ran his eyes over her scar, but at that moment, it only made her blood boil.

“You should return to your room. You shouldn’t be out here exposed like this.” Rengoku said after a moment, his eyes moving away from her to stare over her shoulder, resolutely avoiding her gaze.

Y/N wondered briefly if it were possible to make someone combust with the fire of their stare. She was so tired and so angry at the way in which he demanded she stay at arm’s length yet felt utterly entitled to boss her around.

She decided then that she would not comply. Instead, Y/N took one step and then another, and again until she pushed past him, marching intently up the path she knew led away from the Butterfly Estate and to a secluded, grassy, hilled clifftop.

“Stop — Y/L/N” Rengoku growled, lunging after her, but Y/N, despite her injured state, was still faster than he, and she twisted out of his grasp before he could grab her and haul her back to the Mansion.

She probably looked insane, and maybe she was -- barely dressed, hair unbound, and striding towards that grassy hill up the winding path from Shinobu’s estate like she had any idea what she was doing.

The Flame Pillar followed.

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Apart from her close friendship with the Insect Pillar, there was another reason Y/N spent so much time in and around the Butterfly Mansion — its view.

Though she supposed this secret area she’d discovered couldn’t really be counted as part of Shinobu’s Estate — it was, after all, up a rather steep and twisting climb from the western-most point of her friend’s manor, and one could scarcely see the lights of the house once they ascended the small cliff.

Her thighs ached after nearly two months of disuse as she stormed up the steep incline, narrowly avoiding the sharp, twisting branches of the ancient trees that had concaved over the beaten path, forming a tunnel of gnarled wood that forced her to duck her head to navigate.

Y/N’s chest tightened as she neared the end of the path, the steady beat of the Flame Pillar’s footsteps trailing closely behind her.

When she finally emerged from the thicket of branches, she felt as though she could breathe again.

The path had given way to a cliff-top clearing. Soft, emerald grass covered the earthen floor, peppered with various wildflowers in vibrant hues of periwinkle, white, and pink. Towards the center was a thick, ancient oak tree, with a trunk as wide as a small hut, Its leaves ruffled lazily in the slight summer breeze. Fat hotaru floated idly above the grass while the crickets hummed.

The clearing extended to a point before dropping into a rocky cliff. Had it been a night of a new moon, Y/N would never risk coming out here for fear of stumbling too close to the cliff’s edge. But that night, the moon was full and its silver light was so bright that Y/N could see all the way to the opposite of the clearing, down to the summer irises swaying in the warm night air.

It was a pity that instead of feeling the warm serenity she normally had when she came out to her little hideaway, she felt nothing but boiling anger and a growing headache.

“You need to go back inside,” Rengoku said from behind her. Y/N ground her teeth, turning sharply on her heel to face him.

“Why do you care — I thought you only did that when I’m unconscious.” She bit back, and it felt good to see him be the one who flinched for once. “Or maybe it’s when you think I’m dying?”

She laughed, derisively. “You’ll have to forgive me, I’ve long since forgotten the rules of your game. You change them so often, you see.”

“Go back to the Butterfly Mansion, Y/L/N. You shouldn’t be out here. Not in your current state.” He said, voice as hard and unforgiving as stone.

“I’ve told you already that you are not in a position to order me around!” Y/N snapped, her words and her eyes chips of ice as she glared at him.

He was so infuriating — he had told her, in so many ways, that she meant nothing to him, and yet here he was, glowering at her as though her very existence incensed him.

“You’ve been nothing but unkind to me since I awoke, and you’ve given me no explanation!” She took a step towards him.

“Stop,” the Flame Pillar bit out, barely concealing the way he trembled with rage. “Do not take another step. Turn around and go back inside.”

If Y/N had looked pissed before, she looked downright furious now.

“Why did you come to see me while I was unconscious?” Y/N demanded, shaking. “You came every day, yet the second I wake up, you stop?”

His refusal to answer her, to even look at her, only made her seethe.

“You’re a coward, Rengoku.”

Rengoku’s teeth gnashed together, his fists balling tightly by his sides as he drew upon every ounce last shred of sanity, of restraint, left within him.

“Go. In. Side.” He ground out dangerously, his voice dropping into a growl on the last syllable.

But the Ice Pillar took another step towards him, her eyes blazing with a fire that could outburn his own.

“No.”

Rengoku’s jaw flexed. “Y/L/N-“

“I said no, Rengoku.” She was now within arm’s reach of the rigid Flame Pillar.

His eyes met hers, cold and hard, but she did not balk. She went in for the kill. “You have no say over my choices when my life is meaningless to you.”

Y/N watched the blow land, and land hard.

“Meaningless?” Rengoku looked at her and there was a new fire in his gaze, a hot, angry fire that threatened to burn the grassy overlook around them to cinders. “You believe I think your life is meaningless?”

This time, it was Rengoku who advanced towards her, bringing her within an arm’s length, and forcing her to tilt her head up to hold his raging stare.

“Do you have any idea — any at all — what it was like to see you, half dead in Uzui’s arms?” Rengoku’s voice dark, and harsh as he narrowed his eyes at her. “Or what it was like to have to carry you to Kocho, not knowing whether your heart would give out before I could get you there?”

Y/N refused to cower beneath the intensity of his gaze, her chin lifting defiantly. “Do I know what it was like?” She hissed; hackles raised.

“Thank you Rengoku, truly — thank you.” Y/N laughed, but it was devoid of any humor. “I am so glad that you’ve finally given me something to work with — so those are your rules, are they?”  She was toe to toe with the Flame Hashira, glowering down at her.

“Well since we’re keeping score, Rengoku, do you know what it was like to see you broken and bleeding out on Kocho’s table after the incident on the train?”

“That’s not the same thing,” Rengoku shot back bitterly.

“How the fuck is it not-?”

“Because it wasn’t your mission to take!” Rengoku finally broke, his voice rising to a shout. He could not stop himself as his hands shot out and gripped Y/N’s shoulders, shaking her lightly in his torment.

“You have no idea how it felt to know that you had died — no matter how briefly — because you went on a mission in my place!”

“To know that — that you could still die because I had been too weak on that fucking train. Your death would have been my fault, Y/N!”

----------------------------------------------------

(Kyojuro’s POV)

And there it was: the truth that he had tried so hard to suppress, laid flat out in the open.

Everything that had happened to Y/N, the whole entire mess — had been entirely his fault.

His fault because he had been too weak to finish off Upper Moon Three, too weak to do anything but let the demon’s punch a hole through his chest like it was nothing.

Y/L/N and Uzui had saved themselves in the end; they’d completed their mission, defeating not just one, but two upper ranks. They hadn’t succumbed to their injuries until after they’d fulfilled their duties.

But him? He’d only been saved by the grace of the sun and the tireless efforts of the Kakushi.

