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cavillscurls · 29 days ago

Text

wherever you stray, i’ll follow

alpha!joel miller x omega f!reader

Joel resents the choice to allow an unmated omega into Jackson—until he’s the only one who can help her feel at home.

warnings/tags: MDNI. Jackson era. Joel’s POV. Alternate universe: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics. Implied Soulmates. Alpha!Joel. Omega!Reader. SoftDom!Joel. Sub!Reader. Enemies-ish to lovers. Grumpy x Sunshine. Joel is emotionally constipated. Unspecified age gap. Stereotypical gender roles. Fluff. Angst. Self-flagellation. Poor coping & communication skills. Explicit smut. Dub-con elements due to the nature of heats, but everything is explicitly consented to. Size kink/size difference—Joel is huge in this, like 6’5, thick, broad, and burly. Reader has pubic hair. Pet names. Dirty talk. Scenting/scent marking. Man-handling. Fingering. Squirting. Drinking bodily fluids. Oral (f receiving). Multiple orgasms, somewhat uncontrolled. Unprotected PIV. Tummy buldge. Knotting. Breeding kink. Pregnancy implications. Adult Alpha!Ellie, Beta!Tommy, & Alpha!Maria make an appearance. Ambiguous-ish ending. wc: 10.7k

➻ a/n: this fic has been a long time coming & means so, so much to me. this won’t be for everyone, & that’s ok. i pictures game!joel for majority of this, but he is left to your imagination as always. thank you to @kiwisbell for beta reading and supporting me during the writing process. any feedback is so appreciated enjoy. x

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Tommy Miller had always been the foolish brother, but even Joel found his particular lack of cautiousness that night out of the ordinary.

There were three members. What was left of a pack, likely separated or raided. They had entered the walls of Jackson that fateful evening—the walls Joel and his brother happened to be manning—dirty and famished, overly emotional and outwardly grateful for the sanctuary. The first two, an elderly woman and a teenage boy, betas. He could tell just by the way they walked, the monotonous way they carried themselves, crossing the threshold of their haven with Maria at the helm of the herd.

“The boy’ll be a good addition to routes, whenever he’s old enough,” Tommy had remarked. Ever the optimist, too keen on seeing the good in people to even acknowledge the risk that was posed every time another body came through those gates.

And a risk it was.

Joel Miller had experienced a fair share of fear in his life. Real, unadulterated fear, enough to bring a grown man to his knees despite his efforts to rise above it. A fear contrived by something entirely out of his control, forces working against the walls he’d built around himself, the rough exterior that fought, and bled, and killed, and protected. But the fear he felt that ghastly night remained unlike any other. It was entirely from within, something deeply embedded in himself. Fear, once harnessed as a means of survival, reduced to a shackle, left entirely at its disposal. It rose from his toes into his head where his ears rang and his face burned.

Time stalled. His senses were numb to everything but this walking force of nature that, at first glance, was an indiscernible canvas of shivering limbs. But as it drew closer, the details were impossible to avoid. The shape of lips and sad eyes. The foreboding sound of a beating heart. Oxygen was no longer a necessity of survival, but vanilla and lilac and something so distinctly, uniquely sweet became the vice in his lungs.

And it happened so fast, the way fear turned to panic and panic into anger—angry that he had no control or say over how the thing inside of him responded to the thing emerging before him. Powerless. He watched at a standstill as each body lining the wall stiffened upon your entrance. Even his brother, whose composure hardly faltered, could be heard inhaling a sharp breath of disbelief.

Omega.

She isn’t stopping. Why isn’t she stopping?

Joel’s eyes shot toward Maria, her indomitable gaze remaining forward on the parting doors. He had to fight the sudden urge to jump the gate over how seemingly unfazed she looked. His sister-in-law was a lot of things, but foolish wasn’t one of them. How could she be so foolish?

A question left unspoken, unanswered, because his body was not his own. The sound of pounding rattled in his chest, blaring in his ears. A flame ignited. A switch flipped. The world as he knew it became mute to the battling voice that rang inside his head.

Why isn’t she stopping? What is she doing here? It’s not real. There’s no more. There’s not supposed to be any more. It’s cold. It’s too cold, she’s not wearing a proper jacket. Where’s her jacket? She can’t be here. She’s not allowed to be here. How could she survive this long? Alone? She’s alone. No Alpha. Alone—

He vaguely recalled the sound of his brother shouting his name; a growl settled low in his chest and the heels of his hands pressed against his temples as he tore himself away from the perimeter and stormed through town.

He needed to get away. Put as much distance between him and that thing that poked and prodded at what was to remain untouched. That stirred him, that set him quick to anger as those of his kind were notorious for. What he worked hard to not be.

He wasn’t sure how long he paced. How many glasses of whiskey he downed, or the number of curses he threw at his walls, but later that evening, when he had subdued himself to some sort of composure, Joel sought after his brother and his wife, making it a point to address the issue head-on. He burst through their door without knocking:

“Are you out of your fuckin’ mind?”

“Joel—!” snapped the younger Miller, bouncing to his feet from the couch where he sat beside Maria, already engaged in conversation over what Joel could assume was the reckless decision at hand.

“It’s fine, Tommy,” Maria interjected, extending a cautionary hand toward her husband. Her focused eyes took a once over of the fuming man in front of her. “Joel, I’m not turning away perfectly capable people. They pose no threat to us; we��ll find each of them a place here.”

People. Them. Joel knew his sister-in-law wasn’t so naive as to think he was distressed over a couple of betas. The patronizing calm of her voice stirred him on, and he flashed his teeth at her when he spoke, low and gritty. A fight for dominance.

“She’s an omega. Unmated.”

“And we’ll be sure to make accommodations for that.” Maria nodded slowly, carefully. She was all too familiar with the taming of beasts.

Joel shook his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. “There are twelve goddamn unmated alphas in these walls, Maria.”

“Yeah, you included,” she clipped, and that shut him up good. “And with the way things are progressing, soon enough, Ellie.”

That made him nauseous.

Ever since her eighteenth birthday, she had been showing all the tell-tale signs of an emerging alpha. Joel knew—despite his unpreparedness and objections to the thing called nature—there was nothing he could do to stop it. The only other option was to prepare. And up until that point, Joel had thought his adopted daughter's presentation was the worst of his worries.

He wasn’t prepared to reevaluate his own self-control.

He hadn’t dealt with a rut since Boston; it was only the start of FEDRA’s reign, before the suppressants had been sufficiently pumped into the population, and fiery instinct was reduced to a dull nuisance. And while his access to the aid was now nonexistent, he still hadn’t considered it possible anymore before you showed up. Upon his and Ellie's arrival, the measly two other omegas in his vicinity had already inhabited Jackson. Both mated.

Joel assumed the next time he encountered the type, it would be when one in the community presented. And by that point, he hoped he’d be far too old for the monster inside his head to have any more biological control.

The solution had been to set you up in the cottage furthest from the center of town. It was a decent little space that had been used for storage until late, having cleared the fireplace last fall for ample central heating and restoring some of the rotten infrastructure. As deliriously naive as he saw it, the belief appeared to be that the distance of your dwelling from the rest of Jackson would prevent any complications if they arose. When they did. Joel couldn’t decipher what genius course of action his sister-in-law had for when the time came, but his protests were silenced by the majority. And by morning, you had claimed your corner of sanctuary.

That was six months ago.

And while the winds of winter kept the newcomers isolated with adjustment, the summer's heat brings livelihood—and much more of you.

Your voice, your laughter, your scent. It permeates Jackson’s walls like a disease, saturating Joel’s life despite his efforts to avoid your very existence.

You contribute your share at the daycare, of all places, often seen with a young pup clinging to your neck. Sometimes, the little ones chase after you in the center of town—running towards you with excited, grubby hands and beaming smiles. You always grace them with an embrace. It’s in your nature, the ability to comfort, to nurture.

You’re gentle. Kind. Considerate. A smile brighter than a thousand stars. Perfection didn’t appear to have a name until the universe made you, and there is no denying the intrinsic effect you have on those around you.

Because the rest of the town fucking adores you.

There is no escaping you. As hard as he tries, you linger at every turn, in every breath of the wind that creeps down his back and stands the hair up on his skin. Most are in awe, admiring the creature that glides before them, whose presence adds to balance the very nature they all endure. A missing piece of a puzzle, something delightful and pure.

Rare.

Not diamonds, or rubies, or gold can compare. But in tandem comes those who feed on things that shine, and he knows that some—a very specific some—leer with less adoration and increased selfishness. Some who believe they are owed for the mark you bear, whose pride and lust drive their ambition, whose power is unmatched in the face of something so helpless.

He’s aware, by the principle of semantics, that he falls into this greedy some. Though he could not identify further from it. And while the monster may heave and thrash within the dwindling confines of his chest, lured to all that is so rare, Joel had decided the moment you walked through those gates he would have none of it. He would not reduce himself to the thing he worked tirelessly to tame, nor would he entertain the force of nature that drove someone like you to something like him.

You’re aware of his distaste for you. That much is obvious in how you blatantly evade him in town, skirting around when you are forced to share the vicinity, a terrified thing, so easily spooked.

Once, a few months prior, he had been asked to repair some of the leaky ceiling panels in the schoolhouse. Unbeknownst to him—and you, he assumed, judging by the way your eyes nearly bulged out of your skull at the sight of him and how the honeyed stench of the room turned sour—they were all located in the daycare room.

What followed could only be described as two hours of slow, burning torture. He tried his very best to stay on task, he really did. But he was hindered by the discernible discomfort you exhibited and all it did to the thing inside of him. You tripped over your words to the fellow attendants in the room, couldn’t seem to locate anything you were looking for, and at one point, had to excuse yourself for what turned into a twenty-minute-long disappearance. And where he stood, high up on the ladder, trying to balance his body and his mind, Joel hated how worried your absence made him. He couldn’t see you, couldn’t hear you, couldn’t smell you for those agonizing twenty minutes, and that anger he felt the first day he laid eyes on you returned. Because he was not a man that gave up control.

And you, for whatever reason, wielded a great deal of it over him.

The first day of summer promises a bonfire. Dusk, in the open plain beyond the stables, the laughter of children and the strum of music are bringing the community to life. These are cherished moments amongst the whole of Jackson, and Joel isn’t the kind of man to be so self-absorbed that he can’t understand why. He had, up until six months ago, once enjoyed the camaraderie. It was the first time in decades he felt a semblance of impulse to let go. No more running, fighting, grieving.

He can hardly remember that feeling now. In its place returns caution, unpredictability. Six months and the work of years lost. He feels insane—the lurking monster that haunts his own shadow. And as hard as he tries to shake it, he fails every time. The feeling is embedded, brought to life by its complimentary fragment that, much to his dismay, walks the very same walls. Lurks in the same shadows.

He used to feel stable, steady. Not any longer.

Your hair is tied half up today, out of your eyes—he’s watching you. Not watching, observing. This is the trade-off, the compromise to keep the beast satiated. Always from afar, and never with the intent of action, he observes you and all you are. It’s a part of his routine, studying the way you move, the way you exist in this space you’re both forced to inhabit. Constantly drawn to one another, even in distance, even without trying. Magnetic.

Frustrating.

You’re smiling at something. And then laughter, like the sweetest song rattles his eardrums. You sit on a blanket across the mountainous flames, your legs tucked under you, beside two other girls he couldn’t care to remember the names of. Briefly, he wonders what it is that you find so amusing.

A misfortune at the hand of another?

No, he cannot imagine you to be so cruel.

An anecdote from the daycare?

Seems far more likely. The type to find joy in what you do, in all that is around you.

He’s envious of this, maybe. The effortless way of being attracted to what is deemed good. He tries to remember a time when he knew another person like that; all that ever follows are brief memories full of sorrow. The hazy outline of something, someone, so perfect in a way no one should be. He always dismisses the thought. He would never know what it means to be that way, after all.

“Nice night.”

He damn near jumps out of his boots. Tommy’s sudden materialization beside him diminishes any spirals of imagination, a blessing in disguise.

Still, Joel is bothered by the disturbance. His little haven of borderline-stalker tendencies crushed under his brother's obnoxious foot. He merely grunts in response.

“Glad we finally got this event together,” Tommy continues nonetheless, a hand on his hip, sipping his beer bottle and glancing similarly across the flames. Joel’s eyes have already left you, his arms folding taut across his chest while he casts his gaze anywhere else, if only for the sake of avoiding his brother's inevitable chastising. “Good to get the kids out… good to get everyone out, really. Nice chance to mingle.”

Subtle. Real subtle.

“Out with it, Tommy.” He doesn’t feel like playing this game tonight. He wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the sake of appeasing his brother, or rather, his brother's wife. “Whatever it is you wanna say to me… out with it.”

Tommy shrugs. “Nothin’ to come out with, Joel. Just that y’all have been here two years already and still seems like you have a tough time with these things.”

He doesn’t miss the chosen emphasis. And it’s true, to an extent. While precarious in her initial adjustment, Ellie has been far more social than he. He talks to people. He just doesn’t trust them. Not those outside his immediate circle. And why should he? Joel does his work. He lends a hand to the community where he can. He’s polite. Punctual. Reliable. But he’s still living in the end of the fucking world, a world he has seen more brutality and injustice in than he ever would have cared to. So what if he doesn’t want to roast marshmallows and sing campfire songs?

“What is it that you want from me, Tommy? I’m here, ain’t I?”

“Don’t want nothin’ from you, brother,” Tommy says with a shake of his head, and Joel still can’t pinpoint just when his little brother finally grew the fuck up. Twenty years of lost time will do that to a person. “Just wanna be sure you’re livin’ this second chance to the fullest.”

A second chance.

He can pinpoint a time where he would have killed for one of those.

And perhaps he did just that, and the real fault lies in being unable to embrace the outcome. Or maybe, the misery he lives in is the price he pays for the choices that led him here. Second chance shrouded in self-loathing.

His brother persists: “Take advantage of how lucky ya are to be here, how lucky we all are to be here, to have…options.”

Has he ever been good at weighing those? Twenty years ago, he would have had a different answer. Twenty years ago, he wouldn’t have known the debilitating options of life or death. This isn’t the first time Tommy has presented the topic of conversation, and he’s certain it won’t be the last. He wonders when he’ll find a response that appeases him, if ever.

“Just try to enjoy yourself a little tonight, alright?”

He doesn’t answer. He lacks the discipline to say something of substance. Instead, he turns his head forward and strains his arms against his chest, silent and brooding, until his brother sighs, pats him on the shoulder, and slips away.

This is enjoyable enough; left to his own devices, keen to observe the joy around him, a silent hope that some of it may permeate, keep an eye on—

He’d been too preoccupied with Tommy’s noise to notice you’d disappeared from his line of sight. His brows furrow and he scans the perimeter of the bonfire. Your friends have moved to the beverage stand, but the spot you had occupied beside them is vacant.

He cocks his head left, then right, scanning for signs; the cadence of your voice, the shape of you, your scent. And he’s frustrated. Because how could he let you vanish so fast? Where? Why?

It’s something instinctive that compels him to act at the first sign of trouble. It’s the faintest thing, a subtle waft in the wind he’s certain no one would catch unless they were searching for it. Sour and burnt, his nose wrinkles.

He does a one-eighty and panic seizes his chest.

Your silhouette may be foreign to the common eye, but he’s learned it well. It tramples and scrambles through the foliage, distressed; a good two, three hundred yards away from the crowd and headed in the direction of your dwelling.

He’s honed in. A nerve fires inside his chest. His heart ticks to a beat that suffocates his eardrums, and there’s a churning in his gut that threatens to yank him forward.

He turns back toward the flames, only once, before his footsteps fall in stride with you.

He wonders just how long he’s been blind. How many days had passed since the tell-tale signs began to emerge. When you knew, if you knew, or if this very moment, here and now, is the one mother nature decided to take you by the hand and guide you down the imminent path.

Joel always watches you. Observes. How could he have let this slip under his radar?

He’s imagined this exact scenario numerous times before. Though in his head, havoc rained, blood was shed, and carnage laid bare across the whole of town. A wreckage for all to witness, to acknowledge the barbarous creatures that walk amongst them. Twelve starved, selfish alphas seeking a single, undeserved prize.

In theory, his expectations aren’t all that far-fetched. In a time before, they may have been a reality. When there was no order. When creatures with perceived power could take and take, and others would be remiss to challenge them.

But here, in the haven he occupies, those expectations are mere theatrics.

Here, the air is frighteningly quiet, save for the joyous voices in the distance, the whistle of the breeze. He’s aware of the sound of his boots crunching against the ground, how the weight of them seems to melt into the earth with each daunting step. They follow after lighter, fluttering tip-toes; a scared, scampering thing on the run from all that could harm her. Alone.

Vulnerable.

The closer he follows, the clearer your labored huffs reach his ears. The aroma in the air loses its earthy notes and adopts the sweetness you shed. A trail of seeds yet to sprout, bathed in moonlight, beckoning him closer. A single lantern is left lit on the cottage steps, a beacon. You clamber up them two at a time, and in tandem, his careless foot snaps a twig beneath his boot.

Your head whips around, sharp eyes pinning daggers to his chest.

“I ain’t here to hurt you.”

He puts his hands up in careful defense, leaving the vast space of the porch steps between you. Your chest is heaving and your temples are already damp. Your eyes have glossed over, a crazed look, and he knows the fever has taken the reins.

But there is no urge to pounce. No incessant need to satisfy a selfish craving. It’s there, it lives, but it does not drive him the way he always suspected it would. It’s evicted from the home of fears that feed on his consciousness, and in its place, emerges something just as innate. As plain and clear as all other parts of him he once tried to diminish.

“What do you need?” he asks softly, carefully. Unprotected prey are easily spooked.

Your eyes dart every which way, searching for the complimentary predators. They glisten with tears under the porch lights, sweat reflecting off your forehead the more you lose yourself, and he knows that you’re afraid. He can feel it.

“Omega,” Joel commands, and your wide eyes snap right back to him. Drawn to him and all that he is. If his instincts weren’t so hellbent on curbing your fears, he would’ve scolded himself for abusing such a power. “What do you need?” he repeats, a bit more pointedly.

He watches the way your throat constricts when you swallow, brows twitching together in study of him. Searching for some ulterior motive, no doubt, but the trepidation is brief. Your nostrils flare in deep inhalation, and he wonders what remedy he must exude to ease you so effortlessly.

You trust him.

A terrifyingly naive mistake.

And yet, there is no denying the way his chest swells with pride and how the monster inside of him roars to life.

“Keep the rest of them away,” you say finally, and it’s all he needs to hear. The rest is second nature.

He nods dutifully, lingering at the bottom of the steps. He waits until you blink the haze out of your darkening eyes, giving him a final once over, and scramble the door open and shut, before he climbs to the top of the steps. He turns his back to the door, his arms crossed over his chest like they had been while he watched you through the fire, his eyes forward—focused. An unmatched mode of protection activates. He hears the deadbolt lock, and he’s grateful for your diligence. Though he knows it’s useless. Every alpha in a ten-mile radius would smell you within minutes.

And that smell.

It’s only now that he notices its potency. It grows and swells the longer you’re hidden inside; waves of vanilla and citrus that are almost too sweet. They burn his nose. Coat the back of his throat in thick tar, making it impossible for him to swallow without a taste of you.

The beast grows, a second skin now. It occupies him further as each moment passes by. His fingers twitch, his own brow dampens, and an unrelenting ache settles low in his stomach.

He gruffs out a breath, shaking his head rapidly. He needs to keep it together. He needs to move.

He’s stalking the perimeter in a craze, eyes and ears on high alert. He leaves his mark behind wherever he can, brushing up against trees, allowing the dense pheromones that seep out of his skin to pollute the air. It isn’t foolproof, but it’s enough to dampen the sweet nectar radiating off your walls, at least for a time.

He starts to panic when he finally hears the first little moan slip through the walls. A soft, restless thing, and the ache in his gut flourishes, threatening to send him to his knees. He seeks purchase on the rail of the porch, having made his way back to the door. He squeezes his eyes shut. This cannot be happening.

