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saetoru · 1 year ago

Note

Do you think there could be a chance where reader and bully! gojo meet again years later and try again? Maybe 🥹

part one here — contents. fem! reader, exes to lovers, neighbors to lovers, slight nsfw so minors do not interact, slight angst but it’s a hopeful (pretty much happy) ending, idk what else lmk what i missed

imagine you guys are neighbors—you accidentally meet when you’re both walking up to your apartment doors one night after work. he pauses, and you can feel eyes staring into you from the side so you look over and yeah. wow. there’s your worst heartbreak of your youth standing right there in all his glory, staring at you like you’re a figment of his imagination come true. like he never expected to see you again (you suppose he probably didn’t).

“hey,” he says softly. satoru has never been one to greet someone first, never been the one to reach out and bridge the gap himself. he always waits to be approached. that much has surprisingly changed since the last time you saw him.

“oh…” you trail off, “hi. it’s you.”

you don’t seem half as happy to see him as he does you—but that much is to be expected, of course. satoru didn’t have the luxury of moving on, you can tell because you still can read him just as easy after all these years. like he hasn’t changed the small quirks about him, like he’s still tried desperately to hold onto his past because that’s where you were. he still looks desperately in love like the night you left him.

it’s pathetic, you wanna say. to still be in love for so long. when it’s so clearly over and there’s no coming back. a small part of you is filled with this sick, evil satisfaction that he’s still thinking about you when you don’t spare him a single thought.

but you suppose you’re not at over him as you thought when there’s this much excitement bubbling into you at his suffering. maybe, if you were actually completely over him, you’d be indifferent to him. you wouldn’t forget, but you’d forgive. you’d hope he learned his lesson and spared another innocent, poor girl from what you suffered for simply loving him. for simply wanting him to feel cherished and special and worth someone’s time.

you hope he’s better now—not for yourself, but for someone else. he doesn’t deserve a second of your time.

“you live here?” he asks, mildly shocked.

you’re almost offended. does he mean he thinks you can’t afford to live in the same apartment building as him? or is he just that shocked to see you? nothing about satoru seems genuine—you can’t help but assume the worst in him.

“yes,” you say curtly, “i moved here for work.” (why did you add that? why are you giving an opening to make conversation?)

“oh, really? me too,” he nods. (why is he making conversation? why couldn’t he have just ignored that opening and spared you the trouble?)

“oh,” is all you say. it’s silent for a bit, and then, “well, i better—”

almost like he knows what you’re about to say, he cuts you off with a quick, “i teach now.” you blink, staring at him in confusion. he rubs his neck as he adds, “i uh…i teach at that high school down the block. so uh…that’s why i moved here.”

“that’s…that’s nice,” you nod awkwardly. why is he telling you all this?

“yeah, my students are really cool,” he adds with a grin—it’s…a bit cute, actually. because he means it. his smile is too fond for it to not be true.

this isn’t the satoru you know—at least, not the one you think is the real satoru. you’re not so sure which side of him is actually him.

“i’m glad you enjoy what you do,” you offer. there’s not much else to say. “i’ll be heading in now.”

“right,” he coughs, “s-see you around.”

and then you really do see him around.

sometimes, it’s when you both leave in the mornings—he lets you enter the elevator first and presses the button for you when he gets in. he always lets you exit first too, like he cares to be chivalrous even if you’re not together anymore. sometimes it’s when you’re coming home—he’s holding a bag of take out as he walks up to his own door. you suppose he’s never been one to cook, and that probably hasn’t changed. sometimes, you’ll see him at the grocery store too—his cart is usually just filled with snacks and sweets. it’s not a very adult like shopping cart, so something’s evidently never change.

and every time he sees you, he always tries to strike up a conversation. no matter how short of a window your time is. even if it’s the forty five second elevator ride from floor one to floor three, he’s determined to say something.

today my students got me a gift—it’s a pair of sunglasses, because he still apparently loves those.

i got to take my students on a field trip today. i’ve been planning it for weeks—they have to write a paper on it, though. they’re not too happy about that even if they enjoyed themselves.

today was my student yuji’s birthday. i let the others out early to celebrate with him—they’re apparently all a good bunch of kids. friendly and tight knit in a way satoru’s never experienced. he thinks kids should hold onto that. good friends are hard to come by, after all.

and you’re always guarded. always so cautious and careful when you talk to him. sometimes you try to be polite, other times it’s abundantly apparent you don’t want to converse. he doesn’t pay it any mind, though. just rambles away and away and away and talks enough for the both of you because he’s just happy you’ll listen. even if begrudgingly.

and then one night, it happens—it’s late and you had to stay extra in the office. you’re grumpy and tired and the only good thing about this is that it’s late enough that you probably won’t run into satoru today.

except he’s waiting right there, head against your door as he fidgets with the door knob and grumbles incoherently under his breath.

“stupid damn door,” he slurs, “jus’ fuckin’ open.”

“ahem,” you clear your throat—he stiffens. “any particular reason you’re trying to break in?”

he turns to face you—stumbles a little as his glossed eyes look at you in confusion. he’s drunk—you can smell the liquor on him.

“whad’ya mean? ‘s my door,” he holds an arm out to gesture at your door.

“no,” you sigh, pointing to the door next to yours, “that one is.”

“oh!” he perks up, “‘s why it wasn’t working?”

“most likely,” you nod awkwardly, “that’s usually how that works.”

you watch as he unceremoniously stumbles over his steps to his door—how he tries but fails to get his keys through the key hole before you sigh and take pity on him. you don’t have it in you to leave a drunk person out in the cold, no matter how much (bad) history you might have.

“here,” you sigh, grabbing his keys from his hand and opening the door for him. you try to ignore that brief moment of warmth where your hands brushed against each other.

“do y’know what today is?” he mumbles, breath fanning over your shoulder as you open his door.

“i….tuesday?” you ask, in confusion. he looks crestfallen when you stare his face.

“oh, n-never—” he stumbles a bit. you catch him before you realize. “never mind.”

somehow, you barely manage to help him to his couch before he’s passing out, too drunk to really register anything else. satoru never drinks much—it was the funniest part about him. you used to tease him for it all the time, for being a frat boy who can hardly handle some alcohol.

i like being in control, he’d say petulantly, i don’t need to be drunk to have a good time. i am the good time.

you take a quick glance around his place before you can catch yourself. it’s not very different from your place—the living room is the same size and the structure is more or less the same. his tv is a bit more expensive, and his furniture is more simple. that’s about it.

you glance down at him one last time before walking out and shutting the door behind you. you hesitate for a moment before turning on the screen of your phone to check the date—it takes you a moment, but then it hits you.

it’s the day you broke up. all those years ago. it’s certainly been a good few—you almost forgot the date, but apparently satoru remembers. he remembers enough to go get shit-faced drunk as if the memory is too much to bear.

does he do this every year? drink away his sorrows every anniversary of the day you left him? does he really still care that much? why hasn’t he moved on?

and then you stop thinking about it. it’s not your problem.

but then you just…can’t help but be a bit more gentle around him. it happens without your control. maybe it’s muscle memory. maybe you’re finally letting your muscles relax and do that involuntary thing of their own that they do.

evidently that’s to be more soft with the boy who broke your heart. except he’s a man now, you suppose. he should’ve been a man when you dated him—but you’re glad he grew up eventually. even if you couldn’t be there with him for it.

but you’re a bit more friendly with him now—you suppose you can coexist with your talkative neighbor that also happens to be your awful ex boyfriend. you answer him a bit more when he talks to you, ask him about his students when he brings them up—he brightens so much when you do. it’s….painfully endearing.

yuji is sweet, a little too kind for his own good. nobara is a little tough to soften up, but once you do, she loves tenfold. megumi is a grump, but he’s a real softie. yuta is a bit socially awkward, but he’s got a good heart. maki is all business and very studious, but she’s a determined young girl. panda is not a panda—his name is odd but he’s funny. toge is quiet, but he looks out for people.

they’re good kids. he cares a great deal about them.

and then you start to tell him about your job. how your boss is another baldy that’s annoying—just like the professor you both shared. he chuckles at that. your coworkers are a good gossip, but you’d never go hang out with them outside of work. well, maybe except for one—utahime is a nice person, even if a bit of a priss sometimes.

it’s nice, talking to him. he’s funny, makes banter easily like it’s second nature. sometimes….sometimes it feels like old times. you’re not so sure how you feel about that, but you think it’s not bad. you can be grown ups, the two of you. you can be adults and ignore your immature past. the hurt is still there, but it’s manageable now. doesn’t linger and doesn’t weigh on you anymore.

sometimes satoru still stares at you in that way he did all those years ago, sometimes he still stutters over his words and loses his train of thought when he meets your eyes. he still loves you—you knew that from the start.

you stopped loving him a long time ago. that’s what you thought, anyway—but sometimes seeing satoru is….too familiar. it makes you feel things you thought you buried away for good. maybe it’s just deja vu, maybe it’s just the history speaking for itself.

or maybe…maybe you’re starting to tread a more dangerous path. the one that led you to your first, and worst heartbreak. you can’t step foot on that path again, no matter what.

that’s what you tell yourself, anyway—but satoru and you are talking one night. in front of your doors, like usual. you’re excited from a raise at work, and he’s excited because his students have done exceptionally on their final exams and you’re both celebratory in spirit enough that it turns into a cheery hug—and then…and then you’re kissing.

that wasn’t supposed to happen, but it does. you don’t know who kisses who, but you’re both wrapped up in each other and your lips are pressed against the others and oh, he feels so, so familiar.

like home. even if it’s not always safe to be there anymore, it’s still your home. you can’t let go of that nostalgia.

and then his hands cup your cheeks and your arms wrap around his neck and suddenly he’s in your bed—your door was already unlocked and the two of you somehow managed to stumble through the entire apartment until your back hits your mattress. your place is similar enough to his that he finds your room without any issues.

it was never supposed to happen—the shedding of clothes and the desperately needy kisses. the way you held his face and he held you. the way he trembled as he touched you, scared he’d mess it up again. the way you laced your fingers and kissed him between his brows like old times.

and then he fucks you like he means it. has his head in the crook of your neck and sniffles into your skin, rolls his hips and makes you mewl his name while he tells you every good thing about you.

you’re beautiful, the prettiest he’s ever seen. you’re so soft when you love, so delicate with the ones who hold your affection, it’s too much for anyone to deserve. you’re laugh is like music, a melody that’s impossible to grow tired of. but the most important part? you look at everyone like they’re worth something—just for existing, just for being there with you and crossing your path. worth your time, and energy, and compassion. they never have to work for it.

it’s rare, finding someone like that. it’s even more rare to get them to fall in love with you—satoru has never stopped regretting letting that go.

he whispers that all through breathy moans and the occasional cracked sob. whimpers when your fingers lock into his hair and pull the strands when his swollen tip kisses that spot he never forgot how to find. you cum first, falling apart with a gasp—and he cums right after, like feeling you is what it takes to make him come undone.

you still do that thing you did—rubbing his back as he spills into you, soothing him as he pants harshly into your skin. the only difference is that you don’t kiss his head sweetly and call him yours. god, he misses that so, so badly.

when his body slumps over yours, it’s when it hits you, what you just did.

“oh no,” you breathe, “oh god. we….we shouldn’t have done that, should we?” you ask tiredly.

satoru’s lip is trembling—he can’t bear to have you regret him. not again.

“i love you,” he says desperately, “i…i never stopped.”

“obviously you didn’t love me enough,” you mumble, not looking at him. it’s something you’ve realized—looking satoru in his eyes makes you weak.

you can’t have that.

“i’ll love you more than enough now,” he promises.

“what if i say i don’t love you anymore, satoru?” you challenge, “it’s been years. i didn’t wait around for you.”

his breath shakes at that. you think you got him there, but apparently he’s determined. it shocks you.

“then i’ll love enough for the both of us.”

for a moment, you can’t help but think if only everyone could see him now. years later. gojo satoru begging you to let him love you hard enough that you don’t have to. being okay with half of you because that’s better than none of you.

it’s almost comical. maybe a little sad. entirely avoidable if he’d just been brave from the start.

“that’s not fair to you,” you sigh, “you’re an asshole but…but you don’t deserve that. you deserve someone who can love you—”

“then i’ll show you,” he grabs your hand, pressing it to his face as he looks at you with enough hope that it’s almost too cruel to crush it. even for someone like him. “i’ll show you how to love me again. it’ll be easier this time. i promise.”

there’s a tear that slips down his cheek—and then another and another and another. and your thumb, just like muscle memory, swipes it away.

you want to tell him—it’s always been so, so easy to love satoru. easier than anything in the world. easier than loving yourself. it came like second nature, flowed through your blood stream and pumped through your heart. you loved him so easily.

you wish he’d loved himself a little bit easier back then. maybe he’d have realized who was worth keeping and who wasn’t. maybe he’d be happier now—a selfish part of you thinks you could’ve been happier that way too.

“satoru,” you sigh, “i have more self respect these days.”

“i know,” he nods, “i’ll be good—so good. i promise. i’ll wake you up with breakfast in bed and we can have three cats and i’ll pay for the vet visits. just like you always wanted.”

you can’t help but chuckle at that. he’s always known how to be charming at the right times.

“and what about the fancy window i always wanted?”

“i’ll get you one of those too,” he swears, “find us a nice place by the school and your job and we’ll be the best cat parents ever. and i’ll be good. so good.”

“i can’t do that all again,” you shake your head, “crying over someone like you is not worth it.”

“i won’t make you cry,” he insists.

something in you screams to believe him—that voice from your youth. that one that never quite stopped falling in love. that one that can’t ever really let him go.

“you don’t deserve me,” you mumble, pulling him close. he tucks his head into your neck, kisses your skin and breathes you in like he needs you to live.

maybe he does.

“i know,” he murmurs. “but i love you. i’ll make you love me again.”

“good luck,” you snort—your hand weaves into his hair, and your lips kiss his head.

well….maybe he’s already succeeded.

#i wasn’t gonna tag this buuuuuuuut….its kinda long so #i was like eh why not #but i’m not like tagging every tag just the main few #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #bully! gojo tag

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foxy-eva · 1 year ago

Text

Stress Relief

Summary: When Reader complains about back pain, Spencer offers a massage. Things escalate.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: (18+, minors DNI) a little bit of awkwardness, massages, implied hand kink, heavy kissing, fingering, handjob, unprotected penetrative sex

Word Count: 3k

Masterlist

It wasn't the first time your team had to double up in a hotel while working on a case but you had never ended up being paired with your favorite coworker before. When you stepped into the room after a long day of trying to save lives, you suddenly realized something.

Spencer was right behind you when he saw it too, mumbling an almost inaudible, "Oh."

Oh.

There was only one bed.

The receptionist had already let you know that they were completely overbooked, so switching to a different room was no option.

Spencer was quick to offer solutions as he started rambling, "I know Morgan said he wouldn't share a room with me but maybe he'll change his mind if I explain this to him?"

"Don't you think it's more likely he'll tease us? Besides, that would leave me with Hotch and I'd rather share a bed with you than with my boss."

Spencer shrugged and mumbled, "I always liked to double up with Emily. I wonder why she insisted on sharing a room with JJ."

You looked at him with raised eyebrows and a smirk on your face. "Yeah, who knows!"

You did know but Spencer was as oblivious as ever. If he was really that bad at seeing what was right in front of him, there was at least a chance that he hadn't yet caught onto your feelings for him either. You really hoped that tonight any improper thoughts you had would be drowned out by the exhaustion slowly taking over your body.

"I can sleep on the floor," Spencer voiced his final offer.

You shook your head in protest. "The bed is big enough for the both of us."

With that it was settled, you were going to share a bed with the man who had been occupying your mind an almost embarrassing amount. Spencer, however, had never once shown any signs that he reciprocated your growing feelings for him. So instead of addressing them, you decided to simply suffer in silence until they'd pass.

When he stepped into the bathroom to get ready for the night, you couldn't stop your mind from racing to fantasies far from being appropriate. It didn't help to hear him turning on the shower because now all you could think about was tearing your own clothes off to join him. Somehow you managed to keep your composure - for now at least.

Spencer looked absolutely adorable with his washed-out Caltech shirt and checkered pajama pants, so much so that you took several seconds to blatantly stare at him when he came back into the room. It caused him to look down at his body to make sure that everything was in place.

“Sorry, you just look really… cute like that,” you muttered to help with his confused look.

A slight rosy shade spread over his cheeks at your compliment and he looked at you as if he wasn’t quite sure if you were making fun of him. But of course your words were genuine.

As you gathered your things to go take a shower yourself, you snickered, “It’s a shame that outfit probably wouldn’t pass the FBI dress code.”

He took a book out of his bag and sat down on one side of the bed, chuckling, “Yeah, it definitely would not pass.”

The shower helped clear your mind and you were positive that you’d be able to go to sleep without any other distractions. As you approached the bed in your usual nightwear - a tanktop and some colorful shorts - it became obvious that Spencer was even worse at hiding his staring than you were.

“It’s weird, right?” You asked as you sat down on the bed. “Seeing each other in casual clothes, I mean.”

Without saying a word he just nodded before focussing back on his book again. As you leaned against the headboard of the bed you noticed something that had been bothering you all day. Your back was aching and your shoulders were painfully tense. You stretched your arms over your shoulders before you reached back to massage some tender spots on your neck.

“You okay?” Spencer asked as he turned his head to watch you.

“Yeah, it’s just my back pain. I slept weird last night and I have been sitting at my desk too much those past few days,” you explained.

To your surprise, he offered, “Maybe I could help?”

Before you could consider what feeling his hands against your body would do to you, you replied, “Yeah, that would be nice, actually.”

You readjusted your position until you sat cross-legged on the bed with your back facing your roommate for the night. Spencer set aside his book and sat behind you, tentatively putting his palms on your shoulders. The heat his body radiated entered your body and lit a spark inside you that you desperately tried to ignore.

When he began pressing his fingertips into the tense muscles of your shoulders and neck, you instantly became pliable under his touch. The places he touched were innocent but that didn’t change the fact that a familiar warmth spread through your body and collected in your center.

There was no way to hold back the shy moan from falling from your lips when he found a particularly tender spot.

He halted his motions to ask, “Did I hurt you?”

“No, it just feels really good,” you breathed.

“That’s nice to hear,” he cooed in the softest tone you’d ever heard from him. “You deserve to feel good.”

Those last couple of words echoed in your mind before you could grasp what they meant. It was that moment that you asked yourself if the innocent and shy Spencer Reid was trying to flirt with you.

To distract yourself, you decided to talk to him - unaware what colossal mistake that was going to be.

“So, where did you learn how to give back rubs?”

Nonchalantly as ever, he responded, “I read a book about it a few years ago.”

“You read a book about massages?”

The breath he let out at your question tickled the skin of your shoulders and you broke out in goosebumps. You hoped that he wouldn’t notice.

“Well, it was about tantric practices and there was a very interesting chapter about… uhm… full-body massages,” he explained, not helping with your current situation at all.

It was getting almost impossible for you to form coherent sentences, even more so when Spencer continued talking.

“Are you interested in that?”

Almost jumping at his words, you blurted out, “In getting a full-body massage?!”

“No!” Spencer laughed. “In reading the book!”

Before you could respond, you felt his hands wander down your back, lightly rubbing over your shirt. It was getting harder to focus with every second passing, too overwhelming became the need to feel more of him.

“I’ll think about it,” you finally responded.

Spencer’s fingertips brushed over your lower back, way too lightly to find any tight spots and you were wondering if he was trying to tease you at this point.

His words brought you back to reality. “I can continue with my massage if you want but uhm.. your shirt is getting in the way.”

Without thinking about it, you stated, “I’m not wearing a bra.”

“I know,” Spencer chuckled. “I won’t look, I promise. Just lay down on your stomach.”

The feeling of his hands on your body had left your skin tingling and you were yearning to feel it again. So without questioning his intentions or making sure his eyes were really closed, you took off your top and lay down on the mattress. Spencer kneeled beside you and began working his skilled fingers over your entire back.

Any tightness from tired muscles slowly left your body but you felt another kind of tension growing in your core. When Spencer grazed the waistband of your shorts with his fingertips, a sigh escaped your throat. He didn’t say anything, instead he kept massaging you until there was no patch of skin on your back left unattended to.

The second time he brushed over your waistband gave away that he was doing it on purpose. For a moment you thought that he might slip his hands right beneath it to descend further down your body. That thought caused you to unwillingly press your thighs tightly together to soothe the aching between your legs.

Spencer must have noticed it, too, because he audibly let out a breath right at that moment. His hands were still on your back when a quiet moan left your mouth and you noticed that your hips had started moving ever so slightly, desperate to find some friction. You weren’t sure if Spencer had been watching you doing that until you halted those tiny motions.

“Don’t stop,” he purred. “You look so pretty like this.”

You turned your head enough to see him from the corners of your eyes. The hardness straining against his pajama pants was impossible to ignore but even more intriguing was the smirk spread over his face. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were dark and filled with lust. Seeing him like this suddenly let any restraint you had left vanish.

“Please, Spencer,” you begged him to keep going.

One of his hands found the side of your face to brush a strand of hair aside. He leaned down to place a soft kiss on your heated cheek before he whispered, “Tell me exactly what you want.”

Spencer’s hands were all you could think about. Every fiber of your body was longing for him and you felt like you might combust if he didn’t grant you relief anytime soon.

“Please continue and… go lower.”

In an instant his hands were on your backside, greedily grabbing your soft flesh through your shorts.

“Like that?” Spencer groaned.

You tilted your hips to press your butt against his hands and slowly opened your thighs before you whimpered, “Lower.”

As his fingertips wandered over your thighs you felt how your arousal began soaking through the fabric of your panties. His hands dared to move underneath your shorts, grazing along the apex of your thigh. It was not enough to soothe your aching but enough to drive you wild.

You moaned out his name before whining, “Take them off, please.”

“You’re so cute when you get all desperate,” he chuckled in response.

There was no more teasing then. When he finally grabbed the waistband of your shorts, you immediately lifted your hips so he could pull them down together with your panties. He reached between your thighs to finally touch you where you were burning for him.

The realization of how aroused you were let a groan escape his mouth. His fingertips glided through your folds before focussing on your most sensitive spot while he purred, "You're so fucking wet."

It was the first time you had ever heard him use a curse word, the sound of such crude language shooting through you like lightning. All your senses were on edge, you couldn't think about anything else but him.

The sensation of his fingers moving over your sensitive pearl was somehow too much and not enough at the same time. You hadn't realized that you were grinding your hips against his hand until his words brought you back to reality for a moment.

"You deserve to feel so, so good. Let me take care of you."

At that you point you weren't even sure what you were begging for when an almost silent "Please," made it past your lips. Spencer, however, seemed to understand. He let two of his digits enter you, finding no resistance from your body. As soon as you felt him inside you, you couldn't help but clench around him.

Slowly he began working his fingers against tight muscles at an angle that made you almost lose your mind. There was no more holding back the sounds of pleasure falling from your lips, so you buried your face into the pillow to muffle your moans.

You felt Spencer's free hand brushing over your hair while he whispered, "Don't hide those sounds from me. I want to hear you."

With that you turned your head to the side again, just enough to be able to see his beautiful face. His smile was too much for you to handle, so you decided to close your eyes instead.

The room filled with your moans and mewls and the sound of his hand relentlessly moving against your wet center. Within just a few minutes you were dancing along the edge of euphoria. Spencer noticed that, too.

"You're doing so good," he praised you. "Let go for me, sweet girl."

You felt him moving over your swollen nub one more time before your body began to tremble beneath him. He helped you ride out your high with a few more skillful motions before he lay down right beside you.

When he found your eyes, he whispered, "You okay?"

