#I literally just stood there jaw on the floor watching him kiss angel devil on the lips | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Text

Curious Gazes

prompt: [CEO!Harry] four times harry has been spotted by employees being very unlike his demeanor at work.

word count: 4.3 k

warnings: harry is an asshole to everyone but is wife and baby.

**** <-- click for visuals throughout the story. ( because i love showing off how dumb rich harry is - i mean he’s a billionaire ffs)

notes: thanks so much for the love on the first part. I will be writing quite a bit for this trope. the next addition will be all smut. love you, enjoy.

PART ONE

----

RESERVATION RUN-IN

Harry has over a hundred-thousand full-time employees. He has nearly ten-thousand at his London office at all times. The skyscraper was beautiful with clear glass, a reflective grey tone, and the structure screamed modern. It has eighty-three floors.

So with that being said, Harry does not know even one third of the people who work in the building nor does he want to. He couldn’t pick them out of a line-up if he tried.

However, having so many employees in the city means his staff members are bound to catch sight of their boss pretty often outside of the office.

Sarah, Lucielle, Jack, and Anya - all from the customer service department of Styles Media and Marketing Inc. - are all out to dinner. They decided to go all out and dish out a hefty amount to eat at Il Nascondiglio Segreto. It was a reservation they had made nearly a month ago.

As they’re enjoying their appetizer, Lucielle nearly chokes on her oyster, “Holy shit. It’s Harry,” She whispers, nodding her head in the direction she was staring with bulging eyes.

They all can’t help but turn subtly, a perfect vantage point from where they’re sat right across the way from the group of employees. Their boss was dressed in a bit more casual - not by much - attire than he’d worn to the office earlier that Friday afternoon.

He had an open blazer with a white, nearly see-through button up. Their eyes nearly jumping out of their skulls when they spot his butterfly tattoo sitting on right below his sternum. Jack’s hawk eyes catch that he has a name in cursive on his left pec.

Plus his normal tailored suit trousers were replaced with tight skinny jeans that hugged his crotched - making it unmistakable that he was well….endowed. Hair was no longer as styled and curled. Laying more carelessly on his shoulders. ****

But what was the most absurd thing they saw him wearing was a smile. His lips were curled up in a large, white grin that was big enough to cause little wrinkles around his eyes.

His hand intertwined with his wife’s until they arrived at their table, pulling out her chair for her, landing a soft kiss on her cheek before sitting down in his across from her.

He automatically puts an open palm halfway across the table and his date places her’s right on top of it. Her large engagement ring and wedding band sparkling in the low lighting in the restaurant. They were holding hands over the table.

The group had never actually seen the women they deemed Cruella Deville. They had envisioned his wife with bleach blonde hair, fake tits, and fish lips complimented with botox that made it so her forehead didn’t move.

But they were met with a beautiful, natural one instead. She had gorgeous curled locks trailing down her back, light neutral makeup with normal sized lips, small creases where they should be.

Her body was natural as well, breasts pushed up in a bra but obviously not manufactured by the way they sat, a bit of a pouch around her midsection - a telltale sign from her recent pregnancy, and a radiant smile to match her husband’s.

They looked so happy and in love.

She was dressed short, polka-dotted black dress with a pair of simple black shoes. She complimented with with a bright red lip which stood out against the dark fabric. ***

It’s not that they didn’t look like a match - she was absolutely stunning. It just wasn’t who they imagined for the boss they despised ninety percent of the time.

The group can’t keep their eyes off the couple - subtly, of course - for their whole time at the restaurant.

Harry was laughing loudly - different sound than when he laughed without a humor at bumbling, nervous employees.

It was light and higher pitched - but still gravely low; smooth like honey as his wife matches his laughs.

At one point, after their meal arrives - Harry offers her a spoonful of his food, playfully complaining that she took too big of a bite - but then immediately offering her more right after.

When she excused herself to the bathroom, Lucille catches Harry’s sneaky hand reaching out to give her backside a quick grope which earns him a warning glance that has him snickering.

Anya who was in the restroom nearly runs into her, Y/N apologizes instantly, “I’m sorry! Wasn’t watching where I was going! Are you alright?”

Anya nods, a bit at a loss of words, talking to Harry Styles' wife, “I’m okay, thank you.”

“I swear I have two left feet,” Y/N jokes, complimenting her dress before disappearing into a stalls. A completely lovely girl.

It’s pathetic but the group lingers around to watch their boss’s full dinner date. It was creepy but they were just so stunned at the man that was sitting by them.

The couples behavior had turned more flirty by this point, Y/N’s eyelashes fluttering at little bit more at her husband, her giggles flowing more often with licks to her lips.

By the clenched fist on the table, Harry seems to be falling prey to the teasing.

But when his wife whispers something - that must have been filthy - and leans forward so her cleavage is displayed more, Harry’s pulling out his wallet, pulling an absurd amount of bills out and throwing them carelessly on the table.

Y/N’s eyes are twinkling in victory as her husband stands and helps her out of her chair - ever the gentlemen.

It doesn’t seem very gentlemen like though when his hand comes to the very lowest point on the small of her back - pushing her into him. He leans down to murmur something into her ear before landing a damp, way too intimate for public kiss to her jaw and then throat.

In turn, she looks up at him with a mischievous tilt of her lip and a challenging raised brow. You could cut their sexual tension with a knife.

Y/N lifts up on her toes to kiss him before grabbing his hand and guiding him out of the establishment quickly - his eyes glued to her bum the whole time.

Jack breaks the bated silence, with a bewildered chortle, “What the fuck was that?”

Sarah sips her wine, “Maybe he has a twin? Like a good twin? And he’s the evil one.”

They all laugh and finish up their desserts.

---

MOTHER’S DAY SHOPPING

Kasey and Tom - from Human Resources - are out for the day. It was a week before Mother’s Day and they were both scrambling for a gift at the shops.

Harrod’s was nearly empty as they had came in a few minutes after the store opened. Kasey had gotten distracted from her mission and was trying on shoes.

There was a 40% off sale and she wasn’t passing that up.

Tom had wondered off to the electronics department very soon after the first five shoeboxes arrived next to her chair.

“Pink!” Kasey hears a high-pitched baby voice squeal with utter delight. She looks up to see a curly haired toddler pointing at a pair of pink baby shoes.

The little girl had the cutest denim dress on with white stripes ***, white tights on, and white Mary Janes. When Kasey looked closer she realized the Gucci emblem was on the dress - holy shit, she didn’t even know Gucci made baby clothes.

“Daddy, please?” The toddler asks in a sweet, small voice looking to the approaching man who scoops her up in the crook of his elbow.

“Ivy, y’can’t run away from daddy. Do you understand me?”

Kasey’s eyes widen as she recognizes that deep, raspy voice. It was her boss, Harry Styles, and with his little mini who looked like a cherub angel.

“No run, daddy,” Ivy grins up at him, looking for approval.

The slightly stern look dissipates from his face into a softer, relaxed smile at his daughter’s words. He kept her close against his chest.

“Daddy, please?” She piques up again, pointing at the small shoes on the wall.

“Y’want those shoes?” Harry asks, nodding towards the pink sneakers.

Ivy nods before pointing at the other shoes next to it, “All, please?”

Despite her father not having any manners in the slightest, his daughter seemed to have excellent etiquette.

Harry chuckles, smoothing a stray curl down from her forehead, “Y’want a pair of all these shoes?”

Ivy nods with wide doe eyes and one of her dimples popping in her left cheek.

“Y’mother’s going to kill me,” Kasey hears Harry mutter before waving a sales associate over.

“Good to see you, Mr. Styles - I’m Tracey. What can I help you with?”

Of course they knew him by name. He was by the looks of it one of their most appreciated customers, figuring he rarely wears the same thing twice.

“Can I please get a pair of all these shoes in a toddler’s size three? And can you please ring them up for me? Thank you,” Harry asks, his voice taking on the executive and firm tone with the associate who nods and turns on her heel.

“Daddy? Kissy?” The girl asks her father, her little palm patting his cheek and she’s puckering her pink lips.

“Yes baby,” Harry obliges, giving her a peck before blowing a raspberry on her cheek. He tugs down her dress that’s ridden up in true parent fashion.

As they’re waiting, Harry continues to talk to his daughter, “Y’know pet, we came here to shop for mumma for mother’s day. Y’always manage to get something out of it, hmm?”

“Mummy?” Ivy squawks, repeating her father’s word.

“Yes, mummy. I think she’s really going to like the necklace we picked out,” Harry taps at her nose, his eyes just read love and amazement for his little girl.

Kasey was dumbfounded.

This man had literally stormed into their offices yesterday, frustration seeping into his loud tone as he asked the room of employees if it was a lady's brunch club or a place of employment when he hadn’t gotten a report on his desk at a certain time.

They’d all stuttered and apologized but Harry had already slammed the door of his way out - the doorframe shaking. A nasty email being sent to their inboxes mere minutes later.

“Mr. Styles? We are out of two of the pairs,” The saleswoman appears and tells him, tablet now in hand.

Harry’s voice is calm but he looks her dead in the eye, “Do you not know how to ship them to a house? I don’t have time for this nonsense.”

She begins to apologize, pulling up a page of her tablet, “Your total comes to £6,309.45 for the shoes.”

Kasey’s eyes nearly pop from her head at the total but Harry merely blinks and states, “Charge it to my Amex on file.”

“Would you like me to add on the items you picked up downstairs? That would bring your total to £ 213,088.79. The necklace *** will be shipped within the next two weeks and will need to be signed for at your doorstep by an authorized person of your choosing, they’ll need to provide identification to certify their identity.”

“I need the necklace by next Sunday- it’s my daughter’s Mother’s Day gift to her mum - hence the pink diamonds,” Harry states to the woman like she’s stupid.

Did that woman just say that amount? And did Harry not even bat an eyelash at it.

Kasey’s brain couldn’t really comprehend it.

“Expedited shipping on this item would be…” Tracey looks down at her tablet and taps a few buttons, “It will be an extra £3,219 for expedited shipping as it’s coming from Swittzerland.”

Harry is distracted for a moment as Ivy is wriggling until Harry puts her down. Kasey didn’t see that he had a plush doll tucked in between his jeans and belt on his back.

“Baby doll,” Ivy pokes at her father’s thigh, too short to reach her toy.

Harry tugs it out and hands it to her, “Stay right here, Vee.”

Ivy unceremoniously plops on the ground next to her father’s leather boot while he confirms the purchases and signs off on them.

It was cute - the plush baby doll she was playing with was ratty, worn, and very visibly loved. It seems as if it’s been her favorite toy for a while.

After finishing up with Tracey, Kasey sees him slip her a few bills for her trouble and lugs Ivy back up onto his hip.

“Shake, daddy?” Ivy lisps hopefully, green eyes sparkling up at her father’s.

