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The Sun Eats the Moon

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

(Warnings: noncon, dubcon, rough sex, oral sex, bullying, harassment, one mention of choking, penetrative sex, afab!reader, coercion, forced relationships, implied baby trapping, pregnancy kink(?))

Synopsis: Your boss takes on Gojo Satoru as his newest client. Much to your relief, he doesn't seem to recognize you.

WC: 9.4k

𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓

You wanted to quit the second you read the name.

You should have. It would have been so easy to hand in your two weeks, tell your boss that you just couldn't. Or maybe you could have convinced one of the other paralegals to take your place.

It's pathetic. Almost a decade had passed and you still felt yourself slink into the girl you once were, rolling under his thumb, utterly helpless. You should be better than that. You worked so hard to reach where you are now.

You were different now, you told yourself over and over again. You were older, smarter. Besides, it'd been a decade, would he even remember you?

It's Higuruma who notices your restless fingers. You shouldn't have underestimated him, despite how exhausted he looks, nothing goes past your boss. He asks about it when you two are seated in a beige room, waiting for the client.

"Is everything alright?"

You're still staring out the window. How high were you? 16 stories, maybe even higher. Resentment, you can feel it rise up your throat, build throughout your body. Of course, he has fancy cars, pretty buildings, and limitless money. Men like him will never know what it's like to have nothing. All men were born equal. What a fucking joke.

Higuruma shifts, and you jolt out of your thoughts. "Yes," you console, "apologies, I'm just tired."

The lawyer hums, and you're not sure if he believes you or not. Before he can say anything, the frosted doors open. The rest of the legal team comes in, sitting at the long table you and Higuruma inhabited.

He comes in last. He'd always had a liking for theatrics.

Not much had changed within a decade. He was taller, bigger. He'd switched out of his high school uniform, opting for something more business-friendly. He still made heads turn. Became the center of attention.

It's his smile that throws you. Sincere, real. Lingering on his face like extravagant jewelry. Hard not to notice.

You react better than you anticipated. You don't shake or tremble or cry when he passes you. You just squeeze your fists, bunching your skirt in your palm. It helps.

He sits down, right at the end, so everyone can see him. One foot elegantly crossed over the other. When he tilts his head, his soft white hair threatens to shift over brilliant blue eyes.

"Well, I'm sure you don't need me to explain why we're all here." A few chuckles resonate from the small group. "Let's just do our best and hope nothing gets too out of hand."

His eyes slide over to meet yours, and you steel yourself for his eyes to widen. For something wicked and cruel and nasty to sink into his face.

Nothing.

Gojo Satoru maintains that same smile. The blaring sun. Painfully innocent. His gaze lasts barely a second before moving to the next face, and the next, and the next.

"I look forward to working with all of you."

𖤓

If you could describe Gojo Satoru in one word, it would be: celestial.

He's like a shining star. Brighter than the sun. Everywhere he went, he was bound to attract attention. Much like how the Earth is drawn towards the sun, people are drawn towards Gojo Satoru. It's the natural order.

But, if an insignificant planet resists the Sun's gravitational force, it'll get crushed. You learned this the hard way.

Gojo had always been in your class for years. The third year was no different. Despite the commonality, you two never talked to each other. You had no reason to. Until the vending machine gave you two cartons, and you suddenly remembered from an overheard conversation that Gojo liked chocolate milk too.

"Want it?" You hold it out to him during lunch break. He was in the middle of a boisterous conversation with his friend. They did intimidate you, but you had no reason to be scared. It's not like they were bullies.

Gojo's sunglasses dip down. He eyes what you're holding in your hand, before his gaze drifts back up to you.

"The machine gave me extra," you supply, "do you want it?"

"Oh, sure," he says after a moment. Your hands brush. "Thanks."

You nod, and then you walk back to the cafeteria. It was meaningless. A favor between acquaintances. He was helping you more than you helped him. You didn't want to carry chocolate milk around in your backpack. You forgot about the interaction within a few hours.

𖤓

The meeting ends hours later. When you stumble home, it's barely evening but you can still feel the stress creeping through your legs and arms.

You go straight to your laptop. Fumbling through the keyboard, desperate, searching.

He's famous. Of course, he is. In his mid-twenties, but already a multi-millionaire. The head of an extremely elite family. Your eyes scan picture after picture after picture. Photos of him drinking with models in skimpy bikinis. Fancy cars. Huge houses. Private jets. Gojo Satoru: the man behind Gojo Co., Gojo Satoru and supermodel Menza hinted at relationship, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru.

You pull away when it starts to burn, when the rage and sorrow become too much. He has everything. Everything he could want. He made you go through hell for months, and yet he never got punished for it. The universe rewards him with lavishness you'd never be able to touch.