Instead of answering him, you grabbed his wrist to bring his fingers to your lips. They were still coated with your essence when you took them in your mouth to suck them clean. Spencer stared at you in disbelief, almost as if he was witnessing some kind of miracle.

You could still taste yourself on your tongue when you found his lips in a hungry kiss. He didn't waste any time to reciprocate your enthusiasm, his tongue meeting yours as the two of you melted into one another. There was no space allowed between the two of you, with your chest pressed hard enough against his you could feel his accelerated heartbeat.

His palms began wandering over your exposed skin as if he'd never have enough of touching you. Your hand became curious as well, moving underneath the hem of his shirt to finally feel him without any barrier. It wasn't enough though, you needed all of him.

With joined forces you rid him of his clothes and took a moment to take in the beauty of the man in front of you. As your eyes locked once more you found the sweetest smile spread over his face.

"You're so pretty," you breathed before kissing him again.

"And you're so beautiful," he mumbled against your lips.

His hardness was pressed firmly against your thigh and you could already feel the tip leaking onto your skin. A sneaky hand found its way between your bodies to touch him. Your fingertips found soft curls at the base of him before wrapping around his shaft. He felt hot and heavy in your palm and you noticed him twitching when you began moving your hand.

Spencer gasped into your mouth once you reached his tip and his whole body quivered when you let your thumb swipe over it. Your kiss was interrupted by him panting against your face as you sped up your motions.

"Look at who is getting desperate now," you teased him.

He already seemed lost in the pleasure when he whimpered, "Feels so good."

Your hand left his erection to push against his shoulder until he was lying on his back while you snickered, "You know what would feel even better?"

As you began straddling his hips, Spencer's hands flew to your waist.

He still needed reassurance before he let you continue. "Are you sure about this?"

You nodded and promised, “I want you Spencer.”

"I want you, too. More than you can imagine."

With your hand around his cock you lifted your hips to guide him to your entrance. As you sank down on him, Spencer moaned out your name. You took your time, relishing the sensation of him slowly stretching you open. Once he was fully inside, you could feel his heartbeat deep within you.

As you began grinding your hips against him, his hands moved from your waist to your breasts to caress your soft curves.

“You have no idea how long I have wanted you,” Spencer sighed.

You leaned down to find him in a kiss before you whispered against his mouth, "You have me now. I'm yours."

His hips began moving in perfect synchronicity with yours as you chased the sweet relief together. When you began moving faster, Spencer suddenly gripped your hips to halt your motions.

"I'm so close. Slow down," he whined with desperation clearly audible in his voice.

That didn't slow you down, though. Instead you purred, "Me, too," and kept going. Spencer threw his head back into the pillows and sang your praise in the form of his moans. You tried to hold on just a little bit longer, not to torture him but because you didn't want it to end yet.

When one of his hands descended from your hip to where your bodies were joined, you knew that it wouldn't be long now. He began drawing small circles with his thumb around your little bud, throwing you over the edge within a few seconds. Once he felt your walls pulsing around him, he let go himself.

Each of your twitches was answered by him throbbing inside you, sharing his essence with you until he had nothing left to give. Spencer welcomed you inside his arms as you collapsed on top of him with a racing heart and lungs longing for air.

You stayed connected for as long as physically possible but once he was soft, you felt him slowly slipping out of you together with the mixed evidence of your shared desire. Spencer insisted on helping you clean up the mess between your legs and was quick to get a damp towel from the bathroom.

Watching him carefully rid you of any remaining stickiness somehow felt even more intimate than anything you had done before. Neither of you bothered to put clothes back on, instead you cuddled up under the comforter together to savor the sensation of having each other near.

When you thought back to what led you into Spencer's arms earlier tonight, you couldn't hold back your giggles.

"Maybe I should read that book you mentioned."

"You can, if you want," Spencer chuckled before he began kissing along your neck. When he found your ear, he whispered, "I'd much rather show you everything it says, though."

Taglist: @nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @gspenc @justreadingficsdontmindme @samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @malindacath @pauline5525mgg @sanaz1dlol @luredwithpretzels @reidselle @alexxavicry @frickin-bats @spencersprettyslut @sebs-oxygen @beepbooptoop @lovejules888 @liltimmyst @encyclo-reid-ia @lilibet261 @fandomstuffff @spencer-reid-wonderland @happymangospot @conniesanchor @reaux02 @ellamaianderson @cynbx @dashneydanger @melifluorei-d @bitchassbecky691 @iameternallylonely @hotchandspencearedilfs @kobaltdragon @amititties @castiels-majestic-wings @torigorie @emiliaserpe @thenerdthatwrites @reidtopia @velvetthunder93 @cncoxlifeline @jordie-gvf-admin @saturnstringz @missabsey @spencerslove @guacam011y @whoopdy-doo @hugyourlungs

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds smut

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burreauxsworld · 1 month ago

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Ours To Keep (3) | Joe Burrow

Smut/18+, Fluff, Slight Angst

Summary: you and Joe are learning to juggle your pregnancy on top of the fast approaching football season, all while growing even closer than before, which neither of you thought was possible.

You’re bent over the toilet of the facility bathroom emptying to contents of your stomach. The nausea seemed to come in swinging. This is how you found yourself most mornings, and even throughout the day. The anti-nausea medicine prescribed to you barely ever seemed to work. Letting out a groan, you flushed the toilet and stood up.

It’d been two weeks since the confirmation of your pregnancy, and you learned from the ultra sound that you were about 3 months along. While you weren’t showing yet, the weight gain was starting to become obvious. Your jeans no longer fit you, so you opted for leggings most of the time. Your bra’s became too snug, so you had to get new ones. Most of all, you’d started wearing Joe’s bengals shirts to work to hide the weight gain. The two of you still hadn’t told anyone about the baby. You wanted to live in your own little bubble for a while. Joe agreed, knowing it would cause less stress for you if you hadn’t told anyone yet.

You washed your hands and walked out of the bathroom. You stopped by your office to grab your laptop, and made your way toward the practice field. Practice wasn’t open to the public today so you opted to work outside. You needed some fresh air anyway. You took a seat on a slightly shaded part of grass, and started to respond to emails regarding brand deals and events that Joe would need to go to. Setting up interviews and juggling everything around his football schedule. You also had to plan doctors appointments around both of your schedules, because he said he refuses to miss a single one.

You hear a whistle blow, and look up just in time to see Joe hoping on one foot, out of the way of the play and taking a seat on the ground, with his brow furrowed in pain. Your heart drops to your stomach. You set your laptop aside, and watch as Coach Taylor walks over to Joe. You don’t dare walk over there because Joe would throw a fit if someone even accidentally bumped you.

“Fuck,” you mutter as Joe gets carted off the field. You gather your things and quickly make your way back into the facility. You find Joe in one of the medical rooms sitting on the table, he’s by himself so you slip into the room. “Hey, what happened?”

“Strained my damn calf.” he spits, and you wince. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out so harsh” he apologizes. “Zac dismissed me for the day. I’m just trying to find the motivation to get up and take a shower before we head out. Hurts like a bitch,” he admits, looking over at you. “Do you need help?” You ask and he shakes his head.

“No, I should be okay. I don’t think I can drive though”

“Well it’s a good thing we came together then. You’ll just have to trust me to drive your baby” you joke, and he jokingly rolls his eyes. “If I can trust you to carry my baby then I guess I can trust you to drive my third baby” he jokes, and you grow confused. “Third?”

“Well, there’s you, our baby, and my Porsche” he explains, and your heart melts. “Let’s get outta here,” he says before you can say anything, slowly getting on his feet.

•••

“Thanks, baby” Joe says as you set a plate of food in front of him while he sits on the couch with his leg elevated. You smiled at him in return before taking a seat next to him. You look over at him while he eats, and you can’t shake the thought from your head. “Joey,” you say, catching his attention. “Can we talk…about us?”

He sets his plate aside and looks over at you, not being able to move much due to his calf. “What about us?” He asks softly. You let out a sigh. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just wondering where everything leaves us. You know, with the baby and all. I’m 100% okay if you don’t feel the same way, but I have to get this off of my chest” you tell him, taking a deep breath. He bites the inside of his cheek, stopping a smile from forming. He knows exactly where this is going.

“I’ve liked you for a really long time. Which is why I let our situation go on for such a long time. I craved that touch from you. I craved literally anything from you. I guess what I’m trying to say is, this baby made me realize that I don’t want to be without you. Ever. I love you, Joey, and you don’t have to say back. I just needed you to know-“

He cuts you off by pulling you in for a kiss. The kiss was slow, not rushed. Soft and full of love. It felt like fireworks were bursting in your chest. You pulled away and stared into his eyes, a look of adoration evident in the ocean blue irises that you loved so much.

“I love you, so so much” Joe mutters. “You and our baby”

“So what does this mean for us?” You ask quietly, with a hint of hope in your voice. “It means you’ve always been my girl, but now it’s official” he smirks, pulling you to straddle his waist. “Joey, I don’t wanna hurt you!” You shriek, trying to get off of his lap. “It’s my calf not my thighs. You’re perfectly fine, baby” he assures you, before smashing his lips onto yours.

This kiss was feverish and full of desire. The raw passion made the room around you feel warm. Joe’s hands settle on your ass, grinding you down on his growing erection inside his sweats. He groans into the kiss as he repeats his action. Your hands slide down his clothed chest, moving slowly toward the bottom of his hoodie. You slide your hands under his hoodie and his shirt, moving it up and he help you take it off. His hands grip the bottom of your shirt and pull it over your head, you weren’t wearing a bra, do your boobs sprung in his face.

His mouth attaches to one of your sensitive nipples and you let out a sharp gasp. “Please be gentle, they’re sore right now” you tell him breathlessly. “I got you baby, I’ll take care of you” Joe says, his tongue slowly circling your left nipple. You tip your head back as you let out a soft moan. He gently sucks it into his mouth before letting it go with a pop, moving to the other side.

“Fuck, Joey” you whine, grinding yourself into his lap. “You like this gorgeous? Fuck, your tits are huge now. They’re so beautiful” he groans, softly kneading them in his large hands. You lean in capturing his lips again. His hands push your cotton shorts over the curve of your ass, slapping it as he does so, causing you to gasp.

“Take these off,” he says, helping you stand to remove your shorts. He removes his sweats as well. Both of you completely bare, not like you haven’t been before. You straddle his waist again, his hard cock rubbing perfectly against your swollen bud. You whine, grinding down. “I’m gonna take care of you, baby, don’t you worry” he whispers in your ear, his voice laced with lust. His hand moves between your thighs, groaning when he feels how wet you are for him. You whine as he gathers your wetness and his fingers start to circle your clit.

Your nipples rubbing against his chest made the pleasure feel almost overwhelming. His lips are back on yours while his fingers work you. Your moans and whines are caught in his mouth. He pulls away, his lips finding your chest again, you throw your head back. “Fuck Joey!” You whine loudly. “Fuuuckk” you moan out, and he smirks against your chest. You let out a sharp gasp when his fingers move from your clit to your sopping entrance, and he inserts two fingers.

“Fuck you’re so wet for me,” Joe groans. “Baby, I’m gonna cum” you whine out and his fingers move faster. “Cum for me baby. Cum all over my hand”

Your breathless moans sound throughout the living room, your head tipped back as you fall apart from just his talented fingers. You lean forward and rest your sweaty forehead on his shoulder. “You think you can ride me, baby?” Joe mutters into your ear, nipping at your earlobe. You nod and pull back to position yourself above him. Sinking down slowly, you feel every inch. Every vein. Your eyes are shut and mouth formed into a perfect “O” shape. Joe lets out a groan as you’re fully seated. He gives you a minute to adjust to his size.

You feel so full. You haven’t felt this in almost a month due to the two of you being so busy. You start to move back and fourth, a soft moan slipping past your lips. Joe’s large hands find your waist to help guide you. You let out a laid moan as he lips your hips and slams you back down. “Oh my god!”

“Yeah, you like that baby?”

You let out a loud moan in response. His hands basically doing all of the work. The pace is merciless. His cock hitting all the right places. “Fuck, daddy, right there!” You yell out, without realizing what had slipped, but Joe fucking loved it. “Say it again.” He orders, moving you faster. “Fuck, daddy!” You gasp out. You can feel the knot tightening in your belly. Joe can feel the way you’re squeezing him, and he knows you’re close.

“You gonna cum baby? Cum all over this dick”

You let out a loud, high pitched whine. “I’m gonna fill you up. You’re gonna look so sexy all big and pregnant with my baby. Fuuckkk” Joe groans, tipping his head back. You yell out as you come apart, his hands holding you in place. Both of your chests heaving. You lean forward and lay your head on his shoulder and slowly lift yourself off of him, both of you hissing.

“That was hot,” you comment breathlessly.

“So hot.” Joe agrees. “You good?” He asks and you lift your head to make eye contact. “So good.”

“But I am a little hungry.” You comment sheepishly, and Joe lets out a loud laugh. “Alright. Let’s go shower and then get you and baby some food”

•••

The next day at work was a busy one. The first pre season game was in just 3 days. You and other players assistants were running around like chickens with their heads cut off trying to prepare everything for the guys. You more than most since you literally work for the quarterback. You felt like you hadn’t had a chance to stop and take a breath.

Finally you were able to retreat to your office for lunch. Gabby already sitting at her desk, smiled at you tiredly as you walked in. “Hey girlie” she says, and you smile at her. “Hey. Heard your load was pretty big today” you comment and she groans. “Don’t remind me—oh my gosh! Y/N, you have blood on the back of your pants” Gabby says, letting out a gasp. You heart falls into your stomach. This isn’t happening.

“Oh my god!” Your eyes begin to fill with tears. “Hey, it’s okay. I have an extra pair of pants in my bag that you can borrow-“

“Gabby, I need you to go get Joe”

“Why would you need Joe for this?” She questions confused. “Gabby please. Just get Joe”

#joe burrow #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow smut

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targaryen-dynasty · 11 months ago

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YOU‘RE THE ONLY THING I PRAY FOR. (1/3)

Daemon Targaryen x niece!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT — MINORS DNI; NON/DUB-CON, canon typical incest/targcest (uncle & niece), blasphemy, taking of virginity, female reader

WORDS: 4.6 K

NOTES: Part 1 is here! At the anon that has requested it: thank you so much for this. I hope it lives up to your expectations.

Daylight has first appeared when you break your fast, completely dressed and ready to start the day by paying a visit to the Grand Sept. It’s one of the rare days the queen does not accompany you for your morning prayer as her queenly duties have called for her even before the first light. But you bask in the rare solitude her absence grants, looking forward to the time you get to spend all by yourself.

A carriage waits for you as you walk down the steps of the Red Keep leading into the courtyard, the door already opened and a servant anticipating for you to get in.

“And where might you be going so quickly?” You know the voice that pierces through the silence of the morning, and are not surprised when you turn around to spot your uncle approaching. He’s clad in a white tunic and black breeches, looking as though he has just gotten out of bed.

Bobbing a small curtsy, the slight bow of your head does little to hide the surge of warmth that spreads to your cheeks, trying to suppress the nervous smile his presence always coaxes from you.

It could be mere happenstance that you two meet right when you’re about to leave the keep, but something deep inside of you tells you he’s more than familiar with your morning routine.

“I was just heading to the sept to pray, uncle,” you reply, your eyes locking with his as he creeps closer.

The smirk that grazes his features at your words sends a shiver down your spine because it doesn’t mean any good; it never means any good. “And what is it that you pray for exactly, sweet niece?” he asks in a playful tone, raising a brow. His head cocks to the side, and he sizes you up briefly. “Does a princess such as you pray for love? Pray for a husband?”

Despite the rush of embarrassment you feel when he makes his comments, you can’t deny the truth in them. “I pray for many things…” you trail off, pressing your lips into a thin line and contemplating if you should elaborate further. But the ultimate act of piety is to be honest, genuine, and you know it’ll surprise him more than a snappish remark. “I pray for the love of my family, as well as my own. Though I must admit that what I pray for most is to be married one day, and provide my husband with a healthy heir.”

He must have noticed the way your eyes trail up and down his tall frame throughout your little lecture, despite you having your neck craned to meet his gaze, because his brow doesn’t seem to lower at all, staying in its exact position as he’s seemingly impressed by your words and your honesty. However, there’s also a pregnant pause following them, and you brace yourself for whatever taunting or derogatory comment might follow.

“Might I join you?”

The question catches you off guard, and causes you to tilt your head sideways.

Pious isn’t a term you would use to describe your uncle. If he believed in anything, he’d merely worship the Gods of Old Valyria and would not follow the Faith of the Seven. Nevertheless, you’re thrilled he even considers accompanying you to the Grand Sept, because you’re certain he’s never seen it from inside.

“I would be honored by you joining me, uncle,” you say, smiling softly. “I would not have to pray alone.”

“It would please me greatly, niece.” His eyes run over your form, lingering a little longer on your middle, clearly taking in your curves and attire. The dress you wear is completely different to the ones your younger sister usually wears, and comes closer to the gowns the queen dons nowadays. It’s modest and covers you completely, basically from head to toe.

Mayhaps that’s where he sees the challenge.

You briefly nod your head, and take his hand as he offers to help you into the carriage, climbing the steps before sitting down on one of the upholstered seats. You make note of how warm and unexpectedly smooth his hand is when you let go of it, having expected it to be calloused and somewhat rough from all the riding on dragon back and training with the sword he does.

Daemon takes his seat next to you, and it’s evident you have all of his attention with him not tearing his eyes off of you once. What you don’t know is that he’s always found a liking in you. You’re sweet and innocent, demure even, and the complete opposite to Rhaenyra.

More oft than not you make your uncle feel as though you really do not deserve an unvirtuous man such as himself, just as your father has told him back when Daemon had asked him to grant him your hand in marriage. You’re a girl that has never taken a man’s touch before, innocent in both mind and body – a vision obviously tantalizing to many men of court.

He looks over you once more. You feel his gaze burning into your skin regardless of how badly you focus on what you see passing on the outside of the wheelhouse, and you can’t deny that you would love nothing more than to learn of what’s occupying his mind.

The ride to the sept isn’t too long, and shared in silence thick with tension. When the carriage comes to a stop and a servant opens the door, you rise from your seat and climb down the steps. Your hands are clasped in front of your body on the way into the Grand Sept, closely followed by the looming presence of your uncle.

And you immediately feel at peace when you walk through the heavy doors held open by several guards, breathing in the scent of incense and relishing in the quiet it brings. Though there is no reason for you to feel flustered with the company of your uncle, having grown up around him, your heart still feels as though it beats too fast, pounding against the confines of your ribcage.

The truth is, you have not prayed for any husband – you have prayed for him to become your husband. And every single one of your prayers resolved around the wish for him to join you some day. The Grand Sept is your home port, giving you a sense of safety and being the place you always return to. And what could be better than sharing this feeling with the person your heart and body long for?

You nod subtly toward the few septas and novices that cross your path on the way to the large stone altar in the center of the sept, attempting to not draw too much attention to you and the prince that trails closely behind.

Rolling one of the thin vestas between your index finger and thumb, you carefully set it alight with a candle that’s already lit before you proceed to light your own. The small piece of wood is extinguished with a soft blow of air, and you brush your fingers over the sheet of wax that covers the gray marble beneath, watching the sea of lights in front of you.

“Have you been in the sept before, uncle?” you ask, innocently. It might seem like a witless question, but is completely fair considering you have never really seen him pray before.

You are not oblivious to just how different you are from your own kin, for neither your father, uncle nor sister frequent the sept, let alone pray before they break their fast or eat their supper.

When they’d ask you, you’d say that the contrast between you and Daemon is the most blatant, closely followed by the differences you and Aemond have. Though your younger half-brother, more oft than not, resolves to praying, you know it’s just to please his devout mother.

If anything, you most resemble Alicent, despite not sharing the same blood with her. She has taken you under her wing as your mother died birthing your late brother, strengthening your very being with her own faith.

Daemon chuckles at your question, following after you to the stone altar. It’s an easy game for him to pretend to be pious, having resorted to colder measures many times before. “I will admit that I do not frequent the sept as much as you. It’s just…,” he trails off, looking around the room and taking in the architecture. “... not exactly to my liking. I much prefer the worship of the Old Gods of Valyria.”

Just like you have thought. It’s tempting to worship and follow the customs your very ancestors have set up and believed in, bringing you closer to what ties you to the family whose love you always pray for. But where were these Gods when you needed them most?

“But doesn’t everyone in King’s Landing worship the Seven? Do you not think them worthy of your devotion?” you ask, cocking a brow as you slowly sink to your knees. You still look up at him, but already fold your hands to prepare for the prayer.

Daemon watches you carefully, no, he blatantly stares at you, taking you in and watching you on your knees from his level of height. It’s exciting, to say the least. “Oh, I do not consider them unworthy, they have been worshipped in Westeros for centuries, but you can not expect me to deny my heritage, niece.”

It’s your heritage as well, and it includes the customs that would allow for you to wed the man you have always longed for. That is, if you were not betrothed already.

The marriage to Jason Lannister, like your father has requested, is the most fitting option, you know. It’s no match made out of love but rather a political arrangement, and doesn’t heed your own wishes.

He’s no more a man that deserves you than your uncle, though the prospect and thoughts of marrying Daemon do excite you more. Perhaps this excitement stems from the suppressed desire of wanting the opposite of your pious nature, something that would make you feel alive as much as riding Silverwing does.

But your uncle isn’t interested in taking you to wife. His late wife died a few moons ago, and if someone has always had his attention and favor, it’s your younger sister, Rhaenyra.

Flashing you a tight-lipped smile, he approaches one of the pews close to the altar and sits down. You focus on the candles in front of you and fix the flames of them to watch them dance, calming you down and bringing you back to the matter at hand; your morning prayer.

But under the intensity of his stare, you find it incredibly difficult to focus on your wishes and steady your thoughts, and you rely on the Seven for their guidance. The direction in which your thoughts stray is improper and silently proscribed by the people of the realm, and you haven’t spent all of these mornings in the sept to let it all go to waste with the foolish wish to follow your House's customs.

Lowering your head, you quietly speak your prayers and plead for the Seven to see you in good favor before them despite the sins that may come upon you in the future.

Your uncle, on the other hand, only now realizes that this is the best time he could wish for to get you alone, all by yourself with no one to interrupt. And as the wait for you to finish your prayers doesn’t stop to pass agonizingly slowly, he’s overtaken by his urges and begins to quietly approach you.

You’re in the midst of your prayer when you feel a sudden presence in your space. Opening your eyes, you spot him sinking down on his knees right next to you, his broad shoulder brushing yours in the process, pressing against your frame.

He’s so close to you that you feel the warmth emanating from him despite the layers of clothing. “You have been so faithful to the Seven,” he whispers with a rasp, keeping his eyes neatly trained on you. “It is only right that they finally grant you something in return…”

There are goosebumps prickling on your skin at his words, the sensation even raising the hairs on the back of your neck.

Despite growing up around him, you have never shared such close proximity with him before, at least not since you can remember. It feels so intimate, and the way in which he speaks makes it more than obvious that it’s plain profanity.

Daemon is clearly taking advantage of your piety, and twists your words and beliefs into something much more impure.

But it seems that your body renders what your mind doesn't. It knows what he is up to even before you can grasp it, and you suddenly notice the uncomfortable way your smallclothes cling to the apex of your legs, a cold moisture making the linen sticky.

You can’t speak, far too absorbed in his presence, and barely notice that he’s slowly inching towards you, until the tips of your noses brush against each other.

Daemon is not moving closer, basking you in a sense of feigned superiority that gives you the impression that you’re the one in control. If you’re about to kiss, it’s because you want to do so, at least he’s making you think that. But by the Seven, how badly you want to kiss him.

