#lust? more like bloodlust

[kaybkay8]

I've had it with people saying Lust was a bad villain. Yes she was the first killed, but that doesn't make her a bad villain. She was exceptional at what she did. She was a leader among the homunculus. She was in charge of both gluttony and envy and was clearly highly respected by them. Her death was crucial in showing just how powerful flame alchemy was and showing that homunculus could be killed. She was one of the smartest homunculus. Her biggest flaw was having a ruthless streak. She controlled her anger and prevented envy from getting too carried away. She was an excellent villain and performed her role excellently. She had one of the most dignified death scenes that is a favorite moment for a lot of fans. I just don't get people disrespecting her. Her death was a turning point for the show and I have nothing but appreciation for her

[specialgradefckr]

Heatwave: Day 1

tw: explicit content, 5k+ words, reader/sukuna. female!reader, beta!reader, alpha!sukuna, true form!sukuna. oral (male/female receiving), PIV, size difference, sukuna has a knot, sukuna is lowkey a masochist, some anal (not the reader's ass).

Prompt: Betas serving as royal sex concubines without fear of pregnancy.

It wasn’t as bad as one might expect, being Ryomen Sukuna’s concubine.

Oh, he was terrifying, certainly. Death wasn’t uncommon in the household, though rarer than some might think.

Sukuna traveled often, sampling both the lands and the people within them, returning to the estate only when it pleased him to do so.

Everyone in the estate knew their master’s expectations and the consequences for not meeting them. Only the rare missteps resulted in punishments, though they were indeed brutal.

On some occasion, the lord’s aide would bring half-dead curses - or corpses of enemy sorcerers - to a separate building on the estate for some strange and nefarious purpose.

It made no difference to you. The estate was clean and well-maintained, the servants attentive, and the stocks never ran low.

You were living the perfect life.

No one denied you anything. You could summon merchants, make the odd trip into town, and entertain yourself however you wished, provided you fulfilled your responsibilities as a concubine.

You were a nobody before you came to the estate.

You’re still a nobody, but everyone here is a nobody in Ryomen Sukuna’s eyes.

Your lifespans are determined by how useful you were to him at any given moment.

And he had an unexpected use for a common whore like you.

It was probably more surprising that you were a beta, and not an omega – infinitely more desirable for an alpha like the lord, one would assume.

You’d never presumed to pry before, but it’s easy to speculate, after having known him long enough.

He’s a powerful man, utterly indifferent to societal standards or norms. His desire and satisfaction were above all other things, just as he was above everyone weaker than him. And everyone was weaker than him.

It was hard to imagine him at the mercy of an omega’s potent pheromones, longing for the comfort of his partner’s nest, pining for the love of his mate, or driven madly to lust by the scent of a rut.

Or perhaps he indulged plenty, but so much fervor could only end in bloodlust on his part. Any omega summoned to his chambers to serve his pleasure never returned.

You do fare luckier in that respect. He may not have been gentle lover, but as long as you’d served him he’d left you with no more than bruises and bite marks.

And he could hurt you, destroy you, utterly disfigure you in permanent and terrifying ways… with just a casual glancing blow.

Sukuna is present on this night, though, and it appears he’s summoned you.

His aide, Uruame, is far closer to him than any of his concubines, and by now you know the sound of their footsteps slowing as they near your door.

They smile at you as you open the door for them, bowing before your eyes meet theirs.

Uruame is not fond of any of their lord’s concubines, as a rule. Being a beta themselves, it’s unlikely they understand Sukuna’s needs as an alpha any better than you do.

But what they can understand is that you respect their lord immensely. A sorcerer yourself, you know enough to appreciate the scale of his power, and you had never made any secret of your admiration.

Unlike many other concubines brought in, you had very little arrogance to show for your beauty and bedroom skills. Uruame probably does appreciate that.

You’re a beta from a brothel, so you have no delusions of self-importance, but Sukuna, and by extension Uruame, couldn’t care less where you came from.

You know their purpose as soon as they arrive; they don’t need to engage in any inane conversation or instructions.

As soon as Sukuna had returned, you’d readied and dressed yourself in case he were to summon you. It happens more often than not whenever he’s back at the estate.

You suspect you’re the only one he summons during his rut.

His omega concubines are… single-use. Your fellow betas are few in number, and he’s no more forgiving with his concubines than he is his other servants.

You follow Uraume to his room. You can’t tell if he’s in a rut or not, but your suspicion is confirmed as Uruame gives a short nod, then strides off.

Sukuna doesn’t like being seen during his rut. Many have learned the hard way.

“Well? What are you waiting for, an invitation?” His voice is as gruff as ever. Low, heady, a delicious groan that sends shivers down your form.

He didn’t ask to be answered, of course. The only appropriate response to Sukuna’s question is action.

Quickly you slide the door open and shut it behind yourself as you fall into a low bow. You don’t meet his eyes without permission.

“Get up.” Your cue to sit up, to not bother with any further formalities. His rut must be well underway. “Come over already.”

You don’t waste any more time. He sounds impatient, and he probably is, but any less deference could see your head separated from your body. It’s especially important not to touch him first, to let him touch you.

Sukuna loathes being touched without permission.

It’s not something you have to worry about, though. As soon as you’re within reach, one of his hands bears down onto your shoulder; to him, it’s as good as an explicit instruction.

You never subject Sukuna to the indignity of having to voice his desires.

Perhaps that’s why he likes you so – there’s a flash of something pure alpha, an intense delight in his eyes as you kneel and attend to him in prefect obedience and submission.

Falling to your knees at his feet, wasting not even a second, you work to free his painful erection from the confines of his clothes.

Practiced hands accomplish it easily, and you’re rewarded with a large hand that strokes through your hair, brushing it back out of your face and holding it there.

His erection springs forward, as impatient as he is. His knot is already swollen up.

It’s red and flushed, pink to match his hair, heavy and thick like all the rest of his limbs.

Even an omega would blanch at taking such a monster. You are well-trained.

It’s enough just to lick at it, some cursory strokes to wet the shaft with his precum, to touch your lips to his heated flesh. Searing, really.

Wide, open-mouthed kisses dragged along him until his cock is coated well enough with spit and his own pre.

Without any further hesitation you open your mouth wide and take him all the way down to the knot, lips thinning where his cock swells and throbs.

The head is already lodged in your throat, and you swallow as you take it down, pressing your lips in. A moan tells you he’s already growing sensitive.

It wouldn’t feel very good for him to knot in your throat – he’s never bothered with it before – but there’s always a flash of satisfaction in his eyes.

Sukuna doesn’t want to knot your throat, but it pleases him to think that he could. That you are willing and ready to take it, if he wished.

“Good little beta." The mouth on his abdomen seems to grin at you, wide and dripping saliva.

A fire ignites in your belly at the praise, face heating up, your own mouth opening wide.

No matter what you are, Sukuna is an alpha through and through, and the desire to please surges as his hand presses you forward.

As a concubine or a common harlot, you’d always been good at your job.

Sorcery had delivered you from the streets and into Sukuna’s estate, and diligence, determination, had kept you alive throughout it all.

Others died around you. Weak. You would do whatever it took to survive, however ugly it may be.

Taking cock down your throat isn’t even close to the most degrading thing you’ve done, and at least there’s only one man now for you to serve.

He’s not even a bad lay. Either a suppressed instinct to please his mate as an alpha or some fortuitous chemistry has always ensured he brings you to release whenever you fuck.

The unmarred half of his face is undeniably handsome, and after all you’d seen, you’re utterly indifferent to the deformity. It’s just there. A part of him like any other – the other arms, the other mouth.

You’re sure you yourself have flaws in his eyes, but if he truly did not want you, you’d never have been allowed in his chambers to begin with. Sukuna is a man with absolutely no interest in pretenses. He takes what he wants, when he wants it, always.

Sometimes, you think that you and Sukuna aren’t all that different after all.

An alpha who was malformed, cast out by society, recognized only in disgust or fear.

And you, sold by a father eager to make any money he could off a pretty beta daughter.

You were unfit to be an alpha’s bride, but perfectly suited to be every alpha’s whore.

If you wanted happiness, you had to seize it, even if it meant choking the life out of someone else.

Both of you were worth only as much as you could curse others. Sukuna’s worth is greater than yours, but in his shadow everyone is equally worthless, and in his gaze – at least for this moment – you are worthy of him.

The fingers in your hair tighten; a hiss, “Take it!” and you suckle diligently as you bob backwards, diving forward straight away to take him to the root again.

Inhuman though he may be, his cock is much the same as any other alpha’s, if a bit larger.

Hot, smooth skin, veins that pulse and bulge inside your mouth. A salty taste you’d grown accustomed to, a stretch in your mouth and your jaw that you ameliorated by focusing on hollowing your cheeks, dragging your tongue along it.

Betas can’t purr, not like omegas or alphas can, but you approximate it with a hum, a gentle sigh through your nose and fluttering, lowered lashes.

A low exhalation. Controlled. “There she is…” The hand in your hair goes to stroke possessively over your cheek. “My little beta. All for me.”

His eyes dilate in lust – you always meet his gaze while you do this, for as long as you’re able, you know he likes this – and you know before you feel the touch of his hand on your jaw to begin drawing back.

His hand barely ghosts you before you move, leaving trails of saliva strung between your lips and his shining cock while you gaze up at him.

Another theatric he enjoys. His tongue darts out from his lips, grasping and stroking himself, hand coated in a sweet-smelling oil you recognize.

His other arms reach to grasp you by the shoulder, pulling you up to stand and burying your face in his neck wordlessly.

They wrap around you, pulling you into him as he steps back to sit on the bed where you follow.

It surprises you every time, just how much your body comes alive at his touch.

Heart racing as if it can jump through your skin and into the hands that trace your throat, your collarbone, down your chest, dragging the slip of a robe you’d worn down with it.

Sukuna likes undressing you, alpha that he is.

Like you’re a sacred treasure to be unveiled only by his hands. You always wear something easy to take off, and nothing else.

His touch is your leave to respond in kind; he’s fully bared, now, all tattooed skin and corded muscle.

A warrior’s form, conveying power and strength in every divot and valley. Your heart races as you lay your hands on him.

Maybe it’s the thrill of it.

Sukuna is utterly untouchable. The greatest sorcerers of your time had died failing to scratch the smooth, unbroken skin he offers to you so freely.

As a concubine, you don’t get much contact. Less still, since no one would dare lay a hand on a consort Sukuna summons so often to his side.

Normally that suited you just fine, but sometimes with him you feel like a dog straining on a leash.

Desperate for him to reach out, to feel him on you. Lust and adrenaline coursing through you the instant he makes contact.

Even as a beta, this close, it’s impossible not to smell him; he’s pulled you to his throat on instinct.

His scent glands are right there, and you don’t hesitate to lick at them, letting your breath ghost over the hot, spit-slicked skin. Dragging your teeth along the swollen flesh.

That’s one of the things he likes best. He knows you’re a beta. You have no fangs, you couldn’t mark him if you wanted to. Not with anything but curses.

But still, it is a pleasure. The salt on your tongue, the flesh that yields beneath your teeth, even without breaking, as the alpha’s aroma fills your senses.

Sukuna is spiced; harsh, in some ways, like cinnamon, but warm like a pleasant woodsmoke, like the heat of oil burning in a lamp. Just this side of decadent – opulent, almost, and still primal and raw.

It doesn’t affect you like you imagine it would an alpha or omega. But it’s nice. He smells nice.

You don’t hesitate to nip at his lips when he presses them to yours.

Perhaps one of the reasons Sukuna hates being touched without permission is because he also doesn’t care to be touched gently.

If he weren’t in rut, you would have dragged your teeth over his cock while it was in your mouth, but he’s not able to savor such services in his current state.

They’re red, so red, all his four eyes staring into you. Burning in want. In want of you.

“Fierce little thing.” You can taste his grin, you’re close enough. “See how fierce you’ll be when you’re full of me. My beta. Mine.”

“Yours,” You agree breathily, and lean back in to catch his mouth with your own.

His lips are one place you’re able to make him bleed, dragging the bottom lip beneath your teeth and pinching it, then darting your tongue in to taste.

Sukuna hums at the taste of metal in his mouth, sucks your tongue between his lips to press and purse and suckle on at his leisure. Brilliant red eyes half-lidded in lust.

Your hands get to work, one of them cupping his jaw and then his hair, brushing it back in a way that makes him preen now that he’s in rut and can’t suppress it.

Alphas love getting petted, and Sukuna loves the scrape of fingernails over his scalp, a tight tug against his hair; it all sends his knot pulsing against you.

“Here. Your mouth had a taste, let’s see how your cunt likes it.” His arms lift you up just enough to sit over his well-muscled legs.

Your thighs spread while his cock falls forward, between your thighs.

Sukuna holds you there, just far enough, letting it rub against you with little tugs to your hips. Desire sparking like flint where his length rubs against you. Fuck.

Oh, you want him. Ache for him. It pulls low in your core, to lean into him, to feel his arms holding you in place, to feel him all against you.

You wrap your arms around him in return, clawing at his shoulders as the mouth on his stomach tongues between your legs. It’s exquisite and agonizing all at once. Slick and dragging against you, heavy and broad.

He’s already purring at the taste of you. Hands clenching in desire over the roundness of your hip.

You want him. You want him.

You can have him, take him, touch, touch, touch. Dig your teeth into the firm muscle against his neck to feel his purr grow louder under your teeth.

Your curse technique flickers at your fingertips, dancing over the open canvas of his back.

Inhaling sharply, you think you hear him swear, and then, “Yes.” He laughs breathily, “More. Put more into it. That can’t be all you’ve got.”

It isn’t. The sound of him is everywhere now, vibrations that shake you all the way to your core.

The mouth on his belly still laps at your folds. It drools on your folds like you’re a meal he cannot wait to savor.

Sukuna is already running hot. It’s too easy when he’s like this, all heated, blood pumping heavy through every part of him.

Just beneath the surface you feel it; searing, boiling, heat jumping up to meet your touch. Like liquid fire underneath his skin, you’d heard it described. Exhilarating, Sukuna had called it.

A talent half-learned by accident in the steamy, lurid, filthy recesses of the brothel you’d worked at. A dark place filled with malice and jealousy, reeking of curses in every corner. One day you’d awoken with a strength that sung in your veins, screamed to be used.

You had learned to vanquish shadows with a flick of your wrist, the creatures bursting from the inside.

Once, on a lark, you’d tried it on a client who struggled to maintain his hardness. It had been remarkably effective, pooling blood in his cock, and with a little work you were able to reproduce it in other ways.

It had all been success from there. Climbing the ranks, scoring pleasure into the flesh of those who paid you well enough.

Oh, it was painful, too, but what pleasure in life came without a little pain? If you wanted something, you had to be willing to sacrifice for it.

A founding principle of jujutsu. It’s no wonder Sukuna so delights in battle, either against sorcerers or in his own bed; when you heat his blood in his veins it sends his knot pulsing, throbbing, twitching in excitement as pre drips out.

With him holding you so close you can feel his purring throughout your whole body.

A rare pleasure, a prize you win with vicious effort, cursed energy surging in your hands as you rake your nails over the glorious, muscled expanse of his back.

“Open,” Sukuna commands.

It’s a tone that never fails that make you tremble in anticipation. Your cunt is already dripping with it.

The part of your legs widen, and you lean back to look down at where he’s settled against you.

He’s so large. Always so large. The knot swelling already.

You’re clenching already, quivering, like you’re the one in heat and not he in his rut.

God, you want him to fuck you already.

One massive hand reaches down, stroking over his cock, wet with your saliva, his precum, and the oil substitute for an omega’s slick.

It nudges at your cunt and you let out a short whimper that sends him snarling, thick fingers digging sweet bruises into your hips.

“Always so sweet for me,” His lips ghost over your temple as he stares down, “Delectable. Strong little thing, you can take it.”

The head of his cock slots against your entrance. Fuck, it’s hot, burning, searing, you’re so fucking ready, your cunt is weeping and you feel like keening for it, “Please. Alpha, please.”

You can almost see it in his eyes, red and feral with need. Omega, my omega, my mate – all the things you’ve heard from alphas before.

Clingy, possessive, biting at you, rutting into you like they can breed you. All the filthy things whose beds you’d warmed in the past.

They all pale in comparison to the King of Curses. Hot and throbbing and silken against your entrance, the deep grunt of effort that you feel when he lines himself up and drives himself in.

The very sensation knocks the wind out of you.

Sukuna slides in easily but it’s tight, so tight, always. You feel him feel it, too, all those muscles growing taut before you as he sinks into you.

Your arms tremble before they remember what to do; grasping carelessly at his shoulders, clawing for purchase as the whines claw their way up your throat. They’re shoved back down by the deep moan you make when he reaches the end of your passage.

“F-fuck,” it’s good, it’s so good, it hurts so good and there’s nothing you can do but sit there and take it. Just as he told you to.

It’s always a bit painful, but there’s a pleasure in it, too, the piercing delight of being so thoroughly fucked into. You swear you feel yourself dripping out where he enters you, and you moan again at the feeling of him dragging himself out.

A low noise, a chuckle; like every sound Sukuna makes, you feel it just as much as you hear it.

“Do it again.” He demands, and you would never make the alpha wait.

You couldn’t even if you wanted to.

He pushes into you again and your moans crack, because he slides through easier this time but it’s just so big, so fucking huge you feel your walls trying to flex, envelop him, desperate to find any give at all, but there’s just no give.

It’s like having solid steel lodged inside you, burning hot and smooth against your core.

“Good beta.” Sukuna effortlessly lifts you up by the hips, dragging you off his cock and savoring how you whine at its loss, “My good little beta. Squeezing me so tight.”

He drops you down, down, back onto him. Cock thrusting up into you, cleaving your cunt apart, hitting a spot that makes you wail. Sukuna laughs, and you can feel his cock twitching.

“Need my cock, do you, little beta?” The rut is at its height now, pulling him in, smearing possession all over his face, his evil grin. “Even if it breaks you apart?”

All you can do is nod while you pant. He pulls you up and down by the waist, fucking you on his cock like a tool for his pleasure –

And Sukuna has never failed to use a tool to its fullest extent. “Fuck, fuck – fuck, alpha, please – please, please – ”

His own laughter is broken up by heavy breaths. One of his huge hands grasps you by the scruff of your neck, and you try to go obediently limp but your whole body jerks with the unrestrained force of his fucking into you.

Tight and unforgiving, baring your throat for him to dive into. An alpha in the midst of his rut. His teeth graze over your neck, licking where scent glands would normally be.

“Please,” Your breath catches in your throat at Sukuna’s kiss, all teeth and feral smiles pressed into your skin.

He stays like that for a moment, knot pulsing desperately just outside of your cunt.

Grinding into you like he thinks he can fit it in – you both know it can’t, you simply don’t have the anatomical space of an omega. But it feels good.

So good. It rubs, hot and throbbing against your clit, and fuck if you don’t nearly cum from it right there, tightness in your core heavy and ready to burst.

“Sukuna,” You say his name in a broken moan.

Teeth in your jugular. Hot tongue over your throat.

Hands gripping your sides. Moving you up and down like a puppet.

Cock pressing and pressing into you, relentless. Pleasure lapping at your insides as his cock rocks into you, begging to be let in.

A thumb on your clit, rubbing circles. “Cum, beta. Cum for your alpha – hngh – cum now – ”

Pleasure bursts through you, as if brought to life by his words. White hot and overflowing, every part of your body floating on air.

It’s like you’re a feather in his hands. Airy lightness fills you and even the stretch between your legs feels pleasant, a welcome intrusion, cunt blissfully numb.

Sukuna fucks you through it all the while, breathless, determined, on the brink himself as he chases the friction of you squeezing the life out of him.

You twitch in his grasp, aftershocks trembling through. He holds you upright easily, letting your head fall forward while he drags you up and down, mindlessly brushing his burning knot against your entrance.

It’s several moments before you catch yourself; it makes no difference to Sukuna. Your climax brought him closer, but not there, not just yet.

It’s with the giddy sort of warmth your afterglow brings that you lazily grope the space next to the bed.

You find the vial of oil he’d used earlier, and easily unscrew the top and spread it across your fingers with a single hand.

Sukuna had stared a moment the first time he saw you do that. So you have a sorcerer’s dexterity after all, he’d said, and it was the compliment you’d treasured most to date.

This time, his eyes don’t leave your body. All four of them, red and fiery and burning into you. Your chest. Your face.

They linger where your bodies are joined, at the stretch of your cunt taking him, the hole that has no more to give him but squeezes him anyways.

You can tell by his ragged breaths he needs more stimulation, heavy in rut and knotted tight as he is. That’s fine. You’ve done this before.

Slicked fingers find his waist, and then lower, to his ass. He parts his knees further, as if for more leverage to thrust fruitlessly against you, and you take the opportunity to squeeze one well-muscled cheek with your dripping hand.

