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chuubian · 18 days ago

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Angel of small death

Tags demon Chuuya x fem reader, religious symbolism, cruel Chuuya, loss of virginity, drinking and smoking, no protection, light bondage, is this considered monsterfucking, rough sex, degradation, breeding kink, mirror sex, religious guilt yummm, MDNI

Summary Being a virgin at your age isn’t cute anymore, it’s depressing. You decide to go out and do something about it, but there’s something just a little bit off about the man you met.

A/N hehehe for Valentine's Day I wanted to do something a little bit darker. Chuuya being an angel or demon is always on my mind.

Enough is enough. You have to get this over and done with. No more naively waiting for love, it's time. At this point it was getting embarrassing— being a virgin at 20. Since it didn't happen naturally, you have to take matters into your own hands.

It's agonizing listening to your friends talk about all the things they do and experience. The random hookups, the fruitful relationships, the crazy nights spent just having fun. They actually live life. Why can't you have that? Envy and resentment fills your entire body when they treat it as if it's not a big deal. Your head feels like it's about to explode from bottled up dissatisfaction. There's only one solution.

Growing up evangelical, there was still a sense of dread at the thought of going to a bar. It's a place filled with drinking and sex— filled with sin. Even after leaving the faith, lingering guilt dictates your entire life. Having never been to a bar, you don't know what to expect. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you debate whether you should really wear this. Is it too much?

White lace stockings adorn your thighs. Silk fabric hugs your waist— draping elegantly and accentuating all your best assets. You spent hours agonizing over your hair. It leaves your arms shaking, aching from tedious styling. Glitter is dabbed onto the thin skin of your eyelids, lined with dark charcoal and mascara layered over your eyelashes. This is the best you've ever looked, but self doubt is creeping in. Stalking the dark recesses of your mind. Hunting and butchering any confidence you may have.

Pushing down all your apprehension, you grab your jacket and call a cab. Unfortunately, none of your friends are joining you tonight. If they were, maybe it'd be easier to ignore the giant pit of anxiety forming in the bottom of your stomach. Are you really going to do this? There's still time to stop.

You prepared early. The bottle of tequila in your freezer had been left untouched until this moment. Taking it out, you unsteadily pour yourself a shot. Hopefully this helps your panicking heart— beating away rapidly in your ribcage. Alcohol isn't something you have often. As you throw the drink back, your throat constricts and burns despite it being chilled for several hours, heat pooling in your belly. It tastes bitter and disgusting. Your tummy clenches, attempting to send the drink back up— rejecting it completely.

The taxi is waiting outside when you're done. It takes a few minutes before the tequila affects your cognition, so you get in easily, relaxing into the backseat. It's weird. Being alone, all dressed up. Just to go to a sleazy bar. Tugging at the edges of your clothes— discomfort sinks into your bones. Even your own skin feels foreign. Wrong. And the quietude within the car makes your brain whirl.

The cab arrives quickly. There's a thick cloud of smoke fogging your vision, and plaguing your lungs once you walk inside. It's filled with middle aged, unkempt men. Hardly any women are in sight, and the few that are, have a scowl permanently etched onto their foreheads. You take a seat at the bar, away from any people. It's hard to start up a conversation with anyone.

Nervously, you order yourself a martini. You need something strong. It's salty and horribly bitter, but the drink you had previously— and this one— work together to relax the muscles that were so terribly tense before. Sighing, you look around. Everyone is caught up in their own little world. The determination you had before suddenly vanishes and your only wish is to go home. Despite the warmth blazing through your figure, a cold sweat breaks out over your skin. Shivers seem to attack you, leaving you a pile of terrified bones. You shouldn't have come here. Maybe you were just meant to die a virgin. It's fine, you could live with that. Probably.

“You scared?”

A gruff voice speaks up behind you. You whip your head around. The man is ginger with clearly expensive clothing and an intimidating aura. Something about him makes a shiver run down your spine. Your lips pop open dumbly— forming an ‘O’ shape.