Harry lets out a chuckle, “No, baby. It’s only ten in the morning, y’can’t have a milkshake. Let go home, maybe mumma will make us some blueberry pancakes if we give her lots of kisses?”

“Mummy,” Ivy agrees happily, her plush held tightly against her chest.

“She’s going to love your gift, darlin’, even though y’the best gift we’ve ever got,” Harry murmurs lovingly, pressed a warm kiss to his daughter’s cheek.

Tom has wandered back to the shoe department, eyes unfortunately meeting his boss’ right away - widen with surprise.

Harry’s eyes narrow when he finds Tom staring, “Can I help y’mate?”

“Uh-no! Sorry, just, erm, I work for you?” Tom stutters stupidly at his annoyed employer who currently has his toddler trying to pulls his sunglasses off the top of his head.

“Then I’d recommend, if you’d like it to stay that way, you mind your own damn business,” Harry bites out with a warning tone, unnecessarily rude.

Ivy doesn’t seem bothered, delighted when she tugs the shades off his head and attempts to put them on. She begins huffing as she struggles and Harry gently takes them and slides them on for her.

Tom nods, still baffled, and scurries over to Kasey.

They both glance back when their boss isn’t looking. He hears him murmur softly, “Let’s go see mummy.”

“Pancakes?” Ivy chirps, looking at her dad for confirmation.

“Anythin’ for you, my little love,” Harry agrees, starting to walks to the elevator to the entrance of the store.

Tom and Kasey look at each other with unexplainable expressions as they watch their asshole of a boss clearly wrapped around a toddler’s finger.

—-

THE PARK

“Hi! Is anyone sitting here?” Savannah hears from beside her on the park bench.

She looks up to see a beautiful, young woman looking to be around her age looking at her expectantly. She has a backpack on her shoulders and a curly-haired toddler on her hip.

“Nope! You’re good!” Savannah replies kindly, moving over to make room on the bench for her to sit.

“Awesome, thank you. I’m Y/N and this is Ivy. Say ‘hi’,” Y/N prompts her daughter with a nudge.

Ivy puts on a beaming smile, white little blocky teeth on display, “Hi.”

“I’m Savannah and the little brunette boy in the green shirt is mine - his name’s Flynn.”

“Tell her how old you are, baby,” Y/N smiles, always trying to get her daughter to socialize as much as possible.

“Two!” Ivy giggles before impatiently squirming, “Mummy, play.”

Y/N laughs, “Just as impatient as your father. Go on, stay where mumma can see you, please.”

Ivy nods before speeding off towards the little jungle-gym to automatically start playing with the little group of kids.

“I wish I had their energy,” Y/N sighs, tugging a water bottle out of her backpack.

Savannah was obsessed with everything gucci - even though she couldn’t afford anything - so when she spots the flashy bag, she can’t help but ask, “Is that a custom Gucci monogram multipack?”***

Y/N takes a sip before answering, “Yeah, my husband gave it to me as a gift on ‘national stay at home mum day’ - which I don’t even think is a real thing. He just knows I’ll chew him out if he buys me things like this without reason.”

They both laugh, Savannah can’t help but glance over the woman a little bit closer. She had a ratty, vintage tee on, plain black leggings, and a pair of black Nikes on - nothing that screamed over the top.

But then she spots the engagement ring *** on her finger. Savannah thought it looked so extravagant it almost looked fake. But the way the faucets reflect so magnificently in the sunshine makes her sure it’s real.

“What was that?” Savannah snaps back, realizing she hadn’t heard what Y/N was saying - too busy deciding how much money she had which wasn’t right when the girl was being so friendly.

“Oh, just - do you know any mum groups around here? I was in a group but all they liked to do was gossip and bitch. And I think Ivy heard the word ‘cunt’ one too many times from them.”

Savannah barks out a laugh, Y/N turns out to be extremely funny and friendly. She has a bit of a foul mouth and a quick wit but is a good listener.

“And so I said to the dude -“ Y/N cuts off when her phone rings, digging it out and answering, “Hi H, yeah. The one with the big purple slide, okay.”

When she hangs up, she tells her new friend, “My husband is stopping by really quick. He has a business dinner later and won’t see Ivy before her bedtime. Or me before my bedtime,” Y/N laughs.

“That’s so nice of him!” Savannah says, knowing her husband enjoyed when everyone was asleep by the time he came home. Would never go out of his way like Y/N’s husband would.

Y/N says with a smile in her eyes, “Yeah, he’s really good to us.”

They continue to chat until they hear a loud engine revving into the car park, Y/N rolls her eyes and mutters, “Of course, he brings the loudest car today.”

A vintage car swings into a spot and Savannah nearly gasps at who exits the car and begins to stride towards them. No one other than her boss.

The man who had her doing her job by the book and when one hair fell out of place he knew right away.

The man who she avoided at all cost possibly - taking the stairs so she doesn’t have to be in the elevator with his intimidating presence.

It took her a minute to connect the dots. Y/N was married to Harry? Harry was Ivy’s dad? It through her through a loop - Y/N was just - so nice.

But it does explain all the gucci and the massive diamond ring. She did happen to work for a fucking billionare. Y/N didn’t come off as a billionaire or a billionaire’s wife.

‘Holy shit, this is wild,’ Savannah thought.

Harry makes his way over to the bench, Y/N standing up to hug him. Harry kisses her softly with a large palm coming to slip under the back of her shirt to rub at her bare back.

Uh - this man was being loving and affectionate? Proving all Savannah's preconceived notions about him wrong. Mostly that he was a robot.

“Hi darlin’, have a good day?” Harry asks his wife, still holding onto her and tugging her into his side - looking to Ivy who was obliviously - playing on the swing.

“Mmm, don’t want you to go tonight,” Yn/Ngroans dramatically, squeaking when Harry playfully pinches her side.

“Tell me and I won’t go,” He murmurs with surprising sincerity against his wife’s cheek, smiling when Ivy lets out a loud, carefree giggle with her new friends.

“Oh! I’m being rude. This is Savannah, Savannah this is my husband Harry,” Y/N introduces the two, unknowing of their connection.

Savannah swallows harshly and gives him a timid wave, “Hello.”

Harry shows no recognition that he knows her but gives her a curt nod and rasps out a “hello.”

Y/N rolls his eyes at her husband, patting his toned stomach, “He’s always a little crabby after work,” She jokes as he smirks at her - he’s rarely ever crabby with his wife and they both know it.

After work? How about from the time he stepped foot through the lobby doors everyday? He only had one mode at work - crabby.

“It’s ok-“

“Daddy!” A squeal interrupts them, a blur of brunette curls crashing into her father’s legs - full force with excitement.

Harry is bending down and tucking her into his arms for a hug, “Hi baby, y’bein’ so good for mumma?”

His tone had shifted into a low, relaxed drawl that Savannah had never heard. His words are kind and caring towards his daughter.

“Good for mumma,” Ivy parrots her father, dimples popping as she pushes at Harry’s face when he attacks her with kisses.

“You taste so good I could eat yah!” Harry growls playfully, Ivy giggling delightedly at her fathers antics until her cheeks are flushed pink with laughter.

“Swings, daddy,” Ivy motions with green doe eyes. Grass and mud stains the outfit her mother had dressed her in - cute striped overalls with a white tee underneath *** and little sneakers ****.

“Oh dove, I wish I could. I have to go back to work,” Harry frowns, his thumb coming to caress her sweaty cheekbone.

Her brows furrowed and her full pink lips turned down - Savannah has to contain a laugh by how much she looks like her father with the displeased grimace on her face.

“No, no, Daddy,” Ivy argues adamantly, her eyes brimming with sad tears.

“Vee, c’mon, my love. I’ll be home later,” Harry soothes, starting to rock her from side to side to calm her.

But Ivy is in her terrible twos and doesn’t like the word ‘no.’

Y/N comes up to her husband’s side, tucking a hand into his back pocket to rest.

“Ivy Elizabeth, we need to let your father go. Come to mummy now, please,” Her mother asks in a soft but firm tone.

“No!” Ivy absolutely shrieks with a awfully high pitch, “No mummy, daddy swings!”

The couple shares a look before Y/N is gathering her backpack on her shoulder, looking back to Savannah, “Hey! Text me, it’s about nap time for this one.”

Savannah agrees and gives them both a wave off as Harry totes his tantruming toddler to a sleek, teal SUV. It takes her a moment to scoff internally - off course it’s a Bentley ***.

And because Savannah can’t help but be nosey she googles the price of the car and quickly locks her screen when she sees the base price is £ 210,000.

Harry is planting little pecks on his daughter’s face and murmuring to her until her tears have dried up and she’s laughing at her dad once again.

After Harry straps her into the car seat and shuts the door, he gently pushes his wife back against it. His body is crowding hers, arm over her shoulder against the car.

The talk for a moment before Harry’s ducking down to pull a few kisses from her lips before she’s giggling and pushing him off.

Savannah couldn’t wait to tell the old women at in her customer relations department tomorrow.

—

THE GAME

Cassie didn’t mind Harry actually. She made his coffee nearly every morning and she secretly knew he was the one who left those hefty tips.

She’d fumbled over his orders a few times when she’d started and apologized profusely but Harry had just looked up from his phone and said, “S’fine.”

Yeah, that’s not much but compared to some of the horror stories she hears, but she was grateful for another reason.

—-

One day he had found her crying in a empty corridor that he used to walk to his car at the end of his day.

“Y’alright?” Her boss asks gruffly, pausing to look down at her - no clear emotion on his face.

Cassie nods sheepishly, “M’sorry, I’m just really stressed out.”

Harry’s eyes flash a tad darker, “Is Carole giving you trouble?”

Carole was her manager.

“N-no. I got declined for my school financial aid. If I don’t come up with the money I’ll have to drop out. I-I have a son and I do-don’t have the money to go without help.”

Harry doesn’t say anything, rustling into the inner pocket of his suit and fishing out something - a checkbook.

He clicks the pen and moves his hand quickly across the pad before ripping it out and handing it to her, “Good luck and use the extra on your family. Don’t go spreading it around that I did this.”

Cassie goes to thank him or refuse it but when she looks back up from the check he’s already striding away down the hallway away from her.

She lets out a loud sob as she sees a check written for £150,000 right in front of her.

—

Cassie still works at the Starbucks part-time while attending college with the help of her secretly kind boss.

The extra money she’s stowed away in an education fund for her son after he graduates.

Anyways, she was at Man U football game that she got invited to with her boyfriend - Jacob. His dad won tickets for box seats from his work in a raffle.

Cassie soon realized that their box was right by the Styles Media and Marketing one. The way they were placed, she could see right into their area.

It was just Harry and a woman in there.

They were obviously a couple and this was the Cruella Deville. Cassie didn’t refer to her as that as she had a bit of a different perspective of the man.