He’d nearly lost his life and he had nothing to show for it. Rather than do anything to further the Corp’s ultimate goals, he’d only set them back, and nearly cost them something priceless in return — their Ice Pillar.

The woman he loved.

He had no right to love her, of course — not when his reprehensible weakness had forced her to be offered up to two upper moon demons on a silver platter.

She’d been there, the morning he awoke from his three-week-long coma. She’d been right by his bedside, a sob choking from her throat as she’d called for Kocho to come quick!

At first, he’d been confused, because he hadn’t understood why she was crying. He’d tried to reach for her, to wipe the tears spilling down her cheeks when the pain had slammed into him, causing him to seize, arm suspended in mid-air.

Never before had he not been in control of his body; it had sent him into a panic.

“No, Kyojuro, please don’t move!” Y/N had cried, calling him, for the first time, by his given name. a warm hand wrapping around the one he’d stretched out towards her, lowering it gently down to the bed. “Your injuries are too grave!”

He didn’t remember much after that, only what Kocho had filled him in on later — namely, that he’d begun to panic, his breathing flaring out of control as he’d tried to fight off Y/L/N, a Kakushi, and the Insect Pillar.

His recovery had been long and slow. His wounds from the Upper Three demon had resulted in significant muscle damage that had required weeks of intensive care and training in order to build it back up again.

Those long days spent at the Butterfly Mansion had given him time to stew; to rage against himself. He’d been frustrated, so unbelievably frustrated over his inability to swing his own sword for more than five minutes that he almost considered giving in and retiring.

And then Uzui arrived, and he’d mentioned an upcoming mission to the Entertainment District, that they had discussed prior to Kyojuro leaving for the damned train, and the Sound Pillar revealed that his intel suggested the possible presence of an Upper Rank.

Kyojuro had promised to accompany him, and then he’d woken up in Kocho’s hospital, and that mission had been taken off the table and given to her.

The panic he had felt had been indescribable; he had narrowly survived an encounter with an Upper Rank, but then he was forced to watch the woman he loved walk straight into the wolf's den, and he had been incapable of convincing her to stay behind.

While she had been gone, he had railed against and prayed to and cursed at the gods, begging them to bring her home, to let her come back to him alive and whole.

Instead, they’d sent her back as a near-corpse and had laughed at his pitiful attempts to save her.

And then, she had straddled that narrow divide between life and death for nearly two months, and he had been as helpless as a cat chasing a string — his desire forever in sight yet somehow always just beyond his reach.

After his brush with death, he’d made a commitment to himself not to think of his battle with the Upper Three demon, to not waste his skill and energy on the past, but rather focus his fury on ensuring that when they did meet again, he would emerge victorious. He’d certainly not given any thought to the demon’s slime-tongued words.

He’d been disgusted when the demon had propositioned turning him into its like — and outright offended that those creatures could ever compare to the beautiful transience of humanity.

But then he’d cradled Y/N, broken and dying in his arms, and for the first time, Kyojuro had understood the appeal of the Upper Three’s offer.

Because he would rather have lived in a world in which Y/N had been turned into his enemy than in one in which she did not exist at all.

The very thought had shaken him to his core; because it meant he was not fully dedicated to their cause. He had no right to call himself a Hashira; nor did he have any right to claim to love Y/L/N. Not when he’d so easily damn her out of his own selfishness. So he had run.

A coward, after all.

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(Y/N’s POV)

Y/N was panting, her fury rippling off her in near-tangible waves.

“So, this whole thing,” she seethed, her voice shaking. “Your whole fucking attitude — has been because you’ve had your head so far up your ass, that you thought my injuries were your fault?”

It was unbelievable. It was ridiculous. And yet it was so Rengoku that it made her ears ring, made her see red as she tried to keep herself from imploding.

Rengoku said nothing, but she could see the way his eyes shuttered closed, his walls flying back up as he remained intent on keeping her out. He turned and began walking back towards the path back to the Estates.

“I was right — you ARE a coward!” She shrieked after him.

He froze. She stood there, heaving, daring him to turn around, to face her.

“Do not call me a coward again,” he said quietly, his back still to her, but his shoulders tensed, his fists balling once more at his sides.

Y/N smiled ruefully. “Then exactly what would you call what you’re doing now?.” Her lip curled into a sneer. “Run away, Rengoku. It’s what you do best.”

A flash of orange and white clouded her vision as Rengoku turned on his heel and closed the distance between them before she could draw another breath.

Y/N did not have time to react before his hands gripped either side of her jaw as he slammed his mouth down against hers, furious and heated.

It was not gentle; it was an angry clash of lips and teeth, but it also stoked a fire so hot in Y/N’s belly that she did not care, and she fully gave herself over to the bruising press of his lips against hers. She gladly opened up to him so that his tongue could slide into her mouth as one of his hands snaked behind her head to press her harder to him, demanding that she let him take and take until he was sated.

As quickly as it had begun, it was over. They broke apart with a gasp, leaping back from one another as though burned. Their chests heaved as they stared at one another.

There was a line drawn in the sand between them. If either of them crossed it, there would be no going back.

He was a coward, but she wasn’t. And she’d grown tired of this tedious dance of theirs.

Yet it surprised her all the same that he reached for her at the same time she moved for him, the two of them colliding like magnets as their mouths clashed together once more.

Rengoku kissed her like he was drowning, and she was his lifeline.

Y/N threw her arms around his neck and tugged him down closer to her, determined to take from him as much as he wanted to take from her.

The pair of them stumbled back against the ancient oak tree that sat back from the grassy cliff, Y/N caged against its bark by the Flame Pillar.

His hands gripped fistfuls of her haori as though he couldn’t decide whether to pull her closer or tug her away. His lips devoured each breathy moan he pulled from her as one hand tangled in her hair and pulled, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

She ran her hands through the fiery strands of his hair, gripping and tugging it as he explored her mouth was his demanding tongue. Y/N, emboldened by the way his fingers dug into her haori, let her hands roam from his hair and to his neck, and then to the rocky planes of his broad chest before settling on his hips as she tugged him flush against her. 

His control was slipping, and fast. “Y/L/N, I can’t- I won’t be able to hold back.” Rengoku moaned into her mouth, his hands scrunching the fabric of her haori, his fingers desperately seeking to hold her closer to him. “Tell me to stop, Y/L/N.”

Y/N’s hands only buried deeper into his hair, tugging him harder against her as she slid her tongue into his waiting mouth.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered against his mouth between breaks for oxygen. “Never stop, Rengoku.”

Y/N pulled back from him, just enough to unlatch his hands from where they were buried in the back of her haori, and moved them inside its folds, right on her bare waist.

The burning weight of his hands felt exquisite.

Rengoku shuddered as he felt the smooth, soft dips of Y/N’s waist, his fingers digging into her flesh as he sought to touch more of her, his hands running across every inch that was not covered by her bindings or those glorious undershorts.

