#kinktober mention

[kamari333]

Kinktober 2022 Ship List

I'm gonna put the undertale/UTMV ships of my kinktober 2022 here:

Horrortale Sans / Underlust Sans

Dancetale Sans / Underfell Sans

Dr33mtal3 Nightmare Sans / Xtale Sans

Swapfell Papyrus / Underpatch Sans (G)

Bittybones Sugar Plum / Mafiatale Sans*

Reapertale Sans / Underlust Sans

Dr33mtal3 Papyrus / Dr33mtal3 Dream Sans / Dr33mtal3 Nightmare Sans

Grillby / Papyrus

Dancetale Sans / Underfell Sans / Underlust Sans

Dancetale Sans / Something New Sans (Killer)

UndeRNG Sans | Falsi / Underlust Sans

Swapfell Papyrus / Underfell Papyrus

Dr33mtal3 Nightmare Sans / Mafiatale Sans*

Burgerpants / Doggo

Gaster / Sans

Dancetale Sans / Underfell Sans

Underfell Papyrus / Underlust Sans

Dr33mtal3 Nightmare Sans / Swapfell Papyrus / Underfell Sans / Underswap Papyrus

Underfell Sans / Underlust Sans

Sans / a fucking machine

Bittybones Sugar Plum / Mafiatale Sans*

Vegetoid / Reader (You)

Dr33mtal3 Dream Sans / Underlust Sans

Dancetale Sans / Underfell Sans / Underlust Sans

Dancetale Sans / Fellswap Sans

Sans / ??? (unknown person)

Fellswap Sans / Underfell Sans / Underswap Sans

Fresh / Underlust Sans

Sans / ??? / ??? (unknown people)

Sans / ??? / ??? (unknown people)

Dr33mtal3 Asriel / Sans**

I'm not too outgoing this year but some of these are pretty rarepair of me uwu

* Catsitta Edition

** Specifically "Nightmare" Sans, but due to the nature of Dr33mtal3 as an AU, and the specific time this chapter takes place, it probably isn't really recognizable as being "Nightmare" so much as just Sans.

[yuutasprincess]

Day 4: Toge Inumaki

Word Count: 1.9k Warnings: Dubcon, spit, thigh fucking, he cums in you, readers kind of mean but not on purpose

If someone were to ask Toge what he likes about you he’d stay quiet. It isn’t that he has something against you, but god do you know how to bend him. He’s wrapped around your pretty finger, hearts in his eyes everytime he hears your name. It all began as a simple crush, a consequence of spending so much time in the company of only two women—Maki, who often scolded him relentlessly and adorned him with fresh bruises every other day, and you, the sweet girl who would tenderly mend his injuries while flashing a mischievous grin at the new blue marks forming on his skin.

Though perhaps "sweetest" isn't the most fitting descriptor for you. It's just too tempting for Toge to resist your playful provocations. A gentle touch on his elbow to draw him nearer, a flirtatious flutter of your eyelashes in his direction, and a few sugary words are all it takes to have him eating out of your hand. There may not be a clear label for whatever dynamic exists between the two of you. While officially declaring Toge as your boyfriend would bring a semblance of normalcy, the thrill of being tantalizingly out of reach is simply too irresistible.

He wants you so incredibly bad, craves your praise, yearning for your attention with a desperation that knows no bounds. Toge isn't entirely sure how things escalated to this point. Maybe it was that one haunting night when you slipped into his room after a particularly grueling mission. He woke up with heavy-lidded eyes, swollen lips, and a throbbing neck adorned with telltale marks. All he had to remember that night was a bad hair day and the lingering taste of you.

The thing about Toge is that he doesn’t outright show his attraction around others. It becomes less fun teasing him when a group is present, his countenance remains stoic, with a subtle quirk of his eyebrow at most when you take the seat next to him and place a hand on his knee. Beneath his collar, an unnoticeable flush creeps up, a nod in your direction and eyes flicking to whoever else is around him. 

His biggest struggle is when you slide in next to him when everyone goes out to eat, fingers sneaking between his thighs to paw at his hardening cock. You’re so evil, stifling a laugh behind your drink while he’s slumped in his seat acting as if he’s hiding a smile when really he’s trying not to cum his pants. You don't make it any easier for him afterward either. No, you send a sweet, taunting kiss his way and give a playful wave to everyone before being the first to make your exit.

In his mind, there's an extensive catalog of every tantalizing thing you do to him. He imagines you desiring him just as fervently as he longs for you. He thinks about how good you’d feel most of the time, sure he’s been between your legs. Eating you out as if he’s been starved, pretty fingers digging into the skin of your thighs and lips wrapped around your buzzing clit. But god, he’d do anything to fuck you. 

Toge's love knows no bounds; he would willingly follow you anywhere, simply to bask in your presence.

Late-night snack runs are Toge's favorite, frequently evolving into moments that leave him craving for more. So, when he hears a knock at the door, he's quick to throw on his jacket and meet you in the hallway. Maki has a hankering for something spicy, Yuuta's got a sweet tooth, and Panda's in the mood for anything crunchy. Toge, on the other hand, holds no particular preference; if he's lucky, you might reward him with a lingering kiss for shouldering the bags of snacks. 

As you walk side by side, the world seems to blur. Your shoulders brush against each other, and his fingertips ache to interlock with yours. He hears your words, but he's not truly listening. Something about Maki discovering a new coffee spot for your group, and while everything you say is undeniably interesting, when he's in such close proximity to you, essentially breathing the same air, his ability to focus is gone. 

“I had a dream last night…” it drowns out, his eyes reading your lips to give him an excuse to imagine them wrapped around his- “You were in it.” Ok, now he’s listening. 

His head tilts, marked tongue slipping out to wet his lower lip. “Wanna know what happened? I can act it out for you.” you tease, feet abruptly halting, you grab his arm and pull him into a nearby alley,

You guys never make it to the convenience store.

Lips meet lips, and for Toge, it's like drowning. The kiss is everything to him, a fervent, messy exchange of emotions mirroring the depths of his feelings. He can't help but wonder if you can feel just how much he wants you; it seems impossible not to know. His hands find the back of your neck, his slender fingers gently pinching at the skin of your nape, prompting a scoff from you but he quickly pulls you back and slips his tongue to meet yours. It’s overwhelming, he forces himself to breathe through his nose, his every exhale is your inhale as he won’t let you separate.

You’re patting his chest, tongue licking at the roof of his mouth until he groans and you can part. “Wow-” and he’s back on you. “Toge-” Tongue trying to slide back into your mouth. “Hey! Toge-” You have to force yourself out of his hold, lips chasing yours as he whines low in his chest. “Come on Toge, let’s go get the stuff then we can continue this…” But he knows you too well, knows you’ll just tease him at the store. 

You’ll talk candy in his ear and cling to him, maybe give him another intense kiss then you'll part ways, leaving him in a state of torment until the cycle begins anew. Toge is caught in the endless loop, unable to bear the longing any longer. He wants you. 

"Stay," his voice, so seldom heard, sends a shiver down your spine, leaving your knees weak. You barely hear him speak outside of his curse, and when you do, it lingers in your mind for days. You can see everything, feel the intensity of his touch, but as he said, you don't move. You remain locked in that moment, an unspoken agreement between you both. His kisses are feverish, marking the curve of your neck before claiming your lips.

It’s an odd sensation, having no control of your body as he slips your shirt over your chest, fingers sliding into the cups of your bra to pull your breasts out and pinch at your nipples. A shiver runs down your spine, his head bending down to spit on each tit before taking the left into his mouth and moaning. It’s everything he’s imagined, ok, maybe not exactly like how he pictured this happening. 

Toge drools all over your chest, cheeks flushed a deep red as he watches you, your expression is flat but he can see the way your eyes glaze over. The unspoken truth lingers between you both: you want him just as desperately as he wants you, and he knows it. His mouth leaves your nipple with a string of saliva that he breaks with a swipe of his tongue, fingers grazing your sides before unbuttoning your pants. 

His hands are shaky as he pulls your jeans down to your thighs, eyes dropping to the way your panties hug your pussy and the noticeable damp spot. His tongue feels heavy, throat itching as he resists the urge to rip your underwear off and tongue fuck you until his cursed speech breaks and you have to push his head away, desperate to reclaim a semblance of control. But he doesn’t do that. Rather, he slides your panties down to meet your jeans and he stands. 

Kissing you over and over until your bodies sway and he has to wrap an arm around your waist to keep you standing while the other pulls his pants down enough to let his leaking cock free. Pushing his sensitive tip between your thighs he rolls his hips, breathing heavily in your ear as he grinds against your pussy, arousal coating his length and precum sticky between your legs. 

It’s hard to stop kissing you, he’s sucking on your tongue, forcing your mouth open so he can spit into it before forcing you into a sloppy kiss where he can tilt your head back and make you swallow. Toge can't stop the whining and groaning, he wants to cum so bad but the idea of cumming inside you is too tempting. His cock slips into you with ease, your body forcefully relaxed as you stand still in his hold while he humps your shivering body. 

There’s so many things he wants to say, wants to praise you and tell you how deeply he feels for you. How if he could he’d fuck you everyday until your pussy is shaped to take only him. You’re so warm, walls clenching around him and cunt gushing with every thrust, he feels so sensitive, he’s never been so pent up. Toge could cum any second, his jaw tense as he waits for his speech to wear off so you can really react while he fills you. 

“Shit- shit!” you sound so good, so fucking sweet and breathless as he pulls you in impossibly tight. Arms circling your waist and lips finding your tit again as he sucks on your breast while you try to fill your lungs with air. His hips never stopping as he fucks you, thrusts quick with no specific aim, he can’t bring himself to pull out to the tip when you feel so good. Your hands pull at his hair, head thrown back and knees buckling as he bites hard enough to leave marks on your chest. 

What pushes Toge over the edge is the way you look down at him, head falling onto your shoulder and eyes staring directly into his. He’s so smitten, just a glance has him digging his blunt nails into your lower back and hips stuttering as he cums. And when you’re not cumming with him, body trying to catch up with the sudden control of your limbs, he's panting in your ear. “Cum.” and fuck, the way you soak his cock and tighten around him has his brain melting. 

When time resumes he has the nerve to look at you shyly, eyes wide and chin damp with his own drool as he softly ruts against you, oversensitivity creeping up on you. “Toge, you pervert” And you grin at him, that malicious teasing quirk of your lips that has him utterly ensnared. His cock twitches inside of you as he focuses on the white ring at the base of his length, he can’t look you in the eye. Too afraid he’ll cum just as quick again. 

“If you wanted to fuck me so bad you should have just said so.” this time it's you kissing him, he’s moaning into your mouth and cumming when you spit onto his tongue, his eyes squeezing shut as you grip his hips and force him to keep sliding in and out of your pussy, “Stay” this time, it’s you commanding him. Voice sharp as he bites his tongue and lets you use his body. 

Toge knows that you don't possess the same level of control over him that he exerts over you. But he’ll be damned if he lets this opportunity pass. And he knows Maki is going to give you guys shit when you come back in the early morning. But how can he complain when he's dreamt about this for so long. 

[m-ayo-o]

seeingdouble ɘldυobϱniɘɘƨ

KINKTOBER IV: DRUGGED starring: f!reader, megumi [25+], toji [mid 40s] synopsis: megumi is led down a dark path by his assassin father. his moral compass askew, lacking any real social experience, he's left to his own devices with a cute girl. thankfully, toji shows up in time to take control. warnings: murder, violence, spiking, drug use: narcotics + psychedelics. stripper!reader [who sometimes offers sex work]. virgin!megumi. restraints. choking. unprotected sex. incest [pussy sharing, dp, anal] guidance. non-con; reader starts to enjoy it [she is drugged] wc: 4.5k

⋆⁺/ don't like it? block it / do not interact i do not condone taking drugs. spiking is illegal. this is fiction

18+ EXPLICIT SEX | DARK CONTENT | HORROR THEMES

When Toji’s wife passed he managed to sell off his daughter to the notorious Zenin clan for a pretty penny, but decided to keep the ten shadows boy for himself. 

Without his wife, daughter and clan, Toji’s life spiralled out of control and he took Megumi down with him. 

Toji left everything behind, so did Megumi.

Toji became invisible, so did Megumi. 

He corrupted him and dragged him into a cursed life of killing for money. 

Leaving his boy in cheap, dusty hotels, Toji would go out to commit murder– it was as simple as grocery shopping for him, only returning home with his shirt all bloody and ripped. Young Megumi would eye his clothing curiously, his gaze wide and innocent, but would be too scared to utter a word. He knows his father has a terrible temper.

This routine continued until Megumi got older, into his late teens, when Toji thought it would be appropriate to start telling the young man about what he did. Then in his early twenties he started taking him along on his sinister missions, hunting. Lacking any formal education or training, he doubted his son would be of any use. 

But Megumi had become intelligent and strong in his solitude, reading for entertainment and experimenting with his powers, his shikigami the only life forms to keep him company.

Despite his independence, having Toji as his only guiding light led the younger man to have a somewhat twisted view on reality, and as far as sound moral judgement goes, he simply does not possess it. 

As an assassin, Toji likes a quick kill; clean and efficient, usually with a gun or a knife. He can get paid faster that way, delivering the body swiftly and avoiding any trouble.

But he’s noticed his son taking a liking to finishing his victims more personally.

⁺⋆

Another murderous evening had drawn to a close, their hands stained red once again, when he carelessly took his eyes off his son and their victim.  

A young, powerful sorceress who’d seemingly pissed off the wrong crowd. Still, a surprisingly easy target for the assassin in training.

“Megumi, s’time to go,” the older man wipes his knife and cautiously looks along the alleyway.

His son is unresponsive. 

Toji gets closer, squinting in the dark to find his hands wrapped around her neck. 

She’s still alive, barely, but clinging on nonetheless, fading in and out of consciousness. 

“What are you doing? Just– just fucking–” 

“Wait”

The younger man’s stern voice halts Toji from slitting her throat.

And he watches his son squeeze the life out of the young woman. 

His lips twitch when her eyes roll back. But still, his hand remains over her windpipe, feeling her pulse die when the last breaths escape her body. 

“Megumi. We need to go.”

His son finally pulls away, and they become invisible once more. 

Despite his grisly methods, not only did Megumi prove useful, but their missions also provided for some much needed father-son bonding time. 

So, with his son reaching 25 years old, they got into this gruesome habit together, becoming partners.

Another habit Megumi picked up from the older man was his tendency to visit strip clubs after their kill. They were great places to hide, especially if you knew the owners well enough. And Toji knew each and every member of staff in this place; the managers, the bar staff, the girls.

And he knew a certain pretty little girl very well indeed.

Despite his many visits he never made any inappropriate advances, only paid to watch you dance. Maybe a lap dance every now and again if he was feeling particularly self gratuitous.

You share few words, but seem to have a mutual understanding of one another. You know that he loves watching you, and you’ve come to like his stern demeanour and surprisingly respectful attitude, enjoying his ability to scare off creepy customers. He’s kind of like your personal bodyguard at work. You feel lucky to have met him.

Unlike some of the halfwit scumbags that frequent the club, he’s a real man. From his assertive, deep tones, those muscles, perfect for manhandling little girls like you, and those sharp eyes, staring as if he wants your body as much as you want his.

But you have no idea what he does for work– he almost seems nocturnal.

Then you notice that he starts bringing someone else to the club.

His younger brother? His son? You can’t tell. But you know for certain that they’re related as soon as they step in together– their hair is styled differently, but is the same absolute black. The strobe lighting illuminates different colours in the younger man’s eyes, but they have the same glare. Their faces are a slightly different shape, but they have the same wicked smile. 

How could there be two of him? One was already enough.

“Meet my son.” 

Oh. He might be the same age as me. You think, studying his features– bags under his eyes, more height than muscle, cheeks slightly sunken. 

His exchanges are awkward. He looks uncomfortable.

You offer him a dance, not knowing what else to do. You’re here to work, after all.

Toji pays for a private dance and you walk with his son to a booth, the older man giving him a wink and a devilish smile.

You draw the curtains and pause, looking at the way he’s fidgeting. 

“Got a girlfriend?”

“No,” he replies tersely, narrowing his eyes. 

You ask if he wants a lap dance, but he’s so hesitant that you just end up sitting next to him and chatting instead.

“So, do you enjoy working here?” he sounds less nervous now he’s gotten to know your name, at least. 

“Yeah, nice customers for the most part, but the hours are pretty long.”

“Same with my job– the hours, I mean.”

“You don’t work with the public?”

“Sort of…” he trails off, dark eyes darting over your features.

You notice, despite your clothing revealing most of your body to him, that he’s focusing on your lips more than anything.

“You’re um,” he takes a long pause, dragging his gaze back to your eyes, “very pretty.”

How sweet. Your eyes widen slightly, a smile forming on your lips. You’re not used to sweet. 

“Th-thank you.” you can’t help the stuttering– the way he’s looking at you with sudden intensity catches your tongue.

“Shall we–” you reach to open the curtain of the private booth, your arm caught in his strong grip, your body freezing. 

“You– you can’t touch me–” does he not know that?

“Sorry” he retracts his hand, fiddling with his fingers. 

“You change your mind or something?”

“No, I just wanted to… look at you, for a little longer,” you turn to face him again, “if that’s ok.”

So you nod and sit down.

He has a hungry look in his eyes now– he starts with your face, your eyes, in fact, making incredible, unwavering contact until you can’t take it, your pupils darting away to his amusement. Then he finds your mouth, and the way you’re chewing the inside of your cheek.

Then your neck, where he focuses intently on the slow thrum of your jugular. He licks his lips, making you squirm and wish he would’ve accepted the lap dance.

His gaze darts over the rest of your body and you watch the clock tick over to midnight, signalling fifteen minutes and the end of his private… whatever the fuck this was.

“Time’s up.” You stand and reach for the curtain, feeling his eyes remain over your figure as you step out and waltz back to the changing rooms. 