His wife was sipping on a water bottle and cheering loudly with the rest of the fans. Harry watched her with amusement at her excited behavior, at one point pulling his photo out and snapping a picture of her.

When the exciting bit is over, she seats herself on his lap and wriggles until her back is against his chest - comfortable and cozy.

His large palm comes to cup at her stomach, Cassie now seeing that she is clearly pregnant as he cradles the noticeable bump protectively.

For most of the game, his hand never leaves her belly - rubbing circles with his thumb. His head came to rest on her shoulder to watch the game.

They seem so happy together - giggling and talking animatedly throughout. His wife constantly tilting her head back with her lips puckered requesting kisses that Harry happily supplies each time.

At one point, Cassie witnesses Y/N eat two huge corndogs in a row while her husband watches her with humor in his eye. Then goes on to order her a massive spool of candy floss that he feeds her throughout the game.

It was a late game and it was now in overtime. The clock reads nearly eleven at night. Harry’s wife has dozed off against his shoulder and when he notices he gently rouses her.

As she blinks her eyes open, Harry shucks his jacket of his shoulder and helped her slip it on. They must decide to call it a night because he’s helping her up, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, and guiding her out of the box.

Cassie never tells anyone that she saw him that night or what he did to help her family.

The End.

Hope you bubbbies enjoyed. Send me requests for this verse. Smut is up next for this trope.

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bigboomboi · 4 years

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Heaven and Hell

So, I spent a hot minute writing this and then screwed up by giving my ‘reader more character than need be, then gave her a name.... Then came up with MORE story line.... Welp.

@smittenkitten143 hi it’s shy friend

Words: 4762

Warnings: Angst, blood, uh i think that’s it

“Mina, you squirm so much!” A winged girl complained, ungracefully dropping Mina on the ground.

“Sorry, Mao just went so high, it scared me.” Mina pouted, picking herself up.

“Mina, I was only eight feet off the ground, it’s not the highest you’ve been.” Mao sighed, fluttering her wings to dust them off. “You’ve been thrown higher.”

Mina laughed and followed her up to the dorm doors. “But that was against my will.”

Mao rolled her eyes and groaned. “If you’re scared of heights, why did you ask me to carry you?”

“Because you’re my best friend and you love me so very much.” She answered, throwing her arm around the winged girl.

Mao paused and narrowed her eyes down at Mina before wedging her wing in between herself and the pinkette. With perfect timing, she flicked Mina off of her body and into the unsuspecting Denki walking past. Both yelped, barreling into the wall before falling into a heap of idiot.

Mao snickered and continued into the lounge. “You know, for an angel. You’re an asshole.” Bakugo commented.

“Awe, you have no room to talk, Boomer.” She teased, flicking her wing at him as well. “And who says I’m not a devil?”

Mao’s quirk was classified as Heaven and Hell; a set of permanent wings protruding from her shoulders with the heavenly gift of graced white wings and damned black wings. She had the ability to switch between the two at will, whenever she saw fit, and both versions had their perks.

Bakugo swatted at her feathers and scoffed. “The halo on your head, Angel.” That was new, there was normally an insult in front of that nickname.

“Yeah, it’s just stuck on my horns.” She shrugged, leaning down to kiss his cheek.

She and the explosive hero had an odd complicated relationship. While they never explicitly said they were together, they never said they weren’t. Mao was never afraid to quip back at him and easily went toe to toe when battling, so he most definitely respected her, not that he’d admit that aloud. It was apparent the two cared for each other, just neither wanted to take the leap.

“Anyway, I’m gonna shower, Mina got dirt in my wings.” Mao hummed, content with the colour on his cheeks before turning and jogging up the stairs to her room.

She sighed and stepped into the massive room, really it wasn’t that large, maybe only twice the size of a normal dorm room. But she still felt bad, they modified her room to accommodate her wings. They’d even offered her a bath, seeing as she couldn’t really fit in a normal stall, but thankfully they settled for elongating a shower in the shower room.

An hour later Mao stood out on her balcony, shaking the water out of her wings. The plants below probably praised her name for how much water her wings always share. A resounding knock echoed through her room startling her a bit.

She opened the door to reveal a blonde pyromaniac. “Hello, Bakubomb, what brings you here?”

“Shitty hair is being annoying.” He grumbled. “You gonna let me in or what, Bird Brain?”

She contemplated it for a minute, this wasn’t the first time he’d made his way to her room with a dumb excuse and each time she let him in. So this time was no different. She smirked and grabbed her blow dryer.

“Well, I do need help drying my wings.” She sighed dramatically.

He rolled his eyes, trying to appear annoyed at the request, but nevertheless stepped into the room, snatching her hair dryer. She took a seat on the floor and let one of her wings expand completely. He sat behind her, quietly doing the job he’d done many times before.

They sat quietly for a while, comforted by each other. His fingers gently ruffling her feathers, removing loose ones and massaging the muscle under them. She looked over her shoulder and lowered her wing a bit to see his face.

“I liked it earlier.” She admitted. “When you just called me Angel.”

For a long moment he stayed silent, still running through her wings. “It’s what you are, isn’t it?”

Mao grunted as Kirishima’s fist connected with her jaw, she stumbled a bit, giving him ample time to continue to charge her. But she curled her wings over herself, hardening them for protection. While he continued to wail down on her, she summoned a bright glowing bow.

Quickly expanding her wings, she blew Kirishima back a few feet, giving her enough room to draw back two arrows. She released the arrows, letting them fly aimed for his feet before rushing him. The glowing beams exploded as soon as they touched the ground, launching him into the air.

Mao grabbed the dazed boy out of the air and soared higher. Once she deemed them high enough, she let him go. She watched him fall for a minute before following after him in a nose dive. She closed her wings around herself and started to spin, drilling him into the ground.

“That hurt…” Kirirshima mumbled, in his self made crater.

“That was the point.” She flicked his forehead before taking his hand and pulling him up.

She smiled cheekily at him as her Angel form faded. Pretty gold tattoos decorated her neck and twirled around her arms before receding back to their usual spots- a golden stripe flowing down her spine and dots on her palms. The blue in her eyes dulled to a normal hazel and she was back to her everyday look.

In her civilian form, her grace and damned hid away, but without extending them out, she was only able to make use of her wings flight and nothing else of her quirk.

“Alright Mao-.” Aizawa started as they walked to meet the class.

“I swear on everything under the sun, if you don’t say go take a break, I will punt Mineta like a ball.” Mao threatened.

“Why me?” The small hero yelped.

“You’re closest.” She hummed with a shrug.

“That’s not very angel like.” A voice commented.

Turning around, everyone saw the 1-B was joining them on the field, Monoma in the front. “I get that a lot. It’s not my fault everyone assumes the white on my wings is authentic.”

“Oh is it not?” He asked, stepping close to her, smirking. “The colour of your wings doesn’t matter, you’d be just as beautiful.”

Suddenly he was blown back on his ass as she fluttered above him. “Flattery gets you nowhere, you’ll have to try harder than just flirting to copy my quirk.”

“Beautiful and observant.” Monoma acknowledged the fact that she noticed his hand moving towards her body.

Mao blinked at him, unimpressed before landing on the ground, a safe distance away from him and moved to merge with her own class while Aizawa and Sekijiro talked, complimenting and bragging about both classes and whatnot.

“Jeeze, Kirishima, lighten your gropes a bit, you turn her whole tit purple.” Mina joked, pointing out the purpling splotch on Mao’s breast.

“I didn’t grope her! Don’t say that, Bakug-!” Suddenly a fist connected with the back of his head, knocking him to the ground.

“Stop shouting.” Bakugo grumbled, trying to excuse his sudden abuse.

“That was unnecessary.” Mao huffed, stepping up to him. “He didn’t actually grope me, babe.”

Bakugo scoffed, trying not to blush. “I don’t care about that, he was being loud.”

“Liar, liar.” She reached up to flick his nose.

“Shut up.” He snagged her wrist before her finger could connect.

“You don’t tell me what to do.” She stuck her tongue out.

“You should put that away before you get yourself into trouble, Angel.” He leaned down towards her, still gripping her wrist.

Oh so this nickname is going to become a regular thing? She pressed herself closer. “What are you gonna do if I don’t.”

The two stood, still, literally inches from what they both wanted. And slowly the distance closed. Closer… closer…

“Bakugo, Mao.” Aizawa called making the two leap apart like they burned one another.

He looked over to the blushing students and simply raised an eyebrow at the tears of disappointment ran down half his other student’s faces. “You two will go up against Monoma and Itsuka.” He ordered, completely unaware of the scene that almost unfolded.

Bakugo grumbled before stomping out onto the field, willing the red in his cheeks to disappear. Mao pouted and followed behind him, using her wings to rush over to their side. So, so close to something finally happening, and it was ruined by Aizawa’s impeccable timing. Lovely.

She wouldn’t get the courage to get that close to his lips again for weeks.

“Hello, beautiful, I’m so glad we meet again.” Monoma greeted taking his place.

Mao ignored him and greeted Itsuki. “Is he always like this?”

“He does it to piss people off, which seems to be working. Your boyfriend hasn’t stopped glaring at him since we came over.” Itsuki snickered.

“We’re not dating.” They both informed, instantaneously.

“Oh how fortunate.” Monoma hummed. “Maybe after this we could get lunch together.”

“Alright let’s get this over with.” Mao lazily slipped into her heavenly form, ignoring his invitation. “I’ll handle Copy Cat and you take on Hulk hands.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” He scoffed, but nevertheless, listened to her order.

She fired five plain arrows at Monoma while Bakugo rushed Itsuki. Monoma dodged the sharp projectiles, giving the other two room to fight each other. Mao didn’t waste any time drawing back more light arrows and letting them fly at him.

The reason she decided to take Monoma herself was, she could easily fight him at a distance. He couldn’t copy her quirk through her weapons. As long as he didn’t touch her directly, everything was fine.

For several minutes, he dodged her arrows and she stayed in her place, firing. Bakugo and Itsuki threw each other back and forth, barely distracting Mao from her target practice. That is until Bakugo was flung through the dirt and Itsuki went to smash him like a game of wack-a-mole.

He raised his gauntlets to deflect the blow, but really all he’d do was bury himself into the ground. So, forgetting briefly about her own opponent, she put herself in between the massive hand and Bakugo.

“Well, hi. Fancy meeting you here.” Mao grunted as her wings domed over them, hardened.

Bakugo tsked and rolled his eyes. “Fuck off.”

She kicked off into the sky, out of the way of his exploding tornado aimed at Itsuki. As she fluttered, she narrowly avoided another large hand, trying to swat her out of the sky. She glared down at Momona, who smirked and swung his hand at her again.

“You’re already starting to piss me off.” She snapped, firing several arrows into his resized hand. But, aggravatingly, they did virtually nothing. She huffed, unaware of how he even managed to copy his partner’s quirk so she definitely didn’t know when or how long he had left with it.