It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fucking fair.

Through your blinds, the sun happily shines.

𖤓

You don't notice it until it becomes painfully unbearing.

Gojo calls you by your name now (until that day you bet he didn't even know you existed). He's like a ghost, constantly appearing out of nowhere to sling an arm around your shoulder, eager to chase off any of your friends to talk to you about things that don't matter.

He constantly offers to walk you home (and then Gojo ignores your refusals and does it anyway). It stays like that for a few days, never bordering beyond friendliness. You think he's harmless. Maybe he just hasn't had someone genuinely do a nice favor for him. Besides, you're flattered by the attention. Even you can be swayed by the pull of Gojo Satoru. It feels nice to be wanted.

You reason it'll just be for another week. A week later, you two will be nothing but acquaintances, sometimes exchanging quick smiles during class.

It doesn't truly dawn on you as to what he's doing until he comes out and says it.

"What?" Because you must have misheard him.

"We should," he says, not even bothering to repeat himself, "I mean, we're practically dating already. Let's just make it official."

You stare at him. As always, he's utterly beautiful. The light of the setting sun makes his skin glow gold. Whenever he's walking you home is one of the rare times he removes those sunglasses. His eyes are like jewels, pretty things that you wish were yours.

You laugh. It's high and panicky because you still think he's joking. He doesn't laugh with you. You stop.

"Oh-oh, I'm sorry Gojo-I wasn't-I didn't think. I'm just not...interested in dating anyone right now. It's not you! I think-I think you're great, but it's just the wrong time, and school is getting so much busier and-" you keep rambling, coming up with excuse after excuse because you're convinced Gojo would cut you off with an awkward laugh, tell you it's fine.

He doesn't do either, letting your flounderings get more and more pathetic. His smile had dropped. You can't read his expression anymore.

Eventually, you grow quiet, standing with him in that silence. When that gets too much, you timidly tell him to have a goodnight and walk home. He doesn't follow, staying rooted to the sidewalk where you left him. You're not running away, you tell yourself over and over again. And yet, you can't help but feel relief as soon as you can't feel his eyes.

Don't resist the Sun. It'll crush you.

𖤓

It was something minuscule.

Barely considered legal work. The case would most likely be finished in a couple of weeks. The defendant had nothing on Gojo Satoru, at least from what you and the other paralegals could see. You highly doubted it would even go to court. Higuruma always had a knack for bringing anyone to the table. Gojo would be let off from whatever he did without a hitch. No punishment. Just like always.

"Word of advice, don't think about what happens in the private sector," Higuruma says, over whiskey.

The firm was celebrating another victory at a fancy bar. You were still stewing over the face of that young woman's face when the judge ruled in your client's favor. She looked heartbroken. You can still remember the sleazy smile your client had given her.

"It's a job," he says, "do it. Boost your resume, and get out."

He takes another dainty sip of his glass. Tonight, the circles underneath his eyes seem even darker. "You're a young kid. Do something else with your life."

When he offers to buy you a round, you accept. You think about that night sometimes, and you wonder if Higuruma wished someone else would have given him that advice when he was younger.

Do the job, and get out. Easier said than done. Especially when the job involved Gojo Satoru.

Associating with him was dangerous, you knew that firsthand, especially when he was interested in something you had. You'd left, but that wouldn't save you. The space of decades would not help.

Burn Gojo once, he won't forgive you. Burn Gojo twice? You don't think there's anyone alive who did that.

Over the coming days, you expect something from him. It's a nagging feeling in your stomach. The delayed response to a gunshot. Dread. You expect him to snap. Push. Break.

He never does. Gojo remains pliant, the same to you as he remains to your boss. There's no additional touching, no disgusting nicknames, no scathing looks. Nothing.

You don't get the confirmation until a week later, when Gojo stops you near the elevator.

"Higuruma's...assistant, right? Sorry, never got your name," he says, and you steel yourself because the two of you are alone and here it comes but if you yell loudly enough maybe-

"He asked for some paperwork, and I finally found it for him." Gojo hands you a stack of sheets with a cheery smile. "You won't mind giving that to him, will ya? Thanks!"

Just as quickly as he arrives, he leaves, shoes clicking down the hall as he goes. You can only stare at his rescinding back, the palpable feeling of relief nearly making your knees buckle.

The best news you could have possibly received. Gojo Satoru had completely forgotten about you.

When you got home later that evening, the rain was heavy, and the sun was nowhere to be seen.

𖤓

You don't have proof it was him.

It's unjust to accuse people of things they didn't do. You lack any evidence. It could have easily started by itself. You'd always been meek and timid. People were bound to take advantage of that.

But the timing was just too perfect for it to not be caused by him.