Lips still moving furiously against hers, Rengoku bent slightly to run his hands down the silken expanse of her thighs, gripping under her knees before hoisting her up to carry her away from the tree and lay her down in the velvety grass below.

Y/N felt as though she were on fire. The ache between her legs was almost maddening, and she was desperate to have the Flame Pillar sheathe himself inside her, to make her forget even her own name.

If she could not have his love, she could at least have this.

Her hands dragged down Rengoku’s front, coming to a rest at his belt before she began fumbling with the clasp. Y/N had just managed to undo it when Rengoku’s hands — large, warm, and much stronger than her own, wrapped around her wrists, stilling her.

“Not yet, you impatient woman,” he smirked against her mouth. He moved one wrist to join the other in his left hand before bringing her arms up over her head, pinning her to the ground.

Y/N whimpered and rolled her hips against his, impatient and demanding, wanting desperately to feel some relief as her core clenched wildly around nothing.

Rengoku chuckled darkly, the rich timbre of his voice causing her blood to nearly boil with her want, as he made his way down her body with his lips.

He first came to her chest bindings, growling in impatience as he nipped at one breast over the tightly wound fabric.

His fingers brushed against her sternum as he ripped her bindings straight down the middle, Y/N shuddering as the warm summer night’s air caressed her sensitive skin, her nipples pebbling at the change in temperature.

She waited for him to lavish her soft mounds, but the Flame Pillar paused, eyes narrowed on the valley between her breasts, right on the pale, lilac mark where he’d plunged Shinobu’s antidote into her heart.

Y/N felt a lump form in her throat. He’d reacted poorly to the ribboned scar on her lower belly already, and now her once chance to finally have Rengoku in the way she’d so desperately longed to have him was about to be ruined.

But instead of pulling away from her in disgust, he leaned forward and pressed his lips softly against it the healed wound.

“I hadn’t realized I wounded you,” he murmured softly, reverently as he kissed it again. Y/N watched in bewilderment as he pressed his ear against her chest, letting his head rest there for a moment.

Listening to her heart hammer against her sternum.

“The sweetest music,” he whispered, pulling away to look at her not with lust but with unbounded tenderness.

Don’t look at me like that, she silently begged, don’t give me hope.

But as quickly as the moment had come, it passed and the esurient flame in Rengoku’s eyes flickered back to life. His lips continued down her abdomen, hot and needy until he reached the source of her near-fatal injury.

His mouth paused at the scar left by Upper Moon Six, the one he’d so callously glared at not even an hour before. This time, he ran his tongue along it, from the top to its base near her hipbone, pressing a fierce kiss against its end before continuing his descent.

“I will either have to thank my old Tsugoku the next time I see her,” Rengoku whispered darkly as he pulled at the soft waistband of Y/N’s undershorts with his teeth. “Or I shall have to burn her sewing room to cinders.” Rengoku’s fingers slid beneath the short hem of her bottoms, pulling them down inch by inch to expose her sensitive flesh.

Rengoku groaned when he saw Y/N was not wearing anything else beneath her scandalous bottoms. “Definitely burning.” His hands, so large and warm ran up the outer curve of her thighs, marveling at the silky smoothness of her skin. “Because you are far too tempting when wearing them.”

The Flame Pillar looked wild as he leaned forward, pressing his lips against the lower indent between Y/N’s hipbones as he kissed his way down to where she ached the most.

He ducked around the center of her desire in favor of sucking softly on her inner thigh. Y/N’s chest heaved as her hands flailed next to her, desperately seeking purchase, until the Flame Hashira caught them in his hands, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles on her palms as their fingers interlaced.

“Rengoku - just fuck me already,” Y/N groaned as the Flame Pillar’s face settled between her thighs, his hot breath against her bare cunt causing her legs to attempt to clench shut.

“Well now, that won’t do,” Rengoku tutted, his hands withdrawing from hers as he wound his arms underneath both of her thighs, spreading them as wide as he could to expose her core to his heady gaze.

Rengoku leaned forward and lightly traced up her damp slit with the tip of his tongue. His amber irises which had been locked on hers, rolled back into his head as he groaned at her taste.

“I’m going to take my time with you. I’ve been dreaming of this for a long time, Y/N.” He warned, hands tightening around her thighs as he pressed a light kiss against her slit, teasing her.

In the back of her mind, Y/N registered that he’d used her first name. But the graze of his lips against her most sensitive flesh had her crying out his name, high-pitched and breathy, and she watched helplessly as the sound made Rengoku’s eyes turn black.

In an instant, he was upon her, and he was ravenous.

His mouth latched to her center as though she was an oasis in the middle of a blazing desert, and he was a man dying of thirst.

The way Rengoku’s teeth grazed her sensitive nub made her abdomen clench, and she fought against his ironclad grip on her thighs as they spasmed, desperate to clench around his head.

Y/N moaned, head thrown back into the soft summer grass as she felt herself grow wetter and wetter beneath the Flame Pillar, her hands desperately tugging and pinching at her breasts in an effort to feel more pleasure.

Y/N felt as though she was hurtling towards a cliff that she could not stop herself from tumbling over as Rengoku increased the intensity of his ministrations against her needy cunt.

“You taste,” he ground out through harsh drags of his tongue up her drenched folds, “like fucking paradise.”

His mouth latched around her clit, giving it a sharp suck that had Y/N seeing stars. She barely had time to recover, to acknowledge that she was at her tipping point when Rengoku thrust his tongue into her core and began to fuck her.

Y/N came apart the moment she felt his tongue enter her, a rush of her juices spilling over his relentless maw, but he held her hips down and continued his feast. His teeth grazed her clit over and over while his tongue pumped steadily in and out of her, and Y/N was close to sobbing at the overstimulation.

The Flame Pillar kept his eyes locked on hers the entire time, the amber orbs glowing almost ominously in the indigo night.

“I- fuck.” Y/N breathed, grinding unrestrainedly against the blonde’s greedy mouth. “Rengoku!”

The Ice Pillar tried to sit up, tried to grab her comrade’s hair to tell him that she couldn’t take it anymore, that she needed him, but Rengoku was faster. Unfurling a steely arm from where it had been locked around her thigh to hold her open to him, he reached up her torso, his large hand splaying across her upper abdomen to restrain her.

“Sit down,” he growled between thrusts of his tongue into her aching cunt, nipping harshly at her inner thigh. “I am not finished.”

Y/N whimpered beneath the weight of his hand holding her down against the earth and the nearly painful ecstasy that Rengoku bestowed upon her between her legs.

Whether it was in praise for her obedience or a further act of torture, Rengoku then pressed his face flush against her core and rocked it harshly from side to side, his nose and the burgeoning stubble along his jaw scraping against her overstimulated and sensitive flesh.