Realizing she had no real way around the quirk, she bit the bullet and nosed dived at him. Mao soared under his fly swatter hand and snatched him off the ground, only flying him up a few feet before flipping upside down and flying towards the ground. Just before it was too late she released him and took a sharp turn to avoid colliding with the ground herself.

She landed on the ground gracefully, and waited to see if her plan worked. A plan that proved to just be wishful thinking as Momona rolled out of her feathered cocoon. Damn, he was fast.

“Such a nice quirk. Show me more over dinner sometime?” He asked, fluttering her wings.

She rolled her eyes, drawing arrows back. “I’ll go on a date with you if you can tell me my favourite colour. Otherwise, stop asking.”

“Green.” He blocked her arrows, with the copied quirk. “Yellow? Pink?”

“It’s the colour of my eyes, you wannabe bastard!” Bakugo shouted, exploding Monoma’s wing, easily blowing him back several feet. “Now stop flirting with my girlfriend.”

Mao was quick to fly him out of the way of Itsuka’s fist, warmth flooding her face at his words. First, he wasn’t supposed to know her exact favourite colour… yes it was the red of his eyes, but he wasn’t supposed to know that! Second-.

“I thought you two weren’t dating!” Monoma called, teasingly.

“We are now, fuck off!” Bakugo yelled as they floated. “If you want, I mean...”

“You did say my favourite colour, so I guess I owe you a date.” She grinned before spinning him in a circle, building momentum to launch him. “We’ll talk after that.”

Mao released his body and sent him hurtling at Itsuka before dodging another arrow. She dived at Monoma, scooping him up and flying them into the air. He did his best to flap his wings against her, as she carried them up, and it appeared to work when she released him.

He fell a few feet before catching himself, but she was quick to kick him in the chest, forcing him to barrel into the dirt. She waited a moment, counting in her head, his time limit should be up soon. A few more seconds, and she followed him down, ready to punch his lights out.

Monoma was quick to block her fist with her replica wings before slamming one into her, sending her rolling across the field. She groaned at the impact and wheezed as the wind had been knocked out of her.

“It’s past five minutes...” She muttered, before flying up out of the way of Bakugo’s body as Itsuka hit him back, aiming to have the two collide.

“I’ve been working on that, I can manage a little over ten minutes copying a quirk.” Monoma revealed, blocking Bakugo’s explosion aimed at his chest.

Mao scowled and summoned her bow, quickly firing a set of arrows at Itsuka. The two exploded on contact, and sent the large handed girl into the air. Mao rushed towards her, drill diving the girl, much like she did with Kirishima.

Panicking, Itsuka tried to block the impact with her hand, but really it only gave Mao a bigger surface area to slam into, sending her plunging to the ground. She flapped her wings, clearing the dust to find her opponent unconscious, thankfully.

As Mao fluttered in the air, an arrow clipped her cheek. Taking a deep breath she looked over to her quirk copy and glared. In a blink, she switched into her devil form, her wings darkened and looked to have thinned a bit. Her golden marks disappeared on her arms and were replaced with a smokey black colour fading up her forearms. The gold decorations across her neck turned into dusted gray details. Even the pretty blue of her eyes hazled into a sharp green colour.

She smirked, watching him hesitate for a moment, trying to mimic her again. Scoffing, she summoned her demon weapon; chains, and let them hang from her wrists.

“Yeah, this part takes a minute to get down.” She snarled as her chains wrapped around his ankles and she dragged him into the air.

She flew into the air, dragging him straight towards Bakugo. He jumped to grab Momoa and sent an explosion into his chest. The winged fake flew back towards Mao and she easily caught him around the waist with her chains and swung him down into a wall.

“You just don’t stay down do you?” Bakugo huffed, as Monoma pulled himself to his feet.

“I really don’t like it when people copy my shit.” She snarked, slowly descended and drawing her sharpened wings back, threateningly. While her angel wings were as hard as diamonds, her devil wings were sharper than steel.

“I think you just don’t like knowing someone is using it better than you are.” Monoma mocked.

She launched her wings forward, pinning both his to the concrete behind him. To be fair… she didn’t know that would work. She winced at the thought of cutting through her own wings.

“Your arrows explode, if you so desire, right?” He grunted through his pain, summoning his bow.

“Nice to know your memory is working just fine.” She taunted, pulling her wing from one of his, ready to strike his shoulder. “I can also fire multiple- since we’re stating facts everyone here knows.”

“I know.” He smirked. He kicked her in the stomach, freeing himself and his wings and quickly drew ten arrows before at Bakugo, who only stood feet away.

Cursing, she launched herself at him, just as the arrows were released and grabbed his shirt and retreated into the air. Bakugo grunted, startled by the sudden change in level and confused by the massive explosion her copied arrows caused. Even several yards in the air and away from it, they still felt the heat.

“Holy shit…” Bakugo muttered, eyes wide. “Why’ve you never done that before?”

“Because shooting more than like five in one spot is too fucking dangero- ah!” Mao cried out as something wrapped around her wings, pulling them together. The sudden pull of her wings jerked her to a harsh stop and sent Bakugo flying out of her grasp and further up into the air.

Another tug was issued and she heard the damage before she felt it. A loud ugly ripping sound. Something you'd hear in a horror movie when the killer has just thrusted a weapon through an unsuspecting victim chest, trying their best with the overdramatic sound of ripping flesh.

Then she felt it. The white hot pain in her shoulders. She didn't even register that she was plummeting towards the ground until a pair of arms intercepted her descent.

"Fuck..." Bakugo grunted as they rolled along the ground. "Mao, your wings." He stared wide eyed at the sight before them.

"My wings…" Laid on the ground, one an arms length away. Bloody and limp. No longer attached to a host.

Mao stared in shock and her pride and joy. Unmoving and dead in the dirt. She slowly looked up to the culprit, who honestly looked just as shocked as she did. Her wings slowly faded from his back, as time had run out on his copying.

Their eyes locked so intensely, Monoma didn't notice Bakugou's fist smashing into his jaw. Effectively ending the match. With teary eyes, she blinked her gaze back onto her dismembered parts.

"Angel…" Bakugo whispered when she slowly grabbed one of them.

"My wings…" She choked.

Touching them made it all real for her. The pain in her shoulder blades was true, her wings laying on the ground weren't an illusion. They'd really been ripped off.

Mao’s breath seemed to leave her body, even while she gasped for it. Her fingers clenched tightly around the feathers that once kept her warm. A flood of tears fell from her eyes and she was aware of the arms that gently encircled her, trying to ease her pain, but with sight of her feathers in front of her she couldn't be comforted.

It had been two week since Mao lost her wings and she still hadn’t spoken a word since being out on the field. She’d actually fainted moments after the realization of what had happened set in, and after that, the only people she’d actually seen were Recovery Girl and Aizawa. They’d deemed for no visitors, wanting to give her time before dealing with the questions and apologies and just everything she was going to have to manage.

Mao played with a feather she managed to retrieve before her wings were...disposed of. She’d cry but really, she felt drained of tears. Both adults told her to take all the time she needed, but if she stayed in this god damned room any longer she was going to throw herself out the window.

The knock on the door barely made her blink as Aizawa walked it. “How are you feeling to-.”

“Can I go back to the dorms?” Mao huffed, cutting him off.

He stared at her, her voice catching him off guard. “Mao-.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s to make sure I’m okay, because; no, I’m not. And I won't be until I can see my friends. Sleep in my own bed.” Mao said. “So please, let me go home.”

She could see the hesitance in Aizawa’s eyes, but knowing he wasn’t going to win this battle he sighed. “At least have Recovery Girl check your wounds and I’ll walk you back. Okay?”

She nodded, thankful that he didn’t try to put up a fight over it. She waited patiently while he retrieved the healing hero. She tried to wait patiently while she changed her bandages. She absolutely did not wait patiently to throw the dorm door open and run up to the lounge area.

There they were, her friends. The people that could make this loss bearable. Tears sprung to her eyes and she sniffled gaining everyone’s attention. Honestly, she wasn’t sure why it thumped her heart so much to see them, but it felt so good to see them.

“Mao!” Mina yelped, rushing to hug the now wingless girl. “I’m so glad you're okay…”

It was a hesitant hug at first, but once Mao squeezed the girl she was being gripped like she’d disappear. Once Mina released her, most of her class slowly followed suit. They were gentle and careful of where her wings were, and while she was thankful for it she didn’t want them to be so gentle with her… it was weird, she wasn’t used to it.

But nevertheless she enjoyed the soft time with her friends, for the next few hours. Few hours of watching the boys play video games, watch stupid movies they found on television, helping with the random cookies Uraraka decided to bake.

A few of hours of not seeing Bakugo what so ever.

Finally, when it got relatively late Mao stood. "Okay, I'm desperate to sleep in my own bed for once. So I'm going to shower and head to bed."

"Do you need help!" Mina jumped up to volunteer.

"Mina… my wings are gone… not my arms…" Mao raised a brow.

"Yes...but boobies." Mina stated as her reasoning.

Mao rolled her eyes as the rest of the class laughed at them. She took her time to shower, partially enjoying the relaxing warmth and partially trying to wait until everyone went to their rooms. She wasted ten more minutes glaring over her shoulder at the wounds on her empty back.

They glared back hard enough that she actually felt offended.

She slowly crept upstairs, hoping to find it empty and thankfully it was. Give it thirty minutes and everyone should be asleep. She flipped off the light that was left on, probably for her, and went to her own room. Stepping inside, Mao suddenly felt too small in it. All the extra space reminding her of what used to fill it. What she didn't have anymore.

She flopped down on her bed, hissing at the pain of her inflamed shoulder blades. She chuckled dryly. Another thing she could do-lay on her back for once in her life without awkwardly twisting and turning on her wings. Mao gave an honest effort in going to sleep but nearly an hour later, she still laid awake. Staring blankly at her ceiling.

Groaning Mao pulled herself out of the bed and left her screaming confinement of a bedroom. While she believed she was walking aimlessly, she found herself at a door. She cursed when she couldn't stop herself from knocking.

If she ran fast enough she could probably get away before he opened the door-.

"Mao?" A gruff voice greeted her.

"H-hey, uh Boomer boy." Of course she had to go to Bakugo. "Sorry I was just walking around, I couldn't sleep. My room is, like, too loud right now, well it's silent and empty. Which actually feels too loud, if that makes sense. It probably doesn't. Sorry, I'm just rambling. I didn't see you at all earlier, so I just thought I'd say goodnight. So, yeah, goodnight."

Mao spun around, blush burning into her cheeks. What the actual fuck was all of that. Never, ever in her entire friendship with this explosive idiot had she ever lost her shit like that. She grumbled to herself and started to walk away, but a warm hand encircling her wrist stopped her.

"There's blood on your shirt." He pointed out.

"Huh? Oh. Yeah, uh." She shrugged. "I took a shower and I couldn't really put new bandages on."