The ginger man's gloved hand comes up to grab your chin, dragging you closer and leaning in— quietly observing every little detail of your face. Although the man is not necessarily large, he’s muscular. Well built. It feels as if he’s towering over you. Like goliath standing over you, squashing any chance of escape or survival.

“Relax, I won't bite… unless you like that.”

Ignoring your instincts screaming at you to run, to run back home and never look back, you feel drawn to the strange man. Something keeps you planted in your stool. His cool minty breath wafts into your face— suffocating you. You take a deep breath, but it does nothing to ease the nerves pulsing beneath your sinew and tissue. He smiles at the sight of your unease.

“I'll get you a drink.”

It's not a question. He wraps an arm around your waist and the intoxicating scent of his cologne smothers you and drowns all your senses. You can't move. The man is strangely cold, and from the corner of your eye you swear you can see a shadow that looks like wings. Maybe it's just your imagination. You shake your head, clearing your mind, and suddenly they're gone.

A disorienting ring echoes through your ears while he orders for you. The rest of the encounter is a blur. Drink after drink appears in front of you, and you down them without a second thought. Your initial apprehension is forgotten as the charming man pulls you closer and closer, until you're almost straddling his lap. You don't seem to notice— or mind— how his hands roam down your waist and teasingly play with the hem of your stockings.

“It’s getting kind of crowded… Why don't we go somewhere more private?”

Veins throbbing with a disgusting mix of alcohol and blood rushing through them, you nod without hesitation. A hollow feeling spreads over your chest and ribcage. Sudden guilt weighs heavy on your shoulders. Are you really doing this?

“To yours?”

It's a question of safety. You may be about to sleep with a man you barely know, but under no circumstances should he know where you live. A wide grin spreads over his features. His teeth are blinding and sharp, like fangs.

“Not exactly.”

He wraps his thin fingers around your wrist, helping you up into your feet. The sudden movement has your head spinning and your stomach churning. God, it feels like you're going to throw up. A silent prayer plays in your mind. Part of you regrets ever even thinking of coming here. This goes against everything you've ever believed in. Against every oath you've ever taken.

The devil themselves must be laughing at you now. Wrapping their slender snake-like tail around your throat and squeezing as hard as they can. You can't protest even if you wanted to. Silently, with shaking legs, you let Chuuya— whose name is the only thing you can truly remember from your conversation— lead you out of the bar and into the cold night air.

“Where are we going?”

He doesn't answer. Did he not hear you? The burnt rubber and tar scent of the street follows you everywhere. Your eyes dart around, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. In the shadows, you can faintly make out the silhouette of smiling figures— laughing and mocking you. Alcohol has rendered your legs practically useless as they quiver with every step, the only thing holding your weaker body up is Chuuya’s strong arms.

Your blurred vision watches his handsome stoic appearance. Is it really possible a man like this is interested in you? Streetlights illuminate his face. He almost looks like an angel. Like something to be worshipped. You can finally see his eyes clearly, without the dark veil his hat leaves in the way.

Wheezing, the small amount of air left in your lungs evaporates. They're stunning. Bright, breathtaking blue. Like nothing you had ever seen before.

Your heart almost stops at the sight.

The dark pupil in the middle of his iris is insanely dark. Oddly shaped. Almost elongated. Is that normal? Nothing about him seems real.

Broken, fluorescent neon lights flicker at you— calling out to you, ridiculing you. Every object surrounding you seems to know who you are and what you're up to. You've never done this, and they know. Everyone does. They can tell from the look on your face. You're not meant to be here.

Barely any cars are parked at the motel’s lot. It's completely empty except for a few shady people hanging around and the bored front desk employee. If something were to happen, no one would hear you scream. Maybe that's why he chose this place.

The flight up the stairs to the room feels like a death march. The man's grip does nothing to relieve the nervous, cold thrill that seems to freeze your blood over. If anything he's making it worse. His skin— even through the layers of clothing— feels like ice. Your hairs are standing on end, prickling you painfully.

“Here we are.”

He takes a small key card out of his pocket, quickly unlocking the door and pulling you inside the room.