The sharp inhale – you’re sure he’d hate to hear it called a gasp – “Beta!” –  tells you you’re free to go ahead.

So you do, digging your fingertips into his ass, into a hole too well-oiled to not have been prepared beforehand.

A rumble swells, in his chest, his throat, pressing hard against you along with his cock, nudging his knot further against your entrance.

You tease along the rim and then drive into it. He hisses as it burns, knot throbbing against you, massive hands squeezing bruises and then caressing them as soon as they bloom.  

It’s delicious, the way it clenches at your fingertips, tight and furled up, but you slip in easily with his preparation and your oiled fingers.

Darting into the yielding warmth of his insides, a pleasure that has him seizing against you, all muscle and magnificent form trained on your touch.

Your cunt clenches at the thought, the power you have in this moment; it squeezes the cock spearing you and sends tremors through his form.

“Clever girl,” He rumbles as you drag along his insides, “Clever fingers,” another heavy thrust, fingers twitching, “More,” thrust, shudder, “More!”

With a heated urgency your fingers curl, feeling, pressing around in a way that has Sukuna panting, teething at your shoulder, kneading hands against your hips while you search for just the right spot.

His knot presses insistently against your entrance, where there’s no space for you to receive it, but it catches on your oversensitive clit enough to make you gasp and whine.

Sukuna grins, mouth wide open, drooling like the feral, satisfied monster he was.

“Beta…” he hums, and it feels like he’s saying your name, as close to a loving coo as a creature like him can make.

And then, then, you find it, as you have so many times before. A high, keening noise Sukuna would be otherwise unwilling to part with, drawn out from him in the height of his rut.

You press into a bundle of flesh through his insides. A spot that sends him rutting wildly against you, unconcerned with his knot or anything besides fucking and feeling more of that pressure into him.

It’s almost all you can do to keep it coming, your other arm flailing desperately to reach around him for any kind of purchase while he thrusts your mind away.

Pleasure finds you again but this is liquid flames instead of white hot.

It pours out from you, spilling everywhere, the feeling of his release spurting inside you.

Full, full, fuller, so full you swear you’re bursting, it feels so fucking good. Flowing out over his cock, against your cunt, where his hurried thrusts squeezes it into a lewd, sopping met against your clit.

This one brings tears to your eyes. The sound of it, wet and squelching, utterly lewd, like you can feel the tremors of pleasure that have you milking him for cum that cannot impregnate you.

His hands are all that ground you, points on your body where his touch had ceased to be painful, to be anything but a feeling of him against you, the warm and powerful alpha who’d taken you to his bed, monster or not.

Sukuna groans and pants his heart out, still fucking into you while your eyes are glassy and all movement has left your body.

Your clever little hand fallen to the side as its purpose was fulfilled, his knot finally unraveling into the delicious joy of breeding you.

Ahh. He can admit the look in his eyes when he looks at you is fondness, to some degree. His perfect little beta. Wicked fingers and the smartest mouth he’d ever seen. Always so good for him.

He lays himself down alongside you on the bed, still buried deep in you, cum leaking slowly away.

The mess never bothered him, not in the torrid, heated moments of bodies entwined. He’d bathe with you later.

So warm. Always warm and welcoming him, your cunt is the most exquisite hole he’s ever known, but it’s the rest of you that makes it worth his time. Every time.

There’s something about it that sends a frenzy through him.

A hurried urge, like a desire to run or jump or lash out, but instead it makes him want to wrap his entire self around you and laugh in wicked delight.

It feels like fire on the battlefield, blood on his tongue, power coursing through every pore, seas ready to part at his command. It feels like strength, but he’s not even holding you very tightly.

He takes a deep breath, face pressed to your hair; beta. A faint, pure, neutral scent, so unmistakable in its cause. It elicits no particular reaction, stirs no great curiosity or lust.

But you do. It’s easy, natural, to wrap all four arms around you and squeeze. Your perfect figure yielding in his grasp, compressing beneath him, legs folding as he swings one over yours.

A purr rumbles deep in his chest as the sensation envelops him.

Touching, holding, entwined. You, completely full of him, made docile with his cum and his knot, surrendering to his embrace. All his. All for him.

Your boneless, weak figure in his arms, the little sigh of bliss you let out… it’s a feeling that’s only come to him in the midst of battle, curses coursing, glorious, in every direction.

A thrill of triumph that enervates, lightens every one of his limbs and sets him with a feeling of utter satisfaction.

Sukuna is purring in earnest now, and he can’t even bring himself to be annoyed by it.

Why suppress his instincts for the beta that so perfectly warms his bed? Why restrain himself in any way, when you’re wholly incapable of binding him, of bearing pups or marking him, and serve him with such delectable vigor?

An arm, so much smaller than his, slowly slips itself over his waist. You’re barely conscious, pretty face all flushed from your climax, unable to even open your eyes.

But your head drifts towards his chest even while asleep, where the vibrations are the strongest. Tucked under his neck, nestled in him and his scent.

An alpha’s purr is usually a sign of contentment, but it’s supposed to be soothing to omegas. As far as he knows, it doesn’t have any particular effect on betas.

Sukuna supposes it’s probably just you.

It’s so easy to reduce you to want, to unrestrained lust, pure and devoted entirely to him. Why should he need an omega when he has this at his beck and call?

You can’t be bred, of course – that was the whole point of using a beta. But sometimes he does wonder.

What you would look like if you were with child. Breasts heavy with milk, the mild scent of a beta humming with the life nurtured within.

You’re strong. You’d produce fine offspring. Your curse technique is interesting in its own right – igniting a person’s own cursed energy from beneath their skin. Not remarkable in effectiveness, but wholly unique in its operation.

Would it stop his ruts, to see you pregnant for some time? You’re the only one he spends them with, so seeing you pregnant might just delay them, without the influence of an omega’s hormones. 

Would he grow more aggressive as you neared delivery? Would his instincts command him to slay your spawn so he could fill you with his own?

Uruame is a beta, and has the necessary parts. He could breed you without all the tiresome mechanics of a bond between alpha and omega; place his two favorite subjects together and watch as his loyal subject bred his most treasured concubine for him. 

Watching you take in the seed of someone other than him… but Uruame is a beta, and belongs to him as much as you do. If he scented them as well, perhaps? They always had very little scent of their own.

Heat stirs within him at the thought. It’s too early to tell if it’s anger at the idea or arousal, especially in the state he’s in.

You make a little noise, and all four eyes shoot down to look over your form, all sweat and heat and dripping cum.

He shifts to move some of his weight off of you, sliding onto his back and settling your head on his chest so you can drift to sleep to the sound of his purring.

After all, his rut is just beginning. Sukuna can spare you some rest…

For an hour or so.

[team-frightfur]

Hah! Found it.

Me looking at Yuri before he kills me.

sorry it kind of sucks i tried my best ^_^

[plz reblog]

[yandere-writer-momo]

4k follower special. Lesbian vampires 🧛‍♀️

Yandere Head Canons:

The Guard Dog

Yandere Vampire Servant x Vampire Afab Reader

TW: Yandere behavior, stalking, mentions of murder, dom/sub dynamic, cunninglingus, afab parts used, etc

Mila had been a servant for a millennium with you as her mistress. You were her savior and her world! Her reason for existence! The air that she breathes… you were everything to her!

You had saved Mila from the slums over a thousand years ago and she had been ever so dutiful to stay by your side. It was only natural to bow to someone stronger than you, and she would always be subservient to a powerful creature of the night as yourself.

It wasn’t uncommon for her to bathe you or to make sure you had the best quality blood to consume. Only the best for her mistress! And Mila would personally eliminate anyone who stood in the way of your happiness!

No other servant has lasted as she has. Mila drove off any potential bed mates other than herself. There was no one quite as willing as her to please you. You didn’t need anyone else other than your loyal dog! Your eternal guard dog, Mila!

Mila murdered every vampire hunter and every obstacle that dared to overthrow you. There was no one as loyal as her by your side… your eternal guard dog.

Mila was mean and cruel to anyone that wasn’t you. Her massive form towered over most men and women and her face was intimidating to gaze upon. A destructive, blood thirsty dog that only wagged its tail at you. How funny it was to see such a massive force of destruction on its knees begging you to allow her to give you cunninglingus. A reward you made sure to always indulge her in fear of her losing interest (a fear that would never come true)

All she wanted was for you to acknowledge her overwhelming love. Her face is often buried between your legs as her tongue greedily lapped at your damp warmth. Your essence was far more delicious than any blood that ever touched her tongue, a flavor she wished she could taste for all eternity… if she would be allowed to be between your legs forever, she would do so without compliant. Mila would do anything you asked of her!

Just like now as she sat on her knees before your regal form, her face pressed in between your legs. In a few hours it would be daylight, but Mila felt as if she deserved a reward for killing all of those hunters who wanted to rid this world of you. Mila was still quite high from her bloodlust and she absolutely had to have her fill of you…

Mila gasped when your palms tugged at her wavy black hair. Your fingers tangled in her thick wolf cut as you smiled down at her.

“Ever so eager to please, my pet.” You cooed as your free thumb brushed your juices off her scarred lips. What an enticing sight. “I promise you can always have your fill.”

“Please let me please you more, mistress.” Mila begged with a whine, her red eyes hazy with lust. Her being palms grasp at the flesh of your thighs. “You taste so fucking good…”

You sigh and spread your legs a bit farther. “Do as you please.” You gasp when she gets right back to work, her tongue greedily lapping at your folds with the fervor of a woman possessed. Mika’s crimson eyes staring up at yours expectantly. “Don’t… don’t stop.”

Mila moans as she continues to perform on you. Mila loves how you tug at her hair and grind your hips into her eager mouth. Yes! Fuck her face!

Mila continues to feast on you throughout your climax, her strong hands hold your thighs in place to prevent you from escape.

“Mila! Mila!” You cry out her name as you shake and tremble, but your servant merely continues the eager pace of her tongue on your swollen clit.

Mila presses a sloppy kiss to your poor, abused cunt before she pulled back to admire your flushed cheeks. A smile on her face to see that the blood of those hunters had allowed you to have a bit more color to you… it made her feel alive once more to know the effect she had on you.

“I love you, mistress.” Mila rested her head on her thighs while your fingers brushed some of the wavy locks out of her face. “And I will forever live a life of servitude under you.”

“You don’t have to-“ You squeaked when Mila pushed you back on your bed, her fingers began to pull down the waistband of her trousers.

“You are my sun, my moon, and my stars. I will love you until my last breath in this lifetime.” Mila bent down to press hot kisses all over your neck and cheeks. “Without you, my existence is nothing.”

You gasped when she began to undress before you. You could now fully take in just how immense of a woman she was…

Mila took your hand and guided it up her abs and to her left breast. “If I still had a heartbeat, it would beat only for you, mistress.”

Mila now rests above you completely bare, her hand still held yours in place. “Now just give me the order and I’ll please you, mistress.”

You smirked at Mila before you reached your free hand out to her. “Then ravage me, my pet. My eternal guard dog… I love you too.”

[masuchu]

“𝐈𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐒” [GENSHIN MEN]

ways that the genshin men fuck you on your period ‧₊˚

genre. filthy smut, period sex, mentions of blood (obv), mentions of overstim (childe), cunnilingus (childe), mentions of punishment sort of, body worship (kaveh), sort of brat taming ?? (wriothesley) reader is femaleeeee

characters. childe, zhongli, kaveh, wriothesley

love, masu. aaaaaa i am on my period rn so this is so so self indulgent . it is also filthy . felt very very shameful writing this . (◞‸◟) neuvillette was also supposed to be in this but i have bigger plans for him …

(公子) 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄 ‧₊˚

We all know Childe is a menace on the battlefield. Obsessed with combat, addicted to duelling. Can not form friendships without fighting the person first. Needless to say, his bloodlust is perpetual and never ending.

You never really expected it to traverse into the bedroom, though.

Childe looks feral. His eyes are wide and hungry, unfocused and utterly hypnotised by your pussy. He presses a thumb into your clit, ignoring your cries and pleads of sensitivity, and watches as a large glob of blood ooze out of you.

“Ajax, please. M’ sensitive, it hurts…Agh!”

He completely ignores you. After a moment of intense staring, his mouth is back on your throbbing pussy, slurping both your juices and your blood. It is filthy, completely taboo. So why do you like it so much? Why are your thighs clamping down onto his head, as though you wanted to squeeze him into nothing? Why are your moans echoing and rattling the room, surprising even yourself with the depth and pitch of them?

You are broken out of your daydreams by a malevolent bite on your clit. A compressing pain spikes across your body, yet with it comes such an addicting pleasure that your pleads become garbled and unintelligible.

“Ajax, please! Too much, please, please, p—please!”

“What are you begging for, pretty girl? You get what you’re given. Now, fancy shutting your pretty mouth before I shut it for you? Feel free to stop wriggling too!”

You can tell that the pause he took from devouring you angered him immensely, and though his words were spoken as if he was asking nicely, you know him.

You know him well enough to know he would not hesitate to ruin you if you didn’t listen.

“God, your blood is so pretty. Would never hurt you, so let me have this, yeah? Makes me so fucking horny, you don’t understand.”

And with that he is back to devouring you. Your wide eyes peer down and find that he is in fact, not looking at you. No, his attention is entirely on his meal. Blood is smeared all over his face, making him look so horribly sexy. It pains you to admit it. His pupils are dilated, you only just now notice his nails digging into your hips. Keeping you anchored on the bed. Keeping you vulnerable for him.

You think— as best as you can in your state— on his words. Of course, the throb in your core and desperation to cum makes you biased, but you conclude that maybe you should let him have this. He is focused on you, so the worst you will deal with is a few more orgasms than necessary, right?

You know what they say, never make decisions while you’re horny!

(钟离) 𝐙𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐈 ‧₊˚

Zhongli loves you unconditionally. His love neither wavers nor falters, no matter what challenges the two of you face together. May it morph and evolve? Of course, but it is firm and loyal to you. And only ever to you.

So what does he care that you are on your period? He is still hungry— greedy — for you, and no amount of blood will stop him from having your sweet pussy sheathed on his cock.

“Zhongli, you really don’t have too— Ngh..”

The man in question presses a thumb onto your lips, effectively quieting you and leaving you shy and flushing. Hips roll up into you once more, his length hitting exactly where you love it. His eyes burn into you, filled with infatuation and lust. How is it possible that those eyes are locked onto you, of all people? You don’t dare question it, an endless fear of jinxing it.

“Do not have to what? I do not have to love my partner? To pleasure them, hm? I would rather lose everything than never be able to have you like this again, my dear.”

Zhongli’s hips roll into you again at the most opportune time; damn tease, he knows how much his tender words get to you. Unable to do much but take his punctual thrusts as and when they come, you wrap you arms around his neck and nuzzle into his chest. His own palms find themselves gripping your waist, carefully lifting you up with ease and hauling you down again, slamming his cock into you at the same time. The feeling paralyses you, but the worry of your blood still lingers in your mind.

“Are you sure you don’t mind? My blood will get every—Oh!” It’s a vexatious thing he does often, silencing you. Divesting you of your ability to speak coherently, and enkindling your heart slowly and maliciously. You aren’t sure you have ever finished a sentence he hasn’t wanted to hear. Not in bed, at least.

“I have seen enough blood in my days. Though, I am admittedly much more pleased to see yours in this way, rather than another. Do not worry yourself, I want to ravish you always. A little bit of blood will not put me off.”

At this his hips resume at a much faster pace, splitting you open on himself with no care of your hoarse whimpers. With each frantic thrust, he breathes heavier and your body is bounced higher and faster. His hands are always there to guide you, dropping your aching body down onto him again, again, and again. You allow your moans to fall out of your mouth and reverberate throughout the room, not at all coherent enough to fathom the mountain of pleasure you are feeling, let alone the noises you are making. All your can think about is that delicious pressure building up inside of you, and the slam of his cock in and out.

Needless to say, new sheets were purchased the next morning. And it has been harder to doubt Zhongli’s love for all aspects of you ever since.

(卡维) 𝐊𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐇 ‧₊˚

“Does this feel better? Tell me what you want, love, I’ll give it to you.”

Kaveh’s fingers ruthlessly plunge into you, hitting places you didn’t even know existed. He had instructed you a few moments ago to hold your thighs for him, to allow him easier access. It didn’t register that it meant not only you couldn’t hold back your obscene moans, but also that he could bury himself so deep into you that you could taste him.

“You’re so beautiful like this… I wish I could sketch you. Another time. Keep moaning for me, pretty.”

The blonde in question had felt horrible all day. When he saw you occasionally hobble out of your room, hands gripping your stomach in attempt to stop the pain, his frown sunk deeper into his face. He had brought you everything you asked: ice cream, water, medication, kisses, new towels. Every deed was appreciated, but he couldn’t help wanting to do more. To take the pain away like a lover should.

A fitting explanation for how you found yourself in missionary with Kaveh’s fingers ambushing your pussy like no tomorrow, hm?

The blond in question traces his free hand along your shuddering body— squeezing any plush skin there is to squeeze, caressing absolutely anywhere you will allow him. Eyebrows furrowed, eyes concentrated. His pays attention to every beauty mark, every curve, every detail.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful. Every part of you is provocative, you know. Can’t believe this body of yours was in such pain, it’s cruel!”

His delicate fingers thrust into you again, such pretty hands turning you into a mess. It’s a humorous juxtaposition, really. His effortless beauty, and you— a moaning heap, heaving and sniffling like a whore. He wouldn’t agree, you knew he wouldn’t.

Before you can even contemplate how dirty and blooded his fingers will be, let alone complain, his lips press into yours and strangles your cries in a passionate kiss. He is not usually a biter, but he nips your lower lip and watches in awe as it bounces back, swollen and jutted. He swears on the Seven that you will kill him one day. You’re too goddamn sexy!

“Had me running around all day, when all you needed was this? Don’t worry, I’m not complaining, baby. Would run—fuck, a million miles around Sumeru City if you asked me too.”

A second hand rubs at your clit. Your body has been pushed so far up the bed from his fingers, that when your back arches from the new sensation, your head slams into the headboard. Writhing, wriggling, screaming. Nothing frees you from him, from what he’s giving you. Both the fingers in you and on you continue their ministrations rapidly, and all at once, everything becomes nothing, and then too much. The taut string in you core snaps, and a flurry of arousal overcomes you entirely.

You ignore how Kaveh’s eyes widen, how he bites his lips and groans out a slow ‘Fuuuuck..’. You have no mind to worry about how you look right now, every bodily function betraying you as you lay lifelessly on the satin sheets. Mindlessly, your eyes attract like magnets to the beauty of a man still above you. Though, what you see immediately rekindles the flame of arousal in you.

Kaveh, his fingers in his own mouth. Sucking, slurping, devouring the lewd mixture of your blood and slick. It’s completely vulgar, almost foul. And yet you can’t help the way your mind goes crazy for the potential of having his dick inside you.

“Ngh, you taste so good on my fingers. Gotta make you do that again…”

“W—what did I do…?”

“You squirted, love.”

(莱欧斯利) 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘 ‧₊˚

Don’t get him wrong, Wriothesley feels extremely sympathetic for you. He can’t imagine having to undergo what is often excruciating pain, bleeding heavily and treacherous mood swings on the daily. Not to mention on top of his regular workload! It’s hell on earth, he’s sure of it, and he will do anything in his power to make life even a smidge easier for you.

But he can only withstand so much of your bratty behaviour. Only so many ‘Ugh, you’re so annoying!’s before he starts to tick. You are in pain, yes, but it isn’t his fault! You can only bully him for so long before it begins to get under his skin.

“Just needed something to fill you up, huh? Does it make it feel better, sweetheart? You’ve certainly lost your— ngh, spark now.”

Wriothesley slams into you so hard you body writhes, and the bed you were thrown upon only a couple of minutes ago seems to disappear beneath you. A floating sensation engulfs you, and you grip the sheets in a fear of loosing all ground. A chuckle leaves his lip and taunts you, but you can’t imagine snapping back before he is, yet again, pounding into you and plundering all ability to breathe.

“Where’s that brattiness gone now, hm? If it’s still there, be sure to let me know. I’d be happy to fuck it out of you. Fuck, my cock is covered in your blood…”

The sight of your ichor coating his length entirely spurs him on, if his borderline monstrous thrusts are anything to go by. An overwhelming nothing settles in your brain, absolutely nothing except him, him, him, and the pleasure he is blessing you. Your lewd moans echo throughout the room, intensifying when his fingers travel down to press mean circles onto your clit. A divine surge of arousal flows through your body, and all at once, an orgasm swallows you whole.

“Cum for me, that’s it. Good girl.”