You get off early tonight, having a final smoke with your colleagues when you see a text pop through from Toji. After exchanging numbers months ago, he barely contacts you, only asking where you are if you’re not at your regular shift.

[00:14] Toji 

Come over?

You’re surprised he’s asking. 

You’re tempted– after all, it is for Toji. You’ve been wanting him to reach out to you, thinking that he would’ve made his move much sooner. Every cell in your body is telling you not to do this, but you ignore the feeling, finding his hotel.

You enter the room– luckily for you, in a slightly nicer establishment than usual– still, one that is filled with the smell of alcohol and cannabis, the TV blaring on some late night gambling channel.

So they sit you down, welcoming you into their little games and bets, offering you hard liquor and joints till you’re tipsy. 

After Toji’s multiple visits to your workplace, and seeing you at other clubs with your friends, he knows you’re into all kinds of drugs. 

He caught you with white powder under your nose on one occasion, your pupils the size of the fucking moon another night, and with a blunt hanging out your mouth after work one evening.

He’s seen it all. He knows you’re a fiend. So… what’s the harm in pushing you a little further? Surely you can take it.

⁺⋆

Your eyelids are growing heavy, your body slumped on the floor against the coffee table while you stare at the TV in stupor. Their joints were just so packed it's nearly finished you off, and the last few drags tasted kinda funny.

“Can we tie her up now?” 

You’re not sure if you heard that right, swivelling in the direction of the voice and blinking in disbelief.

You turn to find Toji with his legs spread wide, slouched back on the sofa where you left him, while the younger man stands holding some kind of cord in his hands. 

Your eyes widen, your mind jolting awake when you see the way he pulls and grips it, stepping closer to you. Your body lags. 

“Mm” Toji grunts, not taking his eyes off the TV. 

Megumi takes this as permission to pull you up and drag you to the bedroom, your legs stumbling after your body, your mind succumbing to panic. 

His hand tugs at your wrist, while you’re distracted by something strange in the edges of your vision. It’s subtle to start with, colours fading in where they weren’t before, shadows starting to move. 

You try to ignore it, blaming the weed and flickering lights playing tricks on your mind.

You’re pulled from your daze when Megumi jerks your arms roughly, your vision readjusting to find yourself on the bed, your wrists forced to the frame in a tight knot of coarse, black rope.

“Mm– Megumi,” your voice comes out more slurred than you expected, confusion crossing your features, “w-what’re you doin’...”

“What does it look like?” He shoots back, his sharp tone making you recoil.

“I, I don’ know– jus’, w-where’s Toji?”

He watches your eyes dart about, enjoying your fearful expression.

You notice a sinister glint behind his indigo irises, his face looming closer and starting to cloud your vision.

You’re squirming now, pushing yourself up the bed, trying to distance yourself from him. But he keeps coming.

“Stay still…” he stops your motions with a single cool hand closing around your ankle, dark eyes trained on your throat again.

Time stops still when he leans in and places a single, chaste kiss over your neck.

He does it slowly. Gently. As if you’re the only one he’d kiss like this. His silent intensity makes you tremble.

He pulls away with a pleased hum, the feeling of your heartbeat making his lips tingle, his dark mess of hair illuminated with a dull halo.

He’s not too far gone. You could still go back.

“Y-you don’ have to do this,” you stumble, your voice cracking.

“I know,” he presses another kiss over your jaw, becoming ravenous now he can almost smell your fear, “but I want to…”

His voice disappears into the crook of your neck, where he starts sucking and tonguing.

He wants to taste you.

There’s a deep ache inside you now, gripping at your heart and filling your lungs, where it spreads to your throat– to where you can feel his mouth over you.

Nobody has ever kissed you like this before.

The way he sucks and bites is cruel, your body starting to flood with pain. If he does it any harder you’re sure he’s going to taste your blood. He’s going to puncture your neck and let it spill.

“M-megumi– please–” your whispered sobs only urge him on, till he’s dragging his canines over you and sinking them into the soft flesh.

His impassioned movements finally ebb as he switches to tending your marked skin with his tongue and lips, inhaling your scent deeply.

He sits up now, looking longingly into your tear stained eyes, his pupils drifting to where your lips are quivering with his name.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he lies, stroking your ankles gently.

Standing up, he watches you shake your head again, begging him not to go any further and that you’d anticipated being with Toji tonight, asking where he is again.

“He’s a little busy…” he cranes his neck to ensure his father is still transfixed by the TV.

“Plus, you should be grateful,” he tugs off his belt, “you get to take my virginity.”

Your eyes fly wide, your mouth dry and gulping for air stupidly.

Just the way he looks puts you on edge– and now you know he has no experience, you can’t begin to fathom what he’s going to do to you.

“Nn-no– thought, thought Toji w-w–”

His next movements are too swift for your idle, drug induced brain to comprehend.

He’s over you, your arms twisted uncomfortably above your head, his cock nudging at the sweet bud of your clit.

That’s the only ‘foreplay’ you’ll be treated to before he slots himself up against your tight, unprepped entrance, shoving your dress and panties aside.

“Toji!!!” you cry out for the older man, “Toji, god–” but your voice is interrupted, choked by his cock sinking into you, hard and deep.

The man before you has changed, his resting scowl paling in comparison to the now fierce arch of his eyebrows.

Why are you crying for his father when he has everything you need right here?

“Ah– haah—” you shake and squirm, struggling with his untamed, crude thrusting.

Your head flies back when he pushes deeper still, slowly working your raw pussy open to the shape of him, while he watches fresh tears trickling over your waterline and gathering beautifully in the corners of your wide, glassy eyes.

“Hm,” he lets a little laugh escape, enjoying your quiet sobbing and whimpering as he gets rougher and dirtier, grabbing and marking your skin.

Your arms start to jostle and tug in the bindings, your wrists aching from the pressure.

“Untie me…” you sniffle.

“Untie you? But I haven’t even got started yet…”

He wipes the tears from your cheeks with his thumb, trailing his hand down your face and stroking the marks on your neck.

“Might untie you after I hear you scream,” he gives you an experimental squeeze, then leans closer, bringing his face down next to yours.

The way he’s talking has you wondering if he really is a virgin, your thought quickly dispelled by his hedonistic thrusting.

You can hear his shaky breath in your ear now, your legs lifting instinctively when you feel him haphazardly pressing on your g-spot.

“Yeah, open up f’me,” he whispers, sucking on your earlobe, his free arm encircling your head to cage you in closer.

You can feel his hips start to jolt unevenly. He’s close.

“D-don– don’ cum inside,” you beg, your eyes getting bleary as he constricts your windpipe.

You feel him smirking over your skin, speeding up his ragged motions, squeezing.

Your pained breaths consume him, urging him to crush your throat with a look in his eyes that makes you believe he’s going to take your life.

His pale, beautiful face hovers above yours, eyes enrapt by every miniscule expression of terror that passes your features.

“S-s—” 

Your voice is gone, you can only fight for breath now, your body succumbing to a helpless fit.

You struggle. Kicking. Hips bucking.

He drinks it all in, thrusting mercilessly now.

“You can’t do that to her.” 

You hear a sudden deep, booming voice, hands pulled from your neck, air flooding your lungs as you sputter and cough.

Toji takes his son’s arms and bends them behind his back, restraining him instantly and pulling him off you; out of you.

He lets the sight sink in for a moment, words failing him. 

Toji’s affected by the drugs and booze, but he can still get some kind of hold on this fucked up situation.

“Look. Just let me show you… what you’re supposed to do,” he drawls into the younger man’s ear before releasing him.

Sure, he needs to take responsibility. But he can’t let you go. Not yet.

You shake your head again, watching the younger man struggling with his achy, hard boner after being denied his first raw dogging orgasm.

His father readjusts you on the bed to his own liking, leaving you tied up and taking your thighs in his beefy hands. He dips his head low, lips skimming over your neglected clit. 

“‘M feelin’ hungry…” he mutters, proceeding to swirl his tongue through your heat, where his son’s cock was digging moments ago, humming while parting your labia and licking sensually at your little jewel.

However done you are with this situation, overcome with lightheadedness from your choking, you’re glad to at least be sent reeling through a few much needed orgasms.

And now you’ve had a chance to breathe and relax a little, you’re becoming aware of a shift in your consciousness. 

Your body is right here, in this moment, experiencing every fleeting detail in high definition. But your mind is somewhere else, overcome with a feeling of simultaneous presence and dissociation. 

The older man sits up, patting the bed for his son to join him.

“You ok, doll?”

He watches you look around curiously, taking in the room that’s now bending and changing before you.

“Think the lsd’s kickin’ in…” he mutters, “just lay back, promise we’re not gunna hurt ya.”

“The-the what?” you stutter, your hands starting to tense and grip in the restraints.

“Look, there were a few drops of acid in that last wrap, jus’ relax, ok?”

Fuck. You knew you shouldn’t have come here.

You let it sink in, taking a deep breath so you don’t lose your cool. You cannot let your mind spiral on this drug.

“That’s it,” he encourages you, “good girl. Jus’ let go.”

You give up trying to fight it, obeying his gentle tones, working past the nausea to find your mind and body entering a different headspace.

Reality fades in and out, feeling their tongues on you, one after the other, switching and exchanging till you’re unaware of what’s happening to you.

You can only sense their touch, submitting your body to the chemical pleasure.

Your clothes are torn off now, soft, deep words being exchanged until you feel them shifting around.

You feel the unmistakable nudging of a hardened cock at your entrance once more. Only this time, it slips through your folds easily, your slick hole welcoming the long, hard member.

You blink slowly, your vision wobbling as your mind enters a trance in sync with their rhythm.

“Megumi?” no, “Toji?” you honestly can’t tell, your faculties slowly dulling as the powerful drug takes over.

You reach out your arms hoping to discern who’s inside you, only for their body to move away as another frame enters your view.

You feel his cock sink in, hips rolling and stimulating your senses till you’re creaming and moaning around his girth.

“T-tojii–” you’re sure it must be the older man. He feels strong, manhandling you and pushing you wider.

But he pulls away too soon.

You focus hard, seeing both of them now, one figure in front of the other, one man guiding, the other following.

“...like this… take her… deep…” you can only make out a few words, wide eyes distracted by the scar on his lips.

But the way Megumi’s cock slides in is completely different than before– the feral jackhammering transformed into long drags, smooth and hard.

They exchange words, Megumi’s movements getting greedier until you feel his body consuming yours in a display of lust and passion so strong you let out a scream of his name.

The sound of your voice, combined with the grip of your pussy that’s drenched with the slick of a fresh orgasm, rips a groan from his depths.

You hear him panting and moaning, his thrusts getting sloppy, until he’s drawn out of you again.

That was close. You think, realising his father pulled him away before he could spill inside you.

Things are getting blurry now. They’re both over you, on you, in you.

With the surreal visuals taking over, your mind enters another realm while they kiss and fuck and share your body.

Spiky black hair, blue and green eyes flashing, hard muscles and sadistic smiles are all you can see.

Their images burn into your retina, becoming a blurred mirage of nightmarish beauty. 

A sight that you will never forget.

Now that Toji’s brought his son up to speed and you’re all wet, you honestly can’t tell who is who.

So you sink into it, enjoying the spiralling visions behind your closed eyelids while they draw waves of orgasmic pleasure from your body.

They bend and move you, pinning your legs back, pushing deeper, then onto your knees. You’re getting so absorbed in the trip now, the euphoric energy taking over, that you’re only partly aware that you’re being lifted.

You’re off the bed, you know that much.

You’re in a pair of strong arms. It’s Toji. You smile, your eyes clearing to see his roguishly handsome face before you.

“Hey pretty girl,” he places tender kisses over your lips, and you accept them with pleasure, “gunna try somethin’ fun now…”

You giggle, liking the sound of that very much.

He holds you, his massive cock melting into your core so deep he’s going to become a part of you, then slides his fingers over your ass.

You feel another body behind you. Megumi.

You turn, feeling his lips over you as well, murmuring sweet praise in your ear the whole while.

You feel him sliding over your ass now, through the wet juice of your pussy, pushing into the tight ring.

“Oh, oh my– fuck–” he edges in, his father thrusting slowly while urging him to be gentle.

“Haahhh–” you breathe out, your head falling back onto Megumi’s hard shoulder where he caresses your skin with his lips.

“That’s– that’s fucking good,” he hums in your ear, pushing himself all the way back while grabbing your ass.

They cradle you, thrusting in tandem, as you reach a new level of bliss.

Hearing them, feeling them takes you higher, until you can only sense their deep moans vibrating through you, the drag of their cocks.

Your thoughts turn slippery, losing focus on the world around you, wondering how you ended up here in the first place, realising that you don’t care.

Right now, you care about the man in front of you, tall and broad, scarred lip between his teeth with dark green eyes fixed on yours.

His ever sombre stare resides behind those fiery irises.

It captivates you.

Your body is convulsing with dopamine once more, slurred thank yous leaving your lips, and all you can concentrate on is counting the shades of green in his eyes.

Flecks of amber shimmer within the emerald, his lashes blinking slowly, eyebrows quirking.

“Watcha lookin’ at?”

“Mm, pretty,” is all you can muster at this time, earning a snort of laughter.

He mutters under his breath and starts taking you harder till you feel him pulling you off his son and pushing you down on the bed.

Your legs spread, wide and obedient, holding yourself by the knees while he takes your nipples between his lips, between his teeth.

“How many times s’that now?” he feels you clenching and bucking again.

You just giggle and sigh, stroking his obsidian strands in a dreamy state.

He hums with pleasure; you feel his nose dipping into your neck, where he places soft, gentle kisses, in contrast to his now animalistic pace.

Letting off hot grunts and moans, he finally spills his hot, wet cum.

He pulls away, his son entering your vision once more.

Angling your ass up, he guides himself in again, enjoying the way your tight muscle spasms around him, but takes him all nonetheless.

His hips get nasty, drawing whimpers from you until he nears his release, growling and sinking his teeth into your marked skin.

“Fuck– fuck–” you tug at his jet black spikes, encouraging him to take all he needs until you feel his hot load shoot deep into you.

“Ugh, oh princess– fuck me–” he sighs, strong muscles overcome with exhaustion as he watches your beautiful features relax once more.

You feel peaceful, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the way his hair hangs over those dark eyes.

Your wavering vision absorbs his graceful figure in all his glory, your mouth opening before your brain catches up.

“Art” you poke at his hardened stomach, earning a slight smile, “artist.” You look up at his father now, appreciating the view as he stands before you.

You giggle, laying back and focusing on the ebb and flow of your breath, feeling your senses leave you, your eyes resting as you enter transcendental sleep.

⁺⋆

You wake to find your body bare, but clean.

There’s no longer white liquid oozing from you– just soft, warm sheets and the fresh smell of soap.

You climb out of the bed, stepping to the bathroom, eyes still half lidded and hazy.

You look in the mirror, finding kaleidoscopic visuals in the reflection, where the glass bends and trembles.

But you can see your face. Unscathed. Unharmed. You look down. It’s just a few bruises. You’re fine. 

Despite their questionable methods, this has been a good trip… and you have to admit, a very good fuck.

So in your giddy state, you tiptoe out to the main room, watching their heads turn from the TV, grins emerging.

“Mornin’ honey,” Toji coos. It’s dark outside. You have no idea what time it is.

You step over to the sofa, sinking between the two men again, taking their lips and tongues while their hands roam and fondle your body.

You sit back, enjoying how they’re drawn to you magnetically, allowing their pleasure to fill your body once more while you ride out the most ethereal high of your life.

⋆⁺ [see you in hell]

toji | m.list

[veroniquesboutique]

Kinkvember Day 20 - CNC

For Kinkvember day 20!

Toge Inumaki x AFAB!Reader

Content warnings: AFAB!reader, female reader, CNC, clear consent, cursed technique usage, commands, face fucking m-receiving, unprotected, creampie, hair pulling, spitting, small mention of dumbification, very rough, small aftercare

18+ Minors DNI!

More under the cut

“C’mon, please,” You ask again, hounding Toge Inumaki as you follow him close behind down the hallway to the apartment that you two share. 

“Bonito Flakes,” He says harshly, starkly, and you frown at the tone because you know he’s telling you no for the umpteenth time. 

“What’s the worst that could happen?” You ask, and this time he stops and glares at you, his eyes shrinking in annoyed disbelief, and you shrug, knowing that he’s right, there’s a lot that could go wrong, but isn’t that part of the fun? “Okay, but I trust you!”

“Tuna,” He waves you off and continues down the hall, stopping at your door and fishing in his pocket for his keys. You offer yours, already in your hand, and he’s reluctant to take it until you lean over and unlock the door yourself. 

“It’s like you’re scared or something.”

“Salmon!” His exclamation sounds like yes, exactly!

You had been asking for a while for Toge to use his cursed technique on you. To tell you what to do and exactly how to do it. It seems like a win-win for all parties: he, for once, doesn’t have to watch what he says around you, and you get to see what it feels like to be on the receiving end of his (second) most powerful weapon while turning your brain off a little as he makes the decisions and expresses himself for once. He, however, deeply believes that it would be too dangerous for you if he even tried to use it lightly. You want him to prove it before you believe it.

“Toge, I-”

“Bonito Flakes.”

“C’mon, don’t you-”

“Bonito Flakes.”

You’re following him around the apartment now as he tries to set the mail down, put his shoes in the right place, figure out the process of coming home, already overwhelmed by the day, and you are right on his shoulder, refusing to drop the topic because this time you really feel like you’re getting somewhere.

“I just want you to listen to me,”

“Bonito. Flakes.”

“I want you to do it.”

“Bonito Fla-”

“It’ll be so much fun, just do it!”

“No.” Suddenly, his voice, so much deeper and commanding than his normal, controlled voice, booms through the apartment straight at you. His eyes are full of anger as the word hits you like a gust of wind, and you flinch, pulling your body inward at the sensation. It vibrates the apartment, knocking things off counters and forcing cabinets and ajar doors fully open. The entire place is silent once his declaration moves through the space, and almost immediately, he descends on you in concern. It’s clear that he didn’t mean to, that he wasn’t planning on doing that, that it must have slipped out.