You’re the one to close the gap between you and press your lips firmly to his. You feel the warmth of them against yours, and are overtaken by a haze. You have never expected this to be the result of your joint visit to the Grand Sept, and you feel as though you're melting with a jolt of heat – until a cloud of panic washes over you.

Pulling back with a gasp, you topple over on your arse, grateful for the space it puts between the two of you. You bring your fingers to your lips, touching them as if you mean to prolong the feeling of his lips on yours.

“I-I do not wish to be a prude, but…” you try to deny his advances. You don’t know where to look, eyes frantically flickering to the ground, the ceiling, and even checking if anyone is around to see what has happened.

Daemon licks his lips with a sigh, and you see him contemplating his next moves, the silence making your heart pound in your ears. “You’re a pious woman,” he raps, or rather just states the obvious.

And then he slowly stalks closer again, only to bury a large hand in the hair at the back of your head, using the grip to bring you closer to him again. “Why have the Gods made me love a pious woman?”

You’re holding onto his shoulders, not sure if you want to draw him impossibly closer or push him away. Your wide eyes carefully study his features, before he leans in and starts to press kisses to the side of your face that leave you whimpering and mewling.

Daemon has his strong arms wrapped around your frame to pull you flush against his chest now, and you’re squirming and panting, trying to get away from him while his hands make quick work of pulling and tearing at the skirts of your dress already.

“Un-Uncle… not here, please,” you try to protest.

He brings a hand to your cheek, turning your face so it’s easier for him to capture your lips in a heated kiss again. It takes all the strength you can muster to pull away from him, not just physically, but mentally. The long suppressed part in you is at an all time high, aching for nothing else than him.

“We-We can’t,” you stammer, completely out of breath. “Not here.”

“I do not see why not, niece,” he all but growls. “Do you not want the Seven to witness how I worship you?”

The words make your face grow hot. The thought of the Seven watching over you is taboo and wrong, but it also makes it a lot more exciting. It has been an idea you have long desired, and to hear it spoken out loud from his own lips makes a thrill of excitement course through your veins.

“B-But I-I have never–” your voice is reduced to a whimper, the despair audible.

Daemon paws at your hips, and brings his face closer to press open mouthed kisses to the side of your neck. “I will worship you in a way they have never experienced, I can promise you that,” his husky voice is muffled by your skin, and all you can do is blush in return.

He backs you against the column of the altar behind you, trapping you so he can use both his hands to snake beneath your gown and tear at the linen undergarments you wear, reducing the barrier that stands between him and his most prized possession.

“Uncle, Daemon, please… the sept is not the right place for this.”

“I'll decide where I take you,” he growls once again. It’s the first time your name slips past his lips today, spoken in such a condescending manner that immediately makes you bow to his will. “And if I wanted to take your maidenhead right in front of your father, then so be it.”

You push at his chest, but at the same time melt against his sturdy frame when his lips claim yours. The fabric of his tunic is pinched so tightly between your fingers that your knuckles start to blanch from the force, acting as the means to an end to distract you from the shame you feel at giving into him so easily.

Daemon bows his head forwards to nuzzle his nose along your cheek, his breath hot as he speaks. “You’re such a dutiful woman, always praying for a husband and a life filled with children. Why not pray for me? Would that not be the most honorable of outcomes?”

You can’t think for yourself, swept up by his words, his charms and his possessiveness. He’s brought you to the edge, and you can’t find yourself able to resist.

“Uncle, I–”

“Be quiet,” he cuts you off.

So lost in his overwhelming presence, you hardly register him undoing the laces in the front of his breeches, only just lowering them enough for him to free his hard cock. Once that’s done, he lays you onto the cold floor, and positions himself between your legs, which brings you close enough to his cock to feel it prodding against your cunt.

You can’t breathe, not when you’re basically smothered by his weight, pinning you down to the ground and not allowing you to move. There’s no chance for you to meet his gaze, for he’s far too distracted to keep his eyes locked on one position only.

“You’re a dragon, sweet niece,” he grunts. “That cunt of a Lannister would not know how to handle it… let me take care of you.”

You release a shuddered breath when the tip of his cock meets the resistance of your tightness, forcing your body to go rigid. But despite that, Daemon is able to ease himself inside of you. It takes him a few seconds to fill you to the brim, taking his sweet time to allow you to adjust to each other.

And you sure do.

He pushes inside at an agonizingly slow pace, allowing you to feel every ridge and vein of his cock. When his hips are still, your tight walls slowly accommodate his impressive size. But even then Daemon already knows he can’t keep this up for long, for your cunt is squeezing him so tightly, he is sure he’ll spend himself too quickly for his own liking.

It takes you a moment, but as you feel him twitching, briefly brushing the sensitive spot inside of you, your stiff muscles seem to thaw. You arch your back against him, melting into the warmth that radiates off him.

A quiet whine leaves your lips that prompts him to meet your gaze. “That’s it,” Daemon coos softly, a slight strain in his husky voice. He brings a hand behind your head to support it and make it a bit more comfortable for you, lifting it off the hard ground.

Bowing his head forwards, he captures your lips in a gentle kiss. It is languid, tender even, but doesn’t lack any passion. There’s a burning inside of you, and you feel completely filled to the brim, yet it’s not as uncomfortable as the first few seconds have been.

Perhaps it’s the possibility of being caught by your own kin or other nobles, or being defiled by him so openly, but you can’t seem to get enough. No, you don’t even mind if anyone sees you, not when all you’ve prayed for finally comes true.

“I thought you were a pious maiden,” he rasps, immediately giving in to the pleasure and his urges, “not one that enjoys sin as much as this.”

Though your face is contorted in both pleasure and slight discomfort, you keep your eyes open and locked with his, carefully studying his face. “I–I think the Seven would want me to be happy… would they not?” you don’t state it, you ask, silently needing his reassurance and asking for guidance.

As he notices the hidden meaning behind your words, he flashes you a sly grin, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. “Oh, I believe as much.”

Daemon starts to thrust into you, coaxing one whiny moan after the other from your parted lips. The pace is slow, and you can tell by the way he has his jaw set that it takes a whole lot of restraint for him to keep it that way. You know he’s an experienced man, having heard lots of stories about him and his conquests, and you appreciate him practicing patience with you.

“Fuck, I-... you were made for me,” he groans against the side of your face, merely propped up on his forearms to not put too much weight on you. The feeling of his breath fanning over your skin, and the sounds he makes vibrating against it, ignite a fire in your veins you haven’t felt before.

“You were always meant to be mine, but your father is too dull to see it.” Light kisses trail over your jaw and the side of your neck, meaning he can’t see the color his words bring to your cheeks.

Entangling your fingers in his short, silver strands, you just rest your hand there to keep yourself grounded, until one particular thrust that seems a bit rougher than the others has you eventually tugging on the tresses not-so-gently. The action pulls his head back and exposes his throat to you, and it’s far too enticing to not to lean in and press your lips to the bump in the front of it. Daemon groans at that, and, in response to his cock twitching and throbbing inside of you, your walls clench around him.

You haven’t been touched by a man before, even rarely by yourself, and thus you’re not quite familiar with the pressure that builds inside of your body. It has the grip of your legs around his waist tightening and your toes curling, but other than that you’re not quite sure what to expect.

“Good girl, taking me so well,” he grunts, spurred on by the way your walls squeeze and choke his cock, clearly knowing you’re close to your peak. His praise goes straight to your head, and you whimper in return, stammering a ‘th-thank you, uncle.’

“Wet my cock, little niece, make a mess for me,” he all but commands, a dominant edge to his voice that has you shivering.

Far too lost in the pleasure his body grants you, you hardly notice him driving his hips into yours with more fervor and determination, an approving ‘mhhh’ and stutters of his name escaping your lips.

It probably is a vague guess, but Daemon’s mouth claims yours with newfound hunger as your peak washes over you in an ambush, effectively drinking down every wanton moan and whimper that has threatened to leave them.

Something akin to fire spreads through your veins which prompts your leg to tremble uncontrollably, locking around his waist. Your walls flutter and convulse all over him, and white, hot pleasure clouds your vision.

Only when the tremors slowly subside does your uncle tilt his head back. He watches you in awe, studying the drowsy expression on your face though the pistoning of his hips hasn’t stopped. And he won’t stop, not even when you’re no more than a quivering and whimpering mess beneath him, and you’re very close to turning into one.

He cups your chin, pinning your head to the ground as he increases the pace of his thrusts again, using your relaxed state to chase his own peak.

It feels overwhelming, a different kind of aching suddenly burning between your legs, and you try to squirm away, but his grip on you is as adamant as he’s relentless.

“I shall spill myself inside of you,” he grunts, “would you like that? Do you want my seed in your belly?”

All you can whimper are incoherent words, but are still aware enough to not be too loud. Daemon takes the benefit of the doubt and settles on a whiny yes, far too enticed by the thought of you going round with his child.

He can’t hold himself back any longer with the repercussions of your peak driving him to his own, practically bursting as he spills his seed. His hips falter as he topples over the edge, his twitching member spending itself deep inside of your quivering walls.

But there’s not really any time for you two to dwell in the bliss, not when Daemon gathers himself so quickly to get back on his feet. He fixes his attire, straightening his tunic and redoing the laces of his breeches before he helps you up.

You perturbedly look around, breathing heavily, and smooth out the skirts of your dress. Being unsteady on your feet, you shift your weight from one leg to the other and grimace at the wetness that spreads between your thighs at the lack of smallclothes to gather it. His seed seeps from your swollen cunt down your flushed skin and makes you overly aware of the claim he has asserted over you.

You’re too stunned to speak, your mouth opening and closing without any words leaving your lips. Knowing he was a rogue, you would have never thought of your uncle doing such things, even less of yourself.

“I-I–”

“We will keep this between us,” Daemon interrupts, figuring what’s plaguing your mind.

The act of sin between you two has been so improper, and you’re certain your father would force you to become a Silent Sister if the word of your act would spread around court. So, it’s slightly calming to know you can rely on your uncle to protect your reputation and care for your safety.

You nod and swallow thickly. “I-I hope so?”

The silence between you in the carriage on your way back to the Red Keep is thick with tension, and though Daemon helps you climb down the steps before he leaves to attend his princely duties, something does not sit right with you.

And only when you hear a knock on your chamber’s door around the Hour of the Owl do you figure that the feeling was right. Maester Mellos stands opposite of you, a goblet whose content is unknown in his hand. He hands it over, and you feel your blood run cold at his words.

“A tea, princess. From the king. It will rid you of any unwanted consequences.”

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fushipurro · 5 months ago

Text

The Nature of Depravity

Masterlist

☆ Synopsis: You were an angel, a saint, one of the most profound icons worshipped by mortal kind. There wasn’t a soul in paradise or the fire below that didn’t know your name. It seemed that everywhere you went, you left behind a trail of all things good.

You were one of the best heaven had to offer ─ up until the day you fell from grace and into the hands of a sinner.

☆ Content: 18+ MDNI, AU - fantasy, religious imagery, mentions of blood/violence, implied murder, biting, creampie, scratching, p in v, foreplay, angst, everyone's bad at feelings, true form sukuna, tonguefucking, loss of virginity

☆ Word Count: 10.7k

It wasn’t like one day you woke up and decided to rebel against the heavenly utopia.Rather, it happened like any other day while you were making your rounds to several war-torn villages recently burnt to ash. You sought to aid in the recovery of those lucky to survive, but unbeknownst to you at the time, a group of demons were awaiting your arrival.

With one precise throw, they managed to impale one of your wings with iron weaponry, effectively knocking you from the sky. From there, everything that followed seemed to happen in the blink of an eye, and the next thing you knew, you found yourself here ─ bound in chains, brought before the King of Demons.

Ryomen Sukuna.

Otherwise known as the Fallen, or the Disgraced One, Sukuna was once a proud angel of similar status to your own. It’s unknown how his departure from Heaven came to be. Some claim that he was the bastard child of an unholy couple, while others claim he was never an angel to begin with ─ merely a forked-tongue creature living under the guise of your virtuous ways. At the end of the day, he shed his wings and took over the hellfire realm with unyielding strength.

You stand before him, trapped to an iron pole that burns you to the touch. The metal rod from earlier still marring your wing ─ no doubt broken as it lays flat at your side, oozing with golden, angelic blood.

“What do we have here?” The voice of king stretches across the room, inciting the demons that brought you here to bow in his presence. Something you already have no choice but to do. The intense pain and your lack of energy from the earlier fight affects you greatly now, killing any hope of refusal.

“My lord, we’ve capture this angel we now offer to you.”

“That much is obvious,” Sukuna responds coldly, rolling his eyes. He presses a bored fist to temple. “So what? You’ve come here seeking something from me, haven’t you? Go on, spit it out.”

The demon at your side sputters with nerves before another takes over, “This is no ordinary angel we’ve brought you,” he says, stating your name to the demon king, “We desire your protection, and means for our survival. Our families are poor and struggling to keep those foul humans out of our land.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then the sound of a cruel laughter meant to mock the demons uttering such filth.

“My lord?”

“Quiet,” he commands with no such amusement from moments ago. “If you’re too weak to fight then you deserve to lay down and die. Your kind is meant to be chewed up by the strong.”

“But Sir–“

A flick of his finger, and blood sprays out in all directions, some of its droplets even landing across your face. In the next second, that demon’s head rolls into view. The others behind you gasp in fear, a few even daring to step back only to meet the same demise.

“You’d do well to remember that everything you have belongs to me. Your homes, your land, your lives.” He laughs again. “All of it belongs to your one true king. Now get out of my sight before I change my mind on letting the rest of you live.”

The demons leave in a hurry, and all that remains is both you and the devil.

Sukuna approaches you slowly, like a predator cornering their prey, uncaring that he has to cross a puddle of black demon blood to reach you. With two fingers, he lifts you by your chin, allowing you to drink in the sight of someone who used to be just like you.

Black ink binds to his skin, visible across the expanse of his body from what you can make out. With four arms, and a set of eyes growing from the side of his face, he’s the textbook definition of a demon by human standards. But as an angel, well… you’ve seen more unique creations in the first sphere of your celestial hierarchy. Different doesn’t always have to mean repulsive.

“Such a pathetic sight,” he murmurs, moving your head as though you’re a fruit being examined for its quality. “A broken, pitiful excuse of an angel in my domain.” A grin appears on his face, ripe with his malevolent nature. “How the so-called mighty continue to fall.”

You should bite back. You should be saying something, anything to defend heaven from the one who for whatever reason forsake it, leaving it all behind to become the enemy of virtue. Yet, you’re unable to come up with anything like all your peers would.

Sukuna appears to be studying your expression carefully, finding himself perplexed by your lack of animosity.

“You’re not afraid?” he asks with a hint of curiosity, though his face remains neutral.

“Should I be?” you respond, and without much thought or consideration for the position you’re in. He could do whatever he wants with you, and it would as easy as it is for him to take a life.

He laughs again, letting it echo throughout the throne room.

“Most creatures tremble in fear before me. You even got to see what happens to those who annoy me.” He pauses, revealing sharpened fangs as his grows wide. “And yet, you ask me if you should be afraid. Well, I think the answer is quite obvious, don’t you agree?”

“If it is my fate to die by your hands, then so be it.” As you tell him those words, you feel your strength slipping. The weight of your head sinking deeper into his touch. Even your sight is starting to cloud with black spots.

“Fate? Hah! Don’t make me laugh.” He leans down, mere inches from your face. “You’re just like the rest of your kin, always preaching the gospel of a false king. Your paradise is nothing but a garden of lies.”

You can’t help but wonder from Sukuna’s words what happened to birth such hatred for your shared homeland.

“Being scared would do me no good. In my current state, I pose no threat to you,” you point out. “What reason do I have to fight you?”

He scoffs, “There’s a war going on, and you and I are on opposite sides.”

“That’s never mattered to me.”

He clicks his tongue, swapping the fingers under your jaw with his whole hand. His nails dig into your cheeks, but you can hardly feel it. You can hardly feel anything but coldness.

“I understand if it’s my time; do as you will with me.”

“You speak as if your life holds no value.” He seems to be evaluating you again, tracing his lower set of eyes across your broken wing with scrutiny in his gaze. The other two remain locked with yours. “I wonder if your dear paradise would even allow your return… you may as well be one of the fallen now.”

His words barely register before everything goes black and you succumb to the darkness swelling around your form. You’ve held the hands of many humans on their way into paradise, and many speak of death’s embrace being so warm and inviting.

But all you feel is cold.

So, so cold.

“Sleep well, angel. I’ll be seeing you again soon enough.”

Slowly but surely, everything starts falling back into place. Reality returning to your lifeless form as you awaken from your slumber.

With a tired groan, you open your eyes to an unfamiliar room. Nothing about where you are screams paradise, and in fact, it’s more of the opposite. Currently, you lay atop a large bed, surrounded by red silk sheets and pillows. The room itself is especially decorated with lavish details and portraits bordered with gold, its imagery ranging from acts of debauchery to icons painted with blood. Something about those specific paintings raises an unsettling feeling in the back of your mind.

“You’re awake,” a voice calls from the doorway. The richness of his voice makes it obvious without turning your head that you’re not actually dead, but still within Sukuna’s castle of sin. “How are you feeling?” he asks, though his demeanor remains calm, devoid of any underlying concern or true empathy.

You try and sit up, but quickly fall back from the pain, almost forgetting the trauma you had been through. You only realize now the number of bandages wrapping your body, the majority contorting your wing into a makeshift sling.

“You saved me?” you ask with disbelief in your tone. You thought for sure your time was up, yet your heart still beats, quicker now in Sukuna’s presence. “Why?”

“Yes, I saved you. And as for why…” He crosses his arm, maintaining his cold stare. “Let’s just say I have my reasons.” A subtle smirk appears.

“Whatever the case may be, thank you, for not letting me die.”

“Don’t mistake my kindness for charity,” he says bluntly. “In due time, you’ll be fulfilling your usage to me. That is the only reason you’re still alive.”

You raise an eyebrow at his words. “What use would you have of me?”

That devilish grin makes a reappearance on his face as he strides closer to the bed, towering over you. “You’ll find out soon enough. For now, you need only to focus on your recovery.”

So much for getting any answers or having any chance of leaving.

“Charity or not ─ I still thank you,” you say back to him, smiling all the while despite the fact you’re now akin to a bird confined in a gilded cage. Better than an iron cell, but not the same as the freedom that calls to you. At the end of the day, however, and for whatever reason he has, he still chose to help you.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he chuckles, eyes darkening. “It’s far too early for that.”

Sukuna’s amusement fades as the doors to your room open, revealing a white-haired servant holding a tray of sorts.

“My lord,” they greet, bowing to the King of Demons.

“Good, you’re here, Uraume. See to her recovery now that’s awake. I have work that needs to be done,” he announces, stepping out of the way for the one called Uraume to approach. Sukuna eyes fixate on you again as their servant helps you sit up. “I’ll warn you now, angel. You’re in my domain.” His tone is stern, full of unspoken promise. “If you so much as try to escape, I’ll clip both of your wings and leave you to rot this time around.”

You can’t help but laugh at the irony in his words. “Don’t worry, I think we both know I’m in no condition to leave. Nor do I plan on trying either.”

Despite the humor of it, one look at your wing is enough to question what life will be like for you from now on. There’s a question that when you recover, will you ever be able to fly again? You can’t help but feel off about the dull coloring of your wings now.

All angels radiate a celestial glow across the span of their perfectly white wings ─ like light scattered through a prism in every hair and fiber. That glow is seemingly gone from yours, and you think you spot some gray forming at the base. To be absent of that symbol of your connection, one can only assume it to be a sign of what’s to come.

“See that you don’t,” he remarks, turning away to let Uraume work.

Uraume makes careful work of changing out your bandages. They work quick and with deft fingers, trying their best not to aggravate your wing further. All the while, you face away towards the head of the bed, hiding your now exposed chest with your arms. You feel them pause, tracing a finger down your back. In your mind, you assume it to be one of the many marks left behind from the demons that captured you, and thus, you don’t focus too much on it.

You fail to notice Sukuna’s gaze transfixed on you from the doorway. Although silent, a darkness looms over his features. He exits the room moments later, shutting the door with more force than necessary, making your body jolt.

It’s a while before Uraume finishes, and they leave you with some fresh fruit to dine on. While you’re supposed to be resting, you find it difficult, especially after learning you’ve already been asleep for several days. That knowledge is precisely why you ditch the sheets to walk out onto the veranda connected to your room.

The moon is high in the sky, basking the courtyard garden with its sheer, red-toned light. Down here in the realm of fire, it’s as though the moon forever mirrors the flames conjured up from demons. That, or it reflects the many pools of blood from a millennium of suffering.

“Don’t you look like a broken bird,” Sukuna comments from behind you. For someone of his stature, it’s a wonder you didn’t hear him approaching.

“In a way, I am,” you muse, moving your eyes forward again. “One that flew too far from her nest.”

“Fallen from the nest and into the hands of a monster, how your precious fate seems to curse you.”

“Monster?” You snap your head in his direction with an incredulous look. “I hope you’re not referring to yourself with that comment.”

“You would deny what I am?” His voice is tinged with arrogance as he comes up beside you, not bothering to spare a glance. “I am the King of Demons, the most despised of life’s creation. How am I not a monster?”

“I’m still alive, aren’t I?” you respond, tilting your head. “Whatever the case may be, you chose to let me live, and even saw to the treatment of my injuries. You could’ve kept me in chains, plucking my feathers one by one, but you didn’t. You even have me in a room made for royalty.”

He scoffs, but you don’t let it stop you from continuing.

“Your title aside, I don’t assume anyone to be a monster ─ only a victim of circumstance. Is someone truly born evil, or is evil nurtured?”

Sukuna appears mildly surprised by your speech, giving you his attention. You spot the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lip. “A victim of circumstance, you say?” he repeats with an added air of mockery. “You raise an interesting point, but that doesn’t make you any less of a fool. Tell me, do you believe that because you’re an angel, you’re exempt from the original sin?”

“Not at all,” you answer quickly, and full of conviction. There’s not a drop of fear or hesitation as you openly speak your mind to Sukuna. “All of us ─ angels, demons, humans… we’re all doing what we can with the lives we were given. Angels rise and fall; some sinners beg for forgiveness while others let it define their nature. What’s important to me is how you treat others.”

“By that logic, what of the demons that maimed you? What of me, who has already killed in your presence?” Sukuna refutes. “Most would agree those to be the act of monsters.”

“Does being a demon mean you automatically deserve to be punished for the title you brandish? Does one act define your whole being? The demons who brought me before you sought help and protection ─ for that, I cannot blame them for their actions upon me. What difference is there between heaven and hell if I’m blinded by namesakes instead of looking at all the good and evil that can come from anyone, even of my own kind?”

Sukuna appears almost at a loss of words from your rambling. In truth, he wasn’t expecting such philosophy from someone so high in the celestial hierarchy, but he can see now why the humans would think to praise you as a saint.

“You make it sound so simple… so noble.” He’s looking at you now a deeper gleam in his eyes, intrigued enough to forgive your bold speech to him of all people. Most beings would never get away talking to him like you have after all. “So you would say there’s no difference between you and me after everything you’ve witnessed? How many in heaven would even agree with you?”

“I believe morality is a wild card that’s been muddied one too many times. There’s good and evil in everyone, even the almighty creators that chose to allow lesser beings to suffer in order to achieve growth. I can’t say I know many who would agree with me, but I understand their feelings and I’ll continue to trust in the potential for good.”

“You speak with a passion despite your predicament,” he huffs amusingly. “Still, I must admit, you have a unique way of thinking for an angel that’s uncommonly seen.”