In the weeks following the incident with Gojo, school went from tolerant to hell. It started small, at first. Tiny. Unoticable. Insignificant. Some people (Gojo's lackeys, you'd later realize), would nudge you as they passed you by the halls. They apologized, mid-laugh, and in the beginning, you truly thought they were sincere. Then, the nudges turned into pushes, then shoves. That's when you knew you had a target on your back.

At first, you found it kind of hard to believe. Bullying? It sounded so childish. Something reserved for petty middle schoolers. You were in your final year of high school. You were already an adult. You laughed it off, for a bit. Mostly because it was so ridiculous. Only when it starts becoming more severe, more apparent that you were his target, do you start taking things more seriously.

There was no proof, but everyone knew it was Gojo. And being on Gojo's bad side wasn't something people were willing to risk. One by one, your friends started to disappear, reducing their involvement by sending strained smiles during passing period. The more stubborn ones who were more adamant about staying by your side were chased away too. They'd skip school for a few days, before coming back and completely ignoring you.

Teachers and staff were no help either. Why would they? Gojo's family held them in the palm of their hand. The most your homeroom teacher would do was avert his eyes whenever something was thrown at you for the third time in class, and quietly remind students to settle down.

You fell on the ground with an embarrassing thump. A chorus of laughter, and a mocking 'sorry' is all you hear from the crowd. Other students step over your scattered papers, giving you looks of sympathy but never bothering to help. You'd call them cowards, but you know you'd do the same.

Instead, you focus on collecting your papers. You avoid the lump in your throat. The tears that threaten to break over your waterline. It's humiliating, being stuck on the floor like this. It's only Wednesday, but you already feel like breaking.

Hands, scarred, move past you, collecting the rest of the sheets. His face is carefully blank as Geto Suguru neatly tucks his share all in one piece before handing it to you. You give your thanks. He ignores it.

“Are you hurt?” Geto asks, his voice barely loud enough to hear.

You think you scrapped your knee during the fall, but other than your pride, you're fine. You shake your head. Geto sighs. It's not out of relief.

“That's good,” he says anyway.

You found it ironic that Gojo's best friend is the only one who bothers to help you these days. It makes sense, in a way. It's not like he'll send his goons to Geto, instead. In this solar system, Geto Suguru is the only person unaffected by Gojo's solar flares.

You work in relative silence, collecting the mess that fell out of your bag. Geto hands you the last of the supplies, idly watching as you tuck them away.

“Take my advice,” he says just before he leaves, “give in.”

He stands up. Geto Suguru has always been taller than you, but now the difference feels even worse. When he looks down at you, a flicker of pity lingers in his eyes. It's gone before it can mean anything.

“It'll only get worse from here if you don't.”

Worse, he had said. God, what could be worse? You were already at rock bottom. All you have left is your dignity. Something you intend on gritting your teeth to keep.

You quickly learned something about Geto Suguru: he knew his best friend.

Friday. The end of the worst week of your life has finally arrived. The week after is break, and then maybe Gojo will move onto some other hyperfixation, and finally leave you alone.

Classes were out. You were done, free to run home and cry the entire week away. And then, you noticed, your locker was open.

Smashed in, was a better term. Completely, irrevocably, destroyed. It looked like someone had taken a wooden bat to repeatedly smash in the metal until it cracked open like an egg.

You don't want to look, but you have to. The busted door is barely hanging on its hinges when you push it open.

It's worse than anything you could think of.

Your books, textbooks, journals, are all torn apart and written on. All the contents of your bag have been thrown around. Your assignments, your notes, your pens and pencils. But it's your laptop that makes your throat stop. Smashed, broken without any hope of being salvageable. Your everything was in there. Why why why would he do this to you?

This wasn't bullying.

This was abuse.

Fuck pride. Fuck dignity.

You were so tired.

Despite the hell his lackeys put you through. Gojo Satoru himself never bothered you. In fact, you hadn't seen him all week. He doesn't make himself impossible to find. You know where his group hangs out after school. You're barely holding yourself together when you hear his voice. His pretty laugh. You don't care about how you look, close to breaking, your voice high-pitched and shaky.

"Why?"

Your voice catches his attention. He falls into silence, just like the rest of the group. Gojo surveys you for a moment. There's a scoff, a hint of amusement before he waves off the rest of the group.

"Get lost."

They comply, dispersing in multiple directions. For the first time, in a long while, you and Gojo are left alone. You and Gojo are left, alone.

"Well?" he tilts his head, completely bored.

"What do I have to do?" You ask desperately, "What-what do I have to do to make this all stop? Please I'll-I'll do anything, just-just make it-"

It's all too much. You can't hold your sobs in, bursting into tears as you fumble through your words. He tuts in mock pity. You flinch when you feel his hand against your cheek, but he doesn't let you shy away.