Clarity becomes overshadowed by instinct, and the ache expands into his chest, his fingertips, his toes. It’s been years, and the onset is no less overwhelming. He’ll do what he can to prolong it, ensure that he is of his right mind when the height of the fever takes you. He can’t imagine what he’ll do, otherwise.

But his patience is tested. The soft scratch beyond the front door makes sure of it.

His ears perk up and his nostrils flare. He can make out a faint creak, weight shifting. Palms to the panes, a body pressing against the wood. Warmth seeps through the cracks.

“Joel?”

There you are.

His body carries him up the steps–he doesn’t have to think about moving. His muscles and joints, his very soul seem to be linked to your command. He stands with his toes pressed to the bottom of the door, and it’s getting harder to breathe. Harder to discern what’s right in front of him. He squeezes his eyes shut.

“I’m here.”

Your breath wavers, a sigh of relief. He zeros in on what he can make of you through the barrier, the last shred of sanity.

“I’m sorry,” you finally croak, and his eyes shoot open, brows laced in confusion.

“You have nothin’ to be apologizing for–”

“No, I do,” you press, and the words come with great difficulty. Heavy and strained, as if it is critical you say them now.

Perhaps it is. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows it’s only a matter of time before you’re not entirely yourself. Before he won't be able to get a coherent answer out of you, when every action you take relies solely on relief.

He’ll take the opportunity to listen to what you have to say while you still can. You seem to realize it too as your words start to pour out, staggered and rushed:

“I know I’ve done something… something to upset you for all this time, and—and I’m sorry. Whatever it is, I’m sorry, and I’ll fix it. I’ll fix it, Joel. I promise. Just please—”

“Stop that.”

He can't even begin to believe what he’s hearing. Can’t possibly fathom the damage he’s caused, all he’s insinuated with his behavior, his choices.

Him. He is to blame.

Yet, you’re the one near tears. You’re the one who begs for forgiveness, where no plea nor apologies need be. You’ve convinced yourself, or rather, he’s indoctrinated you into believing you are the one to blame.

That you are the monster.

And oh, does it make his blood boil with well-acquainted self-loathing.

“You don’t—you haven’t—”

Now he’s the one sputtering. Where does one find the words to right infinite wrongs?

You’ve reached an impasse, and this is surely the desperation speaking. He’ll have to be the level headed one, steer you in the right direction. A chance to redeem himself, as great a feat it’s proving to be. He musters up the courage, sets his pride aside.

“You ain’t done nothin’ wrong, you hear me?” His lips are near pressed against the wood, seething through them, desperate for you to latch on to each painful word. “You needa know that, all right? You… you ain’t the one to blame here.”

The admission is ash on his tongue. Speaking it aloud, bringing it to life. His ears strain for any sign of you, fallen silent. Something inside possesses the urge to break clean through the wood.

“Help me.”

Forgiveness. Guilt welded to his chest now shattered and set free by the capabilities of kindness. You hardly know one another, and yet, there is mutual understanding. An agreement that surpasses time, bonded to what you’re made of.

“Alpha,” you call, and Joel has to brace himself against the frame to keep from falling. His chest beams, his belly stirs, and the sting of desire plagues him. “Please.”

He had read about the process once, long before. Disorientation. Excruciating aches that make it nearly impossible to stand upright. A tingling sensation so intense, that it replicates that of burning on the skin.

Pain.

You’re in pain, and he knows he can stop it.

And soon enough knowing turns to needing, and he can feel a fraction of the pain you’re enduring. It’s enough to shatter his resolve.

A heavy hand rests on the doorknob. A beat. And then, as if on cue, he hears the deafening sound of the deadbolt unlatching.

He hesitates, opportunity served on a golden platter. Sifts through the repercussions of what could follow. But when the door opens and shuts again, he’s on the other side of it. The lock latches, this time, under his own hand.

You’ve shuffled your way back from the door. Standing, though by the looks of it, with great difficulty. You’re no longer in your pretty summer dress, but a t-shirt large enough to swallow you and little shorts so short he can smell right through them.

Even from a distance, his height climbs above you in the way only predators leverage prey. But he knows you’re unafraid. He can sense your fascination with him just by observing you; it’s as plain as the air he breathes, something intrinsic and right as hard as he’s worked to deem it wrong. It’s in the way that you stiffen, your body having no other choice than to respond to him. Wide eyes appraise every inch of him, and you trouble your bottom lip with your teeth in a spot he would very well like to taste.

The aroma is suffocating; it seeps into his pores and wraps its eager hands around his throat. He won’t be able to rid himself of you for days, even if he tries.

He’s grown pompous, it seems. For the thought of those he passes enduring a whiff of you on his skin stirs his cock in his jeans. The idea that awakens him, the prospect of becoming his.

“I’m scared,” you hiccup, and he suddenly remembers he has greater things to tend to.

He has a million questions, torn between action and rationale.

When was the last time this happened? Do you have enough supplies prepared? How long is it expected to last?

But none of that matters right now. She matters. And she needs you.

“I know, baby.” He’s terrified, and the words spill out. “But you’re gonna get through it, ya hear me?” He takes another step closer. “We’re gonna get through it.”

And there is a glimmer in your eyes, that of hope, and he knows that he is powerless in this battle he’s fought against himself for so long. He’s only prolonging the inevitable.

“You’ll help me?” It's all pleas and hope and teetering near the symphony of begging, but he can’t hear you beg. He can’t bear the sound nor the implication, as he’s certain it will ruin him. But: “Please,” you whimper, plucking his kryptonite out of thin air and wielding it against him. And it’s only then that he notices the way your thighs tremble together, desperately searching for some sort of friction. “It hurts.”

And he loses, loses the fight. He is lost to you. He always has been.

“Turn around,” he beckons, and you obey him because you’re good. You’ll be so good for him.

Because you know exactly what she needs.

The floorboards creek beneath his feet, and when he reaches you, fingers drag the bulk of your hair over one shoulder. He watches the muscles flex below his touch, the way your hands ball into tight fists at your sides. He’s hit with the overwhelming scent of your exposed gland, and his mouth waters.

Focus, the thing inside him chastises. You’ll have plenty of time to taste.

He takes a final step, flushing the front of his chest with your backside. Greedy hands latch on to your waist, followed by the slump of your body into him. Your head lolls back onto his shoulder, and your lips part in a sigh—a pretty little sound, though he’s determined to alleviate the burden it stems from.

He reaches for one of your fists, taking you by the wrist. Your fingers unfurl upon his touch, and he uses it as an opportunity to fold his own overtop your knuckles. He guides your joint hands, settling them low over your belly.

“Show me,” he murmurs, dipping his head to the crook of your neck. His lips dance over the skin, and your legs begin to tremble. He keeps the hand at your hip firm, an anchor. “Show me where it hurts.”

Your breath catches and your eyelids flutter, half-open. Your fingers squeeze around his, and without hesitation, he squeezes back. He’s here. He’s got you. He won't let you go.

And with that reassurance, hands descend, following your lead. You claw away the t-shirt hem, idling above the waistband of your shorts before sinking underneath. A low growl rumbles in his chest at his findings, muffled into your hair. You comb his fingers through soft curls, the flesh below hot and throbbing. Together, you cup the little seam of your cunt, and Joel has to fight the urge to fall to his knees, pry you open here and now.

You’re dripping. Warm slick pools in his hand, sticky against your thighs. He feels a pulse of it spill out of you when his fingertips prod at your hole, your back arching off his chest, another devastating gasp of air choking you.

He’s already dizzy, high on the fumes of you. He shuts his eyes when his vision begins to blur. And he’s hard. So achingly stiff against your back, if he thinks about it for too long, he's sure to lose control. You’ll send him into a full blown rut, he’s certain of it. Likely, you already have, teetering at the edge. And as these minutes tick, the less time he has to prepare you. To warm you up and slather you in pleasure before brute nature runs its course.

“Joel,” you whine. His eyes flash back open, pupils doubled in size.

“Bedroom. Now.”

He releases you, but only after giving a handful of your ass a terse squeeze. You squeal, nearly leaping out of his touch. You flash him your eyes only once before tiptoeing forward, and he’s hot on your heels, stalking after you. Patience drowned deep, mangled by desire.

Your room is to be expected, cozy and warm, entirely you. Under any other circumstance, he’d have more appreciation for the homemade candles and delicate tapestries, the various posters displaying your interests and the native plants you’ve taken the care to pot and house.

But he’s immediately drawn to your mattress, the piles of pillows and blankets strewn about in a fashion only you are to understand. You’ve been busy since you left him on the porch.

You stop a few feet shy of the bed, glancing over your shoulder at him, uncertain. There’s a shift in your aura, suddenly grown timid. There’s a guilty sort of gleam in your eyes, but he recognizes it for what it really is—shame. That you cannot control your erratic breathing, or the heat that creeps over your brow. That your body faces the impulse of preparation for something beyond your control, and now, you’re forced to lay it bare for him to witness.

He holds no judgment, only empathy. There is beauty in this vulnerability, and for the first time, he understands the gravity of your trust in him. Something in the shape of fulfillment blooms.

“Here?” he asks, nudging his chin toward the heap.

You nod once, and he shrugs the flannel off his shoulders. An offering, and you accept it wordlessly, eagerly. You eye it in your hands, then him, back again, hesitant. You’re shy now that he’s indulged you.

That’s alright. She just needs you to take your time with her.

Finally, you slowly bring the wad of it up to your nose and inhale. Your eyes droop shut, lashes kissing the apples of your cheeks, and his chest beams with pride at the notable fall of your shoulders. Tension evades you, replaced with the comfort of his scent. His.

“Go on,” he instructs gently, once he has your eyes again. He wishes he could peer inside your head, decipher the wary thoughts that live so plainly on your face.

Nonetheless, you shuffle your way to the mattress, carefully crawling on top of it. It’s painfully adorable, the way you gnaw at your bottom lip and analyze the space, his flannel still clutched in your fist.

He also recalls reading about this, how it’s imperative that your space be designed to your exact liking. The assistance of a trusted alpha’s scent is a surefire way to heighten comfort.

So when you drape his flannel over the pillow you lay your head upon at night, and tuck it in tight around the edges, he’s overcome with a mighty wave of emotion. He is strengthened, his affliction no longer a weakness, but a gift. A means of sustaining your well-being. He almost feels unworthy. Almost. But when you sit up on your knees at the edge and give him those expectant eyes, he imagines what it would be like to rid the town of the eleven other hungry beasts who could have ended up outside your door. So that they may never get a breath of you.

That they may never touch what’s his.

He approaches with caution—slowly, toeing off his boots in the process, fighting every urge to pounce. Droplets begin to roll down your temples, and he thinks you’re the most beautiful like this; wild eyes, a little frenzied. Awaiting some treat like a starved puppy who's already forgotten how to chew, how to swallow. He will remedy this. He’ll feed you, satiate you.

You’re an antsy little thing now, nearly bouncing up and down, toes curling and uncurling beneath you. And as soon as his shins meet the bed frame, you’re rising on your knees, nearly his height now. You study one another and the heat between you, the uneven breath and the palpable compulsion to touch. His brows rise on his forehead, surprise, when you reach out first. Shaky, dainty hands coming to rest upon his shoulders that glow under your willing gesture.

He can’t help himself; his hands splay over your ribcage, curving around your lungs, and yanking your chest against his. You yelp out, but the tiny grin that follows on your lips and the way you wind your arms around his neck flash a million green lights. He can hardly keep up, and he realizes now he’s the one panting; his fingers bruise into your skin, and his tongue seems to swell three sizes with need, starvation.

And he hesitates, because if he proceeds, he’ll finally know the sensation of kissing you. He’ll have a taste of you. He’ll understand what it means to have your body pressed against his, and how the scent of him will change, saturated by pieces of you.

But it’s you and your willingness to be so kind, so undeniably what you are, that breaks him from the mold he’s cast. You scratch him gently just below his ear to get his attention, and his worried eyes find yours—a pure contradiction, only certainty and peace to be found.

It’s alright. She’s ready for you.

This voice is different, warped. A mixture of two. He’s not sure if he hears it from him, or you.

He doesn’t care.

His lean into the kiss is measured, but it’s not long before it descends into madness. You’re wound and fiery against him, clawing at the nape of his neck, baring tongue and teeth. He’s willing, eager to keep up, bending you at the small of the back and crowding over you. Licking you open and shoving his tongue between your lips, until the sharp sounds of saliva echo through the room and his palate is coated in sweetness.

He loses himself a bit, winding a hand up your back until it’s latching around tendrils of hair and pulling taut. You gasp, arching into him, and he growls at the opportunity of more of you, to taste all of you.

His lips clamber down your throat, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses in their wake. You’re mumbling something, indescribable under the mask of your flourishing heat, but the pliancy of your body is all he needs to make way for instinct.

When he reaches the base, the tip of his nose traces your clavicle, sniffing like a mad dog. He continues up the curve of your neck until he finds the rough little patch behind your ear. Here, he inhales deep, audibly; your scent is most potent here and it clouds his judgment. His tongue juts out from his lips, salivating, searing across the gland and sealing his invasion with a gentle kiss, and oh, you like that. He hears the strangled sound that rips through your throat, feels your sharp nails dig deeper into his skin and the weight of your body shuddering against him.

He yanks at the hem of your t-shirt. “Arms up.”

You heed his command, and he pulls the fabric over you, tossing it into oblivion.

He’s got you on your back, sprawled amongst the nest of your things and his, in no time. He sinks to his knees, huffing at the stiffness of them. He bullies himself between your shaking thighs and drags his paws across your torso. He cups both of your tits in an unforgiving grasp, heaving himself forward and suctioning his lips around one. You howl and pant, pain and pleasure, weaving fingers through his locks of hair and tugging just as hard as he sucks. He switches to the other, leaving welts behind, memories of his ardor.

He wants them to linger. Knowing that he can’t mark you—won’t, not while you’re like this—in the way he longs to. A greedy act of ownership he hopes will ward off the others until he can map out this newfound territory.

Your thighs suffocate his hips, radiating warmth. He feels the little gyrations of your hips, seeking friction, and he can’t find it in himself to deny you any longer. He licks a trail down your sternum, the tangy taste of fever, peppering kisses over your belly. His fingers curl over the waistband of your shorts, taking two fistfuls, and he rips them in two. Joel doesn’t think you’ve even noticed the destruction, already pawing needy hands across his shoulders to guide him where you need him most.

Your legs part instantly, willingly, and his mouth drops open at the sight. He’s suddenly reminded of his own struggle, his cock seeming to swell another size in his jeans at the sight of your bare, swollen cunt. Creamy liquid coats your wet skin, pearly clit swollen and wanting. He rests a cheek upon your inner thigh, latches his hands around the outer to keep you steady, and admires. Lets his eyes fall shut and leans in, burying his nose in the soft curls on your mound. He inhales long and groans; the earthy musk, the inviting sweetness.

“God, look at this pretty fuckin’ hole.” He starts blathering aloud, but you smolder under his praise. Bucking your hips and grabbing at all the bits of him you can find. “This all for me, Omega?”

Yes, yes, yes, you pant, speaking with your body and your mouth, nodding so frantically. He enjoys the way your cunt flutters around nothing, each little pulse oozing another drop of sweet slick, coaxing him in.

He wets his lips, takes another whiff of you. He’s certain he’ll lose his mind if he doesn’t taste you, so he does. Flattens his tongue against your impatient pussy, and watches as you all but combust when he suckles up the nectar seeping out, all for him.

It’s more heavenly, more euphoric than he could’ve imagined. The stain of you against his tongue, ambrosia, a remedy for all ailments. He laps into you, dehydrated and desperate for every drop, smearing his tongue all over your cunt, your mound, your thighs. A feast for the taking.

You wail above him when his lips latch onto your clit, and heavy hands force your thighs back against the mattress—he needs you spread, and still. Needs you to understand the severity of this famine he’s experienced for so long; maybe, as long as he’s existed. You yank at his hair and your heels dig into his back, pushing and pulling all at once, and when he finally comes up for air, he’s feeding you his fingers. Catches your eyes and the way they grow when he sinks two, thick digits inside of you, groaning at the squeeze of your plush walls, ripe and ready for him.

“Gonna open you up for me, darlin’,” he rasps, lips and cheeks and chin gleaming with you. You hastily prop yourself up on your elbows, getting a view of the way he learns you. Moonlight glows across sheen skin, angelic.

“B-but Joel—” you whine, but he silences you with a thrust of his fingers, curving them up, up, up, and beaming when your legs jerk and your eyes roll back. He taps his fingertips against the spongy little spot he’s discovered.

“Hush, now,” he bites, but his taunting fingers promise a better outcome than his tone. Your head has already fallen back into the pillows, hands mindlessly grabbing and twisting the sheets around you. “M’gonna open you up, get you nice and ready to take me.” He starts his steady pace then, gradually pulling his fingers back and rocking them forward, maintaining the hook, searching for the sweet little spot that makes you cry out every time he bumps it. “You’re gonna be patient, let me make it all better, yeah?”

“Yes, Alpha. Yes, yes.”

He’d be lying if he said he doesn’t enjoy this descent into submission. How the further you slip away from him, the further he is from himself. Two parts of a whole lost to what nature made them, somehow, finding one another to latch onto.

He leans into it. Embraces it. He needs to make this last. Take advantage of all that it is, fearing it may be the first and only time he’ll be lucky enough to have it.

A heavy hand, his free one, presses against your lower belly. He can feel the drag of his fingers inside of you, just below his palm, sending his blood to a boil. Sweat graces his own brow; these are shared symptoms, that of your fever and his rut. Cosmic, burning from the inside out, like stars. Everything he is, created for you.

He can feel the wave, the buildup of pressure in your gut that makes his own ache. Feels the wet tip of his cock in his jeans when you start to pant his name, when a flimsy hand reaches for the flannel you tucked away so neatly, and yanks it toward your face. Smothering yourself with it, shoving your nose to his scent.

“Alpha—nghh!”

“C’mon, baby. C’mon,” he chants; a mantra. Presses harder onto your burning belly, extends his thumb to circle over your throbbing clit in time with his flexing wrist.

Your body seizes, soft, full breasts rising and falling as you desperately gulp the air. Your poor legs tremble so hard, you can’t keep them upright anymore without his help, so they drape over his shoulders. Squeeze them tight, claws nearly drawing blood against his scalp, and your pussy sucks him into the knuckle. Grips on like a vice before the wave crashes, and you’re gushing around his fingers. Crying out ecstasy, soaking his chin, his chest, your limp legs.

“Fuuuck,” he’s growling, in awe of the little spurts of cum that keep flowing out of you with each measured jingle of his digits. He wants to see how much he can drain you before he removes them, how much pretty, perfect, omega slick you’ll make for him, every drop an homage to your yearning for what he’s preparing to give you. The thing that swells, and aches, and burns at the base of his cock, and he can’t help but rub it up against the side of the mattress, desperately seeking some of his own relief.

You’ve lost yourself entirely now, he knows this. The orgasm he’s granted you sets your full heat into motion, and you’ll require more. Can sense it in the haze of your eyes, the delirious babbling of his name mingled with Alpha, Alpha, please. Tears coating your cheeks, an emptiness in the pit of you only he can fill.

But one taste isn’t enough, and he’s greedy. Greedy, greedy alpha of a man, who needs more. Can’t help it as he watches the liquid pour from around his fingers, so he unsheathes them, quickly replacing them with his open mouth again to drink the goodness right out of you. A fountain of excellence he’s certain he’ll never tire of.

He must be lost in this, the incessant need to quench his thirst, for some time. Because you start to whine and thrash below him, strings of pleas and sorrow alike. Pulling at his t-shirt, trying to tear it from him at this awkward angle. Telling him over and over that it hurts, Alpha, it hurts—and that just won’t do.

He quickly replaces your wandering fingers, tugging his shirt up and off of him and retreating to his feet to battle with his belt buckle. You jolt up at this, suddenly alert, perching at the edge of the mattress, wet hair sticking to your face, eyes taking a curious path down bare skin.

There’s a momentary wave of self-consciousness; he can’t remember the last time a woman saw him naked, let alone after the safety and comfort that Jackson provided.