"Fucking idiot." He dragged her inside his room and pushed her towards his bed. "Take your shirt off."

"Oh wow, at least take me out to dinner before trying to get frisky." She tried to joke.

"You need to wrap your wounds properly or they'll get infected and then we have a bigger problem just me letting your wings get torn off." He grumbled, digging through his drawers.

"Wait, what?" Mao froze.

"Your shoulders will get infected." He repeated.

"No, after that, dipshit." She restated. He stiffened and didn't say anything, not that he needed to. She knew what she heard.

"You know this isn't your fault right?" Mao tried after a moment of silence. He stayed silent, but resumed his search.

"Bakugo." More silence.

"Katsuki!" She grabbed his shoulder but he turned around and slapped it away.

"Everyone keeps saying that's it’s not my fault!" He snapped, eyes hard with self blame. "That it could’ve happened to anyone, but… But we're supposed to look out for each other and I…" He stopped.

"And I what?" She glared, stepping closer to him. "And ‘I almost got blown up by arrows that would've done way more damage to me if they had hit me!’"

"But-."

"But nothing! You could have lost your life! My wings for your life?" She bargained. "Yeah, I'll take it."

Bakugo glared down at her, but she glared right back. He sighed and relaxed, and started pushing her to the bed. She smacked his hands away until he grabbed her wrists and headbutted her.

"Quit it!" He grunted.

"Owie." She whined as he pushed her to sit. "I won't take off my shirt until I hear you say it wasn't your fault."

"Shitty bird, being annoying as all hell." He grumbled grabbing the first aid kit from his drawer.

"Ah, flightless shitty bird now." She corrected, cheekily.

He glared at her and sat down next to her. "Yeah, not helping."

"Mmm, yeah, but really if you think about it. It was both our fault for not paying attention." Mao shrugged, tugging her shirt off and turning away from him.

"But, that's okay…" She hummed. "Shit happens, and that is okay."

Bakugo was gentle, pushing her bra straps over her shoulders and pulling off her poorly applied gauze. He winced at the angry lacerations that revealed themselves. He sighed and replaced her bandages correctly, slowly repeating her words in his head.

It was working for the most part but, not entierly. Bakugo leaned his forehead in between her shoulder blades and wrapped his arms around her middle. "I'm sorry."

"Where ya gonna take me on our first date?" She ignored his apology.

"What?" He asked, confused.

"You guessed my favourite colour, which thanks for exposing me like that by the way." She laughed, grabbing his hands.

"I didn't expose shit. You were fucking awful at hiding it. Especially when you and Pinkie giggle about it in class." He huffed squeezing her tightly.

"Yeah, and only she knew! You told the whole class." She laughed.

He gently thumped his forehead on her back, chuckling. "You have shit taste in colours."

"Oh hush, you know you love that I think about your eye colour so indeptly that it's my favourite."

"Yeah, yeah whatever you dumbass bird."

They slipped into comfortable silence and started to clean up. Bakugo tossed her bloody shirt into the trash before pulling off his own and giving it to her. After a bit of fight, she took and slipped it on before turning to leave, but she was halted when he snagged her hand and tugged her down to his bed.

"Bakugo?" Mao asked, falling onto his chest.

"Shut up and go to sleep, it's late." He grumbled.

“Even without my wings…” She whispered. "Can I still be your Angel?"

"It's what you are isn't it?"

#katsuki bakugo #bnha bakugou #deku midoriya #bnha fanfiction #oc #possible muti chap #heaven and hell #quirk

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retro-rezz-the-est · 5 years

Text

Opposites Attract pt. 3 (Balor/Reader smut)

Summary: Balor repays you back for your actions the previous night by a tenfold, just like he said he would…

Warnings: dom!Balor, bondage, tendril usage (goes along w/ the bondage and does other things ;3), food play, orgasm control, biting, Balor being a little shit lol and I think that’s it???

Word Count: 6869

Read parts one and two here

(Y/n): your name

Bolded words is Balor speaking/his thoughts.

Author’s notes are below the cut bc they’re a tad bit long.

(A/N: I know it’s been a minute but I finally got something out lmao XD. Thx to @writinglionqueen and @writing-reigns for listening to me rant about this & for giving me feedback. Also there’s a tad (hella) bit of demon tendril porn/usage so if that makes you squeamish I’m sorry???? It’s my first time writing smth like it and if you don’t want to read it, that’s fine ^^)

(A/N #2: This is also partially dedicated to @wrestlingxbalorxrollins, since Des loved the first 2 parts and had asked me if I ever planned on writing another part to this. This is for you, my fellow Balor Babe. I miss you and I love you <3)

~~~~~

Balor had woken up a little before you did, his black eyes shifting over to his right to admire your resting form. He lifted himself onto his elbow to properly run his eyes over you. You looked so innocent then, the natural light from outside highlighting your bare shoulder and glinting off of your hair. Everything about you in that moment was… strangely adorable to him, from the faint snoring noises you made to your naked body, hidden underneath his sheets.

Far from the vixen that had claimed him the night before.

A hand slid through your hair and you sighed in your sleep, moving closer to the man and entangling your legs with his once again. You nuzzled your cheek into his hand when he ran his palm over it and gave it a featherlight kiss, making Balor’s heart swell with affection.

You rolled onto your back just as his eyes roamed your body once more. Your now exposed breasts dipped with the falling of your chest and your nipples peaked from the chill of the air in the room. A sudden growl spilled from deep within his chest and he smiled, his pearly white teeth on display for his little corner of paradise to see.

You looked heavenly - deathfully - sinful, and exactly like his all at the same time. You looked...

…beautiful.

You were his and he was yours; you were his devilishly angelic, a double-sided goddess whom he’d let corrupt his very body and who had let him do the same to you the night before.

And he would do it again in a heartbeat.

The hand on your cheek began to trail down your jaw and drew light patterns along your neck. He moved down your collarbone and circled your breasts with the tip of his finger, making your breath hitch in your sleep. Lifting the satin blanket that covered your lower half, the demon’s eyes made their way down your stomach and lingered at the apex of your thighs.

Oh, what that deliciously sinful cunt does to him, even as you sleep…

Memories from the night before came rushing into his head then. The way your body had moved against his and the way you managed to coerce the big, bad Demon King to play nice and be so damn needy for you was unbelievable still.

Which made him love you all the more.

He ran his palm up and down the soft skin of your thighs, reveling in the feeling of you cuddling up against him more. Balor’s eyes began to close as he started to fall into a slumber when something in the back of his mind jumped out at him, something he had told you only a few hours before…

“Good, because in the morning, I’m gonna repay you back for everything ya just did to me by a tenfold, (Y/n). Just you wait.”

All other actions ceased as the hand on your leg paused its movements and his eyes snapped open. Everything in that moment just… stopped for him, giving him enough time to process the thought that just came to him.

And then, the flood came.

Idea after idea of how to punish you rushed through his mind. From infiltrating your dreamscape to give you a taste of what’s in store to pinning you down and making you cum constantly without any relief, the possibilities at his fingertips seemed endless. But, one lingered in the back of his skull that made him chuckle deeply, his chest rumbling.

Removing his hand from your leg, he sat himself up and turned you over onto your back. You still looked bewitching, ensnaring the Demon King’s very soul and toying with it from your slumber. You were the perfect Queen, darling and devilish in all the right places.

He was going to love corrupting the little innocence you had left.

With a twitch of his right hand, Balor watched as two inky black tendrils rose from the floor near the bed and moved over to him. He ran his palm over the one he was closest to, it feeling surprisingly firm despite the shadows pooling from where it emerged. They made their way over to you, easily sliding over the bedsheets and underneath your breasts, finally making their way to your wrists.

The tendrils elegantly wrapped themselves around them and your lower arms, crossing your wrists and attaching themselves to the two bedposts near your head. He summoned a few more with another flick of his wrist and began to run up your body.

Two more circled themselves around your ankles and had spread your legs, bending them at the knees before wrapping what remained of themselves around the remaining bedposts. The final two tendrils sheathed themselves underneath your breasts and squeezed firmly, coiling around your back and under the globes of your ass as well.

The demon stood up to properly admire his delicate handicraft and my, my, my, what a delicious snack you made. He felt himself get hard and nearly moaned outright at the sight of you.

You were all trussed up by the creations that he summoned with his powers, and that just made him feel all the satisfaction in the world. The tendrils seemed to look almost like a deep black velvet to the untrained eye but they were alive, and you were bound by them with only time and the demon above you as your only saviors and foes.

The sight of you like this was almost enough to make him cum right there on the spot.

He moved towards the foot of the bed like a predator stalking his prey, and he was hungry for you. His rough palms smoothed the skin of your knees as they made contact, making you squirm in the tendrils’ hold. His fingertips trailed down the skin of your calves and up your thighs for a few moments before they neared your slightly damp and inviting folds.

He stood between your legs on his knees, glancing up at your face briefly before sighing gratefully at your still closed eyes and the sound of light snoring. Pushing your thighs apart gently, he felt his beard brush against them as his mouth began to descend to the crux of your thighs.

Things were seemingly going well and good until a beast-like groan bounced off the air in the room.

Balor paused abruptly, coming back up to peer around and to find as to what the hell made that ridiculous sound. Seconds went by and the noise came up again but this time, it was quieter and more… concentrated. Looking down, he mentally slapped himself.

That’s me, isn’t it?, he thought, watching his stomach move with the rumble of the growl. Well, this body does need food constantly.

A light bulb shone in his head at the thought, making the Demon King chuckle darkly as he began to form a new plan. He moved from in between your thighs and made his way to the door, his sculpted ass facing you. Turning around, he gazed upon your form a final time before taking his leave, leaving you bound and “willingly” waiting for his return.

~~~~~

Your body’s natural alarm clock was the first thing that woke you up that morning, the second being the wondrously glorious smell of something cooking from the floor below you. You yawned and tried to raise your arms above your head to stretch, but you couldn’t.

...what the hell?

Slowly, you cracked your eyes open and trailed them up the length of your arm only to see this… thing… attached to it. Your heart beat louder as you began to struggle to get your arm free. Whatever it was that was wrapped around you looked as if someone cut off a strip of a black hole and pulled it tight around you.

You frantically turned your head to see the rest of them (what the hell even were they?) coiled around your other arm and down your torso. Your legs seemed to get the same treatment as well, seeing that you couldn’t move them at all.

What the hell?!

Wiggling slightly in your bonds, you called out, “Uh… Balor? You lurking out there somewhere? ”

The sounds of cooking downstairs dimmed before you heard the slow creak of someone coming upstairs. Your still sleep-groggy mind almost convinced you that the person was a threat, but it was by far more worse than that.

Standing in the doorway of the bedroom was a seemingly stark naked Demon King with a pink, frilly lace chef’s apron covering his front that read “I Put The Devil In Devil’s Food Cake” in deep red letters. It had heavily contrasted to literally everything about him: from the room he was standing in to his home to the way he dressed when coming out to the ring.