You acknowledge his words with a hum, drifting your eyes to your wings lying flat at your side. “Most likely why heaven doesn’t seem too keen on my return,” you murmur, referencing the missing glow. “In return for saving me, I’ll see if I can be of use to you.” You’ll need a new purpose if you are to fall from grace.

Sukuna chuckles, the sound almost sinister. “An angel, offering her services to a demon. How… poetic.”

Silence takes over as you both admire the red glow of the garden. All that can be heard is running water from the fountain pond, and the occasional splashing of its scaled inhabitants.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You may,” Sukuna responds with one of his lower eyes pointed your way. “Whether or not I’ll answer is a different matter.”

You choose your next words carefully. This back-and-forth debate has been an unexpected treat after the pain you’ve endured to get here.

“You were an angel once too, yes? What happened that led your fall?”

His jaw clenches from the sudden inquiry. “There was a time I too preached the seven virtues; as for how I came to become the monstrosity I am today is a long, dark story.”

After telling you this, Sukuna starts to walk away.

“I see… I hope one day I’ll have the chance to hear it.”

He scoffs, giving you a sidelong stare over his shoulders. “I’ll consider your words, but it’s best now you return to your quarters and rest. Don’t go flying off anywhere.” His twisted laugh echoes from down the halls, and despite the cruelty of it, you can’t help but smile.

Days pass, and while you’d like to say you’ve gotten into a routine, even an angel like yourself isn’t immune to going stir crazy. To be grounded like this for as long as you have now is unnatural, and as your feathers seem to darken each day ─ so do your thoughts on the situation.

Currently, you’re seated out on the veranda again, admiring the servants working from afar to keep the courtyard clean and the shrubbery trimmed to the king’s liking. There’s a feeling that bubbles from within at the sight of those taking to their wings to reach the heights of certain trees, or cleaning along the palace rooftops. A feeling you aren’t sure just what to call as of now.

“Bored, are you?” That familiar tone reappearing. His arrival is the only bearable part of your stay as he forces you out of your own mind.

“I have the gift of life; I could never be bored,” you state, not taking your eyes off the demons that cling to the skies. “I am however… longing, I’d say.”

Sukuna’s eyes find you, moving from your face down to your wing. You’ve gotten to where you can feel his burning stare at times, even when he’s not around. While it may come off as intrusive, you find it a comfort.

“You miss it, don’t you? Being up in the skies, untethered from the earth.” he asks with understanding, but also that same recurring hint of his typical mockery.

“The wind between each feather, the sights you can only see from above…” You can’t help but sigh at what now feels like a distant memory. You’re certain your wing will recover, but whether you can maintain flight is a mystery in itself until the time is right. “Will you tell me now what purpose you have in keeping me around?”

Purpose is something you need right now to stave off the thoughts.

“Impatient, are we?” He holds your gaze silently for a moment before continuing. “I have my reasons, but I’m not ready to divulge them. For now, let me make it clear that you’re too valuable of a prize for me not to keep around.”

“A prize, huh?” You ponder the thought, leaning your body against one of the columns for support. “Am I even worthy if my connection to paradise has been severed?” you mumble on instinct, not intending for him to hear such thoughts you never knew you had.

He does though, and it leads to him furrowing his brows, and averting his stare to elsewhere in his domain.

“Who cares about heaven?” he starts, keeping his voice low and full of what you believe to be spite. You wouldn’t be surprised if he rolled his eyes as well. “Even if they abandoned you, your existence still holds value to me. Fallen or not, you’re a walkingcontradiction that’s piqued my interest. As far as I’m concerned, heaven was holding you back from your true potential.”

Moments like these are why you’ll argue with him for as long as necessary to prove he’s more than what he makes himself out to be.

“Is that so?” You smile. His eyes flicker back to you at the sound of your giggling. “You’re something else, you know that?”

Sukuna finds himself grinning as well. “Am I?” he questions while reaching to your feathers, running his fingers along them with a delicate touch. “And what would that be in your eyes?”

“The best way I can explain it is that you’re simply you ─ Sukuna.” You lean back one hand, gesturing with the other. “You try and present yourself as some monstrous demon that burns everything you touch, but here you are treating me with such care. I don’t doubt your strength, but I believe there’s more to you than meets the eye.”

“You’re a perceptive one, I’ll give you that, angel.” A beat of silence, and the flash of what could be read as vulnerability in his typically guarded demeanor. “But remember, I’m still a demon. My nature is not a kind one, so don’t go forgetting that detail.”

You chuckle, “I won’t, but I stand by my point. It’s my nature to see the good in everything that shares the same life as me.”

“Sounds tiring,” he deadpans, rolling his eyes. He removes his hand from your wing, tucking it back into his robe.

“Tiring? Oh contraire.” You smirk, feeling a spark of confidence ─ and maybe some defiance. “Do you only see the bad in everything? Always assuming the worst of others and thus feel the need to extinguish their life before they have a chance to bear their fangs? That to me seems tiring if you must always need your guard up.”

His face darkens considerably, and you realize too late that you’ve struck a nerve.

“You know nothing of what I’ve been through or why I do the things I do, so don’t pretend that you do,” he spits. The underlying wrath in his tone has your feathers puffing up. “Power is all that keeps me alive and keeps me going in this god-forsaken world. When you’ve been betrayed and hunted like I have, you learn quickly that you can only truly rely on yourself and not to trust others, especially not an angel.”

Guilt pangs in your chest alongside hurt from his choice words. You don’t regret what you said, but you maybe regret the timing of it, or not having considered his feelings before letting it all out. Life isn’t as fair to everyone as it might’ve been for you, but his anger has shown you the likelihood that his lifestyle was something nurtured ─ not the nature of sin one might argue.

He couldn’t have been born evil. It had to have been the acts of others that left him no choice but to become the embodiment of said evil.

And you can’t blame him for it, nor can you turn back time to right all of the wrongs. Fate must have brought you here for a reason, and in time you hope Sukuna realizes he doesn’t have to suffer alone. Even if he never pleads for forgiveness, you’ll show him that life is more than the negatives.

“I apologize if I upset you.” You stand up from your seat, tipping your head. A sudden act of submission even he can’t argue with. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be returning to my quarters now to rest.”

His glare seems to soften, if only a slight change. “…Fine. Go rest,” he quietly sighs, shifting back towards his garden view.

You take your leave, unknowingly leaving behind one of your fallen feathers in your previous spot. Sukuna notices this, lifting it to the moon’s light, watching it filter through the hairs. He kisses his teeth before stalking back to his own quarters across the yard.

You don’t see Sukuna much after that, almost like he’s trying to avoid you. Is he really that upset with you? It begs the question whether he still wants you around, or if his anger outweighs your worth enough to kill you and be done with it.

It’s another night where you find yourself out in the garden, enjoying the semblance of freedom it offers. You no longer have a bandage around your wing ─ which now is half covered in shade coloring ─ and Uraume has instructed you to begin stretching it to work back into a routine of physical therapy.

It can’t hurt to see if you can at least lift yourself off the ground, right?

So, you stand at the center of what appears to be Sukuna’s training grounds, as it offers plenty of space to move. With the moonlight against your back, you stretch out your wings in full, covering a good portion of the area around your body. You feel nervous yet eager to fly, enough to push past the dull pain you feel when you finally begin to lift yourself up off the ground.

Already you’re sweating ─ so out of shape from rest ─ but you don’t want to give up. It’s too soon and knowing now you can be off the ground makes you hopeful that this is the day you can take to the skies again. Only you don’t realize how much strain you’re putting on yourself, and how your unharmed wing must compensate more fiercely.

“Come on…” you strain, flapping harder than before when a sudden jolt of pain pierces through your wing, sending you crashing back into the dirt with a yelp. It only gets worse as your weight ended up landing on your recovering wing.

“You idiot!” Sukuna appears, shouting with alarm as he comes up to your side. His usual calm demeanor having been replaced with both anger and concern. “You’re not fully healed yet, what were you thinking?” he snarls, forcing you to sit up off your crooked wing.

You start to tear up from the pain, feeling a wave of emotions crashing into you all at once. Feelings you never knew existed outside humanity. You let it all out by sobbing into the dirt, and out of sheer frustration, you begin clawing at it too, angrily flapping your wings like a child throwing a tantrum.

Sukuna is surprised by your sudden outburst. The sound of your tears and the flapping of your wings is like a desperate cry for the freedom you once felt. He grabs at your shoulders, commanding you with his voice, “Cut it out, you’re only making it worse.”

“It’s already worse!” you shout back at him, surprising him yet again with this new side of you. “Let’s face it, Sukuna ─ my wing is ruined, I’m falling into ruin, there’s nothing left of me!” Your cracked voice tears through the garden, its serenity now clouded in the anger and hopelessness you feel.

This is the first moment of your life you’ve ever felt suffering like the mortals you’ve guided, and for the reason to be something as selfish as self-loathing… it shows how far you’ve fallen from grace.

“Stop being dramatic,” he growls. “If you don’t give yourself time to heal, then how can say for certain you’ll never fly again?”

You throw yourself into Sukuna’s front, unsure how else to cope with the weight of your emotions. An angel seeking comfort in a demon. You may be free falling into sin, but you have to agree with the poetry of it like Sukuna suggested.

He wasn’t expecting you to suddenly cling to him, but besides the mild annoyance he feels, he doesn’t make any moves to push you away. His awkward embrace is warmer than you would’ve thought, but this is the ruler of flames we’re talking about.

You don’t feel as cold as you have when he arms shield you from the world, and the depths of your mind.

When your tears settle and your breathing mellows, Sukuna lifts you from the ground with ease. He carries you back to your room, placing you gently down onto the edge of your bed. His hand moves with practiced care to your wing, feeling for any discomfort. You wince of course, and he lets a frustrated sigh after a minute of testing.

“I’ll send Uraume in to deal with this,” he tells you, and you notice his tone lacks the usual authority or contempt. He shifts his gaze from your wing to your face, reading for any signs of life in your distant eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“I don’t know,” you reply, and it’s the truth. As an angel, you were designed to only feel emotions such as humility, kindness, patience… but now you don’t know what to label yourself with, or how to get through it. “What’s wrong with me?” you ask, not daring to look up from your knees.

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” One of his hands comes up under your jaw, lifting your chin to meet his crimson gaze. All four eyes staring into yours with the visage of understanding. “You’ve lost your light is all.”

Your light, your home, your paradise.

“I’ve lost everything.”

“You’re still alive, aren’t you?” His thumb traces your skin.

“Is that even worth it anymore? I’m no prize in this state, merely a broken bird like you had claimed.”

He furrows his brows, annoyed that you’re using his words against him as you wave the proverbial white flag with your voice.

“Don’t talk like that,” he snaps ─ harsh, but a necessary evil. “If you had no value, I would’ve killed you long ago. You have the mindset I’ve only seen in one other of your kind, and your knowledge and resilience are quite admirable in my eyes.” He lets go of your chin, stepping away from the bed. As he moves to leave, he stops, and without turning to look at you he says, “In time, you’ll realize how worthy you are.”

You weren’t sure if it could get any worse, but as the days continue to pass, you feel yourself sinking deeper into the abyss that is your psyche.

Uraume has been hovering around more often than not, urging you to stay in bed and rest, but you hate it. You hate this feeling of being powerless, of being empty, of not being able to live as you once had. From the moment you could fly, you were wandering the human realm, helping everyone you came across from the largest of creatures to the smallest of insects.

It’s your nature to help others no matter the cost. What’s not is putting yourself first. But now, everything’s changing ─ faster than you could have ever imagined.

You think this is what humans would refer to as fear, and what an unpleasant feeling it is.

Sukuna comes by every day, sometimes more than once to check in on you, and each time he finds you in the same, curled up position with your face buried in the silk.

He’s had enough of this slothful behavior.

“You need to eat, angel,” he says firmly, tapping his finger loudly on the bed post.

“’m not hungry,” you respond, though your voice is muffled and weak.

He lets out a frustrated sigh, and the force he puts into tapping his finger threatens to crack the wood. “You can’t just ignore your needs forever,” he retorts, “You need to eat, now.”

“Why do you care so much?” You don’t mean for the words to sound as harsh as they do, but luckily Sukuna is a patient man, most of the time.

“I didn’t save you just to watch you die in such a pathetic, mortal way.”

“Haven’t I always appeared pathetic since the day we met?” Bound in chains, bloodied with no celestial shine. Weak, broken, a pitiful excuse of heaven’s most revered angel. Complete, and utterly pathetic.

He kisses his teeth. “You’ve had your moments, but if you weren’t so busy feeling sorry for yourself, then you would see all that you are. All that you can be now.”

You’re silent for a few moments as you ponder his words. His unrestraint in speaking his mind may not always be a virtue, but it’s a comfort you’ve come to welcome all the same.

You turn your head his way and ask, “Was it like this for you when you fell from grace?”

“I wasn’t moping like you are, if that’s what you mean.” He then sighs and takes a seat along the edge of the bed, cautious in avoiding your sprawled out wing ─ which has become increasingly black as the days pass by. “But yes, I too had to overcome human emotion to get where I am now. It won’t last forever, I assure you.”

“You were right before,” you murmur, staring past Sukuna into your view of the garden. “I don’t know all the struggles you’ve had to face, or anyone for that matter. It doesn’t matter if I’ve visited one village or a thousand burnt to ash. Until now, I’ve never truly felt pain like this in my heart.”

Both set of eyes look down at you, but not in the sense that you’re beneath him. His gaze is understanding, regretful even for how he spoke to you before. You’ve stirred up Sukuna’s emotions without realizing, forcing him to come to terms with how he feels.

“What you’ve seen in the past has always been the aftermath of war. Until you’ve faced suffering yourself, you never would understand the pain behind it.” There’s a bitterness lacing his words as he remembers that period of his life prior to becoming king.

The moment that changed the course of his life forever.

“For whatever you’ve been through, I’m so sorry.” Tears rush down the side of your eyes, collecting into the sheets. “I always believed heaven had everyone’s backs, even those who hadn’t redeemed themselves, but I was wrong, so wrong. I’m just as guilty as every other celestial being for turning a blind eye and letting you suffer.”

Sukuna’s demeanor softens up at your apology, and he reaches a sharpened nail out to catch one of your tears. “Your apology is unnecessary… but I appreciate it nonetheless.”

The two of you sit in silence as you let the tears flow freely. The only sound aside from your own being the windchime Uraume had put up along the garden doors one evening. It’s the normal glass bulb shape, but the papery sheet that catches the wind is black, with red-spider lilies painted across. The flower’s coloring continuously reminds you of another with that same hue painted four times over.

Your stomach eventually disrupts the scene, cueing what you both were already aware of.

“Sounds like someone’s hungry; are you going lie again?” he teases, now poking his finger into your back.

“I guess I could try and eat something,” you playfully reply, moving to sit up. You feel discomfort immediately in your head, your vision darkening in turn from how long it’s been since you’ve last had a proper meal.

“Rest,” he orders after noticing your grimace. “I’ll have food brought to you immediately.”

Before he gets too far, you call out to him, “Sukuna?” He turns, giving you his attention. “Thank you,” you tell him, the moonlight hitting your face just as you smile. Its red glow is accentuated by your glossy cheeks, almost like a blush.

“You’re welcome,” he replies gruffly, but with the hint of his own smile hidden buried under his scarf.

From there, the days only get easier. Resting has felt less of a routine, and with Uraume’s help, physical therapy has been going well. There’s plenty of new growth in the form of pinfeathers across your wingspan, and the oldest of such white at the very tips still. It appears your broken wing will forever remain deformed ─ no thanks to the stunt you pulled ─ but you find yourself embracing the change.

The same can be said for many things now in your new life, such as how you’ve come to enjoy the night over day. The moon’s light is a comforting touch, as is the serenity felt in the late hours. You let that light guide your fingers across your wings, preening the darkened feathers to look your best.

Another change you’ve noticed are the appearance of marks stemming from the center of your back. According to Uraume, they were present at the time of your arrival, but since then have grown to wrap around your body in a filigree type pattern. You’re reminded of Sukuna’s own markings as you examine your body, and you’ve begun to question if this is how heaven marks their fallen.

Reaching the feathers closest to that part of your body is a challenge, and one you’re struggling to overcome. Angels typically preen each other’s wings in a show of chastity, and companionship. You’re certain Uraume would help if you ask, but the idea stirs a sense of intimacy now for whatever reason.

“Having trouble there?” Sukuna’s voice cuts through the night from behind you as always, making you jolt in surprise.

“Oh– uhh, yeah, just a bit.”

“It’s not an easy task reaching those feathers on your own, is it?” he muses with a snickering laugh. His footsteps are silent as he comes ever closer to the edge of the veranda.

“It isn’t, but I’m positive there’s feathers there ready to be unfurled.” You have a focused look on your face as you try once more to bend your arms in outrageous ways to try and reach.

“Let me help,” he says, brushing your hands away.

Sukuna doesn’t wait for your response before his fingers deftly land on the center of your back. His touch sparks a shiver down your spine, arching yourself upright. Your wings have never felt this sensitive before and it’s becoming increasingly difficult to keep them steady for him to work.

There’s a sudden influx of emotions you don’t recognize bubbling up, and a heat that pools in the base of your body. At times, it feels like Sukuna is purposely working slow to make your feathers all nice and pretty. His knuckles brush you in a way that hitches your breath.

He hums closely by your ear, “Your wings are quite sensitive here, aren’t they?”

Has his voice always sounded so melodic? So intoxicating? From the way he laughs at your reaction, you can tell he’s enjoying himself. Like he knows what’s going on in your mind.

He does.

You shoot up from your position with sudden urgency. “T-thanks for the help Sukuna, if you’ll excuse, I’ll see you later and I hope you have a wonderful rest of your night!” you stammer out with the hurry of a freefalling eagle, retreating back into your quarters before he has any chance to respond.

Sukuna can’t say he wasn’t caught off guard by this, but at the sight of your reddened face and eyes desperate to avoid his ─ he’ll forgive you.

On the other side of your folding screen door, you fall to your knees in a near pant to catch your breath whatever that was about. Temptation has never looked so good than in the form of Ryomen Sukuna, for all that he is. And while you came so close to the edge of a decadent abyss, you realized something.

You’ve grown fond of Sukuna, and in ways that can only be described with one word.

Sin.

From the window view of his study, Sukuna catches you out of the corner of his eyes stepping out from your room and into the courtyard. He doesn’t think much of it having gotten used to you being at the core of his picturesque view night after night. The moment he realizes you’re heading towards his training yard, however, is the same moment he ditches the scroll he was reading to follow..

He’s aware Uraume has given you the all-clear to attempt flight, but that was but a few hours before now. Truthfully, he should’ve known better. Of course you’re going to start right away.

Leaving his study, he makes haste to catch up, hoping to avoid what happened last time. He stands at the edge of the arena stealthily, watching as you stretch your now fully black wings to their limits. The first few flutters betray the confidence you showed in your steps to this place. He can tell you’re fighting a battle in your mind, but to Sukuna ─ those thoughts are useless.

“Why did you stop?” he asks, closing the distance after watching you deflate to your knees into the dirt.

“What if I get hurt again?” you confirm his inner thoughts with that meek voice. Foolish angel.

“What if you do?” he retorts, blunt as ever. “Are you just going to stay grounded forever because you’re afraid of a little pain? You’ve come this far; it would be a shame to give up now.”

“I don’t want to be on the ground ─ hell, I’ve been waiting for this day for so long and now that it’s here…” Your voice trails off, falling back to the low, despairing tone. “I’m afraid it won’t be the same.”

“It won’t be the same,” he says with an added huff. If anyone is in the position to give tough love, it’s Sukuna. “You will always carry that scar”-he gestures with a pointed claw at your wing-“a reminder of your fall, but that doesn’t mean you can’t fly. You won’t know until you get back up in the air.”

“But if I can’t, then what use could I possibly be?”

Sukuna crosses his upper pair of arms, leaving his lower pair to hang off his waist, one finger tapping away at the fabric at his hip. You’re in despair, and your main concern is whether you’re useful or not?

If you were anyone else, he wouldn’t think twice about making you his next meal. The weak are meant to be chewed up, but why can’t you see the potential you have already? (It’s standing right in front of you after all with a scowl on their face.)

“If wings were the defining point of who you are, then would you claim me to be useless?”

The day Sukuna fell from grace was the same day he tore his own wings from his back, tossing aside the last reminder of that accursed realm to embrace his demonic half in full.

“Of course not!” you refute with the same fire he saw when you argued how he isn’t not a monster. You’re not a lost cause yet if you can still manage that passion.

“Then get up and show me what you’re made of,” he commands. “You’re an angel ─ albeit a fallen one. Not the same broken bird you were before.”

Your eyes flash with realization, and with newfound determination, you’re back on your feet.

“Okay,” you breathe. “I just need to return to my roots.”

“Return to your roots? What exactly do you mean?”

“You said it yourself,” you casually say in passing, walking over to where the courtyard backs up against the edge of a cliff overlooking Sukuna’s domain. “I may be damaged, but I’m still a bird, aren’t I?”

Sukuna’s eyes widen.

“And where exactly are you going with this, dove?”

You can’t possibly be doing what he thinks you’re going to do. He doesn’t want you to get hurt, but he also wants you to see this through. Impressive, angel. A manic grin appears.

“Sometimes all a bird needs is for their parent to push them from the nest. Dive right in, even if you’re too afraid to try.”

You spread your arms out with your wings, backing off the edge and into freefall.

Sukuna’s at the cliff’s edge in a fraction of a second, his heart beating uncharacteristically loud in his chest as he watches you fall. It’s a harrowing sight, even for him, but the relief he feels when you manage to catch the wind between your feathers is unlike the emotions he felt before your arrival. Since that day, it’s like he’s had to fall from grace all over again with you, only that much harder this time around.

His smile doesn’t falter either, morphing from smug arrogance to a proud shine. The way you’ve taken to the skies is like you never left. If Sukuna’s domain is fire, then yours is the air that fans the flames in a mesmerizing dance. With a heavy thrust, you push yourself up ─ higher than his palace and the mountain’s peak before diving back down, returning to Sukuna’s side.

“I did it,” you mumble victoriously, a crazed grin of your own that Sukuna loves to see. “I did it!” you repeat, this time turning that smile towards Sukuna, with eyes brighter than any glow a halo could muster.

“See what happens you don’t give up?”

You lunge forward, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. “Thank you, Sukuna,” you tell him breathlessly.

He finds himself liking this moment better than when you soaked his robes with tears.

“For what?” he asks, placing a hand on the crown of your head.

“For the care, the healing, the late-night conversations… for everything. For saving me.” Your arms tighten almost possessively around him. “You’ve shown me a kindness like no one before, and I am forever in your debt.”

Sukuna brushes his hand from your hair down to your jawline, tilting your head upwards. Something about the way your eyes shine from his doing makes his cold heart feel that much warmer.

“What kind of saint or angel are you to find kindness in a beast like me?” he mutters, lowering his head closer to yours.

“Like you said ─ a fallen angel, but an angel nonetheless.” His face now a mere breath away from yours. “And like I’ve told you ─ I see you only for what you are, demon or not. To me, you’ve always been just Sukuna.”

The moment your lips meet is when the cord connecting you to paradise officially snaps, thrusting you into an unholy matrimony. You feel a burning sensation come along the markings that brandish you, but it doesn’t hurt. Right now, all that runs through your blood is one thing, and one thing only.

Desire.

As your body rises in heat, so does the intensity of your kissing. You’re doing whatever feels right, and most of all good. Sukuna feels this, just as you feel his lips smiling against your own. His tongue dips into your mouth and for the first time in your life, your body lets off a moaning sound.

It drives Sukuna near feral hearing it, and with his lower pair of arms he tugs you close to body, enough to feel his own desire straining for relief. His mind is quickly becoming a mess of both need and longing.