Y/N slapped her hand against her mouth to stifle the howl that tore from her throat. Rengoku repeated the movement; it felt wonderful. It felt obscene. It made Y/N’s thighs contract around his head as her stomach dipped inward and a gush of her juices spilled out of her, more powerful than before, dampening the collar of the Flame Pillar’s haori.

For a breath, Y/N thought she would die of embarrassment until she felt Rengoku’s mouth vibrate against her from his groan of satisfaction. His tongue thrust once, twice more into her aching core before he withdrew completely, satisfaction tugging at the corners of his smirking lips.

But Rengoku looked nowhere near sated as he gazed down hungrily at her, wantonly spread out against the grass, the shredded pieces of her training attire strewn about, save for her haori.

“I will give you one last chance to end this now,” Rengoku whispered, kneeling above her but no longer touching her. “Tell me to stop, and I will. I will walk away, and no one will know.”

Though her body already ached from the intensity of Rengoku’s mouth upon her, she could not fathom stopping here, not when she’d barely begun to taste him herself. The thought of rolling aside to pull on the tattered remains of her clothing, to return to her estate and awake tomorrow as though he had not melted every icy reservation she’d held with his touch, was enough to make her want to cry.

Though her limbs felt boneless, she summoned all her strength to reach toward the Flame Hashira, to beckon him to return to her.

“I want you, Rengoku,” Y/N said, her voice a breathy whisper as tears clung to her eyelashes. “Please.”

Rengoku’s pupils exploded, his eyes darkening as he covered her nude body with his own. Y/N nearly sobbed in relief as his lips roughly caught hers, one hand coming up to cradle her face while the other snaked beneath her head, tilting it to the side so he could deepen his claim over her mouth.

Y/N’s hands rose, shakily, to pull at the buttons of his uniform top, desperate to feel his skin burn against hers.

“On one condition,” Rengoku said, moving his lips from hers to press against her ear, Y/N shivering. “You must call me by my name,”

“Rengoku?” Y/N questioned her mind too fogged by her own desire.

He nipped lightly under her jaw before pulling his face back from hers, smirking slightly at the way she whined when avoided her attempt to kiss him again.

“My true name.”

With clarity, Y/N realized what he desired. But he had teased her far too much already, and she yearned to return the favor.

So she looked up at him through her eyelashes, teeth sinking into her lower lip in such a way that made the Flame Hashira’s eyes darken.

“Please, please, Kyojuro,” she whispered, lancing a hand up his bicep. “Take me.”

The growl that clawed its way out of the heaving chest of the Flame Pillar made Y//N’s thighs clamp together. Rengoku — Kyojuro — pounced on her, and Y/N summoned all her residual strength to rip his uniform shirt open.

Kyojuro moaned into her neck as his shirt gave way and Y/N’s hands came to rest against his bare skin, her nails raking down his taut pectorals to the rigid planes of his chiseled abdomen.

Her lips began descending the path carved by her nails when she drew short at the dark, thick starburst-shaped scar that covered his shoulder and left pectoral. Kyojuro’s breath seized as she pressed her lips ever so softly against it, turning so she could look up at him from beneath her lashes.

Kyojuro was panting as she nuzzled against his scar, kissing it once more before gently gliding her hand over his heart and resting it there, letting herself savor the strong, sturdy beat from within his chest.

Just as he did before, she resumed her trail down his body, her lips coming to the edge of his pants when his hands wound themselves in her hair, every nerve in his body alight as she licked her way up the small happy trail that stopped just below his belly button.

As much as he wanted to feel her mouth around him, Kyojuro had been driven to the brink of insanity by Y/N’s touch, and his resolve was quickly dwindling.

“Y/N — my flame — I can’t wait,” Kyojuro said by way of apology, as he covered her hands with his own to still them on his belt. He slipped his hands down to grip her wrists, bringing them together in one hand and moving her arms up over her head, pinning them against the grasp. With his free hand, Kyojuro loosened his belt and his pants, and shimmied them down, kicking them off behind him. Y/N’s eyes widened at the sight of his proud length as it bounced against his belly button.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She was no stranger to the male body, but this – she’d never had anyone compare to Kyojuro’s size or girth.

Kyojuro noticed her hesitation. “Is this – have you ever --?” Kyojuro breathed, hovering above her. It did not matter to him whether she had or had not, but he wanted to ensure that he did not hurt her.

Y/N shook her head. “No, it’s not my first time – but you are the first one to be so…well endowed.” Y/N flushed as Kyojuro laughed softly above her, and she felt his lips graze hers.

He pulled back slightly, reaching to grip the base of his aching cock tapping it against her soaked cunt in a warning and in permission.

Y/N seized beneath him at the spark of hot pleasure that was sent crackling up her spine as he rubbed his velvety head against the most sensitive part of her core. “Kyojuro,” she hissed through clenched teeth, rolling her hips impatiently towards him.

The mushroomed tip of his cock pushed into her entrance and Y/N felt herself go cross-eyed. It was heaven; pure, unadulterated, blissful heaven.

He was insistent on easing his thick length into her, but the throbbing between Y/N’s legs had grown nearly unbearable. He still wasn’t close enough, not nearly as much as she needed him to be.

Boldly, Y/N locked her ankles against Kyojuro’s backside, and with all her might, hauled him into her in a single stroke.

“Fuck!” he yelled, unable to restrain his volume as Y/N forced him to become fully seated within her. Her core was impossibly tight and so fucking warm and wet that it had been a true exercise of self-restraint not to spill himself inside her right then.

Y/N nearly screamed in pleasured relief at the way her body burned and stretched around Kyojuro’s considerable length, his base pressed flush against her sensitive clit as she began to grind furiously against him, desperate to relieve the friction that made her ache.

Kyojuro was still panting from the way Y/N had slammed him into her, nearly trembling with restraint as he willed himself not to finish before they’d truly begun.

Once certain that he would not climax like some green boy, he laughed quietly under his breath. The dark sound caused Y/N’s eyes to fly open, and her stomach flipped at the wicked glint in his eyes as he stared at her like a hunter stalking its prey.

Kyojuro leaned forward and took one of her breasts, harshly into his mouth, grazing his teeth over her nipple hard enough to make Y/N cry out in slight pain before he lapped at it soothingly with his tongue.

“You want me to fuck you, is that it?” He murmured between his ministrations, leaving fresh marks all over aching mounds.

Y/N could hardly make a sound as Kyojuro withdrew almost completely from her heat before slamming into her once, the Ice Pillar nearly choking on the breath that flew from her chest with his force.

Desperately — pathetically — Y/N nodded, whimpering.

“If that’s how you want it,” Kyojuro growled against her breast, giving her nipple one harsh nip with his teeth before pulling himself off her.

He sat on his knees, back straight as he began to pound relentlessly into her, his hands gripping her backside and holding her flush against his strong thighs. Y/N’s head remained thrown back against the earth, her fingers tearing at the soft grass beneath her.