“Mustard leaf? Mustard leaf?” He’s asking, holding out a hand to your shoulders and waist but waiting for permission to touch you. You wave at him, straightening out and shaking out the shock that’s tight in your body. 

“I’m alright, just surprised.”

He gives you a look that says he told you so, but that’s not what you mean. It’s never what you mean. To no one’s surprise, communication seems to be the hardest part of your relationship, but it’s always on his part. It never feels like he listens to you - really listens - and instead chooses to protect you, decide what’s best for you, hide you from the pain of his world. His intentions are so well-meaning, but sometimes, you want for a little bit more. 

“I trust you, so why don’t you trust me?” You finally snap, and he is taken a little aback by your tone.

“Tuna…”

“No, you don’t. You don’t trust me about me. Do you think I’m weak? Do you think I need saving from you? I’m fine; I’ve held my own this long,” The words start falling from your mouth quickly as they find each other, connect, and spit out faster than your brain can handle like monkeys flying out of the barrel. “You tiptoe around me like you’re some…some…some monster that I live with that can kill me at any second. Do you want to kill me? Are you trying to tell me that I am in serious, immediate danger around you?”

He thinks for a second. “Bonito Flakes.”

“Bonito Flakes, exactly, so why in the world can’t we just try to push the boundaries once? You just told me no, and I am alive. I’m fine. I feel great, even. I got to hear your voice, and it was so, so cool. So please, please can we try something else too?” You make your final plea, bringing his hands up to his shoulders as you lock eyes, and he mulls the idea over in his brain.

Finally, she shrugs, lifting his hands to the zipper on his jacket. “Salmon.”

“See you always fight me on the-” your brain stutters when it registers his words, “- salmon? Really?” And he nods at your enthusiasm, and when you finally get your yes, you don’t really know what to do. You never considered getting this far, and your brain goes into overdrive as he zips down his jacket to reveal his adorable cheeks and lips, the ones you rarely get to see if ever. It makes you giddy with excitement, and the words find their way back to spilling from your mouth. “Maybe, maybe, we can try this thing where I like pretend I’m not into it and don’t want it but you, like, force me to do stuff anyways by telling me I have to, and then like you get off on me doing the stuff and I get off on pretending to not want to do it-” Your eyes are dancing at the top of your lids, looking off into the ceiling as you consider the possibilities. 

As you speak, he sits on the couch, leaning back and watching you ramble on and on, until finally, he stops you.

“Kneel.”

[tumbleweed-run]

Raw

Kinktober Day 29 Breathplay 98% Bloodweave

“You’re going to die one day, you know, both of you,” Astarion announces, sounding petulant. 

Gale has long learned that tone is covering up other things, things the vampire isn’t ready to face. 

“Yes,” he says in agreement instead of arguing. They, he and Tav, that is, will die one day, hopefully far into the future. 

Astarion huffs and turns from the window, clearly annoyed with Gale’s answer. “And what am supposed to do then? Now that you’ve dragged me into,” he waves a hand around the room, “this.”

Tav stirs in her sleep but is otherwise undisturbed by them. Gale spares her a glance, hopeful she remains that way. It’s far too late to be having this conversation, but having it, they were. 

“No one dragged you. You were invited,” he reminds the vampire. 

Another huff. Those long-dead lungs are busy tonight. “It remains. What am I supposed to do then?”

“Live?” Gale suggests the obvious. He’s not sure what’s brought this on. Their mortality against Astarion’s immortality has never exactly been a secret. 

Astarion seems to consider that suggestion but then shakes his head, whether to dismiss his thoughts as a whole or the suggestion itself, Gale isn’t sure. 

“What if I can’t?” It’s said so quietly Gale might have believed he hadn’t really heard it at all, except the other man is facing him now, face uncharacteristically raw and expecting. 

“Then you’ll join us,” he says simply. 

Astarion is next to him now, arms crossed, looking angry. “You make it sound so easy,” he hisses, fangs bared. 

Gale resists the urge to roll his eyes, instead, he gently closes his book and deposits it on the table beside the bed. “It is, to a point,” he agrees softly, “you have only two options at that point. Each of us does.”

Gale isn’t one to pretend about things like this. He knows that if he lost them both, his grave would also be dug. He’d been willing to die for Mystra but chose to live for Tav. He doesn’t think his life is without its own merits, but there is little hope his heart would continue to work if he’d lost them. Luckily, depending on how you viewed it, they were all far more likely to go out together, be it through some accident or adventure. 

If he had to choose a premature death, that’s his choice. 

Astarion seems almost able to read his mind as he asks his next question.

“What would you do?” his voice is back to soft, but he seems deflated now. 

“If I lost you both?” Gale asks, but Astarion doesn’t answer. He’s standing so close to the bed that his thighs are touching it. He’s turned his face away from Gale. “I would follow.”

This proclamation doesn’t seem to please Astarion. His face pinches, and his arms cross again. 

“I think,” Gale says, carefully reaching out to grab one of the vampire’s hands, pulling it towards him. “That if I lost one of you that I would survive, we,” he emphasizes this with a tug of Astarion’s hand, “would survive. It’s a hurt that we could shoulder together.” 

Astarion’s eyes are guarded when he finally looks at Gale, but he takes it as a good sign when the other man doesn’t rip his hand away. He’s unnaturally still for some time, and Gale lets him think. Then, it’s in a sudden flurry of motion that Astarion climbs his way into Gale’s lap. 

“Astarion,” Gale gasps out a warning, looking next to them to make sure that, in his haste, Astarion didn’t knee Tav in the face. 

Astarion looks then, too, and when they find Tav still sleeping, he starts moving again. “She’ll forgive us,” he whispers before his mouth descends on Gale. 

Gale grasps the vampire’s hips and holds on. There’s little else for him to do. Astarion is nearly frantic with the way he presses kisses against his face. His fangs aren’t minded, and Gale knows he’ll look like he got into a fight with a particularly feral cat come morning. 

Astarion breaks away from him, only long enough to rip Gale’s shirt over his head. Then he’s back for his skin. He dives for Gale’s Netherese mark, back bent in a painful-looking fashion. When the vampire’s teeth break the skin there Gale knows it's on purpose. He hisses and jumps but otherwise allows Astarion his attack. He stays there focused until Gale is hesitant to look down, convinced his skin will be flayed open.

The relief of Astarion letting up from his attack is brief as his lips return to Gale’s. Gale makes an attempt to return the kisses, if they could be called that. He tries to soften Astarion’s movement, hands smoothing up the other man’s sides. Astarion will not be gentled tonight. Instead, he sits back abruptly, one hand flying up to bracket around Gale’s neck. 

Instinctively, Gale reaches up to grasp at Astarion’s wrist, but his brain catches up before he shoves him away. The vampire is just holding his hand there, not actually putting any pressure. It’s a warning, and somehow, given his current state, it’s a request. He looks at Astarion, chest heaving as he waits for something. The scholarly part of Gale is curious if his regression back to human tendencies is related to all the emotions he can see swirling in Astarion’s eyes. He’s not about to ask, very much aware of their current position. 

The part of Gale that is nothing better than any man is aware his cock is already so hard it hurts. He wants to reach down and feel if Astarion’s in the same way. He’s almost certain he is. Beneath the near-feral look on his face is a look Gale’s come to recognize. But again, he does nothing. 

That must be Astarion’s cue because his fingers twitch as he gradually begins squeezing at the sides of Gale's throat. Gale allows it but keeps his hand on the vampire’s wrist. If this is how Astarion plans to kill him, no amount of shoving at him will help; Gale knows this. Yet he doesn’t move more than to relax his body against the pressure. 

His ears have begun ringing when Astarion releases the pressure, though he keeps his hand ringed around Gale’s throat. Gale inhales deeply for a moment but barely has time before Astarion is kissing him again. At least this time, he manages to keep his fangs in his own mouth. Gale leans up to return the kiss but comes up short, the the hand around his neck refuses to move or allow him to. 

It’s Astarion who moves, one hand working to open his trousers. Gale takes pity on him and helps. Together, they manage to undo them, and Astarion finally moves his hand as he somehow manages to shimmy his pants off. Either he wasn’t wearing underwear, or he took them off with the pants. Gale can feel his cool skin through the thin fabric of his own sleep pants.

The hand is back around his neck almost instantly, and Gale sighs. “Is this how it’s going to be tonight?” He asks. 

His response is in the form of tightening fingers. They squeeze harder this time and hold well past when the ringing in his ears starts. Gale’s vision is beginning to fade around the edges when Astarion finally releases his grip. He’s much greedier this time when he sucks in air, his gasp audibly. The rush of blood as it returns to his brain leaves him feeling lightheaded and almost giddy. Astarion slides himself forward on Gale’s thighs until their cocks brush against one another. Gale gasps and rocks up into the sensation. 

Almost as soon as his skin stops buzzing does Astarion begin again. Gale grabs at the vampire’s hips and holds. He’s at the same place when Astarion releases. This time, Gale’s hips roll up immediately. Astarion’s eyes rolling back is the first thing Gale can see as his vision clears. He roughly keeps grinding their cocks together. His hold on Astarion’s hips much tighter than usual. There is likely to be bruising in the morning, to match the still stinging marks on his own skin. 

Gale’s the one who groans when Astarion pushes up onto his knees to create a gap between them. He quickly shoves Gale’s loose pants down until his cock springs free. Astarion looks at it for a moment with the same hungry look he often gives to strangers’ necks, and it makes Gale shiver. 

He moves quickly and Gale’s hands on Astarion’s hips are the only reason he’s able to push back against him. “Stop,” he grinds out, “you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Good,” Astarion rolls his eyes and tries to slam his hips down once more. 

Gale realizes he’s losing and barely manages the incantation for oil before Astarion manages to win. The other man curses as he realizes it’s not a total victory. The oil coating Gale’s cock eases some of the discomfort he’d hoped to cause as he slides down onto it. It’s not his best spellwork, but given the circumstances, Gale is proud of himself. 

A little too proud, apparently, because Astarion’s hand flies back to his throat and squeezes immediately. This time, Gale leans into the pressure, locking his eyes with Astarion. Neither of them moves while Astarion chokes him, both of them frozen in this tableau. It’s only once he’s release that Gale thrusts up. 

It’s enough to knock Astarion off balance, which is a testament to his current state of mind, and he collapses forward onto Gale’s chest. Gale hesitates only long enough to see if Astarion is going to tell him to stop. When he doesn’t protest, Gale grabs at his hips and begins fucking up into him. Astarion is almost limp against him and Gale thinks about pushing him back up, to check on him, when he feels the brush of fangs against his already battered neck. 

He tilts his head in invitation. 

Astarion wastes no time in biting him. Gale has to restrain his thrusts in favor of not accidentally ripping out his own throat. Instead, he settles into rolling his hips upward gently, allowing each movement to drag Astarion’s cocks where it’s trapped between them. The vampire swallows mouthfuls of Gale’s blood noisily. 

It's gone on long enough, and Gale digs his thumb into the crease of Astarion’s hip. Astarion makes a startled noise and pulls back quickly. There was no grace or elegance to the way he was feeding, and there’s a smear of blood from his chin to his nose. Gale can feel a small trickle of blood going down his neck and onto the pillow beneath him. Astarion’s eyes zero in on it, and he raises his hand one more time and presses his fingers against the bite marks. Whether he’s trying to be helpful and stem the blood or just fascinated with the mess, Gale isn’t sure. 

Gale doesn’t care. 

He begins thrusting up into Astarion once more, no longer constrained by the risk to his own life. Astarion makes little noises, grunts that sound punched out of him, with each thrust. He keeps his fingers pressed against Gale’s neck. 

“Why do you let me do this?” Astarion asks after a moment.

Gale groans, only a little frustrated, but when he properly looks at Astarion, he slows his movements. For the first time since the other man finally spoke tonight, his eyes are clear, and he no longer looks frenzied. 

“You know why,” Gale tells him. 

Astarion shakes his head, “no, I don’t.”

Gale sighs and closes his eyes for a moment. “Because I trust you,” he says truthfully once he reopens them. 

Astarion’s eyes narrow on him. “Why?” He pushes.

They’re doing this tonight, Gale realizes. There’s no way to side-track the vampire so they can have this conversation at a more reasonable hour, in more reasonable states of mind.

“Because I love you,” he admits, feeling a little like he’s admitting defeat.

Astarion’s hand grips his neck roughly, harder than at any other point tonight. “Don’t,” he growls, there’s wetness growing at the corner of his eyes. 

Gale can’t do this again, he realizes almost immediately. His neck is too bruised already, and this time it hurts, badly. Not to mention he’s lost not an insignificant amount of blood, and what little he has left is trapped painfully in his cock. His fingers move as this realization washes over him, three sharp taps against Astarion’s hip. 

Astarion lets go immediately, hand flying back almost as if burned. Gale keeps his hold on him, in part for his own stability but also to keep him from fleeing. Astarion sits rigidly, looking at him. 

“Do you want to stop?” It’s Gale who asks. 

Astarion sags a little but shakes his head. Gale wants to continue, his arousal hasn’t flagged, but the gnawing in his gut prompts him to smooth a hand up Astarion’s back and ask again. “Do you want to stop?”

Astarion nods but refuses to look up at Gale again.

Gale easily maneuvers Astarion up off of his cock and frees a hand just long enough to pull his pants back up. Astarion allows himself to be pulled back against Gale’s chest and doesn’t argue when he wraps his arms around him. Gale realizes they’re both still covered in sweat, blood, and cum but right now they need this more. He’s tense for a moment, waiting to see if Astarion argues against this. When he doesn’t, Gale relaxes back against the pillows. He even manages to find a corner of the covers and pull it over them. 

He finally spares a glance at Tav again and isn’t surprised to find she’s awake. She’s watching the two of them quietly, and when she sees Gale’s looking, she gives a short nod. 

“I do love you,” Gale says to Astarion, who seems less rigid against him. “We love you,” he amends, looking down at Tav.

Astarion makes a noise like he’s winding up to argue, but Gale rubs his hands against the vampire’s back over the blanket as he continues. “It’s okay if you can’t hear that now, but it’ll be there when you’re ready.”

[thewritersaddictions]

Day Nineteen: Jim Hopper + Uniform

There's something about Jim, and that's before you come to the sheriff's department to bring him lunch one afternoon.

You and Jim had been dating for a few very good months now, but you had yet to see him outside of the fancy restaurant Enzo's, at his cabin, or when you took little trips and stayed in a comfy little bed and breakfast.

You had just been yearning to see him in his whole get-up. Wanted to see if he stretched out the sheriff's shirt like he did the nice flannels he wears to Enzo's or how he stretches out the jeans how he does the sweatpants he wears.

You were in a dazed thought as you pulled into a parking space in front of the sheriff's department. You aren't sure how long you'd been driving while making up dreams of what Hopper might be looking like this afternoon.

When you walked into the department you had excepted it to be crowded and filled with life, but it really wasn't. You looked out the window realizing that you might have come at a bad time. You walked towards the front desk. An older woman stood up, "What can I help you with dear?" The older woman asked.

You look down at my purse and the lunch bag you had locked in your hand. "I was… I'm wondering where I might find Sheriff Hopper?" You asked in the strongest of voices. Her face contorted for a slipt second then she just had a realization. "You must be Y/n, I'm Florence, Hopper's secretary." You release a breath that you hadn't realized you were holding on, so tightly.

"He'll be back in a few had to pick up a troubled kid, you can wait in his office," Florence says to you. You walk in stride behind her trying to keep up with the older women. Florence opens the door for you, and you turn. "How do you know me?" You ask her, She smiles "Hopper talks about you a lot even if he's not that much of a talker." With that Florence is gone, and you're left in Hopper's office.

While you wait you get his food out of the bag, placing it on the right side of the desk, and you start to look around at the walls of his office. Pictures, and photos with special people around the town when Hopper had become sheriff.

“I’m not bookin' you, son, I’m just gonna call your uncle.” You hear Hopper talking outside the office. You panic for a moment and jumble around to get into the seat across from his desk.

The door opens wide and with a pounding force on the other side. Hopper doesn’t notice you at first not until he goes to sit down and he sees food, and then your beautiful face.

“What are you… FLORENCE?” Hopper shouts. She walks fast to the door. “Oh, I forget to tell you that Y/n was here.” She leaves. Leaving Hopper standing there with a dumbfounded look on his face.

“You were gonna call somebody? Do I need to leave?” You ask him. He looks down at you. Anger and confusion melt away. “Oh hell no, stay here and then I can have lunch with ya sweetheart,” Hopper says. He settles down and reaches over for the phone.

It’s a rather short conversation with “I understand” and “It won’t happen again.”s added to almost every single other thread of conversation.

“Now let me get back to you sweetheart,” Hopper says. His voice was deeper and thicker. He gets up to the chair squealing with the weight coming off the old springs. “Stand up sweetheart,” Hopper says shutting his door and his blinds. “For privacy love.” He assures you.

You stand up. You had worn a little sun dress, one that gave off the curves of your body. Exposing most of your skin to the afternoon sun. "Do a little spin f'me." Hopper's voice is husky, sending shivers down to your core. As you spin the dress flutters up exposing more of your skin to Hopper.

"God'damn, you are so beautiful," Hopper mutters mostly to himself. You smile timidly. This is new territory. You want to ask Hopper to do a spin of his own. You want to see how he looks in his whole uniform. The light brown doesn't clash with his skin, rather makes his blue eyes sparkle.

He reaches out his hand for you to take. "Come sit on my lap?" He offers, and you take his hand. He walks softly to his chair getting comfortable before dragging you into his lap. Hopper's one thigh becomes your seat.

You talk and Hopper eats.

Hopper can feel your heat seeping through your cotton panties into his work slacks. It's driving him insane as you innocently talk about the garden behind your house, and how the kids that you do story time with at the library today were so good at listening today.