The fucker even had the audacity to look down at you in your… occupied… state and genuinely smile at you like nothing’s wrong with the situation at hand.

That little demon shitbiscuit.

“Ah, so the Sleeping Beauty has finally awoken. How’d ya sleep, love?”

“So, we’re just not gonna talk about the elephant in the room here…?”

He stood there looking slightly confused, but you weren’t going to fall for that easily.

“What ‘elephant’, (Y/n)? I have done nothing wrong.”

I’m going to murder him for this when I get out of these, you thought menacingly as you scowled at his false coyness and tried to slowly motion to your currently tied up state.

“What the absolute, actual fuck did you do to me, Balor?!”

Your tone shocked him a little, but he did nothing more other than chuckle at your fussing and your attempts to escape. His onyx eyes glinted in the light, making you shiver.

“Like I said before, I did nothing wrong. I’m just making light on the promise I made last night.”

Your curiosity peaked as he said this. Quirking your brow, you asked, “Th’ hell are you talking about? You didn’t make any pr-”

…

“Good,” he replied, chuckling at your response, “because in the morning, I’m gonna repay you back for everything ya just did to me by a tenfold, (Y/n). Just you wait.”

…

Shit.

If you were in a cartoon in that moment, your face would have gone sheet white. You chuckled nervously and he stared back at you, his usual devilishness back in his eyes.

“Finally, she gets it. How does it feel, darling, to be on th’ other side of the ropes?”

He began to stalk towards the end of the bed with you helpless but to just watch, his aura so demeaning and him that even with that stupid apron on, you felt kinda scared to shit. Climbing onto the sheets, he crept towards your face on all fours and ran his hands up your now trembling legs.

“You see, (Y/n),” he began, his eyes locked onto the tendrils that laced your legs to the bed, “I wasn’t jokin’ when I said that I was gonna repay ya for our… frivolous… activities last night, and I want to make you ache for me.”

His right hand moved to toy with one of them, dragging his finger over it lightly and it vibrating in return. That, quite frankly, shocked you and made you jolt, the vibration rolling up to the crease of your thigh.

“These things right here? These things holding you down? They’re mine. I summoned them, and they heed to my command. Now? I have ya in my grasp and I’m not gonna let you go for some time, love,” Balor spoke, his words making you feel like the weak prey to his dominating predator.

I guess this was how he felt last night, then.

His hands moved from your legs up your stomach and to your breasts, him grabbing both roughly and pinching your nipples. You wanted to arch your back more into his grip, but the tendrils holding you down prevented you from moving. All you could do with the sudden pleasure he was dealing out was scream.

And scream you did.

His chest rumbled with an unreleased glee as he watched you try and move closer to him. “Yeah, that’s it. I’m the one in control now. I hold th’ reins and you will listen to me and me alone until I say otherwise, love.”

His Irish accent kept getting thicker and thicker with each passing second and all it did was make the newfound arousal between your legs become more prominent. Moving closer to you, he removed a hand from your breast and leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“Now, (Y/n), you will beg for me, and I’m gonna keep on enjoyin’ watchin’ ya squirm.”

And with that, he took two of his fingers into his mouth and sucked on them. Hearing your breathing falter, his dipped them down to circle them around your clit. Balor smirked as he saw how you tried to buck your hips to, once again, try and obtain more pleasure from him. The tendrils all seemed to tighten around your limbs, causing you to hiss.

“Stay still, pet,” he warned, shooting daggers at you, “or there’ll be consequences.”

His fingers ceased their movements for a few seconds to emphasize his point and then continued, this time moving a bit further south this time to circle your hole before plunging the digits in without warning. You yelled out and forced yourself to lie dormant, and it grew to almost impossible levels when the bastard decided that his fingers weren’t going to be enough to satisfy you.

So, what does he do?

Why, he uses that sinfully dirty tongue of his on you, of course.

His moved back down to the edge of the bed, fingers still inside of you, and placed his mouth directly over your clit. You squeezed your eyes closed to help yourself out, but he wasn’t having it at all.

Taking his hand from your other breast and pinching your inner thigh, he growled, “Don’t ya fuckin’ dare close those eyes on me. I want to see the desperate look in my toy’s eyes as she begs me to let her cum.”

This went on for a few minutes, but those minutes seemed to stretch on for eons and eons. The pleasure spike in your abdomen continued to grow with every slight movement the demon between your legs made, whether it be from a crook of his fingers into your dripping core or from a blow of cool air to your aching bud.

He was relentless and soon enough, you were on the verge of letting go.

“P-Please, Balor…” you could barely form words because you were starting to get drunk on arousal.

“I’m sorry, what was that? I couldn't hear ya, love. You’re gonna have to speak up a tad.”

The cockiness in his voice was apparent as he just moved his head back down and continued slurping away at your cunt, the noises making you produce more of your slick.

“Please! I need to cum.”

He hummed, the vibrations going straight to your clit. “I suppose you’ve been a good enough girl for me to let you cum just this once…”

The fingers in you began to move faster and the tendrils squeezed a bit tighter. Most of your senses were being targeted and you couldn’t do anything to stop the incoming ave of pleasure from crashing into you. His beard scruffing along your wet folds once, twice, three times was enough to do you in.

And then he pulled away.

...wait, what? What happened? you pondered to yourself, still a little drunk off arousal. You heard a snap and the tendrils loosened their grip to where they first started from.

“Hey, what the hell?! You bastard, I was about to cum!”

“I told you I was gonna make ya ache for me, right? I said that I held the reins over ya, correct?”

You said nothing, still pissed at the now decaying orgasm fading from your veins.

“That also means I have control over when your orgasms too, sweetheart.”

His cat-like grin was met with your immediate protests of disbelief and anger. But before you could finish, he held up his finger and shushed you. He patted your leg ith his free hand and sucked your juices from his fingers, making your inner walls throb.

“Anyways, love, keep th’ bed warm for me? I’ve got breakfast on and this body needs food.”

You sputtered, “Excuse me? We’re not done here, Balor!”

“For the time being, we are,” he said, standing up and wiping his hand on the apron. Turning around, you got to get a glimpse of his toned ass as he made his way to the door. He glanced back at you a final time before chuckling again, shutting the bedroom door behind him with a soft click.