Lifelessly, your body flops onto the bed, no longer able to sustain the position on your hands and knees. With a few more bone rattling thrusts, Wriothesley finally reaches his peak and fills you up with his thick cum. He rides out his high with short little grinds, before joining you in succumbing to the comfort of the bed. The pads of his fingertips traces patterns along your arm before travelling up to caress your face. It’s hard to talk with the helplessly lovestruck and spent daze your brain is under, and with your face pushed into the pillow, but you meekly moan out;

“M’ sorry for shouting at you, Wrio. Didn’t mean it, I promise.”

“It’s perfectly okay, missy. Wouldn’t have an excuse to feel how tight you at this time if you didn’t.”

You scoff into the bed and let out a muffled insult, something along the lines of “dirty scoundrel.” Wriothesley pinches your hip, but he isn’t angry. He just chuckles breathily. The silence is tender and soft, until:

“Fuck, will this blood stain my clothes?”

2024 © masuchu , do not repost, reword, plagiarise, take inspiration, translate or share my work anywhere!

[dancingbirdie]

For your smut ideas- astarion leaving bite marks on your thighs👀 pretty vampy elf being all possessive👀

Hi, anon! I loved this request, but I have to warn you: I took it to a bit of a darker place than I usually go. Pay attention to the tags, y'all. I hope you enjoy!

Like my smut writing? Find more here.

Your Feral Love

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Pairing: Astarion x fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings/Tags: Biting, descriptions of blood, possessive/obsessive Astarion, marking/claiming behavior, oral sex (fem!Reader receiving)

Summary: Astarion has an intense desire to claim you. This time, it's in places the others won't be able to see.

*****

“Maybe we need to take things slower,” you murmured in Astarion’s ear. You swallowed thickly as he dragged his fangs across the sensitive skin of your neck. 

“Whyever would we do that?” he whispered huskily, undeterred from continuing his sensual assault. You shivered as you felt his tongue slide up the column of your throat, unable to stop the little moan that escaped your lips.

“Some in our party are worried… about all the bite marks…” you managed to explain, despite the tantalizing option to just lose yourself in Astarion’s embrace. His cool touch was a balm to the inferno he was stoking within you. The creator of your lust; the only cure for it. 

But his lips withdrew from your neck at your response. Pulling back, he met your gaze with furrowed brows and a glare that could make even Lae’zel balk. 

“Who.” he demanded, his voice strained with barely-repressed anger. “Who had the audacity to murmur about us?” 

His fingers spasmed where they clutched your waist. As if he were bracing for the moment when someone would come and yank you away from him. 

He was possessive, your lover. Astarion hadn’t had anything to call his own for over two centuries. Not a thing. Not a soul. Now, after having lowered his guards and allowed you in, his possessive streak was as long and wide as the River Chianthar. He was never far from your side, even in battle. And on the rare occasions he was separated from you, you could feel the heat of his gaze tracking your every movement. Watching you. Making sure his one claim in this world was safe. Accounted for. 

The bite marks were a consequence of having not only a possessive lover but a vampiric one as well. You didn’t mind, of course. He always asked for your consent. 

Can I bite you here?

Your blood is singing to me, darling. Can I taste you here? 

What about here? Would you let me sate myself here? 

You flourished under the intensity of his love for you. The bite marks were a reminder of that, and so you cherished each one. Each was a memory of the way Astarion had taken, given and enjoyed you. Heat would sometimes color your cheeks and neck later on, when you caught sight of a pair of healing puncture marks, recalling just how they had come to be there, on that particular part of your body. 

But others in your party didn’t share your view of these markings. They, namely Wyll and Gale, were worried Astarion had started taking too much of your lifeblood too quickly. You could understand their concern, to some extent. They didn’t know, didn’t have reason to know, how little of your blood he actually took each night. Most times he would drink barely a mouthful before stopping. The urge to claim you in other ways would overtake his bloodlust, and you would climax again and again as he fucked you into oblivion. He kept his fangs punctured in your skin during times like these, claiming that your blood felt sweeter against them as you found your own release. Only when he had spilled himself in you would he remove them, and by then you were too lovestruck to care how long the markings would remain. 

“Tell me, darling.” 

Astarion’s voice brought you back to the present moment. You shook your head to dispel the thoughts distracting you. 

“...Mostly, Wyll. And Gale, to a lesser extent. I don’t know for certain about the others, although I certainly don’t think anyone comes to our defense…” you trailed off, swallowing thickly. 

You caught how Astarion clenched his jaw at your words. He was livid, that much was obvious. You also surmised his anxiety was likely surging within him, the paranoia suggesting that someone or something would cause you to be taken from him. Again, his fingers spasmed against your waist. 

“...So maybe we should… I don’t know, keep a lower profile about all this? If they say something to you directly, I know I’ll not be able to stop myself from fighting with them,” you explained, clutching his cheek desperately. 

“Tsk. Of course the ones who would have a problem with us would be the only other two who’ve been sniffing after you,” Astarion scoffed.

“What the hells are you talking about?” you asked, clearly confused. 

“Oh, darling. Surely you’ve seen the way they look at you? How they talk to you? I certainly have,” he huffed. 

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t pay them attention, Astarion,” you reassured him, nuzzling your nose against the curve of his jaw. “I only have eyes for you.” 

“And I, you,” he murmured, pressing his lips lovingly against your forehead. 

You hummed in delight at his affirmation. While you might not show it through bite marks like him, your possessiveness of Astarion was a fearsome thing, too. The emotion sometimes staggered you, even in the most mundane of moments, like when he donned his armor for the day, or when he cleaned his daggers in the firelight. He was yours. You were his. Anyone else was tertiary. 

The two of you remained in comfortable silence for some time, limbs intertwined as you lay halfway on top of him, your head resting against his chest. There was no beating heart within to listen to, but it hardly mattered. You knew that what was there, beating or not, belonged to you and only you. Astarion had said as much, amid previous bouts of lovemaking you had shared in this tent.

Your musings broke at the feeling and sound of his throaty chuckle beneath you. You lifted your head to meet his gaze, surprised. 

“What is it?” you pressed.

“I have an idea,” he smirked. 

“I usually like your ideas,” you quipped, heat flaring in your lower abdomen at the suggestive look in his eyes. 

“Then you’ll surely enjoy this,” he crooned, before flipping you both over all at once so that you were flat on your back, breathless beneath him. He fit perfectly between the cradle of your thighs, your legs parting almost instinctively to accommodate his presence. With one arm, he propped himself up above you, while his other hand clutched your leg to bare you open wider. The position alone had you growing wetter by the second, anticipation for what was to come driving your thoughts wild. 

“Much as I detest pandering to their concerns, I think we both know I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from fighting with them either, were they to say something directly to us,” Astarion admitted. 

“But,” he continued as his nose skimmed the length of your abdomen, heading further and further south. “I also can’t deny how much pleasure it gives me to mark you as I do… to see the evidence of where my fangs have punctured your lovely skin. Mine. No one else’s.”

You bit your lip in a futile effort to stifle your moan as he began brushing the lightest of kisses against your inner thighs. He slid down lower, his face mere inches from your naked form. This close, you were certain he could smell your arousal. And no doubt find evidence of it as well. 

“So what is your idea?” you managed in a breathy whisper as your hips canted toward him, seemingly of their own volition. 

“How about I mark you here,” he cooed, his fangs sliding along a particularly visible vein that spanned the length of your leg, beginning at your groin. “Where only I can see. A place they can only dream of. A place only I have been.” 

You groaned, skin tingling, nearly electric, in every place his mouth touched. You reached down to card a hand through his carelessly flawless locks, tugging ever so gently on the curls. Astarion growled in response, sending a surge of heat through your lower abdomen. 

You were teasing a livewire at the moment, and you knew it. Just a little push, and you would ignite something truly mind blowing. You chose your next words carefully, readying yourself for the delicious consequences that would no doubt ensue.  

“I’m yours, Astarion,” you whispered, spreading your legs even further for him and clutching his face desperately. “You can lay claim to me however you wish.” 

Another growl ripped from his throat at your words and, in a blink, your lower body was pinned to the ground. His arms banded under and around your thighs to hold you in place, not that you had any desire to move. You whimpered as Astarion nipped and sucked his way across the expanse of skin, his nose grazing your soaked cunt from time to time, causing you to jerk with want. 

“Please,” you begged, desperate to have his mouth on your swollen, throbbing clit. He was so close to where you wanted – no, needed – him to be and yet still so far. 

“Oh no, not yet, darling,” he purred against the plush skin of your thigh. “I’m going to mark you until I’m satisfied first. Then I’ll give you what you crave, I promise.”

You whined, a pathetic little sound, but nodded your assent anyway. Any touch from him was better than nothing, even if it did cause your cunt to ache with a nearly unbearable need.

Then a sudden spike of iciness on your inner thigh had you gasping in surprise, morphing into a long, low moan as you realized Astarion had actually bitten you there. You could feel him sucking your lifeblood into his mouth, your sense of touch being so heightened in your aroused state. 

You lifted your head to watch him move from one place to another as he marked and sated himself. You cradled the side of his head lovingly as he fed from you, swiping your thumb rhythmically across his temple. You were utterly entranced, lost in the delicious feeling of him claiming you, as well as the way he beheld you as he sunk his fangs in again and again across your skin. 

He looked at you with the fervor of a madman. He clutched at your legs like some covetous creature. Drunk on the need to possess, to claim, to mark. It was dark, powerful, and heady. And you absolutely reveled in it, ravenous with want as you witnessed how his love for you manifested in such an incendiary way. 

With a moan of his own, he finally broke from his feasting. Lifting his head to meet your gaze, your cunt clenched at his expression, at his his bloody mouth, grinning widely with purely male satisfaction. 

“It should be a crime, you know,” he rasped, his chest heaving with uneven breaths. “How delicious you taste.” 

You whined at his words, desperate to have him taste you in another way.

“Shh, shh. I know, I know,” he crooned, squeezing your legs reassuringly. “I know how you want to be tasted now, darling. Don’t fret.”

Your back arched off the ground as, without another word, Astarion dipped his head to plunge his tongue inside your dripping core. Your mind short circuited as you felt his nose press against your clit with intent as his tongue continued to spear into you. It was almost too much to bear; your nerves already were nearly raw with desire. 

You couldn’t help the wail that burst from your lips as you felt his tongue lick up, up, up, until he was circling your clit with long, languid strokes. You fisted a blanket and bit down on the fabric, the last shred of your self-awareness working like mad to muffle your sounds.

You knew Astarion was too far gone to care if anyone heard you both, as evidenced by the obscene slurping and smacking sounds that emanated from his lips. That alone had you ratcheting up faster toward climax, relishing the way it felt and sounded to have Astarion feasting on you with such utter abandon.

A few more moments of floating in that delicious limbo and then you were crashing back down from the height of your orgasm. It felt like an almost spiritual experience, though no cleric could ever convince you that a god’s love would feel as good as this, as good as Astarion’s love for you.

Panting and shivering in the aftershock of your release, you clutched at him desperately, eager to embrace him with as much strength your jellied limbs could muster. He crawled up to lay haphazardly on top of you, head resting in the space between your breasts. You combed your fingers through his hair lovingly, content to remain in companionable silence.  

“I’m realizing now that I may have in fact gotten a little out of hand…” he murmured against your sternum after a while. 

“Perhaps,” you chuckled. “But I’ll take your feral love over anything else, my star.”

[abbysbug]

werewolf!ellie x vamp!abby x fem!reader

CW; pussy eating, fingering, blood drinking, blood kink, pain kink, piercing flesh, mentions of fighting, collars, overstimulation, cum eating, subish!ellie, name calling (mutt), slight pet play ig??

A/N; the puppy is literally ellie as a werewolf

discord

-

The most difficult times of the month were full moons and blood lusts. Naturally, they had to fall on the same date this month.

“So fuckin’ irritating,” Ellie growled. She was kneeling next to the bed, her hands behind her back and her pink collar wrapped snuggly around her neck. Each time she moved slightly, the bell on the collar rang and made her face heat up in embarrassment.

“Does the mutt ever shut up?” Abby mumbled. She was sat behind you, holding your back to her chest and licking long stripes up your neck causing you to shiver.

She was getting desperate, and that made you want to force her to wait even longer. But denying her meant denying yourself, and you didn’t like the idea of that.

“Don’t call me that!” Ellie snapped.

Abby muffled a laugh against your neck. Her favourite game is riling Ellie up, especially before she transforms. Whenever Ellie and Abby’s events fall on the same date, once Ellie transforms and Abby lets her bloodlust fully take control of her, they fight. It’s a good way for Ellie to get her energy out and for Abby to control herself because apparently, werewolf blood tastes like ‘trash’.

Your thumb swipes against Abby’s lips and her mouth falls open. You trace her fangs, and she hisses softly. Her fangs are always sensitive.

“Are you going to be able to control yourself tonight?” You questioned.

Abby has been alive for centuries and have experienced more blood lusts than years you have lived. She’s learnt to control herself, but sometimes you get nervous.

“Of course,” She whispered, “But if I can’t Ellie is here.”

The bell on Ellie’s collar rung at the mention on her name.

You looked at Ellie. She looked so adorable. Her thighs were covered in slick and there was a puddle of slick on the floor between her thighs. Her sex drive and arousal levels were heightened when it was a full moon, and you fought the urge to tease her for it.

You patted the empty spot between your thighs, “Hop up,”

Ellie eagerly climbed onto the bed. She positioned herself to be laying between thighs and looked up at you with awaiting eyes. Her hair had gotten thicker and eyes larger.

Now, you looked at Abby. Her eyes were locked on your neck.

“Be gentle.” You told her.

She was not gentle. You cried out in pain as she dug her fangs into your neck and her grip around your body tightened. Ellie was quick to react, her lips wrapped around her clit and two fingers pushed into your weeping hole. The pain slightly outweighed the pleasure.

Finally, Abby’s venom entered your blood system. Vampire venom is used for many things, one of them being for sex. The venom causes immense pleasure and forces your brain into a haze.

Abby groaned against you and blood drippled down your neck. Her fingernails dug into your sides, and you whimpered.

“Oh fuck, Ellie.” You moaned and buried your fingers in her hair, tugging her closer.

Everything was overwhelming. You never last long when Abby is drinking from you and Ellie is between your thighs.

Abby pulled her fangs from your neck and licked over the bite. Her saliva heals you faster. You thought she was done drinking, but she dug her fangs back into you.

Ellie’s fingers relentlessly pumped into you, and she bit your clit softly. Her piercing green eyes didn’t leave yours. It was fucking incredible how she fucked you. Your slick was dripping down her wrist and onto the bed, and her face was covered.

Your orgasm unexpectedly hit you.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your back arched. Pathetic moans and whimpers left your throat. You tried to push Ellie’s head away from you as you were already overstimulated, but she tightened her grip around you.

Again, Abby pulled her fangs out and licks over the bite. Her grip on you loosened, then tightened again. She was fighting herself.

“Ellie,” She mumbled.

Whatever Ellie had said, it was muffled.

“Ellie,” Abby snapped.

That caused Ellie to pull away from you. Her face and arm were drenched in your slick. 

You wanted to whine and cry about your approaching orgasm being ruined, but you know they couldn’t control it.

Ellie pulled you into a kiss and you moaned into her mouth at the taste of yourself. You both panted as you pulled away.

Abby stood from the bed and that’s when you noticed how close she was to losing control. Her eyes were red, and her face was covered in your blood. Her tongue darted out and licked some of the blood on her lips. She was waiting for Ellie.

You took Ellie’s collar off and gave her a quick kiss. Ellie grinned and stood from the bed, offering her slick-covered fingers to Abby, who denied them. She shrugged and shoved them in her mouth, licking herself clean.

In a blood lust, Abby is always closed off. She was just trying to control herself from going wild on you, so you never took it to heart.

They both left the room, Ellie looking back at you sadly. She preferred to be with you when she transformed. It comforted her.

The venom was still buzzing in your system and your post-orgasm made your brain feel hazy. A yawn left your throat, and you buried yourself under the comforter. It was probably a biohazard to sleep in a blood and cum covered bed, but you didn’t want to move.

You closed your eyes and sighed. They’ll be back once you wake up.

-

a/n; if ive used bloodlust in the wrong way...ummm mb

@mystellenia

[megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms]

The Strongest Cullen

Based on this request:  I loved your Jasper headcanon! Could you write a fic with it? Like Jasper meets his mate, but she’s human and he’s scared he’ll hurt her because of his strong blood lust. After they get to know each other, the reader tells Jasper what she thinks(your headcanon) and that she knows he his stronger than he thinks and that he won’t hurt her.

Here you are! I apologize for the wait! Familiar characters are NEVER mine!

Fandom: Twilight

Warnings: Mentions of vampire diet(I mean, it's Twilight), Jasper is an anxious boy. Fluff!

Pairings/Characters: Jasper Hale x fem!reader, mentions of other Cullens, specifically Emmett.

Carlisle frowned at the look on his adopted son's face. While Jasper was always tense around humans at school, he had never come home looking so morose. "Jasper?" The blond looked at Carlisle and sighed. "My mate…is human." It didn't take long for Carlisle to catch the drift. "And you're worried you'll harm them?" Jasper nodded which caused Carlisle to ask about the bloodlust around the mate.

       "I don't-I don't feel the need to drain her. Really, I hardly feel the bloodlust around her, but what happens if an accident happens to someone else while I'm around her? I'm the weakest link, we all know that, especially after what happened with Bella. If someone else is bleeding around us, I can't guarantee she won't be hurt as well."

       Carlisle smiled a little and patted his son on the shoulder. "Jasper, I really don't think that will happen. If you don't feel the bloodlust with her, it's possible that she will actually be able to calm you. Maybe you should give her a chance. You know mates, true mates, are a rare find. You should give it a chance if that's what your heart is telling you no matter what anyone else says." Carlisle left Jasper to think on what he'd said.

*time skip*

       Jasper couldn't fight his smile as you laughed after beating Emmett at Mario Kart…again. "I told you, Big Bear, you cannot beat me," you said with a giggle. Emmett pouted playfully and you leaned back into Jasper. A smile made its way to Jasper's face. He was more than happy that he gave loving you a chance. Still, he worried that something would happen to you. You were, by nature, fragile compared to him.

       "What's on your mind, handsome?" you asked, carding your fingers through his hair. Jasper sighed before standing and reaching his hand out to you. You didn't hesitate even a moment in taking his hand. Jasper led you up to his room and closed the door. For a moment, Jasper said nothing. He had no idea how to approach this with you.

       "Jasper? Are you okay?" you asked, looking up at him with such concern, the vampire melted. "There's something I need to tell you," he whispered. You sat down on the bed that Jasper, unbeknownst to you, had purchased simply so you would have somewhere to nap when you visited.

       "Okay. You're scaring me a little so just…get it over with." Jasper chuckled a little to himself. If you were scared now, he could only imagine how scared you'd be after he told you. "I-that is-my family and I…we're not exactly normal." You snorted a little. "No shit. What's normal about being so damn beautiful it should be illegal? Or never, and I do mean NEVER eating even though your mom cooks like a gourmet chef? Or the fact that none of you look like you get any sleep? Or the fact that I'm always so calm around you?"

       Jasper heard his family laughing downstairs and sighed. "Beautiful, you are not making this easy," he joked. You gave him a smile and took his hand. "I'm sorry. I was trying to lighten the mood a little. Whatever it is you have to tell me, I'm ready to listen."

       "We're vampires." The words just came out, as easy as breathing. You blinked at him for a moment and for that moment, Jasper couldn't feel any emotion coming from you at all. It frightened him, honestly. But then as suddenly as it happened, you were back. "Vampires? O-Oh okay. Well that explains…a lot actually." Jasper couldn’t feel any fear from you. Just curiosity.

“I can feel that you have questions. Ask,” he stated. He wanted to get this over with, just in case you chose to break his heart. You pondered for a minute as Edward’s laughter drifted up to Jasper. Clearly the mind reader had heard something funny in your thoughts. “So you’ve got some vampiric powers or whatever, right?” Jasper nodded and a slight frown made your brows furrow. “Does that mean Emmett’s been letting me win Mario Kart?!” 

Jasper stared for what felt like an eternity. Then, before he could stop himself, he began laughing. Really laughing for the first time in a very long time. “Really?” he asked between laughs, “I tell you to ask questions and that’s what comes to your mind?” You shrugged a little. “Look, I expect to cream your brother at video games fair and square.”

“You, Darling, are something else.” You beamed and gently tugged at his hand so he would sit down next to you. “Got you to laugh, didn’t I? Jasper, if you thought I was going to run, then you clearly don’t know me at all. We’ve been together for what, eleven months now? If you were going to hurt me, you would have already.” Jasper’s smile dropped almost instantly, but he replied, “There’s more. Some vampires have…gifts.”