Hopper bounces his leg, bouncing you ever so slightly up and back down. You don't say anything about it at first. You nibble at your own food, not really hungry for food right now. Maybe Hopper reads your mind, or maybe something else gives it away.

Continuously Hopper bounces his leg, giving a few sharp bounces, and a few loose and slow ones. Trying to gather some sort of rhythm, that's good for both you and his leg.

Hopper finishes up the food you delivered to him, but he doesn't want you to go just yet. You go to get up after Hopper had thrown his trash into the can across the room. A large hand pulls you back down.

"Don't go just yet, baby," Hopper whispers. You nod and stay put. The bouncing of his leg hasn't stopped only getting better and better. The vibration and the force on your clit hitting the muscular thigh make your eyes go crossed. "I can feel your heat through all these layers," Hopper whispers into your ear, as he pulls your back into his chest. You try to look at him as your head rests on his shoulder.

"Jim…" a strangled moan falls from your lips. You don't ever call him by his first name unless you have far long gone in your mind. Lost to the power of your euphoria. "Are you enjoyin' yourself?" Hopper asks in a sultry tone. You moan, and press your lips into his bread-covered jawline.

Your imagination could never meet the reality of what and how Hopper feels in his uniform. You can feel the hard metal of his buckle digging into your back, but you welcome the pain of it. "Answer me, sweetheart." Hopper demands of you. "Yes… fu… yeah JIm I…" You're having a hard time expressing yourself as he grinds his kneecap into your clit. Wet panties sticking to the material of the slacks. "I bet you are sweetheart. I can feel how wet you are. You gonna make yourself cum on my thigh baby?" He whispers to you.

Your mind was already frizzy and frazzled, but now it's white-hot blank. You see nothing but the euphoric feeling that pumps through your body. You shift needing more pressure, or attention. Hopper's hands are held around your waist and pressed flush into your breast.

Your hands land on the crumb-covered part of the desk. Knuckles going white, and eyes closing tightly as you get just the right amount of pleasure from the hard muscle between your thighs. "Oh, sweetheart…" Hopper mumbles, "I can feel you, gonna cum baby? I know you are, god you're so beautiful." Hopper words are hot and push you over the edge.

Cumming through your white cotton panties and all over his uniform slacks. Your body leans, and lumps over the desks. Chest rising and falling as you try to catch your breath. Hopper's large hand sprawls against your back as he rubs deep, and meaningful circles into your back to calm you.

"Fuck Hopper…" You mumble out, "Did you come just for lunch, or where you think' about somethin' else." You chuckle a little, "What… I got a little hot from your sheriff's uniform." You say back, not yet lifting yourself from the desk. "Good to know sweetheart."

Completed: 07/29/23

Posted on: 10/19/23

Kinktober '23- @lanad3lreyscokewhor3 @homelanderscumdump @hummusxx@chvnsdimple @vvitzvafflezvv @lokisivy @claud-blood0703 @iliketoreads-stuff @all-that-glitters-is-treasure@clearscissorsbonkgiant-blog @lxonix--ac @piecesofx @mortallyswimmingpainter @playwithfire99 @fucak @everythingneytiri @lovetheos @xxxxxoseungxoooo @durazopato @hotpead42069 @oddseabiscuit @capoda @witching-hour @viviwows @lover103 @alexlovesfiction @katiecat10 @electricfans @jianasmind @max-505 @powerbun21o @the-horny-simp @missy420-0 @jaq-dav @arescosplays

Stranger Things Master List // The Elders Master List // Kinktober '23

[venusandsaturnsrings]

★彡 raspberry sorbet

synopsis: moving beyond the realms of friendship, Ajax smoothly beds you. infatuated and aroused, much like him, you indulge in a night of intense intimacy.

contains: 2.5k words, afab/fem reader, chubby reader, stalking mention, slight dubcon, f!receiving oral, blood sucking, aphrodisiacs, and p in v.

clandestine or otherwise naught, your meetings with Ajax remain amidst the dark. though bathed in the shadowy depths, it was impossible to ever truly feel afraid with his unbeating heart against your own. subzero fingertips and eyes reflecting the slightest bits of light, he was a sight sure to scare anyone unaware of his true nature; gentle. Ajax only ever touched you with cotton-soft hands and his teeth never close enough to so much as graze your skin. he had once indulged you that the distance between your skin and his mouth was not borne of repulsion but rather due to the crimson beneath. he could smell it from far away, saccharine and raspberries he said, to be so close had his muscles pulsing. never would he feed on you but the flow merely a scrape away from his own watering mouth was enough to have his head spinning.

it was turning into a miserable night. clouds pouring with enough rain to revert any drought and lighting crackling along the darkened sky. akin to ropes of silk, your disappointment was interrupted by mere wonder at the gorgeous display of light using the night sky as a canvas. your thoughts wandered to Ajax, ‘perhaps he’s fond of this weather?’ mentally you noted to ask him once he’s reached your home, though, it may as well be his home as well at this point considering how much he spent lounging around the space. a telltale rattle, a noise only possible from his nails, came from the glass separating your window from the cruel weather beyond.

unlatching and opening, Ajax awkwardly wiggled his way in forcefully and proceeded to hit the floor rather hard in his attempt to get out of the downpour as fast as possible. he huffed when his face made contact with the hardwood but stood up quickly with a crooked grin and shook himself of similarly to a dog. maybe he’d be a doberman? you scrapped the idea. with the floor now as wet as himself, Ajax slumped his body over to fully wrap you in his gangly arms, successfully soaking you as well in the process. the thought of being upset didn’t cross your mind as his affections were always endearing regardless of how much they ruined your clothes. he rubbed his cheek on the top of your head with a happy sigh and tightly gripped your waist, soothed from his run in the rain by your warm presence and body heat. fingers tugging at his drenched clothing, you urged him to take it off out of fear he may get sick, neglecting that it wasn’t possible for him to fall ill due to his biology. Ajax conceded regardless, stripping the wet cloth from his skin after making his way to your bathroom and piled it all upon the counter in a ball of dark jean and cotton.

“you’re soaked now too, only fair you strip down as well, sugar,” though the tacky pet name made your nose wrinkle you reluctantly followed. this wasn’t the first time he’d see you naked considering the way he liked to peer through your windows. despite his unsettling tendencies, it was near impossible for you to mind, simply brushing it off as his lack of social understanding from a life of incredible solitude. the reality was he fawned over your bare skin and often let his imagination go to work upon returning to his own makeshift home in the early hours of the morning. Ajax found you utterly tantalizing. now both fully nude, you filled the bathtub with warm water and lavender epsom salts. he had once commented on a candle you had burned, saying it smelled divine so you started purchasing only scents of lavender. curls of steam rose alongside the familiar floral and Ajax sighed happily from behind you. letting him sink in first, you followed to which he guided you to rest against his chest. small waves lapped at your chest and his torso where you both relaxed; warm. his fingers massaged along your scalp and neck, his chin rested on your shoulder. hands dancing along your skin, they gradually dipped along your arms before teasingly squeezing your chest. a yelp from you followed, jolting away from his body and turning to glare at the clearly amused ginger who quickly pulled you back against him. he hummed and rubbed his cheek against yours, mumbling something about how adorable he finds you.

“c’mon, let’s get out now my pretty blood bag.” you smacked his hands away from you and stood only to earn a sharp slap to the fat of your ass in return. you nearly whipped him with a wet towel but you knew his reflexes wouldn’t let that happen so you settled for scoffing at his lack of impulse control. once out of the water as well, Ajax helped to towel you off in a mock apology as he only took the opportunity to harshly grope you more through annoyingly adorable snickers.

sauntering back out to your bedroom, you rifled through numerous drawers to find something for both yourself to wear and for Ajax to finally clothe himself. you could only take seeing his lithe muscle and freckled skin for so long without turning into a puddle. a shirt and panties for yourself, some shorts and boxers you keep around especially for him as he never brings his own no matter the weather. it's almost as if he enjoys these intimately domestic moments with you? surely not. your mind looped back to the same excuse you always sowed yourself; he isn't familiar with the standards for relationships. friends don't strip and share baths together, skin to skin, and hands traveling across erogenous zones. friends don't intertwine their daily lives to the point of firm inseparability. friends don't look at each other the way he looks at you. and friends certainly never allow their bodies to press and pull the way Ajax is now doing to you.

hands pressed nearly imperceptible to your mid-section, he lead your body that was still yet to be dressed back with his own to gently seat you on the edge of the bed. he dropped to his knees between your own and gripped on of your hands to press a kiss to each fingertip as well as your palm. Ajax placed your hand to his cheek with a sigh and let his chin fall to the plush skin of your thighs, eyes closed. light lashes brushing along the tops of his cheeks with pale eyebrows furrowed slightly, an internal struggle obviously brewing. swallowing your words momentarily you admired just how gorgeous he is with somehow rosy lips, planes of ghostly skin, fangs permanently peeking past his mouth even when not fully dropped, and eyes a vast ocean of blue you're not sure you could ever fully decipher. you speak with a slight tremor, asking if he's alright or perhaps sick but your voice cracks over the word. time and time again you have to hammer it in your head that he can't get sick. 'Ajax cannot get sick. Ajax is not human.' a thought equal parts chilling and irritating. he hums.

"sick? maybe," his lashes flutter open to reveal that same sea you wished to dive in, to drown in. he pulls your wrist to his mouth, planting a kiss once more. "i think thats the word you'd use for it..." his words were barely above a whisper yet had a chill settling in your chest. is he messing with you? Ajax seems to pick up on your thoughts before you voice them, as per usual. "not sick in the sense of ill, sick as in 'lovesick'... do people still say that?" to which his lips traveled to your thighs where his head previously sat. you're hesitating mentally and physically. his slightly historic manner of speech was charming but a verbal admission of this nature wasn't something you had heard before. you could reason all the signs were there and, yes, you do really like him but the small spikes of insecurity clawed at your mind. "doll?" you hadn't noticed him call for you nor that his mouth stopped at the crease between your hip and pelvis. gulping and signaling him to go on, Ajax sighed, "cast away all doubts for me? enjoy the night while we have it, sweetness." you couldn't say you were relaxed per say but, you let him lay you back.

spine hitting the cool sheets and duvet, a shaky exhale left your lungs as Ajax kissed at your skin from your ankle to inner thigh. teeth still far from your skin, his slightly pointed tongue traced hearts across your flesh while his hands softly massaged your muscles to relax. with your legs over his shoulders, Ajax mouthed at the fat of your cunt as his drool slicked up everywhere it could reach. you weren't sure if the salivation was due to his desire of intimate flesh or that borne of your blood. all the same, he spread you open with long fingers and a low hum before licking from your dripping hole to your already sensitive clit. with a long life comes plenty of experience and Ajax makes that known with the way be begins to play your body like a piano. you imagine he'd give you an elaborate description, something about how you could be no less than a grand piano with keys of ivory. dwelling on your own little fantasies wasn't an option as he latched onto the pearl of your clit and prodded at the entrance of your cunt. his tongue drew shapes you couldn't recognize as he sucked along you in ways that already had you gasping and bucking desperately against his face. the hand not working itself into you slowly came to press upon your lower stomach, holding you down and giving him full access. his fingers gently stretched you open, curling and scissoring until you were keening and begging for him to speed up just that smallest bit more to reach your climax. you could feel him smile against you with his face thoroughly slicked up and, mercifully, he twisted his fingers perfectly along a harsh suck. neither alone or with another could you ever reach the godly pleasure he brought you. you clenched around nothing with an arched back and whines loud of his name paired with other nonsense. coming down from the sparks along your spine and trembling legs, you released his soft hair you hadn't even noticed was so tightly wound in your grasp. Ajax rested his cheek on your thigh once more with a smile though, this time, he was panting and his chin was soaked with the fluids that had leaked from you.

embarrassment couldn't grip you with the way he stood up and slid his calloused hands along all the skin he could touch. he gently repositioned you, with a strength you were still unused to, to be on your knees and elbows. he kisses along your neck and murmured small praises as he made sure you were comfortable for him. something about 'wanting to make this as painless as possible,' slipped past his lips but you didn't quite catch it through your post-orgasm induced haze.

"stay like this for me? you look stunning," his voice was still low and coated in a thick glaze of love. you nodded and made a noise of agreement before he lifted your hips a touch further and rubbed the swollen and leaking tip of himself against your still sensitive entrance. you whined and keened for him to which he soothed you through soft shushes and a hand rubbing hip. the hot touch of him sliding his cock along your cunt brought you to reality, though only briefly, and through your whimpers you questioned if he'd be putting on a condom. Ajax leaned down with a chuckle and shake of his head, "condom? what would i need that for, doll? you've been mine since the second you let me in your home." you could feel his teasing grin against your neck while he pushed himself in.

he wasn't exactly gentle but not rough. Ajax was attempting to ride the line between cementing your obedience and still letting you have that humanly sense of control. in his eyes, you're his the way you always have been but he's willing to cut a few corners in favour of easing you into a more subservient role with as little pushback as possible. he swallowed the saliva that had gathered in his mouth and, with his face pressed to your neck and cock pressed to your insides, he gently pierced you with his fangs. the slip of his fangs felt like a seering burn before a feeling of utter bliss washed over your body. it was almost like you had been moved out of your body yet you could still feel the movements of his cock and hands dragging all over you to pull as many orgasms out of your tight cunt as he could. slightly light-headed, you could feel yourself spasming around his dick and achieving a high that could only be described as heavenly. 'Ajax is not human.'

droplets of blood slipped past the small wound he had made and dribbled down your shoulder before being caught by his tongue. the taste was everything he imagined it to be, saccharine and raspberries, but perhaps it was you that made it so sweet, not some other factor like blood type or diet. only you could allow him a flavour so perfect against his palate and perfect along his cock. Ajax groaned into your ear, though to you it was heavily muffled, as he spilled himself into your clenching and already soaked pussy. hands roaming your skin and mouth planting further kisses, he worshiped your body in a reverent manner. as you now know his destined status as your lover and so kindly let him feed upon your blood, it would be wrong not to be the most devoted follower at your alter. he lovingly lathed his tongue across your neck till the bleeding had ceased and rolled you into his arms. between the blood loss and mind shattering fuck you had just received, consciousness wasn't going to last long. before you could slip off to rest amongst ruined sheets and Ajax's body, he whispered directly into your ear.

"you truly are a special girl. a feast for both my body and stomach," he paused to kiss where he had bitten to emphasise his point, "i will continue to protect you. i'm forever yours as you are mine, sugar." Ajax held you past sleep and into the morning, where he'd praise you once again, a sinner at your feet.

[ipegchangbin]

okay real talk theoretically asking for a friend etc etc

who would be willing to read nsfw comics? either for kinktober or for the foreseeable future?

ofc im still going to be writing regular fanfics and drawing fanart as is but i was thinking about it :)

just a thought maybe haha jk unless

[deanwinchesterscherrypie]

Inescapable

Kinktober Day 1: Dom/sub

Summary:

(Inspired by Dress by Taylor Swift) Dean, Cas, and Sam go on a small local ghost hunt while you stay at home. While you get the bunker prepared for them to come home, you can't stop thinking about your dom. Dean specifically ordered you to not be thinking of him while he's gone, but you can't help it. You miss him, and when he gets home, you think you'll show him just how much.

Words: 3,919

Kinks: Dom/sub, Rope play, light degradation, teasing, spanking, punishment

Relationship: Dom Dean/Sub Fem Reader

Content/Trigger Warnings: mentions of sexual assault (only in the first paragraph), mentions of a knife, smut, cunnilingus, p in v sex, fingering, dominant dean winchester

Notes: Read here on ao3! Full Kinktober Masterlist. I hope you enjoy :)

Dean. Cas, and Sam left Friday evening for a ghost hunt. Apparently, Old Man Milton only comes back once every 7 years on his daughter’s birthday to kill young men that sexually assault or harass young women. His daughter died by a violent sexual assault and was found in the basement of a fraternity house. He searched for the boy that did it to her, but the college covered it up. Now, he’s coming back for justice. You told Dean that they shouldn’t do anything. If it were your hunt, you would have left it alone. Those guys deserved to die, in your opinion. And maybe that makes you a bad person, but honestly, you’ve literally been to hell and back. You don’t really care if wishing a painful death on rapists is a bad thing. 

The only reason you didn’t attend this hunt with the boys is because the whole topic was just a little too triggering for you. Dean suggested you stay home, and Cas agreed that the emotional trauma it brought up wouldn’t be worth getting rid of the ghost. Sam offered to stay home with you, but Cas isn’t the best hunting partner when it comes to these small hunts. So, Dean asked if you’d be alright and insisted that Sam come with him. Cas is always one call away if you need anything, and you know that. 

On Sunday morning, you get ready to start your day with brushing your hair, doing your makeup, and picking out an outfit. You don’t have much to choose from, because it’s laundry day you’re washing all of the boys clothes along with yours. It’s kind of annoying that they expect you to do their laundry, and you pointed out once that you thought it was misogynistic to expect the only woman in the home to do laundry. But Dean came back with the argument that you were only doing laundry when they were out on a hunt without you. If they were the one staying home, they would do the laundry and you wouldn’t mind. Sam offered to do his own, but it didn’t actually bother you too much. You think that Dean’s just saying it to get you to do it, but you let them have it because he said it with a really cute face and puppy dog eyes. And they do so much for you that doing some laundry or cooking a meal isn’t going to kill you. You don’t exactly like falling into gender roles, but something about them being so appreciative every Sunday night when you make dinner and have them change into clean clothes is so sweet. 