He’s aged. Gained a few pounds in his belly, muscles bulky and lined with fat instead of the lean mass they once were. But then, you place your palms on his chest. Flutter your eyes up at him as you glide your hands slowly over his torso, and make sure he’s watching when you lean forward and press a chaste kiss to his sternum. His eyes go dark, his insecurity silenced.

“Wanna taste it, Alpha,” you demand, voice breaking at the edges. Sounding simultaneously foreign and never more like yourself. Shaky fingers reach down, cupping him through his boxers, making his dick jump, and he sucks the air through his teeth. “Can I taste it, please?”

He grins down at you, because yeah, you’re good. So good. So polite. Just like he knew you would be. Good, kind, generous little omega, too much so for her own good. You rake at his bare chest, start to palm him slowly, batting dangerous eyes up at him. So tempting. He reaches down, takes your chin between his fingers, and pets your bottom lip with his thumb. Hoping to soothe away disappointment. Because as much as he wants to be selfish, he needs to be inside of you.

“No time for that now, sweet baby. Not this time. Wanna give it to you somewhere else.” He drops his hand, splaying his fingers low over your abdomen. “Right in here, huh? Isn’t that what you want?”

Oh, yes. Yes, it is. You nod up at him, frantic, mouth hung open and drool spilling out the sides. Ravenous thing you are, just as hungry as he.

“C’mere. Let me help you.”

He’s got you by the hips, lowering you properly back against the pillows. He shuffles out of his boxers, and you watch him, dazed; your fingers in your mouth, chewing on them. Knees up to your chest, thighs rubbing back and forth, slipping so easily with all the pretty slick he’s pulled out of you.

Vulnerable little creature you are, you welcome him into your nest. Pull your fingers out from your teeth and extend them towards him, and spread your legs for him to settle his mass between. And when he does, there’s a shared sounding of pleasure. He sits back on his heels, guiding the weight of his heavy cock over your cunt, and fuck, if you aren’t just perfect like this.

Your body burns, a fire he must extinguish. He leans forward, exasperating you a bit when he drapes his weight over you, caging you in with elbows on either side of your head. His knees still cradle your ass, and he uses the mounted leverage to grind his cock against you. He huffs, his knot blazing, painful and stiff, and his gut is on fire. You’re so warm, so wet, and he slips so easily between you. He can’t help but growl out when you begin to meet his thirst with needy rocks of your own.

Your eyes droop shut, hands seeking purchase on his shoulders, and he uses his to cradle each side of your scalp. He presses his forehead to yours, captures your parted lips in a searing kiss.

“You’re gonna give me another one,” he mumbles, drawing back from you, reaching for his stiff cock and gripping it tight. His eyes drop to where you’re nearly connected, so close. You glisten along his shaft, and he uses it to rub the angry tip of him back and forth over your folds, parted petals that threaten to suck him in each time he catches on the opening. He taps it on your tender clit; you quiver and clench, wailing out frustration.

“N-no please—please,” you beg, eyes brimming with tears again. You slide your hands underneath his arms, digging your nails under his shoulder blades. “Please put it inside me, Alpha. Please, please.”

“You can do it, baby.”

“I can’t, please. I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

And you do. You chase the high vigorously. The jerks of your hips follow him, taking great precision in the way he slides his shaft up and down your swollen little seam, paying special attention to your clit. He can feel the way it jumps and throbs, all the juices flowing out of you dowsing over him, dripping down onto his knot.

He can’t look away, an obscenely beautiful sight. And the next time you quiver, clench around nothing, and call out his name, he just can’t help himself.

He slips inside of you with one, tenacious thrust. Met with no resistance, only warmth and fullness. Your entire body goes rigid, eyes bulged and lips hung open in surprise, before relaxing entirely. You melt into him, the fury of your need thawing with his gift, and you sigh a beautiful sound of reprieve. Vanilla melds with leather, interwoven, and he knows he’s ruined you for any others.

And he. He’s sweating, and panting, and the shudder won’t leave his spine. He’s never felt anything quite like it, the flutter of a fertile omega’s cunt around his cock. He was dreaming before, and now he’s awake. Startled by all that is perfectly right.

“That’s it, sweetheart. That’s it.” He rolls his hips once, the tip of him bruising your cervix, and you sigh his name. “Promised I’d make it all better, yeah?”

You use the leverage of his shoulders to crane your neck up, pressing your forehead to his. Your thighs straddle his ribcage, clinging to him, needy little pet that you are.

“S-so full, Alpha. It’s so big.”

“I know, baby. I know,” he coos. “But look.” He parts with a fleeting kiss to your chin, sitting back on his heels and dropping his gaze to where you’re connected. A thick ring of cream sits above his knot, and it pulses at the sight. “Look how well she’s taking me.”

You shakily bring yourself to your elbows, peering with drunken eyes and O-shaped lips. Your brows knit at the center of your forehead, and the precious, fucked-out look you cast up is enough to send him into motion.

He grunts, wrapping his hands around your hips and yanking your bum up and onto his thighs. His pace is slow but deep, focused on kissing your womb with every thrust. Now that he’s inside of you, he can focus on nothing but the result. How imperative it’s become that he fills you. Satiate the ache by pumping you with his seed. He bares his teeth, images of his spend dripping out of you flashing before his eyes. He needs it. Chases it with fury, a conquest. But he won’t let it go to waste. No, he needs to knot you. Be certain that every drop of it touches your womb. How it would feel to have you latched to him, the prospect of its ramifications—a swollen belly, a piece of you carrying a part of him—sounding nothing but appealing.

“JoelJoelJoel.” You’re repeating his name like a prayer, looking at him with such devotion.

He’s picked up his pace, instinctive. Hard enough now that your flimsy mattress springs squeak, and the headboard thumps against the wall. You’ve fallen back into your pillows, your hands coming up to knead and pull at your breasts, and fuck, if it doesn’t gratify him to see you lean into the pleasure.

He knows you're close when the tears at your waterline begin to stream down your cheeks. He scoots you further up his thighs, places a heavy hand back on your belly, and sure enough, on his next thrust, he can feel the bulbous tip of his cock through the skin. He grits his teeth, and he knows you must feel it too because you gasp as if he’s committed some sort of crime, shock and disbelief.

“Feel you—haa—in-in my stomach, Alpha.”

“That’s right, baby,” he grunts. “In your fuckin’ guts. Just where you needed me.”

His thumb drops to your clit, circles it with the rhythm of his thrusts, and makes you sing. There isn’t, and he’s sure there never will be, anything like the way you feverishly clench around him. Actively trying to suck him in, the steady flow of tears and cum, your incoherent babbles, beyond your control. He needs you closer, he needs to saturate you with every part of him.

He rolls onto his back, scooping you into his chest and dragging you along with him. Gets you good and propped on his bent legs before he drives up into you. You collapse onto his chest, desperate hands clinging to his pecs. You burrow your nose into his neck, and he nearly bursts at the seams when you tease your teeth across his beating gland.

“One more,” he seethes, bouncing you up and down with a great force; you needn’t even help him. He takes palm-fulls of your ass, secures the reins. Your hips will bruise by morning, but he doesn’t care. It’s worth the desperation in the way you cling to him, call to him. “Give me one more, Omega, and I promise I’ll give you what you need.”

You wail out, half protest, half pledge, and you’re actively clamping down on him. Working your tight cunt over his shaft, milking him closer and close to the shining edge, and he feels his belly begin to boil. His head pounds and his gland aches, and as soon as you release again, unable to curb yourself from the pleasure he vows, the voice worms its way back into his ear. Chanting now, now, now.

He spills into you with a mighty roar, stuffing his knot up inside of you as soon as it expands. He digs his teeth into your shoulder, pushes your hips further, and further down, nowhere else to go, but he has to be sure he’s filled you tight. That he can keep you here, locked onto him for as long as it takes to eradicate the delirium, as many times as you need him to fill your fertile little womb.

And you come again, all from just this. Tight, soft, and bruised, you clamp around his knot as if you’re worried you’ll lose it. And he squeezes his eyes shut at the overstimulation, bites on his tongue to curb the pain, and lets it flourish in glorious pleasure. His cock releases another string of cum, and Joel groans.

You’re hardly lucid on his chest, trembling, breathing heavily. One of your hands wraps around his sticky shoulder, clutching into his skin, trying to steady yourself. He works carefully to soothe you, to nurture the heavy come down, and avoid a dangerous drop. He scoots himself up the mattress, taking you with him until you’re both comfortably propped against the headboard; there’s no telling how long you’ll be united like this, but he has no intention of rushing it. He drags his large palms over the length of your spine, litters kisses along your hairline, and you both share a whining sound each time he stiffens and spurts inside of you. He allows his eyes to shut, focusing on steadying his breath, the sound of your beating heart.

Eventually, your body settles. You start to breathe evenly again, grow limp, purring little sounds of contentment. He lifts a hand to push away the hair that sticks to your cheeks, and you reach for it, latching your bony fingers around his wrist. You nuzzle your nose into his palm and wrap your lips around two of his fingers. He lets you suck on them like this for a while, humming, the salty taste of him seeming to quiet your nervous system and ease you back into a state of equilibrium.

There will be consequences for what’s transpired here. The post-euphoric clarity lays his transgressions bare and forces him to examine them. He feels, quite regrettably, the return of war. That between himself and his nature, though here and now, they are far more intertwined than they’ve ever been.

He has a decision to make, one that months, days, hours ago seemed so clear. That he will not give way for the monstrosity he harbors, if only to save you from a lifetime of horror and regret.

But the hours, minutes, seconds have passed, and they dwindle to this moment where he realizes, almost jarringly, how wrong he may have been. That the great fight against what nature bestowed him retreats within your stronghold. The worry is silenced, the weight lifted, the burden removed. He isn’t a soldier, but a man.

Only a man. So simple, and so freeing.

“Stay with me?” you mumble as if you can read his mind, letting his fingers slip from your lips, and already drifting to a place somewhere deep between sleep and wake. It’s a single question worth a million, holding the weight of your existence, the entire world.

He knows he shouldn’t. He knows that if he stays, no amount of self-control will prevent him from indulging your needs over and over again. He knows how brittle his distaste is—was, a façade—and how quickly he will devote himself to you.

You’re all he would require to live and breathe.

Most terrifying, he knows the primal urge will only continue to spread. And for some purpose far beyond him, while he’s coated in your scent and slick and the haven of your arms, he won’t be able to find a reason to stop himself from sinking his teeth into that sweet spot upon your neck.

He doesn’t deserve your forgiveness, your kindness, you. You’re a chance at redemption, something he is certain he relinquished decades ago. You’re an opportunity, an outlet to release his grief, his anger, his hatred for this world and his place in it, and turn it into devotion, protection.

He doesn’t deserve it.

But the way you look at him now, head nuzzled against his chest, pupil-blown eyes the picture of vulnerability, it satisfies the beast. Sets every nerve ending on fire. Tugs him forward frighteningly taut, unable to recoil.

You look at him like you need him.

And he needs to be needed. It’s all he’s ever wanted.

“Alright,” he whispers. “I’ll stay.”

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obsessivevoidkitten · 2 months ago

Text

The Adoring Fan

Kinktober Day 7: Worshipped

Human Male Yandere x Gender Neutral Vampire Reader

CW: Noncon, stalking, kidnapping, religious symbols, reader worshipped, vampirism, blood consumption, general yandere behavior

Word Count: 840

(Hope you enjoy this short fic. At least it's longer than a drabble.)

You were a high-ranking member of the Warrior's Guild. You were pretty renowned and had saved many people from all manner of beasts and disasters.

You weren't as bulky and brutish as most of the members, but you were just as strong and agile as the best of them.

This was because you were a vampire. Though no one actually knew that.

No one but the young man you had saved a few years back from a burning building. His silver crucifix necklace had touched your skin and burned you, forcing you to use your vampiric form. Pointy ears, fangs, dark eyes.

The young man, Nael, had promised to keep your secret. You had saved him after all. To him, your vampiric form was perfection.

But the more he thought about it, the more inspired by you he had become. He also became increasingly worried that someone would find your secret and hurt you. Your renown had gradually grown until you were a famous hero. He reasoned that the more eyes that were on you, the more likely it would be for someone to discover your secret.

His home and livelihood as a farmer had turned to cinders. It made it easy for him to leave his life behind.

Nael researched vampires, lived with monks for a while, and learned how to fight.

Then he set about finding you. It wasn't hard to find rumors and tales of your exploits, but you never stayed in the same place very long.

He decided to join the guild to make finding you easier. It did. It didn't take long for you to come to the main guil hall and pick up some assignments from the board.

Then he just had to wait on the path to your next job and ambush you.

Of course, your keen predatory senses could sniff out a human in hiding easily. Even hear their heartbeat.

Nael was prepared.

He used the most minor magic, available to all humans who were dedicated enough to learn, and silenced himself completely. He used sanctified dirt from hallowed ground to hide his natural smell.

As you passed him, he stuck you with an arrow that had been annointed in holy water. It wasn't lethal but rather acted as a paralytic sleeping agent.

You woke up in a cabin far from civilization that Nael had painstakingly prepared for you.

"Ah, you're awake!"

You were still paralyzed and could only grunt in anger and confusion. Had you been discovered? Was this an assassin? Why hadn't they disposed of you already? Were they hoping for information first? For you to turn them? Were they planning to blackmail you into doing something?

Your frantic racing thoughts were cut off by a greedy kiss and shaky hands rubbing up and down your thighs and then your sides.

You growled both in surprise and to show you did not approve.

"Shhhh, it's okay. You're safe now! You saved me years ago, and now I'm saving you!"

He stared into your eyes in sheer reverence before trailing kisses down your body.

"You m-must have been so scared that you'd be d-discovered! Your selfless nature would have g-gotten you hurt eventually… I'm s-saving you from yourself."

His voice was a comforting coo, and he pressed gentle kisses all over your face. You grunted, but he ignored it.

"I l-love you so much! I'll t-take care of all your needs, okay?"

He said this as he rubbed his hand between your legs. You made a strangled, high-pitched noise that sounded somewhat like a yelp.

"Blood, sex, safety. I-I'll take care of it all."

He pulled your clothing off and used his mouth between your legs until you climaxed, then he licked you clean of your fluids. After that he lubed you up and slid into your hole, gently fucking into you as he blushed deeply.

"I know your kind have a huge sexual appetite! I-I'll make sure to sate it~"

Nael kissed you constantly during the whole ordeal, moaning your name as he filled you deeply with the physical manifestation of his unbridled love.

When the holy water wore off, you jumped up and headed for the door. You found yourself sluggish and unable to overpower the amorous human.

"Get away from me, you psycho!"

He pulled you back into bed with him and held you close.

"I-I'm not a psycho… I just want w-what's best for you. You'll s-see soon. Your heroics exposed you, o-others would have found out eventually! Do you want to see the shrine I made for you??"

And you did see. The entire forest had been meticulously blessed and consecrated, and a large fence made from holy silver alloy enclosed the entirety of the land around the cabin.

That combined with the fact that Nael put a tiny dose of holy water in the blood he fed you resulted in you being majorly weakened and almost constantly fatigued.

There was no other choice but to let Nael tend to you in whatever manner he chose.

#yandere x reader #gender neutral reader #yandere boyfriend #male yandere #yandere scenario #yandere imagine #yandere fic #Human yandere x monster reader #My OCs #My OC Nael #kinktober #kinktober 2024

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etheries1015 · 7 months ago

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He walks in on you touching yourself... (18+ Minors DNI)

General warnings: Gender-neutral reader. Can be read as established or non-established relationship, completely up to whatever your cup of tea is... (Reader for Azul and the tweels is pretty confident and daring. be warned.) Also not proof read.

TW: Touching himself while watching you masturbate, 'unbeknownst' to you. Being caught, mentions of heat.

Featuring: Lilia (separate) , Azul (separate), and the tweels (together...might be OOC. I don't write for them often wahhhh)

Lilia

It was obvious by the sounds of wetness and low whines ringing through the hall what was conspiring in your bedroom. Lilia had dropped by simply to play some games or to say hello, but was pleasantly greeted by the glorious sight before him after making his way down the hall towards your sleeping chambers. With the door cracked slightly, the red-eyed fae had clear few of your naked body sprawled on your bed, hands working at your groin with such vigor and excitement. Fluids ran down your thighs and a layer of sweat clearly coating your flushed body, telling him you have been at this for quite some time. With a raised eyebrow and a smirk quirking on the side of his lips, he could feel his erection pressing against the cloth of his pants practically begging to be freed.

He had little shame when it came to things of pleasure, he himself thoroughly enjoyed indulging in such activities when time permitted. It's a normal part of life, and although he felt mildly guilty for thinking such things when you were touching yourself unaware of his gaze...all reason left his mind the moment your lips uttered his name in a moan that would have been barely audible for a normal human to hear. His eyes open in surprise with his smirk turning into a dark grin, fangs poking out as he bit his lip and began to slowly unzip his trousers.

Freeing himself from his confines, he watched your fingers eagerly working themselves in your hole and the other teasing the outer parts of your body. He thought to himself how much he wanted to be inside you as his cock twitched, yet also wondering how he could just stand there and watch you get off, knowing it was his image in your mind while you so eagerly found your release. Would he ruin the mood if he opened the door and presented himself at that moment? Would you be embarrassed and no longer in the mood? He slowly began using a hand to pump his cock while he watched you through the crack of the door, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips and lustful eyes watching earnestly as you switch positions. You were so...thorough in the way you touched yourself, Lilia almost found himself envious at your own hands stroking attentively to your sensitive spots rather than him.

The second time you moaned his name, he broke in his resolve of keeping his endeavor behind your door a secret falter rather quickly. Removing his hand from his throbbing and flushed cock and lazily slipping his boxers back over his erection, Lilia allowed his presence to be heard as he creaked the door open. Hearing your movements stop suddenly and a small (and rather adorable) gasp escape your lips, the fae watched as you were quick to cover up with the sheets and face flushed a deep scarlet that only enhanced his desire to ruin you further.

"Now now~" Lilia purred, "You were so vocal before, moaning my name like an animal in heat..." He crawled onto the bed, leaning towards you as your gaze so obviously flickered from his piercing eyes to the tent in his boxers, taking note of his unzipped pants and wet spot that soaked through the cloth. His hand quickly grabbed your cheeks and lifted your gaze to his, lips crashing against yours.

"How about you moan for me again, my precious bat? Hmm? I wonder just how loud I could get you the mewl when rather than your fingers, it's my cock buried deep inside you..."

Azul

Azul had noticed something was awry when you weren't there to greet him immediately at the entrance of Ramshackle. The door had been unlocked, almost as if inviting him right in without a worry in the world. He often scolded you for such acts, being rather wary of intruders himself and understanding your disposition of being the sole human in the dorm, he was certain to give you a lecture as he often had.

Walking deeper into the dorm attempting to find you, he could smell something sweet and alluring, something that slowly yet almost simultaneously left his cheeks flushing a slight tint of pink and skin moist with heat at the touch. It was almost a sickening sweet smell- something that he was familiar with only by the definitions of the textbooks.

Heat. Someone was in heat, he could feel it affecting him as such. He took a gulp as his instincts left him wandering mindlessly to the source, hearing the feeble pants of a familiar voice and the sound of wet and sticky skin filling the air as he came closer to the source of the sickeningly sweet scent. Azul began trembling as if he were entering some sort of forbidden den in which he should not be entering. He noticed at the end of the hall a door open, wider than one may think should be. Curious and trembling with anticipation, the merman peaked his head through the rather wide crack of the door, stumbling upon a rather...interesting scene.

He couldn't help but let out an audible gasp, eyes widening before slapping a hand over his mouth and looking away. He pressed his back against the wall, looking down at the clear erection that poked at the cloth of his dress pants. It hurt almost, enough that Azul found himself almost unable to move with the itching need to unzip his pants and release himself of this burning sensation immediately. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see what he had just witnessed...the beloved prefect, someone who was well respected and known around the campus, legs wide on top of the blankets for anyone to see as your fingers buried deep inside your hole with your other hand twisting your hardened nipple. Your hair was a sweaty tangled mess, mouth open lips glistening with drool and lust.