He pulls you down with him to the ground, settling you over his hips with your legs at either side. Those same hands now driven with lust roam your body in tangent with yours that have found their way to his chest, feverishly working to unveil his body. He grows tired of the struggle, and in a split second he severs your robes clean off, and his to follow. Only now do your lips part, leaving a string of drool to keep you connected.

The moon offers the perfect glow needed to highlight your features. He leans back onto his elbows, admiring the rise and fall of your heated chest, the red hue clinging to your feathers, the half-lidded stare revering his own sculpted figure… there’s only one word that comes to mind when he sees your soul laid out before him.

“Beautiful,” he says breathlessly and in full confidence. His upper set of hands trace your sides before coming into contact with your chest. He brushes the padding of his thumbs over each nipple. His other two hands holding you by the hips, pulling you down deeper onto his core. “Oh, so beautiful, my sweet angel.”

You gasp at the feeling of something twitching below you ─ or rather, somethings. The sound makes Sukuna groan again with pleasure, the slit along his stomach opening to reveal a second mouth before your very eyes. To others, this would be enough to incite fear. But for you, it only ignites a fire between your thighs.

“Come here,” he demands, rhetorically it seems as he pulls you right over the freshly parted maw. A thick tongue flicks upward along your sex, frazzling your mind with symphony of whines. He groans again ─ much deeper this time ─ feeling his four eyes roll back into his head. “I knew from the moment I laid eyes on you that you would be the most divine tasting meal I’ve had to date.”

Sukuna finds himself struggling to keep you still as his tongue enters your body. It’s at this moment the veil of your chastity is no more, your purity claimed by the King of Demons.

Your body continues to squirm as his tongue shifts around your velvety walls, your wings continuously twitching and fluttering when it taps your sweet spot.

“So sensitive,” he laughs with that familiar mocking sound, but his eyes show only a carnal need with how pleasantly you respond to his touch.

“Feels s’good,” you mewl, a breathy sigh staggering out. You try to balance yourself with your hands, digging into his shoulders with talon-like grip.

“Yeah?” He continues to toy with your breasts, pulling one into his mouth. The feeling of his teeth grazing your flesh ─ eager to mark ─ has you gasping once more. “I know it does, you needy girl.”

“I need you,” you confess with a depraved stare that’s only heightened by the glow of the bloodied moon. It’s so close to mirroring his own, like your soul has already been claimed by the devil himself. After your purity, that’s the next step in this journey of love.

He chuckles, slithering his tongue back into his mouth. “Let’s see if you can handle me then without breaking.”

You’re confused at first what he means until suddenly you’re lifted into the air, watching as he pulls both cocks from his hakama. You knew they were big, but you had thought it was due to how they stacked over the other. How wrong you were to not expect the nine-foot-tall demon to be as equally blessed below.

“What do you think?” he teases, tilting his head to the side slightly.

“Why don’t you let me show you what I’m made of? I’m tougher than I look, you know.”

“Good girl. That you are,” he praises, helping you align yourself with one of his cocks. “I look forward to seeing you worship me with your body.”

It doesn’t take much for you to sink down onto him in full, your cunt a dripping mess thanks to his saliva and your freshly discovered arousal ─ like an untapped spring now bursting forth. There’s little pain that follows from the stretch, your body instead erupting with pleasure. It’s as though you were made for him. That your purpose in life was always to please him in every way possible. Everything you experienced so far was to bring you to this very moment in time.

“Embrace your instinct,” Sukuna says as he guides your starting motions. “Let it fuel your potential.”

You work with his motions, eyes fluttering shut at the incredible sensation. “I’m so full,” you sigh, and he chuckles.

“You’re doing so well; I knew you had it in you,” he purrs. “Soon enough you’ll be taking both in one hole. Would you like that?” You clench hard around him at that, and he can tell you’re getting ever closer.

“W-w-what is this feeling?” You move your hand downwards with unknown purpose to where his body meets yours, fingers gliding along his upper shaft, down every vein, and even rubbing it against your own clit for more of that wonderous sensation that’s building.

Using his own dick to pleasure yourself? My, how far you’ve fallen into his sinful embrace. The primal need he has for you is exceeding what he thought possible. How perfect you are for him ─ a match made in hell.

“It’s euphoria, my dear. Heaven,” he mutters gruffly, hissing with pleasure. “Let it break you and I promise you’ll feel better than ever before.”

“I need you, ‘Kuna.” Your voice comes out as a pleading whine that hitches his breath. The words a desperate plea for something you’re still learning to embrace.

“Tell me what you want, angel,” he growls, his eyes searing into yours. A set of hands glide upwards, one over your breast, the other at the base of your skull. “Say it,” he commands this time, pointed nails digging into your flesh, pushing even deeper into your body.

“I want you ─ no, I need you, Sukuna,” you declare with such staggering force to match your desire.

“Then you’ll have me. All of me,” he responds in turn, flashing his canines greedily. “So take me, angel. Take me for whatever you need.”

That’s all you need to feel your inhibitions slip away. You lean forward until his back is against the ground, kissing him from his lips down to his neck, feeling an urge like no other to sink your teeth into his flesh ─ to mar him as yours.

“More,” you mumble, moving your hips faster, intent on reaching that cascading high. “More, more, I need all of you, ‘Kuna.”

“You’ll have it all. Everything,” he promises in the form of a whisper, so close to your ear. “As much as you need, as much as you desire. I’ll give you everything the world has to offer if you stay by my side.”

You dig your nails into his body as your own begins to unravel before him. Waves of pleasure crashing down with all its might as you preach his name for all to hear. Tears slip from your eyes as you curl in around him, and he soaks each one up with his tongue as you ride out the high.

“Fuck, you’re so… divine,” you purr a sinful tune. “Nothing ─ not even in paradise ─ has ever made feel this way.”

Forget being an angel. In the state you are now, Sukuna believes you could put a succubus to shame. You feel and look so incredible on top of your new throne. Divine as you put it.

“You feel like heaven yourself,” he claims through ragged breaths. “Everything about you is addicting; you’re a drug I can’t get enough of. Mark my words, I’m going to indulge myself in your soul for all eternity.”

“Take me then. Claim me, ruin me, I don’t care so long as you make me yours.”

Fuck, if you knew the power you have over him.

“You’re already mine,” he hisses, and before you can blink, your positions are swapped. His figure towering over yours. “But incase that wasn’t already obvious, I’ll prove it to you here.”

Sukuna leans his head down, kissing you on the lips. The calm before the storm that’s to come.

“I’m going to claim you and make you completely and utterly mine.” He pulls his hips backwards, leaving only the head of his cock inside you. “…and I’m not going to stop until you’re completely wrecked, completely mine.”

Sukuna thrusts forward, slamming his hips into you. There’s no second to spare, no second to adjust before he does it again and again, forcing you to cry out to the heavens how good he’s making you feel. It serves them right for abandoning you, leaving him to pick up the pieces. It’s the only thing he’ll thank that pathetic realm for, because you truly are one of the most divine creations to have existed alongside himself.

It isn’t enough for you yet it seems, no matter how rough he’s being. Your legs try and wrap around him, but you’re only hindering yourself. So, with two arms, he lifts your legs to your chest, placing his knees at your side. This new position allows him to reach even deeper, fulfilling what he knows you need.

He lowers his forehead to press against yours, sharing the air you command like a goddess those beautiful, encapsulating wings of yours. If you can’t wrap your legs around him, you at least try it with your wings. Like a moth’s cocoon, making this moment in time all your own. So selfish; it’s exactly what he’s wanted to see.

“Who’s making you feel this good?” he asks, his hips refusing to slow. If anything, they’re only getting faster ─ more erratic in nature.

“You are!” you cry out.

“And who do you belong to?”

“You!”

“Say it,” he growls, and you know exactly what he means.

“I’m yours, Sukuna! Only yours!”

“That’s right,” he chuckles darkly, drawing out his words. “You’re mine. Mine to do with as I please, mine to claim and take forever.” His voice is strong, carrying his decree like the word of the gods. “Do you see now the prize that you are to me?”

You nod your head feverishly, scraping your nails along his back. Your wings flutter with frenzy at the incoming high you both are flying so close to reach.

“So. Damn. Divine,” he groans between thrusts, almost threatening to truly break you if he isn’t careful. “You’re going to take every last drop of me, aren’t you?”

“Please, please, please, I want it all,” you plead and whimper, drool spilling out the sides of your mouth. “I want all of you.”

He bites down on your neck before stilling inside you, a rush of warmth hitting you both inside and out. You open your mouth in a silent scream at the force your climax hits you with. Desire overwhelming you from the depths of your being. Near the end, Sukuna slowly rocks his hips into you, fucking his seed back into you before leaning back to admire the view of your stomach painted in white.

As he does, you notice the blood trickling from his mouth is black in color. No longer the same angelic gold it once was.

“I love you, Sukuna,” you confess, making him smile with that all too familiar arrogance you’ve come to love, just like him. “I’ve never wanted anything more in my life until now. I’ve found purpose again with you.”

“I told you that in time your worth would be realized.” He pulls out from your body, casually pushing his seed back inside with hand. His stomach mouth opens, splaying out his second tongue to clean himself off the front of your body. “You have the makings of a queen ─ one who could stand by my side through the end of time.”

When he’s finished cleaning you off, he helps you up onto your knees. You then take to embracing him in your arms, and even your wings just to hold him close to your heart. “I never realized how constricting the heavenly principles were until you set me free. Thank you for showing me how life should be lived.”

Sukuna tightens his four arms around you, feeling that same possessive desire in his chest that goes beyond carnal need. There’s pride in his eyes to know what he’s taken from those bastards above. Nothing compares to you.

“You don’t need to thank me; you were made to be free. True paradise is removing all restraints to live as you please under no guiding order. Strength is power, and you’ve found it at last.”

“This right here is better than any paradise I’ve seen.” Sukuna feels your smile growing against his chest.

“Damn right it is,” he laughs, grinning like the devil he is.

And who would’ve imagined that heaven’s most revered angel, the guiding saint of humanity, would have fallen from grace, and into the hands of the sinner you love more than life itself now.

Fate is a fickle thing, and you know that now.

In the days that followed that night to remember, new changes began sprouting up. Symbols of your life renewed, risen from ash.

For starters, your wings have taken on an iridescent glow ─ like a black devil boa. No one, not even Sukuna has ever heard of such a thing happening to a fallen angel, but it’s become just another feature that makes his proudness of you show.

You’re one of a kind, and entirely his.

Your old room and clothes are no more. Now, you wear only the best money can buy, tailored perfectly to your form. Sukuna’s hoard contains many riches on top of gold, including a stockpile of gems he’s taken to adorning you with. All are reminiscent of his ruby red eyes ─ perfectly fitting with you. He’s a king in every way, always eager to indulge in the pleasures life has to offer.

You trot through the halls of his palace, making way to his throne. You’re eager to be reunited after a morning spent dancing in the skies, your heart tugging you to his side. He’s hosting an audience by the looks of it, but that doesn’t stop all four of his eyes from landing on you as you enter.

“Perfect timing, angel.” He smiles wickedly, displaying his vampiric fangs in full. “Come and take a seat, the show has only just begun now that you’re here.”

At his words, you come bounding up the bone-riddled steps, arriving before him. Sukuna’s hand reaches out, guiding you to rest atop one of his thighs. That hand remains on the small of your back, with another resting on your own inner thigh ─ his thumb rubbing shapes into the plush.

“You remember these demons, I’m sure?” You turn your head and look down, finding the very demons who had brought you here in the first place. They don’t dare meet your eyes as their gaze bores into the marbled floors. “You see, they’ve come demanding a meeting with me. They seem to be hoping I’ll reward them now with something other than their lives for bringing you to me.”

“Is that so?” you muse, ultimately ignoring their presence as your lips meet Sukuna’s with passion, your hands resting on either side of his jaw. “What do you think of that, my king?”

He chuckles, “I think they were foolish to try and demand me to do anything for them.” Sukuna snaps his fingers once, filling the room with an intense warmth. Fire has never looked more beautiful than when it reflects into yours from the depths of his eyes. The weight of his soul, resting between the palms of your hands.

“Wouldn’t you agree, my queen?”

You do, because all that matters now is one thing, your purpose, pleasure, and every depraved feeling in between ─ Sukuna himself.

☆ Notes: got inspired by a sukuna c.ai bot by @ vittovitto with a similiar premise

I like to imagine that as angels who live by the 7 virtues, that when they fall, they go through like an awkward werewolf kinda phase like I’ve detailed where they start to feel each of the 7 sins. Kinda liked a fucked up puberty with all the hormonal changes idk, I thought it was cool when I thought of it.

Overall though, I had a REALLY fun time writing this. I’ve always loved the idea of fallen angel Sukuna but writing about biblical stuff throws me off a bit. Hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did while I force myself to get back into my other five ongoing series!!!

song inspo: heaven's a lie - lacuna coil | parade's lust - granblue fantasy (i'm horny for belial, what can i say)

#jjk #jjk au #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk sukuna #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #sukuna smut

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jeonghantis · 1 year ago

Text

✧ — HEAVEN ANGEL (y.jh)

PAIRING ⇝ yoon jeonghan x reader.

SUMMARY ⇝

beautiful, everyone had called you. the compliment lost its charm on you, knowing fully well it’s paid only for the surface-level appearance you kept up and nothing else you had to offer. irritating, he had called you. you let him fuck you.

TAGS ⇝ uni!au, fratboy!jeonghan, fwb, smut, a dash of angst (oopsy!).

WARNINGS ⇝ language, fem!reader (she/her), houseparty scene (not exactly detailed), gossip, explicit sexual content (MINORS DNI!), bathroom (mirror) sex, unrequited crush (or is it?), reader has commitment issues, reader is kinda mean, mentions of p*ss and sh*t but not in a sexual manner, just for jokes.

WORD COUNT ⇝ 4.1k words.

note: funnily enough, i had two requests specifically for house party sex with yoon jeonghan. i lost the ask for them both (accidentally deleted while my laptop glitched). i am insane. and before anyone asks, yes there'll be a part two/prequel :) and also this is somewhat connected to my upcoming cheol fic. so i hope you stay tuned! proofread by the star of my life @cheolhub. sar fr put up with every version and my constant anxiety over every paragraph. i couldn't have done it without them. i love u so much. @szakias was also helpful in keeping me sane as i wrote this out 🙇 i love u so bad. loosely based on the song heaven angel by the driver era. don't think it'd go with the fic but you know :)

reblogs & comments are very much appreciated.

explicit tags under the cut.

EXPLICIT TAGS ⇝ semi-public setting (bathroom sex while there's a party), unprotected sex, dom/sub dynamics, mean dom!jeonghan, sub!reader, dumbification, teasing, petnames (angel), degradation (whore, bitch), dacryphilia, marking, briefest thigh-fucking, clit stimulation, cumming inside, squirting, light overstimulation, (a little) aftercare.

A strange rumor went around the campus. A rumor of a person whose beauty was so out of this world that it was terrifying.

Unreal. Everyone had said. You won’t be able to look her in the eyes!

But beyond that angelic beauty was a personality so sour, no one dared thought to approach her. Those that tried their luck had it beaten right out of them and they came to hate her to hide their broken hearts.

What a bitch, they had said. Does she think she’s all that?

Yoon Jeonghan, for one, thought they were being overly dramatic. It was a strange and interesting phenomenon how gossip can evolve to add in such theatrics. It was like living in one of those regency novels his sister owned which he had perused over on one particularly boring day. Had these people really had nothing better to do with their lives? Were they trying to live in a novel of their own? Jeonghan never understood them, neither cared for these kinds of things. He’d much rather form his opinions. He had better things to do than to dabble in such frivolity.

What a stuck-up, one would say. What better things could Jeonghan be doing that puts him above everyone else?

Oh, fucking the subject of the rumors of course.

“How irritating,” Jeonghan sighed, abruptly ceasing his thrusts inside you to harshly yank you back by your hair.

You yelp, a deer in the headlights, when your neck is forcibly craned back, made to look up at his looming figure. You looked pathetic from where you were pinned against the wall, exposed breasts pressed flush against the cool tiles and your mini skirt flipped upwards to reveal the swell of your bare ass flattened against his hip bone.

“I said to keep your voice down,” he tuts. “Do you want the whole house to hear you?”

“I’m s-sorry,” you stammer out, throat raw and chest heaving.

“Are you?” He mused with a raised brow, mocking and unbelieving.

You couldn’t meet his gaze, or at least you tried to. Jeonghan liked to make eye contact, he once told you, for he loved to see your sanity visibly ebb away from your eyes, leaving you a mindless, glassy-eyed whore. You had not reached that stage, not yet, not when some semblance of your being remained clear in your gaze, dilated pupils fearfully wavering back and forth between his simpering face and the bathroom door where a rather large, booming frat party laid beyond.

He cocked his head to the side and tightened his grip on your hair, forcing your eyes back on him. He leaned forward until he’s breathing your air, and all you could do is stare up at him pitifully with quivering lips. “Or…” he starts, his lips twisting cruelly. “Do you want them to hear you? Want them hear how good you’re being fucked right now?”

You remain silent, the lump on your throat bobbing as you swallow hard. But your walls tighten around him and Jeonghan couldn’t help the curve of his lips.

“You’re really weird, you know that?” Jeonghan sighed, releasing his hold on you. A lithe finger curls a lock behind your ear, the gesture jarringly affectionate from his prior cruelty, before his mouth moves to hover over it, his warm breath tickling. “You moan loudly when I tell you to shut up. You shut up when I ask you questions. Have I fucked you stupid already? Or have you always been stupid?”

You let out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Is that all you know what to say?” Jeonghan laughs. “A renowned bitch, known to reject her admirers without so much of a second thought, now reduced into this pathetic bitch in heat. What would everyone else think, hm?”

His derogatory spats clamored down to your bones, making you shake with emotions that you couldn’t quite place with your hazed mind. At one point, with the last bit of pride you had left, you’re irritated, and it’s shown in the twitch of your eye and narrowed gaze. Then there’s embarrassment, shown by how your face warms and flushes. There was no denying how fucking dazed and desperate you had been, that much was true, and the demeaning tone of his voice did its job of filling you with shame. The twisted part of it all is that you enjoyed every minute of this ridicule thanks to pure, carnal desire. You couldn’t care less about what other people would say about you, what matters now is when the fuck would Jeonghan move his dick inside you.

But Jeonghan being Jeonghan, he wanted his answers. His last question was rhetoric. You knew. He knew. And yet he looks down at you with cruel expectancy masked in the sweetest, angelic smile that has fooled so many, and had once fooled you.

“I-I don’t care,” you say, deciding to be honest. “Who the fuck cares what they think?”

“Oh, but I’d like to know,” Jeonghan said. He hums for a moment, looking you over in consideration, before speaking again. “But you’re right. They don’t matter right now, do they?”

You release a breath you hadn’t known you were holding.

And Jeonghan watched, amused. He wasn’t done speaking. “But I’d at least like to know what you think.”

You blinked. “What?”

Before you could question him some more, Jeonghan pulls out of you, leaving your weeping cunt fluttering around nothing. You cry out, high and broken, from having pleasure ripped away with such cruelty. Jeonghan ignores it and his own throbbing problem as he goes to peel you off the wall with a rough tug on your arm. He has you by over the sink, has you staring at yourself through the vanity mirror. Jeonghan casts a smile at you through the reflection, his gaze weighted as he drinks in the sight of you as well.

Jeonghan had to admit, the rumors weren’t all baseless. You were stunningly beautiful, there was no denying that when anyone with functioning eyes could see it. The way you carried yourself tells him you’re well aware of it too. You held confidence with a raised chin, an allure with your own posture and stance even in this vulnerable position you were forced in, looking as disheveled as you are with tufts of your hair sticking out in every direction, framing your flushed face. Your blouse had been carefully unbuttoned despite how desperately urgent you both had been for each other the moment the bathroom door shut closed, but the rush was evident in how your bralette had been roughly tugged down enough for your perked breasts to spill over. Jeonghan had been anything but kind to your skin, having left angry red splotches blossoming all over your chest; you weren’t either on his, knowing if Jeonghan had craned his neck enough from behind you, they’d find similar markings on his throat, though considerably less in quantity.

Jeonghan also looked considerably less damning. He had not made moves to remove any of his upper clothing and so he remained presentable with his black varsity over a loose white shirt. Even his long hair had not looked loosened from where it’s tied up. But below, away from the mirror’s sight, his dark jeans had been unbuttoned and unzipped for his curved dick to spring out freely, for it now to rub over your ass teasingly.

“So?” Jeonghan asks. “What do you think of yourself?”

You glare at him through the mirror. “Fucking awful.”

“Of course you’d see it that way,” he laughs, resting his chin on your shoulder. “For me, I think this is the most beautiful you’ve ever been.”

It’s your turn to look unbelieving, but your pulse rouses.

Jeonghan grinned. “Ask me why.”

You reluctantly indulge him, “Why?”

“Because you finally look fucking awful,” Jeonghan said cheerfully. You turn to glower at him but stop when he lifts a hand to trace a line over your chest, mapping out the marks adorning you with a nimble finger. “And because I’m the reason for it.”

“A little vain, don’t you think?” You remark, albeit breathily, your face heated.

“I can be proud of my work,” he quipped, pressing his smile against your skin. He looks you over once more, taking in every detail down to the last freckle, and something deep in him thrums sweetly. “And I had a beautiful canvas to begin with.”

“How charming,” you sighed, derisive, as you threw your head back against his shoulder so you could look at him with batting lashes. “Can you fuck me now?”

“But I mean it,” Jeonghan murmured and relented, reaching around you so he could press a roughened finger over your swollen clit.

“Mean what?” You ask, but you’re barely listening, not when your focus is narrowed to the deft circles he’s making on your sweet nerves.

Jeonghan guides his length between your thighs, letting it glide languidly right under your weeping and throbbing cunt at a lazy pace. His lips are still curled, his eyes bright when he gazes down at you before he’s responding, “You’re absolutely beautiful.”

Sincerity was not something you’re used to when it came to the ever sarcastic Yoon Jeonghan, and yet here it was, bleeding into his tone in its purest form. Never in the entire three months of sleeping with him had he ever complimented the way he had just now, and if he had uttered any, it was quickly followed with ridicule or said with ridicule.

Good, he called you when you were obedient.

Cute, he called you when you were crying.

Beautiful. It was new. From him at least.

It was a temporary moment of clarity in your lust-addled head as you blink at him, making sense of what he had said, making sense of the warmth that starts to bloom throughout your chest. And temporary it remained as Jeonghan led his cockhead right back to your entrance, pushing himself in without so much of a warning, and the bare grasp you had on lucidity loosened.

You gasp out loudly, doubling over the bathroom counter as your walls tense and quiver painfully from the sudden breach, but still yield around him nonetheless. Jeonghan was quick to catch you, to force you right back up with his long fingers encircling your throat.

“Again?” Jeonghan barked out a laugh but it’s hoarse. “You really want everyone to hear you.”

“I c-can’t help it,” you whined, your head resting weakly against his shoulder, warm breath puffing over his marred skin.

Jeonghan looked unimpressed. “Well, help it.”

“Oh, fuck!” you cry out when he starts driving into you with no sense of leniency, your body thrown fully forward and voice shaking from the repeated impact that clatters your bones.

“You’re horrible at this,” he cackled. He grips at your hips this time, pulling you hard against him, balls slapping heavily against your ass. He's practically pulling and pushing your cunt onto his cock as if you weighed nothing, as if you were nothing but a cocksleeve for him to enjoy. Each decadent slide of his length in your heat draws out breathy grunts from him, his head drunk with pleasure.