So, you pick out your outfit: a pair of jeans and one of Dean’s flannels because it’s the only thing that smells like him, but doesn’t have blood on it. You take his load to the wash first, because you know when he gets home, you’ll make him change into clean clothes. You put on some music first. You listen to a lot of Led Zeppelin while he’s gone because it reminds you of him. Before he left, as always, he told you not to think of him too much. In a normal relationship, that would be sweet. A request. But in yours and Dean‘s relationship, it was a demand. Every hunt he went on scared you, every time he left the bunker, a chill ran down your spine. You wondered if you would ever see him again. You try not to think like that, and he demands you don’t think of him at all. You don’t listen. You never do. He knows this, and he’ll punish you when he gets home. That’s sometimes why you think of him. You enjoy the punishment. It’s nice when he takes control when he gets home. 

You finish putting his clothes in the laundry and go to the kitchen to prepare dinner for when they get home. It’s your week to prepare dinner on Sunday night. Every Sunday, you make everyone have a family meal at a table. Hunters don’t get to have a normal life, so this is as normal as it gets for you. You don’t have long before they get back, so you pull out all of the necessary ingredients and set them on the counter. Normally, you’d also be doing some research while they were gone. But this hunt specifically was one that lacked research and needed more gumption than Dean could ever gather. As you’re swaying to the music in the kitchen, the song “Dress” by Taylor Swift plays through your phone speaker. This song reminds you of Dean, but in a way that’s more playful than sexy. He likes Taylor Swift, your favorite artist, but he won’t admit it. Sometimes, you catch him listening to her in the shower, but he thinks you don’t know. Sometimes, you see him adding a song of hers to his playlist. As the lyrics ring through your head this time around, you can’t help but think about how teasing it would be for Dean to come home to tear your clothes off. He always requests that when he gets home, you are in bed with no clothes. You enjoy this usually, but tonight you’re feeling a little extra. 

You prepare the food, so all you have to do is cook them. You make homemade burger patties that need to chill, sourdough bread that needs to chill to make buns, and a pastry crust for the pie. You clean up and grab your keys. Before Bobby passed, he built up a car for you out of some old parts. It was a crap car, but it barely cost you. Bobby had a soft spot for you, so he would fix the car up for you anytime it broke down or something happened. Unfortunately, when he died, you had nobody to fix up your car. It was just your luck that you remembered meeting Dean Winchester, a friend of Bobby’s, a few years back. He and his brother were well known hunters, so you didn’t think he would have the time to help. But any shop would tell you that the car was more to fix than it was actually worth. They said it was unsafe and shouldn’t be driven. They didn’t have the memories you had with that car though. So you gave him a call, and you were lucky that he was in the next town over just finishing up a case. You two haven’t left each other alone since. 

You head toward a town close by to find exactly what you are looking for. You stop into a few stores before you find exactly what you wanted. A short, white sundress, complete with a cherry print scattered across the fabric. You check the price tag because unlike other hunters, you try to earn honest money when you can. You save as much as you can and invest some of it. The dress is on sale, which just lets you know it’s meant to be. 

You check out and head back to the bunker to get ready and prepare dinner. When you walk inside, you hear a ding on your phone. You pull it from your pocket to see a text from Dean. 

We’re on our way home, Sweetheart. About an hour out. Be ready. - DW

It’s funny that he signs his initials with every text, but it’s his thing. It’s how you know it’s really him. He told you to be ready, but you should really be the one telling him to be ready….

Yes, sir. 

You go to the kitchen and begin cooking the burgers. Cas doesn’t have an appetite, but he still sits at the table with us. He always compliments the food, even though he doesn’t actually eat it. His description of food is that it “all tastes like molecules” to him. But nevertheless, Sam and Dean still enjoy it when you cook. After the burgers are cooked, you put them on a pan to keep warm and take out the dough. You make some rolls and put them on a pan to bake. The pie will cook while you’re eating, so you go ahead and head toward your bedroom to change. 

You put on your new dress and put your hair up with some loose curls falling down. You touch up your makeup a little bit and add some red lipstick. It’s Dean’s favorite and it matches your dress perfectly. You spray on some Tom Ford’s “Lost Cherry” and make your way back to the kitchen. You check your watch and see that it will be about half an hour until they get home, which is perfect timing to go ahead and put in the rolls and start preparing the pie. 

Soon, the whole bunker smells like fresh bread and sweet, cherry pie. You put all of the clean laundry in the rooms. You set the table with a whiskey glass in front of both Dean and Sam’s seats and a courtesy glass of water in Castiel’s spot. You put a wine glass in front of your seat, and pull out the rolls to replace them with the cherry pie. You take out all the extra condiments for the burgers and put the sides on the table. The locks of the bunker do a familiar click, and you know it’s game on. You hear the low chatter of the boys discussing the familiar scent wafting from the kitchen. 

Sam walks in and sees the set table. He waves the other guys into the kitchen. 

“Is it Sunday already? Man, I’m hungry!” Sam goes to pull out a chair before your hand catches his. 

“You boys go wash up first. I don’t want blood and sulfur at my dinner table. Your clothes are in your rooms. Dinner in 5.” You smile and pat his hand. He laughs a little before wrapping his arm around your shoulders and squeezing a little bit. You smack his chest gently, and he laughs and saunters off to change. Dean’s heated gaze is focused on your legs, or more importantly, how much of them he can see. Your apron falls below your dress, and when you’re turned to the side, he can see that your dress barely covers your ass. He groans low to himself and raises his eyes to meet yours. Cas speaks up. 

“Thank you for putting together dinner. I appreciate it.” He smiles awkwardly before the dirt and blood disappears from his outfit. He hangs his overcoat on the rack in the corner and then settles into his spot. Dean’s gaze hasn’t left you, and you know exactly why. 

“All of this silence and patience, pining in anticipation.” 

“Something wrong, love?” You ask with your most precious voice. You know he won’t say anything in front of Cas. He treats him like a toddler, his child that he must watch over. It’s adorable, but at the same time, he watches himself around Cas. He doesn't want him repeating things. Dean doesn’t reply, but his face looks pained. You smile and wave him off to his room to get changed. He obliges, but you can see the tension in his back as he walks away. 

“Dean seems stressed. We got rid of the ghost. Why is he upset?” Cas asks you as you make Sam’s plate. 

“Because his wife is his wildest dream, and he’s mad he has to eat dinner first.” Sam laughs as he walks out in fresh clothes. He sits at the table and smiles up at you. “I mean seriously, come on, he came home to his wife dressed up with his favorite dinner made and pie in the oven.”

“But why would that stress him out? Shouldn’t he be happy that he has the terribly domestic life he wished for?” Cas asks as you plate the food in front of him. He won’t eat it, but he likes to have a plate to feel involved.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean walks to the table, “can you three stop talking about me like I ain’t here? I am not stressed. I am exhausted from a three day long hunt. Now, let’s eat. I’m starving.” Dean’s gaze shoots up at you as he sits down. You plate his food next, and then, your own. You sit down and everyone eats in silence. 

The conversation starts flowing once everyone starts getting full, and then, it’s time to take out the pie. You head over to the oven, which is right next to Dean’s seat, and bend down to get the pie out. Your dress rides up right next to him, so he can see your cunt soaking your white lace underwear. He groans and attempts to cover it up with a cough. You chuckle a little to yourself and set the pie down on the table. You take the boys plates and put them in the sink. 

“Sam, don’t forget. It’s your day to do dishes.” You nudge his shoulder. You set out more plates and serve up the cherry pie to Dean and onto your own plate. You are on one side of Dean, so you scoop up Sam’s piece and lean over Dean to place the pie on Sam’s plate. Sam shakes his head and chuckles to himself before digging in. Cas wanders off to the library. You sit back in your seat and take a bite of your pie. Some of the cherry juice drips off of your lip and onto your chest, where Dean’s gaze falls. You swipe your finger across the juice and stick it into your mouth. Your eyes close in ecstasy, and you make a small noise of happiness. Dean has yet another cough, and you open your eyes to watch him. He hasn’t even touched his pie.

“Dean, you haven’t touched your pie?” You ask him sweetly.

“Dude, it’s delicious. You picked the right woman.” Sam says as he goes back for seconds.

Dean nods his head and picks up his fork with shaking hands. 

“My hands are shaking from holding back from you.”

You all continue to eat before you both hand your plates to Sam to wash. You bid goodnight to Sam and Cas before heading to your room with Dean hot on your heels. You barely make it through the door before he catches your wrist in his hand and closes the door behind him with his foot.

“You disobeyed me.” He states. His eyes pierce yours with pure lust and determination.

“I made dinner.” You counter, reminding him that it was your week to make dinner.

“You know the rules, sweetheart. You know what happens when you break the rules.” A glint appears in his eyes, and suddenly, he begins walking toward you slowly. The backs of your knees hit the bed, and you fall backward onto the soft cushioning. “Tell me what happens when you break the rules, love.” His voice commands. 

“I get punished, sir.” You let out with a bit of excitement. 

“Oh, were you looking forward to this?” He chuckles deeply, “Of course you were. My pretty little slut loves it when I show her who she belongs to and where her place is.” 

“Yes, sir.” You nod your head and raise your hips toward him as he climbs in between your legs.

“Oh, do you want me to touch you?” 

“Please touch me.” You ask, waiting for his touch. 

He chuckles deeply again before pulling his knife from his pocket. You back up a little before his hand comes to the back of your neck to keep you in place. 

“Don’t run away from me, sweetheart. You just asked me to touch you.” His smirk says it all. “Do you remember your safeword?” He asks in your ear. 

“Yes. Cherries.” You giggle a little at the word and how significant it’s made itself today.

“That’s my good girl.” He says as he places the knife down on the nightstand next to your head. “Sit up.” 

You sit up quickly and wait for your next instruction. You don’t always have such an intense dynamic, but you both need intense when you’ve been apart for a while. 

“Over my knee.” You shiver at his words, but do as you are told. He lifts the skirt of your dress and rubs over the smooth skin of your ass. 

“How many do you think you deserve, darling?” He says to you as he runs his finger over the lacy fabric of your underwear. 

“I don’t know, sir.” You say to him while you try to grind your hips into his legs. He lays a smack on your ass, leaving a stinging feeling. 

“I think ten is fair. Two for thinking of me while I was gone, four for wearing this slutty little dress, two for teasing me at dinner, and two for grinding yourself against my leg.” You shiver again and nod your head in response. He lifts your chin and gets down in front of your face. 

“Words.” He whispers and bites your lip. 

“Yes, sir.” You bow your head as he lets go. His fingers travel downward until he reaches the soaking spot in the center of your underwear and presses in. 

“Oh, your pretty hole is so wet for me. I can’t wait to use you.” You whine as he retracts his hand. 

“Don’t make a sound or I start over. Got it?” He grabs a fistful of your hair as he speaks to you. 

“Yes, sir.” 

He lays the first smack and your body jumps in response. You feel your hole squeeze the nothingness. You know you’re in for it, and you just hope that he’ll have mercy on you and touch you soon. 

“Nine more.” You breathe in slowly, preparing yourself for nine more. 

Smack. You just want him to touch you. 

Smack. You’re getting desperate. 

Smack. Soon, you’re going to start begging. 

Smack. You don’t know if you can handle more.

Smack. It feels so good, but it hurts. 

Smack. Almost there. 

Smack. You’re going to come. 

“I know I don’t feel you grinding on my leg, do I sweetheart?” He chuckles before laying two smacks back to back. You let out a sound that is a cross between a moan and a cry. 

“Tsk tsk, what did I tell you about making sounds?” He asks you gently. 

“We- would have to start over.” You whine. “Please Dean, don’t make me.” You beg. 

“What did you just call me?” His hand wraps itself around the back of your neck and pulls you toward him.

“I’m sorry, sir.” You look up at him with pleading eyes. He looks back at you with pure satisfaction. You can feel his cock that's been growing beneath you this whole time twitch at the sight of you. 

“Two more.” He says, and he means it. You groan lightly, and you hear his light laugh at you. 

One. It stings, but he was more gentle than before. 

Two. That one is going to leave a mark. 

“Made your mark on me, a golden tattoo.” 

“Good girl. Sit up.” He helps you forward and reaches beneath the bed. He grabs two pieces of rope that you don’t remember putting there. He smiles mischievously when he sees your confusion and scoots you up the bed. “Arms.” 

You put your arms up and he ties each arm to the holes in the headboard. That is not what you were expecting, but you aren’t complaining. That is, until he rips your dress off of your body straight down the middle. 

“I only bought this dress so you could take it off.” 

“Dean! That dress was new.” You look at him with shock. 

“Well, I hope it wasn’t expensive.” He smirks a bit before dragging your underwear down your legs. 

“Please.” You push your hips up to him. 

“Please what?” He asks, his breath grazing over your slick cunt. 

“Please touch me.” You ask. 

“My pathetic little slut wants me to touch her pretty cunt? You want me to lick your pretty clit?” He spreads you apart until you’re completely exposed to him and glistening in the dim bunker light. 

“Yes, sir.” 

And that’s when he takes his change to shove his tongue deep inside your hole. He fucks you with his tongue, occasionally slipping his tongue out of your hole and circling around your clit. You can feel yourself squeezing around his tongue. His scruff scratches the inside of your thighs, and you just want to tangle your fingers in his hair. He flicks your clit quickly and shoves a finger inside of you. 

“Is this what you wanted, baby?” He asks as he continues to hit that sweet spot inside of you. His tongue feels so good as he continues his gentle assault on your clit. He moves in quick circles. Every now and then, he sucks your clit into his mouth. He slows his fingers and fucks you slow and hard. You like it like this, feeling every bit of him. His fingers curl up inside you to rub on that spot. 

“Fuck.” You can’t help the sounds that come from your chest. 

“You’re so fucking sexy, baby. See, this is what good girls get when they behave.” He taunts you, moving his thumb to your clit and his mouth to your sensitive nipples. 

You start riding his fingers harder, chasing the orgasm that his fingers are promising you. You close your eyes in pleasure. 

“Look at me, sweetheart. I want you to see me when you come.” He says, watching your every emotion. He switches out his fingers for his thick cock. He rubs the tip against your sensitive clit and has you whining for it. He pushes into you slowly, but that’s the only time he’s slow about it. He rams into you and fucks you hard. He is relentless and merciless. 

“That’s it, pretty girl, only I can make you make those sounds.” He whispers in your ear. Your arms pull against the ropes, but you’re unsuccessful at breaking them. You buck your hips toward him as you chase your orgasm. He starts rubbing your clit, and you feel it coming on. 

“Come for me.” He whispers in your ear as you let loose the orgasm that's been building inside of you. Your legs shake a bit and your back arches off of the bed. 

“Good girl.” He says as he slips his cock out and pumps it a few more times before rolling his head back and letting out a groan as he comes on your stomach. You love watching him come at the sight of you. 

He reaches forward to the nightstand next to you and grabs the knife. You look at him with confusion until he leans forward to your wrist. You realize he’s going to cut you out of the rope. You hear a scratching noise and attempt to look above you, but you can’t see. Suddenly, he cuts both of the ropes and lets your arms free. You rub your wrists and turn to see what he was doing. On your headboard, there is freshly engraved statement: 

Property of D.W. 

“Carve your name into my bedpost.”  

You put on a shirt of his and snuggle into your bed with him. He cuts the lights out, and as you’re drifting off to sleep, you swear you hear him singing Dress by Taylor Swift. 

[swampstew]

Killer, I-30 ~ Cum Eating

Summary: Hiking through the ancient lands of old and you get to experience a rite of passage - staying overnight in a real life wilderness hut - that will keep you safe from deadly terrors and beasts during the night. Does it work?

Warnings: Spicy, modern monster au, Killer as Biasd Bheulach with female reader, risky sex, fingering, oral (reader receiving), failed pull out method and cum eating, dead dove do not eat for ending cause murder is implied. Word Count: 863

Biasd Bheulach is a monster or spirit that supposedly haunts Odal Pass on the Isle of Skye in Scotland. It is said to be a nocturnal shapeshifter, sometimes a man, sometimes a beast. It’s believed to be the source of the frightful shrieks and outcries heard in the night. If you’ve ever asked what’s hiding in the dark, don’t be surprised to hear it’s the Beast of Odal Pass. There are accounts of travelers claiming to have been attacked by the beast as they traveled through the night. One alleged victim was found dead on the roadside with gory wounds. There have been few actual accounts of what the creature looks like so it is generally advised not to travel at night.

The handsome stranger had flirted with you all night and you had fallen for his charm. His big, muscled body was a delight to look at, his long and gorgeous mane of hair was enchanting, and every time you caught a peek of his crystal blue eyes, you could feel yourself swoon. Like a fairy tale prince handsome.

You and your friend group had been hiking through the land when it began to grow dark. And once the deep hue cleared the sky you’re spines prickled with fear when you heard wild shrieking that nearly sounded like laughter. Crazed laughter.

Finding a local wilderness hut, called a Bothy, your group tread quickly to the basic shelter in the hopes to avoid whatever that foul sound was. When you crossed the threshold none of you expected to find it already occupied by the handsome stranger. He introduced himself and explained he sought shelter when he heard the howling shrieks. He lived in the next town over and was travelling by foot but decided that for safety he would spend the night.

His name was hard to pronounce and didn’t have an easily international equivalent, so he settled for Killer when your friend’s boyfriend called him drop dead gorgeous. Killer was kind, gentle and well-articulated. It was easy to get along with him and feel comfortable around him quickly. Between the four of you, you had food and water for about a day and a half.

Killer informed everyone that there was a fresh water stream nearby and offered to go with her boyfriend, but your friend insisted she would go with as there was no bathroom in the shelter, just a spade to dig in the dirt.

As soon as you were left alone with him, he pounced. You eagerly accepted his brazen advances and soon you were both rushing towards the shoddy second story loft space for privacy. Despite the…rugged…quality of the shelter, it served is purpose.

You were writhing in pleasure as Killer removed his thick, calloused fingers out of your weeping cunt. You whimpered at him with pleading eyes and gave him a satisfied hum when he unbuckled his pants. He fucked you raw and you loved every second of it. Dripping in sweat and huffing the humid air with each breath you shared as he pistoned into you and harshly bit where your shoulder met your neck. With a cry, your pussy throbbed and clamped on his cock making him grunt loudly, panting through grit teeth as his hips stuttered.