"Anything?" He asks when your sobs simmer into hushed whimpers, "Really? Anything?"

You blink, looking up at him with rough teary eyes. He's grinning, wide and manic. Your heart drops when he lowers himself to whisper in your ear.

"Anything, right?"

You nod once. He sighs in pure delight. His breath tickles your cheek.

"Get on your knees."

You jerk back, but Gojo doesn't let you go far, a hand on your shoulder, keeping you rooted on the spot. At your look of pure panic, he only laughs a little.

"I-I-Gojo you-"

"And call me Satoru now. Since we're gonna get to know each other a lot better," he interrupts with a chiding grin, ignoring your wide eyes. "What? I thought you said anything, right?"

He's asking, but it's clear you don't get a choice anymore. His grip on your shoulder is tight, close to crushing skin and bone. You're trapped. No, you were trapped the moment you talked to Gojo Satoru.

To think this all started because of two cartons of chocolate milk.

You relent when his grip gets too painful, sinking down to your knees. The grass is cool, and you know it will leave damp spots on your skirt, letting everyone know what you did for him.

"Good girl," he coos, and you shudder at his hand petting your hair. Like you're some precious pet. To him, maybe you are. How could anyone think of treating a human like this? You should be grateful he does it for you, instead of demanding you to pull him out. Still, the jiggle of his belt makes you wince. You turn away, not being able to bring yourself to look. Only when the tip of his cock reaches your peripheral, do you look back. It's big. You should have expected it, considering his height. It's already leaking, a bead of precum that makes you shudder. He moves forward and you instinctively grip his thigh.

"Gojo I-"

"Nuh-uh. Satoru," he ununciates, "Satoru. You gotta' start listening to me baby, or else we're gonna have problems."

You look down at the grass. Green, soft.

"Satoru."

His eyes flash in satisfaction.

"Open up, pretty girl."

The last of your fight disappears, sinks into the soft grass. You swallow, once, before you take him. It's a slow, torturous process. He's too big, your jaw is already starting to ache. Satoru barely notices your discomfort, sighing in contentment when you start to gag on his cock, reaching down to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear.

You make a muffled gurgle and he tilts his head down. His sunglasses fall forward, two pretty eyes stare at you.

"What? Don't act like this is your first time-" he stops himself, mid-thought.

"Wait...this can't be your first time, right?"

If you weren't humiliated enough. You can't even lie, averting your eyes to avoid any further shame.

"Poor baby," Satoru says, all too delighted, "lemme' walk you through it. Gotta' suck on it, just like a lollipop-that's it-use your tongue," he encourages, still gripping his cock in his hand, like he was feeding it to you.

You can feel your mouth open wider. Tears stream down your face, not just from your pride, but also from pain. Satoru lets you take him in like this for a few more moments, just enjoying your warm mouth.

"There we go," he breathes, "take-fuck-take all of me."

But Satoru isn't known for his patience. You've barely taken all of him in yet before he grabs your hair to fuck your throat properly. You choke, sputtering all over his cock. He barely pays you any mind, his head thrown back as he rams himself down your mouth without a care in the world.

"Y'know, our first time together could-could have been nicer," he says through gritted teeth, the heat was starting to get to him, "but you just had to go and mess it up, huh?"

If you were stronger. If you were braver. You would have rejected it. Screamed. Fought. At the very least, you would have denied his delusions. But you weren't strong. You weren't brave. You were weak. Stupid. This was all your fault. Had you just given in the moment he asked, this wouldn't be happening to you. Or maybe, he'd be a bit nicer about it.

He hisses, gripping the back of your head before something warm and disgusting fills your mouth. Above you, Satoru lets out a shameless groan, a mix of your name as well as a curse. He releases you then, finally letting you sink to the floor. You fall forward, resting on your hands and knees, panting, trying to regain your breath, some semblance of sanity. You can still taste him. It's salty, a sickly tang. You spit as much as you can on the grass. It doesn't help.

He kneels, getting down to your level. With the way he's silently watching you, you know he's waiting for the right answer this time.

Don't resist the Sun. It'll crush you.

So, you drop your gaze down. You take in a deep long stilted breath.

"Yes, Satoru," you say, voice quiet, pliant, "I'll go out with you."

His demeanor drops in just a second. He smiles, painfully innocent, like you hadn't spent the last few moments choking on his cock. He cups your face with both hands and you wonder how he could look at you like that, gently, as though you weren't covered in tears and his cum.

(You still feel it drip down your mouth. Tonight, when he finally lets you go home you'll cry for hours in the shower, hoping the water will wash away all the shame you feel. It won't.)

"Finally!" He exclaims, laughing, light, happy, elated, "I'm so glad you finally came around. I was starting to think I was ugly or something."