“Since you’re telling me this, I assume you’re one of those vampires?” He nodded. “I am. I’m an empath. I can sense and influence anything anyone is feeling. Sometimes it even happens by accident. Edward’s a telepath.” It was in that moment your face finally showed fear, but that conflicted with what Jasper was feeling from you. 

“Y-You mean Edward can read minds? Like every mind?” Jasper confirmed, but mentioned that Bella was the exception. “Oh that’s…not good.” Jasper arched a brow and smirked a little. “Don’t look at me like that. You are insanely good-looking and there may have been a few…not so innocent thoughts a time or two.” Jasper shook his head fondly and chuckled. “Really though, why are you telling me this now? Has something happened?” Jasper denied it, but replied, “It’s only a matter of time though. I-I’m not as…strong as the rest of my family when it comes to our diet.”

“Your diet?” you asked, squeezing Jasper’s cold hand a little tighter. “We feed on animals. It sustains us, but not as well as human blood. I’m newest to the diet besides Bella and have struggled the most. I’m a weak link.” Your confusion grew in an instant. “Why do you say that? Do you think you’re dangerous to me? Do you want MY blood?” Jasper immediately denied your thoughts. “No. I just need to warn you. Accidents have happened around me. I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.” He then proceeded to tell you what happened with Bella and you asked a few questions.

Once you’d gotten your answers, you sat in silence for a little while. Jasper felt your emotions, confusion, curiosity, love, devotion. No fear, uncertainty, or disgust. That was a good sign. “What are you thinking, Darling?” he asked after a few minutes. “I don’t think you’re weak, Jasper.” His eyes widen. Had you not heard what he said? “What?”

“Think about it,” you told him, “You’re an empath. You said yourself that animal blood doesn’t satisfy as well as human blood.” At his nod, you continued, “Well then, it stands to reason that, when Bella gave herself that paper cut, you were all feeling some form of thirst, right?” Again, Jasper agreed. You nodded like you’d just solved a great mystery.

“There you go! You weren’t just feeling your own thirst, Jas. You were feeling Alice, Emmett, Rosie’s…everyone else’s as well. The thirst of seven vampires hitting you all at once. No wonder you snapped. You are absolutely not weak, Jasper Hale. In fact, I think you’re the strongest person I have ever known.”

Your impassioned words left Jasper speechless. His eyes filled with tears that would never fall. “I don’t deserve you. You are too good for me. You understand so much more than I thought you would. You’re compassionate and brilliant and I think I…love you, Y/N,” he admitted when he felt like he could finally speak again. You beamed at him. “Nonsense. You deserve all the love I have to give. And I love you too, Jasper. Fangs and all.” He rolled his eyes as you giggled.

(a/n: I hope you like it!)

Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard @supernatural4life2022 @asgards-princess-of-mischief

Twilight Tags: @awesomebooklover17

[gutsby]

Bloodline

Pairing: Dark!Marcus Acacius x Reader

Summary: The General needs an heir.

Warnings: 18+. NONCON. FORCED IMPREGNATION. Unprotected p-in-v. Arranged marriage. Throatfucking. Face-slapping. Breeding kink. Praise and degradation. Age gap. Dacryphilia. Fear play. Omitting one tag to avoid spoiling the ending—please read at your own risk.

Note: Silphium and pennyroyal (or ‘glechium’) were herbs commonly used for contraceptive purposes in ancient Rome.

Word count: 4.4k

You woke up knowing you were fucked.

In more ways than one: today brought your husband home from his latest campaign in Germania, and last week, your only batch of contraceptives was running low. Now, it was gone. You cursed the apothecary who had sworn she would procure your silphium drink before you were to see the General again, but presently, there was nothing more to be done. You had tracked your cycle and knew you were ovulating that week. You just hoped your husband would be too battle-weary and overwrought to seek a place in his bed, between your own legs, tonight.

‘Down’ came the order before the door to your chambers had even closed behind Marcus Acacius later that day.

Down meant he wanted you lying back.

Down meant your thighs had better be spread apart by the time he reached the bed. He wasn’t a patient man.

Down meant your meticulous menstrual contrivances had all been for nothing; you had been married to the General for almost a year, and in that time, you had promised yourself you would never bear him a child. While the only reason for your being forced to wed in the first place was to give him a son, you despised the idea of being the Emperor’s pawn. A vessel for the next awful bloodlusting boy to be born—you had been a present from your uncle Geta to Acacius, and ever since then, you had come to hate them both. You drank your herbal teas daily, without them ever knowing, and you feigned ignorance when, after months and months of the General’s best efforts, you never fell pregnant by him.

Today might very well be the day to change all that, if you had to judge by the look in your husband’s eyes, though.

The harsh, dark irises were alight as he approached you. Their gaze betrayed little more intrigue—or curiosity to know how you had been these last three weeks he was gone—than sheer lust. You could see it in his movements while he peeled his armor apart and drank your body in.

He shrugged the last scrap of metal and fabric away and climbed over you in bed. His motions were graceless, and his body was heavy. He smelled of dirt and blood.

“Wider,” he told you.

Wider your legs spread. He slipped between them, and with an affectionless, rough grip, he grabbed your wrist.

“Touch,” he commanded.

You obeyed that, too. Your fingers were guided to, and wrapped gingerly around, the thick, warm base you had come to know well since marrying Acacius. He pulsed proudly beneath your hand, and the grunt he gave said he was expecting this the whole long while he had been away. You stroked him slowly. Firmly. Contemplating.

“My love—” you started, low.

“Quiet.” Your husband’s voice swiftly supplanted yours.

It bid you to do as you were told, and open your mouth for nothing else but to pleasure the appendage you held.

You knew better than to speak in moments like these. But you also feared, for very good reason, that if you didn’t interject now, you may never get a chance to prevent this dreaded thing. It would only get harder.

He would only get harder.

“Husband,” you tried more warmly, stroking his cock as though you loved him, like weren’t repulsed by the thought of birthing his son. You forced your gaze up, too.

And no sooner had you done that when a hand landed across your face. Your cheek flamed; your skin bristled.

“My sweet wife insists on being heard, does she?” the General broke in, and you could tell it was through teeth, “Does it look like I’ve even begun to fuck you yet, girl?”

You shook your head that it didn’t. Your face stung, and you were about to look away when you felt the same hand that had delivered the last blow take your chin.

The General tilted it back up to his.

You felt him harden even more seeing tears start to well.

“Whatever it is, tell me after. I’ve waited too long for this.”

From his tone, you could tell that meant more than sex.

An heir.

He must have known you were withholding something.

Your hand moved quicker. More nervously. Worrying.

“Allow me to…to use my mouth, then. I-In other ways.” You hated even saying it. Your voice trembled as you did.

Silently, you braced yourself for another hit. Your wrist worked relentlessly, moving up and down the man’s shaft with little more intelligible thought in your head than the fear of being punished by him, when it stopped.

The General halted all movements of your hand. He eyed you once, uncaring, and then shook his head. The next thing you knew, you were being shoved off of the bed.

You never thought you would feel such relief sinking to your knees on the floor. You were good at this—could finish your husband off in under two minutes, easy—and for once, you were happy to feel the man’s fist in your hair. Holding you firm, guiding you fast, and being his normal gruff, callous self to force you onto his cock.

He filled your mouth quickly. Though it might not have meant much to a girl who had never seen, much less sucked, a dick in her life before becoming a wife, Marcus was big. He fit uncomfortably between your lips and stretched your jaw until it ached. At length, you let him move your face up and down, again and again, wetting his shaft with your slick, shiny, delicate strings of saliva. You almost felt grateful to be made to move so fast, so your tongue couldn’t get fully acquainted with his taste. You gagged lightly when he shoved you down to the base. Your eyes rolled back; his belly grazed your nose.

“You look better when I’m in you,” Marcus said coldly.

He dragged your head back, and you inhaled a breath. Your eyes rose to his, and he smiled—he saw tears again.

You blinked and let your expression fall limply, knowing how much he loved seeing you weak. You took the tip between the seam of your lips, and you kissed it once. Then you kissed it again. Your mind grew dizzy with the idea that you might actually get to swallow his load and be left alone the rest of the night if you only kept going.

You opened wider to do just that when next you heard:

“You’ll look better with my child inside you.”

As if galvanized by some sharp, unseen electric current, you wrapped your lips around his head. Fully. You tried enveloping the rest with your mouth, desperate to get your husband’s mind off of putting himself anywhere but at the back of your throat, and you hummed. The man above you gladly pushed himself further. You choked.

And just when you were about to force a breath through your nose, flatten your tongue and prepare to go deeper on the man you disliked most in this world, you felt him coax your gaze up to him. Tears were streaming down your cheeks at this point. You had to blink once or twice to even see him. When you had, you found him beaming.

For once, the General’s gaze was soft as he watched you.

You felt him tug your hair forward, and your lips went with it. Your throat resisted at first, but then it relented. In just a few moments, he was sliding down your throat.

You felt powerless. Your husband seemed to know.

“We’ve been unlucky, haven’t we?” he asked.

Surely, the question was meant to be rhetorical, for you couldn’t move your mouth without gagging on his cock.

Instead, you blinked. More tears flowed down your face.

“Nearly a year of being my wife, and still no child.” If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve taken him for contrite.

He sounded like he could’ve been forlorn, but the tone he used was too smooth. Slow. His voice was like molasses, almost. And then he moved his hips and sank in deeper. Your throat opened because it had no say in the matter.

You blinked harder, and more tears fell.

Please cum, please cum, please cum—

“I have it on good authority that a girl your age should be as fertile as anything. It shouldn’t take this long to take.”

—just finish, just finish, just finish where you are.

Marcus shifted again, and this time, you couldn’t control the spasm in your throat. You just coughed, and sputtered, and gagged down his length. You jerked your head pathetically under his hold, and just barely were you able to steal a gasp of air. The man loosened up.

And though his touch was less tight, his voice almost soft, and his eyes as bright as they had ever been, the words that followed after struck your senses like a fire.

Practically searing the insides of your skull when it came:

“You wouldn’t happen to know why that is, would you?”

You would’ve liked to swallow, but your esophagus was too chock-full of cock. Your lips were stretched, tongue flattened along his length, and your cheeks were now glistening with tears—from the strain of your husband’s intrusion, for one, and the fear of what he might already know, for another. You felt the head of his cock slide deeper down your wet and velvety channel before carving a path back up. Its ascent was slow. Teasing.

The fingers that were threaded through your hair held your head in place as he withdrew all the way to the tip.

“Answer me, wife.”

When you hesitated, the General slapped you again. His cock fell out of your mouth, and you coughed reflexively.

“I-I-I don’t…I don’t know what—”

“Think harder.”

A hit was shortly delivered to the other side of your face. You flinched, and winced, and right before you tried answering again, you felt your jaw forced open for something else. Rather than being made to let words fill the space, your husband’s cock was thrust in. It went far.

Your mouth was leaking with drool now. You couldn’t contain the spit. If anything, the General seemed to enjoy that as he slid himself further. Then he grunted.

“Why is it I’ve filled you with enough cum to paint the fucking Coliseum, and you still haven’t give me a son?”

You gagged. Your hands flew to his strong, bare thighs to grab the flesh out of habit, and once again, he withdrew.

“Why?!”

“I don’t know!”

Of course you did.

Still, you shook your head and kept your gaze plastered on his, begging for some shred of lenience. If he’d had any within him, you reckoned you weren’t seeing it that day. Before you could stop him, the General forced his way back into your mouth, and shortly down your throat.

“I think you’re a lying—” He jerked his hips once, to stab the very back of that place, “—pathetic fucking whore.”

You tried to whine in protest, but the sound was shortly muffled by his cockhead gliding back and forth in that wet, fleshy passage. Its path was suffocating. Your eyes almost rolled back from how fucking awful he tasted.

Please, please, your nails scratched at his legs like some kind of wordless entreaty. Your gaze was glossy and wet.

You could scarcely muster the strength to meet his own, but when you did, you found your husband smiling back.

He slid out of your mouth, and you could breathe again.

“We’ll try once more,” he said, pulling you up to your feet by your armpits, like he might treat a toy he didn’t like. When you were standing upright between his legs, you felt a shudder pass through your frame, and you tried to hide it. He leaned in: “Why haven’t you given me a son?”

“My body must not be r-ready.”

Wrong answer, apparently.

He slapped you again.

By now, your face was blooming with pain. Your skin stung, and your eyes burned, and you could still feel a trace of his precum trickling down your throat, and you hated him so much. But you had to be stoic. Insensitive.

Inventive.

“Silphium,” you stuttered out, before swallowing the awful tang you sensed and recollecting yourself, barely, “Pennyroyal, too. I hear there are…concoctions that help to make the womb more…more…hospitable, I believe.”

You were lying through your fucking teeth. Knowing your husband was far too dense and war-crazed to have ever consulted an apothecary in his life, and hoping he’d be stupid enough to accept whatever it was you said. When it came to things concerning your health, he rarely cared.

You swallowed hard and for once, felt a little more stable.

Then you were shoved onto the bed again, and any semblance of composure was sucked from your bones. You fell pathetically against the plush, satin covers of maroon and gold and were prone for no more than two seconds before the General started tearing your clothes.

“We’ll see,” he said simply.

He flipped you onto your back, and you writhed without really meaning to. You were operating on pure instinct, feeling a man nearly three times your age moving his hands across your front and ripping fabric left and right. It wasn’t fair. You could hold your tongue if he hit you hard enough, but your muscles fared worse when it came to constraining their natural inclinations. You kicked your feet, you squealed, then you begged him—

“Please, stop! I’m not ready yet! I can’t— I can’t— STOP!”

This was just like your wedding night. Only worse, because you knew exactly what lay in store with harrowing clarity and certainty. The General grinned.

“Pennyroyal, huh?” he sneered, yanking your clothes away while you thrashed and tried to push his hands off, “Is that what my wife needs to be ‘ready’ to bear sons?”

“Yes!”

“Silphium?”

“Please, please.”

There were fresh tears brimming in your eyes when he peeled the last scrap of covering off of your body and shoved you back down. You were shaking, and he was smiling, and as much as you knew the man hated being defied, you reckoned he took pleasure from the chase. Seeing the moisture well up and spill, feeling you crawl back in bed, meet his greedy, calloused hands and beg him over and over again not to make you do it, not now.

You could hardly even see him through your tears, but you felt him. Sensed his lower half forcing its way between your legs and then his member coming to rest on your belly. You squirmed at the feeling of your spit still coating him, and now brushing against you. You sobbed.

“You can’t keep forcing yourself inside me—”

“I can.”

“Won’t make a baby stick if you just—”

“I will.”

You felt betrayed. All your life you’d been force-fed these sunny, sanguine ideals of what motherhood was going to be, and this was all it was? After cherishing that prized thing between your thighs—like virginity were some real gift to be given—for so long, this is who owned it now? The General hadn’t had so much as a fraction of the compassion or patience a wife needed to feel secure. He didn’t treasure you, or care for your pleasure, or do anything to soothe the ache of his repeated intrusions. You couldn’t begin to think what he’d be like as a father.

Presently, he smoothed your hair from your face; not to comfort you any, but to make sure that he could see your expression when he sank himself in. When he took again.

“We’ll have to seek the Emperor’s best,” he murmured.

Your husband gripped one of your knees, and at the same time, held himself. You felt his thick, leaking head trail from your navel to your pubic bone, down exactly where you wanted him least. You tried to protest, but his grasp on your leg only tightened. He pressed you down into the mattress and wiped his cock between your folds.

“This pennyroyal you mention…” Marcus went on.

For some reason, your legs tensed as he said it.

“Or silphium. Whatever it is. Can we get it?”

His tip teased your soft, swollen clit—a place he rarely cared to touch—and, against your will, your body started.

Some minuscule ripple of pleasure there. You swallowed.

“Yes. We can. Please, just—” You glanced down between your body and the General’s then, and the sight nearly sent your head spinning. He looked so big. And cruel. And dripping with precum across your puffy, wet skin.

He knew this act well. You knew this act well enough, but for some reason, you thought your actions aimed at forestalling the inevitable might succeed this time.

You reached for his wrist, and your eyes pleaded with his.

“Don’t do this again,” you whimpered, feeling pathetic.

The General only shook his head, and he held on tighter.

“As your husband, I’ll do this as often as I please. And you’ll learn to like it, if you just stop fighting,” he said.

He found your dripping entrance, like he always did.

“Just let me in. Let me feel her, honey, I deserve it.”

You shook your head, but he pushed on anyway. Your stomach clenched, your walls tensed, and, in spite of your body’s strongest attempts, your husband notched the first inch of himself inside. He let out a happy sigh.

“That’s it. That’s a good wife,” he told you contentedly.

His girth was too much. It was always too much. No matter how slow he went, or how much you tried to prepare yourself, it always hurt. You whimpered at that feeling and had to bite your bottom lip to keep the sound from slipping out. Marcus nodded and kissed your cheek

“Sweet girl. ‘S’all she needed, see? One little inch, or—”

His words were cut short. Then he thrust in all the way.

“—eight, maybe.”

You shrieked and met his palm. It clamped over your lips.

That first stroke was torture. Dragging back was even worse. Re-sheathing himself and making you listen to his wretched grunts and groans of pleasure was pure agony.

“Will the herbs help? Pussy feels plenty ready to me.”

He was mocking you now. Your whines were stifled under his hand and your walls were forced wider for his girth as he sawed back and forth, over and over, without mercy.

“Nod if you want it,” he panted, “Nod if you need that.”

You weren’t sure if he meant the herbs or him. Slowly, and knowing he’d hit you if you didn’t, you nodded.

The General grinned. He didn’t hesitate to speak again.

“Good. Now you can stop soliciting apothecaries behind my back and using these same herbs as contraceptives.”

Your stomach dropped. Your eyes widened, though you knew it was a stupid thing to do when the man’s gaze was practically scorching through your own. You froze.

Your husband wedged his cock even deeper, and you felt him in your cervix—unprotected from any medicine now.

Medicine that he knew about, too, apparently.

You had no choice but to whimper when he kept digging his strong hips into yours, repeatedly, battering that soft, sensitive, defenseless place with his dick like he owned it. You wanted to kick your legs but sensed it was useless. General Acacius would get what he wanted.

What he needed was a son. You could see it in his eyes.

“My stupid, silly wife,” the General chided you, now fucking in deeper than he’d done before. Taunting, “I hope our son gets my brain, or the poor boy’s fucked.”

You wanted to cry. You were still sobbing, but the tears had come with such force before that there didn’t seem to be enough moisture in your body to allow them now. Any wetness, it seemed, was inside your legs, allowing your husband to pound into you with complete abandon.

Skin slapped skin. The man’s breaths grew quicker, more frantic, while your own you wished would halt altogether. His hand moved from your mouth to take your chin in his palm; he looked proud as he drilled your soft, limp body.

“Finish. Please,” you whimpered, all fight extinguished.

You didn’t know what else to say. Your husband had caught you, somehow, and probably knew as well as you that your body would now be forced to accept whatever he gave it. When that warm, throbbing member between your legs had had its fill and the man had decided he’d humiliated you enough, he’d paint your insides white. He’d shoot thick, hot ropes of cum where you’d dreaded him most, and in all likelihood, that seed would take. If not today, then tonight, tomorrow or the next day—there was no clear end in sight until the General had secured the heir he so desperately wanted. What Geta promised.

And you would be a mother, whether you liked it or not.

Every subsequent thrust, grunt, and groan rang hollow to you then. It was like your mind was lost from your body, your brain an open wound, and what was left of you simply splayed on that bed. Unmoving. Unfeeling. Being fucked and filled up without a modicum of concern for your humanity. Or what remained, anyway.

When he was finished and he could feel your body stuffed with his greedy, sticky release, the General leaned down and planted a kiss on your forehead.

He seemed more confident than ever as he spoke.

“I can feel my legacy has already been cemented.”

As it turned out, a month was enough.

Within the year, you gave birth to a son.

This was no great shock to you—getting forcefucked every night for five weeks straight would’ve done the trick for any woman in your position, you supposed.

What surprised you most was how gentle the General became after learning you were pregnant with his child. Ever the paragon of paternal affection and husbandly devotion to you from that moment forward, you were convinced the man had been transformed overnight. He never spoke so much as an unkind word to you, or gave a glance that said anything less than that he was in love and elated to help you bring new life into this world. He never forced himself on you in bed. You could sleep again

One morning, you were cradling your baby in your arms. In just a few short weeks, you had already memorized every inch of his soft, sweet face. And you knew from the first you’d never love a single creature more on this earth

When your husband approached, you smiled—beaming.

“How is my son?” came the deep warble of his voice.

You drew the blanket back an inch with just your finger; beneath the soft cloth, the two of you could see that the infant was sleeping peacefully. He made a delicate sound, and you were half-certain you could hear the General’s heart splintering in two along with it. He dropped to his knees beside you, where he leaned in near and let his eyes say all the rest. They were cheery. Wet.