“Sh-shit!” you heard him moan as he pulled out, jerking himself over your body and covering you with white. You closed your eyes as you felt the warmth splatter against your skin, your hips shifted and you realized you could feel warmth dripping down between your thighs.

“Did you—?” you asked quietly.

“Eh I might have, sorry don’t think I pulled out fast enough. Don’t worry I’ll clean you up, just sit back and get comfortable, this won’t take long.”

Confused, you laid on your back as he lifted your thighs over his shoulder. He buried his tongue into your pussy and you let out a squeal. You felt the muscle work your core, licking your walls clean, licking your ass cheeks and inner thighs clean as well. You were in a daze as he left your core, trailing his tongue up your torso as he thrusted his fingers into your pussy once more. Pumping you as he licked clean the mess he made on you.

When he cleaned the last drop, his fingers worked overtime causing your final orgasm to strike you like lightning. He swallowed your screams as your pussy crushed his fingers, pumping you through the intense rocking that wallowed in your body as you rode the train of ecstasy. You don’t remember anything else from the night, except one final moment as sleep dragged you to its depths, the way he looked at you with almost guilt as he kissed your forehead.

Quietly murmuring, “If only in a different life.”

You remembered wanting to ask him what he meant when you woke up. However, you awoke to a nightmare. Walking groggily down the steps, your movement faltered when you realized the Bothy had been destroyed from the inside out. No trace of your friend, her boyfriend, or Killer.

All that was left was splatters and puddles of blood strewn about the ruined interior.

5 tiles to go, 59 calls made so far.

[roguelov]

I was just hit either the urge to write dilf!cora and reader smut just friends with Law but crushing on his dad in modern au but dear lord I don’t have the strength

[faarkas]

“goodbye my beloved bride”

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Or how do you feel about Free use and/or Dollificaton?

Pairing: Shigadabi

Contents: This story is a sequel to the previous Incubus!Shigaraki story which you can find here. This story contains (brief, past) Child Abuse and Disordered Eating/Recovery, please be safe.

Kinks: Free use, lingerie, BDSM, light spanking, edging, oral sex, tail fucking, aphrodisiacs, temporary body modification (slick), bruises/marking, light feminization, orgasm denial/delay, prostate massage, prostate milking, overstimulation, dry orgasm, multiple orgasms, cum swallowing, anal sex, double penetration in one hole, somnophilia

So taping a sticky note to the headboard that said 'All you can eat' before he'd passed out the night that Tomura was supposed to come home after a week away and presumably without eating was, perhaps, one might say 'asking for it'. But Dabi would call it an act of love. Making sure that no matter what time his demonic lover, who is still actively fighting against an over a decade-long eating disorder, knows he is encouraging him to indulge helps. Maybe the dark red lingerie was a little overkill, but hey, there's a reason that plating fucking matters when it comes to food and he does have a PLF credit card burning a hole in his pocket. So whatever. Tomura will either take him up on it, or he won't, and he really hopes for his lover's sake he does.

But it's out of his hands when he finally curls up and actually passes out. He's gotten so spoiled with not having nightmares since Tomura is usually around to eat them, he's not been sleeping as well lately. It's definitely making him crankier with the others than he has been in months, and if nothing else, Duster is always deliberate about making sure those are eaten.

///

He's on the floor of the training room. His body is aching, fresh burns splitting the skin on his arms, and harder bruises from where his father's fists landed. There's sweat, and blood, and some shiny clear fluid leaking from his split skin that's been smeared over the floor because he managed to push himself back up twice, but that still wasn't good enough. He's broken. The doctors were right. This was the worst beating his father had ever given him, but the reason this memory is laden with fear, drenched in despair, is because this was the last training session his father ever had with him. The last time he ever hit him so hard or even bothered to look, because this was the last chance Toya had to try and prove he was worth something, and he failed. Hit him harder because he was watching his ambitions drain away again. In this nightmare, no matter how much worse the injuries he's had since have been, how he's been able to keep getting up and pushing through things that should have killed him a dozen times over, he can never do it. His limbs are useless under him, he can't call out because it hurts too bad to open his mouth against the bruise on his cheek that wants to swell it shut, he is forced to lay on the floor, broken and bleeding, knowing that, as far as his father is concerned, he is worth even less than it. Consumed by the terror of wondering what he's supposed to be now, what purpose his life even has, when he can't be a hero.

Dabi doesn't even notice when the fear starts to ebb. When the pain goes. He's small and sobbing on the floor.

"Oh, firefly," Clawed hands on his body, Toya's body from before it grew warped and twisted while he was asleep, gently picking him up. Tomura tucks him against his chest, hand stroking his hair, and wings wrapping around them both. "You can become the monster in his nightmares." Words spoken with honeyed sweetness. "How many of these have you had while I've been away?"

Dabi doesn't answer him, hiding his face against his neck and trying to stop crying as the nightmare starts to go foggy around the edges as Tomura eats it. Duster holds and shushes him until it all goes dark.

///

Dabi's a little breathless when he wakes, can't tell if that's because Tomura still has his hand on his chin from his meal, or if it's because he's immediately letting out a weak sob in the waking world too. Duster's eyes are glowing as he pulls him close here too, pressing a kiss to his forehead, and just holding him until he fully comes out of it. He's not sure how long that takes, but he does eventually clear his head enough to focus again. To find that their room is dark and the clock says it's somewhere around three in the morning.

"Fuck, not what I was going for." He mumbles against Shig's neck. Because Duster has blanket permission to initiate while he's asleep, whether he's having a nightmare or not, with one exception: He's not allowed to start anything the nights he dreams about his father. Look, Dabi is already absolutely fucked in the head, he doesn't need his boyfriend to accidentally Pavlov an Oedipus complex into him.

Tomura hums, "Is that so?"

"Not exactly screaming 'master of seduction', bursting into tears as soon as you get home." He feels Tomura's tail flick near their ankles and Dabi knows that tell better than anyone else on the fucking planet. "Seriously?" But the absurdity that this is somehow working for the demon is enough that his tears trickle off and he manages to sit up and look at him again.

Duster takes that opportunity to shift, backing Dabi until he's half-sitting up against the pile of pillows eclipsing their headboard and moving on top of him. "My firefly, drenched in fear, inviting me to devour him?" He reaches up and wipes away some of the blood on his cheek. "Never want you upset, but you know how much I love to see you cry, precious." His tail starts to run up one of his legs, shifting so that the very tip of the spade can run over his inner thigh. "And getting dressed up so cute, in my color, oh, baby boy, made my mouth water as soon as I saw you."

Doesn't know if it's more or less absurd that that works for him too, that he's quickly losing the threads of the nightmare in the wake of his lover's eyes dragging over him and his hands settling around his hips, but it is. "Tomura,"

"Are you sure, baby? I might eat you up completely."

Dabi knows he literally could, but figuratively, he knows that's not going to happen. Duster has never taken more than he could handle before. "Sure, Duster, help me keep up?"

Has his lover's mouth on his the next second, hands tangling in his thick long hair as Tomura licks into his mouth. Dabi can't help the moan that slips out of him as soon as he gets a taste of the slightly citrusy, bitter venom that is mixing with his saliva. He doesn't always dose him, Dabi hadn't even known about the venom until he'd been researching things once they started fucking regularly and he'd wanted to know how often Tomura should be eating. Found out then that incubi and succubi could produce venom in their mouths and genitals that act as aphrodisiacs to help their prey orgasm far more than they would be able to normally, and help to get their bodies ready for the activity. He swallows it, feeling a tingling starting already and a heat starting to leach out to his limbs as it settles in his stomach.

Clawed hands tease over his hips down to the lacy edge of his panties. "So pretty in this, baby boy." Doesn't take them off just yet though. Instead brings his tail up between his legs and rubs the spade along the swell of his cock until he's starting to harden. Dabi reaches around to his back, to the place where his wings connect, the thin skin around the joints sensitive enough that it has Tomura shuddering, his grip tightening slightly before he's pressing back in for another kiss, nipping sharply at his lips with his fangs. "Behave yourself, firefly."

"Make me." Absolutely asking for it now. Knows that Tomura likes to spoil him, wants him to be his sweet little pillow princess, but he also likes--

Fangs flash as Shig growls at him, his tail reaching up to catch his wrists and hold them tight, putting fresh heat in Dabi's veins that has nothing to do with his quirk. Could break his bones with his tail that, and that is hotter than it has any right to be as Duster starts to slip his panties down his hips. He's not really going to put up much of a fight, couldn't even if he wanted to as the venom makes his nerves hot and his limbs loose as Tomura nips along the column of his throat. He only just manages to kick away the scrap of fabric as he starts to feel-- his face burns at the foreign sensation, always mortifying no matter how many times his lover doses him-- himself getting wet as the venom makes it so that he's ready to take the demon's cock. Spills open his legs for him, wanting more and hoping to get his lover to give it to him sooner rather than later.

Shouldn't have played his hand so early.

Tomura doesn't bring his fingers to his hole, doesn't skip that and just get inside of him and start to fuck him until he's cum so many times he forgets how to count, doesn't touch his cock that is already so hard and curving up against his stomach. Instead he licks and nibbles a path down his body, hands curving around his thighs and shifting his weight a little higher before his lips are teasing along the seams of his thighs. Spends lots of time there, those seams so sensitive, so unused to being touched, and Dabi is panting and moaning, straining his wrists against his restraints. The venom makes him so much more desperate for his orgasm, but the fact he hasn't even seen Tomura in a week is probably only intensifying it further. And fine, he might not be able to try to get Duster going faster by touching him, but he's got other ways of getting what he wants.

Dabi cants his hips up a little more, letting out a needy, whorish moan, "Sir, please, want to feed you."

Absolutely not expecting that to earn him a hard slap against the back of his thigh, but it's a sharp enough sting that he's yelping, hips jumping in his grip and his cock throbbing with need. The moan that comes out of him then is twice as filthy as the one before. "Behave yourself, brat, or I'll tie you up and leave you here while I go find someone else to make a meal of."

Dabi whimpers, the nightmare of being abandoned too close to the surface and making fear spill sour across his nerves. Tomura hums happily as that leaves him docile underneath him.

"Going to be a good boy now, sweet thing?"

"Yes, sir." His voice small, arousal still sitting impossibly high in his veins.

Tomura presses one more kiss to the inside of his thigh before his head is dipping lower. Hums low in his chest as he shifts, "Look at how wet you are, precious. Pretty boy, always so eager to be eaten up."

Usually he means more literally, but Dabi is absolutely not going to complain when Duster's tongue drags a long swipe over his hole, catching the dripping slick and making his nerves sing with the sensation. Tomura holds him tight so that he can't twist or writhe no matter how badly he wants to as he starts to eat him out. Tongue flicking and teasing around his rim, the muscles twitching and trying to open, practically wanting to suck his tongue inside as the venom pulses through him with the desperate need to be filled. Sir knows that too, and doesn't give it to him until he's so wet that Dabi's certain he's making a puddle on the sheets to match the one that his cock is leaking all over his stomach. he's not even sure if it's spit, or slick, or venom that's rolling over the swell of his ass, just knows that if he doesn't have more, he'll lose his mind. Tomura still doesn't press his tongue inside until he's letting out a constant stream of desperate whimpers.

Finally having something inside of him is like putting a livewire against his spine. Dabi is clawing at the sheets, breathless because he can't stop the sounds pouring out of him, delirious because he doesn't even know when Tomura took his tail away. Sir licks inside of him, every pass of his tongue making him wetter as his body tries to build desperately towards his orgasm. But Tomura keeps pulling away. Waits until Dabi is just catching his breath enough to try and beg for more, before he pushes back in. The sounds of it are obscene as he works at him. His cock is aching so badly, wants to cum, can feel the electricity of it racing under his skin and making the pressure worse each time his lover pulls back. When the spade of his tail pushes in alongside his tongue and starts to rub at his prostate, Dabi thinks he's about to get some relief. His balls are tightening, smoke trickling out of his seams, so, so close.

Tomura's tongue abruptly leaves him as he commands, "No." And it's like a stopper was put in his orgasm. it cuts off so sharply that Dabi is crying out, hands unclenching from the sheets and trying to catch on his skin again. The venom turns him into a toy, will go as many times as Tomura tells him to, even if he wouldn't be able to any other time. Can also stop whenever the incubus wants him to.

"Wait, please, please, sir. 'M so close, please."

"I know you are, baby boy," he croons, his tail pressing all the way inside and starting to fuck his dripping hole slowly. Dabi keens, the sensation should have pushed him over, but he can't until Duster gives him permission. "But you're mine to enjoy, I decide how to savor you."

The squeak he lets out when Tomura presses a kiss to his balls would have made him bright red with how humiliating it was, but he doesn't have a chance to be embarrassed. His brain is too busy going absolutely blank as Tomura runs his tongue along them too. He thinks he might have actually died when he opens his mouth wide and takes one inside. Dabi is pretty sure the sound he makes is loud enough to wake up everyone on their floor as half of his sac is engulfed with soft cool pressure on all sides. And then Tomura starts to give light, teasing sucks as his tail fucks into him at the same time. Pleasure and agony war for his attention inside of him, his orgasm was sitting so close to the surface, there was so much pressure already built up in his balls, and now Sir is making it so much worse, better, worse, as he suckles at that sensitive skin. He pulls off, purring as he glances up at him and Dabi realizes that he's sobbing weakly again, making those desperate little--

"Oh kitten, it's okay, just lay back and keep making those cute sounds for me."-- mewls that Tomura likes. Sounds he can't help making when his lover makes his need go so high without letting him go over the edge.

"Please, Tomura, please," he sobs weakly.

"Don't worry, baby boy, I'm going to give you more." But he doesn't let him cum. Instead he licks a long line up his sac, back down it, breath cool against his sensitive and overheated skin, and then he takes both into his mouth. Never had someone suck on them like this, his tongue rolling along them and giving them soft even pressure as he works his mouth over them. Feels so good that Dabi knows he would have cum immediately if the demon had given his body permission. As is, between the slow fucking of his tail inside of his hole, and his balls being so thoroughly lavished with attention, Dabi's cock is harder than it has ever been before, so hard that it hurts, and is flushed dark against him.

He can't help that he's crying constantly, that he's begging just as much, can hardly tell up from down and his body is so tight with his need sitting under his skin. He's a little afraid that the electricity of his life force is going to start snaking out of his seams even if Tomura doesn't give him permission to cum. Tomura plays with him, could be minutes, could be hours, he doesn't know anything but the exquisite agony that the demon is forcing into every inch of him, but he eventually manages to croak,

"Hurts, please, sir, please," he needs to let the pressure out, needs to cum so badly. Gets his mouth off of him and he can't even tell if that's good or bad anymore.

"What hurts, baby boy?" His voice gentle as he presses kisses against his thigh again.

"Need to cum, hurts, please sir."

"Oh, precious," coos at him like he's a cute, if misbehaving, kitten. Dabi sobs fresh when one hand moves to his cock, rubbing two fingers over his head, teasing out another fat drop of pre, his head flushed dark and angry from how badly he wants to cum. He whimpers again. "Too full, baby boy?"

Dabi manages a nod, moaning again when Duster starts to kiss along his shaft. Sucks at the piercings lining the underside of his cock and those are so sensitive that his dick twitches and starts to drool a constant stream of pre.

"Okay, firefly, going to get rid of some of that pressure for you."

He should know right then that Tomura is not going to give him what he wants, but he's not thinking straight, so desperate, delirious with how badly he wants relief, all he can do is sob, "thank you, thank you, thank you."

"You're welcome, precious." Should clock the smug amusement in his voice before Tomura licks up some of his pre before closing his lips around his aching head. Sucking at him the same way he did his balls, a hand now moving to keep stroking them gently. The other hand has to hold his hips down because he's a mess, can't help how the constant stimulation against the three most sensitive parts of his body at the same time is making him fall apart so completely. He hardly notices when the tail goes from fucking into his needy hole and is instead rubbing the tip so deliberately against his insides, against his prostate. Not thinking about it because it just feels so, so good. Because there's even more painful pressure building up inside of him and sending smoke spilling out from his seams. Tomura feeds his cock into his mouth, but won't take him all the way down his throat. Instead holding him so that he can rub his tongue along his ladder and suck at his skin with slow teasing swallows. Pressure building, a burning warmth starting to press so insistently.

It takes until he is about two seconds from going over the edge for him to realize that Tomura didn't actually give him permission to cum.

"No, Tomura-- please!" Anguish as the pressure builds and instead of snapping in a wave of ecstasy, he only gets a thin trickle of relief that doesn't satisfy his need to orgasm. As glowing red eyes flick up to watch him with more amusement as Tomura grinds his tail harder against his prostate as he milks him, swallowing the thin stream of his release as he keeps toying with his sac and sucking his cock. Dabi is whimpering and sobbing constantly as it feels like it just keeps coming and coming, until he's aching and dry-- and still so aroused that his cock hasn't even softened. Tomura drinks every drop, only pulling off when Dabi is boneless and trembling against the sheets. Can't even find his tongue to beg anymore. Doesn't matter. He said that Sir could eat all he wanted. Gave himself up to the demon, and this is his punishment for his recklessness. He whimpers as Tomura pulls off of his cock and he stops teasing his sac.

He purrs as he sees just how much of a mess he already is, knows that there's blood all over his face and he must look like a strong breeze could snap his tattered nerves in half at this point and he can't even care. Just needs more. Tomura doesn't give him exactly that, his tail stilling to keep him full, but not moving inside of him the way he wants, his mouth instead moving back to his thighs, sucking and licking on his skin until his seams are starting to ache. Still doesn't leave them alone until they start to swell and he knows they're hurting. Going to ache every time he moves for the next few days, so he'll remember exactly how they got like that and end up squirming and needy for his lover all over again.