Azul was not used to such erotic behaviors being so close and in eyeshot of him, much less affecting him the way you seemed to be. He couldn't help but guiltily open his eyes and glance again, watching through the cracked door and rubbing his legs uncomfortably. He let out a deep sigh as his hands moved with a mind of their own, dipping the inside of his pants and boxers in an attempt to stroke himself for some sort of release of the discomfort his hardened cock had caused. He watched you with his mouth ajar, his heart pounding so loud he almost feared you would hear it. Your moans began to become louder, almost as if...on purpose. Azul continued to rub his shaft with hesitant and trembling hands, before a moment passed and it seemed...like you two had made eye contact.

It was almost a split second, where he felt as if your gaze had locked onto his through the door. Yet you turned your attention back to your naked body, a sly smile crawling onto your lips. That split second cause his heart to drop straight into the pit of his stomach with guilt, yet at the same time such risk left his body trembling as he used one hand to muffle a high pitched whine that escaped his lips as he shamefully finished in his pants almost as quickly as he had begun. With legs that were shaking and a heart beating so rapid he felt it would pop out of his chest at any second, the merman pursed his lips and wiped his brow, finally finding the courage to use his legs to make a hasty exit...you were quick to interrupt his escape.

"Awwee...did you cum already, Azul?" He froze as you called his name, Azul letting out a yelp of surprise and hung his head low in almost shame.

"No need to be shy," You called out, "Come here. Let your prefect take care of our pretty little octopus..."

Jade + Floyd

You were a brazen soul, something that both Jade and Floyd would admire. Often times your brave endeavors left them astonished and intrigued all the same. The three of you were doing your weekly movie night, but the two could already tell something was different in your actions. The way you would rub your legs together and the sweet scent wafting off of your figure left the two side-eyeing each other with knowing intent. The movie was the last thing on your mind, for under the sheets the warmth that was leaving your bottom half aching with desire left your hands wandering beneath the blankets almost unable to hold back your urges.

"Are you alright?" Jade inquired, watching your focused face flush as you looked up at him with surprise at the question. He looked down at you almost knowingly, his typical smile leaving you unaware of the thoughts that were behind those eyes. You gave him a slight smile and a nod of your head, burying yourself deeper in the sheets and halting your hands from going beneath the cloth of your pants like you so desperately wanted to. A few moments of the movie going on, and you were vividly aware of where each of the twins were on both sides of you.

Floyd was brazenly wrapping an arm from behind your shoulders, while Jade sat with one of your legs intertwining with yours beneath the blanket. You found yourself throbbing more intensely below the pile of warm blankets, the heat becoming far more unbearable as your hands began to snake underneath the blankets and into your pants with no self-control and little regard for the two attractive men who were accompanying you. You pursed your lips and inched your fingers toward your groin, a needy sigh escaping your trembling lips as you began to slowly gratify yourself careful not to be loud or obvious. You couldn't help it, you were so desperately seeking release, and patience wasn't always one of your strong suits.

This went on for a mere minute before a hand landed on top of yours through the mountain of cloth that separated your skin from his hand, Jades face peering closer to yours with eyes glinting with mischief as his nose pressed against yours. "You're rather distracted," Jade hummed, eyes closing as he disregarded the movie that was still playing, "If I remove these blankets, what do you think we will see? Hmm? Something naughty?" you gave a shy nod in response, almost as if testing them to see if their blatant words would become materialized in something more. He glanced up to his brother, Floyd who had a wide toothy grin and a tilt of his head. He moved forward to take a whiff of you, his own cheeks becoming flushed a deep scarlet color while pulling you closer to his side.

"little Shrimpy is in heeatt..." Floyd sang, "I didn't know humans can get that, too. But it's sweet, real sweet," He purred. Jade moved away from you, inching the blanket off of your body to reveal yourself with legs held together and hands taken away from pleasuring your sensitive spot. At the same time, You could hear the unzipping of pants as they both released themselves from their pants, you watched in excitement and lustful eyes as the eels began doing as you had done, shamelessly and brazenly touching themselves with little regard for the place and company they were in. The twins encouraged you by each using a hand to grab a knee and spread your legs open, showing your arousal as your own hands twitched with anticipation and neediness. Shy at the whole endeavor, you found yourself hesitating despite their eagerness.

"Don't get shy now," Jade said, beginning to stroke himself and urging you to do the same.

"Yeah, You started this," Floyd pointed out, "let's have fun together...isn't that the whole point?"

"You must be trying so hard to hold back, aren't you? Let it all go...you're good at surprising us, and were so desperate a mere moment ago.... So go on, give us a show."

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ohnoitstbskyen · 2 months ago

Note

I think you’ve said it before, but what are your sexuality headcanons for the Straw Hats?

Luffy is aroace, obviously, that's not so much a headcanon as hard actual canon. Like, even calling it "subtext" is giving it too much credit for subtlety.

Nami is lesbian as hell, and that's also basically canon, literally nobody can tell me otherwise. Jimbei is pansexual but demiromantic at best, his first love is the sea, and Franky is the most bisexual man who has ever walked the earth. If he ever meets someone more bi than him, he will self-engineer upgrades until he takes back the top spot.

Zoro is gray ace, I think, and Brooke is ace now but was probably some flavor of highly fluid queer, back when he still had fluids to be queer with. Chopper hasn't quite gotten to the point of exploring his identity yet, and I think he'll be a late bloomer in that regard. No idea where he'll fall.

I'm fairly convinced that Sanji is either a lesbian who needs to do some Gender about it, or a gay man who is not so much closeted as he is lost in a very specific fantasy of manhood where obsessing over beautiful women who he will never actually desire gives him access to masculinity untainted by, and powerfully in defiance of, the patriarchal example set for him by his father and brothers. Either way, he and Zoro are life partners, platonic or otherwise.

Usopp is like a kinsey 1, while Robin is straight, but in the gayest available way.

also I am a Frobin truther

#tb answers #aight-griffin #one piece

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notyourhetloki · 4 months ago

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sharing is caring pt II (Logan x Reader x Wade)

Reader: (gender neutral)

/NSFW Logan x Reader x Wade/

A/N: This is really short and is completely plotless so enjoy the smut! This is a sequel to this fic if you're interested (it will make much more sense if you read the first part). Requests are open for these two! S2

Tags: afab reader (reader has a vagina), no gendered terms were used, oral sex (reader! receiving), fingering, dirty talk, boys kissing (hihihi).

Word Count: 810

—

After you washed your face in the cold water of the bathroom sink, Logan called you to join them again... but this time in his bedroom.

"You did such a good job, sugar... think you deserve a reward, hm?" He said while Wade smirked beside him. “Lay on the bed for us.”

You obeyed immediately, fantasizing about what they would do. The predatory way they looked down at you, the way Wade licked his lips and Logan showed his teeth… it only turned you on even more.

Logan pulled you by the thighs so your legs were at the edge of the bed, and then carefully took your shorts and underwear off. His rough hands smoothed the skin of your hips, thighs, calves… he took his time to savor the moment, breathing heavily through his nose.

“Open your legs for me, bunny.” He demanded. You shyly complied, opening your thighs slowly and exposing your dripping sex. You could see a big sly smile forming on Logan’s face, while Wade just kept talking. “Hell yeah… look at you.”

You blushed heavily as both men kneeled in front of your open legs. Wade caressed your inner thigh as Logan kissed dangerously close to your most sensitive spot. He looked at Wade and cockily spoke. “Watch and learn, pal.”

Before Wade could respond, Logan buried his face in your cunt, licking and kissing and sucking all the right places. You moaned loudly, whining at every move of his lips and tongue.

He groaned from pleasure and the vibrations only served to stimulate you even further. The grip he had on your legs almost hurt but in a good way, sending electricity through your body.

“Not that I don’t like to watch, peanut, but… kinda wish I-“ Logan once again cut Wade off by grabbing his hand and bringing his fingers into your entrance. “You know what to do.” Logan said between kisses.

“Ohh…” Wade realized as he slowly put his two digits inside you, curling them at the end.

You bucked your hips and squirmed at the sensation. Logan’s lips sucked on your clit as Wade fingered you… it felt heavenly.

“Oh wow, look at that… you like his mouth on your pussy, hm? Like my fingers inside you?” Wade would taunt, continuing to speak obscenities as you struggled to keep quiet. “Your cunt will feel so good around our cocks, gorgeous. Can’t wait to see you bouncing on each one of us.”

“W-Wade! Hm, Logan! Ah…” You felt heat building up in your body until it finally exploded, your climax coming to its peak as you came with their names in your mouth. You trembled a little, breathing erratically and holding the sheets with closed fists.

Logan licked the mess you made, savoring your taste while Wade pulled his digits from you and also tasted them, making a “Hmm” sound as he did so.

They got up from their knees and looked at each other, Logan breaking the silence. "At least all that banter served a purpose in the end, huh."

"Hey! Someone had to do the dirty talk, ok? Also, your whole chin is covered in juices right now, just so you know." Wade responded.

"Why don't you just kiss already?" You suggested playfully, breaking a bit of the tension.

"We have! Indirectly, of course... just a few moments ago you were kissing us both so it means we already traded fluids by now."

Logan, on the other hand, didn't lose the opportunity to act. He grabbed Wade by the T-shirt he wore and connected their mouths with a gentleness almost unknown to him. Wade kept his eyes momentarily open because of the shock, but soon melted into the kiss as their tongues finally met.

They could taste each other and you all together at the same time, and Wade hummed in approval as Logan pulled him closer, closer...

You were giggling like an idiot, hand covering your mouth in surprise... that was the hottest thing you could've imagined.

When the kiss finally ended, Logan pulled back but only enough so he could speak into Wade's lips. "Is this direct enough for you?"

"Y-Yeah... I mean..." Wade stuttered, and if it wasn't for the scarred skin, you would definitely see he was actually blushing. "Maybe you could show me again? See if we can get even more direct, y'know?"

Logan scoffed and pushed him lightly on the chest, distancing from him. "Maybe another time, bub."

"Oh, come here, boys..." You called sweetly, and they slowly made their way by your sides on the bed. They got comfortable, and so did you... curling yourself with your back facing Logan, you kissed them goodnight before drifting away. Wade held your hands as Logan spooned you firmly, and it was then you knew... your life would definitely take a turn alongside the fantastic duo.

—

#wolverine x reader x deadpool #logan x reader x wade #logan howlett x reader #wade wilson x reader #deadpool x wolverine #deadpool and wolverine #wolverine x reader #deadpool x reader #marvel #fanfic #fanfiction #imagine #headcanon #self insert #y/n #gender neutral #deadpool #wolverine #notyourhetloki

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ja3hwa · 7 months ago

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♡ 𝟏:𝟑𝟒𝐚𝐦 | 𝐂.𝐉𝐇 ♡

In the words of @yourfatherlucifer , "I want Jongho to pin me against the bed, by the back of my neck, and hit it from the back"

【Synopsis】 : Don't piss off your jealous boyfriend.

『Word count』 : 420

-> Genre: Pwp. Smut

Pairing: Dom!Jongho x GN!Reader

[Warnings] : P*rn without plot. Spanking. Use of the word slut and whore. Degrading. Unprotected sex. Lots of bodily fluids, oils, and lube are mentioned. No detail or description of the readers anatomy or gender.

Network: @newworldnet

Masterlist | Navigation

It was just a joke, a simple small flirty joke. You didn’t mean any of it. But you had been craving for anything from your boyfriend even if it was pure jealousy and rage. Jongho had used his inhuman strength to throw you on the bed and rip every piece of clothing you had on. Pants, shirt, underwear… Everything was in shreds when he was done with you. With his hand firmly on the back of your neck, he pushed your face against the soft mattress and silk sheets. He hand rubbed your lubed-up ass before giving to a loud harsh whack. Your yelp echoed around the room, bouncing off the walls along with the sounds of wet skin slapping over and over again. You were both covered in oils, lube and body fluid. If one of the other men in the dorm were to walk in, they would have been mortified at the sheer pace of Jongho’s thrusts as he jackhammered into you.

“J-J-Jong..H-hoo arghhngg.” You screamed, tangling your fingers in the silk sheets, feeling yourself about to explode from how much pleasure was crackling down your spine with each snap of Jongho’s hips.

“Shut up slut. I’m busy.” The hand he had wrapped around the back of your neck suddenly loosened, letting you tilt your head enough to the side so you could catch a glimpse of your lover. The lube that covered you had soaked his thick thighs, making him glisten in the light.

"Fuck look at you, Angel. Spread out, panting like a bitch in heat. Flirting with my friends really got you going, huh?" He slapped your red ass, adding another handprint to the welted dents on you.

"No.. sir. Please. Only you can make me this like." Your knees gave out sliding completely onto your tummy. Jongho kept your legs spread, rubbing your thighs slowly before moving to your entrance. He pulled out to see your hole clench around nothing... pathetic.

"Who owns you?" He slapped your left thigh before rubbing over the skin.

"You sir!" You yelped tears creeping on the corners of your eyes.

"Who owns this pretty body?" He spanked your other thigh, leaning down to kiss your back between your shoulder blades. You shivered, feeling your tears roll down your puffy face.

"You, Sir." You cried, mind dizzy, and most shaking.

"Good." He sat completely up chuckling at the sight of you. All desperate. A mess just for him. He squeezed your ass, making you whimper out in pleasure and pain from the sore reddened, almost purple marks he's successfully left behind.

"Now a good baby and lift this ass back up. I'm not done fucking you yet."

—♡

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grapefives · 3 months ago

Text

did it or not ?

hoshina + gen oneshots! (separately) x gn!reader

arranged marriaged au! + hurt/cormfort + injuries + denial of feelings + platoon leader reader! + enemies to lovers (?)

warnings; it’s gender neutral reader but… lowkey lenient to male readers, but obviously only if you think hard jajaj, that’s all, also, change of work format! not proof read.

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ hoshina soshiro

— he wanted NOTHING to do with you! not even as entertainment to see what could become of you both, NADA

— it’s not that he would argue with you or anything, but he’d speak a little harsher when it comes to you

— constantly asks why did he have to be married when both of you were in the defense force and could die any day

— at least he acknowledges your hard work

— mina actually likes you for him, so she always tells him he should show you affection, to which he gags at.

“ah, hoshina, don’t you think l/n looks good like that? sweaty, covered in monster fluids, look at how badass l/n looks, took down so many monsters…”

“what, are you saying you want l/n to take my spot as vice captain? since your praising l/n so much.” hoshina asks darkly while placing his hands on his hips.

mina shakes her head, expression neutral, “no, of course not, but maybe you should give l/n a nice reward-“

“ugh!” he groans, immediately walking away from her. he knows her expression wouldn’t show much, but he knew her true feelings. she was probably laughing in her head, mentally patting her back for ticking him off.

it didn’t help that you had defeated so many monsters, a few more than him. he eyes you as you flick some monster grub off of your shoulder, looking around to step aside, away from the scene. he hated going back “home” with you, you took the longest showers.

“good job today,” your voice snaps him out of his thoughts, like he said, you took long showers, so he sometimes zones out waiting for you to get out. “i wish i knew how to use blades,” you comment.

he stares at you, fresh out of the shower. your cheeks have a rosy color, definitely from the warm shower you had taken. your eyes weren’t on him, but with the way you said that, it felt like you were looking directly at him. you don’t talk much to him either.

“for a platoon leader your skills are too inadequate,” he bites before going to the restroom. “train more and you’ll be better suited.”

— honestly, you wish he’d at least make fun of you or something, not nag or insult your honed skills.

— you two lived more like strangers that shared a room, little talk yet always around

one day, you two had to face a group of honju. it wasn’t something either of you couldn’t manage, but for some reason, hoshina was having a bit of a hard time. especially with the way you kept missing your shots.

“the heck is wrong with you?” he ask as he slices the honju’s joints.

“the heck is wrong with you? you keep cutting off limbs and letting them fall on me! makes me miss my shots!” you argue as you hop off a wall.

“if we don’t take this one down we can’t help out with the other ones!”

“well if you weren’t all up on the honju then i would’ve shot it down already!”

mind you, you two were still honing your new, growing skills. hoshina was recently risen to vice captain and you as platoon leader.

“and i can’t slice it down because you keep shooting at the wrong areas!”

in the end, the honju got a good hit in you and him. minor injuries of course, but the next day you were sent off in a mission where plenty of platoon leaders were called to assist. hoshina was recently getting inside the house when you trudge up to him, looking absolutely worse than the day before from the honju.

your yored expression was one he’d never seen, mostly because he barely looks at you.

“woah there, did you age in the span of a day?” he finds himself joking.

yet you walk past him and go inside your home.

“nice talk.” he grumbles as he follows.

after your shower, you sit at the vanity, with a sleeveless shirt. there are fresh scrapes on your shoulders, your cheek is bruised and your hand are wrapped in bandages. he notices, because you hum softly as you put ointment on the scrapes.

“a mission?” he asks, surprising himself at his worry.

“broke my guns, had to use that blade.” you reply, closing the bottle.

“i told you to practice more close combat.”

“you didn’t say anything, you commented on my bad skills.”

“same difference.”

“if i die one day it’s your fault.”

he frowns, “how would it be my fault?”

and your eyes fell on him. and they gave him an answer he couldn’t hear. you’ll have pushed me so far away that you won’t make it in time when i need you.

— fighting beside you turns to be like fighting alongside mina. he carves a way and you hit, except only on those missions that aren’t nation threatening.

— at some point, he enjoys the teamwork.

— doesn’t show interest head on, he does it in silent ways. (like placing a cold water on your night stand. putting your books back in place when you’re too much in a rush to organize before leaving.)

— your determination for constant growth impresses him, he notices it when you beat him one day on slicing down a small kaiju

and just when he starts to appreciate you, something happens.

“hoshina,” your voice surprises him as he slices through the kaiju.

“l/n, what is it? kinda busy here-“

“VICE CAPTAIN HOSHINA! L/N HAS TAKEN A CRITICAL HIT!” okonogi’s voice goes through, “SHIELDS ARE DOWN!”

“uh,” you chuckle, “so are my vitals, have you said that?”

“what-?” he gasps as he dodges an attack, he’s in a tight spot right now.

“VICE CAPTAIN!” okonogi cries, “YOU MUST RELEASE MORE POWER! THAT KAIJU IS ADAPTING TO YOU!”

“yeah!” he hops off a rooftop and slices down the middle, causing a hit, but it’s bot enough yet. “someone back platoon leader! where is everyone?” he barks.

“we’re sending more reinforcements! the kaijus had overwhelmed our troops and many are severely injured! platoon leader l/n please hold out until back up comes!”

“we’re too shorthanded for backup!” hoshina argues. “i’ll finish this and head over!” he grunts as he attacks once more.

“so like, i’m bleeding out,” you say softly.

“PLATOON LEADER PLEASE STAY STILL! YOU DON’T HAVE STRENGTH LEFT!”

“how bad is it?” hoshina asks as he finally takes down the kaiju. he’s out of breath.

“VICE CAPTAIN HOSHINA HAS ELIMINATED THE KAIJU IN THE SECTOR!” okonogi shouts, “if anyone can go back up platoon leader, we’ll have victory soon!”

“just how bad is it?”

“the honju is a plant based type! it’s core keeps shifting!”

“and so are my organs, i wanna throw up,” you say.

“you idiot! hide! you can’t keep facing it! how far away am i okonogi!?”

“six minutes- PLATOON LEADER L/N YOUR SUIT IS OVERHEATING AGAIN! PLEASE STOP, YOU’VE ALREADY LOST TOO MUCH BLOOD!”

“I FOUND IT’S CORE!” you yell before going silent.

“VICE CAPTAIN PLEASE HURRY! PLATOON LEADER COULD DIE IF THEY DON’T PULL THIS OFF BEFORE YOU ARRIVE-“ okonogi gasps.

“okonogi? what is it? l/n?” he calls out as he dashed inside the building your squad had been.

the sight was ugly, many officers thrown about, blood and kaiju fluids everywhere.

“PLATOON LEADER L/N’S VITALS ARE DROPPING! PLEASE SOMEONE DO SOMETHING!”

“where is it?” he asks as he runs across, slicing the vines coming at him.

“uh, go to the control room far back, full of vines and living plants, literally they’ll attack you,” you slur into his ear. “hurry before i get digested.”