Sometimes, you, too, enjoyed seeing him cry.

You pet his wavy grey locks and gave them a tug.

“Is he exactly as you pictured? Your legacy?” You smiled.

Marcus blinked, letting two warm tears trickle down.

“Better than I could have dreamed him myself.”

That made your heart swell with a still larger ache. This was all your husband had ever wanted—wrapped up in your arms and swaddled with wool. Your son looked like him, too. You could see the General’s appreciation of this every time his eyes fell to the child, and every time his gaze drifted to you. There was admiration. Adoration.

Love, for once.

“Will he be a soldier like his father?” you asked next.

“A much braver one than I ever was.”

“Will he do Emperor Geta proud by this calling?”

Once more, your husband’s eyes flitted from the baby up to you. His look was soft as he reached out for your hand.

“There isn’t a doubt in my mind of that, my love.”

You squeezed his palm. You couldn’t help yourself.

“And will he carry the Acacius family name with pride?”

At that, the General’s hesitation was even shorter than the last. He swiftly confirmed that his son would, indeed, wear his name like a badge of honor. There wasn’t a shred of uncertainty on that front, he assured you.

His smile was so wide you couldn’t help but mirror it.

Even as you slid the knife from in between the folds of your son’s blanket, you were smiling at him all the while.

“And what if he doesn’t?” you asked quietly.

The General’s gaze fell to the blade next.

You thought he might die on the spot.

“What if he bears no name at all?”

The serrated edge now hovered over the baby’s throat. When Marcus jerked toward the thing, instinctively, you only lowered it more. Brought the silver closer to skin.

“Please— You— you can’t— can’t— can’t— please stop.”

He was fumbling for words. You didn’t blame him.

“Your precious legacy is a fragile thing, General.”

And with that, you drew the knife closer.

Your husband let out a strangled noise.

Right when he rose to knock the weapon out of your hand, you took it and flipped it back around to him.

Your first stab was swift. Into his chest.

“My child will never know your name.”

It was clear the injury stunned him.

When you plunged the knife in again, the man let out another sound—this time, a grunt of pain—and you wedged it deeper. You didn’t flinch when his face twisted

“My son will take my name.”

Frankly, with the trauma your blade had already inflicted on his chest, you didn’t expect the General to be able to say a word. Or resist. By the look of horror in his eyes, you could tell he was capable of listening, though.

Now, he would be forced to hear it all.

See his own life taken away from him.

And feel the blade thrust in when you punctured his front for the third and final time. Your eyes were shining now.

Still cradling your child, still holding his gaze, still smiling like this was the single greatest day you’d lived to see.

“Acacius, your bloodline dies with me.”

[venussaidso]

𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧-𝐑𝐚𝐡𝐮-𝐊𝐞𝐭𝐮: 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐕𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐦

the prominent themes of vampirism such as desire, hunger, mystery and illusions tie so perfectly with the moon and its nodes. it wasn't surprising to find the nodes dominating this genre the most, along with the luminaries (moon & sun nakshatras, but more fittingly the moon). i will not be touching on the few sun nakshatras playing vampires, as the moon makes far more sense symbolizing true vampiric nature.

So many vampire movie posters have this luminous glow to them, likely done consciously because of these creatures' affinity for nighttime, and generally being nocturnal as they're extremely sensitive to any type of sunlight.

I've once briefly mentioned, in my "Moon Dominant Themes" post, that lunar natives can operate very secretly, such as 'working in the shadows'. And the whole lore of vampires always emphasizes their ability to hide themselves while still living among humans.

Vampires undergoing periods of dormancy and resurgence is interesting as that can also be linked back to the moon's cycles of waxing & maning. The influence that the moon has on vampires, in some legends, is during certain lunar phases in which they become more active. A full moon could literally mean that their strength has enhanced, whilst a moonless night could mean their desire for blood is heightened.

Rohini Sun Colin Farrell

Claire Nakti explored, in her "TOP 3 Most Magical & Mystical Astrology Signs | Cults, Divination, & Occultism | Part 2 (Nakshatras)" documentary, on the ability of Moon nakshatra natives to brainwash/mind control/hypnotize.

daniel kaluuya is a hasta moon, not rohini.

As these natives are often cult leaders, their ability to influence the mind goes back to their lunar-rulership. The Moon rules over the mind, emotions and subconscious. A vampire's ability to hypnotize humans and other lesser beings is in parallel to the Moon's influence over the psyche and subconscious.

This illusory nature found in vampires can be connected to the shadow planet, Rahu. As Rahu is illusions, desire, hunger. Rahu is very seductive and tempting; this could tie back to some legends in which vampires lure their prey giving them promises of pleasure.

Ardra Sun Tom Cruise.

In "Interview with the Vampire", Tom Cruise plays Lestat who is an overindulgent, greedy vampire. Rahu governs desires and the pursuit of worldly pleasures. It's related to insatiable cravings that lead to greed. The lustful nature of Rahu is seen in Lestat's intense bloodlust and the chaos it brings.

Rahu's associations with eclipses relates to their ability of being hidden in the shadows. Another hint is in Rahu being a Shadow planet itself, just like Ketu is which is also related to vampires.

The story about Rahu's head getting decapitated by Vishnu for trying to get a drink out of the nectar of immortality can be brilliantly paralleled with vampirism. Due to Rahu's consumption of the drop of the nectar, he became the infamous dismembered immortal. His dismemberment a symbol of the detachment from humanity to vampirism.

Rahu is considered an entity of darkness and malevolence, preying upon cosmic forces and defying the natural order of things (such as vampirism which does defy nature itself, ie. the dead becoming undead) in pursuit for immortality. Vampires are literal parasites, and Rahu is also parasitical. Vampires feed on humans without providing any benefit in the ecosystem in return, a one-sided relationship which resembles one between a parasite and its host. Rahu is depicted as insatiable and consuming, feeding and draining one's energy. It creates a cycle of thirsting for more without any fulfillment, a predicament vampires find themselves in.

Ashwini Sun Luke Evans

Rahu and Ketu represent the lunar nodes, respectively depicted as the head and tail of the celestial serpent. Their energetic interaction can be likened to the endless chase between a vampire and a vampire hunter, villain and hero, the friction between unlikely lovers. It's obvious in how Rahu embodies the insatiable hunger for experiences and the craving for fulfillment that it can be the vampiric force in such a dynamic. Like a vampire, Rahu relentlessly pursues its desires, often leading to greed and excess. And then you have Ketu, on the other hand, which embodies detachment, spirituality, and liberation from worldly attachments. It quite literally symbolizes the renunciation of desires and the quest for enlightenment, opposing Rahu's restlessness for more. Ketu is a cutting force, and like a determined vampire hunter, is skilled in tracking down illusions and breaking free from temptations.

Although it sounds like a more fitting interplay between Rahu as the evil force and Ketu as the hunter, it's actually more seen in the other way around.

It is more so that Rahuvians are the vampire hunters, which I found so intriguing; showcasing how Rahu is both the parasitical (illusory), and also the one to be rid of parasites (disillusionment). And I have explored this particular theme in my Rahu post -- how Rahu natives experience a lot of disillusionment from their reality, wanting to cast away the illusions that drain the life force.

The reversal of roles showcases the fluidity of the nodes; their roles almost always expected to reverse, illustrating just how Rahu and Ketu are deeply intertwined with the concept of karma, representing the push-&-pull between cosmic forces of destiny.

More nodal-vampire movies, and other examples in which Rahu & Ketu find themselves on opposite sides of the same spectrum in which they are both vampires, similar to the friction seen between Louis (Ketu) and Lestat (Rahu) in "Interview with the Vampire".

In the film "Fright Night", the one who has to kill the villainous vampire is an Ashwini native. It is also interesting how in "Queen of the Damned" (above, right), the villain is a Magha native who must be stopped by her Mula lover -- both being vampires.

As mentioned in the figure image about the film "Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter", where a nodal-ruled native is paired up with someone who is lunar-ruled, this is a type of pairing seen a lot in these supernatural stories.

Similarly to "Twilight", as Edward was the one to turn Bella into a vampire, we see the planetary reversal of this in which the lunar-native is the one who turns the nodal-native.

Or the film "Vamps" in which Hasta Sun, Shatabhisha Moon native Alicia Silverstone turns Mula Sun, Magha Moon native Krysten Ritter into a vampire.

It isn't a surprise that the moon and its nodes are related to the extremities of the mind. These energies can cause isolation due to how polarizing they come off in regular society (furthermore validating its relation to vampirism), so they become attracted to one another -- especially the nodal natives to the moon natives, because of how much they feel magnetized by them, and vice versa.

edit: also paul wesley could be a purva phalguni moon instead of magha, there is an unconfirmed birthtime out there + he is a pushya sun and i have noticed sun nakshatras along with saturn nakshatras in vampiric roles as well. might touch on this some time soon.

The presence of some Sun nakshatras in vampire stories is present and that could tie to the Sun's influence over the Moon despite the fact that solar symbolisms regarding vampirism don't exist, and vampires are far too sensitive to the Sun so much so that they get sunburn during the full moon where the sun's light reflects (interesting to think about). The whole point of a vampire is to lurk in the shadows or during nighttime, so the strict avoidance of the Sun could make sense in there being solar-natives in vampiric roles. It makes for an interesting contradiction, certainly.

Ketu is the body of the severed demon Rahu following the consumption of the elixir. Much like Rahu, Ketu is also associated to darkness and illusions. But it symbolizes the darker, unseen aspects of reality -- all the hidden forces and energies as I've touched on in my Ketu exploration. Ketu and Rahu are two sides of the same coin, it isn't surprising to see them share many vampiric roles/stories.

Ketu is about spiritual liberation, detachment (in this context, becoming a vampire means a harsh detachment from normality/the old life), transcendence; these existential themes are found in vampirism.

The character Louis in "Interview with the Vampire" played by Mula Sun Brad Pitt describes his existential crisis as a vampire to a Magha Sun human who interviews him.

The enhanced strength, agility, speed, hearing and all these abilities are gained after the painful transformation process, going from human to vampire. This process is seen in the film "Interview with the Vampire", Mula Sun Brad Pitt's character going through excruciating pain when turning. My mind immediately takes me to Claire Nakti's first Mula nakshatra exploration, in which she touched on the interconnection of pain and evolution for access to more powers.

edit: robert pattinson is an ardra moon, not sun. and i accidentally used jk rowling's face as l.j smith, ugh! 💔

Vampires are caught between worlds, trapped in a liminal space between life & death. Ketu can cause feelings of entrapment. The yearning for release from their eternal existence is a common theme, as Ketu wants to escape its body. Louis de Pointe du Lac is the best character as example of rejecting one's own nature and wanting to cease to exist.

Mula Sun Brad Pitt

nodals being so emo jfc

notes: colin farrell's birthtime accuracy is botched, he's definitely a mula ascendant. tom hiddleston stays a possible ashwini moon until he's not (until his birthtime is available and accurate).

[fanaticsnail]

Hear me out

Rosinante lay bleeding out in the snow, the soft dust if winters chill falling from the sky to perfectly preserve his body in a beautiful stasis. If you had met him under different circumstances, you would've cried at taking the man's life to sate your thirst.

He was just so beautiful.

You had never seen such grace in an almost departed man, especially one that wore a smile on his death-like features. Lapping at his wounds, you felt the life once again returning to you and fleeing out from his wounded body. Barely needing to puncture his skin with your fangs, you simply chose one of the unloaded bullet holes within his body to drink from.

His lungs began to deflate as a few words gently tumbled within his last breath.

"Trafalgar... D..." He began, coughing as his essence fled through his oesophagus and dribble down his chin, "...Water Law. Please," his auburn eyes parted, the gloss of life shrouding his hue began to deepen. "...Vampire. Watch him... Watch over him."

Rising from your latch on his chest, you cradle his cheek within your hand. His skin felt as warm as your flesh was, his desperation only fuelled his beauty. You felt bound, your icy heart breaking the longer he spoke.

"I won't do that, sir," you whisper, shaking your headband gazing at him lovingly, "But I will give you the opportunity to rise once more as my kin." Using the last of his strength, he gazed at you while weighing the consequences within the recesses of his fading memory.

"What-... Must I do, as your thrall?" He groaned, the gurgle of blood choking within his throat, "Heed your demands-... and fight your battles?"

You shake your head, a sweet smile ticking up at the corners of your lips.

"No, my heart," you coo down at him. "All you must do, is simply say 'yes'." You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, rubied droplets forming from your canine indents. "Is that something that you want?"

Rosinante darted his dazed eyes between yours, searching for any lie in your tone or gesture. He gazed down to your lips before looking up within your darkened pupils.

"Yes."

Within the same breath of his confirmation, you surged forward and claimed his lips beneath your own. Your hunger and passion was expressed in the weighty kiss, forging a covenant met in blood and lust.

Rising from the snow: with messy locks of blonde hair, eyes consumed with deep sorrow. All wounds faded to the silvery glow of illuminated skin, and his hunger for retribution rose alongside his bloodlust.

Donquixote Rosinante Corazon, a freshly indoctrinated vampire spawning to a much older and wiser breed of fallen Nephilim.

And he was so beautiful.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory

I don't think I'll add any more to it, but it has been plaguing my thoughts lately.

[star-suh]

Bloodlust

Park Seonghwa x Male Reader

cw: top vampire seonghwa, hunter yn, dub-con, sex under the effects of a bite, rimjob, 69, throatfucking, blowjob, fingering, belly bulge, bareback, nipple play, spit play, some fluff at the end?

an: this is NOT related to the vampire story.

yn’s family has been vampire hunters for ages and it’s time for him to take charge of the family business, he has grown with a deep hatred towards those ‘monsters’ that somehow managed to live still in the modern days. one night yn was casually drinking a cup of liquor on a bar when someone caught his attention, a tall man, very handsome, was catching everyone’s attention. men and women all over him as if he was a precious being that needs to be worshiped, a drug they can’t afford to quit. they were hypnotized… HYPNOTIZED?? yn’s skin crawled as he was sensing some danger, that man right there was a vampire. “what’s he doing here in such a public space?” yn questioned himself while trying to get closer to him but as he just finished that question it was answered right afterwards with just a quick glance towards him, “lust.. got it”. vampires are known to be very lustful creatures, when they drink blood directly from the neck they can’t help it but get horny, a feeling transmitted somehow through the bite to their victims, they engage in a questionable sex act that could end only in two ways: a dead human or someone with a severe headache and some blood lost.

then something clicked on yn’s head, this could be the opportunity to kill his first vampire and free the world from one of those filthy creatures. “okay yn you can do this”, he walks towards the vampire, sit beside him and nuzzles his head on the creature’s neck. “my my what do we have here” he said surprised “a bold one huh?”. kisses here and there and some teasing drawed the vampire more interested in yn, he stopped hypnotizing people, grabbed yn by his hand and then guided him upstairs “follow me”.

‘fool.. he doesn’t know this is gonna be his last night’ yn thought and laughed inside his mind.

‘fool.. he must’ve forgotten vampires can read minds’ the vampire thought with a serious face, “the name’s seonghwa by the way” he turns his head towards yn and smiles, but there’s a subtle sensation of danger behind that smile.. something ain’t right.

seonghwa went near a table to grab more liquor for him and his guest. yn was getting ready to jump and stab seonghwa but something made him stop in his tracks, an invisible force make him stay still, “you shouldn’t be walking into a bar thinking of killing the owner of it”. “what?” yn said surprised, his skin crawling when seonghwa walked near him, “so stupid of you to forget about the mind reading capabilities of a vampire. you were so eager to kill me that you forgot the basics” seonghwa mocked him tracing his index finger on his chin. “but you’re quite the snack” with a flip of his fingers he unbuttoned yn’s shirt and discarded his pants leaving him just in underwear, seonghwa bit his lip “wonder how tasty your blood would be”.

he walked behind yn’s back and caressed his skin, his touch leaving a burning like sensation on him, “ufff what a sexy blood bag i have here” his body heating up, the horniness taking over him and soon over yn. seonghwa whimpered, eager to taste yn’s blood “hngh… i can’t wait for it” the bulge in his pants getting bigger and bigger. his tongue swirling on yn’s neck smearing it with saliva that would numb the area, “you know, vampire bites hurt like hell, i might be a monster for you but i won’t let you feel pain”. his fangs scraping the neck’s skin, teasing yn whose blood boiled of anger, how could he fall to a vampire’s trap he is such an idiot. finally the fangs sink on his skin making the hunter roll his eyes back, an euphoric feeling taking over his body, his body heating up, his brain chemistry being altered thanks to seonghwa’s bite. a tent forming on his underwear, he squirmed and moaned. “how are you feeling?” seonghwa’s red orbs staring deep into yn’s soul, he struggled to form a word, drool falling down the corners of his mouth, “more.. need more” he managed to say, already drunk in seonghwa’s bite.

seonghwa ate yn out, his tongue penetrating yn’s insides, his ass being smeared in that numbing saliva that could help for later. yn whined and moaned, he wanted mored, nothing was on his mind just the thought of seonghwa helping him with the hornyness, “help me with this, take responsibility” he demanded making seonghwa smiled in between slurpings,”yes sir” he said burying his tongue even deeper.

yn leaned down on his back and seonghwa positioned himself in a 69 position, he started throatfucking yn, his long dick bulging the other’s throat while the vampire fuck him with his tongue and fingers and also sucking his dick. seonghwa’s dick is all slobbery and sloppy covered in yn’s thick spit, “who’s being a good blood bag?” seonghwa slapped his wet tip on yn’s puckered lips “do you want it?” seonghwa asks, pouting, and yn nodded, emitting a quite cute whimper, still licking the vampire’s shaft.

yn sat on seonghwa’s long shaft, sinking on it inch by inch, his insides tightening around it.

“so tight and warm” seonghwa blurted out, he never had his dick hugged so tight by someone’s hole, “it feels like my dick is gonna melt” he adds. the bite of seonghwa somehow has a different reaction on yn’s body, elevating his body temperature a bit higher than the rest contrasting with seonghwa’s cold skin, an amazing sensation if you ask. yn finally bottomed out and starts riding, his hole always gripping on seonghwa’s meat when going up and swallowing it whole when going down, a bulge forming on his tummy, “you’re gripping so hard, fuck” the top cries.

yn’s hips moved on their own, it’s like his body is chasing for that pleasure, to satisfy itself using the other’s dick. “i will kill you when this ends” yn moans, tears falling down his flushed face, he then turns around, his back facing seonghwa now, and keep on riding him, ‘i can’t let him see me this fucked up’ yn thought, hiding his face with his arms.

yn grabbed one of his legs and pushed it towards his chest while still covering his face with the other one, seonghwa kneels in front of his puckered hole giving some little kisses on it, while it open and closes, “it’s asking for more, let’s give him more”. he rams himself all at once, drawing a loud whimper out of yn. the thrusts were so powerful that the bed started creaking and moving, in any moment it could break by how faster and hard seonghwa was fucking him. luckily for yn the numbing capabilities of seonghwa’s saliva helped him to not feel pain at all. sweat from yn started to pool in the bed, beads of it decorating his body, the other amazed by how hot he looked like this, he licks his chest and started to suck on his nipples, leaving bite marks on it too, “look at this puffy red nipples” seonghwa caresses them with his fingers to see how sensitive they are, “can’t resist the urge to bite them and then put a piercing on the both of them, you know. but let’s leave them for the next time”, “there’s not gonna be a next time awful monster, and if there will be one, would be your last” yn threatens. the vampire just laughs “you said the same tonight, on that little head of yours”.

the top’s dick goes in and out, squelching sounds coming from the wet hole of the bottom. “how long do you keep on hiding your face, don’t be childish” seonghwa tries to remove his arm but is impressed by yn’s strength, “i’m not gonna hypnotize you or something.. i just want a kiss” he says embarrassed, looking everywhere but yn. “come onnnn” he starts to get annoyed, “you won’t deny me a kiss, would you?” but unfortunately for him yn keeps moving his head in a no motion. one would thought the vampire would take this opportunity to fuck him even harder but no, he just plops himself on top of yn and hugs him, licking his nipples while maintaining the pace of the thrusts “fine” annoyance laced on his tone.

seonghwa stands up and jerks yn’s dick catching him off guard, “what the” he says finally removing the arm of his face, just to see a gorgeous vampire in front of him probably the handsomest person he has saw in his life, damn the hair sticked to his forehead made him look so hot, yn swear he could cum right on the spot by just seeing him, and he did, painting seonghwa’s hand in white. all this time seonghwa didn’t realize yn was finally showing his face, due to being annoyed he was just looking down at yn’s hole swallowing his dick. “what” he says surprised seeing the cum ropes spurting out of yn’s dick, that’s when he looks up to see a fucked up yn, all sweaty and red… “god your majestic” seonghwa mutters. his hand reaching yn’s cheek to stroke it gently. yn cups seonghwa’s face and brings him closer to his, “let’s get this over” his lips inches away from seonghwa’s. “just a kiss” he whimpers and pouts. “for a vampire you’re anything but scary, dare to say a childish one” his lips ghosting over the other’s, “look who’s talking” he pauses, “that’s what your family made you believe, that we are monsters but we’re not. we evolved like humans did, we’re not the desperate bloodthirsty monsters anymore” the top tries to steal a kiss from the bottom but fails. yn teases the other denying him the pleasure of touching his lips. “open” yn forced seonghwa’s mouth open with his hand and he complied, carefully to not touch his lips, yn uses his tongue to lick on the creature’s fangs “pointy” he whispers. his tongue explored the other’s, licking on his fangs and tongue “stick it out” once again yn demands, seonghwa complies and yn sucks his tongue. it was messy, lots and lots of saliva coming out of their mouths, dripping down their chins and landing in their bodies, thick threads of it everywhere around their mouths and finally their lips touched. seonghwa was hungry for it so he grab the other by his neck to deepen the kiss, each other’s cheeks hollowing showing how they were sucking each other’s tongue. in between their messy kisses, the vampire emptied his balls inside yn’s gushy hole. both moaned, their needs satisfied now and the effect of the bite passing, “shit you wrecked me” yn says tired, falling down on the bed. seonghwa doesn’t look tired at all “that bite really made you turn into a needy whore. should i bite you again?” a smug grin on his face, “do it and i rip your dick”...

yn went on with his life as if nothing happened, hiding from his family the fact that he slept with a vampire, keeping the facade of still hating vampires and wanting to kill them. unbeknownst to them, all nights he goes out to a local bar with the pretext to just drink a couple of cups, but actually is because his ass itches inside, it wants something that only one person in this world could give him, “hey” he greets to the vampire who was laying down in the bed with an unbuttoned shirt showing up his chest and abs “hey” he smirks showing his fang and grabbing his already hard bulge.