Dabi is so desperate he can't even be embarrassed that a little bit of extra pressure on them as he moves up his body is enough to have his balls tightening again. Tomura must sense his impending orgasm and lets out a low laugh. "Like how they sting that much, precious?" Curls a hand around one and squeezes-- "Not yet." And takes away his orgasm again. Dabi sobs and Tomura licks up the blood on his cheeks with a constant purr. More still slipping over his cheeks when he decides to turn his attention elsewhere.

Presses kisses and nips along his throat as his hands move to cup his chest through the thin lacy bra. "Always love it when you get dressed up so cute for me, baby boy." Thumbs rubbing over his nipples through the lacy fabric as Tomura speaks, peppering kisses along the seam cutting across his collarbone. Dabi isn't sure that his chest has ever felt this sensitive before, not sure any part of him has ever been so sensitive, and the moan he lets out as his cool fingers tease at his nipples is humiliating. It's a high, needy keen that he's never heard out of himself before, but stuffed up with Tomura's tail, his cock so hard, and his release being denied to him again and again even with the demon's venom pumping through his veins, has him so desperate that everything feels like too much. Not enough. Overwhelming to the point he feels like he's going to lose his mind.

And Tomura just breathes a laugh against his skin before he tugs his bra down to expose the rest of his chest. Just low enough to expose the hard buds of his nipples, the barbells glittering in the low light. And then he's got his mouth on one of them and Dabi is letting out a fresh sob. Fuck, fuck, every flick of his tongue, every little suck against the skin, and the tiny nips of his fangs is a fresh burst of electricity crackling through his veins. And Tomura is just as thorough here as he was everywhere else, as he lavishes his chest with his attention. And this skin is mostly unmarred, so when the demon decides to nip across the swell of his skin, when he decides to suck bruises around them, they ache and turn shades of red and pink and purple. Until he notices that there's spit pooling on the edge of his lips because he hasn't been able to close his mouth enough with the way he is constantly heaving, deep, panting breaths, and moaning too much to remember to fucking swallow.

He must look absolutely ruined because when Tomura pulls back this time he lets out a low groan of his own, "Oh, baby boy, you look so pretty like this." Cups half of his chest with one hand and squeezes and Dabi's hips nearly jump off the bed. "Is this enough, precious?" Amusement and arousal warring for space in his voice. "You can cum, beautiful." Mouth moving to press a teasing kiss to his  nipple, "If my baby boy can cum from having his pretty tits played with." Tomura flicks his other nipple lightly.

Dabi cums so hard that he nearly blacks out.

There should be relief in it, it should feel good, it should feel like the best orgasm he's ever had when Tomura has been denying him for so long, but after the other man milked him, there's nothing left to release as he orgasms. So even as the pleasure rushes through him, there's not the same pulsing release or relief. The pleasure comes with the ache of cumming dry right on its heels and has him sobbing as the biggest ball of lightning that Tomura's ever pulled out of him, tears its way out of his throat. He swallows it up eagerly, his wings doing that fluttery thing they always do when he's happy. And that, more than anything else, calms him down and lets him focus a little. Manages to lean up enough to get Tomura to give him a kiss, soothing hands moving across his very sensitive skin.

"Delicious, firefly." Murmured against his lips, licking inside of his mouth like he'll somehow be able to find other traces of what he wants to taste so badly. Needs more and the dryness of Dabi's orgasm, and the pulse of venom is preparing his body to give that to him. He can't even muster a whine as he feels Tomura's tail pull out of his oversensitive hole. Not when Duster is shifting to lose his pajama bottoms in favor of pressing his cock against him. He doesn't push in, but Dabi's whole body is hungry for it in a way that he wouldn't be without the demon's influence. He can't do anything but moan as Tomura pushes into him.

If the game before was to deny him his orgasm until it became so insistent that he couldn't stop it from happening, then the game now must be making him cum so many times that he begs to stop. Because once Tomura is inside of him, he's fucking Dabi with frankly unholy single-mindedness. Makes sure that he's rubbing against his hyper-sensitive prostate, his tail coiling around his cock and stroking him in time with his movements, his hand still teasing one nipple, mouth over the other, other hand holding him open and straining the sore staples on his thigh. And he is unrelenting in his pace. brings Dabi's pleasure higher and higher again, so hard and fast that he thinks that he's trying to race him up to the wall again. But he doesn't stop him when he crests over it for the second time, lets him cum with a sharp cry as his cock barely manages a dribble, and Tomura swallows the next flickering bolt of lightning and just keeps going. Dabi's body meets him, but his mind feels completely gone. He's nothing but a tangle of nerves being pushed to their limits again and again.

He thinks that Tomura makes him cum like this two more times, but he couldn't actually say. Is practically floating, practically delirious when Tomura murmurs, "Still barely getting any relief, huh, baby?" Saccharine sweetness in his voice. Something vaguely unpleasant tingles in the back of his mind, but Dabi can't be bothered to pay it any attention. Not when he's just clinging to him, nuzzling his face into his neck, letting him use his body however he wants as long as it all just keeps feeling so good. "Alright, precious, let's see if you can take a little more."

He doesn't know what Tomura is talking about, but his tail unwinds from his cock and he doesn't like that. The friction of it around him was so nice. He just wants it all to keep feeling nice. But Sir makes it better when he presses a kiss to his temple and replaces his tail with his hand. When his tail prods at his hole again, Dabi lets out a whimper. He's already so full. But he's still dripping. Maybe he needs more? Sir peppers kisses all over him, other hand rubbing soothing circles against the swell of his hip, relaxing, making his arousal soft instead of the desperate, constant need it has been since they started. And when his muscles are as putty as his head is, the spade starts to push inside with his cock. Dabi gets so, so much fuller as it stretches his rim wide as it snakes its way inside. Makes it even more intense when that presses inside and angles up again, rubbing against his prostate like it had before as Tomura's hips keep rolling into him again, and again, taking away the flicker of discomfort and sending a waterfall of bliss over him.

Sir keeps moving, and the drag of his cock, the rhythm of his tail massaging him, has pressure building up inside of him again. It has Dabi's cock aching, his balls feeling tighter. Another orgasm? Can he even manage that again? He doesn't think there's anything left in his body, thinks that all he is are the places where he and Tomura are touching and the moment that they stop he'll fall apart into nothing because surely no one person could feel this good for this long and survive it. He gives a soft sigh. This is how people didn't notice they were being killed, it just felt so good that they would slip away without noticing. Dabi lets himself float happily. Because Tomura won't hurt him, would never take more than he could handle.

Threads his hand into Sir's hair and has pretty red eyes on him. "Barely even here," voice soft and sweet as he rests their foreheads together.

"'m h're," He tries so hard to find his tongue. Needed to say something, it felt important. Kind of forgets what it was as Tomura shifts to fuck him slower and deeper as he angles his hips a bit higher. Makes him moan again, but his throat kind of hurts, feels scratchy. Oh, remembers what he wanted to say, should do it before he loses his voice, "Love you," still barely slurs it out, but it must be clear enough because Tomura's expression softens even more

"I love you too, firefly." Leans in so their noses brush. "Thank you for feeding me, baby boy, but I think it's time for you to rest." Dabi wants to protest, told Tomura he could have as much as he wanted, he can keep going-- "Cum for me, precious." But the command works through him anyway, and with the way he's been toying with his prostate again, when this orgasm comes it’s with the force of them that he normally expects when he's feeding his lover. Splatters his stomach and chest with his cum as his whole body goes so sharply full of his bliss that he doesn't even realize he's passed out until he's laying back on the training room floor.

He's a lot more coherent in the dream as he tries to get his bearings. Can't fully make sense of everything, and doesn't even get a chance really, because before he can even sit up, Tomura's form is caging him in here, his body laying over his own and pinning him down. Capturing his lips in another kiss as his wings flare and shift, folding around them so they're huddled beneath them, appendages shielding them from the familiar setting of his nightmares.

"Wha-" Dabi lets out a startled yelp when sharp claws are tearing open his clothes as Tomura's mouth moves to bite along the edge of his jaw.

"I said 'rest', firefly, not 'stop'. You can still get a good night's sleep while I indulge."

Dabi's pretty sure the little spike of fear that instills in him only makes him a more appetizing meal for the demon.

///

Incubus venom is a fucking miracle because Dabi isn't even sore when he wakes up the next morning. Not sore and he’s well-rested for the first time in a week, but his muscles do feel like they've been replaced with wet cardboard. He's got the strength of a sopping wet kitten and he doesn't even have the energy to be embarrassed about it when Tomura literally has to carry him to the kitchen to eat breakfast. Thankfully, the others aren't up before them and don't actually witness that part. Though when they do eventually trickle in, it's to him fully in Tomura's lap, chests pressed together, his head on the demon's shoulder, being fed blueberries because that's about all he has the energy for right now.

"You two know the walls aren't soundproof?" Spinner bitches as soon as he sees them.

"Aw, that's so cute," Toga coos as she takes out her phone to get a picture of the display. Dabi doesn't even have the energy to try to reach for his quirk or remove himself from Tomura's embrace, just opening his mouth to accept another berry.

"Holy shit did you break him? God, if he stays like this then we might actually get through the meeting this afternoon without him trying to tear off Trumpet's face with his teeth." The prospect chasing away Spinner's initial annoyance clearly enough.

"He's going to remember you said that when he's feeling up to moving again." Tomura tells them amusement in his tone as he makes him stop with the blueberries to take a few sips of water. Going to be making him drink a ton to replace everything he lost last night if past events are an indicator of how the rest of the day is going to go.

"Be careful you two," Compress says as he goes to pour himself a mug of coffee. "You don't want to do any permanent damage if you overindulge by accident after being apart." And he's literally in Duster's lap, he's pressed as close as he can get without being indecent. He feels it when Tomura tenses slightly as Mister says that. Dabi bites his tongue. Knows the older man said it idly, a passing concern because he's the group dad and he always tries to keep them alive and not indulging in their most self-destructive tendencies. Is probably not thinking about it that much when he says it. But he knows that's going to land like a lead balloon with Tomura after a decade and a half of more insidious comments from AFO.

"We're being careful," Duster tells him, tries to hide the reaction, tries to give him another berry. Dabi lets him, stays quiet until the others have gotten their food, if they actually eat anything at all, and are all heading out to get started on their new tasks. Waits until they're gone and then starts to press kisses along Tomura's neck. "Firefly--"

"Are you still hungry?"

Openly tense now, "Dabi--"

"I'm not hurt. You took good care of me, you're going to keep taking care of me and I'm gonna take care of you." Nuzzles their noses and then makes sure that Tomura can't look away from him when he says, "Play hooky with me. Take me back to bed, I want you to eat me until you're full, Duster. You deserve to eat when you're hungry, Tomura."

"Dabi, we can't 'play hooky', you're a lieutenant and I'm the Grand Commander, and I've been gone for a week--" Deflecting.

"Everyone else takes meal breaks during the week. You can take a day to eat and recuperate after a week away. Take me back to bed and," his face goes hot as he barely manages to breathe, knows he'll die if one of the others happen to come back through and hear him say, "I'll let you play with my tits until I cry again." Sees the swish of Tomura's tail, but his mouth is still set into a small frown. Dabi lets his voice go thin and breathy when he begs, "Want to taste you again, sir, miss having you in my mouth, please?" Not even a lie really, would happily take a dose of venom from Tomura's cock this time.

"You're a nightmare." But there's a fond, slightly exasperated resignation in his tone and he presses a kiss to his cheek before he lifts him out of his lap and deposits him on the chair. "Fine, but you have to drink two more glasses of water and you have to eat something more substantial first."

Having not only won, but also wanting to set a good example about not skipping meals, Dabi agrees readily, "Yes sir."

Tomura sighs like he knows exactly what he's doing and is disappointed in himself for falling for it anyway. "What do you want to eat, baby?"

"Eggs?"

"Alright, sweetheart."

"Don't forget--"

"Hot sauce, I know."

Still figuring out how to feed each other, but Dabi thinks they're making progress. 

Thank you for the submission!

[veroniquesboutique]

Kinktober Day 8 - Breeding

For Kinktober day 8!

Shikamaru Nara x AFAB!Reader

Content warnings: AFAB reader, substance use, dry humping, breeding kink, pussy slapping, unprotected, creampie, playful degradation/name calling, stomach bulge

18+ MINORS DNI

More under the cut!

The room is cloaked in a thick cloud of hazy smoke and late night, intimate debauchery. The two of you sit on your bed, his feet planted on the floor and your legs lazily around his waist with one over his lap and one pushing up against his back as you lean in close to his face, using his shoulder to keep yourself up. Your eyelids are heavy, but you watch Shikamaru pull another drag into his mouth before holding the lit joint above his head and out of his way, leaning into to kiss you with an open mouth. Your tongues swirl together as you inhale the smoke from his mouth, both of you letting streams float out your noses to join the cloud above you. 

His hand grips your waist, and the feel of his skin against yours as he pushes your shirt out of the way is intoxicating. Well, maybe it’s the actual intoxication of your cross-fade settling into your veins, into your bones, that feels intoxicating, but you can’t deny that his calloused fingers against your soft skin feels really fucking good right now.

You and Shikamaru aren’t really interested in the labels of it all. It’s never really been worth it to you both; you don’t shy away when someone calls him your boyfriend, you’re not shocked and confused, but you two haven’t sat down and made anything official, even though you’ve been pretty much exclusive for a couple of months. Honestly, you’d be surprised if you ever have a conversation. It feels much more likely that he’ll slowly just move in, staying longer and longer each time, living lives together for years until one day you wake up with a ring box on your night stand, something more symbolic than actually legally binding. 

The truth is that you two are terrified of the concept of commitment but not so much the practice of it, but that’s another thing you two have never said to each other.

He pulls off the joint one more time, his inhale deep enough to push his chest out and jostle your languid body leaning against him, before pressing the bud into the ashtray sitting on your nightstand. As his lips meet yours again, he presses into you a little bit more, pushing your non-resistant body back onto the bed. He twists to lay his body between your legs, his weight comforting as you breath in the smoke pouring from his mouth. It’s all making your head float, his lips devouring yours and his other hand dragging tingles from your hips to your ass to the backs of your thighs. Your knees press into the sides of his waist, and he smiles against your mouth, making you both giggle at nothing in particular.

The slow making out turns to heavier breathing and panting and petting until his hand reaches towards the drawer of your nightstand, and even though that’s a good idea, a great idea even, you reach your hand out to intertwine your fingers with his, intercepting him from grabbing the protection easily stored so close by. You both smile at the implication, but his turns into a groan.

“That’s a terrible idea, and you know it,” He whispers between soft, slow kisses, and you whine, arching your back to press yourself into him.

“I know, I know, but what if-”

“Yeah, what if, play that scenario through your head,” He cuts you off, but all of his teasing, all of his jeering, feels playful, like he’s politely refusing such a terrible idea for just long enough so that he doesn’t seem eager.

You do let the scenario play through your mind. It’s the thrill of unobstructed, unprotected, deep intimacy that calls you to that terrible idea. There is no larger a commitment than life, creating a life, and the thought of what happens after is terrifying because neither of you are really sure where you fall. However, that’s part of the enjoyment; the feeling of panic deep in your stomach from a small pink plus sign feels so far away that the panic almost feels like excitement, like your nerves on fire, like desire.

“Please?” You whine again, almost begging, pulling his hand still intertwined with yours above your head and peppering kisses all over his cheeks and chin and neck. He laughs again, letting his eyes roll up to the ceiling to stretch his neck out for your hungry lips.

“You are such a fucking whore. I love it,” He mutters under his breath, a hint of laugh on his raspy, smoky voice, and the playfulness suggests you’re going to get your way. A moan hitches in your throat as you wrap your legs tightly around his waist before he changes his mind. 

Continued on AO3...

[wrathofrats]

21. Blowjob / domsub

Yes I know it’s November. Idc. Happy kinkvember ig

2.8k words of zephrit. Zephs a brat and ifrit is just the kindest dom about it.

Or I stumbled delirious into @divine-misfortunes DMs and came out with this. Shout out to it for dragging me by the collar back into writing.

Small warnings for a bit of degro, face fucking, they/them Zeph, yeah

“I just thinks it’s fucking stupid” Zeph grumbles. The room is too cold, dew won’t let them watch what they want on tv, everything is wrong to them and the longer they stand in the kitchen with ifrit the more pissed off they get over seemingly nothing.

Ifrit usually has the patience to deal with Zephyr when they’re like this. The knowledge that they’re in pain and don’t mean to be bitchy is enough to give him the time and energy to talk them down.

Todays different.

“Zeph, honey, there’s nothing you can do. Maybe just calm down, it’ll be ok” ifrit stands behind them with a hand around their waist, the other playing with a loose strand of hair from their bun.

“Do you have to be so fucking positive all the time?” Zeph mumbles to themself. It’s a stupid comment, they know it’s mean, it’s really just a day to push as far as they can, they can’t help it.

Something in ifrit snaps. The usual patience turned into a need to just set the air ghoul straight. He shifts his hands to their waist and throws them over his shoulder. They’re light, easy to manhandle into a comfortable position. Ifrit knows Zeph won’t listen and be reasonable if he were to simply tell them to go upstairs, much rather take them there himself instead of listening to the back talk he knows he would get by trying to reason with them. In his eyes it’s the easier option.

“put me the fuck down”

Zeph struggles against him, kicking their feet and grabbing at the back of his shirt. Ifrit simply stays silent until he opens his door and throws Zeph onto the bed.

Something in his demeanor changes, he smiles, watches Zeph like he’s infatuated with them, a kindness in his eyes that contradicts the way he simply maneuvers zephyr like a ragdoll. The sugary sweet appearance only furthers their anger.

“This is fucking stupid, I’m going back down stairs” zeph bites and attempts to push past ifrit.

Ifrits sharp claws dig slightly into zephs wrists as he grabs them and pins the air ghoul to the wall. Watching, daring them to struggle.

“Be sweet darling, I know you can be” ifrits lips are on zephyrs skin immediately, his spare hand pushing up their shirt to thumb at his hip.