“WHAT!?” okonogi cries.

he sees red. no wonder your life force was dwindling. “YOU’RE SO RECKLESS!”

slice after slice, he makes it through and strikes the core. it’s disregarded by him as he searches for you. soon, he stands before you.

he stares at your body, laid there on the floor surrounded by kaiju fluids, in your own blood. you’re breaths are too shallow, too painful.

“you want something…” you say lightly between breaths, “to do with me now?”

“what are you talking about-“

“platoon leader please don’t use your energy! it keeps dwinDLING! MEDICS! MEDICS!” okonogi screeches.

“you… you never look at me… never accepted me,” you smile tiredly, looking at him through half lidded eyes.

the gash on your side is seeping blood. your suit had given up from over exertion.

“can you stop?” he’s kneeling over you, trying to lift you out of the puddle. “if you don’t come back home with me, then i don’t want to go home.”

you close your eyes, there’s commotion far away. medics maybe? “we live like strangers under a roof…”

hoshina grips you, “i’m… sorry,” he bows his head, pulling you close but still so gentle to your wounds. “please know that i am grateful for you… all these years, you’ve also pushed me to extend my potential…”

“platoon leader! vice captain!” a medic calls out as they bring a stretcher.

“well…” you give a shaky breath, eyes closing, “guess i was… bound to… be in your arms…”

“y/n-?”

“WE’RE LOSING THE PLATOON LEADER!” and everything become white noise to hoshina.

was he going to go home to an empty house? was he going to lose you, after finally accepting that you’re now a part of his life routine, a routine he doesn’t want to exclude? what’s this ache in his heart? he feels cold.

“-out of danger zone,” okonogi’s voice brings him back.

— seeing you frail was never something he expected to see

— you were always standing, as badly as you were always injured, you never showed signs of injury until you two got home or he found you at the hospital

hence, seeing you on the hospital bed wasn’t ever in his mind. you just woke up, smiling at him. your smile is wonderful, he felt like that warmth radiating from you finally brought him back to life. after days of feeling lost, cold and alone, he felt like he was back on track.

“what? wanna be in my arms?” you grin, joking.

and neither of you expected him to take up the offer.

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ gen narumi

— literally did NOT ACKNOWLEDGE YOU

— the audacity! you were so annoyed but you understood too, why would anyone want an arranged marriage?

— he’s cute, you loved looking at him even if he was just yelling at his screen when you were both on stand by

— he ARGUES. ALWAYS. just to get a rise out of you but you PISS HIM OFF when you don’t give him the reactions he wants.

“i want to sleep on the left side today.” he huffs, glaring down at your sleeping figure.

you had literally just managed to fall asleep after all his yelling and that bright ass tv. you glared at the wall, your back facing him as he looms over you.

“move,” he demands, shaking you with so much force you want to flip over and punch him.

yet, you close your eyes and roll over. literally rolling OVER him as you make your way to the right side, squishing him and making him yells and fight. still, you let that shove throw you off of him and settle on the right side. you fall back asleep, smiling at his grumpy remarks.

— as pay back he makes you go through brutal training. yet you always get back at him somehow back in the “comfort” of your shared room.

— you’re more serious about the things you have to accomplish outside of the battlefield, he’s not.

— he constantly berates you for your fighting style, just to piss you off

— at some point you lose confidence in yourself. had had been extremely harsh that day and the kaiju managed to make a good example of you. and gen had laughed at you for it.

“have you changed the bandages?” he asks, looming over you when you were trying to fall asleep.

you say nothing, ignoring his presence. yet, he cages you, practically on top of you with both arms to your sides as he glares down.

“y/n.”

your eyes snap open. that is the first time he’s ever called you by your name and it had to be your first name? his nerve!

“get off me,” you grunt.

“have you changed your-“ he’s easily thrown off of you by your action, he didn’t expect you to move.

“why do you care?” you growl.

he frowns, “i don’t want you messing up our bed sheets!”

you end up leaving the room, crashing somewhere else. he obviously didn’t chase after you, you aren’t that important to him. yet, he couldn’t sleep, remembering the way you left; angry, hurt. he had gotten used to you sleeping next to him, to you waking him up when the two of you had to assist morning duties.

he honestly felt like he couldn’t breathe well, until you came in the morning to change into your attire. he immediately sat up on the bed, staring at you as you move about. not a hello, not a “good morning captain, gotta wake up now” to be followed by his complaints. not even an acknowledgment, you got ready, freshened up and left. he didn’t like that.

— he lives for attention. for recognition. there should always be someone that gives it to him, yet that was the day he realized you don’t.

— it made him feel like he had to prove himself to you.

“lower the sound to the tv, it’s late,” you day dryly.

“i’m winning! listen to me win!”

you just turn over and go to sleep. when he shouts at his victory, his immediate response is to turn to you. yet, since you’re sleeping, you don’t acknowledge him.

he stomps over to you and forces you awake, sitting you up and practically trying to open your eyelids.

“NARUMI!”

“I WON AGAIN!” he roars, shaking you.

— honestly the relationship is more like child and guardian despite how old you two are.

— he has no plans for a family, said that loud and clear

— same way he tries to get a rise out of you, you do it to him when you catch him training late at night

“this is the third night in a row, captain,” you tease as he freezes mid air attack.

“THEY TOLD ME TO BE ON STAND BY IN CASE A KAIJU APPEARED!” he screeches.

“at one in the morning?”

“HOW ABOUT YOU POLISH THOSE HORRIBLE SKILLS OF YOURS!?”

you laugh, setting down a cold water bottle on the floor. “don’t over do it, or else they’ll notice you’re doing this again.”

“SHUT UP! I’M NOT DOING ANYTHING!”

— you’re literally always tidying up behind him. he never tidies up.

“l/n, where are my clothes?” he argues one morning.

“have you washed them?” you ask, annoyed.

he pauses. ever since you two married, he’s never really lifted a finger. well, even when he lived alone, the defense force would sometimes always send someone in to clean up. he’s tidy up once a month but it wasn’t often. now that he thinks hard, as he stares at you in the kitchen, it’s always been you doing almost everything.

“why haven’t you washed them-“

“gen narumi i will throw this knife at you, how about you prove you’re good at surviving in your own home the way you survive out in the battlefield?” you bark as you turn back to face him.

you never snap at him like that, it’s always a silent glare or a petty action. never verbal.

fine, he’ll prove he’s good without you.

— he’s never felt like he’s had a place to belong, no matter how much he proved himself worthy

— captain isao was a clear example of his first time feeling a sense of accomplished belonging

and now, coming home to an empty cleaned out house, he wonders why he feels out of place. it freaks him out, it’s been years since he felt like this. he’s proven himself more than capable of being the best at defending the nation from threats… yet.. why hasn’t he done the same to keep a home.

you didn’t give a divorce, simply asked to be elsewhere for a while, off on a mission that even you don’t know how long will last. yet, coming home to this isn’t… normal… anymore. time and time again, he was rejected from homes and hoped orphanages, that desire to have a home long gone after years or not being enough no matter how much he proved himself.

and now, he’s alone in these four walls again. where you had tried to make a home out of. where he, unknowingly, didn’t even have to prove himself worthy of having. of belonging.

“captain gen! how can we help you?”

“i wanna see how platoon leader l/n’s mission is going.” he says dryly.

everyone in the room turns to him, like he lost his mind.

“uh, i-if you don’t mind captain, why would that be?”

“i don’t have to explain anything to you!”

he doesn’t get to watch or hear how your mission is going. captain isao kicks him out, he put up a fight of course, but it was embarrassing to even try to come up with a valid reason. he doesn’t like you, always in his business, in his commodity, in every mission, every training. always cleaning ip after him, always telling him to go to bed early, always telling him to file out reports- always breathing down his neck!

you’re weak. strong enough to be platoon leader but still so weak! always coming home hurt. always needing medicine. always taking breaks during training.

yet, when he finally gets to see you in action again, after weeks of being denied your whereabouts, he finds himself seeing you. actually seeing you in action. you’re different here than in training, than when you had last fought beside him. yet, you could do better. he knows that, so he grows frustrated when he sees you take a hit and miss the perfect opportunity to subjugate the kaiju.

going against the rules, like always, he does it for you. you’re eyes are wide as you see him do just what you were trying to do. so easily. they superiors are barking in your in ears. they’re doing the same in gen’s. yet, you couldn’t hear them, only your anger and your frustration, you’re insecurity eating at you again.

“was i ever, even for one second, enough for you?” you yell, stomping over towards him.

“you had a chance and you didn’t take it!” he barks.

“GEN NARUMI! YOU WILL BE SUSPENDED!” captain isao roars in the in ear.

“FOR WHAT!?

“for always making everything about yourself!” you jab your gun at him, shoving him a step back. “where’s your teamwork? why do you keep making me feel like i don’t belong here!”

he stares at you, wide eyed.

he… he made you feel like you don’t belong? you, l/n y/n who always did better throughout every mission. you, who always messed with him when he didn’t get along with you. you, who was always levelheaded even to nag at him.

“only-“

“only the strong survive here! i know!” you seethe, “if you want me out so bad just tell me! don’t insult my skills! my efforts!”

“hey, i’m your captain-“ his argument is weak in his ears too.

hence, he feels, for the first time, like he actually is in the wrong when you growl and walk past him. you stomp off, fuming. are you about to leave the defense force? give him the divorce?

“just so you know-“ he yells, making sure no one else is listening in. “you’re the best thing that’s happened to me.”

you stop in your tracks.

“i’m prideful, i don’t play nice,” he chokes out, “but… don’t leave me.”

you turn around, anger long gone. but you’re still distraught. you’re just dissatisfied. “gen… not now.”

and he watches you leave.

— screw all his kaiju missions. he has to win you back, because just now he’s realizing he had you.

“gen, what are you doing.”

“i need money.” he says as he kneels before you when you finally return home.

you nudge his head with your boot, “get up. how embarrassing, you sure you’re my captain?”

“HEY! RESPECT ME-!”

you walk past him, leaving him alone. he huffs, watching you set your belongings back.

“don’t move those boxes!”

“you ordered a bunch of stuff from yamazon for what!?”

“it’s stuff we could need!” he argues.

you sigh and turn around, “like what, gen?”

“uh,” he scratches his head, then gives you an accusatory look, “i don’t have to explain myself to you!”

“uh, yes you do! have you forgotten we’re married!?”

he looks away, unable to form an argument. it’s a surprise, normally he’s quick to fire back at you, but he seems so at bay. it’s…

“disgusting,” you grimace, “what’s wrong with you? aren’t you used to being suspended? what’s with this change?” you look around, “hey, it’s even clean in here, despite all these boxes.”

“yeah so what?” he huffs, crossing his arms. “i’m way better at cleaning than you are, i just don’t like doing slave work often.”

“slave-“

“plus, we’re married,” he puckers his lips as he looks away from you, “aren’t chores like,, shared or something?”

you stare at him wide eyed. is he… for real? he glances at you and you’re heart skips a beat at the blush that crawls on his face. he’s for real. ah, what a darn cute knuckle head.

“this is only going to last a day isn’t it,” you chuckle to yourself.

#anime headcanons #anime x reader #hoshina soshiro x reader #gen narumi x reader #kaiju no 8 x reader #kn8 x reader #kn8 x male reader #kaiju no 8 x male reader #kaiju no 8 x you #kaiju no 8 headcanons #kaiju no 8 oneshots #kn8 x you #kaiju no 8 x gender neutral reader #anime x male reader #hoshina soshiro x you #gen narumi x you

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wenumsmol · 4 months ago

Text

Umai

ModernAU!Rengoku Kyojuro x GN!Reader

Summary: Kyojuro just got home from a solo outing on a hot day and he's looking so hot you can barely concentrate on what he's saying. He catches on and it's up from there. (He's innocent and cute til he isn't.)

Content Advisory: Proof-read but the plot twist is my eyes keep crossing from sleepyness. If it doesn't make sense, tough titty.

Fluff, Smut-heavy, Overstim, Gender Neutral Reader, A little rough (He fucks like his daddy and you can't tell me otherwise.)

WC: 3.3k words.

Do not repost anywhere, claim as your own, or advertise my works on tiktok. Kay? Thanks.

༒︎Masterlist༒︎

MINORS DON'T INTERACT. Go AWAY. NO!

*Sprays water* GIT! No means no. I do not consent.

Kyojuro pedals up to the apartment building, the summer heat clinging to his skin like a second layer. He skids to a stop, dismounting with a fluid motion, and walks his bike to the rack, locking it securely before heading inside. His compression t-shirt is soaked with sweat, clinging to his muscular frame, and his basketball shorts hang low on his hips. A baseball cap covers his signature golden hair, now damp with perspiration.

He climbs the stairs to the apartment, each step echoing in the quiet building. When he reaches the door, he unlocks it and steps inside, the cool air of the apartment a welcome relief. He toes off his sneakers, neatly placing them alongside yours, and tosses his keys and cross-body backpack onto the side table with a clink.

"Hey, babe! I'm home!" he calls out, his voice full of energy despite the long bike ride. He walks into the living room, where you’re lounging on the couch, and stops in front of you.

You look up from your book, momentarily stunned by the sight of him. Kyojuro’s flushed face, the sheen of sweat on his skin, the way his t-shirt clings to every muscle—it’s all incredibly distracting.

He glances toward you, his eyes lighting up as he sees you lounging on the couch, engrossed in a book. "Hey there, sweetheart." His voice is warm and affectionate as he greets you. "How's your day been? I missed you."

You look up from your book, smiling as you set it aside. "Oh, hey Kyo. My day’s been alright. I just got into a good part of this book," you say, holding up the novel.

Kyojuro’s eyes follow the book in your hands, then meet your gaze with genuine concern. "I’m glad you’re enjoying it," he says, stepping closer. "I missed you so much today. I know it was too hot for you to join me at the zoo, and that's okay. But tell me, are you doing alright? Did you stay cool and hydrated?"

You chuckle softly, feeling his care and concern warm you. "Yeah, I’ve been good. I stayed inside with the AC and had plenty of water. I’m glad you had a good time, though. I also hope you took breaks while riding. It's crazy out there today."

While he appreciates your worrying, being hot never really bothered him all that much. He'd even go as far as saying that he was made for this weather.

"Perfect," he says with a relieved smile, his eyes still sparkling with the excitement of his day. "Let me tell you all about it. You won’t believe the things I saw. There was this one zoo keeper who—"

He pauses, pulling off his cap and shaking out his hair right in front of you. Flame-tipped strands fall in loose waves around his shoulders, gleaming even in the dim light of the room. Kyojuro runs a hand through his hair, ruffling it to dry off some of the sweat. He looks wild, carefree, and undeniably sexy.

You hum, watching the way a stream of light catches his disheveled strands and hits his eyes just right.

"And the penguins! They were waddling around so cutely. I could watch them for hours. Oh, and the gorillas! One of them came right up to the glass and stared at me for a good minute. It was like we were having a moment."

Kyojuro chuckles, his deep laugh resonating through the room. He walks over to the fridge, grabs a bottle of water, and takes a long drink, his Adam's apple bobbing with each gulp. You can't tear your eyes away, captivated by the casual display of strength and grace.

As he turns back to you, he finally notices your dazed expression. "Are you okay?" he asks, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You seem a little distracted."

You blink, trying to regain your composure. "Uh, yeah, I'm fine. Just... listening."

Kyojuro's smirk widens into a grin. "Oh, I see how it is," he teased, walking over to the couch. He leans down, his face inches from yours. "You can't keep your eyes off me, can you?"

Your breath hitches as he closes the distance, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light kiss. "Well, I can't blame you," he murmurs, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "I did work up quite a sweat today."

Before you can respond, he deepens the kiss, his hands roaming over your body with a mix of tenderness and urgency. You melt into him, all thoughts of the zoo forgotten as the heat between you intensifies.

Kyo pulls back just enough to speak, his breath warm against your skin. "Let's take this to the bedroom," he suggests, his tone leaving no room for argument. He scoops you up effortlessly, carrying you down the hall as you clung to him, anticipation buzzing through your veins.

Once inside, he lays you down on the bed, his movements gentle but intense. Calloused fingers graze your skin as he pulls off your oversized tee and slides off your sleep shorts with a tender touch.

"I've been thinking about this all day," he admitted, his voice rough with need. "Now, let me show you just how much I missed you."

Kyojuro tilts his head back, a soft sigh escaping his parted lips. His thick fingers comb through the flame-bitten strands of his golden hair, eyes locked on you. You watch, mesmerized, as his muscles flex while he gathers his hair into a loose bun.

You can’t resist tracing every dip and contour of his bulky chest and shoulders with your hands, greedily exploring the strength beneath his skin. Your gaze drifts up to his face, and Kyojuro’s half-smile sends a thrill through you.

Heat rushes to your cheeks as he leans down to capture your lips. His mouth moves sensually, a slither of tongue and teeth that nibble at your lips, sucking them gently. Kyojuro's hands roam your body, leaving you breathless and craving more until suddenly he breaks away and rises to a kneeling position on the bed, chuckling deeply.

"You like what you see, huh? Well, hold on, sweet thing..."

All you can manage is a nod, your heart picking up speed.

His eyes sparkle with mischief as he steadies himself with one hand splayed on the bedspread. With the other, Kyojuro teasingly plays with the buckle of his belt before unclipping it. His tongue lazily traces his lips, making a show of holding and dropping the belt, the metal piece clattering on the hardwood floor.

Next, his hands move with deliberate dexterity to the buttons of his pants, undoing each one with practiced ease. The dark denim and briefs slide down, revealing his thick thighs. Kyojuro kicks them aside, his hand wrapping around his cock with a low hum. You gasp as his erection bobs against his stomach, proud and thick. It's impressive and a bit intimidating.

Precum beads at the tip, and he wipes it away with his thumb, smearing it on your lower lip. You taste him as you hungrily suck his finger.

“Wanna see how I do it when you’re not here, sweet thing?”

“Y-yeah,” you mumble breathlessly.

Kyojuro beams, his grin widening as he murmurs something your mind struggles to grasp. You pull off his thumb with a lewd ‘pop,’ releasing it.

He leans back with a sigh, retrieving a bottle of lube from the bag on the edge of the bed. His cock twitches as he holds it up, the grin on his face as infectious as ever. He flicks open the cap and pours a generous amount onto his palm.

You shiver as his fingers wrap around his shaft, slickening it with purposeful strokes. The rhythmic motion of his hands, combined with the way his eyelids hood over his eyes, makes your breath catch.

“Oh yeah...watch carefully,” he rasps. “You’ll get some soon.”

In an instant, his grin fades. He groans deeply as his grip tightens at the base, sliding up to the head. He sizes you up, his hips jolting with each stroke. The bedframe creaks, and his moans fill the room.

“Shit tends to get a little hot when I’m involved. You’ll have to excuse me...” he says, slowing down.

Kyojuro cups his heavy sack, tugging it slightly as he feels the blood pool in his shaft. His red-ringed eyes drink in your reaction.

“Fuck, do you want this dick, baby? I can see you drooling for it.” That award-winning smile returns. “I want to play with you first, though. Make you feel good and ready before I’m deep in you,” he drawls slowly.

His hands slide down your body, tracing the contours of your abdomen, the curve of your hips, and the fat of your ass, until they rest on your thighs. His fingers sink into their plushness, gripping tightly as he maneuvers your legs into a perfect press.

“But I think you’re already well aware of that...” He purrs against your neck, placing a soft, lingering kiss just under your jaw. The kiss is so light you barely feel it until the cool air hits your skin as he pulls away.

Your knees are pinned back, and you're spread out so nicely for him. His eyes drink you in like gasoline feeding a fire. He leans down slowly, watching you watch him kiss and lick the crease of your thighs before focusing on your center. It's so sensitive when it's not blocked by a piece of fabric. Kyojuro makes use of his strong jaw and lips to nip and drag against your inner thigh, and your skin burns from the stimulation.

Finally, he makes contact, and you hiss a sharp gasp as your eyes roll up. He's kissing, using his tongue. Your eyes can't quite focus on the details. All you feel is raw, molten pleasure. So much pressure from different directions, causing the space behind your navel to tense.