Rengoku’s movements were just like those he wielded in battle — powerful; all-consuming; relentless; and unforgiving.

Y/N had never considered herself to be a particularly vocal person when engaged in carnal activities, but the way that Rengoku’s cock hammered into her spasming core over and over had reduced her to a moaning and whimpering mess. The only intelligible thing that fell from her lips was his name — Kyojuro.

“You look so fucking beautiful like this,” Kyojuro grunted out between forceful snaps of his hips against hers, the night air alive with the lewd squelching of Y/N’s dripping cunt as he pistoned into her.

Y/N looked to see the Flame Pillar’s eyes locked on her breasts as they bounced with the force of his thrusts. Between the moans and whimpers he pulled from her with every punishing thrust of his hips against hers, she lightly dragged her fingers from their place in the grass to her hipbone, and then up to trace teasingly around her peaked breast.

Kyojuro’s eyes followed every move, his thrusts hardening as she pinched her nipple and let out a breathy little scream, her walls pulsing around his aching length.

“Fuck,” Kyojuro grit, feeling himself twitch within her as he watched Y/N play with herself, spurring him to go faster, deeper within her.

He moved his hand under one of her knees and lifted her leg over his shoulder, allowing him to plunge deeper into her silken heat, and he teasingly drew his fingers up and down her outer thigh.

At that moment, as Kyojuro was poised against the silhouette of the moon, his amber eyes glowing as he watched where he appeared and disappeared inside her, the realization hit Y/N like a storm, and it knocked her entirely off her axis.

She was in love with Kyojuro.

Who else could make her feel so sacred and yet so angry? Who else had been capable of slipping past every wall she’d built within herself, capable of getting her to let her guard down before consuming her so furiously she had not realized she’d ever been in danger?

He was fire, she was ice. One of them had to give to the other. She’d just always thought it would be him giving into her.

Yet there, beneath the moonlight, her climax rising above her like a tidal wave, Y/N realized that she was powerless against the waves that rose to pull her under, to never again let her up for air.

Distantly, Y/N felt the Flame Pillar’s callused thumb find her clit and her climax slammed into her, and she succumbed to the endless sea called Kyojuro.

--------------------------------------------------------

As Y/N broke apart around him, Kyojuro swore he’d never seen anything as beautiful in his entire life.

She shattered over him with the prettiest scream he’d ever heard, and he could barely make out the drawn-out syllables of his name as her hips jerked up against his while her inner walls threatened to squeeze the life from him.

Y/N finally collapsed back against the ground, her body limp from the exhaustion of her pleasure. Kyojuro then moved in chase of his own release, his hips pressed solidly against hers as he rutted his cock deep within her.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his hands tightening around Y/N’s waist. The familiar electricity of impending release tingled at the base of Kyojuro’s spine, and his stomach began to clench as he began his ascent to his climax.  “Y/N — I am going to finish soon,” his head was thrown back, and his groans were loud enough to alert anyone nearby of exactly what was transpiring between the two Hashira. “Please — tell me where--”

“Inside,” Y/N gasped, her legs tightening around Kyojuro’s hips in a feeble attempt to keep him within her, to ensure that he wouldn’t yet leave her. “Please, Kyojuro, stay.”

Kyojuro was a rational man, and he knew of one major reason not to allow his seed to spill inside Y/N’s heavenly body. But all those rationalities flew out the window at the sound of her wanton and needy whimpers and the way her heat fluttered around him and Kyojuro did not think he could pull out of her if he wanted to.

Kyojuro’s thrusts became more and more frenzied and bruising, with the Flame Hashira hardly dragging his twitching length out of her as he neared his own climax.

“Hold onto me,” he panted, falling forward so that his chest was pressed flush against Y/N’s, one arm going to wrap around her waist while the other snaked over to where her arm lay in the grass, gripping her wrist to pin it up over her head as his fingers interlocked tightly with hers.

Y/N hiked her legs higher up his waist, crossing them at her shins so that he was buried deep within her. Her free arm looped under the one he had braced above her head to wrap around his back, her fingers digging into the rippling muscle and scarred skin that littered his shoulders.

“Make me yours, Kyojuro,” she whispered against his neck, squeezing his hips with her thighs.

Y/N felt his entire body tense at her words and Kyojuro’s moans turned into shouts as he gave one final, deep thrust within her before he exploded. His hand tightened fiercely around hers with the force of his climax,

The pleasure that surged up his spine had been white hot as he pushed himself as deeply as he could possibly go within Y/N’s vice-like core. Kyojuro was not a novice to pleasure, but he had never finished as hard or as much as he did buried within her.

Kyojuro canted his hips, prolonging his release as he continued to empty himself into her, coming down from his earth-shattering high. Y/N mewled against his throat, her lips brushing against his sensitive pulse point as her legs spasmed. once more around his hips.

He finally stilled within her, arms shaking as he braced himself above her, to keep from crushing the exhausted woman beneath him.

He lowered his head down to her level. “Are you all right, my flame?” He panted, pressing a kiss between her brows before he rested his forehead heavily against hers.

She looked up at him from under her eyelashes and nodded shakily.

He no longer could keep himself from collapsing against Y/N, but as he fell forward, he gripped her and rolled, pulling her to his chest with his leaking cock still nestled deeply between her legs.  

“I don’t want to push you away,” Kyojuro murmured softly after a moment, his chest finally easing as his breathing slowed.

Y/N made a show of looking down to where they were still joined, the Flame Pillar’s pearly seed slowly leaking out of her and onto the grass below them. “I think I’m about as close to you as physically possible, Rengoku.”

Kyojuro rolled his eyes and ground his hips slightly into her, causing Y/N to squeak against him.

“Quiet, woman, I’m trying to apologize to you.” He trailed his fingers up and down her spine as she nestled back against his chest, chin perched on his pectoral as she waited for him to continue.

“I was just so angry. After the incident on the train, when I woke up in Kocho’s hospital — I was furious. With myself.” Amber eyes met hers and softened to pools of melted honey. “It was never you I was angry with.”

Y/N held his gaze evenly, her voice firm. “But you took it out on me all the same.” It wasn’t an angry accusation — it was the truth; ugly and sharp. But it was real, and so was the tentative, knowing hope in her eyes.

“Yes,” Kyojuro breathed. “Yes, I did. And I am so sorry for it, Y/N.” His hand reached up to gently cup the side of her face, thumb smoothing over the soft expanse of her cheek. “May I ask for your forgiveness?”

Y/N leaned her head into his warm palm, and smiled, softly.

“You may ask, Kyojuro.”

He brushed his thumb along her lower lip. “Can you forgive me, Y/N?”

Y/N threw a leg out over his other hip, straddling him beneath her, though moving so fluidly that they remained connected at their base.