It's dirty. The walls are covered in what you can only assume is solidified cigarette smoke. It smells faintly of urine and gasoline. Only scarlet sheets and flat pillows are on the bed— no comforter. Mirrors cover the ceiling above the bed and there's red ambient lighting instead of regular bulbs.

Chuuya does not bother locking the room. He opts to lightly urge you deeper into the room, sitting on the bed, helping you onto his lap with your legs on either side of his. Fear grips your heart. It pounds away in your sternum laboriously, struggling to break free of the restraints this man — no— this thing has it in.

“Wait I.. I have to tell you something.”

“Hm?”

Freezing cold gloved hands caress your legs. Goosebumps rise up your thighs and arms. Your hands apprehensively clutch the lapels of his jacket. The blue in his iris has darkened to nearly pitch black— swallowing any radiance into its depths. He's too close. It's oppressive. You're not sure this is something you'll survive. At least, not with your sanity.

“I've never done anything like this…”

“Oh honey…”

Voice dripping with arrogance, a cheap snicker finds its way onto his smug face. He toys with the lace band of your stockings, pulling and then letting the garter strap snap back against your thigh.

“I know. Anyone with eyes can tell.”

Scorching hot shame burns across your face. Your back seems to absorb it all, spreading it through your entire system and dampening your skin with sweat. Chuuya presses your front completely against his, taking off his gloves and revealing his pale, scarred hands. When he grabs your waist again, you tense up. Sharp claws press against your skin, threatening to rip your flesh apart.

What…?

A dumbfounded gasp rips itself from your lungs. Your mind screams at you to run, but your body won't listen. This is payback. Retribution straight from the lord himself for daring to stray from his teachings. You deserve the hell this devil will put you through.

Chuuya can tell you're afraid, but he won't let go so easily. His sharpened talons dig into the fat surrounding your hips.

“No no no… this is what you wanted. You can't leave that soon.”

His rough lips press against the tender skin of your neck, hot tongue dragging over the veins and arteries beneath your skin— flames engulf you as searing, fervent lust takes over your alcohol infused brain. Your mouth goes dry and your fingertips tingle, going numb.

You never realized how much you need this.

Scratches and bite marks will surely cover your entire body by tomorrow, but you don't really pay it much mind. He’s like a ravenous animal, getting a small taste of food for the first time in a millenia. His huge claws shred through the snowy white silk fabric adorning your figure.

“I can't wait. When I see a sweet thing like you, I can't resist.”

Chuuya bites into the supple flesh of your throat harshly with his pointed, needle-like fangs. Your hands rest on his chest, bracing yourself for the sharp pain that washes over your neck. The soft thump of a heart isn't there, just uneasy stillness.

Your bottom lip trembles, futilely trying to hold back the terror and desperate cries of pain asphyxiating you. A low growl rumbles through his chest. He pushes you down onto your back, eyes wide and staring up at him. Chuuya wastes no time in starting to undress. Nimbly, his flexible, clawed fingers undo the tie loosely knotted around his neck. Jagged nails dig into your wrists, holding them above your head and fastening them down with his tie. If you even tried to get out— which you wouldn't dream of doing— he'd overpower you easily. A lowly sinner is reduced to a devotee in the face of temptation.

With your hands out of the way, the thing can finally have his way with you. He pushes the tattered fabric off your frame. A rush of cold air sweeps over your newly exposed skin. It feels weird. Like being put on display to be assessed and lambasted. Your eyes dart around, desperate for any way to fix the predicament you've gotten yourself in, but there's no way out.

Wrists aching and nagging for freedom, your body tenses as Chuuyas talons trace the lump over your esophagus. Threatening to rip your throat out.

“Cute… Are you scared?”

Smirking, he gets a vicious glint in his eyes— It's a bizarre change from his previously lifeless gaze. A snake wraps itself around your neck, trapping any words that threaten to bubble up. He hovers over you and rids himself of all the layers keeping you two apart.