You stay like that for a while. Underneath him. You let his hands run up and down your body, like he's feeling the space that makes up you. Soon, you'd realize Gojo Satoru liked to touch things that were beneath him. A thought muddles it's way through your numb brain. You bring yourself to look at him.

"Satoru?" you ask. He sighs in satisfaction, stroking your hair.

"My laptop...it's broken."

You didn't know what else to say. It sounded accusatory, even to your ears. Righteous. You wondered if he heard it too, if he'd do something about it.

Satoru only scoffs.

“that old thing?” You flinch. It was a gift from your aunt, you highly doubted he cared enough about the sentimental. He hugs you closer, almost like a snake, constricting you within its scales before it devours you.

(You think the worst part is that he didn't even deny it.)

“I'll just get you a new one, baby.”

He walks you home later that evening. When he demands a kiss, you comply, numbly pressing your aching lips to his.

The sunset is pretty today.

𖤓

It's not a particularly hard case, but Gojo has a knack for keeping those who work for him busy. Higuruma had asked you to stay behind, once again. The two of you were stuck alone in the office building, a room that Gojo had graciously supplied.

You were milling through a stack of papers when someone new walked in. You didn't recognize her. She was tall, pretty, sparkling jewelry littered her neck and wrists. Your eyes drifted up and down her outfit, something that definitely wasn't business-appropriate. A part of you wants to ask where she got that lipgloss from.

"Oh," she tilts her head, surveying the two of you with pretty eyes, "is Sato not here?"

You inwardly cringe at the nickname, but choose not to show it. Higuruma is the one who saves you, in the end. He speaks on both of your behalf.

"Mr. Gojo isn't here at the moment," he says, "feel free to wait."

She does as she's told, plopping down on a seat right next to her. Higuruma goes back to ignoring her, dutiful in everything like he always is. You, on the other hand, don't like the way some of the other associates eye her legs. When you wordlessly hand her your jacket, she gratefully accepts.

"Thanks. I love your bag, by the way," she cheerily says and a part of you feels bad for her.

Minutes pass. She crosses her legs and then uncrosses them. When she crosses them again, you have to look up from your paperwork and ask if she's feeling alright.

"Just nervous," she admits, "I-I haven't seen Sato since our...last meeting."

Everyone in the vicinity knows this wasn't a casual business meeting, you don't get why she's avoiding the elephant like that. Probably to save face. It's clear from her behavior that she wasn't expecting so many visitors, so perhaps this situation is new for her. You found it strange that a booty call would be called up to an office building, especially when people were clearly watching, but you doubted Mr. Gojo cared about that. He was always shameless in that regard, uncaring about anyone's reputation, even his own. That's why he's in this legal mess in the first place. Besides, you were part of Gojo's Satoru's legal team. Part of your job is to be discreet about his extracurricular affairs.

Gojo Satoru hadn't changed at all since high school. Why would he? His personality has gotten him this far, after all. The Sun would never change, it's a constant sphere of fire. You wouldn't want him to change. You were banking on his stagnant nature to slip by. You couldn't imagine if he did change, improve himself, and realize how horrible he'd been to you. How would you be able to keep yourself together if he pulled you aside one day and tried to apologize? You'd break. Things are better the way they are now. Let Gojo Satoru indulge himself in all this lavishness, forgetting about the people he's tortured. It's better this way.

You glance over at the girl. She's young, maybe a couple of years younger than you. You can see the flush on her cheeks. The clear swooning. A part of you wonders what she'd think about that man if you ever told her what he did to you. What a monster he is-

"There you are!" Mr. Gojo strides in, just as silent as always, making himself known when he wants to.

The girl jumps up, her eyes lighting up in pure excitement as she practically drags herself into Mr. Gojo's arms. He places an arm on the small of her back, scarily close to touching somewhere inappropriate as she chatters away. They disappear off to wherever rich men like him go.

It's so quick. You must have imagined it because, for a second, you were sure he'd glanced back at you.

𖤓

By now, everyone knows you're Satoru's. That means, like him, you're untouchable.

You're not celestial. If Satoru was a star, then you were a stray meteor he'd found hurtling through space, and he couldn't resist forcing it to revolve around him. In exchange for suffering through his solar flares and radiation, he protects you from bigger planets that are all too eager to smash into you. The one relief is that no one seems to bother you anymore. You haven't been shoved around, pushed, or prodded. Sometimes, you receive glares from Satoru's old ex's, but it's more tolerable than burnt homework.

Satoru has officially chased away all your friends, but he's more than happy to keep you company. You sit next to him in lunch now, quietly listening as he prattles on to the rest of his friends (you recognize some of them, the ones who messed with you, they never seem to hold your gaze for long). You used to study on campus alone, right after school let out. Now, you still do it, but with Satoru watching. It's hard to concentrate with his wandering fingers and wet lips.