She rolled her hips against his, and he felt himself begin to harden within her once more. Kyojuro moaned softly, head falling back against the earth as he brought his hands up to steady her, fingers digging gently into her hips as she repeated the movement, again and again, until he’d fully stiffened within her.

“Yes Kyojuro,” she sighed, hands coming to brace themselves against his abdomen as she began to ride him. “I forgive you.”

Kyojuro groaned, his head thrown back as he began to gently grind up into her, goosebumps erupting over his flesh as she lightly raked her nails over his pectorals and the hard ridges of his abdomen.

He wanted so very badly to lose himself within his pleasure, to allow Y/N to consume him whole and never let him go again, but his atonement was not complete.

Because Y/N had given him every opportunity to confess to her before, and he had been careless with them; she would not open that door herself again.

So he would.

“And may I give you my heart, Y/N?” He asked, his hands gliding sensually up from her hips to brace themselves on either side of her sensitive waist, squeezing her firmly.

Her pace had stuttered slightly once his words registered, eyes widening as she looked down at him, and Kyojuro hated that he was the reason the shadow of doubt lingered in her eyes.

“Is it truly mine?” She breathed, resuming the intoxicating rise and fall and push and grind of her hips, breasts beginning to bounce as she picked up her pace.

Kyojuro’s mouth watered, but he restrained himself, holding her gaze. “It was only ever yours, Y/N.”

Y/N cried out then, her hips beginning to drop and roll into his with urgency. By the way her damp heat began to pulse and constrict around him, Kyojuro knew that she was barreling towards her release once more.

One hand left its searing position at her waist to drift down to where they were connected, his rough thumb toying with the sensitive nub that had her heavenly cunt squeezing him for dear life.

“My beautiful flame,” he moaned, “how lucky I am to have such a darling god be the keeper of my heart.”

Kyojuro rolled into her from below again, the hand still braced on her waist guiding himself to push deeper into her, as his thumb began to press harder into the apex of her thighs.

“Sweet tempest, please,” Kyojuro panted, the relentless squeeze of Y/N’s walls around his aching length beginning to drive him to the point of madness. “Please, may I have your love?”

Y/N’s moans were piercing as she half-sobbed above him, head thrown back into the night sky, the hoary glow of the moon making her look like a celestial deity given human form as she writhed above him.

“Yes!” Y/N cried, “Yes Kyojuro, you have always had my love!”

The moment the words fell from her lips, Kyojuro jolted upright, coming into a sitting position as Y/N’s legs instantly wrapped around him. He wound one arm around her waist to bounce her in his lap, the other moving to circle his fingers around her nub.

Kyojuro nuzzled her nose with his own, his lips mere centimeters from hers as he pressed his forehead against her and held her eyes. “Then come for me, Y/N,” he murmured, his breath tickling her lips as he nuzzled her again. “Come for me, my love.”

Y/N seized around him like a vice, her head falling back as she unleashed a euphoric cry.

The force of her climax had caused her to arch backward in Kyojuro’s lap, thrusting her breasts up and forward, and Kyojuro bent to suck one into his greedy mouth, his own release imminent. The warm sticky rush of her pleasure combined with the way her velvety, molten walls constricted around him had Kyojuro seeing stars as his seed shot into her, hot and fast, his strangled groan muffled only by the soft plush of Y/N’s breast as he filled her to her brim for the second time that night.

For a long moment, neither Pillar said anything as they came down from their mutual highs, Y/N’s head pressed against Kyojuro’s shoulder while the Flame Pillar kept his arms firmly around her waist, his fingers trailing up and down her spine.

“Y/N, are you all right?” He murmured into her ear, still buried deep within her heat.

Y/N nodded sleepily against his skin, savoring how full and complete she felt perched in his lap.

“I love you, Kyojuro.” She said so softly that the Flame Pillar thought his heart might break. Kyojuro pulled away slightly to bring his fingers beneath her chin where she lay against his shoulder. Gently, he tilted her face towards his and captured her lips with his own.  

“My darling flame,” He murmured against her lips as they broke apart, his eyes sweeping over her face, committing every detail of her beauty to memory. “Thank you.”

Y/N gave him a lazy smile. “I cannot be your flame, Kyojuro,” she teased, “Not when I am made of ice.”

Kyojuro flipped her back beneath him and danced his lips teasingly across the bridge of her nose. “Don’t you know, my beautiful foil, that ice can burn just as well as flame?” He pressed a feather-light kiss against her lips. “And I have been consumed by your silvery fire since I first laid eyes on you at Final Selection.”

Y/N looked up at him in wonder, her hand coming to rest against his face as she adoringly caressed his cheek.

“I love you, Y/N. I am so sorry it took me until now to say it.”

-------------------------------------------------—

Epilogue

Y/N made back it into her room, sight unseen, just as dawn had crept over the horizon.

Feet bare, she padded softly over to her waiting bed, shrugging out of Kyojuro’s uniform shirt and falling into her blankets, not caring at the growing discomfort she felt as the Flame Pillar’s seed dried in her undershorts.

She just wanted to sleep.

Y/N and Kyojuro had come together twice more before the pair realized that morning was imminent, and they needed to return to their respective dwellings before anyone noticed they were gone.

Y/N had lamented that Kyojuro had shredded her chest bindings beyond salvation and had worried she’d be forced to sneak back into the Butterfly Mansion with nothing but her haori to cover her bare chest when Kyojuro slid his uniform shirt over her shoulders.

“No one will think twice if they see me bare,” he’d said by way of explanation, gaze dropping momentarily to appreciate the marks he had left dotted across her breasts before rising back to her face. “I would like to keep you hidden, however.”

Kyojuro then fastened each button one by one, beginning from the bottom as he kissed his way up Y/N’s torso until his lips found the sensitive spot beneath her jaw, which he’d nipped.

It had taken everything in her not to throw him down and have him for the fifth time.

Kyojuro had walked with her as far as the edge of the path back to Shinobu’s before parting her with a sweet kiss and a promise to return to her later in the morning. He had also mentioned, somewhat mischievously, that he would be inquiring into when Y/N could expect to be discharged from the Butterfly Mansion and return to her own Estate.

Her empty, person-free estate.

Y/N collapsed into her bed, ready to sleep for a precious few hours before her training would begin anew.

“So, do you mind sharing where you’ve been all night?” A dangerously sweet voice chirped from over by the door.

Y/N shot up out of her bed, stomach falling out of her ass, as she faced the smiling, enraged Insect Pillar seated primly atop her wooden stool opposite of her.

“I was quite worried, you know,” Shinobu tutted, the honey of her smile poisoned by the violence in her eyes.

Y/N had never been one to be at a loss for words, a quick comment, or a snappy retort always on hand when the situation called for it.

But to her horror, her mind had gone dreadfully blank, and her tongue was swollen stupid in her mouth.

Shinobu smiled like she knew, eyes slowly looking her over, and Y/N was left with the uncomfortable feeling that her friend could see every way she’d allowed Kyojuro to utterly defile her.