Chuuya’s skin glistens under the cheap motel lights. It looks plastic-y, unnaturally shiny. Your eyes follow the angelic lines of his strong, muscled chest. It left you breathless— lungs wrung dry. Tears well up in your eyes, obscuring your view, but somehow your corneas can make out vague shadows sticking out of his back, right by his shoulder blades.

“Are those-?”

Rough lips cut you off. Your mind is filled in a hazy cloud of exhilaration and thirst. He tastes like whiskey and cigarettes— a disgusting combination that you can't help being lured by. You let out a surprised squeak as a forked tongue glides over your bottom lip. Chuuya takes that as an opportunity, taking advantage of your bewilderment, to slip his tongue inside, deepening the kiss. It's like he's trying to devour you whole. As if he wants to possess you.

Without thinking, your hands attempt to reach out for the shadows only to be pulled back over your head by the fabric ensnared around your wrists. He lazily drags his lips away from yours. A shameful, loud smack resonates across the otherwise quiet room. Your eyelids flutter open, immediately noticing the inky black feathers behind him— shiny and strong.

A knot of panic expands in your chest. Little glimpses of memories you thought you'd buried down deep bob back up to the surface. Dreading the eventual Armageddon. Fearing not only for yourself, but your family and friends who could be sent to the deepest circle in hell for the simplest of transgressions. There's a reason for those seemingly arbitrary rules in your congregation. You knew what was at stake, but somehow you managed to convince yourself none of it was real. That it wasn't a big deal if you indulged for once.

“You're staring.”

“A demon...?”

You're speechless. Staring at the spread out wings in front of you, Chuuya sits back up straight, leaning away from you and letting you breathe. They're massive. Large enough to cover you entirely, shielding you from the prying eyes of God. A heavy feeling settles in the pit of your stomach and a wave of nausea flushes over you.

“Oh, look at that.”

Chuuya’s voice is lower. Dark and rough— he's enjoying this. His thumb runs over your puffy bottom lip, toying with it. Toying with you. His other hand travels down over your throat, then down to your chest, pinching your nipple meanly, twisting. He relishes in your choked up whine.

“Don't tell me you don't enjoy that, I know it's a lie.”

“I can’t- You're a demon!”

Cackling, he lets go.

“I know, kind of obvious isn't it? Besides… by the way you’re reacting, you clearly like it.”

“But-”

“Shhh. Be quiet.”

Your mouth snaps shut, teeth clanking together bitterly. Leaning down, his lips close around the little nub, fangs attaching themselves onto it and scraping cruelly. A euphoric sensation courses through you, his name tumbling from your lips uncontrollably as your hands clench, arching up into his touch.

“Fuck… C-Chuuya..!”

Tugging harshly, his teeth scrape over your nipple— making your cunt throb. You should not feel this way at the hands of a monster like him. It's wrong.

But it feels so right.

Goosebumps rise up across your skin. Your eyebrows knit together meanwhile his large hands grip onto your waist, claws stinging. Chuuya’s lips pop as he finally lets up, and you finally resign yourself to your fate. Looking up at the ceiling, your body jolts at the sight of his wings reflected on the mirror. They look heavy— held up by his strong back muscles.

His wings sway gently and glitter under the soft red lights, trapping your bodies underneath. Then, Chuuya flips you over onto your tummy— his coarse lips trailing little kisses down your spine. Every time his skin makes contact with yours, little sparks of arousal bounce over your ribs and out to your limbs. His rapid breath tickled you and it was hard to stay still.

Your hands were stretched far above your head, with your elbows and head resting on the cheap, lumpy pillow. He forces your hips up, with your knees planted firmly on the bed and your face embedded in the abrasive cushion below you. Freezing air conditioning chills you to the bone. You're a lab experiment, a scrap of prey— spread open and ready to be dissected.

“Don't move, angel.”

He pushes your back down, forcing it into a painful arch.

“There you go, stay just like that.”