[pursuitseternal]

𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉: 𝒶 𝒸𝑜𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝑜𝒻 𝒮𝓅𝒶𝓌𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒜𝓈𝒸𝑒𝓃𝒹𝑒𝒹 𝒜𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑅𝒶𝓅𝒽𝒶𝑒𝓁 𝒻𝒾𝒸𝓈, 𝒹𝓇𝒶𝒷𝒷𝓁𝑒𝓈, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒜𝒰’𝓈

Tolkien (Sauron, Annatar) Masterlist

Link on Ao3

EtL Gur!Tav x Astarion—Katja hates her circumstances of a tadpole in her head, but she hates him more, Gue by birth, monster hunter by trade like her people. As for him, she’s the same stock of vagrant that killed him all those centuries ago; punishing her should be fun.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Chapter 4 |

Ao3 link | Tumblr fic Index

Ascended Astarion x f!Reader

“I can’t yet speak its language…” Astarion doesn’t know all his powers, despite the title of Vampire Ascendant, despite having a Bride at his side. Suppose these manifest themselves surprisingly, even awkwardly… a bit of comedy and smut.

series link on AO3

Series of scenes from Acts 1 and 2 of Spawn Rogue Astarion x Female Reader.

✨Part 1: “Go back to sleep, darling…” [the SFW flirty bite one]

✨Part 2: “You’ll have to keep quieter than that…” [the NSFW sexy fingering one]

✨Part 3: “Daggers are a love language, my dear…” [the NSFW sexy daggers one]

✨Part 4: “Let me have that sweet ambrosia, my love…” [the NSFW vampire feeding frenzy, period sex one]

✨Part 5: “All vim and vigor, dearest…” [the NSFW healing trope one]

✨Part 6: “Maybe we should fight more often…” [Lovers Spat and Make Up Sex one]

✨Part 7: “You had better tie me up, darling…” [fuck or die Sex Pollen one]

✨Part 8: “Anything to reassure you, my sweetest…” [jealous tav needs nsfw convincing]

✨Part 9: “Dexterity check first, my sweet” [my homage to his hands, and an excuse to use Sharess’ Caress]

✨Part 10: “To things that warm us!” [drunken toasts and public cockwarming]

✨ Part 11: “Use Your Words” [prompt full au: lovers run]

✨ Part 12: “Decadent” [Valentines Day sex chocolates, semi-public sex]

✨Part 13: “You’ll end up bitten” [the werewolf smut, knotting one]

✨ Part 14: “Don’t hold your breath” [underwater oral hot spring surprise]

✨ Part 15: “Knowledge is a dangerous weapon” [bookworm Tav, Spawn powers, breeding (no babies) kink]

✨ Part 16: “Your body’s already given you away” sharing body heat, caught in a storm

✨Part 17: “You make me want to live:” BG3 anniversary smut based on the song

✨ Part 18: “I wanted to hear you whimper:” Brat taming the Vampire

✨Part 19: “Please:” The Graveyard Smut scene

Yuletide in Faerûn Part 1: A Yuletide Miracle (Spawn)

Ao3 link | Tumblr Fic Mini-Masterlist

Scenes of Ascended Astarion x Female Reader, realizing that all the power in the world can’t instantly heal all his trauma. It takes love, sex, and making him remember the Vampire Rogue he once was. All chapters are NSFW.

link on AO3 | tumblr fic masterlist

🗡️Enemies to Lovers | Astarion x Named Tav

💞🗡️He can’t remember anything, but she does. The betrothed she believed dead, the source of all her centuries of grief and heartache now in the middle of her path after the Nautiloid crash, but something is different about him. Dark. Changed. Something hidden.

𝓞𝓾𝓻 𝓑𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓭, 𝓒𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓪𝓷𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓠𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓼…

“Our Blood: Into the Fire:”

Astarion, Cordehlia, Wyll, Karlach and Raphael… NSWF

Ao3 Link

Summary: A favor once given to ensure Ascension is finally owed in turn: Raphael arrives from Avernus. With the thrill of another battle on the horizon, Astarion and his Raven prepare for fires and blood. Lust and bloodlust aren’t quite so diffent

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

“Our Blood: Liars’ Night”

Summary: At the request of their old Wizard companion, the Ascendant and his Raven arrive in Waterdeep the night before Liars’ Night. “A matter of utmost importance” needs their aid, a dangerous prospect with enemy Vampires, secret artifacts, and a good old fashioned Masquerade for the holiday

Ao3 Link

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

🩸Ascended Astarion x Selûnite Shadowheart🌙

Caught sneaking on the walls of the Crimson Palace, Shadowheart wakes in the dungeons, deep in the Monster’s lair, the keep of her former companion and current tormentor, Lord Astarion. BDSM kink fic with a happy ending.

Ao3 link | Fic tumblr Index

Lumina is different, newly turned, and she has turned the head of the Master, the Vampire Ascendant. For the first time in 200 years, his beating heart might just feel something again.

CW: darker turns to softer AA, Harem of Spawn, No Tav, OC reminds AA of his past, “she’s special,” some jealousy, manipulative sexy AA, angst with a happy ending

Ao3 link | tumblr Fic Index (all chs)

🩸🗡️Ascended Astarion Drabbles Mini-Masterlist

✨🗡️ Spawn Astarion Drabbles Mini-Masterlist

😈 Raphael Fics Mini-Masterlist

🩸🌙 Shadowstarion

🗡️ “To Slice the Tension” [knife play]

🛐 “Unholy” [Priestarion, religious corruption]

Fanart by @marimosalad, @nyx-knox @snowfolly and @dafna-winchester

[dark-and-kawaii]

༺ 𝒫𝓇𝑜𝓌𝓁 ༻

Astarion can’t get over his lust for tav, she’s sleeping but he can’t resist.

Slight NSFW - Blood

His tongue glides over one of his fangs as his thoughts start to drift, the feeling of your body submitting to him, your oh so sweet whimpers that turn into blissful moans… And gods the way your spine curved up pressing your breasts into his chest as he gorged upon your neck. His jaw clenched, it was as if your veins ran with ichor… A goddess ready to be consumed by himself and only him, you were a gift to him he knows it. Perhaps this was his reward for surviving 200 years under Cazador.

Right at this moment you looked like a sacrificial lamb, the fires light dances across your smooth skin, your loose underwear straps were crawling down your arm every time you moved. Your breathing labored. This was all starting to become far too much for the spawn, Astarion could feel his ice cold body begin to warm just as a drug like high fills his mind.

It felt as if chains were wrapped around your limbs and struggling proved futile… The air felt like it was slowly dissipating around you, mind hazy while your head shakes back and forth as if begging for whatever was holding you down to stop. Panic rose in your chest, your dreams turning to a nightmare, you were running trying to escape the darkness that started to cloak your vision. A vision of your dream visitor appears before you in your nightmare, they were holding their hand out to you, offering to help you find an escape. Just as your hands touch theirs your eyes open…

There in the dimly lit forest you see him, Astarion. His head is between your legs, your one leg propped over his shoulder while the glow of the fire shines off his fangs. At first you’re unaware if he’s already bitten you, it’s not until you feel warmth trail down to your clothed groin, he’s already taken what he believes is his.

“A-Astarion” your arms attempt to lift to his shoulders, you try to push him away so you can speak to him, but it proves futile. He’s taken so much from you already yet he can feel your struggles. Lifting his head from between your legs he greets your eyes with pure benevolence, knowing this look would deceive you, “Yes, love?” is all he can conjure up before sliding his tongue down your thigh as he laps up the blood that’s found its way down to your sex.

“When I ascend I’ll turn you, little dove. That way-“ Astarion kisses your inner thigh, “that way any damage I inflict on you can heal with ease.” His voice was velvety, “But first, I have another craving to satisfy.”

Mouth curving into a feral sort of snarl, fangs protruding from his jaw and his teeth running over their sharp points, Astarion lowers his head back to your inner thigh. He sinks his teeth into your upper thigh, the heat from your sex radiates off his cheek while thick hot blood runs into his mouth and seeps out… Your vital fluid makes his bloodlust hasten..

A steady stream running down onto the ground… As more of your blood flooded his mouth, the weaker you became… Still though, you believed you could trust him and you let yourself melt into him, “As-Astarion,” His name came out as a begged moan, yet you sounded like you were barely still here on this plane.

Your shaky voice was the only thing that could ever break his trance, pulling him back to reality that you very well could die if he goes too far. He isn’t a true vampire, yet. He couldn’t bring you back should he mess up. With his teeth still pierced into your flesh he could feel your pulse weakening, he knew it was time to stop, if only for a moment.

Smearing the blood on his index finger, Astarion lifted the warm substance to his lips; the intoxicating sweetness hitting every taste bud.

“I- you know I’d never mean to kill you.” He rested his head on your thigh that wasn’t propped over his shoulder. Besides the crackling of the fire, you both laid there in silence for only but a moment until in one swift movement, Astarion sheds his clothing. His rapid movements had you pinned down before you could even blink. His perfectly toned body loomed over you.

“I trust you,” You could feel some strength return to you, enough to be able to slide a loose strand of his white hair behind his pointed ear, your gracious smile putting him at ease.

Astartion’s lips met yours in a passionate kiss, savoring the taste of his saliva you could taste specs of your own blood. Hands running through each other’s hair as the kiss became more forceful, teeth scraping against teeth, tongues mingling in the very deepest depths of one another’s mouths, and your blood continuously dripping from your bite wound. Struggling to sit upright, to put your arms around his chest, you felt the power behind him pinning you down, keeping you incapable of moving.

Breaking the kiss, Astarion looked like he did the first time he ever tasted you, ravenous, hungry, his pants deep as his chest rises and falls, “Dove, let me take care of you, trust that I won't stray too far.” He kisses the top of your hand, foreshadowing what's to come if you allow him to ascend… Tonight you bask in his embrace, his sweet words, ignoring the dreadful feeling deep within your gut…

[morgana-ren]

I have Dark Urge, Gortash and Astarion jealousy brain rot after that youtube video of them bickering. This is not related to the bickering but I keep thinking it!!!

"I don't remember," You hiss, fighting back the sudden lump in your throat. "I don't remember you, I don't even remember me."

"Still so quick to anger, " Gortash sounds amused as he reaches out, and for some reason you don't make any move to stop him. You don't fear him, in fact deep down there's an almost longing for his touch.

There's a slight flicker of surprise across his face as he cups your chin lightly, slowly stroking his thumb over your bottom lip, his gaze flicking quickly over your shoulder. You don't fight him, but you do fight the sudden urge to lean in to his touch, to open your mouth and brush the tip of your tongue over his thumb. You’re not sure if the shiver down your spine is your own confused arousal or the pulse of jealous anger from Astarion you can feel whispering through your tadpole. Gortash' lips quirk, there's a tiny hint of a smile as he leans in close and that burning pulse in your head turns into liquid fire through your veins. It's overwhelming, and so so confusing. Astarion's thoughts mixing with your own until you feel like you're going to drown in a haze of anger and lust. 

Gortash gaze slips over your shoulder again and you feel a pang of anxiousness at his inattention, but its gone just as fast as he lowers his head and you raise your own instinctively, losing yourself in the need to press your mouth to his. 

"You may not remember me, sweet thing," his nose brushes against yours as his voice drops to a whisper. "But your body does."

Malformed, foggy memories flashbang your brain as he stands so closely that you can smell the brandy and exotic spice on his skin, tugging your heartstrings from some unfathomably deep level within you. It hammers incessantly on the protective shield your mind has placed over your memories of your old life, drawing on something overwhelming and instinctive within you, though you cannot recall what.

It is an urge that makes your heart pound, but unlike the insatiable bloodlust that plagues your every thought, this one demands not only acquiescence, but obedience. Like a dog brought to heel by the call of its master, your breath stoppers in your throat as he leans in, lips brushing sensitive skin, your body anticipating the next move even as you do not consciously recognize what it might be. You salivate as a wolf over carrion, hands trembling in their need to reach forward, to pull him to you with such a force that it topples you both--

"Surely you're aware that not everything the body remembers is a good memory," Astarion speaks from behind you, his voice almost enough to shock you out of the lust-induced spell Gortash has placed you under with unnerving ease. His lips curl upward in a mimic of a smile, and yet it looks all too much like an animalistic snarl: far too much fang to be genuine.

"True that may be, but I'm sure you can feel for yourself that isn't the case here," Gortash offers him a quick and easy grin, bloodshot eyes narrowing only slightly.

Deep shame at the realization that Astarion is privy to the bombardment of desire bubbling within your core. Even as you try to hide it, your legs still quiver, heart rabbiting behind your ribs, trying to lock out the scent that cloys up your nostrils to nestle in your brain to stir up memories better left abandoned.

"Oh, I don't know about that. It seems markedly unpleasant to me."

There is a tense insecurity emanating from him, but buried beneath it, there is anger and the vicious snap of jealousy. It's all terribly foreign to him in the way that even the worm has difficulty translating, and it only makes the situation all the more awkward. You haplessly look back at him in a wordless apology, unable to even find the words to properly convey your feelings.

His eyes don't meet yours, but his hand slithers around your waist, tugging you back towards his chest in a territorial show of dominance, and as he does, there is a subtle flash to Gortash's eyes. Astarion does not let you go, and Gortash does not step back. Neither looks at you any further, but rather at each other.

It's a look you recognize; a hunter sizing up his mark.

"Funny. I remember her being capable of speaking for herself." "She's capable of a lot more than that." "Oh, I remember," Gortash cocks his head, and another pang of lust damn near drags you to your knees. Something burrows through your brain, trying to claw its way out. A half-formed memory, dark and lined in velvet; a gold-laden hand curling around your throat, hips rolling against yours so deeply it hurts, the cry of his name from your lips.

You feel Astarion recoil, his face unmoving as iron but his hand clenching enough to pain. Whatever it was, he saw it.

"Yes, well, all in the past, hmm?"

"The future is yet to be written," Gortash arches a brow, his gaze once again drawn down to yours. "Personally, I prefer an authoring hand in my own destiny."

[lalunanymph]

𖨆♡𖨆 ran haitani x fem!reader, hanma shuji x fem!reader

╰┈➤ yearning for revenge after the untimely death of your father, you come to discover an underground organization called bonten and how its executive may have all the answers you need. the big catch? you were the first ever girl that broke his heart.

: ̗̀➛ explicit sex, a/nal play, mentions of a miscarriage, grief, religious undertones, drinking, smoking, (f) oral receiving, mild exhibitionism, c/um eating, public sex, mentions of pregnancy, ran’s untameable daddy kink 

masterlist 🌙

𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐊 #𝟒

No one can say that Ran Haitani was a man who broke his promises.

Not when he had his beautiful girlfriend in a mating press, one hand around your delicate neck and the other tracing tight circles on your puffy clit.

“R-Ran—ah-ah—slow down!”

Your whines were overshadowed by the obscene squelches coming from your joint bodies, and all your boyfriend did was chuckle.

The promise in question that he had to fulfill? The word of honor he had given himself to fuck you in that little tight dress the moment you both came back from the mission.

And, oh—did he carry out his promise with zeal.

This was your—what? Fifth round? Sixth?

You had lost all concept of time the moment you stepped back into your shared apartment and the doors closed behind your tense forms. Ran had instantly pressed you against the wall, ripping off your dress—ripping it, not even caring enough to remove it from your frame—and taking you on the floor like a lust-crazed animal; Kisaki’s blood staining between your bodies and smearing the pristine marble floors.

After finding your first release of the night, he had brought you into the bathroom, intent on cleaning you up before he got distracted by the suds clinging like a second skin onto the curves of your breasts. In the wake of christening the bathtub with your loud moans, he took you once more in the shower with your palms pressed to the glass partition where all you could was mewl pathetically and take everything he was giving you.

But Ran was not that mean to deny you rest after such an arduous night. He did let you rehydrate yourself with some cranberry juice before bending you over the couch arm, the ecstasy in his veins second to the exhilarating feeling of your cunt muscles massaging his cock.

Flooding you with his seed, he had finally—finally—brought you to bed where you could rest your aching limbs. But this respite didn’t last long and he soon slid his insatiable cock into your already swollen walls, fucking you from behind before putting you on your back, right where you are now.

“Where’s all your bravado, baby?” he grunted, that same bright grin of bloodlust now purely filled with lust. He didn’t care that your thighs were unceasingly quaking or that it had been a full three hours of non-stop fucking. “‘I’d probably like it, Rin’—were you fucking serious? Did you know how much I wanted to slap that pretty pussy of yours for saying shit like that to my baby brother of all people?”

“Didn’t mean it, Ran,” you mewled, gripping his amethyst locks tighter, tears clinging to the ends of your lashes. “I was just—ah—high on the kill.”

Your pathetic rebuttals were choked back when his palm tightened around your neck. Manhandling you with ease and setting you onto your hands and knees, your eyes snapped wide open when you felt the head of his cock nudge past the tight ring of your ass.

“Ran—”

“I know baby, I know,” he soothed, leaning over to slide open the bedside drawer to uncap a bottle of lube. The warmed drizzle between your cheeks made you seize in anticipation and he kneaded your hip. “Relax, baby. I’ll prep you.”

With his lubed thumb, he pushed past the star-shaped circle, your forbidden walls almost expelling the foreign pressure until you felt his other hand cup your mound, middle finger tenderly rubbing your engorged clit. Shivers of pleasure spiked down your spine and he used that distraction to settle his large thumb fully into your anus.

Unable to hold yourself up for any longer, you crumpled forward, ass pushed even higher for him to do anything he pleased with it.

“You good, baby?”

All you could do was make a soft sound of confirmation.

“Gonna fuck your pretty ass now, ‘kay?”

Your soft okay was swallowed when he pulled you closer, thumb replaced by the fat head of his cock. Through it all, Ran paced you, constantly rubbing your clit to get your muscles to relax until eventually—

“God, baby,” his guttural groan could’ve probably woken Rin up on the other end of the hallway. “S’tight f’me—fuck!—your ass is perfection, princess.”

With the sheets bunched under your white knuckles, you were nothing but a fucked-out sexdoll for him to do as he pleased. Every push of his hips—every rut of his cock deeper into your throbbing ass—made you expel full-bodied moans, the sounds unlike that one filthy porn video he had once made you watch while he ate you out.

“Ran, Ran, Ran,” you keened out his name, completely lost in the feel of his cock making its mark in your ass; the sloppy sounds of his thrusts and the lube dripping down your thighs getting you high enough to release high-pitched moans at every hot thrust.

If this didn’t wake your neighbours, you were convinced not even a shootout could.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—Y/N...” You peeked back to find him with his teeth bared, dreamy lilac eyes lowered in complete pussy drunkness, those soft violet locks stuck to his forehead with sweat. His palms were hot presses on your stomach, gently tweaking your nipples, and the pleasure was too much—all too much that you had to alleviate it; fucking your trembling pussy with two fingers as you came for the sixth and final time tonight.