You weren’t faring any better. Your head is thrown back to reveal flushed skin stained with tears that drip from closed eyes as you try desperately to hold yourself up with palms flat against the cold marble counter. There was nothing else for you to do but feel it, feel his cock stretch your pussy, its silken insides practically making way for him with each piston that has you crying out more in volume and pitch.

“Open your eyes.” His hot, staggered breath wafted over your ear. His thrusts ease its pace, slowing into something more languorous and teasing. “Open your eyes and look at me.”

You whine but your eyelids flutter open. Glassy, unfocused eyes find Jeonghan.

A devious smile splinters across his face.

There you are.

“Please,” you whimper, your hand reaching to paw at his nape.

“What is it, angel?” His tone is sweet but it rolls off his tongue sharply. “I n-need - ”

Jeonghan laughed cruelly. “I don’t think you’re in the position to demand something from me when you can’t even listen to my one demand.”

You grab at the ends of his hair and rock your hips back into him, fucking your cunt right on his dick in a faster, but struggling, rhythm.

“Hannie,” you mewl. “You feel too good. Please, please, just fuck me. I can’t help it, I just - Please? I’ll b-be good. Just please fuck me, Hannie.”

Jeonghan doesn’t respond right away to your pleas, allowing himself to revel in the broken desperation you display with an amused smile and delighted throbs made inside your velvety walls. Perhaps Jeonghan should be used to this sight now. He’s seen you in much messier and miserable states, ruined you far worse than he had now. And yet he’s plenty invigorated than he’s ever been, pure excitement searing his veins.

What would everyone else think, hm?

Jeonghan thought it was rhetoric. Jeonghan said it didn’t matter.

It wasn’t. It did.

“I don’t think you can be good,” he began as a hand inches forward between your legs, “But if you’re going to be loud, then at least use my name. That way, everyone will know who’s fucking you so good.”

“H-Hannie!” You mewl, oh so pitchy, as your frame jerks from the brush of the roughened pads of his fingers on your clit, pleasure flickering up your abdomen so wildly that you could not easily bear through it.

“There we go,” he crooned, pride gleaming in his eyes. Jeonghan was much too familiar with your body by now, so it’s easy when his hips brings back its pace, fucking at your insides at an angle so the length of him glides over your sweet nerves with each impact.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you sob out like a mantra, spreading your legs a little wider to accommodate his brutality, your channel tightening around his throbbing girth. “Ngh, Jeonghan, right there! Oh my god - !”

The nectar that leaks out of you coated his shaft with an amazingly significant amount that makes the slides so much easier and louder, the wet noises bouncing off the four walls and meshing with your own cries of his name like he wanted. It was almost enough to drown out the muffled music of the party that seemed many worlds away now.

Jeonghan soon enough joined in this sinful chorus, letting out panted moans of his own. Some were incoherent but when it wasn’t, it was mostly your name, just in case everyone couldn’t tell who was screaming his name like a wailing prayer. How he’s managed to keep himself restrained and sane for this long was a strong feat in itself. Your everything put him in a trance, every touch of you—nails, fingers, and obviously your tight cunt, was a little too much, it was dizzying.

Even at your seemingly waning state, your hips somehow finds itself moving back against him, undulating with the same force and rhythm. You’re driven by the tightness both in your chest and in your abdomen, white flashing across your vision the more you keep up your pace, your moan becoming more muddled as your thoughts were. And when balance fails you, having you bow back down and lean all your weight on your forearm, Jeonghan inclines with you, his chest pressed right against your back and you could feel his raging heartbeat that very well matched your own.

“How are you holding up, angel?” He chuckled and pressed his face against your neck, his breathing hard and warm on your skin, as his thrusts become more shallow. “Doing okay?”

“I-I’m close,” you whimper. “Please, Hannie - ”

“I’ve got you,” he whispered back as nails dig crescents on your waist, muscles flexing as the intensity of his strokes inside you extends once again and remains at the same tempo. He doesn’t know what came over him the next moment, his senses just completely overtaken and all he could do was be at awe at all this perfect bliss you’re bringing him, and only him. “You’re mine tonight,” he breathed. “I’m going to fucking ruin you for everyone, angel, you understand that? You’re mine.”

There it was again. The clarity. The warmth. It all happened in a single moment.

You turn your head and stare up at him. Jeonghan stared right back at you. A completely indecipherable expression confronts another.

Where it had been temporary then, it intensified now. Where there had been questions, suspicions took its place.

Then came fear.

Jeonghan catches a glimpse of it in your eyes and for the very first time, his stomach sank at the sight of it.

But his facade is flawless. It comes too naturally before he’s fully aware—a sweet curl of lip, the faintest crinkle at the corners of his eyes. He’s fooled too many. He could fool you again.

Jeonghan takes advantage of your moment of daze to toy once again with your clit, and is relieved at how immediate your body reacts.

“Ngh, J-Jeonghan!” You keen high as you reach a hand to cup over to where his fingers flicks and pinches at the delicate bud, pressing down on him for added pressure to alleviate your own self. Oh, how embarrassingly easy it was for your thoughts to be completely overwritten by your own lustful desires, but as you have learned, it always prevails, doesn’t it?

Your thighs seize up from the overwhelming pleasure crawling up your spine; while your rhythm falters from it, Jeonghan’s is relentless even when his own breathing turned ragged and his body strained from the effort. It all becomes so much so fast; the feverish heat spreads under your skin, tightening up coils in your abdomen, but your frame is trembling, as if a chill settled so deeply into your bones.

“Hannie, Hannie, I’m going to -”

“I know,” Jeonghan grunts as his face falls in the juncture of your neck, lips pressed right over your pulse point. He can feel your walls start to restrict around his twitching girth, and it did little to aid his own self-control. “Let go for me, angel. C’mon. Let me hear you. Let them hear you.”

And you do. With the most shrilling wail, you come, your warm release spilling onto his cock and, much to your surprise, squirting onto themselves, their clothes, and his hand.

“Holy shit,” Jeonghan marveled under his breath. If he could burn a memory into his brain, this would be fucking it. Just you shivering and quivering around his dick. Your back prettily arched back with tits hardened and perked. The fluids spurting all over yourself and him so shamelessly and so intensely until you're convulsing back down on your front from it all.

Watching this whole brilliance of you, just reminded Jeonghan of how lucky he truly was to have you like this, to be able to make you this fucked out with crossed eyes, pupils blown wide out of proportion. Hidden concerns were washed away by this single glance, replaced with nothing but gratitude, pride, and true bliss. And with all that and a poorly thrown out warning, he’s thrown over the edge. A moan is punched out of his gut as he’s releasing inside you with one last valiant thrust, his cum white and hot as it spurts and paints your walls.

And poor you having to tolerate this continued abuse of your insides that pushes you close into the sphere of overstimulation. You’re spent, fatigue already ebbing into your consciousness, but you stay still for him, letting him use you for all your worth until the last few twitches of cock, until the last few spews of his cum is fucked back into you.

For the next few moments, only a dulled bass fills the air as two heaving bodies try to steady themselves. When the remnants of carnality wane, Jeonghan finally pulls out of you, your channel left with nothing but their shared release dripping out of you, beading down your legs. There’s a crack of a smile thrown your way through the reflection just as you feel a light tap made over your cunt. You resist the urge to roll your eyes at the gesture. And to rock back into it.

“If I clean you up,” Jeonghan began, eyeing the puddle on the floor, “could you help me with the rest of your mess?”

Now you did roll your eyes. “Ever the gentleman.”

“Hey, I just thought I should ask. It’s a lot.”

Your face warmed up. “Forget it, I’ll clean myself up. You clean the floor.” You move to lift yourself up from the counter, but catch yourself as your muscles start to strain, limbs shaking.

Jeonghan raised a brow.

You winced. “Can you help me over to the toilet?”

“Need to piss it all out again?” He jests and takes a hold of your arm to gently pick you up.

You sneered. “That wasn’t piss, asshat.”

Jeonghan laughed. “I know it wasn’t. But it was hot as hell.”

“Shut the hell up.”

That only made him laugh again.

Then came a knock, a very aggressive one.

“Yoon Jeonghan, are you done fucking in there?” Said a male voice beyond the door, sounding just as irritated as his knock was.

“Ah, damn,” Jeonghan muttered quietly to himself, then raised his voice at the door, “There are other bathrooms, Cheol!”

Choi Seungcheol, you now recognized Jeonghan’s fellow frat brother, responded right away. “All occupied! Can you hurry your shit up?”

“No!” said Jeonghan, but he’s quick to guide you over next to the toilet with an arm now encircling your waist; you tell yourself this was just a helpful gesture, but there’s no helping how your skin heats up under his touch. From where you stand leaning against the wall, you watch him rush around the bathroom, first cleaning himself up and shoving his dick back in his jeans before he throws a clean towel down on the floor to soak up your mess.

“I’ll leave first,” Jeonghan explained as he sauntered back to you with soap and another fresh towel in hand, setting them down where it’s within your reach. “I’ll appease Cheol first and buy you some time to clean up.”

“Is he always so impatient?” You asked.

“Always,” he sighed, “but once I explain, he’ll understand. I don’t know why he’s fussier than usual though.”

“Maybe he needs to shit.”

“Shitting at a party? That’s disgusting of him.”

“He has no respect for the partygoers out there.”

You exchange grins with each other.

Then another round of knocking came around.

“In a minute!” Jeonghan called back, trying to sound calm but his face was scowling. He lowers his voice when he speaks to you again, “Are you sure you don’t want any help? Now I just want to make him wait.”

“Go,” you tell him and wave him off. “He sounds like he’s about to kick the door open. I’d rather not have that.”

Jeonghan huffed a laugh at that. “I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Jeonghan turned to leave. Your heart lurched from your chest.

“Jeonghan?” You call out before you could stop yourself.

He looked back. “Hm?”

“Do we…” You didn’t know what to say, how to phrase it. “Should we talk about it?”

It was miniscule, but you caught his wince. “Talk about what?”

“About what you said?”

“Angel, I said a lot of things.”

“Don’t play stupid with me. You said - ”

Another loud knock, quickly followed by Seungcheol yelling. “Jeonghan! Hurry up!”

Jeonghan let out another sigh, a mix of annoyance with a tinge of relief. “We’ll have to talk about it another time.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Jeonghan - ”

“We will talk about it,” he said firmly, his tone spoke of sincerity, but his face said otherwise. “Just not now. Not yet.”

You gave him a skeptical look.

He tried for a smile, perfectly saccharine. You saw right through it.

“Fine,” you relented.

Jeonghan gave you a grateful nod of his head and made a move to leave again. You watch again with the strangest restriction in your chest.

“Cheol, you have got to learn patience,” Jeonghan said once he cracked the door open.

“And you have got to learn to be quiet,” the disembodied voice of Seungcheol parried back. “I’m sure the people passing the hallway could hear you both.”

“Well, we were trying to get the whole house to hear us.” Jeonghan spared a quick glance your way and grinned. You wanted to punch his teeth in.

Seungcheol groaned. “Of course you fucking were.”

Jeonghan laughed and finally stepped out of the bathroom. “At least I’m getting my dick wet. You haven’t been with anyone since - Oh, I spoke too soon. Cheol, you sneaky son of a - ”

The door shut closed behind him, leaving you all alone, and you buried your face in your hands.

#seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #jeonghan smut #yoon jeonghan smut #jeonghan fanfic #keir.rqst

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p0orbaby · 8 months ago

Text

How The Other Half Live

summary: a trip and some news

warnings: a smidge o’ angst i’m afraid

a/n: the upper class is back by unpopular demand

word count: 1.3k

“A private jet?”

“That’s right”

“Just the two of us?”

“And the staff, of course. But essentially, yes, just us. Is that okay? I assumed you’ve been on a private jet before?”

“Yeah, I have. But with the team. Never for, you know, leisure.”

“Well, consider this like that, just without the team. And solely for leisure”

“Right. Yeah, practically the same thing,” Leah teases and you roll your eyes before grabbing her hand and leading her across the tarmac.

As you step onto the plush interior of the aircraft, Leah’s eyes widen in amazement at the luxury surrounding her. The soft leather seats, polished wood accents, and subtle lighting creating an atmosphere of elegance and comfort that she could only dream of experiencing.

“This is incredible,” Leah murmurs, her voice filled with awe as she takes it all in. “I can’t believe you own this. Mental”

You smile at her wonderment, feeling a sense of pride at being able to provide her with such an experience. “I’m glad you like it,” you reply, guiding her towards the seating area. “I thought it’d be good to dust her off. Have her take us on a little getaway”

Leah’s eyes sparkle with excitement as she settles into the seat beside you. “Thank you,” she says, then kisses the corner of your mouth. “It’s been ages since we had some time to ourselves”

As you make yourselves comfortable, a member of the cabin crew approaches with a bottle of champagne and two glasses. “Would you care for some champagne to start your journey?” she asks with a smile.

You exchange a glance with Leah before nodding in agreement. “That sounds perfect, thank you Julia,” you reply graciously as she pours each of you a glass.

Leah takes a sip of her champagne, savoring the crisp taste as she gazes out of the window at the runway below. “So, are you going to actually tell me where we’re going?” she asks. “Or am I supposed to guess based on what body of water I think we’re flying over?”

You lean back in your seat, adopting an air of casual indifference. “Have you ever been to Santorini?” you ask casually as you take a sip from your own glass.

Leah’s eyes widen in surprise. “Santorini?” she repeats, her voice tinged with disbelief. “Are you serious?”

You shrug nonchalantly, feigning innocence. “Just asking,” you reply with a smirk. “But I suppose I’ll keep that in mind for next time”

“Y/N!,” she says as she kicks you under the table.

“Okay!” You submit, unable to contain your excitement any longer you never were good with surprises. “I thought we could get lost in the Amalfi Coast for a few days,” you explain. “Relax by the beach, explore the coastal towns, eat our body weight in pasta. The basics”

Leah’s eyes light up at the mention of Italy, her mind already racing with visions of sun-drenched days and romantic evenings.

“I’m hoping you being uncharacteristically silent means I’ve done good?”

“I love pasta, so much”

Your heart melts at her innocence. You can’t wait to show her the world. “Come here”

She turns her head to look at you. “I’m right here”

But all you do is pat your thigh, a simple instruction she doesn’t question, before she clambers over the armrest and settles comfortably in your lap.

“Hey” you whisper, your voice quiet as you lean in to brush your lips against hers.

Leah smiles against your kiss, her eyes fluttering closed in contentment. “Hey back”

You cup her cheek, your thumb brushing against her skin tenderly. “I love you,” you say softly, your heart overflowing with emotion.

Leah’s gaze meets yours, her eyes shining with affection. “I love you too”

In that moment, as you sit together in the quiet embrace of the airplane cabin, surrounded by nothing but love and warmth, you know that you have found your home in each other’s arms. And as you hold Leah close, you silently vow to cherish every moment, every kiss, and every whispered ‘I love you’ for eternity.

The gentle hum of the plane’s engines fills the air, lulling you both into a peaceful trance as you bask in each other’s presence. But amidst the tranquility, there’s something weighing on your mind, something you’ve been wanting to share with Leah for a while now.

Taking a deep breath, you gather your courage and speak up. “Leah, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” you say, your voice soft but steady.

Leah looks up at you, her curiosity piqued. “What is it?” she asks, her voice filled with warmth.

“I’ve got to go away. My family has a charity in Africa that requires our attention. Well, my attention”

Leah’s smile fades slightly as she processes your words. “Africa?” she repeats, her voice tinged with surprise. “How long will you be gone?”

You swallow hard, feeling a pang of guilt for not discussing this with her sooner. “About a month,” you admit, your voice heavy with regret. “Maybe less if the schedule allows”

Leah’s brows furrow in concern, her eyes searching yours for reassurance. “A month,” she echoes, her voice barely above a whisper. “That’s quite a long time”

You nod, a knot forming in your stomach at the thought of being away from her for so long. “I know it’s not ideal. But it’s made me realise something”

Leah looks away and you know it’s because she doesn’t want you to see her cry.

“Hey, look at me. Please Leah”

She does and her eyes are frosted with tears.

“You know how much you mean to me, right?” you begin, your heart pounding in your chest. “And how much I love having you around, sharing all these moments together?”

Leah nods despite the wobble of her chin.

“Well I’ve been thinking a lot about our future lately,” you continue, your voice tinged with vulnerability.

Her eyes find yours. A flicker of uncertainty crossing her features.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for her reaction. “And I know we’ve both been hesitant to bring it up before, but I can’t imagine my life without you in it,” you confess, your voice filled with sincerity. “Leah, I want us to take the next step and move in together”

Leah’s breath catches in her throat, her eyes searching yours for reassurance. “Move in together?” she repeats, her voice raw.

You nod, reaching out to gently wipe away tray tears. “I know it’s a big step,” you say softly, your heart pounding in your chest. “But I truly believe that we’re ready for it. We already spend so much time together, and I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather come home to every day”

“Y/N,” she whispers, her voice choked with emotion. “I… I don’t know what to say”

You pull her into you, holding her close as you brush away her tears. “You don’t have to say anything right now,” you say softly, your voice filled with love. “Just know that I love you, and I’m here, no matter what”

“I thought you were breaking up with me” she whispers into the cotton of your shirt.

Your heart clenches at her words, the pain evident in her voice breaking through your own turmoil. Carefully, you lift her chin, meeting her gaze with tender reassurance.

“Leah,” you murmur, “I could never. You mean everything to me. I’m sorry if I scared you”

“A month” she repeats again. It’s as if she can’t believe it. You understand.

“Yes, a month,” you confirm, your voice soft and soothing. “But I’ll be back before you even realise I’m gone, baby. I promise”

Leah’s eyes search yours, uncertainty flickering in their depths. “I won’t. It’ll feel like forever,” she confesses, her voice barely above a whisper.

You lean in, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. “Perhaps you’re right, love,” you murmur, your lips lingering against her skin. “But that’s why this trip will be so special. Just me, you and our body weight in pasta, remember?”

“And the staff” she adds, finally showing you that smirk you love to see. The smile that has you falling in love all over again.

You chuckle softly, relieved to see a hint of her usual humor shining through. “And the staff”

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #awfc #awfc x reader #engwnt #engwnt x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine

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rimunagenius · 8 months ago

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And They Were Roomates

☙ pairing: Kate Martin x Roommate!reader

☙ word count: 2.5k words

☙ warnings: RPF!! use of y/n, not proof read.

☙ ri speaks: I need more kate martin content and i haven’t been fed the specific ones that i need so i must write them to the best of my horrendous abilities. Idek how good this will be…im sorry in advance LMFAO. also this is two thousand five hundred words but it looks a lot shorter….crying

this is also a general announcement that i will indeed be refreshing my blog, so that means new and updated master lists and posts are coming out soon so sorry if you get a spam of rimunagenius on your feed!!

Part 1

| Series Masterlist |

When you first started in Iowa, you never expected the immediate love you recieved from the people there. They were friendly, generous, and so much different from people in California. Especially your roommate, Kate Martin. You had met her shortly after your first day of Junior year. A while after, you two became roomates because you needed more space, and she needed someone to split rent with in her apartment. Sounded like a great deal to both of you.

"You don't mind?" You asked unsure. Not wanting to impose on her, possibly ruining plans with making a deal with her actual teammates.

"No! Not at all! I really like you and you're alot of fun! I'd love for you to move in with me." She beamed at you, giving you a side hug when she saw your expression change. You both were ecstatic.

Since then, you had been living with Kate for almost two years. You two had become inseparable. Always on campus together, meeting up between classes to get coffee or lunch together, sometimes with Caitlin and your other friends. It was great. You were happy with your home away from home.

You had transfered from UC Irvine and decided to pursue your degree and career in sports medicine here in Iowa City. You were one of the new athletic trainees and ocassionly a photographer; your previous major was in photography and Lisa and the administration had really loved your resume and work, so they hired you as a part time (barely) photographer, for whenever they wanted more shots than what they usually wanted or a fill in.

Currently, you were needed in the Carver stadium to help record a mic’d up practice session for the team. It was for the Iowa Hawkeye Youtube channel. You had experience because you too had a youtube channel that you started when you first transferred to Iowa. So you had told Lisa and the coaches that you’d be able to film it.

“Hey, Gabbie!” You smiled at her as you walked into the locker room, approaching Kate’s cubby to set your stuff down. Kate telling you this morning before she left that you could put your stuff with hers.

“Hey, girlie! So guess what?” You and Gabbie loved to gossip. It was so much fun and it started when you were redoing the tape on her ankles, and she looked down so you asked her about it, and since then, you both have told eachother whatever gossip you had.

“Oh my god, what?” You took your sweater out of your bag, the locker room being chilly, so you could imagine the court.

“So that boy Nick in my econ class, totally asked about you today. I didn’t want to crush his hopes and dreams but I did say you weren’t his type.” She took a seat next to where you were standing to put her shoes on.

“Wait, the boy I said would so be my type if he was a girl? That Nick?” You laughed because he was really nice and such a sweet guy but he just wasn’t a girl. Men are pretty but only to look at.

“Yes!”

“How’d he take it?” This guy has asked you out once before but you just said you weren’t looking to date. Probably should’ve elaborated on that one.

“But he asked me “Oh, who is? Does he go here?” And I was like,” she paused to reenact the face she made. “I said it too fast so I didn’t have time to say “Oh, It’s long distance or something” sooo I don’t know.” She rambled and just pulled her hair into a small ponytail.

“What do you mean? That made no sense, Gab.” You were confused. She looked guilty of something but you didn’t want to pressure her but you also really wanted to know what she had said about you to Nick.

“I kinda sorta said you had a girlfriend already, and he took that as ‘Oh, she’s dating her roommate Kate Martin’ because he said he supposedly sees you guys together everywhere.” She meant well. It really wasn’t her fault that Nick totally misread the situation.

“Oh shit.” Your jaw dropped. You thought it was awkward but now it went full fledged horrendous. You were already out, and anyone who followed your insta would’ve saw it in your stories, so you weren’t worried about that but you were worried for Kate.

“So what do we do about the fact that a random kid on campus thinks your dating Kate?”

“Ok wait, i’m actually scared. Like how do you think Kate will take it?” You were talking to Gabbie and immediately knew you fucked up by seeing the expression on her face.

“How will I take what?” Kate walked in, hair down, dressed in her practice uniform, and sat on the chair next to you. You hadn’t realized that you sat down with Gabbie. Lost in the conversation and frenzy of the new mess that could possibly affect yours and Kate’s social life dramatically.

“I’m just gonna…” Gabbie got up, and walked out, meeting the others outside on the court.

“Oh, okay. I’ll see you in a minute.” You said to the girl before turning to Kate. You had caught her up on the lore behind you and Nick, if you could even call this one sided infatuation lore. Now you just had to tell her the problem. “So Gabbie tried to tell him that I was already seeing some girl. But Nick jumped to this whole conclusion that me and you were together.”

You watched her face. Looking for any sort of negative reaction. Waiting for her to blow up on you. “Oh.”

“And when Gabbie tried to say it wasn’t you and that were just friends, and that my supposed girlfriend lives in California, he got up and left. So it may be possible that the whole Iowa college campus will assume we’re together.” You played with your fingers as you watched her some more. Still waiting for her explosion.

“I mean, I don’t mind. He sounded weird so if it keeps the guy away from you, i’m okay with being the ‘pretend’ girlfriend.” She shrugged her shoulders. Grabbing her shoes from behind you, your chair sitting right infront of the cubby that belonged to her:

“Kate. Are you sure? This is so random and so strange and I would totally get it if your uncomfortable.” You wanted it to be clear that this situation could go away if she was uncomfortable. If she was uncomfortable you’d go on a date with him and just tell him it won’t work after. It’d be bad for you if he goes around saying rude things but you couldn’t care less about people you don’t know. You just wanted to make sure Kate wasn’t the one feeling weird.