Pointed talons wander past your vertebrae and down to the supple flesh of your ass, leaving dark red scratches etched onto your skin. Your insides are roaring, begging you to fight back. To leave while you can. But your heart wants otherwise. He's so handsome. His smell surrounds you— it's hypnotizing. And although his touch burns, you can't help craving more. He's like a drug you can't get enough of.

Your body easily obeys, trying its hardest to maintain the unpleasant bend in your spine. A strangled cry forces itself past your lips as your legs shake with the effort to hold their own weight up.

“Are you seriously struggling with something so simple?”

Hefty, cold hands land between your shoulder blades, grinding you into the scratchy sheets. A shiver works itself through you. You arduously unclench all your muscles, sucking in lungfuls of sleazy motel air and Chuuya’s heady scent.

“I–I’m trying…”

“It's not enough. Try harder.”

You hear some shuffling behind you, the bed creaks and the heat from Chuuya’s figure is temporarily gone before you feel him looming over you— his thighs pressed against the backs of yours. He leans down, crushing your body underneath his wings encircling you. Nosing at your throat, he presses his hips against your backside, letting you feel how hard he is.

A calloused hand ruthlessly tangles itself in your hair, pulling. His other hand snakes underneath you, leaving behind flashes of heat. You feel feverish as his hand unexpectedly pinches your inner thigh— delighting in the sound you make— before his fingers part your soaked, messy folds. Your form tenses when a finger easily slips in, embarrassing squelching sounds fill the air as he pumps it into you.

The intrusion feels foreign, not good or bad, just different. You let out a sigh of relief, glad that it's not as painful as you feared. Chuuya's thumb gets to work on your clit, rubbing it in tight little circles. Your body moves as if it's been electrocuted, letting out a garbled moan.

“Chuuya…”

“Feels good huh?”

Another finger joins the first, curling against your sweet spot. It doesn't take long for you to be reduced to a puddle of tears and snot— fat globs of salty teardrops soaking the pillow beneath you. Your lower belly aches, an empty craving spreading and shrouding you. An angelic plea falls from your lips, with his name distorted and muffled.

Your weeping only encourages him more— his pace getting faster and rougher. His claws, despite being sharp enough to cut your ribcage open, don't hurt. Your mind is solely focused on the sensation of his flexible fingers inside your dripping cunt. It's not surprising that a demon would be so well versed in matters of depravity.

Just as the pool of heat in your tummy seems like it's going to erupt, when it feels like your figure is floating— ascending to a new heaven, Chuuya’s movements halt. The blood rushes within your ear canal loudly and your tissue is shuddering underneath your skin. It takes everything in you to hold back your sobs. His surprisingly gentle hand cards through your hair, shushing you sweetly.

“Shhh dont cry, angel. I didn't even hurt you, you should've known I wouldn't let you cum that fast. It's, honestly, all on you.”

He stays like that— with his entire mass weighing you down. Carefully, his fingers withdraw and your body fights to keep him in place, squeezing around nothing. You feel too empty. Now that you've had a taste of the forbidden fruit, you can't fathom a world without it.

There's a pulsing lump in your throat from the built up frustration, drawing a shaky sigh from your belly. Your ears barely manage to pick up the noise of his thick, feathery wings flapping and the low growl that vibrates in his chest. Thankfully the stinging in your eyes has finally stopped at this point, but it's not enough for Chuuya. He needs more.

He doesn't make you wait much longer, pushing into the sloppy mess of your pussy. The air is shoved out of your lungs. Your body tightens, denying him entry, floundering. Every cell of your being stings.

“Fuck.. w-wait..”

Chuuyas hips still. One hand comes up to rest on your thigh, leaving a trail of your arousal cooling on the surface of your skin. His thumb traces gentle circles onto the soft flesh of your hips. The hand in your hair tugs at the locks sternly, turning your entire head to face the side wall.

“Watch.”

The back of your neck strains to angle itself the way he wants— it feels like your head is about to snap off. Your eyes drift over to the mirror veiling the wall. You can see everything from here— the flexing of his muscles, how his wings hang low and heavy, the way his stronger body easily molds and manipulates your own. His figure glows under the cheap lighting, the red hair surrounding his face looks like a crimson halo— the former golden glow now tainted by the depravity he surrounds himself with regularly.