Pulling his cock out, he sprayed his seed onto your back, harsh breathing loud and hot on the inner shell of your ear. There was no way you were tethered to earth; crashing down onto the mattress where he followed, completely exhausted from the numerous rounds. Outside, a milky dawn was peeking past the curtains and you flickered your tired gaze to the alarm clock, unsurprised to find it a little past 6AM.

Ran placed one shaky kiss into your hair and reached for the box of tissues you had prepared on the side of the bed, wiping his release from your back and tossing the soiled material onto the floor. Bringing you into the warmth of his embrace, he fished in his bedside table for his cigarettes, lighting one up and passing it to you. Your hands shook when you took it from him, inhaling the first drag of nicotine which lifted your already satiated body to all new heights.

The two of you laid in silence, no sounds beyond the slight crackle of both your cigarettes after every inhale. Ash was spilling onto the bed, but neither of you could find it in yourselves to care.

“So, what’re you gonna do now?”

Ran’s voice jolted you out from your reverie and you glanced up at him. Those lilac eyes appraised you with curiosity and despite one whole night of fucking, you still blushed at the intensity of how he was staring at you, dropping your gaze shyly to your palm laying across his stomach. You traced the tattoos on the left side of his body that curled around his skin like the tendrils of smoke he exhaled, drunk on his warmth.

“I guess I’ll live now,” you murmured. “Dad’s killer is dead and it’s time to think about rebuilding my life.”

A beat of silence. “Mikey’s offer still stands, y’know?”

You tried hard not to get carried away by your silent excitement, clearing your throat. “You sure you want me in Bonten?”

“The spot’s all yours, babe,” he teased and wrapped one arm around you, tiredly nuzzling the back of your head. “‘Sides, it’ll be hot to see you kick ass all the time. You have great potential as a spy—Bonten’s little honey trap.”

Smothering a smile at his nickname for you, you quipped, “You sure you’ll be alright if I have to seduce other men?”

He smothered his cigarette into his own ashtray and dusted his hands, grinning. “As long as I’m the only one who can fuck your brains out by the end of the day—sure.” Ran’s reasoning was simple and you had to snort at how easy he made it all sound.

You took one last drag and extinguished the cigarette in the ashtray on your bedside table.

“Okay.”

Just like that, you sealed your fate as part of Bonten and of his life. His sculpted arms draped you closer across his chest, his heartbeat under your cheek. There was no need for you to look up to know that he was grinning like a Cheshire-cat.

“Ouch, fuck—”

“Stay still, miss,” the tattoo artist Mikey swore by as the best in the city reassured you.

He patted your arm and your gritted teeth was part of a melange of sounds which included the gentle whir of the needle currently jabbing into your skin with the speed of a thousand pricks. Beside you, Ran snickered at your expression of pain and you leveled him with a glare. You were going to kick his ass if he kept this up.

“We’re almost finished.”

From his words, the smarting pain lessened and a second later, a cool salve was spread onto the skin above your right thigh. He wrapped your tattoo in a bandage and gave you a thumbs up. “All done Mrs. Haitani.”

You were in too much pain to correct him of your true relationship status, and winced at the inflamed skin.

“Remember—you would need to disinfect it twice a day starting from tonight.”

Ran handled the payment while you fixed the hem of your blazer dress. One glance down at your leg and pride bloomed hot and fresh in your heart. The Bonten tattoo—modeled after Izana’s earring—stood out like a proud smirk on the expanse of your skin.

“Looks good,” Ran commented, quick to eye the same design he sported on his neck that was currently on the soft skin of your thigh.

“It’s pretty,” you cooed and took his offered hand, leaving the tattoo shop located near Roppongi. The afternoon sun was warm on your skin, draping over both your forms like a blanket of honey.

Once in the car, you admired the design, pulling up the hem of your dress to trace the tattoo with your eager eyes.

“Can you see it peeping past my dress?”

“Are you trying to flash me while I’m driving?” You didn't have to look at him to know that he would be smirking.

“In your dreams, Haitani.”

“Y’know you’re about to be a Haitani, too, right?” He brought your left hand up and skimmed his lips over your ring finger’s knuckle where a silver band with a 2 carat marquise-shaped diamond was nestled snugly upon your digit.

“Of course—you wouldn’t stop reminding me.”

“You love it when I remind you,” his quick reply made you want to blush; akin to admitting defeat when it comes to your bickering sessions with your now-fiancé.

“Yes,” you said softly, dropping your gaze to your lap and shyly squeezing his hand. “I love it, too.”

“Huh? I couldn't hear you—could you speak up?” This motherfucker… you could practically hear the grin in his tone and you hitched your shades up higher, smoothing down the front of your blazer dress to buy time to retort.

But, Ran was endlessly patient, especially when it came to your confession on your true emotions.

His grin was unbelievably—and unfairly—handsome. Purple locks fell softly in his face, his toned frame powerful under his neatly pressed three-piece suit, tie snugly fit in a pristine Windsor knot that he insisted you helped him do every single morning. Your fiancé was too alluring for his own good and as the both of you had walked the streets of Roppongi where you had both called home once, there was no denying the many eyes of the women (and some men) that lingered on him.

If you pointed it out to him, he preferred not to make a comment, merely smirking in that same smug manner. So, you decided to give in—just because you were in a good mood.

“I said I love you, you dork.”

“Oh—love you too, babe.”

Bonten HQ appeared, a covert building that housed Japan’s most notorious gang in the façade of a hotel that was under Mikey’s name. Scanning your name tags at the front desk, the both of you took the lift to the penthouse suite that was the main Bonten members’ offices.

The sprawling room was touched with a large window where Mikey’s desk stood on an elevated flooring, Sanzu on his right and Kaku on his left. In the front—Rindou and Ran’s desk, and beside Senju and Takeomi was your designated table. Your fiancé made small talk with Kokonoi who had his own private office to work over the numbers, while you noticed Senju’s absence and asked Sanzu about it.

“On a mission,” Bonten’s number two said, and raked his eyes up and down your figure. “You got the tat?”

“Oh yeah, I got it.”

“Can I see?”

“Gotta ask Ran first—hey babe, can Sanzu look at my tattoo?”

Without even sparing his superior a second look, Ran said, “Sure—if he wants his eyes gouged out.”

Haru raised his hands in mock surrender and fixed you with a smirk. “Sheesh, fine. I ain’t high enough to enjoy the pain anyway.”

You spared him a small smile as your phone vibrated, a quick reminder to where you were supposed to be in an hour’s time. Casting a quick glance at Mikey, you addressed him, keeping your voice soft and pliant to not arouse suspicion.

“Hey, boss? Is it alright if I take a quick hour to check on something?”

Mikey looked up from his computer screen and raised a brow. “Didn’t you and Ran just come back from lunch?”

“It’ll be quick,” you said and gestured towards the door. “I’ll be in and out in an hour.”

Your soft question caught the other’s attention and sensing the wandering gazes of his comrades, Mikey decided that an hour was not too long of a period to let you go and attend to whatever you needed to do.

“Sure.”

“Thanks. I’ll be leaving now.”

Ran gripped your wrist when you passed his table, brows knitted. “Where are you going?”

“Just on… an appointment,” you took his hand with your free one and squeezed. “I’m heading into the city for a bit.”

Sensing that you wanted to be alone, he nodded, releasing his grip on you. “Okay.”

The moment the elevator doors closed behind you, Mikey quipped over the neutral silence in the wake of your departure. “Ran, I want you to follow her.”

He was in no position to deny his leader, and nodded, working out the logistics. He had brought a white shirt and a pair of jeans that he could change into, and since his car was as familiar to you as the white C8 Corvette he had gifted to you for your birthday, he went with another option.

“Sure thing, boss. Hey, Kaku—can I borrow your bike?”

The dark-haired man looked like he wanted to say no, but when Mikey’s gaze touched his, he sighed, fishing in his pants pocket for his keys.

“Here—catch.”

Ran caught the jangling bundle in his larger palm and grinned. “Thanks, man.”

“Don’t dent it,” was Kakucho’s low warning. Ran snorted.

“And hurt the love of your life? I won’t,” he snickered and knowing Bonten’s number 3 could not deny him, he picked up his comrade’s helmet as well, bracing it under his arm.

“I’m serious, Haitani,” Kakucho grumbled, rubbing his forehead with his thumb and index finger. “If I see even one tiny scratch—”

“I’m dead, I know, I know,” Ran sing-songed as he made his way to the elevator. “I heard you loud and clear, Kaku.” The doors closed on Kakucho’s sour expression and Mikey’s impassive one. Alone, Ran let his cockiness drop and he wondered out loud what had gotten into you. “Where are you going, baby?”

Your Corvette was not in the private parking garage when he strode past your allocated spot, and he hurriedly dressed in the back of his McLaren before donning on the helmet and walking over to the majestic beauty that was Kaku’s Blackster 883 Harley. Checking his phone, he noted that you still had your location shared with him and followed that tiny blue dot downtown to the city where he caught sight of your car and trailed it all the way to… a jewelry store?

Parking Kaku’s bike between two alleyways that gave him a prime view of you, he let his eyes rake over your flushed cheeks, the slight panicked gleam in your eyes. He watched you until you disappeared into the shop, deciding it was a good time to lower the helmet’s visor and keep his languid gaze trailed on the front door to keep tabs on you.

As for you, there was not even an inkling of suspicion that you were being followed. The cool blast from the air conditioner blowing in your face made you shudder and your presence was announced by the soft clinging of a bell above the door.

“Mrs. Haitani—hello!” the young salesgirl with her whitened smile greeted you at the counter. “Are you here to refit your ring?”

“Oh, I’m not married yet,” you quipped, lifting your hands and waving them sheepishly, much to the other girl’s oh my gosh sorry, I forgot! It wasn’t that big of a slight and you leaned forward as if conspiring with her. “I’m actually here to get something custom-made.”

Her answering grin was as bright as the jewels on display. “Right this way.” Leading you towards a back room, you kept your guard up. Valhalla may be gone, but it’s minions could still be around at any time.

However, the coast remained clear and you were brought into another room where double doors were pulled back for you to enter. The head jeweler bowed his head low and offered you a wide smile. “Mrs. Haitani. How good it is to see you. I heard that you wanted something custom-made?”

Smiling thinly at your mistaken marital status, you pulled out some designs from your folder and placed the drawings on the table for him to peer down at it. “I would like to create a custom-made locket with tanzanite encrusting on one side.”

“May I ask why tanzanite, Mrs. Haitani? It is not as sturdy as diamonds”

Because it would’ve been my baby’s birthstone, you wanted to snap but reigned in your anger. This man was just trying to do his job. “Because I like tanzanite and I would pay a high price to have this done. Can you help me?”

At your insistence, he bowed his head once more and gingerly picked up your designs. “Give us half an hour.”

You smiled. There was a reason why you had chosen this place which was known for its speedy welding and precise craftsmanship. Of course, such swift care would come with a high price tag, but you paid it no mind. You would give the last penny in your bank account to commemorate the memory of your little one.

“This is the locket you requested for, Miss L/N,” the head jewelry appeared exactly thirty minutes after he had left you alone to peruse the displays. “What shall I engrave on it?”

The words that were traced on your heart but never had the chance to see the light of day spilled past your lips like healing water. “Could you engrave—’to the one I never got to hold’ on the back?”

A tremor of rawness passed between the both of you, and he seemed to understand what occurred for this to be your request. He nodded, expression turning rueful, and said, “Of course, Mrs. Haitani. We’ll be back with your necklace in no time.”

While you were waiting for the final touches to your necklace, Ran was growing impatient in the afternoon heat. He glanced at his Rolex and clicked his tongue, a surly mood that did not help with how the hot sun seemed to beat down on the back of his neck. Thank goodness he wasn't in his three-piece—he would be in an even shittier mood if he had to deal with the humidity in his custom-made suit.

A jewelry store. Mikey made him leave the cool shades of the office so that he could trail after his fiancée while she was in a jewelry store? Despite how much his boss’s paranoia was annoying him, Ran reasoned that Mikey must’ve wanted you to be watched in case you thought of threatening him again. Sano Manjiro did not trust easily and once that faith was broken, he would be a fool to keep his jugular exposed in any manner.

“Where are you going now, Y/N?” he murmured to himself, trailing after your reappearance outside the store, and absorbing every minuscule detail with his perceptive gaze; the sun glinting off your hair, the slight dip in the corners of your mouth, how you were resolutely keeping your eyes down to the ground before you closed the car door.

The route was unfamiliar to him and he made sure to keep a few meters away from you, the back of your white C8 Corvette still in his sights as he maneuvered Kaku’s Harley in between the streams of traffic. The gravel road became narrower until it tapered off to a lone building in the middle of a quiet field that was surrounded by dense trees.

He killed the engine, getting a vantage point upon a low hill where he had a clear view of you stopping the car in front of a lonesome little church. There you were—all sharpness and large shades, head bowed with a golden glint around your neck that he noticed you did not have before you left the jewelry store. What are you doing in a place like this, baby?

Ignorant to your clandestine audience, you disembarked from your car, the large shades you wore hiding a few tears you had shed while driving to this destination. The newly minted necklace felt like a hot brand against your clavicle, heavy to the touch; you steeled yourself with a deep breath and looked up at the blue sky for one brief moment before entering the sanctuary.

It had been years since you last entered a holy space.

Your father used to be a devout congregant, and church days were a staple in your little family until you turned 15 and didn’t feel like honoring this tradition, preferring to spend your weekends with your friends and Ran while your father did his duties as a good Christian man.

A part of you felt like you were coming home; the blow of nostalgia hitting you the hardest when you smelled the sweet incense, walking past the same pew your father preferred to sit on every Sunday. You could retrace every step like it was muscle memory—three pulpits down from the altar, always on the furthest side closest to the wall so he could let pregnant women and elderly couples slide out easily for Holy Communion.

Years later, his daughter would find herself sitting in his usual spot, staring up at the large crucifix of a tormented savior gazing down at her with doleful eyes. You had expected yourself to feel like an open wound—throbbing, and tender to the touch from all the sins you had committed; all the lives you had stolen.

Yet, all you felt in this instance was an unceasingly pervading sense of peace.

Completing the sign of the cross—you grasped the necklace in between your pressed palms and slid to your knees; praying for your father’s soul, hoping he was taking care of your unborn baby and giving them the love you never had a chance to give in this lifetime. You prayed for your safety and a better life with your fiancé—to be kept safely away from harm despite how dangerous both your occupations inherently were.

Through it all, the tears never ceased, your mind growing light-headed as you continued sobbing softly in this quiet sanctuary. It felt like you were sitting at the bottom of an ocean, peace saturating the air and fitting around the revered space like a jewel in a crown. Finishing your prayers, you did another quick cross and sat back on the hard wooden surface, staring up at the beige walls with your tear-clogged eyes and reddened nose.

“Peace be with you.”

That soft voice jolted you out of your miserable reverie, and you lifted your watery eyes to find a pair of kind ones staring down at you with a familiarity that reminded you of the past life you had tried so hard to bury.

Her lined face was sagely and a name tickled in the back of your mind. I’m helping Sister Teresa tomorrow with the catechism syllabus, the voice of your father echoed in your mind.

A face from your once the murkiest of your memories appeared like a shimmering holy light and you blinked back the tears, stuttering out, “And with you, sister.”

“May I?” She gestured to the empty space and you wished you could’ve scrambled to put on your shades so she could not see your tear-swollen features. Nodding, you discreetly swiped the remaining tears from your cheeks, forcing your features into one of contrition.

“I’m sorry—am I not allowed to enter during this time?”

“Everyone is always welcomed back to the House of God, my dear,” she said kindly and then, “I remember you—Mr. L/N’s daughter—my, my. It has been too long since we last saw you.”

Deciding that you could not deny her recognition, you faked a smile that most likely appeared grotesque through unmistakeable sorrow.

“I have been… busy with life, Sister Teresa.”

“So, I’ve heard,” the older woman hummed, sweeping her veil to the side and fixing you with those kind eyes that seemed to pry into your soul insistently to bring up your deepest hurt. Your desire to bolt from the scene and stammer out an apology was extinguished when she murmured, “I am sorry for the loss of your father. We all prayed for him, and for you, too.”

Stunned that she still remembered you despite your pervading absence all those years ago, you remained quiet, shifting your attention to the sanctuary so you could avoid her piercing gaze.

“How have you been, Y/N?”

You sensed that she wanted to reach out to you—to understand your disappearance from this church and subsequently, from this town; you had, after all, up and left from everything that once remotely held a shape of familiarity to you. Deciding that it was safe to speak to her, you recollected how open she was to you as a younger girl and your tongue loosened, eager to bridge the gap between your old self and this new Y/N; aching for a slice of your old life back even if it was just from this minute interaction.

“I… reconciled with my old ex-boyfriend,” you lifted your left hand up for the matronly woman to spot the engagement ring. “We’re getting married soon.” Her wide smile dampened your reluctance to speak and you divulged to her the real reason you had sought out sanctuary away from the world for a few moments. “I’m here not just to pray for my dad… I lost a baby.”

She did not judge you on your marital status or even pin the blame on your lascivious new lifestyle that landed you in this position. Rather, all she said was, “I am so sorry for your loss.”

It was funny how such a simple show of kindness had your walls fracturing and you fingered the locket around your neck. “I got this necklace made for my baby.”

Sister Teresa's dark eyes were warm when she regarded you. “They are with the Lord.”

“I just pray my dad is taking care of his grandchild.”

Her kind smile never wavered and she reached out to you. After years of sexual and even violent physical contact, you couldn’t stop the flinch. But, there was no ulterior motive to the warm press of her hand on yours beyond unadulterated sympathy and understanding “I’m sure he is. And I’m sure he’s proud of the woman you are today, Y/N.”

You had doubts if your father would be proud of how his sweet daughter became a prostitute-turned-gangster, but the holy woman before you did not need to know the truth. Deciding that you would break down and tell her everything that happened the longer you stayed here, you cleared your throat, tentatively squeezing her frail palm in yours.

“I have to go, but it was so nice to see you after so long, Sister Teresa.”

Your hesitance must’ve been scrawled on your face. She nodded and released her hold on your hand. “Of course, Y/N. God bless you.” Trailing after her when she left the pew, you bowed your head before this holy woman, thankful that you were given this piece of interaction to put your past behind you.

“God bless you, too.”

“Take care,” the older woman hesitated before adding, “we’ll always be waiting for you should you wish to return, Y/N.”

Somehow, that was enough reassurance that you were on the right path after years of running through an endless dark forest; you could see the light—you were allowed to see the light.

“I’ll keep that in mind, sister. Thank you.”

The figure of the woman he loved stepped out of the church and Ran straightened from his languid position on Kakucho’s bike, wondering what you had been doing inside.

But he didn’t have to ruminate for long; before approaching the Corvette, you dabbed at your eyes which he could see were red-rimmed even from this distance, lifting your shades to hide your sadness from the world once again. He sighed, already knowing what had transpired from his years of being intimately acquainted with you.

He brought his phone to his ear, carefully watching you close the car door and speed off towards the highway—back to Bonten HQ.

An answering click on the other end. “Everything alright, Ran?”

“Yeah, Mikey,” he sighed, “she made a trip to a jewelry store and went to a church. She was—is—still grieving.”

The head of Bonten did not need to ask him what you were mourning over. Everyone who was there on the day you pulled a gun on Mikey knew, despite how high you placed your walls in an effort to detract anyone from scaling it. The other man was quiet as he absorbed this fact.

“Take the day off—both of you,” was his curt response.

“Boss—“

“I don’t think I need to tell you twice, Haitani.”

There was no bite to Mikey’s bark; he sounded amused rather than threatening and Ran did not want to seem ungrateful for this show of kindness. Perhaps he could use this day to take you out shopping or try this one cafe you both had been meaning to visit for a while; anything to replace the red-eyed remorse with your usual sparkling smiles.

“Yes, sir.”

Dribbles of champagne dotted the counter when the men toasted, flutes clinking together, the sparkling flavor lost on your tongue as you chose to sip on a glass of water tonight.

Raucous laughter filled the space, hoots of this bar is so cool warming up the crevices of your soul at how bright everyone seemed tonight for the second Haitani bar opening in Roppongi. The writhing mass of bodies outside seemed to be muted when everyone was in this VIP room, the music vibrating through the walls almost drowning out Sanzu’s next words when he leaned in closer to you and said:

“So, I guess you’ll have your hands full with this new baby.”

“You can say that again,” you grinned up at your superior and nudged his shoulder. “But, don’t let Ran hear—he wouldn’t let me return to Bonten if you called our new bar that.”