He takes all of your firsts. You don't give them to him, much less, he demanded it of you. The first time he fully takes you is far less romantic than you'd ever hoped. It was on his bed after he'd practically dragged you over to his house that night. You went home the next day covered in marks that took nearly a week to heal. A little while after that, Geto came to talk to you again. For the second time ever.

"Here." He offers you a packet. Pills. You're confused for a moment until you realize Satoru didn't wear a condom.

"Thank-"

"Don't," he cuts you off, "Don't thank me."

He says it with so much hate that you think it's directed at you. It isn't until years later that you realize the disgust was towards himself.

There are theories that the Moon once had color.

It wasn't just white. It was green and blue, and red. 70 million years ago, it could have been much like the Earth. It didn't have a strong atmosphere, however. The gaseous layer was slowly stripped away. The sun didn't help. With no atmosphere, the unfiltered solar radiation slowly began to bleach the once colorful celestial body a dull white. Before long, the sun had created the moon to be its image. Now, the only color the moon has to offer is the sun's reflection.

When the moon was out, you often stared at it, reveling in its beauty. Now, trapped in between Satoru's arms, you find its skeleton a bit too haunting to look at.

Three more weeks. Just three more weeks.

Graduation is coming up soon. You already had your college picked out, far far away from this backward town. From his conversations, Satoru was planning on going to some high-end college in Tokyo. With the way he kept looking back at you, you had a feeling he was planning on dragging you there too.

You were intelligent enough to keep your mouth shut about your plans. Satoru never asked, so you guessed he assumed you would let him bully you into whatever he wanted. He was right, so far. It's not like you'd ever argued with him.

Your parents were the only people who knew about your plan. They were excited, albeit for the wrong reasons.

"I'm so glad to see you're this interested in higher education," your mother beamed, "why the sudden change?"

You look at your mother's face. People have told you that you share the same smile. You wonder if she'd keep smiling if you ever told her about what Satoru's been doing to you, the bullying, the harassment.

You can't. You won't, because you can't bear to see her give you the same pitiful look your classmates give-the one Geto gives. You don't want her to see you as something broken.

"I'm just starting to think I might go into law," you finally say, "definitely need college for that."

On Thursdays, you have to sit inside the gym during Satoru's basketball practice. You wait on the bleachers, reviewing notes, and listening to the squeaking of sneakers. Satoru's good at the sport. You know last year they won a few tournaments. Whenever he scores a point, he gives a cheer, turning back to see if you saw it too. In those moments, you remember he's just a kid. He's your age. You can feel the envy. There, but too insignificant to do anything. He pleasantly lives his childhood, even after he stole yours.

Practice ends, always a little later than it's officially supposed to. Coach gives the final whistle and then Satoru is jogging back to you. Your things are already neatly packed into your bag. His breath is barely ragged, you can smell the hint of sweat as he kisses you on the lips. You can feel eyes on you, same as always. It's getting easier to ignore the gawking. After all, you're Satoru's now.

"Miss me?" he asks when he pulls away. He grabs your stuff before you can, hauling your backpack away. To others, it may look like he's being a sweet boyfriend. To you, it's another leash, tugging you to where he wants to go. You're not sure how Satoru sees the action.

You clamber out of the bleachers, following him without a word. Usually, Satoru would walk you home. You'd share a kiss with him on the front porch. And for the rest of the day, he'd finally leave you alone.

He grabs your hand, shooting you a wink when you lightly jostle into his body. Instead of heading out the door, Satoru turns his gaze towards the empty locker rooms. The light's automated. It flickers an unsettling white, casting a sick glow along the tiles. You are barely through the door before Satoru's pinning you against the lockers, kissing you as aggressively as he can.

Your hands immediately find their way to his shoulders, squeezing. It's not enough to hurt him, but it grabs his attention anyway. He lets up a little, relaxing into your touch.

"Sorry, baby," he says not sounding apologetic at all, "just be good f'me, okay? Need you."

He's pent up, you realize and you look at the door. School's out. The campus is nearly empty. But people are still around. And the door he just shoved you through doesn't have a lock-

Oh, wait. Would it even matter if someone came in and saw you? Everyone knew you were Satoru's.

Three more weeks. Just three more weeks.

He's trailing down, dropping to his knees. He flips up your skirt, pushing aside your panties, and attaches his hot mouth to your pussy. He's ravenous, today. Sucking on your clit like he can't bear to do anything else. You gasp, immediately assaulted by the shocks of pleasure running up and down your back.