“Chuuya please!”

He doesn't wait for you to relax before completely sheathing himself inside of you, groaning when his pelvis crashes with your backside, forcing your walls to make way for him. It's too sudden. Too big. Is he a fucking monster?? The curve of your spine, your knees, and your wrists all sting— pushed to their limits and more. There's no way you can handle more, but Chuuya does not exactly grant you the freedom of choice.

Your scalp tingles as his grip in your hair tightens. His hips start rocking up into you, forcing you to adjust. You choke on your own spit as he savagely pounds against your sweet spot, spearing you open and holding you down.

“Oh God…”

“Don't call him, he's not here, I am.”

The mirrored image is hard to make out through the wave of tears building in your waterline, but you can faintly make out the image of his flushing skin and aggressive movements. You don't even want to look at yourself. The image of you bent to a demon's will is far too humiliating to take.

“Even your God can't help you now.”

Beads of moisture slide between your bodies, sticking your hair to your overheated forehead. Pitchy wails get trapped in the hollow of your chest. Chuuyas defined muscles overextend themselves as they pick up the pace, slamming his cock into your sensitive cunt without faltering. Every nerve ending in your body is lit on fire, frayed and hyper-sensitive. Through the reflection, you swear you see his eyes go fully dark— like black holes, sucking in any life that they can.

“Agh… f-fuck…”

Unconsciously, your hips roll back against him. There's something so delicious about being split open like this. It hurts like hell. Every single muscle, tendon, ligament, and bone in your figure is going to be screaming at you tomorrow. But through the intense torture youre being put through, your neurons can still find bliss in the afterglow.

There is no pleasure without pain. No light without darkness.

“Fucking slut.”

You let out a mortified, wounded cry wail beneath him, squirming. Eyebrows and nose scrunching, your protests come out in distorted groans. Your hands clench, digging your nails into the palm of your hand as your elbows struggle to stabilize themselves. Every time you attempt to get back up, Chuuya speeds up— brutally whacking his hips into the plush tissue of your ass, fucking you dumb.

The choir of salacious noises between the two of you sound inhuman. Your throat feels like it's being torn open with a knife. Your eyes shut tight, toes curling, as your entire body tenses and shudders. Lava seems to form in your lower tummy, boiling you from the inside out.

“This is all you’re good for, isn't it? Say it”

“Nghh N-no!”

Your brain is spinning, obliged to accept the overloading sensations and transgressions Chuuya is committing against you. Every movement in your body is dulled and slowed— it's like your nervous system would rather focus on the vicious slam of his hips into your cunt, than to help you have any form of mobility.

“Fucking say it.”

Your mouth forms the words before you have a chance to deny them.

“That's all I’m g-good for…”

A puddle forms on the dirty motel sheets made of your arousal, sweat, and your melting figure. Chuuyas arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer, wings encapsulating both your bodies and hiding the mirror from view. It's almost romantic how sweetly he holds you.

Almost.

“ ‘m gonna fucking breed you. You're mine.”

The puddle of lava in your tummy gets more and more restless— bubbling angrily and threatening to erupt. With one last ruthless thrust into the spongy little spot inside you, the lava surges out, burning everything around it. Your orgasm seems to go on forever, scorching you but also dunking you in arctic waters. Chuuyas hips still against you, releasing hot spurts of cum into you. You can't really think about what that could mean for you in the future.

The apocalypse feels like it has finally come for you. Destroying everything in its way and leaving the earth a blazing wasteland. Only this time, you aren't worthy of salvation. You will be left alone to the mercy of the devil before you. Revolting bile is pushed against your teeth and you're forced to swallow it back.

Remorseful, your body trembles with effort as you attempt to sit up— to get Chuuya out of you and away from you as soon as possible. Only, it's impossible to move. Chuuya’s chuckle is devious and low, sending a chill through your bones.

“Oh no… I'm not done with you yet, angel.”

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