“Yeah, I mean—I don’t have to kiss you in public, right? I feel like that’s overstepping a boundary we have not thought about setting.”

“No, Kate. You do not have to kiss me in public. Wait so you’d kiss me in private?” You looked at the girl, now fully joking around as you wiggled your eyebrows and laughed.

“Oh yeah for sure.” Kate made a funny face while nodding her head before grabbing her water and standing up. You following behind to get this practice and video recording started.

“Oh, and your getting mic’d up today. I don’t know if Coach Lisa told you.” You say as you both walk onto the court.

You and Kate had showered, separately unfortunately, and sat on the couch. You had been trying to convince her the whole way home from practice to watch New Girl. She agreed after ten excruciating minutes of your nagging.

You were deciding to pick the snack you wanted, grabbing M&Ms you bought at the store yesterday, snickers, chips, and popcorn. You wanted to watch as many episodes as possible because you both started school late tomorrow and it was an off day for practice.

“What are these practices anyways? Are they like preseason workouts to get back in shape or?” You watched Kate as she picked her snacks.

“Yeah. Basically. We’re technically only allowed to goof off a little during those ones.” Kate laughed, referring to the mic’d up practice today. Coach Lisa usually wants a more focused and intimate space during the actual season. “Oh my. What if we just kill this whole tub of Neapolitan ice cream?” Kate took it out of the freezer and suddenly all your snack choices went back to the cabinets.

“Ou deal, Martin.” You grabbed two spoons before making your way to the couch. Grabbing the blanket off the backrest, and throwing it over you both. You both settled and got comfy ready to start the marathon of New Girl.

You were both sitting in silence after you decided to just do a highlight reel of episodes since you weren’t going to force Kate to watch multiple seasons. "Are you excited for this upcoming season? Your last season?" You asked as you looked to your right. Kate was seated next to you while you both decided to disregard bowls and just eat the ice cream straight from the tub. She held the tub as you both dug what you wanted out of it. She shoved more ice cream into her mouth and she smiled and nodded her head.

"I am. Just scared and sad." She said somewhat incoherently due to not having swallowed the mouthful of ice cream. You nodded your head. You had already adapted to the Kate language. When she talked while yawning, mouth full, her body language, and her facial expressions. Not many people were fluent like you, and you were actually proud to be one of the people. So you understood exactly what she meant. You saw everything else she was feeling just by the look in her eye and the shape of her lips.

But you also felt sad for her too. You’d both be a sixth-year, grad students, in a couple months. This year bigger for her more than you. This year being her last and final run in her collegiate career. This was huge. You both knew this but wanted to focus on the nicer aspects. You and the girls would support her and be her friend even if she decided to never touched a basketball again. You guys were for life.You didn’t play, so you felt there was nothing you thought you could say other than just being her friend.

"You'll be okay, sweetheart." You wrapped your arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. A small comforting hug, atleast a hug at which this position provided, and kissed the top of her head. You only used terms of endearment like this in small, comforting, intimate moments. You felt this was the right time. "I'll be here for you, and you have the girls. We’ll back you in whatever you do, outside of basketball and school. You can’t ever get rid of us if you tried. But I will give you all the support and all the ice cream you can eat right now." You smiled at the blonde. You both stared at eachother, a little too long, “We are not beating the supposed ‘girlfriend’ allegations right now, Martin.” She bursted out laughing. You not far behind.

"But seriously, thanks shortie." She said as she patted your knee, right before she lost it again and laughed out loud. You immediatey cringed at the name, and pushed her away from you.

"OH! my god! Immediately no, Kate." You laughed again, half embarassment and half amusement. "That is not funny. You sound like a frat boy." That earned another snort laugh from Kate.

"You're right. I'm sorry." You side-eyed her. Pulling the blanket a little closer to you. Scooting over the tiniest bit over to feign anger and hurt. Still managing to catch her movement through your peripheral.

"Bro, I'm not even that much shorter than you. Just short three inches." You rolled your eyes at your best friend, turning back to the episode where Jess and Nick kiss eachother for the first time. Your favorite episode.

"Yes, I know. I know how you feel about my short jokes. I almost cried when you ignored me for three and a half days." Kate chuckled as she looked to you her smile dropping, a frown forming when you still didn't acknowledge her. "Oh, come on, y/n. Don't ignore me again, please! I was kidding." She asked you while chuckling nervously, she asked you two more times, when that didn’t work she insisted on poking you for a two minutes straight.

"Okay, Kate. I forgive you. Now shush, my favorite part is coming up." You kept your eyes on the screen and tried to reach for your spoon in the tub. Your fingers reaching everywhere but your spoon. "Kate can you help me please?"

"Yes, but haven't you already seen this show like eight-billion times?" She grabbed a spoon, whichever one was closest, forgetting which one was which, and scooping a good spoonful, before bringing the spoon to your mouth. "Open." You opened your mouth and took the ice cream happily.

"Thank you, you big teddy bear. God's gift, I'm telling you." You said as you watched the best scene on sitcom TV about to unfold.

"Im just going to pretend you're talking about me and not your show." Kate whispered. "You're welcome, pretty." She said louder so you could hear.

That got your attention. It wasn’t something that you hadn’t heard come out of her mouth and directed to you before; she's called you pretty multiple times when you had asked if the outfit you were wearing out looked good or if the makeup you put on was good for this dinner a girl you were seeing on and off wanted to take you out to. But she's never once used it in this context. You got a nervous feeling in your stomach, something you recognized as butterflies for sure. Fighting the urge to smile at the compliment, a small blush creeping up on your cheeks. Fighting the thoughts you had about her.

It was something new but this one thing…this you weren't going to get used to. You guys were best friends and just roomates. You can't feel anyway about this.You decided to ignore it and take it as a compliment in the moment to make up for the short joke. It definitely wasn’t something serious as you were making.

"I was talking about both of you. The TV and you, Kit-Kate." You put your arm around her shoulder and continued to watch the show. Watching the scene you had been waiting for all night to play. “This was the best cinematic experience I have ever had.” You whispered, now reaching for the spoon again for some ice cream.

Kate beating you to it, already having got another spoonful for you, feeding it to you like she did a couple of seconds ago. You smiled and thanked her before you both decided to cut the show, and search for a movie of both your choosing this time.

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act-nat-ural · 20 days ago

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Misunderstandings

@dira333: what about a meet ugly with Daichi or Kita? A meet ugly is about meeting someone in a less than fortunate way but somehow you still fall in love?

You had just finished a long, exhausting work week and wanted to treat yourself to something nice. Hence, a slightly fancy dinner alone. You let out a content sigh, sipping your drink. The ambience of the restaurant was impeccable, the lighting was soft enough for patrons to relax, and the music blended into the soft chatter in the background. You were still waiting for your meal, but the breadsticks in this place made for a good distraction. You hum and break off another piece. Don't mind if I do.

Suddenly, an athletic-looking man sits down across from you. He gives you an apologetic look and says, “I’m so sorry I’m late. Work ran a bit long, and I got here as fast as I could. The hostess said you weren’t waiting long, though.” He continues explaining his tardiness, but—who the hell is this guy!? Your eyes widen at his sudden appearance, almost choking on your precious bite of breadstick. You cover your mouth and start coughing, while he looks a bit flustered.

“Are you okay? I didn’t mean to startle you.”

You shake your head and gesture that you're fine. You catch your breath and finally take a good look at him, and you quite like what you see. He has dark, short hair that suits his face nicely. His shoulders are quite broad, and you can tell he has some muscle on him. More importantly, he has warm, brown eyes that seem to stare right through you.

You take a deep breath and finally say, “I’m sorry, but who—” when a very angry-looking woman storms over. Just when you thought your eyes couldn't get any wider.

“Who the hell do you think you are?! Flirting with someone else, standing me up on our date? I can't believe you, Daichi! Koushi said you were a total catch! Ugh!”

You break your gaze away from the fired-up woman and steal a glance at who you guess is Daichi, and see his jaw is practically on the floor. He sputters and is stuck between looking at you and her, before she stomps her way out of the restaurant.

You two are silent for a moment, registering the chaos that just erupted at your table. Out of the corner of your eye, you can spot several groups of fellow diners whispering about what just happened, and you honestly wish you could disappear.

You sigh and meet his eyes. “Daichi, right?” He nods grimly. “I’m almost certain you can tell by now I wasn’t your date. I was going to tell you but I was pretty confused and couldn't find a good time to, and then, well…” You grimace at the thought of getting yelled at by his date.

“I am so sorry.” He lets out a deep sigh and runs a hand through his hair. “To be honest, I don’t do this kind of thing- dating, I mean. My friend said he’d found a good match, and the way he described her, well I thought- I thought it was you.” He lets out a nervous cough.

You blink and think about his words. “What.. do you mean?” His face blushes and his gaze focuses on a corner in the room.

“He, um, said that my date was very beautiful. That she was very approachable, and funny. I heard all that, and then the hostess said my date was waiting back here, and I saw you. I thought ‘This must be her.’” You watch his face as he goes on, and all you see is sincerity. Your face burns due to the flattery coming from him right now.

“I… wow.” Is all you manage to get out.

“Once again, I'm sorry. I'll leave you to your dinner.” He pushes his chair out and moves to stand but you can hardly stop yourself from grasping his arm.

“Wait!” His eyes widen slightly and he looks at you expectantly. You chew on your lip nervously and say, “I feel a little responsible for ruining your date. It's the least I could do to have dinner with you. If you would want to, that is.”

He gives you a comforting smile and softly says, “I’d love that.”

note: this was so fun to write, thx so much for the requests. I hope it lives up to your expectations :)

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #hq x reader #hq #hq drabble #daichi x reader #daichi sawamura x reader #haikyuu daichi #haikyuu x female reader #female reader #request

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mywifealhaitham · 9 months ago

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pre release boothill relationship headcanons!!!

a/n: I'm fiending off crumbs... I've wanted to read some x reader of him but theres none so I gotta write it myself. I hope the other 4 boothill fans enjoy

warnings: gn!reader, like 2 gendered pet names (pretty girl/boy), most of this is written with bias because we don't have alot to go off, obviously written prerelease, when we actually get content of him I'll definitely be rewriting

LEAKS AHEAD!!!

bc: Valentine_DD_ on twt

- Boothill is described as a righteous person if his bottom line doesn't get crossed, so he definitely treats you good. probably more on the protective side when it comes to you, he's probably not afraid to use his gun if someone is threatening you.

- and believe me he's intimidating. from his overall tough and "unruly" cowboy look to his mechanical body it leaves enemies just a little challenged. he lowers his voice too and probably has a more fierce look in his eyes too. after any threats have been delt with he probably turns to you and turns into the sweetest thing ever, a wide grin across his face and his hands on your cheeks peppering you with small kisses.

- Its said he's a bit sophisticated due to his experiences so I'd like to imagine sometimes he charms you with facts and details about other planets or just genuinely sharing some tips and tricks he's picked up from other cultures. he's also a person who can get along with others pretty well but he can easily give strangers an impression he's selfish and is a bad person.

- again this kinda feeds into he's basically you'd guard dog... but I mean who wouldn't want to be saved by a handsome and sweet cowboy. despite his unpredictable personality and looks he's a huge gentleman for sure. always opens doors and pulls out chairs for you, makes sure your behind him and okay if any danger approaches and practically listens to your every command (lowkey giving off my girl and I don't argue she tells me to shut up and I do)

- one part I'm so excited to see is what they mean by he's illiterate and using metaphors. it's probably just him using slang but it's still kinda cute. I feel like his cheesy and strange metaphors turn into pick up lines when talking to you. perhaps he'll pull a "did it hurt when you fell from heaven?" or something cheesier. Definitely a huge nickname guy, almost never uses your real name. I'm guessing he'd use stuff like doll, sugar, baby, pretty girl/boy and more teasing names. heavy on doll and sugar and just imagine him saying it in a deep southern accent... 😍 kicking my feet. also I imagine he loves making you giggle by not cursing (because he literally cant) and normally he'd get pissed if someone laughed at him like that if it's you he doesn't mind at all.

- that's pretty much it for like analyzing the leaks I saw but now the stuff up ahead is just bias yapping because I always project

- HE DEFINITELY IS A HAND KISSER. greets you by getting on one knee, holding his hat to his chest and kissing your hand. makes eye contact with you too and does that toothy smirk of his IM SWOONINGGG

- maybe he's a dancer! pulls you into his arms and places his hat on your head when a good song plays in taverns. even if your clueless on any type of dances then he'll pull you along to the beat whispering Instructions in your ear.

- gets so lovesick when drunk it drives everyone mad. any folks he's sitting with at a bar gets a whole speech on his wonderful beautiful darling who he owes his live and would happily die by their hand. and may God save you when you come pick him up because he'll be all over you. Immediately he wraps a arm around your waist as he slurrs his hello as he proceeds to tell you he loves you like 40 times. besides the mass amounts of kisses you'll receive once you both reach a private spot he let's some feelings that he might be too shy to share normally, holding your face as he calls you his pretty girl/boy and how he's so lucky to have you.

- honestly not the best for cuddling however unfortunately he needs to cuddle you to sleep so goodluck! his metal body isn't completely uncomfortable it's just cold alot. he tries to get around this by literally preheating himself with blankets before you go to bed.

very bad boothill brainrot atm... only a few more weeks until we get official content 😭 everyone hold hands we got this

here's the actual leaks if anyone is curious ^_^

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #kiana☆posts #hsr x you #hsr fluff #honkai star rail #hsr #boothill hsr #boothill x reader #hsr leaks

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dahliamalfoy97 · 2 years ago

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FEAST - Upper Moons, Muzan x Y/N reader

MuzanxKokushiboxDoumaxReader

Synopsis: Muzan calls for a meeting with the 3 Upper Moons and his wife is just s little greedy and Muzan decides to share her.

Warning: SMUT 18+ explicit content, slight dub con, group sex, rough sex, threesomes, choking, slapping, spanking, degradation kink, praise kink, slight blood kink, masochism, voyeurism? Monster kink, size kink, oral sex, mentions of kidnapping, murder,violence. So much going on in this.

A/N: first time writing a big group sex thing so it’s probably a bit cringey at times and it’s not edited so there’s probably lots of errors. I am such a simp for these four and have been trying to put them together the best I could. Anyways, hope you enjoy and don’t say I didn’t warn ya 😏

Word count: 7,102

"Y/N," Master Muzan calls from the dining hall, "please bring some of that wine out here."

You hurriedly, grab the bottle and a glass from the cabinet and rush out to the dining room. You freeze for a moment when you arrive. Noticing the Master isn't alone- there's 2 Upper Moon demons siting at the table, your master at the center while one of them sits at his left and the other at his right.

Moonstruck, you cautiously, approach the table, taking in all the guests in a mixture of awe and fear. These two were the real deal. demons after Muzan himself. They were all sitting in one room and you feel the powerful aura that emanated from each of them.

"I'm so sorry, Master, " you stutter, "I didn't realize we had guests, or I would have gotten more glasses."

"It's alright, little dove," Those crimson eyes meet your nervous ones, searing into your soul as usual, making you feel all sorts of flustered.

Master Muzan was the King of Demons. The one that commanded them all to do his bidding. He held the most power. He was also the Devil incarnate because he was able to create demons and to become more powerful he fed on humans. He had an unrivaled bloodlust and was cold to everyone around him. He was cunning, vicious and evil. To everyone but you.

You had been just a human girl, on the brink of starvation when he took you in. He originally was going to fatten you up to kill you, but he ended up finding comfort in your presence and ended up falling for you instead. Because most humans would have been disgusted and terrified of him. But you were willing to do anything to please him. Most demons like him - emotions capable of emotions like love. But you had made him feel much more powerful than his demon army could.

Naturally, you too had fallen in love with the Devil who had saved you. Call it Stockholm Syndrome if you will- but you willingly stayed after learning what he really was. After seeing the blood he shed and the lives he destroyed. You fell in love with the monster anyways.

"Well isn't she a delight?" One of the upper moons cooes, he was ethereal. Like an demon in angel's clothing. This was the vibe the demon gave. He had friendly and inviting smile on his face, but something in those rainbow irises told you it was probably just a mask of the true intent that hid underneath. The one that was full of malice and all things evil. He made you shiver at how someone demonic could look so heavenly. He had pale porcelain skin, and long locks of silvery blonde hair, that swept in all kinds of different directions.

"This is my wife, Y/N," Your Master, replies. "Little dove, this is Douma, he's Upper Rank 2."

You bow your head in respect, "it's a pleasure to meet you."

"my my and she knows her manners too," he kisses your hand with his lips, his touch cold yet shivers automatically shoot down your spine. Something about this demon intrigued you and you wanted so desperately to know the devil underneath those rainbow eyes.

"Lord Douma, if you could please keep your hands to yourself," Muzan warns.

"But I mean she just looks so exquisite- it's shame she's your wife. I'd claim her for myself in an instant."

"You're disgusting," another Upper Moon mumbles to the left of Douma. "Have some fucking respect."

This demon had a more serious aura about him, he seemed more pissed off that he was here. He had hair the color of magenta and eyes like seemed to glow like the sun. His skin was a cool gray hue that had blue lines marking his skin and the rest of his body. He was well defined, as had an open purple vest that exposed his torso. You so desperately wanted to trace all those lines on his chest to see how deep they ran.

"Oh calm down, Pink Head, I'm just paying the lovely lady with some compliments."

"You never have genuine compliments," The Pink haired Upper Moon hisses. "or genuine intentions."

You can't help but giggle at their little banter. All three pairs of eyes focusing on you when you do. You can't help but feel a little shy being at the focus of all these powerful demons. Handsome ones at that.

"She giggled," The Pink Haired Demon says, sounding surprised. "Has she no fear of being around us?"

Muzan looks at you with adoration, "no, my little dove is quite fearless."

"Amazing," Douma wonders, "and she's so fûcking cute too."

Suddenly the doors to the dining room burst open, and the air shifts. As if it was a sunny day and the thunder decided to roll in. This is power this demon had. He had the most intimidating presence of all. He was very tall and muscular, taller than the rest of the demons here. His hair fell into black luscious waves, the ends dipped in a deep red. But it was his eyes that made you tremble. Six pairs of eyes the color of the moon- his scleras a deep red that matched the tips of his hair. He was beautiful in such an intimidating way. If you weren't currently married to Muzan, you'd be falling in your knees in an instant for this man.

"Look who finally decided to show up." Douma taunts, earning a cold glare from the demon.

Something inside you quivered which each step he took. His purple and black checkered kimono billows behind him.

"Kokushibo, you're late," Muzan adds.

"I was busy," the demon finally replies and oh his voice is enough to make you press your thighs together.

Fuck fuck fuck.

You were married to the most powerful demon of all and yet you were craving these demons just as much.

The newcomer- Kokushibo. Who you knew from the character that was stained on his iris- that he was the Upper Rank One, took a seat the other end of the table.

"Well now that everyone is here, we can finally start this meeting, little dove, do you mind getting some more glasses ? "

"Of course, Master," when you looked in those crimson eyes there was a knowing smirk there and you exit the dining room in a flash.

While you're in the kitchen, you can't help but sneak a hand underneath the folds of your skirt, past your panties and feel your arousal dripping.

The amount of power in that dining room had you soaked to the core, flustered and embarrassed at the lewd images that filled your head, you hastily pull your skirt back down and grab the glasses from the cabinet.

Being a little short, you struggle to reach some of them, you try to climb the cabinet but a hand snakes around your waist, pining you between the counter and his backside. "Careful, little one, you're going to injure yourself." He reaches up to grab the glasses for you and places them in your hands, his pale large veiny hands covering your small ones completely.

"Thank you, Lord Douma," you say, a little breathless at the way he was holding you. You could feel something against your backside.

"No problem, little one, I'd be happy to help you in any way," He whispers seductively in your ear, his voice is soft and melodic but the way he speaks, has your nipples straining against the fabric of the flimsy gown you wore.

"Aren't you supposed to be at the meeting?" You murmur as you feel a hand creep under your skirt.

"I am but I excused myself for the bathroom, sometimes a man has needs to attend to," his hand traces circles along your thigh before reaching the outline of your panties. "I know your Muzan's, but fuck, I can't keep my eyes off you. I want to devour you so badly but my curiosity for you and what you'd feel like around my cock, overshadows that and I want nothing more than to have a little taste of you," he tugs your ear between his teeth causing you you whine softly, his fingers dip into your panties and begin to rub your clit. "Did you know all of us demons have a heightened sense of smell, so I can smell your sweetness from across the room. And I just gotta have it."

"But I'm Muzan's," you protest lamely, arching your back as the circles on your clit quicken.

He laughs into your ear, "that's not what your sopping cunt says right now. Akaza was right. I'm not a man with good intentions. I take what I want, when I want."

With a wicked glint in his, he inserts a finger into your hole, he groans lightly at the way your finger just sinks him in, "so fucking wet for pussy that belongs to someone else."

You shamelessly begin to grind yourself againt him as he begins to fuck you his finger.

"Look at you, grinding on me like a needy slut," Douma cooes, while adding a second finger, scissoring them to stretch out your gummy walls. Soon a third finger is added, and you're a sopping mess as he curls them upward immediately finding the spot that makes you scream. "Careful now, don't want your husband to hear you, or maybe you do."

All you can do is whine as he fucks you brutally with his fingers, you hear some rustling, and then your panties are being ripped down, and something hard is poking at your entrance. As soon as it pierces your walls, you let out a wail. The stretch burns and Douma gives you no chance to adjust to his curved long cock as he brutally pistons into you. Your still wedged between him and the counter so there's no room for you to move. Your completely trapped and helpless against his assault on your body.

"Fuck. So. Damn. Tight," he moans in your ear.

You could feel every scrape and every vein of his throbbing cock hammering into you, he was much longer than Muzan was and seemed to reach places deeper, and perhaps it was the precarious position you were in but all you could feel was him.

"Don't stop," you cry, you knew it was wrong for letting Douma fuck you, but it felt too good that you couldn't resist submitting to his control.

"Don't worry, Dollface," he pulls your ass out so it's angled and you have more room to move. You finally can glance down at where your connected, his balls slapping against your skin, that you knew would leave bruises with how hard they were slapping. His thrusts were relentless, animalistic. The counter's edges dig into your skin with each thrust.

Muzan has his rough tendencies, but this was another level, and you were overwhelmed by the pain and pleasure.

Douma's hands travel to your covered breasts and he cups them in his large hands giving time a squeeze.

"You keep clenching around me and I'm going to cum sooner than we both want. Although maybe I should use you for my own personal cum dump, and just take what I want from you."

You're so incoherent at this point that all the comes out of your mouth is strangled garbles, which turns into a whimper when he wraps a hand around you throat to cut off your airway.

"But unfortunately we can't take as long as we want, because your husband is probably wondering where we are," he just continues to babble in your ear.

The possible reminder of Muzan catching you with Douma, made you even more aroused than it should. You clamp around his cock at the thought, which causes him to fuck you harder. You could feel your stomach coiling he continued to pound into that one spot. He kept playing with your airway, with each thrust of his cock he would squeeze and then let go.

"Fuck, Douma, I'm close," you cry, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"So am I, your pussy is amazing, I want to kidnap you and keep you for my own. Muzan is a lucky motherfucker."

His thrusts become slower more torturous as if to draw out your agonizing orgasm, which was desperate for release. You were about to lose it if you didn't cum soon. The ache was too much. Too overwhelming.

"Please Douma, let me cum," you beg.

He laughs, "You can beg better than that."

you pout, but that instantly changes when his speed picks up again, rocking your body with his, "FUCK DOUMA LET ME CUM PLEASE."

He cackles, his rainbow irises bright with amusement, "if Muzan comes in here because of that we are both dead."

"I don't care," you hiss, pushing yourself back on his cock trying to get more.