Over the music in the background, you hear lapping and wet sounds and the occasional suck as Kyojuro groans what could have been words. But you aren't sure. All you know is he's getting a taste of his favorite dessert.

He'd stop for a moment, only to look up with a smirk and raise an eyebrow at you, as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, before looking you up and down again. "Don't be so impatient...You think you're soft enough for me, baby? Pliant enough? I want you hot enough to melt my dick off. Lemme finish cookin'..." and he slips his hot tongue back inside.

There's a flame-like glow in his eyes when they make contact with yours, and it does more than set your heart ablaze.

"You're aching for me down here, aren't you?" Kyojuro whispers against your entrance, tracing it with an index finger. "But patience is a virtue."

"I-I can't help it..."

You'd say, a shaky whine in your voice as he kept licking and teasing you, like he was trying to get you to the very edge - trying to get you so close, yet not close enough to send you over.

This position becomes too intense. It's almost unfair how good it feels, and you have to close your eyes as your orgasm rapidly swells.

"Tastes so fuckin' good," Kyojuro's voice is ragged. His tongue outlines the very edge of your wet hole, then dips inside. The slurping is obscene, but he pays it no mind, focused entirely on you and chasing your climax.

It strikes you like a sudden burst of wind to a campfire. And like fire, your back bows in an arch from his relentless motions. You don't remember giving your vocal cords free reign, but the strangled cry of Kyojuro's name floods the entire building. Your stomach clenches and quivers, and you want to clamp your thighs around his head to stop it. It's too strong—it's all so much.

"Ooh, right there. Yeah, just like that...fuck, Kyo," you breathe, your hips faltering.

Kyojuro's jaw pops lewdly at the rough pace, but he picks it up.

"Right here?" He emphasizes his point with two fingers slowly slicking into you. You bite your lower lip, humming a lax 'yeah' as your eyelids flutter at the stretch, and nod.

"Then cum for me, sweet thing," Kyojuro slides his free hand down to cup your ass and effortlessly angles you just right. "Cum for me so I can fuck you proper, make it sloppy."

"Right fucking there, ohmyg-god please don't stop—"

Your head jerks forward violently from his intense sucks, feeling the coiling heat at your belly quickly getting tighter and tighter. A full-body shudder goes through you. Your leg shakes, accidentally kicking him in the back of the head, and he doesn't react beyond a low groan. You can't be bothered to apologize as he mercilessly draws out the pleasure until the sensation finally fades to a dull throb, and he slows to a stop, eventually sliding his fingers from you.

"Wow..."

Kyojuro releases your other leg from his grip. Your entire body quivers as the air and his exhale rushes against your now sloppily wet center, making you whimper.

He pants as his wide smile comes into view, and it's so wet it looks obscene. Yet when he pops his fingers in his mouth, it's still not the hottest thing you've ever seen.

The real winner is the look of pure bliss in his warm, hungry gaze as he rolls his tongue, tasting what's left of you.

As he positions himself above you, his lips are soft and warm, but also slightly damp against yours. Everything he does is hot. It's seriously not fair.

"So fuckin' tasty...let's see how many times I can give it to you, hm?" His hips settle against yours. "Sweet thing, I'm gonna wreck you."

"Mmmm..." His breath cools against your sweat-slicked collarbone. Kyojuro tilts your hips, and the shift in pressure sends your gaze spiraling.

"Just take it for me. C'mon baby." It's thick and velvety as it pushes into you, slowly at first. Your jaw goes slack, a small gasp escaping with each movement. Then he stops.

"Wait, wait..."

He flexes within you, hitting the perfect spot just to torment you.

Your breathing is labored as you run your hands over your face, feeling like you could go mad from his sensual torture. It was frustrating, the slow pace he's built up makes you squirm.

"You're so damn tight," he grunts through gritted teeth. "Relax for me, baby."

"Stop teasing, please..." Your plea almost sounds like a sob. "I need more, Kyo."

Kyojuro chuckles deeply, the sound vibrating through you. "Alright, sweet thing. I'll give you what you want."

With that, he pulls out almost completely before plunging back in with a powerful thrust. You cry out, the sudden fullness overwhelming. He sets a relentless pace, each stroke deliberate and deep, hitting all the right spots. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, accompanied by your breathless moans and Kyojuro's grunts of pleasure.

His grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your flesh as he drives into you. The intensity builds, a coil tightening in your core, ready to snap.

"Cum for me again, sweet thing. I want to feel you," Kyojuro growls, his voice rough with desire.

You can't hold back any longer. Your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, your body convulsing with the force of it. Kyojuro follows soon after, his hips stuttering as he spills into you with a guttural moan.

He collapses beside you, both of you panting and spent. He pulls you close, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

"That was amazing," he murmurs, his voice filled with genuine affection. "You're amazing."

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "You too, Kyo. You too."

You grip Kyojuro's neck, fingers sinking into the sweat-slicked skin, and clutch his bicep as his thrusts grow more frantic, leaving him gasping for breath. His muscles ripple beneath your touch, each movement sending waves of pleasure through you. A guttural groan escapes him, breaking through his clenched jaw. The room fills with the raw, wet slap of skin against skin, mingling with the intoxicating scent of your shared release.

You're both lost in the sensation, growing more sloppy with every breath. Kyojuro's next exhale nearly knocks you off balance as his gaze darkens with deep-seated tension. A whine escapes your gritted teeth, your toes curling as you cry out, his own moans rising in a desperate chorus. His hips twitch uncontrollably, his hand tugging at your hair in a blend of pain and pleasure as you climax together.

He struggles to maintain his rhythm, releasing deep inside you, each pulse flooding you with heat. The overwhelming fullness makes you gasp, each spurt pushing your limits.

Kyojuro pants heavily, his body shaking. Before you can catch your breath, he presses deeper, his cock still leaking copious amounts of cum. His grinding movements elicit sharp intakes of breath as he continues, not quite ready to stop. He hooks your knee for leverage, the obscene sloshing sound and the sensation of his heavy head bumping into that sensitive spot make you yelp in surprise.

"Please, Kyojuro, I can’t cum anymore. It’s too much," you plead, your voice slurred as your body shakes violently beneath him, tears streaming down your face.

"Just one more," he begs, his voice a desperate whisper. "You’re so good. Hold out for me, okay? Just one more."

It’s too much, your brain a fog of pleasure, but he keeps pushing, his desire insatiable. Your body trembles with every thrust, overly sensitive and on fire.

Kyojuro lowers himself above you, his grin as delirious as yours, but you can’t help but adore the satisfaction on his face. "That’s it... Take this dick, baby. Just don’t pass out on me. You’re too good to miss this," he murmurs, his breath hot and labored. Sweat drips from his forehead onto yours, mingling with the cum that leaks from you as he drives into you once more.

Each thrust stretches you, and with one final, overwhelming push, he loses control, pumping the last of his cum deep inside you. His eyes lock onto yours, distant yet filled with awe. "God... so hot. I love you."

Kyojuro pulls you into his arms, kissing you tenderly, licking the sweat from your neck and hairline. You swat at him weakly, complaining about how gross it is.

A deep chuckle rumbles through his chest as he eases out with a sigh. You nuzzle into his chest, murmuring, "I love you too, Kyo. Why do you always have to fuck me like it’s the last time..."

Kyojuro kisses your nose, cupping your cheek. "Because," he whispers, his voice tender as he strokes your feverish skin, "I have to make sure you always know the full extent of my love until the very end, ember of my heart."

His answer is sickeningly sweet, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

He tightens his embrace, stroking your hair until you both drift into a peaceful sleep.

A/N: *Consensual kisses for whoever wants em* Thanks for reading <3 please reblog and like!

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inhonoredglory · 1 year ago

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Defining Ineffable Love (or, Aziracrow Learn the Rules of Romance)

(In response to this ask about ineffables and asexuality)

One of the major threads this season was Aziraphale and Crowley asking themselves what exactly is their relationship. Not what it is in terms of how much they love each other. (That's a given.) But what it is in terms of the human implications of their love.

Crowley and Aziraphale definitely come at the relationship with different perspectives, in terms of what they’re willing to admit to the relationship being. I don’t think we can entirely interpret it in human terms. –David Tennant (source)

For 6000 years, they’ve never put a name on their relationship. They didn’t, because they’re inhuman, genderless, sexless beings and they didn’t grow up (as it were) with labels. And even when they did learn them, they couldn’t say it was love, because admitting that was a death sentence.

All of Aziraphale’s heart eyes and pining could live comfortably in his mind if he never admitted what that said about him as an angel (trauma compartmentalization). Crowley tries desperately to be cruel and nasty to add white noise around the blatant reality of his constant loyalty to Aziraphale. If you don’t put a word to it, it’s not real and they can’t punish you.

After the Not-pocalypse, for all rights and purposes, Aziraphale and Crowley chose humanity as their identity. We see Aziraphale “playing house” in various human roles (as a landlord, a private eye, a magician).

We even see Crowley intentionally taking on human behavior to handle emotional issues: “Just breathe, that’s what humans do.” They’re slowly and intentionally enculturating themselves into the world they want to belong––earth.

Yet it’s setting up Maggie and Nina that makes Aziraphale and Crowley start thinking about their relationship as a human construct.

Because fundamentally, Aziraphale and Crowley are not human. Like Neil Gaiman tells us constantly, they can’t be defined in human terms when it comes to gender and sexuality. They can shift and move through each and any of those markers at will, purely for the pleasure of the thing: “angels are sexless unless they really want to make an effort.”

IMO that makes them originally asexual, in the sense they were created without the need for sex. And it makes them fundamentally transgender and genderfluid, because while on earth, their sexless, eldritch spiritual bodies take on human, gendered forms and clothing. What gender (and sexuality) they identify with while on earth varies through the eras. Crowley definitely has a fluid gender identity, while Aziraphale appears to have settled on gay man (aka THE southern pansy) for his internal typology (although all of these identities are subject to change).

In the midst of all this fluidity, it’s no wonder Aziraphale and Crowley haven’t thought of their relationship in human terms before. There’s just so much different in them and their bodies than what they see in humanity. And there are no books and songs that show the kind of love they have, in the malleable, sexless bodies they have, with the background they have; it’s all ineffable.

Aziraphale and Crowley didn’t start out thinking they were in a romantic relationship. Whatever feelings they had were long repressed, redefined, and shuttled away. But they did love each other, without question. And it was that love which scared them, because it was bigger than anything they saw among humans, a love that was beautiful and blasphemous and unfathomable.

Kinda like what David Duchovny said about Mulder and Scully in The X-Files, “I don’t know if they’re in love. In a way, their relationship is deeper than that, because they cannot live without each other.”

Now take this profound, ineffable love and drop it into the little boxes and labels human culture has created for itself.

Full disclosure: I’m an asexual demiromantic person in a queerplatonic relationship, so I’ve done a fair bit of research on what romance is and how the rituals of romance are, in many ways, social inventions that vary from culture to culture. There’s love and then there’s romance, and they don’t always overlap. So my interpretation of Aziraphale and Crowley comes through this lens and the fact that Neil Gaiman has affirmed the validity of an ace-spec reading on our ineffables.

Which brings me back to my thesis: That only now are Aziraphale and Crowley thinking of themselves as a romantic couple, precisely because they are interfacing with humans and taking on their social rules.

I like this one asexual person’s description of their experience, which feels very much like our ineffables (from a very good article, I def recommend):

If there is a border between friendship and romance, then in my internal landscape, it goes right through a misty forest where no one has ever bothered to place signs.... Neither of us had intended to start anything even vaguely romantic, but the activities we did and the intense kind of immediate connection we had was coded as romantic in our culture.

That’s what Crowley realizes when Nina confronts him about his relationship to Aziraphale.

“It looks like that from here.” What Crowley and Aziraphale share is beyond definition, but Nina cannot imagine the anything beyond the human labels she was taught. The tragedy of an everlasting love is that it can only be conveyed properly to other humans if it is cast in such small human words––partner, boyfriend, husband.

Because when Crowley denied those human roles for Aziraphale, Nina slid down the path of thinking Aziraphale was just his “bit on the side,” because there were no labels left she could imagine for them. If you don’t put a word to it, it’s not real.

That’s the purpose of labels, to culturally validate a person's identity. Labels, of course, DO NOT create reality; people's experiences are always real, in all their varied ineffability. But labels allow a space for culture (ie other humans and political and legal society) to recognize formally your lived reality.

So Crowley started really thinking about him and Aziraphale, about the ineffable love between them and realized that in human terms, those would be the things he’d call Aziraphale, because those were the words that gave Aziraphale that place of importance in his life.

But with that realization comes all the human trappings and behavioral patterns around those words (the candlelit dinners, dramatic rescues, drinks at the Ritz, etc.) which Crowley had never thought of before, and yet… maybe romance is what he and Aziraphale have been doing all along.

That’s why this season centered so much around Aziraphale and Crowley using cultural artifacts (film and literature) to understand romance, because romance is so deeply socially-defined.

Aziraphale himself has been leaning hard into the romantic social cues (he’s more well-read in the cultural trappings of romance than Crowley is), especially post-Blitz. But when he watches Maggie and Nina dancing, he works up the courage to do something with Crowley that’s even more explicitly loaded as “traditionally romantic” than anything he’s done up to that point.

Because while risking their lives for each other and defying everything for each other is love in its purest form, dancing (specifically in Jane Austen’s world) is a public performance coded for potential marriage partners. It's an intimate ritual of the entire body. (And in British slang, dancing has been used as a euphemism for sex.)

Crowley's "We don't dance" is really telling, because it shows Crowley’s awareness of the unknowable devotion between them vs the human roles Aziraphale is asking him to fill, specifically its physical aspects. Aziraphale is asking to make their relationship more public, more physically explicit, more coded as romantic in a setting specifically intended to couple individuals.

While Maggie and Nina inspired Aziraphale to progress their relationship into a publicly physical direction, Maggie and Nina inspired Crowley to think of the emotional implications of their human roles: the commitment, security, and monogamy of a husband, a partner, an us.

That’s what he decides after Maggie and Nina confront him in the end. “You never say what you’re really thinking.” He wants to codify his relationship so they each become responsible to one another. Aziraphale has always been his soulmate, the one he could always rely on. But he wants to place a word and a role to their love that will bring with it Aziraphale’s commitment and dedication to him.

And that's another reason why Crowley kisses Aziraphale, because he knows Aziraphale was willing to make their relationship physical, and he wants that, too. To consummate this bond in the way humans do.

But Crowley doesn’t really know how to kiss; he’s not as worldly as he makes out to be. (It’s Aziraphale who owns the gun, and Crowley who’s never fired one.) He uses the kiss as a tool to get across to Aziraphale what he wants for them, in the physical language Aziraphale has been using, because "one fabulous kiss and we're good," right?

But it doesn’t work, because real life and real emotions don’t work like that; life and love don’t follow a script, despite the novels and plays and songs.

Aziraphale and Crowley spent this entire season trying to figure out what their relationship is and what they wanted out of it, trying to make sense of the unfathomable thing they share and the human implications of it, and not quite landing on the same page.

Part 2 of this Analysis, covering a correction in Crowley’s statement (“You don’t dance”) and the further implications of dancing/sex.

#please see the part 2 listed at the end for an analysis Crowley’s “you don’t dance #good omens #good omens 2 #ineffable husbands #go s2 meta #go meta #good omens meta #queer #asexuality #asexual #aromantic #genderfluid #gos2spoilers #go s2 #good omens 2 meta #ineffable romance #*mine #*mymeta

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ozzgin · 4 months ago

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Some more dick-related brain rot…😘

We take the self serve dick bar and use monsters for the monster hotel. We are going to have that full “continental breakfast.” So we have a forest entity cumming maple syrup, a Minotaur cumming milk/creme, a yeti who cums slushies, a slime who cums various jams depending on whatever fruit we feed it, and any more monsters who we can utilize ☺️

When you were talking about your rats, it made me think of some rat-hybrid monster where reader can steer him via. his dick, like a reverse Ratatouille scenario 🐀

Having a robot/android partner, I could use his dick as a literal joy stick when playing video games. Also, if I have to charge robot/android, do you think his dick acts like a giant extension cord I could just plug into the outlet in the wall? Also does that mean he technically “eats” with his dick? I assume when traveling with him internationally, I gotta get a lot of compatible adapters so he can get plugged in successfully🕹️

A Hydra monster would be kinda funny to have sex with, cause maybe if you cut its “head” down south, two more will grow back 🤔

I think that’s all for now. Tell your man that he is very much appreciated, and it’s nice he’s in this club of debauchery 😉

-👘

This amount of thirst and depravity is exactly what the monster guests would come up with just to have Reader employee touch them. 😭 Content: gender neutral reader, rancid NSFW!!! (more white sauce I’m afraid), monster smut

The latest fad your centaur manager has been into is food cooked with bodily fluids. This has had several implications, all of them regrettably involving you.

While the idea has been gripping at his mind like a great plague, he can't possibly ask you to just...let go over his breakfast toast. He can already see how exhausted you return after being used by the starved guests. They stuff you just enough for you to wonder if you'll survive it, then make sure to clean up their mess, politely aiding your speedy recovery, almost as if they weren't the cause of destruction to begin with. The manager has heard it one too many times that your nether regions are numb from all the monstrous tongues and appendages.

Maybe a change of scenery will help.

"Kitchen staff? I thought I'm supposed to clean the rooms", you inquire, somewhat confused by the sudden proposal.

"It's not quite...kitchen duties, per se. We need someone to help with the hotel's breakfast. We have a new experimental menu, though not enough...hands."

You should've expected it. How bad could it possibly be, you told yourself, pouring some orange juice for the seated guests? You had your first suspicions from the big, flashy sign now propped outside the room: service provided by our esteemed and loved human employee. You didn't need to ponder much on its meaning. Once inside, your task became painfully clear. You were to milk the guests for the required ingredients.

Having their way with you is a treat in itself, but seeing you struggle with your small, human hands, trying to figure them out? Priceless. Well, for them, anyways. Despite your protests, you have left your morning shifts with a ridiculous number of tips. Maybe it's the way you look up through your lashes as you explain: "Of course I know your weak spot. You're one of my- our regulars." Or maybe it's the way you tease your favorites, wondering out loud, with a grin, if you should have some of the generous release for your own lunch later.

Your hard work has not gone unnoticed. The centaur head manager recently made the sheepish suggestion of having you at the receiving end of this new service, trying his best to sound convincing, and hiding the fact it’s been his most ardent wish for the past couple of weeks. Maybe he will get his breakfast topping, after all.

[Monster Hotel] | [More Monsters]

#monster hotel #monster x reader #monster x human #monster smut #monster imagines #monster fucker #terato

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livelaughlovesubs · 7 months ago

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I think despite how well he plays himself off all the time, Dazai still has depressive episodes sometimes when he's alone. Imagine coming home early and catching him in such a vulnerable state. Fuck him nice and sweet- show him how much you love him despite everything -🦀

Yk what, this will be the second part of that maid dazai fic. And I’ll make it sweet enough that you get a stomachache. Also- @amo-bsd

Part one!

Dom!reader x sub!dazai - reader is gender neutral

Warning: pegging (can be read as a dick), teasing, praise kink, marking - hickeys, handjob, dacryphilia, role play, lingerie

“You want me to defile you?” A low voice so hypnotising it send shivers down his spine echoed through the room. His gaze showed absolut devotion, legs spread on the couch just the way you wanted. “…yes, please.” The brunette gasped, his left hand helping you hold his skirt up while his right one reached behind him. The way his chest heaved with each breath, lips trembling whenever he had to part them, made you go crazy about him. With a single tug, he opened the tie of his apron, making space for you. You rubbed his entrance again, gently tapping it. That was all it took to make him squirm and shut his eyes due to ecstasy. “Uh-uhHhm..!” Dazai whined through gritted teeth, the blush that was spreading across his cheeks intensified. His puffy hole kept clenching whenever you touched him, and loosening up once your digits leave.