Your fiancé was flitting around the room as befitting of the new co-owner of this establishment. Smartly dressed in a new three-piece Zegna that you had bought for him, the only thing more catching than Ran Haitani for tonight would be the tasteful decor and walls splashed with hues of dark purple that made you feel like you were nestled in the middle of a brimming, lively forest; the snatches of LED light almost akin to bright flashes of lightning—here for one split second and then gone.

“Pfft. I would drag you back myself. No one is as good with numbers as you are—well, besides Koko.”

“Glad to hear that my business acumen is helping us speed up our money laundering efforts,” you teased and Sanzu winked at you, cheekily retorting:

“We’d be lost without you, darling.”

A tap on your shoulder and you excused yourself from the pink-haired man’s side to address Mikey.

“I’ll be heading back soon,” he said and swept his dark gaze over the lively VIP room where only selected guests were allowed to mingle and enter. “Thanks for inviting me—it’s a good spot.”

“Of course,” you agreed with a fond smile. “Do you need me to call your driver, boss?”

“I have a ride,” he clarified and you didn’t pry; Mikey may have unfinished business and you sensed he didn't want to burden you with that knowledge.

“Just call us if anything comes up, okay?”

A fleeting smile lifted the corners of his lips and he bobbed his head once in acknowledgment. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“‘Night, Mikey.”

You watched him walk out of the room with his head bent and hands in his pockets, mentally wondering if you could perhaps lift some of the weight that hung on his shoulders by prepping him dinner tomorrow. A part of you wondered—did Mikey even eat? You’ve only ever seen him smoke and drink, but never consume a proper meal. That had to change soon; you couldn’t risk your boss withering away from the stress.

“Hey. Mikey left?” Ran’s voice jolted you out from your reverie and you made a sound of confirmation.

“Yeah—he said he had to go.”

Lilac eyes darted to his watch and he kissed his teeth. “It’s a little after four. I guess we should wrap this up.” You nodded and went to inform the bar to stop the flow of drinks. The dance floor outside was still in full swing, but slowly, lights were coming back to life, signaling to the inebriated crowd that the club was going to close soon.

At the VIP table, Kokonoi was counting a wad of cash despite how Ran told him to lay off his finances and Rindou was chatting to Takeomi who had a cigarette hanging limply from his mouth. A few random prostitutes hung around, some of them you recognized from brief meetings when you were once in their shoes, and others brought in by your future brother-in-law to keep the atmosphere lively in the room.

One of them was cuddled up next to Kakucho, and you sensed that he would most likely take her back home before the sun rose. Mochi had gone back before Mikey, and Sanzu was on his best behavior—nose clean, literally and figuratively, as he was sprawled next to one of the whores, letting her admire his scars.

From the corner of your eye, you saw one of the girls who was emboldened enough to sway over to your fiancé, sitting on his lap as he was speaking to one of the investors. Lifting a brow, he regarded her coolly, and you took that as your cue to walk over to her, gripping her shoulder in one tight hand and glaring down at her.

“You’re in my spot,” you spat, and pushed the drunk woman off his lap, ignoring her squeak of indignation.

Locking eyes with her, you straddled your man’s lap and touched your gaze with his to find him staring down at you amusingly. The short satin dress you wore had hitched up to your thighs, exposing the globes of your ass and you didn’t care to make yourself decent despite your status as the co-owner of this bar.

What you did instead was run your lips down your fiancé’s throat, nipping on the slightly salty skin softly before standing up, cognizant of how the girl was staring at you in incredulity. “I forgot something,” you said in a sickly sweet voice and nodded towards the investor who was trying hard not to stare at the plush flesh of your thighs as you strode away, making sure to brush against the stunned girl when you passed her.

As you spoke to the bartenders and took into account the stock for tonight, you felt an arm slide around your waist and lips in the crook of your neck. “Y’know… you’re incredibly hot when you’re jealous.”

Feeling pouty because he didn’t immediately push the girl off him, you huffed and pried his hand off you. “I’m closing up, Ran.”

Proving that he was persistent, those same warm lips trailed towards your ear, nipping your lobe affectionately. “I really was going to tell her to fuck off, baby. You were just faster than I was.”

“Hmph,” was your retort and you felt the low vibration of his chuckle in the pit of his chest.

“You’re so cute.”

Cute? Oh, Ran Haitani was really asking for it tonight.

You turned around in his arms and lifted yourself onto the counter. Under the strobing lights, his handsome smirk was all you could giddily keep your eyes on, and you tugged him closer by his belt, letting him into the circle of your legs and trapping him there with your thighs around his waist.

“Damn, baby—right in front of my investors and colleagues?” he teased and traced his fingers down your bare thigh.

“You should’ve paid me more mind, then,” you pouted and he leaned forward, kissing you on the plump of your lower lip. Letting his hand drift to your waist, neither of you cared that eyes were on you; he let his lips meet yours and you sank your fingers into his purpled locks, gasping when he sharply bit on your lower lip which gave him easy access to slip his tongue into your mouth. Despite the atmosphere growing hot and heavy, you kept your head leveled and swallowed the urge to moan into his mouth when his larger palms skimmed down your back, making you shiver with anticipation.

Pulling your mouth away from his enticing one, you breathed in deeply, raising your gaze beyond his shoulder and catching your colleagues’ eyes. The men shamelessly drank in your shy smile and how you tossed your hair to the side so Ran could suck on the exposed skin of your neck, your fingers tangling in his locks possessively. This little club-warning session was officially over for you.

“Bar’s closed!”

Your voice rang with undeniable authority and the bouncers responded to your orders. In the distance, a low groan from Rindou who had enough of you and his brother sucking each other’s faces off in front of everyone, and a come on, man from Sanzu who was just about to bring that whore into his lap.

If your colleagues were pissed, they dared not show it, not in yours and Ran’s turf. They knew their place.

Once the VIP doors closed with the last employee who staggered out, you released a low, dulcet moan.

“Ran—baby,” you panted, weakly pushing his face off your neck, the numerous love bites he left in his lustful oblivion starting to throb slightly. “N-not fair. You let me chase them out while you were enjoying yourself.”

He hummed, dipping his head lower to your cleavage, his tongue leaving warm curls of saliva on your heaving chest. “I knew you had it under control, baby.”

Squirming in his hold, you gasped when he pushed one thin strap off your shoulder, burying his face in the crook of your neck, drunk off your vanilla scent that made his cock all but jump at the thought of finally tasting you. “‘Sides, it was sexy watching you trying not to lose it.”

“Kaku shook his head at me,” you tried to keep the whine out of your tone, but failed. “The whole team probably thinks I’m a slut.”

“So, what?” he purred and looked down at you with those half-mast amethysts. “Even if you are, you’re my slut. And I don’t share what’s mine.”

The truth made your clit twitch and every fiber in your body was aching to have him.

His lips touched the clavicle of your throat where your necklace hung and he reached out to it. “This is pretty.”

“I had it made about two months ago,” you mumbled, thinking back to that darkest moment in your life when you were still grieving over your lost baby. Though the wounds were still there, it did not feel as tender as before; a scar replacing the throbbing, hot laceration with the veneer of time.

“It’s tanzanite.”

You affirmed his observation. “I got it done for… our baby.”

A rueful expression overcame him. You had expected him to be surprised or even point out why you would be doing this for a child you barely even knew—but all Ran did was trace his thumb over the engraved words. To the one I never got to hold. “I know. Mikey told me to trail after you that day at the jewelry store and the church.”

This did not surprise you. “Oh. I suppose he still doesn’t trust me.”

“He does,” Ran closed the distance and pressed his forehead to yours. “It was just that one time.”

You hummed and drifted your fingers to his tie, unlooping it, putting all thoughts of Mikey, your baby, and the mistakes you made out of your mind. Ran—he was the only thing you wanted to focus on tonight. You undressed him, starting with his loose tie, then his suit jacket and the creaseless vest to expose the white dress shirt underneath.

He got your message and pushed your other strap off, exposing your lace strapless bra from underneath the soft satin. There were no more words exchanged; warm puffs of his breath teasing your neck and leaving goosebumps down your arms when he pressed hot-open mouth kisses in between your breasts before gently drawing down the slinky cups; wrapping his lips around one turgid bud. You sighed, enjoying his attention when he shifted his mouth to the other nipple.

“Baby,” you whined when he slid one calloused palm down your thigh to touch the wet spot growing on your matching black panties. Pulling the scrap of lace down and tucking it into his pocket, he flashed you one cheeky grin before kneeling; tall enough that he easily came eye-to-eye with your pussy. Ran settled himself in between your thighs and you gasped when he used two large fingers to pry your soaking lips apart before his tongue slipped out to part through your folds.

Leaning back on one hand, you bit your lower lip, the music in the distance becoming mellower, the lights turning into one solid color of the softest shade of purple that matched the dilated lilac pupils that were cataloging your every reaction. There was a knock on the door and the both of you paused.

“Sir, ma’am? The club is officially closed,” the voice of your head bouncer drifted through the cracks.

Clearing your throat, you retorted, “Thank you. We’ll b-be out in a bit.” Your voice faltered when he started to suck on your clit, the sounds that came from the man in between your legs could rival the nastiest porn out there.

“Shall I leave the key with you, ma’am?”

Ran took the opportunity to slip one finger into your pulsing hole, enjoying your soft grunt of pleasure.

“U-um—just leave it on the table outside!” you chirped, flashing your infuriating fiancé one glare to tell him to cut it out. But, Ran was enjoying how quickly you were falling apart at the seams, your hips no longer under your control and grinding down on his tongue that was currently drawing maddening circles on your puffy clit.

“Alright. Goodnight Mr. Haitani, Mrs. Haitani.”

“G-goodnight,” you called and waited until the front door closed before releasing your restrained moan. The man below you only snickered, a devilish smirk on his angelic face.

“You’re s-such an asshole, Haitani.”

“Hmm? Hard to tell that you’re mad when you’re literally dripping over our counters, baby,” he mocked and straightened, chin shiny with your juices. You opened your mouth to retort, but the words were stolen from you when he brought you down from the high surface and pressed you to his chest. One hand slipped under your skirt, two fingers plunging deep into your depths.

“Ran!” your squeal bounced across the room; no sounds now beyond your heavy breathing. Using his free hand, he pushed your head forward, your cheek pressed into the glass counter.

“Look at the mess you made, you filthy girl,” he cooed and you were shocked to find a puddle where your pussy was just a few moments ago. “Lick it.”

“Ran—”

Those long fingers of his easily grazed your sweet spots, sending jolts of pleasure down your spine. The hot bubble deep in your belly was threatening to burst, your orgasm promising to wash over you in an act of vengeance. If it wasn’t for his arm locked around your torso, you would’ve probably slid down to the floor into a puddle; similar to the pool of your juices on the once pristine surface.

“Lick it and I’ll make you cum.” His breathy yet gravelly tone left you conflicted; those slim and nimble fingers felt blisteringly good and you were close enough to start clenching down on him. But, Ran did not give in, did not press on your swollen spot and your clit in that way which would always make you seize around him.

“Baby—”

“Come on. You’ve eaten my cum before and you’re shy to taste yours? You’re the sweetest pussy I’ve ever had—shame that you don’t experience it. Do it, Y/N.”

Flickering your gaze up to him, the hand on your neck did not seem to yield and you shuddered at how intently he was looking at you. There was no room for you to beg and worm your way out of this. Slowly, your tongue slipped past your glossed lips and you lapped at the almost creamy liquid, the taste of musk heavy in the back of your throat and making you feel filthier than the mess you had left behind.

Literally slurping your own cum, your cheeks were burning, the cold glass barely extinguishing the flame of embarrassment at how this was turning you on beyond the point of return. Those lilac eyes never left yours, occasionally flitting to your progress, and once the counter was spotless did he grin and nod approvingly.

“Good girl.” Ran didn’t give you any breathing room; fucking you vigorously with his fingers, your slick sloshing around his digits, and with his other free hand, he teased and tweaked your nipples, breath hot in the shell of your ear.

“Daddy,” you whimpered, the fog of lust making you throw out all caution, your needy sounds bouncing all across the walls. “Daddy—please…”

“Cum for me,” he breathed, “Cum for me like the little slut you are, Y/N.”

Seizing around his fingers, you keened out your orgasm, all but humping on his fingers like a bitch in heat, panting and moaning out his name. A suspended moment in time where you were purely made of just sensation—white filling your vision and you opened your clumpy eyes, your mascara surely smudged by now.

Ran had that same shit-eating grin scrawled across his face. “Earth to Y/N?”

You couldn’t speak, the orgasm that still pulsed through you rendering you mute, only capable of breathing hard. Taking advantage of your blurry state, he pushed your tiny dress up; your body automatically folding forward, ass up, arms folded, and head resting on them—a mare waiting to be bred by her stallion.

The flash of pain when his palm collided on your ass felt like the wildfire spread of ant bites. “Ran!”

“Uh-uh. It’s Daddy, you little bitch,” he cooed. The clinking of his belt as it fell to the ground faintly registered in your hazy mind and you grunted when he pushed his cock through the tight ring of your pussy.

“Daddy—” you gasped, jolting forward from the force of his first thrust, standing on your tiptoes to curve your body into a back-breaking bow to take his cock.

“Fuck… your pussy was made for me, darling,” he grunted softly into your ear, the press of his larger body into yours would’ve suffocated you, but you were already at a point that you did not care.

“Daddy, Daddy,” you chanted over and over again, every drag of his heavy cock through your already rippling walls making your tits sway back and forth like a pendulum; your vocal cords only knowing how to rasp dulcet Daddy’s, the second wave cresting and rising—threatening to drag you down into the crushing depths of your second release.

“Can feel you squeezing me so well, baby,” he growled, and nipped your pulse point, one finger coming to rub sloppy circles onto your engorged clit. All you felt was him—the weighted slap of his balls on your skin, the drenched sounds of your pussy receiving his every thrust, the smell of sex curling in the air together with his cologne, the imprint of his lips on your neck, that same finger running clockwise, clockwise, clockwise—

“Daddy!” you shattered around his cock and he moaned, spitting out curses and your name. You didn’t have to wait long to receive his long-awaited gift; his hot seed filling you all the way to the brim, plugged by his large cock still pumping a huge load of cum into your quivering cunt.

One last spurt and he slumped onto you, droplets of sweat dripping onto your bare shoulder. Ran grunted and unglued himself from you, removing his softening cock from your creamy depths. Warm dribbles of cum trickled down your thighs and a laugh slipped past your intumescent lips.

Your fiancé turned softer, lifting you into his arms and carrying you to the nearest sofa, spreading you onto his lap and adjusting himself so you could drape your head over his chest.

Shaky fingers carded through your hair and he pressed a kiss onto your sweat-slicked temple. He straightened your bra and slipped your straps back in place, one last kiss placed onto your neck.

There was no doubt that there were stars in your eyes and he fought back a smirk at how softly you were smiling at him in this instance. Ran was no less affected—a tender smirk on his face as he drank in your features.

“I have something for you.”

“Hmm?”

Leaving the warm impression of his chest and lap, you walked over to your purse and removed a small box from it. “Close your eyes.”

Ran adjusted and made himself decent, following your request and sliding his eyes closed. You sauntered over to him and sat back on his lap. “Okay—now extend your palm.”

You could see the apprehension suffuse across his face, but he did as you said; one palm up.

“If you drop a lizard into my hand, I’ll end you, Y/N,” he threatened and you pressed your lips together to keep from bursting out into peals of giggles, remembering how much he abhorred those scaly critters. Setting the square in his outstretched hand, you marveled at how much smaller the box seemed in his larger palm.

Sensing the weight, his lips twisted in a question, but you spoke before he could. “You can open your eyes now.”

Sleepy lilacs widened at the sight of a pair of baby shoes in his hand; still wrapped neatly in the clear plastic box they came in.

“I’m pretty sure these would not fit,” he joked and twirled the square between his long fingers. “If you forgot my shoe size, it’s a size ten, babe.”

Refusing to be swayed by his antics, you rolled your eyes good-naturedly and poked his cheek. “Those aren’t for you.”

Whether through sheer divine intervention or his common sense returning after a mind-numbing orgasm, your fiancé stared at the shoes, dumfounded.

“Y/N… you’re…”

He dared not even say those words out loud and you nodded, lips still pressed together to keep a smile from spreading too wide. You cataloged the questions that flashed through his eyes; the ever quick-witted Ran Haitani was stunned by this one bit of information that he could not keep up with.

You put it into words for him.

“I’m pregnant, Ran.”

“Is that why you refused the champagne?” was the first question he asked and you couldn’t help it—you laughed, the sound pure and filled with happiness at this shared good news with him.

“Mhm hmm.”

“Fuck,” he swore and brought the shoes closer to his face; a pair of yellow sneakers. “How long have you known?”

“I took a test last week and today again just to make sure.” You fidgeted with the necklace around your neck, waiting for him to speak.

As if the sun had pierced through amethyst clouds, his eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas and he chuckled, burying his flushed cheeks into your neck and rubbing them back and forth—nuzzling you to his heart’s content.

“You really made me a daddy,” he choked out and you threaded your fingers through his hair, nodding emphatically.

“We’re gonna be parents—for real this time.”

Rather than launching into a ton of questions, he preferred to admire the yellow sneakers in his larger grasp.

“We gotta talk to Mikey to let you take your maternity leave earlier.”

“Huh? But I’m barely in my first few months,” you mused at how he was already jumping ahead.

Ran snorted and raised his brow. “There is no way I’m letting you onto the field when you’re carrying my baby. Don’t even fight me on this.”

You clamped your mouth shut on the protests that were fighting to leave your tongue. “So, what? I’m just going to be your pretty little housewife now?”

“We’ll get maids to help around the house and the cooking,” he said and mistook your pout for your resistance. “Why? Are you against that idea?”

“It’s just…” you trailed off, unsure how to tell your fiancé that you wanted your privacy now that you were both expecting a baby. How could you share with him that you wanted the absolute freedom to walk around naked in your own home? That you wanted him to be the sole person to dote on you, to be able to fuck you anywhere around the house—on the dining table, by the balcony, in the bathroom, even in the living room—an act that you both could not partake in if there was going to be eyes on you every day?

“I wanted to—y’know… keep this between us,” you trailed one finger down his angular jaw and hummed. “I want to… indulge… at this moment with you, baby.” Wrapping your arms around his neck, you gave him a shy smile. “Just with you.”

Seeming to catch your drift, your soon-to-be husband chuckled, looping his fingers with yours. “Ah, you just want me all to yourself, huh? Don’t be scared to tell me the truth, baby.”

“Yeah,” you admitted and his grin grew.

“Fine. It’s about time we moved to a bigger penthouse, anyway. Rin was thinking about shifting, too.”

“He’s not going to stay with us, right?” you couldn’t keep the apprehension out of your tone, already pitying the younger Haitani for having to put up with your exacerbated hormones and newly… carnal urges for his older brother.

Ran chuckled and shook his head. “Nah. It’ll be hell for him. ‘Sides—” there was an edge of wickedness in his smile now. “I can’t fuck you freely if my little brother is in the next room, right?” He hummed, heart growing lighter at your small giggle. “I’ll move us to a penthouse and Rin can take the other unit in another building. At least we’re still close-ish.”

You sighed, “Sounds like heaven.”

“You’re heaven, baby,” he said and you didn’t doubt the sincerity in his tone.

Never in your life would you expect a plot of revenge to bring you such a wave of felicity in your life; the ugliest parts of your history turning into a happiness you had not felt for such a long time in those hard five years you spent parted from your better half—the love of your life and now the father to your unborn child.

“What do you think about a wedding, baby?” Ran’s bright smile was contagious and you allowed yourself to be swept up by his impulses.

“Now?”

“Tomorrow,” he said and placed one palm on your belly. “Our little bean can’t be born out of wedlock, y’know. I wanna make his or her mommy an honest woman first.”

Throwing all caution and plans out, you pictured how pissed off your wedding organizers would be when you decided to take matters into your own hands; disregarding their careful preparation all for a shotgun wedding because of the little angel now growing in your womb.

The old you, the one who trod through life with a looking glass to catch the smallest detail in case you would miss it; the one who lived in fear of what the next day would bring, no longer held any sway to your decisions. You were a free woman—fuck the shackles of your past. You would not be weighed down by them anymore; you were free to love, to exist, to just be.

You were free to just live.

“Deal. Let’s do this, Haitani.”

THE END.

a/n. if you all had no idea, this story was actually (partly) inspired by the k drama 'my name' and was a different genre i dabbled in at all those years ago to try my hand at dark content and heavier topics teehee <3 even though its been a while since i reintroduced this series, but i wanted to thank you all from the bottom of my heart for sticking with ran and y/n's story since it's first conception in 2021 till the final reuploaded chapter today <3

if you're still hungering for more daddy ran, don't miss out on my other series 'blackmail kiss' which is currently ongoing !! luv u all and see u soon <3

© all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own.