"Well go ahead then, cum slut, make a mess on my cock," Douma encourages. "If you're the desperate to. I think you're just too drunk on my cock to not care about anything else."

His mocking tone along with his greedy thrusts, has you coming undone.

"That's it, make a mess for Douma," he grins madly, before thrusting a few more times before exploding inside you. You both watch in satisfaction as his cum fills you up. "Looks so pretty with my cum." He grabs something behind him and shoves it into your pussy, making sure his cum doesn't leak out.

"Shit Douma, what if Muzan sees?"

The haze of sex has lifted and you're reminded of what you had just done. But there's no shame or remorse on Douma's face and you sure don't regret a single thing.

"Well if Muzan finds out we're both dead, but it was worth it. Come let's go back to the meeting I'm sure he's wondering where both of us went."

Douma leaves you and you hastily follow after. Arriving at the dining room.

"Sorry, Master Muzan i must have had an upset stomach, one of the girls I ate today before coming here must have messed me up," his rainbow irises have disappeared into crescent moons as he takes his seat next to Akaza.

How could he act like nothing happened just now? Meanwhile, you could feel his cum still inside you, and your cheeks were probably flushed. You had no idea how you looked right now.

As soon as Muzan's scarlet cat eyes land on you, you see that familiar glint in them, and you know he knows.

He was the Demon King after all, he knew everything.

"Little dove, did you forget the glasses as I asked for you to get for our guests?"

His tone is calm, but there's an underlying of a mocking tone.

Shivers immediately go done your spine as you bow in a frenzy, "I'm so sorry, Master I- I don't know how I could have forgotten. I'll go back and get them."

"What a bad girl," Muzan tsks. "You forgot something so simple? I wonder why that is."

"Muzan- I-"

"Y/N come here."

You freeze he never uses your actual name unless it's for a punishment. Ashamed you walk over to where Muzan is sitting, but it's a little hard to with Douma's cock nearly damaging you just moments ago. Whom had a smug grin on his face.

"Muzan-"

"Shut the fuck up and turn around," you shiver at cold and calm his tone was. But you obey nonetheless.

Muzan pushes you against the table, your front side digging into the edge. He pushes up the hem of your skirt and your cheeks immediately heat. All of the demons in this room could see your naked ass. But before you could look to see what their reactions are like, a hand comes down on your ass hard, you jolt at the sudden harsh sting. You look back at those scorching scarlet orbs that seemed to burn into you. Fingers graze your swollen pussy, that's stuffed with your underwear."

"Looks like you've been having too much fun with one of my demons," Muzan states, flashing a glare at Douma before glaring at you again. He tugs the cloth out for your pussy and you cry feeling the liquid drip out of you.

"Douma you just can't control yourself can you?" Akaza scolds and you hear a sudden slash. You turn to see Douma's head being split in half. Akaza's hand covered in his blood. You grimace at the sudden violence but a slap against your ass steals your attention.

"Of course he couldn't," Muzan chastises, "how could he resist such a slutty pussy? Especially when it belongs to me?"

"Because it's fûcking paradise, that pussy is," Douma's melodic voice is back and you see that he's regenerated looking as bright as ever.

"Did he fuck you good?" Muzan inquiries, ignoring the Upper 2, his focus entirely on you and your flushed cheeks and the way Douma's cum oozes out of your glistening cunt. "Looks like he did if you let him cum in you."

You're at a loss for words.

He suddenly grips your throat yanking your had back, choking you slightly, making you look at only him, "fucking answer me, slut!"

"Y-yes," you sob, "He fucked me really good."

He chuckles darkly, "perhaps I should let them all fuck you. Huh? Would you like that? Because you're such a slut my cock isn't enough to satisfy you? So you must have them all."

"Muzan-" you try to plead but suddenly your mouth is being stuffed with something wet. Your arousal pools when you realize it's your panties that's wet with yours and Douma's cum. The stench of sex fills your nostrils.

"Shut the fuck up and get on the fucking table."

Trembling out of embarrassment and arousal you climb on the table, your legs shaking.

Before you can situate yourself, Muzan is flipping you over on your back, and drags your head over the edge, letting it hang. Your legs are spread wide letting all the upper moons getting a view of your exposed cunt.The panties in your mouth are being yanked out and replaced with something hot, thick and heavy. Before you have a chance to process, it's being rammed down your throat without any warning.

Muzan looks at you with a sadistic grin as he plows his cock into your mouth. You could feel the blood rushing to your head making you light headed in this position. But he didn't care to stop at your precarious situation. For Muzan wasn't a kind man when he had to punish. His punishments were cruel and brutal. But never to you. That's why you were so shocked but aroused at his sudden cruelty. Saliva and his precum coated your tongue and dripped out of your mouth, as his balls slapped against your chin.

"What a pathetic little cock whore you are," Muzan mocks, as his cock continues tearing into your throat constantly hitting the back of it. "Who wants a turn with my whore's pussy first?"

"Don't mind if I do," you hear Douma say from somewhere, but your mind is too fuzzy. If you were human, you would have died from getting throatfucked in this position with how hard Muzan was abusing it. You wouldn't be able to talk after this for awhile or ever again if he continued. Suddenly, you feel hands spreading your legs apart, a cold breath hits your aching cunt and when the first flick of a tongue meets your folds, you buck your hips at feeling causing Muzan's cock to hit the back of your throat harshly. A chuckle sounding like Douma's tickles your dripping hole, causing you to flutter. You lose it when that tongue begins swirling your clit. Despite his cold breath Douma's tongue was hot and consuming against your pussy lips sending you into immediate overdrive with the urgent yet hungry way he eats you out. He holds your hips with his hands to keep you from squirming. Becoming a prisoner to his delicious assault. His fingers splay your wet lips open, making it easier to that sweet spot. His slurping noises have you screaming . You weave your fingers into those silky, soft silver locks and push him in as deep as can go.

"You taste so fucking sweet, Doll," Douma hums against your folds. His feasting on you is relentless. The way he swirls and sucks on your clit has you falling apart within seconds. But he doesn't stop when you've cum on his face already he just keeps going. Your thighs shaking as he guides you through another orgasm.

Meanwhile, Muzan is still violently fucking your throat, you could feel every vein of his hard cock as he repeatedly slams into you. It grows heavier against your throat and you knew he was close by the low-yet strained grunts coming from the Demon King above, but before you get the chance to feel his seed down your throat. He's yanking your head off and hot cum sprays your face instead. When you whine in protest, he interrupts, "coming down your throat would be a reward for you. I'm not sure you deserve the reward yet."

Douma, removes himself from your pussy, he guides you up into a sitting position, his face is soaked in your juices, you your lips at the sight.

"So delicious," he praises, before pulling you forward, he reaches for you face and brings you into a hungry, demanding kiss. His lips cold yet, hot at the same time. Tasting your arousal his tongue as he swirls it with yours. You shamelessly lock your arms around him bringing him closer so that you're in his lap, straddling him. You grind yourself on his clothed erection, causing him to coo in your ear. "Such a messy girl, you're making such a mess on my pants. Does it drive you crazy knowing that the four most powerful demons are watching you make a mess on me? Watching you turn into a dirty, greedy, little whore? Hmm?"

You turn into mush at his soft voice that's filled with such lewd words, you continue grinding on him, feeling his massive length under you.

"Yes, Douma."

He chuckles, leaning back lazily watching you fall apart in his lap, while he was doing nothing to help you.

"Look at your girl becoming a slut for another," Douma smirks at a glowering Muzan. You blink your eyes open and meet those scorching scarlet ones. Making you even more turned on. He was currently sitting in his chair, leaned back while stroking himself. His black curls sticking to his face from sweat. A feline, predatory look in the way he stares at you, while you're getting yourself off in another man's lap has you become more frantic- more bold. More needy.

"Yes because that's all she is. Is a good little whore for us demons to ruin."

You moan, gripping Douma's neck, glancing around the room at the others. Akaza was looking disgusted and aroused at the same time. As if fighting an eternal storm in his brain. But the noticeably large tent in his pants said otherwise. His golden eyes meet yours and you beckon him with your finger.

"Come join us, Akaza," you plead. Kokushibo on the other hand was much harder to read. He gave nothing away in those moon colored orbs as those six eyes stared at you with an intensity so strong but it was cold and indifferent at the same time.

"Yeah Koku and Akaza, am I only one going to indulge in this sweet pussy or are you guys going to join?"

"I have no interest," Koku hisses, but his eyes never shift from yours.

"I don't want to share with you," Akaza bites back. "I fucking hate you, rainbow child. "

"But it's not for me, it's for her."

"Plus it's my orders to get to know what's mine," Muzan adds. "And what you'll never get to experience again after this."

"More the reason for me not to join," Koku growls. "Why would I join if I can't keep her all to myself?"

"Because I want you too, Daddy," you plead.

Something in those six eyes flashes, something dangerous that coils in your gut, you come on Douma's lap making a mess, "good job, little one."

"You have no idea what you're asking of me," Koku warns.

"He's a coward then," Douma taunts, flashing the Upper One a charming smile, as he sheds out of his clothes, your jaw dropping as his body was revealed. Douma had a well toned physique his muscles were exquisite and smooth, broad shoulders and a slim waist. Your eyes traveled this cock that you hasn't been able to see before when he was fucking you with it in the kitchen. It was massively long with a slight curve. A good ten inches. You bet. And it stood red and angry against his taut stomach as crisscrossed his legs and brought you back into his lap, not wasting a moment guiding his long shaft into your awaiting heat. You wrap your legs around him, this position was new something you'd never done with Muzan. Every part of Douma was flushed with you. Your tits slapped against his bare chest you rode him in this position. Every inch of his cock was deep and snug against your slick walls. He lets out a strangled moan when you take your nails down his back. There was no telling where you ended and where he started. And you both loved it. He dug his sharp nails into your hips, trying to pull you in deeper.

"Fuck," you both moan, you throw your head back, in pure utter bliss. Reveling in the way he dug into your hole, how every vein and every crevice seemed to scrape along yours. You were sure he was all the way in your stomach.

"You feel so snug and warm against me Doll," Douma praises, his nails digging in deeper. Drawing a little blood causing you to arch into him. "Those idiots don't know what they're missing out on."

A low growl comes from Koku.

"Your blood is just a pretty as you are," Douma grins manically, he brings one of his hands that's covered in your blood. Before bringing it to his mouth. Those usually bright eyes instantly darken and turn feral, the sight of him tasting your blood has you sobbing in pure pleasure. He shoves one into your mouth causing you to choke around his fingers. You instantly taste the metallic taste on your tongue. "Don't you taste divine, little one? Fuck, I might just steal you away from Muzan. I'm too fucking addicted to everything about you. You are so fucking perfect for me. The perfect little doll who takes whatever I give you. don't you all want a taste?"

His words and his actions send you into a frenzy mess and it's not long before your spasming around him, clamping down on him as your orgasm takes over.

"Fuck Douma," you scream.

"I love it when you scream my name," Douma says ever so softly.

Before you have a chance to breathe, you're being pulled off of Douma's cock, you cry at the sudden emptiness. But strong arms whip you around, and without warning a new cock it's a little shorter than Douma's but it is thick, and it's girth is ravenous as it enters you, your head is being pushed down on Douma's lap. His still hard cock being shoved in your face, he just smirks and lifts your head.

"Took you long enough to join us, Pink Head."

"Shut the fuck up, Rainbow Shit," Akaza seethes as he rams into you from behind. His marked hands grip your hips, as he rocks forward into you. Your whole body is jerking at the sudden abruptness. "It's my fucking turn. So let me fuck the bitch."

"Ohmygodohmygod," you cry, "Akazaaaa, you feel incredible."

His cock split you open perfectly. You eagerly took his length in.

"Damn, who pissed you off pinky?" Douma teases, looking at you with a mischievous grin. His long fingers grip your chin and pries your mouth open, his other hand strokes his cock. He smacks teases your half opened lips with the tip, smearing precum on your face. "Open your mouth, little one."

You open up wide, he dutifully shoves your head down on his cock, you hollow your cheeks and slacken your jaw to help take him in. But he didn't really you a chance to adjust as he forced your head up and down his long shaft. Akaza's harsh thrusts causing for Douma's cock to bump down your throat even deeper. Everything felt so good. You'd never felt so used in your life and you were loving every inch of it.

"Now there's a good slut," Douma taunts, "my own personal cocksleeve. Is there anything you can't do?"

"How are you feeling little dove ?" Muzan suddenly calls out, sounding amused. "You're looking quite stuffed there."

To be honest, with the other two demons currently using you for their pleasure you had forgotten about your husband.

"Her mouth is too stuffed with my cock, Muzan, she's not going to answer you," Douma chants.

"Douma you talk too fucking much!" Akaza snaps, his hips snapping in response and then everything falls silent.

Except for skin on skin, and the lewd moans and slurping sounds that filled the room. The three of you were way to into this situation.

"That's it, bitch," Akaza growls as you begin to spasm around his cock. "Squeeze me just like that."

Meanwhile Kokushibo was as silent as ever. His moon colored eyes watching with unnerving intensity. He didn't know what he wanted. He knew he wanted you. But he hated everyone else in this room and didn't like the idea of having to share you with any of them. His cock was painfully hard under his kimono. His knuckles where white and gripping the edge of his seat. But watching how the mess the other demons turned you in, listening to your sweet moans and listening to how wet you were, it was driving him mad.

"Fuck,"' you managed in between having Douma's cock down your throat. "Don't fucking stop. Please Akaza."

"Don't worry, I won't stop until your leaking full of my cum."

Fuck. You were so overwhelmed. The pleasure was unbearable.

You came in white waves, just as Douma's load shot in your mouth.

"Good girl," Douma grins when you swallow all of it.

Not long after Akaza releases in your sensitive cunt with a low grunt, milking it all the way through til the last drop til he pulls out.

You fall into a heap on the table, completely covered in cum. Your whole body ached.

"If you truly want me to fuck you, Princess," Kokushibo suddenly speaks up, "you better crawl to me. And I'm not sharing you with anyone. You're all mine to fuck alone. Understood?"

Douma chuckles, "I don't think she can move, Koku."

"I understand, Daddy."

He chuckles deep and low, sending shivers down your spine.

"Now come to me," he orders.

Slowly, you sit up and get on your hands and knees. Your whole body aches, your drenched in come. But you want nothing more than to be fucked by the Upper 1. Ever since he walked through those doors. There was something about him that made you want to kneel before him and do whatever he asked of you. So you crawl. You feel the others watching you in silence. Even Douma is silent. Kokushibo's eyes never leave yours as you finally reach his end.

He stands up, and fuck, is he tall. He towers over everyone here, he grips your chin with his hands, making you look at only him. Those six eyes burn into every inch of you, "you better pray that you can handle everything I give you. Because I won't hold back. None of these idiots can compare to how I'll make you feel. Not even Muzan. I'll sweep you off your feet," he whispers so no one else but you can hear him. He glances up in the direction of Muzan, as he removes his clothes.

And holy shit is he built by the gods. Now not built by the gods. He is a god. Made of pure muscle. Pure power and pure dominance radiated from this demon. As if he was carved from stone. Not a single inch of him was flawed. You wanted to lick those abs. The flame pattern that he had on his face went down to his chest. Making him look even more exquisite. Your eyes shamelessly rake down to his rock hard cock. Or could you even call it that. It was bigger than anyone else's here. And it was thick. Long, thick and you knew it was going to break you.

"Fucking hell, Kokushibo, I might even be gay for you," Douma replies.

"Okay everyone out. Except for Y/N and Muzan. The other two I want you gone."

"But-"

"So selfish, don't you know sharing is caring-"

Douma is cut off by Akaza dragging him by the hair.

"From here on out, you're mine. With the permission of Muzan-"

"Oh you really think I'm just going to hand her over to you?" Muzan laughs darkly. "She's mine, she was mine before she was yours."

"Why don't you both just fuck me and stop this overbearing egotistical shit?" I ask. "If you both want me, then you have me."

" I don't share," Kokushibo seethes. "I would literally start a war to make you mine."

"But so would I," Muzan replies.

You roll your eyes.

"Well let's just see who fucks you better," Koku challenges.

"Sure," Muzan replies coldly. "Go ahead and give it your best."

"Lay down and spread those legs for me, Princess," Koku demands.

You immediately obey him, and watch him as he stalks towards you. He bends down and closes the distance between your lips. A wildfire burns through you at the intensity of his lips. The way he seemed to command and consume your lips. You barely could breath. You let out a moan when he nipped your bottom lip. His hands start to roam your body, and yours could barely grip onto his back. You were so small in comparison to him. But you were determined to feel every ridge. He begins to fondle your breasts, playing and kneading them like dough. You were nothing but putty in his hands. You reach for his cock, but he slaps your hand away.

"Fuck, Koku," you say breathlessly. "I need you now. Please."

"Patience," he hisses, his lips leave yours and starts leaving trailing down your neck. You arch into him when he begins sucking marks into your skin. He continues you mark and map you with his mouth, until he stops just right where you want him. Over your throbbing pussy. Which was still sensitive from the other demons, so you knew he was going to truly ruin you. He runs a finger along your slick seams and you hitch in a breath. "I love how you're still begging to be used after Douma and Akaza had their way with you. I guess you're not fucked properly enough if you can still crawl to me. Don't worry, Princess I'll fix that little problem for you."

He slowly inserts a long finger, groaning at the way you immediately suck him in. "Even though you've already been fucked by the others, you still need to be prepared to take me. Because I am much bigger than they are."

"Fuck," you whimper.

After prodding you with one finger he adds another and then a third. Scissoring open your gummy walls. He wastes no time curling them upwards and finding your spot. Jabbing them slowly, teasing you. You arch your back, but something stops you and pins you still. Muzan has joined in. But he's in his true demon form. With his white curly hair, and tentacles sprouting from his back. His tentacles are straining your arms, leaving you utterly immobile.

"You're so greedy fucking all my demons today. What, you want them all? Is that it? Am I not enough for you?"

"Y-you are enough i - I just-" you scramble for words, but you're slapped in the face, Kokushibo's mouth finally descends on your clit. " Lies!" Muzan growls at the same time you scream out " aww fuck!"

Kokushibo's tongue delves into every crevice, sucking while he still fucks you on his fingers. You eagerly grind on him, for more friction. Needing and wanting more.

"Koku, don't stop!" You cry.

Muzan leans over you and shoves his cock down your throat again. At the same time you feel yourself being stretched. No- ripped. You scratch the table since your arms are still pinned by Muzan's tentacles. Kokushibo wastes no time hammering his monster cock into you, greedily taking you however he wants. Muzan's cock plunges into your mouth with the same carnal desire.

"Such a good little toy," Muzan says. "Isn't she Kokushibo?"

But he ignores and focuses his attention on where your bodies meet. He could see the outlines of his cock in your stomach. The table was creaking underneath all the weight. Both demons destroyed and ravaged your body in the most inhuman way, none of them caring about how tired battered was becoming. It was a lewd sight. Truly insane. One of Muzan's tentacles curls around your body and down your clit. Sucking on it as Kokushibo's thrusts become harder, deeper.

You mumble incoherent moans around Muzan's cock. Your vision was becoming blurry, your body numb from all the attention it was receiving.

Another tentacle plays at your other entrance, the wet muscle teasing the rim of your opening.

"See you can own her pussy," Muzan states confidently, "but I own her entire body. Including her soul."

With that the tentacle pushes into your hole. Muzan pulls out of your mouth to let you scream. Choking you with his hands. You come instantly. Your body is being overwhelmed the pleasure was starting to hurt because you've come countless of times tonight, you didn't even know how many. But your body was reaching its limit. But you didn't want them to stop. All your holes are being filled and there wasn't an inch of you that belonged to you anymore. You were theirs. Their plaything.

"Shut the fuck up, Muzan!" Kokushibo warns.

Muzan just laughs, and sobers up when he notices how dizzy you're looking, "you okay, little dove? Do you need us to stop?"

Kokushibo slows a bit, caressing your face, "we'll stop princess, if you need us too."

You shake your head, "no... I'm fine."

Kokushibo picks you up, taking you into his arms, kissing you softly, his length still pounding upwards into you while you cling to him like a koala.

"Please don't stop, koku. I want you to come in me," you whine. Muzan is suddenly at your back. Your sandwiched in between the two most powerful demons, and you couldn't be more at peace.

"Lift her for me," Muzan commands softly. Kokushibo doesn't fight this time, he grips your ass with his massive hands a lifts you up, Muzan's tip nudges your other entrance before easing his way in. You whine at the sudden stretch of both men inside you. Both with big cocks and big egos. They take turns hammering into you. You grab Koku by the neck and pull him in for a sloppy, kiss. Moaning into his mouth. He kisses you back with as much fervor.

“fuck don’t stop you guys,” you plead, before pulling away from Koku. Muzan grabs you by the chin and claims your mouth with his you grip his white silky locks, tugging on them as he devours your mouth possessively.

You could feel your orgasm approaching and by the way both cocks were growing inside you, and hips were starting to stutter, you could tell both demons were close.

“Koku- Muzan - I’m close.”

“Makes a mess, Princess,” Kokushibo encourages gruffly, “make a mess on Daddy’s cock.”

“Little dove, cum for Master,” Muzan growls.

“I want us to come together, fill me up, please.”

“Alright,” Muzan says.

A few more thrusts and clenching around them, you throw your head back onto Muzan’s chest as both men fill both your holes up with cum at the same time.

“Awww fuck,” you all say unison when you’re being pulled off and cum gushes out.

“That is the most satisfying thing I’ve ever seen,” Muzan says.

But you’re eyes are drifting shut.

“I’ll have make you a mandatory part of our meetings from now on,” Muzan says, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

“I hope you understand I’m not letting her go now,” Kokushibo warns. “She’s mine now too.”

Muzan rolls his eyes, lifting you into his arms.

“Well then how about she’s all of ours,” Douma appears with Akaza in tow.

“I don’t share,” Kokushibo snaps, “I will kill you all to have her to myself.”

“And I definitely don’t want to share her with you, Rainbow Shit.”

Douma pouts, “I thought we all just had a bonding moment. We’re friends now you and I.”

In a blink of an eye, Akaza swipes Douma’s head in half.

“You and I will never be friends.”

“How rude,” Douma sighs as he’s once again regenerated. “ I am seriously offended,” he puts a hand over his chest.

“You’re all lucky I let you indulge in MY WIFE,” Muzan reminds them harshly. “Next time I might not be so kind.”

“Guys can you all stop fighting over me?“ you murmur sleepily on Muzan’s lap. Still naked. Kokushibo grabs his kimono and places it over you to cover you up. “What if I want all of you?”

All eyes snap to you, all demons growl. Even Douma is annoyed.

“Sweetheart we are demons, we don’t share with others. We take what we want from others even if that means killing,” Douma explains. “ and us four demons specifically each other’s guts.”

“Fine, then I want none of you then,” you hiss.

“No!” Kokushibo snaps, “ you want all of us? Then fine. We’ll agree to your wishes if it makes you happy. “

“That’s if we don’t kill each other first,” Akaza pipes in.

“No promises,” Douma smirks.

"All right, little dove, you win-“ suddenly Muzan’s head is beheaded falling to the floor with a thud. Kokushibo is standing behind, before stealing you from the demon king, then before anyone can react.

Kokushibo vanishes with you in his arms.

“I believe this will definitely start a war Koku,” you protest.

“I don’t care, we both know the minute I walked through those doors, that you were mine.”

Feeling a bit overwhelmed, but you didn’t mind. He was right he stole you away from Muzan the minute he walked through those doors.

“So where are you taking me, Koku?” Pulling caressing his face softly.

He looks down at you with a warm smile, “I’m taking you home, with me. Where you belong.”

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