“Oh, it’s official now,” you murmured to no one. “I’m actually going to murder that sexy, cocky, teasing son of a bitch today.”

~~~~~~

The waiting was the hard part.

You knew he was coming back eventually - he had to - but after that door closed, time seemed to drag on for forever. There weren’t any clocks in his room and since you didn’t bring a watch with you the night before, you had no idea what time it was.

All that you did know was that he was still in the kitchen, most likely still in that stupid fucking apron and laughing to himself at your helpless expense. The smells wafting in from there and through the bottom crack of the door were lovely, however, and you couldn’t help but to drool a little at the thought of what he could cook up.

You tried to distract yourself from the still present arousal between your thighs by trying to rub them together, but that had failed miserably due to the fact that the shadowy tendrils around you would tighten their grip every time you did.

After what seemed like nearly a million years of waiting (and many more failed attempts to try and get yourself off), the doorknob finally jiggled a bit and Balor strode in, arms crossed behind his back and a grin on his face. The apron was gone and his bare… everything… was on display for you to admire. You inhaled, feeling your heartbeat spike as his aura filled the room around him.

“I see you’ve been busy in here, (Y/n),” he began, his dark eyes trailing up your body to your flushed face. “Are ya alright?”

Any other day, you would gladly tolerate his smugness. It was annoyingly hot, after all. But today, it just seemed to piss you off to a very high extent…

… with the added “benefit” of getting wetter than before.

“You know if you asked me that this morning, I would’ve said that I was lightly pissed, but fine nonetheless. Now, I want to actively strangle with one of your dress ties.”

Balor laughed at that, the noise warming you to the bone like a nice drink on a cold night. He walked closer to the bed with his hands still behind his back and stood to your right, eyeing the scattered pieces of your dress from the prior night lingering on the floor space around him.

“I do love this li’l contrast of yours, however. It’s… very you, in a sense.”

“... the hell do you mean?”

Continuing, he added, “I mean everything you do - are - is flawless. Ya managed to bring one of th’ most dangerous men alive down to his knees and made him beg at your feet for release and just mere hours later, you’re bound to his will; my will. My li’l toy made to please me however I’d like.”

The silence that followed was deafening, the only noises being your collective breathing and your heartbeat in your ears.

“I’m gonna make ya want me, darlin’, and this is gonna be a great way to start.”

He moved his hands from behind his back, and…

Oh, fuck me.

In his right hand was a bottle of chocolate syrup and in the other, a can of whipped cream, caps gone and ready to be used. You audibly gulped, your legs trembling from the new tingling sensation you were getting.

He chuckled darkly at your newfound expressions, his eyes swimming with curiosity and lust that made their blackness look even darker up close. Setting both of them on the dresser next to the bed, he ran a hand up your chest and towards the tendril that wrapped itself around your breast.

“Where’d all tha’ confidence from earlier go? Melted away, is that right? You acted all high and mighty before, but you really just wanted to be fuckin’ owned, didn’t ya?”

You so wanted to hit him when he cracked that slight grin but you physically couldn’t. So, you just sat there and let his ministrations continue.

Flicking his wrist once, it tightened its grip once more and stayed there, not letting up like before. Balor twisted your nipple harshly before swallowing your cries with a rough kiss, stealing the air from your lungs. He bit your bottom lip to make you gasp and he slid his tongue against yours. The two of you melded together perfectly, which is why you whined and strained your head closer to his own when he pulled away.

“Now, now, sweetheart,” he chided, “I don’t wanna get too carried away here. The show might be over before it even begins.”

He turned his attention back to the toppings that sat waiting on his dresser. He picked them up and turned back to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. You remained silent as he approached you, your words failing you.

“I was gonna use these to top off the wonderful breakfast that I made, but I figured tha’ I could use them to top off something more worthwhile…”

Your eyes flicked from the syrup in his left hand to the whipped cream in his right and back again, still unable to form words. He moved the two closer to you and kneeled down to whisper in your ear.

“So, which one’ll it be, (Y/n)? Left or right?”

He asked you so softly that you almost didn’t hear it, but you knew it was coming. You could almost see him spraying the whipped cream around your nipples and sucking it off each one as if he had all the time in the world, savoring the taste of the sugar on your soft skin and spreading it around the two globes.

The chocolate syrup didn’t fare you much better, as it too infiltrated your mind with filthy thoughts. You saw him spreading it around your mouth and kissing you, licking the sweet from your lips and trailing his now chocolate coated ones down your neck to bury his teeth into the skin.

It was all a little too much for you to handle with his gorgeous (and quite naked) body standing mere inches away from you. Your cheeks flushed with more heat as more fantasies came to mind, Balor clearly amused by the show.

He asked you, “What’s th’ matter, love? Cat got your tongue? I thought tha’ was my job.”

You whimpered and flexed your hips, attempting to look away from his lustful gaze, nut he wasn’t having it.

“If ya don’t choose now, I will, and ya won’t like what I have in store for ya. I don’t wanna punish you this early into this li’l game of ours,” he whispered again, toying with your earlobe with his teeth. “That’ll jus’ take the fun out of things.”

Swimming past all of the erotic thoughts that clouded your mind, you were finally able to move your mouth and form some semblance of words.

“I… I want-”

“Again with this meek voice of yours, (Y/n)? We both know you’re much louder than that.”

Images of you and Balor from last night popped into your head. At this point, you felt as if something had touched your face, it would burst into flames immediately because of how hot your skin felt. Still, you persisted, but louder than before.

“I… I choose the left option…”

Another smile made its way to his face, brightening the atmosphere in the room a little more. “Very nice. Now, how do good li’l toys talk to their masters?”

As if you couldn’t get any more heated, here you fucking are.

His tone made you feel so small, and yet the clear arousal in his voice marked how much he wanted you.

“I choose the chocolate first,... my King.”

The demon’s pearly whites came out to play as he growled, “There ya go, sweetheart.”

Standing up to his full height again, he set the can of whipped cream down and tilted the syrup bottle over his mouth, pouring a little inside. You could see his half-hard cock bounce against his thigh as he moved around the bed to climb back between your legs and kissed you. The sweetness of the chocolate on his tongue mixed with the taste of his mouth made you moan, sliding yours against his to relish in it.

The two of you continued this dance for a number of minutes, you both savoring the taste of each other as he periodically swirled more of the chocolate around your lips and mouth with his tongue. He licked his lips when he moved away, feeling you shudder as you watched him.

He gripped your jaw and tilted your head to the side to drizzle the chocolate on your neck. He didn’t know why, but watching the dark substance spill over your skin and pool in the dip of your collarbone while you submitted to him did something to him. It made him hungry, ravenous even.

It made him hungry for you.

But before he moved down to lap at the sweet, he said, “I want ya to keep your eyes on me th’ entire time. If ya look away for even a second, I’ll stop and make you wait here for as long as I want ya to. Is that understood?”

He was met with your response followed by a swift nod. “Yes, my King.”

“Good girl.”

He dove down and began his journey to mark you. He placed featherlight kisses up and down your neck, making you squirm and whine his name.

“Balor, my King, please…”

“Patience, little girl,” he responded, continuing to eat the chocolate from your skin. He scraped at your skin with his teeth and you hissed, feeling the small sharp points pass. Sucking your pulse into his mouth, he bit down ruthlessly and worried it with his teeth until a dark bruise formed.

He came back up to admire his work and you could see something growing in those eyes of his. The process repeated as he moved down and around the column of flesh and you kept on yelling out into the air, helpless to his touch.

Lick, suck, bite.

Over and over and over again.

He didn’t stop until all the chocolate on your neck and collarbone were gone and in their place were hickies and bruises that varied in size and shade. The thin coat of his saliva shone dimly in the light and your body still twitched in anticipation for what was to come. You heard the bottle’s contents being poured onto your breasts, the sticky syrup making your nipples perk up.

You could feel the aura in the room bend and shake with the cackle he let out. “I wonder if these’ll taste as sweet as that cunt of yours does…”

He looked directly in your eyes as he said this and your breath stopped. He looked so deep in lust that he was very much drowning it, and you weren’t complaining one bit. His tongue came back out to play and swirled the chocolate around your left nipple, you trying to arch your back to push his mouth closer.

Holding your right breast up, he drew his knee in and ground it against your folds, making you scream suddenly at the dual pleasure and thank Balor mentally for living somewhere with no neighbors who’d think you were getting murdered. He moved on to your other nipple when the first on was clean of chocolate, sucking it into his warm mouth and biting down on it.

“Fuck!” you cried out, feeling your orgasm fastly approaching. You tried to grind your folds on the leg between your own but he pinched your side to cease your movements.

“Ya only get to cum when I say you can, (Y/n), or I’m gonna punish ya,” he snarled. “This is your second strike, love. Don’t make me do this again.”

You haven’t seen him bare his teeth at you like that before so instead of barking back with your own response, you decided to nod to avoid that confrontation. Both of your nipples were good and puffy by the time he finished working on them, complete with a matching set of hickies on your breasts to match the ones on your neck.

The way his mouth followed the streams of chocolate syrup that he poured down your abdomen and around the tendrils that held you was hypnotising, and watching him slide down to gaze upon your dripping slick even more so. It was like watching him crawl down and slide into a wrestling ring to face an opponent.

Neither had ever failed to make you wet, though.

Your upper body felt colder without his to cover it, but you were pretty sure that you would get a whole lot warmer soon. The demon poured chocolate over two of his fingers and pushed them into your mouth, your eager tongue ready to clean them off.

Running his beard up and down your inner thighs, he admired the slick that pooled in your folds; that was so ready to be tasted by him. The hairs on his chin made slight burns on the soft skin but you didn’t care: you were ready to feel his mouth on you again.

The sudden snapping of his fingers startled you, you seeing another tendril seem to faze through the bed and perk up next to him. It was the same shade of black as the ones that held you, but this one was much thinner than them. It moved towards you when Balor flicked his wrist and slid up your leg, placing itself directly over your clit.

The bottle of chocolate landed on the floor with a thud and he slipped his fingers from your mouth, drawing them over your lower lips and hearing you groan. He then leisurely slid the two digits into your sopping heat, making you curse and bite down on your lower lip.

That’s when the vibrating started.

The tendril on your clit began to vibrate at a very low level but you could still feel it. You jerked, still held in place by the larger tendrils.

“Shit, damnit, Balor!”

A laugh erupted from his body as he watched your head shake back and forth. “My, my, love, what a mouth you have on ya.”

His fingers curled with every pass into you, catching that one spot in you over and over again. “S-Screw you… Balor…”

“Well, is that any way to speak to your King?”

He feigned his shock with a dropped jaw and leaned back, going back in quickly to join his tongue with his fingers. The tendril on your clit increased its vibrations and you bucked your hips as best you could, the tendrils around you not tightening this time. He obnoxiously slurped at the slick that poured from your cunt, cupping your ass with his free hand and groping one of your cheeks.

You threw your head back when he plunged his tongue into you to get a better taste and he moaned at the combined taste of the leftover chocolate on his tongue and the sweetness of your juices.

“As if your cunt couldn’t get any sweeter, I get proven wrong yet again.”

Balling your hands into fists, you shut your eyes abruptly as to try and not cum so quickly. And that was your final mistake.

The vibrations on your clit seemed to stop just as quickly and the fingers in you were drawn out, and you opened your eyes to see a heated Balor glaring back at you.

“What did I tell you earlier about your eyes, (Y/n)?” he asked, the gruffness in his accent making you like a small mouse.

“You told me… you told me to keep my eyes on you at all times…”

“And what did you just do?”

You felt like you were being berated by a parent in that moment. “... I took my eyes off of you.”

“That’s right, darlin’. That was your third strike. Now, what should I do t’ punish you?”

He seemed to be asking you that question, so you responded with the first answer that came to your head.

“Whatever you wish, my King.”

That seemed to peak his interest which had also made the room’s aura grow darker despite the light coming through the windows.

I’m gonna take advantage of that one, he thought, standing back up to grab the can on whipped cream and shaking it. He sprayed a generous amount on your folds and took the chocolate syrup bottle, drizzling some more on top of the whipped cream. Flicking his wrist again, the tendril on your clit began to vibrate and sped up to an eleven.

He dove down to lick up the mix of sweet between your thighs and gripped your ass with both hands, making sure to get every last drop of you. He murmured, “So creamy,” before looking right back up at you and licking a stripe up your folds.

“I can feel ya tensin’ up on my tongue, love. Just cum for me. Cum for me now,” he growled into you and sucked your folds into his mouth.

That wave you’d been holding back since earlier crashed back into you and you succumbed to the feeling of your release. You shook in the tendrils’ hold and gasped, trying to suck the air that was punched out of you back into your lungs.

Balor chuckled into you, the added vibrations making you shudder, but he didn’t stop. As your slick poured out of you, he buried his face deeper into your cunt. You could see that his beard was glistening from you and his cheeks were red but he kept going.

Pleasure ran through your veins once more and soon enough, you were right back on that edge again, ready to fall. He slurped up the remainder of the sweet toppings from you and stuck his fingers back in, ignoring your cries.

“Fuck, my King, I’m gonna… shit!”

“Yes, my love. Cum for me again like th’ good li’l pet I know you are.”

His fingers were so long and seemed to touch every bit of your walls simultaneously and along with the intenseness of the vibrations to your hard nub, you quickly came again. You screamed out loud and panted, trying to catch your breath once again but Balor wanted you,

And what he wants, he takes.

Slowly, he drew his fingers from you and spread them, watching your juices catch the morning light. He moved his hand down and began pumping himself, mixing your slick with his pre-cum as he watched you.

Oh, how you wished to get that cock in your mouth again, to feel its heavy weight on your tongue and to feel it stretch your throat to its limit. You wanted to swallow him and all that he gave you down like a good girl. You wanted to please him.

He shuffled up onto his knees and his cock bounced with his movements. You were almost drooling at the moment and nearly choked on your own spit when he rubbed the head of it through your folds, catching it on your clit occasionally.

Snapping his fingers with his free hand, the tendrils that wrapped themselves around your legs and the one lingering on your clit dissipated into thin air. Your legs fell flat and you sighed at the blood flowing through them again. Balor grabbed both of your ankles and moved them to bring your knees to your chest, folding you in half.

You weren’t ready for the breach of his cockhead into your hole, nor were you prepared for him to enter you so quickly. With a snap of his lithe hips, he filled you completely and your mouth fell open.

He rutted into you like an animal, striking your cervix with almost every thrust. His pelvis started to grind down on your clit and you whimpered, your only other option being to move your body along with his. Your folds were puffy and you continued to leak slick that coated his cock.

He saw you thrusting your hips back against his and said, “Aww, look at ya, so needy for my cock to fill ya and claim you as my own. Just desperate to cum even though you already came twice in a row…”

“Yes, my King,” you replied, whining when he slowly ground his hips on yours. “I’m your greedy little girl.”

His hand dug into the skin of your calves as he pushed them towards you. His free hand moved to your breast and twisted your nipples again, the pain jolting through you like lightning and making you wetter with each passing second. Your vision started to get cloudy but you kept your eyes trained on his, oh so lost in the desire.

He slapped the side of your breast to keep you focused and did so with the other, going back and forth between the two until he could feel the heat radiating off of the flesh. You were so close to cumming again (you didn’t know how in the fuck your body was able to orgasm so many times in that short of a time period) but you just needed that final push.

Luckily for you, Balor was right behind you and rubbed at your clit with the rough pad of his thumb. The look in his eyes was desperate and needy and you could tell that yours looked the exact same way, maybe even worse. With a few more rough thrusts and sweeps of his thumb, you both fell over the edge with a shout, him holding onto your legs for dear life.

Your combined pants fell heavy on the air and you could smell the familiar scent of sex wafting. The remaining tendrils around your torso and that held your wrists together faded into nothing, and you fell to the bed with a exhausted “oof”. Rolling onto your side, you could feel the bed shift and him fall in line right behind you, his abdomen rippling with his breath.

You felt the sudden movement of fingers hit your side and move down to your sensitive lips. Fingertips brushed past your clit and dipped into the dripping mess of your and his cum between your legs.

“N-No, Balor, please,” you whined, attempting to move away from his touch. “It’s too much for me.”

“You can and will cum one more time for me, (Y/n). Ya don’t wanna disappoint your King now, would ya?”

Heavens, no, you thought.

His other arm slid around your waist so he could drag you closer to his waiting mouth, kissing you softly. Your tongues danced with each other and you could still taste your juices on him as he plunged his fingers back into you, pushing more cum out of you with each pass. This time around, it was much slower. Less fast pace and more focused on targeting that pleasure you were seeking again.

Turning your head to look at him, you saw his eyes. Those black cesspools held so much in them, but one thing’s for sure: they held a care and love for you. He needed you to cum, and you couldn’t deny him any further with the pleasure building deeper in your body.

Pumping your hips with his fingers, he slipped a third in and that broke the damn for you a final time. You broke the lip connection and gaped, no sound coming from your mouth. Limbs tightening, you flooded his hand with your cum and fell back onto the sheets contently. You didn’t know when you fell asleep again but you did, curled up against Balor with his fingers still inside you.

Breakfast can wait, he thought, brushing your hair away from your sweaty face. Your eyes grew soft and your hands still found their place where his arm met your hip. She’s too cute to wake up now.

And so deliciously full of sin.

You were his double-edged Queen, and you were his.

Quite literally, you two were made for each other.