You press against the wall, arching your back, giving him even more to suck on. He hums in approval, his voice getting lost in your wet folds. You're practically dripping now, and Satoru, with all his debauchery, gladly licks it all up as you writhe and whimper above him. Your thighs grow tighter around him, threatening to crush his skull if both his hands weren't carved into the fat of your thighs, squeezing.

Your initial panic is washed away, crumbled by his insistent tongue and fingers. You whimper out his name again as his tongue circles your clit and two fingers continue to move in and out of your sopping pussy. You're crying now, tears of pleasure and brokenness floating down your cheeks. Despite how blurry your vision is, you can see Satoru looking up at you.

"Getting close?" he's breathless, but there's still a hint of playfulness in his voice, "gonna sing, pretty girl?"

He gives a particularly hard suck on your clit and you're gone. You seize, throwing your head back as your legs shake from the force of your orgasm. It's a scream, so loud and shameless. Satoru gives a groaned pant, lapping up your aftertaste, making you jolt from the overstimulation before he finally gets to his feet. You watch as he haphazardly wipes the remnants of you with his sleeve before he's kissing you again.

"Always so sweet f'me," he purrs, biting at your lips before he fumbles with his belt. His cock is already red and strained. He pants, head shifting to fall at the crook of your neck as he lines himself up and sinks into you with one full thrust.

You whine a mix of a sob and a hissed moan. He hushes you with a stilted breath, barely keeping himself together as he pumps himself into you. Both of you are sweating now. You can feel the beads draw down your neck. He licks at your clavicle, biting when he starts to get more aggressive. When it's too less, he hikes your thigh over his waist, keeping it there so he can go even deeper.

"Fuck, I'm crazy for you," he slurs against your skin. You can barely pay attention to his words, barely keeping your own voice in check, "’would do anything for you, pretty girl."

He raises his head, looking you in the eye. His sunglasses have been tossed on the floor. You can his beautiful eyes, two cosmic galaxies of blue. You could stare at them for hours, discovering each variant of cerulean, naming each one. You bet each day you look, you'll find another shade. They're so pretty.

You wonder how pretty those eyes would look floating in a jar.

"'Toru-!" you gasp when Satoru rocks himself into again, even faster. The name you accidentally gave him when you're too fucked out to comprehend language makes him laugh in pure delight, his smile uncontrolled, delirious.

"Right here, baby," he moans into your sweaty skin, hand reaching down to rub your clit, "your ‘Toru's right here. Just where you need him."

His fingers move under your shirt, squeezing at your tits, exploring, roughly grabbing at your chest. The sensation makes you wince. Your walls draw even tighter, choking his cock.

"Too-too much, 'Toru, p-please." He growls at your begging, burying his face in your neck again. He nips at your damp skin, you flinch.

"I gotcha' baby," he breathes, "just-just lemme-" He presses on your clit. It's all you need.

You come with a sob, your pussy squeezing, milking Satoru for all he's worth. He's not too far behind, hips stuttering before he whines in your ear. Something warm fills your cunt.

You flounder, sagging against the wall. Satoru's the only thing that keeps you upright as you fight to catch your breath. He isn't in any better shape, panting just as hard as you are. He lifts his head, pressing his damp forehead onto yours. There's a dreamy smile on his lips. A look of absolute adoration.

"I love you."

You look at him. There's nowhere else to look.

"I love you," he repeats, leaning forward to kiss the corner of your lips. His lips trail down, caressing your cheek, your jaw, your neck. It would almost feel nice, but you can only stare straight ahead. You can see the dull green lockers in the distance. You can smell the mold in the damp locker room. You can feel Satoru's cum slowly seep out of you, trailing down your thigh.

Fuck three weeks.

You needed to get out, now.

𖤓

The only reason you went is because you were told Gojo Satoru wouldn't be there.

His assistant had off-handily mentioned that he had a meeting on the other side of town. Very last minute. The building as a whole would be empty, just a skeleton crew and a couple of security guards to keep the place running. It made sense, it was 8 pm- long past any proper business hours.

Higuruma could have easily gone, but it's clear the sleepless nights have been getting to him, or the stress. His paralegal is more than qualified to act like a middleman between him and Mr.Gojo's associates. It's an easy mission. Just grab a few things, and get out.

Gojo Satoru wasn't supposed to be there.

And yet, there he was, leaning against the door, blocking you into the room.

His assistant had always been a mousey thing. Tonight, however, he'd been extra ansty, looking around the room. Babbling out excuses as to what was taking him so long. Now, when he can barely even look at you, you realize he was just a distraction.

"You're off the clock, Fimo," Gojo finally breaks the silence, "take tomorrow off too, okay?"

His assistant quickly nods, keeping his head down to flit out the door. You can't even bring yourself to be mad at him. Gojo always had a habit of singling out the weakest, crushing them within his fist, unless they bent or broke.