“Look at how sensitive you are,” You commented while leaning closer towards him, face now inches away from his. “Ha-haah.. if you know then stop teasing me.” He tried to stand his ground, noticing you brought the end of his dress near him. Afterwards you uttered a single command, “Bite onto this.” Normally he would have talked back and made a scene, though for now he decided to be obedient. This surprised you a little, yet it wasn’t a bad feeling. Guess your dear lover can be good at times? Carefully, he bit the fabric, after a little while it was soaked with his saliva already. “Good boy.” You cooed when you saw this cute scene, kissing his forehead while your weaker hand slipped to his waist.

His brows were furrowed, eyes half lidded as he watched your demonstrations. Fingers leaving his bottom and now teasing his tip. A milky, sticky liquid stuck to the latex glove. The more you rubbed over his soaked panties, the darker the spot got. Now you were smirking sweetly, whispering playfully “you are getting so wet for me.” After you finished your sentence, you could swear more precum spurt out of his slit. Did that comment embarrass him? His tender and slim body trembled ever so slightly, eyes sparkling and begging you to do more. “How adorable.” You added, before licking his earlobe.

The boy jerked, hands clutching the dress to hold it up higher. Then he closed his eyes, clenching them tightly enough for a single tear to run down his cheek. Mind racing and heart pounding while your hand kept playing with his dick. “Hmm..hngh..” soft whimpers left him, and his eyes became watery, more tears were about to spill. Slowly you changed from his ear to his neck, kissing and sucking on multiple spots. Leaving a trail of marks behind. Only a few minutes later the red spots build, proof of your claim over him. The beautiful hickeys you left behind encouraged you to go further, the hand on his waist now slipped to his thighs. You rubbed his tip a little longer, until your fingers were coated with his precum entirely, then you moved on to his entrance again.

Soft and sweet moan filled the room, all muffled through a thin fabric. Your fingertips tapped his entrance again, the white fluid now stuck to his rim too. He gasped, watching you play with his body as you pleased. Then you said, “you are doing so well for me, my love,” while staring at him with loving eyes. Dazai didn’t know what to do in that situation, so he averted his gaze. You smirked at the sudden shyness from the male, before sticked a finger inside him. “Mhmm! Nghh.” He wines, eyes widening as he let out some more lewd noises. In the meantime you worked him open, a second finger followed soon. “So good for me, my pretty boy.” At the sound of that compliment, he dick twitched inside his panties. Why were your words so addicting? They were so sweet, it made him feel weird and warm. As if he was a small, weak and precious thing that deserved any of this. Though one question lingered in the back of his mind, was he truly deserving of this?

His tears finally spilled, hands quivering while pleasure coursed through him. Suddenly you raised his leg and brought it over your shoulder, grinning the entire time as you did that. The black laced thigh highs he wore were beyond attractive, enough to make you feel butterflies. “Y/n.. nHhh, mh- please..” he managed to breath out through gritted teeth. You just kept smiling while you rubbed your fingers against his soft and warm insides, admiring how beautiful he looked right now. “Ahh! Oh-ohhh..it feels good.” The brunette groaned and stopped biting the dress, but his hands were still holding it up. Instead of punishing him, you just let it be, you loved hearing him talk anyway.

Wet and lewd squelching sounds left whenever you trusted your fingers inside him, followed by a fierce jerk from the male. He’d arch his back and whine about wanting more. “So cute, I love you my dear.” You chuckled, before you took your fingers out. Sticky strings were connecting the glove to his insides. “Really adorable..” this time you muttered under your breath, staring at his vulnerable state with focused eyes. His lips shook, eyes half lidded, brows furrowed while a deep crimson blush spread across his features. Not to mention how perverted this position was. It exposed all of his shameful parts, as well as his most sensitive spots.

The way his thrust his hips indicated how he wanted more, a disappointed whine left him, a plead for more of this bliss he was feeling. His entrance clenched shut immediately, and the sticky liquid dripped down his tender skin. “You look so beautiful right now.” You praised him, and it made his dick twitch. Then you lined your own one up with his hole after finishing preparing everything, and pressed the tip against him. “Tell me if it hurts, alright?” Even though you whispered that into his ear, he couldn’t register most of your words. His eyes were glued to your length, anticipation filling him as he thought about taking you. Lips pressed shut and gaze eagerly waiting for you to fill him up. You also noticed how his rim kept loosening and clenching, as if his body was begging for you.

With a swift motion, you started putting it in. Only the tip alone was enough to make him into a mess, eyes rolling back as a storm of moans escaped his throat. “Ahh!! Ngh hmMM! Oh- y/N~moreee.. hahh, ple-please..!!” Dazai spout, spitting one nonsense after another. His tongue rolled out while you carefully bottomed out inside him. He tried his best to resist the urge to cum right there right now, especially after feeling it hit against his innermost parts. There was no helping it, it was just so deep inside him! You hugged him again, causing his leg to be raised to his chest. A dumbfounded look was on the boy’s face, and so you explained. “Lay back and enjoy this, alright?”

And you bet he did. When you started moving, all he could think about was you. He couldn’t move an inch while your member continued going in and out of him, so gently and slow, but hard enough to make him see stars. Each time you hit it against his sweet spot he’d cry out, panting and whimpering in delight. “Ah.. ah, uhhh, ahh, y/n- master..!” even now he is still calling you that, but you didn’t mind. After all, he was your good boy, your one and only love, your adorable pet. You kissed his lips, all while pounding inside him with a steady rhythm. Why was this so stimulating? Was what dazai thought. You weren’t being really fast or excessively rough, so why did it feel so damn good?

His heart felt like exploding whenever you calling him by some cute pet names, or even his own name. Sensations strong enough to wipe any thoughts off his mind kept gushing inside him, coursing through his veins and taking him to paradise. When you broke the kiss, he didn’t even notice how he chased after your lips. Still sobbing and crying while begging you for more, wanting to feel more of your touch, more of your voice, more of you. It was warm, it felt really hot inside him. There was no way to describe this other than lust, it must be because you are so skilled..! That’s why whenever you call him cute names he feels himself edging closer to the edge, that’s why your touch always ignites a fire within him, that’s why he always feels so happy when with you.

“Ahh.. I love you, y/nn..” he called out to you again, smiling sweetly while being held in your arms. “I really do..”

REBLOGS ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED

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obsessivevoidkitten · 1 year ago

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(Hope you guys like this little drabble) Male Plague Doctor Yandere x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Noncon/Dubcon, drugging, mentions of disease and treatment, kidnapping, tricked reader, general yandere behavior)

The kingdom was suffering a massive outbreak of fever, and not a normal one either. It was significantly more virulent and deadly than most others.

As in most times of disease healers had been dispatched to research, treat, and contain the illness.

A plague doctor passed through your humble village, which had remained pretty much unscathed, but had to be inspected for early signs of pestilence BEFORE it became a problem.

Over the course of a couple days the entire village had been looked at and given a clear bill of health. You were the last person to be seen.

You felt fine and you were sure you would be given a clean bill of health.

Oh how wrong you had been.

You shivered under the gaze of the masked man, Dr. Cheverell.

With just one look he knew he needed to have you, healthy or not.

“My GOD, I am afraid you are showing symptoms of a very deadly disease. There’s nothing for it, you will have to come with me to my lab immediately!”

You thought there must be a mistake, but you had no choice, he had nearly absolute authority in such matters.

The doctor had you lay in the back of his carriage and encouraged you to rest if you were able.

“You need to conserve your strength.”

Over the course of the next few weeks you grew weaker and your mind was often foggy. Maybe he was right, he was an expert after all.

He had administered drugs through your food so you would think yourself ill.

Once you were cooperative with your treatment you found yourself drugged more often than not.

He HAD to treat you. Had to listen to your relaxed breaths as the ether claimed your consciousness.

There were other treatments too, ones you could only remember hazily.

You could remember in those moments how he had to probe you. You were too weak to fight him. But you mildly protested as best you could.

“Don’t you want to feel better sweetheart?”

Then you’d acquiesce to Cheverell’s expertise.

It was all so hard to put together. Fragments of memory. Something long and warm slipped inside you, it moved back and forth rhythmically until some sort of fluid was pumped into you.

Surely some type of new treatment.

You were always so shaky, Cheverell often had to bathe and even sometimes feed you. You were glad he was so kind and didn’t see someone in your condition as a burden.

#yandere x reader #yandere doctor #yandere plague doctor #male yandere x reader #male yandere x gn reader #my ocs #My OC Cheverell #yandere imagine #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines

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beneathashadytree · 4 months ago

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from the same authors of "do you think zayne cum is cold?" we also have: do you think xavier cum shine in the dark, or that he shines when he comes (like that blonde female character from the boys, that i forgot the name)?

I know you are only message fics for now and i dont know if something like this would fit that format, but if you can i would love to read anything about this ♡

I’m gonna be honest with you nonnie, I’m VERY out of touch with modern media (I’ve watched like. 4 series in my entire life and a total of like 20 movies all in all) so I have no idea what you’ve just referenced, BUTTTT I do believe I have an answer to your question!! Of course this is all based off my silly headcanons, so take my opinion with a grain of salt🙏🏽 Of course, this is pretty NSFW, and the reader is gender-neutral as always!

To anyone else reading this, my requests are still closed!! These are just my ramblings, or old requests I had🫶🏽

Tip jar!

Masterlist

Metaphorically speaking, Xavier’s cum is pretty much lighter fluid

In the sense that this man’s diet is absolutely disastrous… can a person even live on an almost-purely-carnivorous diet???

Naturally that makes his cum a lot more bitter than it normally would be, so unless his lover wants to choke on battery acid every time they swallow his cum, they ought to sit down with him and have a few serious conversations regarding sex vs food

Either he pulls out of their mouth before he cums when they’re sucking him off, or he gets a little more greens in him in order to improve his own taste… fair enough, I would think!

Xavier doesn’t really mind; after all, he’s still eating lots of red meat, he just now balances that out with more fruits and veggies… and he still gets the overwhelming pleasure of watching his partner swallow his release with a much more pleased hum than they ever did, their thumb reaching out to catch any drops that spill out of the corner of their mouth

It drives him half mad, but he guesses that’s a small price to pay

Now that we’ve got the metaphorical part out of the way, let’s get to this interesting point: does he, or does he not glow when he climaxes?

I wouldn’t say that his cum glows, because if it did, I think his other bodily fluids would too

From a fictional anatomical standpoint, I highly doubt that his lover wouldn’t notice if his saliva had a bit of a glow (something they’d surely notice while making out or having a hearty meal, for example)

So I do believe his cum is as normal as normal could be for a man like him

I do believe, though, since he’s not 100% human (or, at the very least, not from Earth) that doesn’t mean he’s fully normal

I think that he would have abnormally thick cum, and I would assume that that has to do with his biological make-up

Given how people from Philos lead extremely long lives (given Xavier’s age, I’d give them a lifespan of 500+), and given how literally none of the characters from Philos have any siblings, I think it would be safe to assume that their seed isn’t very potent to start with

So if a person will live half a millennium and be able to have just 1 kid their entire life, I do believe that their cum would be stickier and thicker in order to have a higher chance of “taking” by not spilling out immediately

So I honestly think that Xavier’s cum is genetically modified for breeding purposes

And regardless of whether or not his significant other has the ability to become pregnant and/or even wants it at all, his brain has him wired to have a bit of a breeding kink that he can’t even help

But of course, he’ll always listen to and respect his partner’s wishes!

One thing I’ve noticed about Xavier, however, is that his eyes tend to lose their shine when he’s being forward and open about his sexual desires

He’s putty in his lover’s hands, yes, but once he takes control? Those angel eyes have a very intentional purpose, and he’s making that message come across loud and clear

Like a turbulent ocean, deep and all-consuming, his gaze leaves no doubts about what he wants

Now, here’s my headcanon: I like to think that when he’s close, his eyes get their shine back; so much so that they would be mistaken for tears

Maybe it’s the emotional attachment to the person he’s yearned for all these years, maybe it’s because of his own EVOL making its appearance

But for some reason, as he begins to lose control, his eyes do shine quite a bit, almost like freshly-cut sparkling sapphires

It’s quite dazzling and a bit surprising to witness for the first time, since Xavier doesn’t usually exhibit non-human behavior

But it makes that seraphic face seem all the more otherworldly; the contrast between how beautiful he is and how downright filthy his actions can be when he’s buried to the hilt inside them makes their head spin

After he’s spilled inside them amidst soft sighs and sweet moans, his eyes do go back to normal after a few seconds of closing them in bliss, so they might miss it if they’re not paying close attention

Kind of hard to look away though, when your lover looks like that

Taglist: @verynormalsstuff @angry-and-yandere @nxx-jordiepord @honestlyjustablog @dawnbreakersgaze @tartartagliaboo @lucis-noctiana @riinari-sa @reika-desu @tikitsune @roll-of-royces @lemonsupernova @loveyoutodeep @belovedof @obiwanmcprobie @kalatipunan @eurekazz @bifedebruxa @thescribeswife @mysticangel123 @xenasolos @jvnluvr @dann-acalle @rin-sv14 @yololesgo @an-ever-angry-bi @semi-orangeapple @lavanderbliss @myturnwhen @winterlvod @carsonology @respitable @stellisangelicus-world @kvsqkiii @bitchynightmarepost @snoozeflare @spotted-salamander @cindywasneverhere @ladyparamount @sncrly0urs @huntersmoon1 @musiclover2119 @girl-who-lives-in-delusion @milktsukii @fromdeepspace-withlove @granddearduck @skriblobz @nadinefromwhere @imhere2dosomething @saerotonins @cantescapethevoid @teewritessmth @lovra974 @straykidz143 @reishuus @xinnn6 @vyntagei @bakahimesama (more in replies!)

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almightygremlinblob · 6 months ago

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In Every Life (AMAB Ver.)

In which Sukuna falls in love with the Reader without realizing it.

Word Count: 5, 466 of slow burn. ⚠️Content Warnings⚠️: True Form Sukuna, Heian Era, Sukuna fluff, soft Sukuna, mentioned cannibalism, slight angst, Sunshine AMAB!Reader but gender neutral expressions used, Reader is not a sorcerer and is implied to be the only non-sorcerer of her village. THIS IS NOT BETA'D and I am very tired while editing this. SO! If you spot any mistakes, esp. around the parts lmao, since I made two ver. of this, pls tell me! Minors and ppl not okay with anything sexual pls DNI and have a nice day 👍🏽 AFAB!Reader (with gender-neutral pronouns) here

⚠️Further Content Warnings⚠️: Virgin!Sukuna, Sub!Sukuna, Reader and Sukuna both switch from gentle doms to subs, size difference, soft & fluffy sex, very messy sex, Reader makes out with the tummy mouth, anal, cock worship, Reader makes out with tummy mouth, lots of fluids in general, lots of mouths, consensual blood drinking, this is getting worse the more I write lmao.

You were happy you managed to catch the attention of the King of Curses.

Sure, you didn't exactly know how you did it. You weren't strong, or exceptionally beautiful like the sons and daughters offered to him. You weren't even that smart!

You were clueless, as a matter of fact!

So clueless that, nearly two weeks ago, you gave the strange looking man with four arms a warm meal and a place to stay for the night - since it didn't seem like the storm would let up any time soon. He was pretty much shunned by the rest of the village upon his arrival…probably due to the overwhelming energy that sent people into fight or flight…but he was just born different!

Probably.

"What's your name, Mister?"

"…"

You quickly learned that he didn't speak much, and he does not like to be looked at. Only watching as you go about your day - trying your best to navigate through the judgement and, frankly, abuse of the other villagers; ever as judgemental about you as they were likely to talk down on you, spread rumors and try to take advantage of your endless kindness. Not that it worked, though - and for that, everyone pretty much hated you. Despite his silence, your visitor was the only one that seemed to regard you without any ounce of hatred.

Then, one day…

"Why do you entertain them?"

"Ah!" You visibly jumped at that moment - up until now you were certain he couldn't speak. His voice was lovely baritone, but held a quiet authority - much like him…and a very clear evil but you wouldn't dwell too much on that. "M-me? Oh…of course, me…"

"U-um…I'm not entirely sure, actually. I don't like them, b-but…" Those sharp, piercing eyes are distant, scanning the forest as you tried to think of a reason. "I-I guess they're my neighbors. Friends? No. But it wouldn't be right to just outright ignore them."

"Hmph, of course…" He scoffs, and rolls his eyes. "You people and your morals…"

"Do you not have friends?"

"No."

"Oh…" Your shoulders slump slightly. "Then, consider me your first friend!"

"No."

"Oh…"

When you visibly deflate, he laughs lightly, shaking his head as if he's heard something utterly ridiculous. "Why does that bother you? You hardly know me. I could be a mass murderer for all you know."

"Because you…you're…" You think for a while, before finding the right words. "One of the most unique people I've ever had the blessing of meeting."

His eyes finally land on you. "Blessing, huh?"

------

Eventually, the villagers turned violent towards you and your guest, but you did your best to keep him safe - urging him to leave, quickly. It was that day, when you were nearly beaten to death, that you learned the strange man's name.

"Die, you peasant!" There was something in the way these villagers attacked. A strange energy that made it hurt all the more. You were bloodied, bruised and beaten to the point you couldn't even find the strength to scream. A blade was pointed to your throat. "Any last words?"

Despite yourself, you manage to spit at him.

"I didn't think you had it in you." That familiar low voice, low and uninterested, sounds from behind you both. Then, before your very eyes, everyone was somehow cut to pieces. No screams, or cries…just the sounds of flesh and bone being cut apart. You were probably hallucinating...

You see your guest walk beside you - the gore, guts and limbs not affecting him in the slightest.

"Ah, you're okay…" His eyes land on you again. "B-be careful…t-there's an invisible…invisible something that's cutting people up…"

He scoffs. "And if I told you that was me?"

"What."

"Tsk." He promptly grabs you and, without you even realizing, your wounds begin healing, closing up, and suddenly you're more aware than you were a while ago. Then, with the flick of his wrist, the bodies get further chopped apart. The gears in your head start to turn and your eyes widen. "O-oh…"

"Go on, then. Go ahead." He grabs your face, forcing you to look at the disembodied people and the growing river of blood. "Run."

"No. No…" Your breathing steadies, and you relax into his hold. He must sense it with the way his whole body tenses for a moment. "Not from you."

In the silence, you can practically hear him thinking as he gets up. And when he made no move, you realized he was waiting for you. So you got up too, wordlessly, and began to follow him. After a while of silence, he graces you with his voice again - quiet, almost…soft.

"My name is irrelevant…but people call me Sukuna Ryomen, the King of Curses."

------

And that was the start of your new life, as a servant of the King of Curses.

It…wasn't so bad! Sure, you could be killed any day, like a few of the other servants and many of the courtesans, but you also didn't do much! And, best of all, no more of those abusive neighbors! Your days were mainly spent helping the head servant - the attractive one with white hair and a pink splotch - do things for the king, for only up to four hours. Four hours! Then you'd spend the rest of the day doing whatever!

This was not one of those days, however.

Today, you were cleaning the Lord's study, in his chambers, along with the attractive head servant. There were...a strangely high number of Dokudami paintings...

"The Lord seems to have an obsession with this herb. Does he like it?"

"That's an interesting observation. Though you're mistaken. It's more the symbolism of this plant."

"And…that would be?"

"Its flowers are delicate, pure. The plant itself is medicinal against many illnesses - it's endlessly helpful. Kind. But it grows everywhere, even in the places not many grow. A surprising resilience despite it's 'delicate' nature." The head servant explains, and you can hear the tinge of amusement in their voice. "Remind you of anyone?"

"Uh…no? No one comes to mind…"

They simply snort at that.

------

The first time you were called to his chambers, you thought you were going to die. Actually, everyone thought you were going to die. They were all giddy at the thought. You didn't expect to just sit there in silence while he practiced his calligraphy.

"I can hear you thinking. Speak."

You fidget around a little, before getting the words out. "I've always been meaning to ask…why…why me, my Lord?"

He clicks his tongue. "You dare question my choices?"

"N-no! Only…I'm curious."

Sukuna is silent for a while, hand perfectly still as he thinks, before eventually speaking.

"You calm me." He sighs as his brush continues to move. "Somehow, every time, you calm me."

------

The courtesans could see you from outside, and you could practically feel them glaring daggers at you - endlessly furious and envious that you could be that close to the Lord.