“Will you be in need of a contraceptive?” Shinobu asked lightly, and Y/N felt like she would drop dead right then and there.

“…Yes, please.” She managed to squeak, and the Insect Pillar turned to leave.

“I will bring it with your breakfast.” Her hand closed around the doorknob but stilled.

“And Y/N?”

The Ice Pillar whimpered as her friend turned to look back at her, all smiles and throbbing forehead veins.

“If you ever keep the younger girls awake from the sounds of your activities with the Flame Pillar again, I will poison you both.”

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

[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

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

I’m dying for the next chapter of The Other Half. How is shop girl’s job going now that her coworkers know she dating Bruce Wayne?

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part

Warnings: Light angst; mostly fluff

“Don’t move.”

“I have to.” 

“Nope.” 

You grin as Bruce’s insistence is punctuated by him drawing you into his chest. You wriggle for effect for a moment before you lean back against him. He lets go just long enough to reach around you and whack the snooze button on your alarm before he settles down again with a mumble of, “Five more minutes.” 

“You said that ten minutes ago.” 

Still, you take hold of his hand, intertwining your fingers and letting your eyes slides shut again. It’s a trap, one that you fall for almost every morning. Bruce cuddles you in, leaves the blackout curtains down, and makes it so, so easy to slip blissfully back into sleep. But you can’t be late to work—especially now that everyone knows what they know about you and Bruce. You yawn widely, then smile as Bruce presses his face into your neck. 

“You alright?” You murmur. Bruce doesn’t answer right away, and you for a moment, you think that he’s fallen back asleep. Then—

“‘m fine.” 

“Are you sure—?” 

“Ssssssh.” 

Your smile widens as he brushes a kiss against your skin. You hum softly as he shifts against you, sliding a leg between yours and untangling your fingers, smoothing his hand over your belly. The brush of a kiss presses more firmly to the hinge of your jaw, and the smoothing of his hand gathers and urges the fabric up, up, up over your belly—

“Nn-nn,” You warn, resting your hand on his wrist to still him. He groans, head tipping to rest against your nape for just a moment before you finally pry yourself from his arms and push yourself out of bed. You roll your shoulders back, yawning again as you tuck your feet into your slippers and groggily stand. You reach out, pressing the button to raise the blackout curtains, and grinning as Bruce moodily grunts and pulls the covers up over his head. 

“You’re such a baby,” You tease, heading for the bathroom. You take a long, leisurely shower, fully expecting Bruce to still be in bed when you get out. You’re surprised to find the bed empty when you head back into the bedroom, but you’re not at all surprised the find the clothing that you’d laid out the night before neatly pressed and on a hanger. Alfred does it every night—even if you’ve already ironed it. You have to ask him sometime how he gets the pleat in your pants so dang crisp. 

You dress quickly and head out into the kitchen. You’re surprised to see Bruce there. He’s half-asleep, half-slumped over the counter with his hand curled around a hot cup of coffee. You open your mouth to tease him, and then close it again as Alfred passes you a cup of coffee as well. 

“Good morning, Alfred.” 

“I trust you slept well. Now, what would you like to eat?” 

“Uh…” You glance toward the time on the stove. “I don’t have much time.” 

“You should eat something,” Bruce mumbles. You fight down a smile, glancing toward him. 

“Maybe just, um—Scrambled eggs and toast?” 

“Of course.” 

“Thank you.” You round the counter, sitting on a chair beside Bruce. You rub your hand between his shoulder blades gently, chuckling as he leans into you. “You didn’t have to get up, you know.”

“Wanted to.” 

“I sincerely doubt that, but I appreciate it. You getting up to anything today?” 

“I have to head into the office, speak with Fox.” 

“Is everything okay?” 

“Sure, just need some…Upgrades.” 

It’s all he says, because that's all you want to know. You nod, taking up the coffee cup and taking a pull. 

“What about you?” Bruce presses, tipping his chin up to look at you. 

“I’ve got a few meetings.” 

“Anything fun?” 

“Not sure I’d ever call meetings fun.” 

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell your boss.” 

“Thanks.” 

“Even though, technically, I am your  boss.” 

“Not funny.” 

“Hilarious.” 

“Alfred? Tie-breaker here, please?” You ask, looking up as Alfred sets your breakfast down in front of you. He smiles, shaking his head a little. 

“I learned a long time ago to stay out of lovers' quarrels. Excuse me.” 

You chuckle softly, calling your thanks out after him as he goes. You take your fork up, shoveling some of the eggs onto a piece of toast. 

“Are you busy tonight?” Bruce asks. 

“Maybe. Why?” 

“Can’t remember the last time I took you out to dinner.” 

“Well,” You mumble through a mouthful, “Thought that was part of the plan.” You glance over to find Bruce pouting. You reach out, booping his nose before you shove some more eggs onto your toast. “Don’t give me that look, it is and you know it.” 

Liz and Grant had given you a few tips for the coming months, things that would keep you out of the papers. Bruce didn’t drop you off to work, or pick you up. The two of you weren’t seen in public together unless it was absolutely necessary—and that included going out with one another. If you went to parties, you arrived and left separately. 

“I’m starting to not like this plan,” Bruce reaches out, snagging one of your pieces of toast. 

“Why?” 

“Because, it makes it seem like I’m ashamed of you.” 

You balk, brow furrowing, mouth going still mid-chew. 

“I don’t feel like that,” You insist as Bruce catches your eye. 

“No?” 

“No. And besides, the almost complete lack of coverage has kept things quiet at work. Not like they’ve forgotten, but like…I don’t know,” You shrug, looking back down at the plate guardedly, “It seems like it doesn’t matter to them.”

“It shouldn’t anyway.” 

“No, it shouldn’t, but that doesn’t change the fact that your name is over the door.” 

You turn to look at Bruce again, remorse prickling your skin as you see his pouting deepening. You reach out, gently resting your hand on his nape. 

“It’s not like either of us can change it,” You point out softly, “Not that I’d want it to.” 

“No?” 

Bruce meets your eye and waits for you to argue. Maybe you do wish it a little, sometimes. It would be easier if Bruce wasn’t…Bruce. But then again—

“No,” You shake your head. “If you weren’t who you are, we may never have met. I prefer it this way.” 

Bruce’s smile widens as he leans in, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

“I had no idea I was dating such a sap,” He murmurs. You snort, whacking his arm. 

“Shut up—Shit,” You glance toward the oven. “I’ve gotta go if I’m gonna get to the office on time.” You dust your hands clean before you reach up, grasping his jaw and drawing him in for a peck. 

“Can we do something tonight?” 

“Well,” You slide off of the chair and grab your work bag. “I’m not busy, so if we’re both around, I’m sure we can figure something out.” 

“I’ll text you the particulars.” 