“Shut up, let me go” Zeph says. Their anger betrayed by a uncertain high pitch to their voice when Ifrit's lips brush their neck, not even consciously tipping their head to give more access to the sensitive skin, it's instinct to want to lay themself bare to him, even if they pretend that they hate it.

“Oh honey I know you don’t want that, you’re so cute when you act like this” *you're so cute when you struggle knowing full well you'll lose.* he doesn't need to say it for Zephyr to understand and it makes blood rush to their cheeks and their dick all at once. Ifrit purposefully shifts, pushes a knee between their thighs - not heavily, enough to keep them aware of how their dick reacts to whatever he does to them.

"*I'm not cute.*" they hiss through their teeth, breath hitching as a warming hand ghosts beneath their shirt.

A strangled noise leaves zephs mouth, ifrits claws dig further into their wrists and the word cute goes straight to their cock that’s rapidly filling in his pants as ifrits leg rubs against it.

“I know you can be sweet, poor thing you just need to be reminded don’t you?”

Ifrit thumbs lightly over a nipple, enough attention to get the little bud properly pebbled, before rolling it between his fingers. Zephyr wants to be embarrassed at how fast they practically collapse into ifrits support as his hand pinches, fingers hot to the touch. They don't intend to go boneless like they do, but Ifrit knows their body too well. The way his teeth tease at their pulse is evident of that, they want to scream in frustration but trying to bring themself to even speak at all is more difficult than it should've been.

They gasp, bucking into it but struggling against where they’re pinned still. The lips on their neck are so soft compared to the burning sensation on their chest.

“Fuck- ifrit I-“ they try to ask for more but struggle against the words, all the sensations making their brain practically turn off. He chuckles into their neck and Zeph barely fights the urge to roll their hips forward into the pressure his thigh offered. Zeph knows they wouldn't survive it if he let them do it, already turning to mush.

"I know sweetheart," Ifrit kissed beneath their ear, voice soft and understanding. Only the slightest bit condescending, easily missed. They do. "I'll give you what you want...Could never say no to you, even when you're acting up like this, but you can't help it huh? Can't help but be a brat cause you need it so bad. Need my cock so bad you forgot how to act darling."

“Shut up, give it to me” zeph grinds against ifrits leg.

“I know you’re just a needy cockwhore, I’ll take care of you darling”

Before Zeph can comprehend it their shirt is being dragged over their head and ifrit has his fingers struggling with the button and zipper on his pants, even just the friction of ifrits hand on the front of his jeans has them ready to start begging. The kindness and rough touches has their head spinning, desperate.

Ifrits fingers swipe across their lips and Zeph immediately invites them in, letting ifrit slide them in and out as they coat them with spit.

Zeph pretends they're annoyed by everything, by ifrits fingers petting over their tongue, but it's a hard facade to keep up because his fingers are warm and rough and taste a little sweet

“Youll just suck on anything I give you” ifrit whispers “you’re so adorable acting out, when you’ll go brainless if I put something in your mouth”

it's true but Zeph still groans and protests it a little but there's more pressure against their crotch and their eyes damn near roll back, immediately chasing the feeling, groan trailing off into a whine as his fingers push further into their mouth

Jaw slack, they eventually forget why they were protesting him or his attention to begin with

Ifrit smiles so sweetly, coos a little praise when they stop struggling

"There you are....there's my sweet flower, don't gotta keep acting up, you've got me now"

Zeph practically whines, their hips grind harder into ifrits thigh, hands still high above their head.

“It’s ok, I know you don’t mean it sweetheart, we both know who is actually in charge here” ifrit whispers, low and sweet into their ear. a reminder instead of a threat.

Zephyr nods compliantly, almost content to just suck on ifrits fingers and hump his leg like they won’t get anything better. There’s something so addictingly mindless about it all, about the sweet whispers from ifrit while they hollow their cheeks around the fingers and cover them in spit, about the drag and friction over their cock that’s sensitive and borderline painful but they would never dare stop.

They just get so easy like this, so malleable that they even whine when ifrit pulls his hand away and pushes them to sink to their knees

“Gonna give you something better sweetheart, this is what you wanted right?” Ifrit tilts zephs head up to stare at him, eyes already glassy as they look at him pathetically, as if they don’t get a cock in their mouth soon they may cry

Ifrit shushes them, they'll get what they want, he always gives it to them, Zeph just needs to be patient

He could tease, see just how needy they really get, but he knows not to push when they fall so fast like this. It’s almost embarrassing how easy zephyr gets with just a few rough touches and commanding words, ifrits sure they’ll be blushing about it later, refusing to admit it.

But right now? They're just sitting there with their mouth open stupidly, tugging at ifrits pant leg and he’s surprised they're not drooling all over their lap.

He pulls himself out, uses his other hand to keep a firm grasp on zephs chin, he knows they’ll be good and still but it’s just an added reminder, an added force of command for ifrit to easily slide his cock into their mouth.

It’s almost surprising how Zeph sits with their hands in their lap, waiting for ifrit to use them. His sweet ghoul,

“Knew you knew how to be good,” ifrit smiles at them. He places a gentle hand in their hair just to guide them, knows they like the extra force, the slight pain that comes with it to keep them sweet and stupid. The tip of ifrits cock glistens with pre in the dimly lit room, it’s hard for zeph not to lunge for it, they know better to be greedy but they can't get enough of ifrits dick in their mouth, thick but comfortable enough not to make their jaw hurt, long but not enough to gag them outright

It's perfect, like it was made for them to suck...not to mention the way their mouth makes ifrits voice go all breathy.

They go still as ifrit brings zephs mouth to him, looks up and waits, a silent invitation to fuck their mouth, use them.

It’s easy for him to realize what Zeph wants, almost too easy to just tighten his grip in their hair and force them down, making them take as much as they can.

“Fuck- you look so much prettier when you’re quiet doll” ifrit grits out, trying hard to not fuck that pretty little mouth too hard, but it feels so good he doesn’t know if he can help himself. Zephyrs red lips and glassy sweet eyes make it hard to control himself.

Ifrit being rough isn't a thing that really happens all that much but zephyr constantly aches for it

Especially when they're acting up like they were, need it bad, but ifrits seemingly never ending patience rarely falters. So when they do finally get him like this it’s easy to milk it as much as possible, trying to be as obedient as possible to hopefully get him to give them what they want.

It’s an itch they get sometimes to see how far they can push it before ifrit breaks. Needs to be punished, needs to be put in their place and made to obey.

Almost just wants to see how much he will really let them get away with.

Zeph is usually talked down with soft words and gentle touches, the never ending kindness enough to make them fuzzy and have their head spinning.

But when ifrit is truly rough with them? Makes them feel small and stupid? It takes all their energy to not straight beg to be treated like a toy, to be used and fucked with no respect

“You’re just nothing without my cock between those lips are you darling?” Ifrit coos at them, sweet despite usuing their mouth, slamming them back down over and over as drool begins to spill out the sides of their mouth, tears running down their cheeks.

He stares fondly at them with his fingers curled around their neck pinning them to the mattress, telling them how Beautiful they are as he fucks their throat with a fist around their horn,

“You’re such a good toy to fuck, much more useful when you’re quiet like this instead of being a brat, can’t ask for what you want can you?” His tone is kind, but mocking.

Ifrit pulls them off his cock so he can spill his mess on their face with a purr of I love you

They've been too bratty to earn the reward of him cumming in their mouth. A treat that Zeph almost cries over when they realize they won’t get it. Zeph can’t help but sit there with their mouth wide open, hoping to catch just a little bit, just desperate to taste what they do to him. They make a sad little sound they make when he pulls out, a very hoarse and pathetic please please please they whisper...

They truly do look pretty like this, lips fucked a cherry red, cheeks tear stained and eyes sad and desperate, truly looks fucked out, like they were made for taking cock down their throat.

They really are such a sweet little toy.

Zeph can’t help but sit there with their mouth wide open, hoping to catch just a little bit, just desperate to taste what they do to him.

Ifrit gathers what he can from zephs cheeks onto his fingers and holds them up to their lips, a small gesture of kindness because Zeph really is too pretty to deny like this.

Ifrit could just keep on like this all night, till he had nothing left to give, if it meant zeph would stay like this for him

a flip switches in Zeph when ifrit is rough and cruel like this. Abandons their usual snark and haughtiness for begging and desperately sweet words, willing to worship ifrit even, if it would get his approval

They’re not apposed to the long game, the fear that maybe ifrit will keep them like this for another round or two before they’re touched at all, let alone be allowed to cum, is terrifyingly arousing considering how often they’re allowed just get whatever they want.

The prospect of just being given the sweet mercy of a short hand job, not even getting fucked like they’ve been begging for for an hour now, it’s unsatisfying, in their opinion cruel, especially knowing how nice ifrit will be about it and treat the situation as if ifrit is being merciful and generous. It’s almost embarrassing, to be told that being given the bare minimum is a reward, a treat since ifrit just loves them so much.

They can’t get enough of it.

Hopes he will treat them like that

And ifrit does.

He fucks two more loads out in their mouth, but barely gives them a taste. More than happy to shoot on their face, their chest, anywhere that isn't where they want it. They look pitiful, a proper decorated whore, soaked through their boxers, left visibly wanting

Ifrit wishes he could muster up another round, but he doesn't think he'll survive trying to milk out a forth orgasm, so instead he scoops them up. Lays them out on the bed, a little princess posed in the pillows. He calls them pretty as he crawls between their legs which fall apart so easily for him, inviting him in.

Gentle kisses trail up their thighs as ifrit noses the underside of their cock, just teases them because Zeph just sounds so cute when they’re so compliant and desperate. He wants them to work for it, beg and try hard to fuck his mouth. It’s too easy to just lightly lick at the head, wanting them to buck up into it.

He lets the head of their dick just rest against his tongue, close to the warmth of his mouth, but not giving it proper. Every little sigh and exhale has zeph twitching, kicking against his tongue. They're trying so hard to be good, to not take more than what they're given and ifrit can see them sweat, see the visible restraint. He makes the softest sympathetic sound, gives them a little, a few generous strokes that has them sobbing in relief.

But then it's just his fist loose around them, teary eyed and confused,

“I’m sorry for being mean love, you can fuck my fist as much as youd like”

Zeph almost wails, desperately wants to cry and beg for ifrits mouth, needs to feel his lips around them, hot and wet. His fist almost seems like a cruel joke and with the way ifrit smiles at them they’re sure it is.

Their thrusts are pathetic and lackluster, barely able to get off the bed, it’s not enough like this they don’t think but they don’t want to be greedy. He’s never seen them be so good, remembering their manners and doing without the sarcastic comments, he almost feels bad for them after he’s been so cruel.

Ifrit caves.

He pins their hips down and takes them fully to the back of their throat.

Zeph almost cums immediately, it doesn’t take much after everything, they barely have time to warn ifrit before he just moves their hand to his hair, silent permission to take what they want, they’ve earned it.

Zeph keeps a loose fist tied to his scalp as ifrit bobs, can’t help but to just whine and thanks him for his mercy before spilling hot down his throat with a cry.

[writer-and-lover]

The Tiny and the Giant

Kinktober Day 1: Leather | Micro/Macro - Lucifer (Obey Me)

@justwolosers

Parties in the human world were loud. Boisterous. Down-right illegal at time.  Usually hosted and attended by young, energetic teenagers or young adults, the drinks limited to cheap corner shop liquor and maybe a few lines of coke or ketamine injections. Or weed. Bright lights in dark houses, pool parties and bathroom make outs. That was what you were used to.

Parties in the devildom were a whole different level. You’d noticed that a lot of the laws, if there were any, were extremely lax. And the parties definitely reflected that. Scantily clad demons, some forgoing clothes all together, drugs, potions, drinks- are those sex toys? Nothing seemed to be being held back. Asmodeus was at least excited for the both of you. He’d been the one to invite you as his plus-one, as it was a requirement. The invite also stressed the importance of dress-code; the least clothes possible. That hadn’t been an issue for you, really. You’d been to your fair share of leather parties and 18+ drag shows. The nudity wasn’t an issue at all. You’d picked a less daring outfit, a simple black leather harness that hugged your chest nicely, with leather jeans and black spiked punk boots. A simple leather collar was wrapped around your neck, a silver O-ring hanging from the front by a chain with matching earrings to boot. When you’d shown Asmo, you had nearly lost the trousers. Permanently. But now at the party, you realise that maybe- you’re a bit overdressed. You can’t see any demon or spirit wearing anything past their thighs. Only half of them are even wearing clothes on their lower bodies.

You drank merrily throughout the night, chatting with the nicer demons and kindly but insistently declining the… offers… from the succubi and incubi, which was made easier by Asmo’s eager offer of substituting for you. The pool was out of limits for you, being kept boiling, but everything else was just in reach for you and human safe. Except perhaps the drugs, you weren’t sure. And whilst the potions were tempting, Lucifer’s warning about taking “strange” and “unknown” potions echoed in your mind. But the alcohol was so good, pooling at the bottom of your chest with heavy molten heat. It brought warmth to your face, making you smile dopily.

That smile was wiped clean when a bottle shattered over your head.

A succubus hadn’t taken kindly to your rejection. Perhaps jealous that Asmo could get you every night (which wasn’t… actually true.) The contents of the bottle, whatever they had been, covered you in a sticky manner and soaked into your clothes. Someone screamed, glass probably falling onto the demon that had been talking with you. Or maybe it was because you’d fallen to the floor from the hit. Blood dripping slightly down your face.

Everything had been a whirlwind after that, Asmo scooping you up off the floor, a large scuttle, shouts, screams and soft hands dabbing at your head. You were dizzy, eyesight blurry from the liquid and the alcohol in your system. You closed your eyes for a while, but every time you opened them you were somewhere different. It all looked different. Each time, things seemed to grow larger, more daunting. The succubus must have dunked a potion on your head, perhaps a incoherence one? Was there such thing? But there’s still several voices around you, soft, hushed and panicked. One of them, Asmo’s, seems to be trying to both comfort you and argue with a second voice. A third voice joins the party, and they argue, their voices growing louder and louder and more ear-splitting and- and-

A rough, baritone voice ceases all sound with just one word. And you fall unconscious.

When you next wake up, it’s to a soft blanket underneath you. Or what you thought was a blanket. When you sit up to scan your surroundings, you notice that you’re sitting on a very familiar handkerchief. Very familiar. On further investigation, you realise that everything around you is now insanely big. You’ve shrunk. The goddamn cunt had thrown a shrinking potion on you. The clothes you’d been wearing had also shrunk to your size, although they feel slightly tighter than they had before you’d been turned into the size of one of Levi’s figurines.

Footsteps snap you out of your reverie, and Lucifer, now turned into an extra intimidating giant, scowls down at you.

“If I’m correct, I told you not to take any strange potions, correct?”

His pompous attitude makes you frown, and you stand up on your makeshift bed. Pointing accusingly at him.

“I’ll have you know,”  you wince, voice a higher pitch, “I didn’t willingly get doused in a shrinking potion! It was completely without my consent!”

Lucifer sighs, “I should not have let you go to that party at all. That was a bad lapse in my judgement.” He sits down on the chair and sets his crossed arms down on the table, leaning down towards you. “From now on, you’ll avoid all parties, unless me or one of the angels can accompany you.”

“WHAT?!”

You step off the bed, more like a makeshift futon, and stomp up to the posh bastard. Getting close to his face (and dangerously close to his mouth) you yell at him.

“That’s not fair at all! We were doing just fine until that jealous bastard got all in their feelings!” You pout, “plus, can you imagine taking Luke to a demon party?! I wouldn’t be able to LOOK at a demon, much less drink with one!”

Lucifer hums. He straightens up, and shrugs off his jacket. His eyes are dark when he looks at you again. You shiver, looking away when you remember the clothing you’re wearing. You didn’t think it would catch his eye but… there’s weirder things than a shortened half-naked protegee. You glance at him, noticing the way his shirt seems to hug his arms. He fills out the shirt and vest nicely, the second largest of his family for sure. You can’t help but drool over him. Your mind still muddled from last night’s alcohol.

“There is a way for you to make it up to me…”

- - -

Demon were cunning and creative. That’s why deals were such bad ideas for humans. Not that you’ve ever taken your own advice.

Taking the deal with Lucifer had been stupid, to say the very least. The most cunning of his brothers, only topped in the devildom by Diavolo and Barbatos, Lucifer knew how to play you like a goddamn fiddle and get what he wanted. Which was you on your back with your legs spread like melted butter, apparently. Leather trousers torn down the seam and leaving your crotch in Lucifer’s relentless gaze. Because of course you had forgone underwear.

His pointer fingers wraps around the chain around your neck, pulling as gently as he can. It still pulls you up quite harshly, but at least it didn’t take your head of completely. You try to complain, but his mouth surrounding your crotch turns your complaint into a very unsexy squeak. His mouth can’t get much movement in, but that’s not an issue for you. The rough, cat-like texture of his tongue sends your eyes rolling to the back of your head, and short gasps heave against your chest. Lucifer’s own eyes are closed, focusing on dragging that sinful tongue of his over your sensitive skin over and over again.

“Ah-,” you’re cut off by your own breath catching in your chest. Lucifer hummed. It was torture, the way it sent vibrations all around your body. You writhed, held down by a soft giant hand around your midsection. So effortlessly keeping you pinned. You sobbed, begging for more, for mercy, for the slightest bit of reprieved. Which only made Lucifer moan, the power getting to his head. Your small hands did no damage to him. He sucked gently.

Your orgasm was so sudden, so overwhelmingly new. Nerves fire hot. It leaves you seeing white, head thudding against the table Lucifer had laid you on. When you finally regain control of your body, you feel exhausted. Body heavy from the earth-shattering orgasm Lucifer had given you. Lucifer. The head of the household, the supposedly most responsible man in the house. Fuck.

He scoops you up in his calloused hand, and sets you down again on the handkerchief bed. Tucking you in with a corner of it. Sleep drags your eyes shut, into a sweet, Lucifer filled dream.