"My Lord, you…never seem to show interest in your courtesans. Have they, I mean…" You weren't sure how to word it without coming off as too brash.

"Of course they try to bed me. They always do. Don't even try to hide that they're doing it to gain a semblance of power in my estate. The last two were just…" He waves his hand dismissively, tone making it abundantly clear he wasn't happy with the memory. "Had her head cut off and the second had his limbs strewn on the floor."

You feel his gaze on you, scowl evident in even his voice. "Why do you ask me about this?"

"It's just…you have so many, I thought, well..."

"Tsk. They only want something from me, and they think they can take it freely. From me. Me!"

"Surely not ALL of them…" You fidget a little. "Why would you keep them around if that was? There's…there's so many…"

You can practically hear his smirk. "Because their organs taste GREAT sautéed."

"A-ah…"

He snorts, seeing your discomfort. "Are you afraid of becoming like them?"

"I…hm…" You look up in thought. "Perhaps…"

He lets out a soft laugh. "Then you truly are a fool."

"But…I think, it would be a good sacrifice." You finish the last area, as he goes awfully quiet. "Like an offering to a god. I think…I think I wouldn't mind that."

His presence is more than clear behind you, strong and foreboding. "Do you mean it?"

"Yes."

"Do you trust me?"

"Of course."

"Liar. Everyone says that…" He scoffs. "…but, nobody means it. If given the chance…"

You hear a sound, sharp and strong, much like a blade. A pain blooms from your wrist, and you realize you're bleeding lightly - only a few drops of blood at a time. "They all run."

"No. I wish to stay by your side, my Lord. I have nowhere I'd rather be." When you relax and make no move to run, a big and warm hand engulfs yours.

"You…weren't lying." You feel lips against the wound on your outer wrist, and the swipe of a tongue against it before the wound starts to close. "You fool…"

------

Many in the estate didn't like you, jealous of how close you were to the Lord - but it wasn't everyone. Now, it was everyone. Rumors fueling jealousy and malice for the very obvious favoritism.

Taking little nibbles, you didn't want to take more than your share.

The food was beyond AMAZING. However, Sukuna simply scowls as you shyly keep your head bowed and you must feel his gaze harden by the way you flinch under it.

"I apologize. I just…don't want to take more than my share…"

"Do you mean to insult me? This entire meal is yours." He scoffs, grabbing your bowl. He grabs one of the sushi rolls and puts it against your mouth, which is still closed due to your surprise. "Eat. I won't accept this…whatever it is you're doing."

"O-oh, I-…thank you, my Lord." You open your mouth and allow him to feed you. Light blush forming from how good the food is. Yes, that was definitely why. "My compliments to the chef. This is beyond delicious, my Lord…"

And it was true, the sushi, the miso soup, selection of meats, everything tasted DIVINE.

"Compliments taken."

WAIT-

You nearly choke on your food. "I-I apologize…my Lord. I, you…for me???"

"Use your words."

"I mean, ah…" You shake your head, trying to recover from your mind going into overdrive. "You…made this for me?"

"Yes." He says it so plainly.

"What…what for?"

He doesn't answer and, for once, looks unsure. "I…I don't know."

------

When you came out of his chambers unscathed the second time, everyone - except for Lord Sukuna himself and his servant - went into a frenzy. The servants were appalled, the courtesans were fuming, and you made sure to steer clear of everyone who now seemed to loathe you. And, soon enough, all your duties were either with the head servant, with Lord Sukuna, or by yourself. Still, you didn't feel safe in the estate anymore.

Then, one night, the head servant came to your quarters, stating that "Lord Sukuna has requested I take you to his chambers."

If you weren't going to die physically, you would die of embarrassment.

Still, you followed the white haired servant to his chambers, entire form trembling as you nearly stumbled over yourself. Sukuna glances you once over, and can't help the snort that escapes his lips. You looked like a newly born fawn with how shaky your legs were.

"My sincerest apologies. I just…nervous…"

"That much is clear. Sit." Something is off and you can tell he's tense. "This probably isn't going to go how you're expecting."

You do as he says, sitting seiza in front of him. Something sharp is pointed to your throat, right where the artery is. Your eyes go wide, but after a little bit, you allow your entire body to relax. If you should die by anyone's hand, it would be his.

"Look at me." He commands and you look up, seeing him holding a spear of sorts. For the first time, you see him - truly see him. His form beautiful, terrifying and divine all at once. Your eyes and body must show your adoration, because he looks away - as if uncomfortable.

He shuts his eyes, and the spear is repeatedly pushed against your neck, as if trying. However, it never follows through. This was so easy for him, and yet…

"My Lord, if I should die today, it would be the greatest honor for it to be by your hand." Your body relaxes, eyes close and you lean into the blade of the spear. Sukuna tenses, and you feel it in his hold. "If it's by your hand, my Lord, I can only die happy."

"Yes. That much you've made clear." You hear him sigh, tired and defeated, as the spear drops to the floor. "To think this is how I'd lose…how pathetic…"

"M…my Lord?"

"Leave."

You see him, frustrated and defeated, and it makes your heart ache to see him like this. Without even realizing it, your hand reaches out and stops just before touching him. "Might I stay for you? Please, I only want…"

His glare nearly has you frozen. "THIS is how you want to celebrate a victory over me?"

"No, my Lord. I only wish to stay by your side and help how I can."

He's quiet, clearly upset. "Do what you will with me. I might as well be worthless like this anyway."

"Never to me, Lord Sukuna." You take his hand in both of yours, and bring your lips to his knuckles but he quickly pulls his hand away.

"What?!" He snarls. "What use is your loyalty to someone like me now?"

"You are my Lord, Sukuna. I serve you…" Your eyes meet his, full of longing and concern. "Anything I can do to help you, please let me…"

His eyes briefly glance at your quivering lips, leaning in without realizing before he turns away with a click of his tongue.

"Leave."

And you do as you are told.

------

"How is Lord Sukuna?"

Was one of the most frequent questions you'd pester the head servant's ears with. They roll their eyes. "He's not frail, you know. You don't need to worry about him like a mother hen."

"I just…it's been a week since I've seen him! If he doesn't want to see me, that's fine, but…I-I'd at least like to know if he's okay…" You sigh. "And what I did wrong…so I can avoid doing it again!"

"Just give him time to process." The head servant states nonchalantly. "This is new territory for him."

------

The silence was…

Awkward, to say the least.

Not a word uttered as he continued to paint those stupid edible weeds in the candle-light. It was already late…

"A-ahem." Your voice breaks slightly when you clear your throat, and you feel his gaze on you. "M-my Lord, if there's nothing else, I shall retire for the night."

"Stay."

What.

"Don't make me repeat myself." Clearly your reaction was evident in your body, and you choke on your words before they even get out.

"That night was my first defeat." He says, as if sensing your question, yet you hear a tired and heavy sigh. "As of now, it's been my only one."

"But…have you been okay, my Lord?"

"Always about me, hm?" He scoffs, and there's tension as his footsteps grow closer. Your eyes meet his, beautiful and terrifying, when his fingers gently tug your chin up - guiding you to look at him. Guiding your body to the mattress as he cages you underneath him. "And why not just claim your victory? I have no right to complain. Isn't that what you meant to do the night you defeated me?"

"What? No! My, Lord, no! I-I'm sorry. It wasn't-I didn't mean-It's not what you think! I could never-" Your hands cover your mouth - shocked at the implication. "Oh Lord Sukuna, I bow to you! Only you! I-I will never, could never, force something like that on you! Not then. Not now…"

"Good. This was getting overwhelming." He sighs and then promptly rolls off you, plopping down to your side. Though your skins were still touching and, for once, Sukuna didn't mind someone this close to him in this way. He was relaxed, as if his worries melted away. You couldn't help the smile that grew. This was the Lord you know - a walking death and calamity, now pacified. You both face each other and he can't help but look away, cracking under the weight of your loving gaze - full of adoration, concern and awe.

Weak.

He was weak.

"Lord Sukuna, may I?" Your hand reaches out to him, stopping just before reaching the wooden part of his face. He was so terribly beautiful.

"Do as you wish." He mumbles, and you gently hold him - even though he doesn't show it, you can feel him tense.

"My Lord, what's wrong?" There it is again, the weight that makes him feel like he's breaking without being broken. "I know you don't need it, but I only wish to help in any way I can…"

His mouth opens and closes several times before he's able to finally find the worse. "You've broken me. Made me weak…and I can't even curse you, or wish we'd never met because I'd be lying."

You chuckle. "My Lord is far from weak."

"Yet I am powerless against you." His four eyes bore into you, in them a mix of desperation and longing, as you gently stroke the wooden part of his face. Finally, he closes his eyes, relaxing against you. "And I never thought defeat could feel like this…"

"Is it pleasant, my Lord?"

"It is…" You feel his fingers tracing along your collarbone, up to your jawline and you feel something wet licking your skin as his hand rests on your throat. A mouth on his hand, gently licking and suckling on the sensitive parts of your neck. "…but only if it's you."

"Lord Sukuna…" Despite everything, you feel he's still tense. "You're tense. Would you like me to…?"

"Yes. I meant to bed you tonight, but this…it's…" He sighs. "Overwhelming. I'm not clueless, but something about you makes it all…too much…"

"Then let me lead, my Lord." You gently push him down, and he lets you - following you as you guide him. His hand takes hold of your chin, pulling you in so your lips meet his. His kiss was tentative and unsure, or perhaps more accurately, scared. Scared of every feeling that threatened to overthrow him. You eagerly massaged your lips against his nonetheless. "Please…allow me to worship you tonight, Lord Sukuna."

His breaths become heavier when you straddle him, gently undoing his kimono while he easily rips your clothes to shreds with a flick of a wrist. Your lips mark his skin gently. Moving down to worship his mouth, jaw, his shoulders, both chests and finally to the mouth on his stomach - who was breathing just as heavy. Sukuna tenses when you take his tongue into your mouth, sucking on it and explore the much bigger one with your smaller tongue.

When you pull away, there's a small pool of saliva where the stomach mouth lay open and plenty on you where the mouth-hands had left their marks on your skin. Both his cocks, beautiful, heavy and fat, sat on his stomach where they were already leaking with arousal. Sukuna's breathing turned heavy, and as your hands move to his waist, stopping just before doing anything, you look up at him. "My Lord, if at any time you wish for me to stop, please say so. I will stop without hesitation or question."

"Always about me…" He chuckles and, in a sudden movement, easily manhandles you so your ass is on his stomach-mouth. "No, I do not wish to stop. But if you truly ask for nothing in return, then let me be gracious."

"M-my Lord, ah-" Your eyes roll back when you feel that giant tongue lapping at the rim of your hole, the both of you moaning as he did so.

"Delicious…" A hand finds its way to your length, giving it lazy strokes before a mouth opens up and begins licking you - before taking you in. The heat of his mouth felt absolutely divine. The mouths on his other hands suck hickeys and bite the skin of your neck, while they find the sensitive nubs on your chest and harshly tug at them with teeth and lips, too. You hear a noise that's half-way between a whimper and a moan. "…everything about you…so delicious…"

"That's it, my Lord. I'm yours tonight…" You sigh, mind in bliss as your hands find his cocks. He bucks his hips when you begin to stroke him - slowly, before building to a steady pace. His cocks were thick and fat, heavy and veiny and monstrously beautiful in all the ways that had you nervous to take him. They throbbed eagerly, dare you say even aching for your touch. Bowing down, you take one of his tips into your mouth, careful not to let your teeth get in the way. The way his tip had pulsed and the amount of arousal you had to swallow down, had you moaning and whining happily as you swallowed his cock. Amidst the low growling of his stomach mouth, you hear a noise that's halfway between a whimper and a moan, and feel him buck his hips into your mouth as you lick and suck on him eagerly - tongue, lips and hands feverishly worshipping Sukuna's heavy, monstrous lengths.

The tongue begins to enter you, and you nearly cum on the spot - choking on his cock. Slowly, it reaches deep, deep enough to hit that spot that has you seeing stars. When you continue to moan, Sukuna's hips move on their own - tip fucking your mouth while you drool and stroke him.

You both get lost in pleasure. His large tongue tastes and moves eagerly inside you, practically assaulting that sweet spot as the stomach mouth continues to growl and whine and drool. While you eagerly suck on and stroke his twitching and throbbing lengths and he returns the favor, albeit a little more sloppy.

A guttural moan escapes Sukuna's throat when he releases into your greedy mouth, and you do your best to swallow everything he has to offer while his other cock paints you in white. Drool, precum and his seed still leak out your mouth, though - and you quickly find it's too much. Before you can stop yourself, you release into the mouth sucking you off - ass clamping down on the large tongue inside you as it continues to move inside of you, well past your high. You cum heavy into one of your Lord's many mouths, and it gags on your cock - the sensation making you spurt more into the mouth that greedily tries to swallow everything.

His tip leaves your mouth with a sloppy and wet pop and with a groan, both tongues take one final lick before retracting back. You both are breathing heavy, shaking a little as he repositions you to face him. His hand caresses your face, eyes completely dilated as he makes a noise somewhere between a moan and a sigh.

"Oh, gods, look at you…"

"My Lord, I-" Your eyes widen a little as you struggle a little in his grasp. "Wait-"

"Have you forgotten who you answer to?" He clicks his tongue. "You are in no position to make demands of me."

"I…answer to you, my Lord." You still, realizing what he was asking you. "I'm sorry."

There's a small silence as you look away bashfully. However, when you glance back at him and are met with a frown - there was the sudden realization of an unsaid question waiting to be answered. He hasn't moved at all. Immediately, you explain yourself, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. "I-I'm still a bit sensitive, is all…but I-I still want this! Truly, my Lord! I-I want…I want you, still."

Your voice comes out a little higher than you would have liked, but it seemed to quell him nonetheless.

"As am I, but…" He sighs and before he looks away, you capture his lips in a chaste but wet kiss.

"I know." You bite your lip bashfully and your voice comes out soft and sweet in all the ways that make his cocks twitch. "But, I did promise to worship my Lord tonight. I shouldn't make a promise I can't keep."

When your hands begin to stroke him again, slow and gentle, Sukuna practically throws his head back, biting back a low whimper while his stomach mouth shamelessly groaned and panted. He cursed as his hips began to move on their own, muscles tensing as his cocks grew hard again. Yet when your eyes lock he only sees adoration and longing in them as your hands worshipped him diligently. Not the empty lust he saw in everyone else who wanted him this way but could never get close.

"You look incredible like this, my Lord." Your voice comes out raspy and full of longing, and it tears a near animalistic sound from him.

"Enough." He growls, and you immediately stop. "Let me inside you."

"Anything for you." A mix of arousal, anxiousness and excitement overwhelms you as you climb on top of him, positioning yourself so his bottom cockhead kisses the entrance to your ass - readying you as it spurts those large trickles of precum. The both of you share a guttural groan as you sink down on one of his cocks, the free one throbbing delightfully in front of your own length. Sukuna was massive, to say the least, and despite how dripping wet he was your legs were still shaking from the wonderful strain. Although, your gummy insides took him in eagerly while being stretched to their limit.

The initial pain of the stretch was nearly drowned out by how wonderful he felt inside of you - fat and veiny cock completely filling you, dragging deliciously along the inside of your ass. You could feel him his arousal leak inside you, lubricating you plenty, and his length pulsing like a second heartbeat. And when you fully sheathed him inside of you, you both almost lost the ability to think properly.

"S-Sukuna, my Lord…" You'd be embarassed by how shameless you sounded with your Lord now fully inside you, his fat mushroom head leaking on and throbbing against that sweet spot. His hands rested on your hips, keeping your bodies joined with a messy puddle of arousal underneath you both. Sukuna's eyes were rolled back and fluttering slightly while his stomach mouth was open with his massive tongue lolled out, making a noise somewhere between a low growl and a whimper. Seeing him like this nearly sent you off the edge.

"O-ooh, gods…" He groans when he feels you clamp down on him, and a hand pulls your head into a clumsy kiss. You feel his breath turn into full on panting when he tasted himself on you, the hands on your hips now painfully digging into your skin as he begins to thrust up into you - sloppy, slow and languid, as if trying to get even deeper and split you apart. Your free hands, once caressing the wooden part of his face, now move down to stroke his free cock - earning you a low growling from the stomach mouth as it started panting.

"Oh, you feel heavenly, Lord Sukuna…" As if encouraged by your words, his thrusts start to get faster, harder - a steady rhythm beginning to build. "That's it. You're doing so well, my Lord."

"Ngh, ah…" Your Lord made such sweet sounds.

Neither of you were going to last long, it was all too much.

"A-ah, it's so good my Lord…" The pain had long subsided, replaced only with ecstacy. Sukuna's fat and heavy cock dragged along every part of your insides, and the feeling of the warm arousal dripping from his tip and the throbbing of his veiny length had you near screaming into his mouth. Your Lord was completely filling you and leaving no part of you unloved. While your ass, already sloppy and wet with Sukuna's arousal, desperately sucked him in every time you and him moved, only to be rewarded as he thrusted back in and you bounced back down on him, wet velvety insides squeezing him tightly as if never wanting him to leave. Without you even realizing it, your body was unconsciously and sweetly worshipping and loving your god. "I love you, Lord Sukuna!"

Something in Sukuna snaps upon hearing those words, which were otherwise empty - had it come from someone else.

"I want to taste you." He practically whimpers into your mouth as you both pant and continue to knot tongues. The kiss is clumsy, inexperienced, but you were far too lost in love to care - exploring your Lord's mouth eagerly while you struggle to ride his beautiful, monstrous form. The tongues on his mouths sucking, biting and tasting your skin; marking every bit of your body they could. This would hurt, but you didn't care. You only wanted to show your god how much you loved him. "Let me taste you…"

"Yes, my Lord. Anything-" This would hurt, but you didn't care - only wanting to show your god how much you loved him. "Anything you wish of me…"

With the flick of his wrist, there's a sharp pain on your tongue and a metallic taste floods both of your mouths - there's not enough damage to fully cut off your tongue, however, only a cut.

"Swallow me." Sukuna's breath hitches as he continues to kiss you, letting out a noise between a growl and a whimper, and you realize that it wasn't only your blood in both of your mouths. An offering of a devotee to their god, and a god to their devotee. You eagerly swallow each other's blood, moaning into your mouths as you share the messy, bloody kiss.

"Y-yes, keep going my Lord…" You continue to encourage him, as one of his hands moves to take both of your lengths and stroke them together. You and Sukuna both throw your heads back and nearly yell as the mouth on his hand opens up and swallows the both of you - tongue working eagerly on both your tips while your hands work on the shafts. "Cum for me, my Lord. Please…"

His thrusts get faster and harder, and you bounce on him just as fervently. What was once a steady rhythm has now turned sloppy as you both rode each other into your high. Sukuna reaches his orgasm with a choked yell, and you reach yours with a scream - bodies tensing as you both get lost in each other and neither of you stop moving. His warm and thick seed floods your insides, far too copious and spilling over. Your ass spasms and clamps down on him, almost painfully milking and sucking him in, desperately trying and failing to keep his overflowing love inside. The mouth that held both of your cocks greedily tries and fails to swallow all of the overflowing love as you and Sukuna both cum heavy into it.

It feels like forever, but you eventually collapse on top of him - both of you too tired to pull out of either hole. Though the mouth that held both of your cocks still lazily licked up at all the overflow. Minds completely muddled neither of you could think, bodies shaky with the high and tranquility of post-orgasm. There was nothing but the sound of your breathing for a while, before he silently cups your face and you feel the sting on your tongue disappear. With shaky hands, you touch your tongue and find the cut was healed.

"Thank you for sharing your blood with me, my Lord." You bury your face in the crook of his neck. "If I may, might I stay the night?"

"You'll be staying here every night, from now on." Without realizing it, his lips reach your forehead. "And for the rest of eternity, you will never leave my side."

"Yes, my Lord. I swear it." It was one simple, powerful vow that had you staying by his side for the rest of your life…

And made you return to him, in every life after.

-----

My GAAAHD was this difficult to write. Not the writing part itself, NO. But finding the time for writing. YEEESH. Anyways, have a great day!

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x male reader #jjk x gender neutral reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna x male reader #sukuna x amab reader #my writing

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