“Oh, there are going to be particulars?” You waggle your brows as you walk backward toward the elevator. “Mr. Wayne, I’m flattered.” 

“Turn around,” He chuckles. “You’re going to walk right into the doors.” 

You reach back, blindly whacking the down button before you hold your hands up. “Impressive, I know.” 

“That’s a skill you can take to the bank.” 

You snort, stepping back onto the elevator as the doors open. “I’ll see you later, babe.” 

“Alright. Love you.”

“Love you, too!” 

--  

You do still get glances. You’re not sure that that’ll ever really go away, not for as long as you’re with Bruce. If…Well, you don’t like to think this way, but if you and Bruce ever split up, you're fairly certain that you would fade into obscurity. In that case, you’d be more than alright with only showing up in the paper now and again. Hell, if you're lucky, you'll never show up in the paper at all. Michelle hasn’t sent you a new article about you and Bruce in nearly two weeks; Liz and Grant have been keeping an eye out for any stories that may slip through the cracks about you in particular. Things have been quieting down at work, falling into a fairly regular cadence. 

You’re getting comfortable. 

That makes you nervous. 

-- 

“Do you wanna grab lunch?” 

The question catches you off-guard. You’re in the middle of picking up your things, getting ready to head back to your desk, but you go still. You hesitantly meet Rose’s bright eyes, brows raising as you glance toward where your coworkers are leaving the room. She’s already gathered her things, hugging them to her chest as she waits for you.

“I, um…Me?” You point toward yourself. 

“Yes,” She chuckles. “Did you bring something to eat?” 

“Oh…No,” You shake your head. “What were you thinking?” 

“There are a few good places around,” She shrugs, “Salads, Mexican, Chinese…” She trails off again, and you realize that she’s waiting for you to say yes or no. 

“Salad would be good,” You nod. “I’ve got a block of meetings this afternoon and I don’t wanna fall asleep in the middle.” 

“Oh, girl. You wouldn't be the only one.”

-- 

“How’s it been for you so far?” 

You poke at the arugula in your bowl, then spear a piece of chicken as you consider. 

“It’s been alright, I guess? The work’s been, like...Not quite what I thought it would be. I’m definitely interested in what we’re doing,” You insist. “But I thought I’d be doing less admin stuff.” 

“They’ll phase you out of that once you get used to the processes,” Rose rests her chin on her hand, flicking a strand of blonde hair out of her eyes. “They did the same thing to me.”

“Okay, that’s actually pretty reassuring. I don’t mind taking it slower, either. I’m not used to this kind of work.” 

“No?” 

“Nn-nn. I was in retail before this.” 

“What made you leave?” 

“Uh…” You pissed off your manager, went on a Valentine’s Day trip with the Prince of Gotham, and she fired you—“It was just time for a change.” 

“So it wasn’t…” 

“Wasn’t…?” You raise a brow, meeting her eye. You find guilty intrigue there, and it makes your stomach flip. You clear your throat. You were waiting for this.

“No,” You answer flatly. “It wasn’t his idea, and definitely not his decision.” 

Rose nods hurriedly, gaze dropping back to her food as she pokes through it almost studiously. You lean back in your seat a little, nerves beginning to rise. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea—

“We don’t have to talk about him,” Rose offers, “And I’m sorry I brought it up.” 

You bite your lip. You’re surprised she gave you that, at least. 

“S’okay,” You shake your head. You’re just desperate to change the subject. “So, what do you do for fun?” 

“The usual stuff, you know. I like to read, I like movies, I like…Okay, this is gonna sound kinda dorky,” She shifts in her seat, “But I like quilting.” 

You grin. “My mom loves quilting. What are you working on right now?” 

“Okay, so it’s called a strip and flip? And I made the mistake of putting that on my Tinder profile.” 

“Oh, no.” 

“Oh, yeah. Kind of the best mistake I’ve ever made.” 

--  

“Do you take the train home?” Rose sidles up to your desk as you close your laptop for the night. 

“Yeah,” You nod. “Do you?” 

“Mhm. Uptown? Downtown?” 

“Depends on the day,” You admit, glancing down and doing a double-take at the sight of Bruce’s name flashing up on your ringing phone. You smile sheepishly, muttering, “Sorry, can I just, um—” 

“Yeah, course!” 

You reach down, taking up the phone and answering the call: 

“Hey there. I thought I'd be texted particulars.” 

“Go to P3.” 

“Why?” 

“There’s a surprise waiting for you.” 

“That sounds terribly suspicious.” 

“You trust me?” 

“Of course.” 

“P3. I’ll be waiting.”

You bite back a wide smile as you lower the phone. 

“I don’t think I’ll be taking the train, sorry. Something came up.” 

“No worries. Maybe tomorrow?” 

“I’d like that, yeah. Get home safe.” 

“You, too!” 

You draw your bag up over your shoulder, heading for the elevator. You can see a couple of photographers outside of the lobby doors—the few that have taken to lingering on a daily basis, and seem entirely unable to take a hint. They seem to perk up as Rose comes out, and then again as another employee leaves. 

-- 

You step off of the elevator, raising an eye as you see an almost entirely empty parking lot. Bruce is just a couple of spaces away, leaning back against his Benz. 

“Did you reserve the entire parking lot?” You tease, waving toward the empty space. 

“I don’t like to brag, but I have some pull around here.” 

“Mm, I’ve heard. Big man on campus.” 

Bruce chuckles, grasping your jaw and drawing you in for a tender kiss. You hum softly, resting your hands on his chest. 

“Was Alfred busy or something?” You ask.

“No.” 

“No?” 

“I wanted to come get you myself.” 

“Why? Is something wrong?” You frown, reeling back. 

“No.” Bruce shakes his head. “I missed you, that’s all. I feel like I've barely spent time with you lately.” 

You melt a little, relaxing against him and eyeing his chest. 

“It’s been busy,” You excuse. 

“It’s that stupid plan.” 

“That stupid plan has been keeping my mother from calling every other day and insisting I move to Metropolis with them, so. It’s a good plan. I like the plan.” 

“She’d been saying that?” 

You bite the inside of your cheek, nodding. “At first, yeah. She was worried about the coverage.” You glance guardedly Bruce. “And you know she’s been trying to get me to move for a while, anyway.” 

Bruce purses his lips before he gives a small nod of concession. 

“C’mon,” You urge. “Are we getting dinner or what?” 

“Alfred is making it back at the manse.” 

“Oh, well excuse me,” You straighten up, rounding the car to the passenger side. Bruce opens the door for you, pecking your lips before you slide in, settling down. It’s just a moment before Bruce is climbing into the driver’s seat beside you. 

“So,” He shuts the door, “How was work?”

You consider for a moment, resting your hand on his thigh. 

“Pretty good. I think I made a friend.”

Next Part

[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.

[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...

[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.”

[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 garment, looks like a Sirwal, 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.