~~~~~

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dongiovannaswife · 5 years

Text

400 followers!

Count your last blessings; Don!Giorno Giovanna x Donna!Reader

summary: that's how Mafia works (literally). When the union of two gangs brings the interest and discomfort of a traitor, Giorno and (Y/n) won't doubt on showing who rules the underworld.

Warning: a bit of torture, blood, language, death of a character.

Side note: this is the milestone for the 400 followers! Thank you so much to all the people who's there 💕 I wanted to write a power couple for this one and since I've been flirting with this idea for MONTHS I finally decided to write it. Special thanks to @naranciabestboi for encouraging me! 💞 you're an angel.

Feedback is always appreciated.

The room was dark, the only dim light illuminating the unconscious man on the chair, his arms and legs attached to the wood by chains, his head hanging in an angle that advertised how much his neck would hurt when he woke up.

Or when they decided to wake him up. And not in a sweet way.

In the shadows, sitting in a box alongside Alessandro Esposito, who toyed with a cigarette in one hand and a lighter in the other, was Guido Mista, his own gun on his hand, lazily pointing at the target in the chair. Not so far from the gunslinger was Pietro Li Fonti, who drank now and then from the vodka bottle on his hand; Panacotta Fugo stood at the other side of the room, the back of the man on the chair facing him, Fugo was close to the door, having been told to stay there until they came back.

Out of the creepy dark room, besides the door, with the light being almost blinding, waiting patiently stood Giorno Giovanna; the slim boy who took over Passione 12 years ago now gone as the tall man towered besides everybody, the only thing one could recognize from his old self was the braid. The white suit hugged his figure, making him look like an angel. A powerful and dangerous angel who could become the emperor of the world if he wanted. Still, he choosed only one country. And that's how he would stay.

His eyes held the same calm from before, a shadow of maturity making the edges darker, almost a deep green.

The door at the other side of the corridor was opened by the hand of a tiny boy, Paolo Mazzi. This boy was the definition of «appearances can be deceiving» even with his 145 centimeters he was as deadly as the long dead Risotto Nero. His age wasn't in correspondence with his height: 28 years old. This man was the bodyguard of the woman who appeared carrying the authority and power on her shoulders as if she was born with them; truth be told, she was. Even before she was born her father had already planned her life as the donna of the gang; Uroboros. Second most powerful gang in all Italy. Dressed in a black cocktail dress, high heels on and that mysterious glance dragging his attention instantly, the friendly nod from Paolo almost unnoticed as she got closer, her heels sounding in the scary silence of the long abandoned factory.

"Don." She muttered sweetly, the intimidating glance now gone as her eyes held a deep admiration and love.

"Donna." He answered in the same tone, closing the space between them, his hand found his way on her waist, the fabric of the dress cold against his big calloused hand. A kiss exchanged between the lovers; lingering, sensual but still loving. Despite the way they met, the situation was far from the one from that time and now, Passione and Uroboros had plans to unite with the marriage of the leaders.

However, someone wasn't pleased with this, the alliance of the two most powerful mafias in all Italy wasn't a good augury for someone who planned on taking over the second most powerful. Uroboros didn't had half of the power Passione did, but it certainly had potential. Even more than Passione.

Godfrey Alighieri was the poor bastard on the chair. The traitor who was trying to drag the most trusted men on Passione and Uroboros at his side, the man who slept on the chair.

The door sounded with three knocks in a certain rhythm and Fugo, after confirming the message, opened the door.

The first one on entering was (Y/n), Pietro nodded with a genuine smile, Alessandro waving distractingly at the two leaders. Her response was a nod, the heels alerting of the way she was taking. Following close behind her was Giorno; Mista nodded and Fugo gave him a handshake. As Paolo entered, being the last one after confirming the other guards outside, the door closed; Fugo and him stood at the door, guarding.

Giorno watched as (Y/n) toyed with the gun attached to her thigh, taking off the security on the gun, her eyes turning a bit to find his already fixed in her. Even in the dark, the diamond as eyes of the don shone bright. Enough to let her see them. Giorno nods and Paolo whistles, playfully commenting. "Get a room, you two."

Mista snorts and (Y/n) looks back at Paolo, a smile making it's way on her lips. The gun's suddenly on the air, pointing at the ceiling. "Time to wake him up."

The gun ends up pointing at his knee. She pulls the trigger.

Godfrey Alighieri wakes up with a scream as the pain sends a shot of adrenaline through his system. Everyone stays silent.

"Buongiorno, signore."

Godfrey growls, trying to bend over to check on his injury, however, Megadeth controls his spine, making him stay still.

"I've heard the rumors that came true." She says, the gun back at her thigh. "Did you knew about them, my dear capo?"

Godfrey snarls, whispering something indulging her mom. "Mhm, I knew you would say that. So, I brought with me your biggest fear; Pietro Li Fonti. Do you remember him? Yes, just like you and everyone in this room, he's a stand user. His stand has always terrified you. You told me that after he joined, remember?" She does some gestures, "he's a monster, how could someone's soul be so putrid to the point their stand can transform blood into acid?" Pointing at him, the woman sends a cold glare at the brunette man. "Now, this isn't about your comfort. Right now, you're wishing death, a quick, painless death. But truth be told, you damaged the honor of one of my men."

Megadeth, (Y/n)'s stand, forces Godfrey's arm bones to brake.

As Godfrey screams, she keeps talking. "You'll see, Godfrey, every since I was a little girl I've been around the family business. The first time I saw my dad torturing a man I was (…) seven. When I asked him why he was cutting off that poor man fingers, he looked at me like the next pray of a predator. Then he looked at me like he did always and explained to me the thing that would change my mind and perception of Uroboros: honor. We're men of honor, Mr. Godfrey. And you killed one of my men when he refused to join your stupid rebellion."

The screams echoes in the room as Godfrey's spine broke under the influence of the stand. "Now, now." A piece of paper ended on his mouth as a ball, forcing back his screams. "You didn't just went with killing him fast and without suffering; you asked his family for money and silence; you told his husband to don't say anything to me, you asked for a money he didn't had and even if he did the impossible and actually paid, you killed him."

Godfrey tries to breath right, to process her words and talk, but the pain was suffocating, the paper on his mouth making his tries to breath almost impossible.

With an exuberant force, and the pain sending a jolt of adrenaline to his system, Godfrey manages to throw the ball out of his mouth, looking up at her, the man's eyes fill with tears and regret. "Please, heal my spine. Y-you can do it! Your stand is capable of doing it."

Turning a strand of her hair, she seems bored but her voice and the glance she throws at him it's enough for Godfrey to feel like he's going to shit his pants.

"It can. But I don't want to."

Godfrey's face turns red with anger, his stand out in the blink of an eye; she's on his range. Godfrey's Muse launches at her.

But stops midway.

"Your Muse is useless against Megadeath." It's a death statement, a letter sent from hell and signed by the devil itself.

Suddenly, a raspy and almost scary voice sounds from the dark as a man, tall and blond, steps out of the shadows.

"All your efforts are useless."

Giorno Giovanna.

He steps behind her, his big hand resting on her waist; pressing a kiss to her head, he still glares at the scared man on the chair. As he speaks, the aura around him turns darker at every second and Godfrey almost forgets his legs, arms and spine are broken, his body being held at the chair by the little and lethal stand of the donna.

"Not only you killed one of her men, you also betrayed her trust. Our trust."

Stepping in front of him, the Don's eyes seem gold, his own stand present. "Your actions aren't based on truth, not even in evil; you're trying to be something you can't be, something you will never get the chance to."

Godfrey laughs, a wholeheartedly laugh. He's about to speak when a string of blood runs down his lips, following his jaw.

When the liquid reaches the floor, the cement underneath it melts; it's not longer blood but acid.

Pietro Li Fonti grips the vodka bottle, "I paid you and you still killed him."

Mista places a hand on his shoulder, Pietro looks at him with so much sadness and grief the gunslinger gifts him a knowing smile. "Let them start, then he's all yours. (Y/n) said that, remember?"

Pietro nods, his red hair covering his eyes. Party Poison no longer on Godfrey's system.

Giorno looks back at his fiancée, throwing an accomplished glance. She nods, now standing besides him.

With a smirk and his voice turning teasing, he asks. "What should we do with him, Donna?"

She sends a wink on his direction, then her eyes are fixed on Godfrey's forehead as his bones on that area start deforming until the skin breaks and the Uroboros sign stands proud; Godfrey can't talk, his jaw is closed, forced to be like this until they finish.

"What we do with traitors."

#thank you! 💞#giorno giovanna x reader #fem s/o #sfw #sensitive topic #don giorno #jjba vento aureo #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyō na bōken #scenario #not a request #follower milestone #theres a lot of references please find them

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