The door shuts with a click.

"You know, I didn't even recognize you at first," he starts. He takes a small step forward.

You take one back. He puts his hands up.

"Okay, don't be like that," he sighs, exasperated, "It's been what, 10 years? How you've been?"

He steps around you, barely brushing against your shoulder to get to his desk. He reaches down, grabbing a wine bottle and two glasses from a cabinet, setting both down on mahogany wood.

"Wanna drink? Technically, it's against company policy to serve alcohol in the building but I won't tell if you don't." He grins. It looks bloody.

He looks so casual, the man who's haunted your nightmares, leaning against a desk in a building he owns. Your heart's beating in your chest. It's so loud. You wonder if he can hear it too.

When you don't respond, he rolls his eyes.

"Figures." He pops the cork. "You were always such a stickler for the rules."

"What do you want?" You ask, your tone weaker than you'd liked.

"What? Don't you wanna catch up? I missed you." You flinch at his words, looking away. "A paralegal, huh? Gotta' say, wasn't what I expected, but it fits you." It sounds condescending, but you don't poke the bear, opting to stay silent.

He seems to take an issue with that, regardless.

"Are you mad? If anything, I should be the one upset at how you just ran off like that. After all that time we spent together too. I didn't even get a breakup text."

His last words, send a chill up your spine. A warning. Staying here any longer would be a mistake.

You go to move.

Satoru's faster.

Your head slams against the wall. Hard. Enough to hurt. You struggle anyway, clawing at the hand that's gripping your throat, the body pinning you down. Above you (he's gotten so much taller now), Gojo tuts in disappointment.

"I tried to be nice and look where that got me. You tried to run again," he muses, like he's disappointed, "I shouldn't be surprised. You've always needed something with a bit more teeth." At his threat, his hand on your throat tightens. You freeze.

It's barely choking you, but it's enough of a warning. His other hand is playing with the end of your blouse, feeling the fabric. You can feel the tears start. They're a familiar taste. Only this time, they're twinged with bitterness.

"Don't do this," you whisper, "Don't-don't-"

"Yeah, I don't think you're in any position to make demands right now." He's grinning, but when you look into his eyes, you can see the anger. A fire that has burned for a decade. At that moment, you realized Gojo Satoru had changed. Now, he was better at hiding how he truly felt.

You should have quit the moment Higurama got him as a client.

Gojo's dragging you over to the desk, haphazardly pushing away the stuff already on it. The computer, the bottle, the wine glasses all fall to the floor with a deafening crash as he shoves you down, splaying you across the table. He follows you down, leaning to meet your lips in a frenzied kiss. It's different than all the other times he'd kissed you. He'd lost all the inexperience, more keen on making you stay put and bleed. When you try to turn your face, pushing at his chest, he only growls. A large hand grabs your chin, keeping you in place for him.

When he pulls away, there's a hint of blood on his plush lips. It's not his. He licks it up regardless.

You're full-on sobbing now; barely in sucking air as your body shudders and jolts. You don't expect comfort, least of all from him, but he's cooing, wiping away your tears.

"Missed this," he purrs, ignoring the way you weakly push at him, "'guess that was my mistake. I was expecting you to be different. Nah, you'll be the same crybaby you always were. That's how you managed to slip under my radar."

He buries his face into your hair, sighing in contentment as you shiver underneath him. His lips graze the crown of your head, a complete juxtaposition to his words.

"Scream all you want. No one's here, baby." No one's gonna save you from me.

Still, you try anyway. Your hands grip his broad shoulders, digging in your nails until he hisses.

"Fuck maybe you have changed." He rasps, fiddling with his belt. "You're bitchier now."

"Gojo-Gojo what are you-" He bites on your bare clavicle. You squeal, stilling underneath him again.

"Satoru," he insists. You slump over the desk as he takes both your hands, wrapping his leather belt around your delicate wrists. You wince when he twists it into a knot. The leather bites into your skin. The fight dissolves just as rapidly as it arrived. He hadn't even lifted a finger against you. You were just that pathetic.

"Satoru," you breathe, waving your flag of defeat. He hums, licking at the bitemark. You can feel the heat bloom on your skin. They'll be a mark tomorrow, and much like Satoru, it would go away so easily.

"There's my good girl," he groans, cold hands fiddling with the buttons on your blouse, opening it up until your bra pops out, "I know I should be more mad, but I've always had a soft spot for you. Guess things will never change, hm?"

His mouth dips down, tracing your collarbone to your breasts. He wiggles down your bra, letting your tits spill out and into his hands. He squeezes one while taking another in his mouth, swirling the bud with his tongue before devouring. His moan is barely muffled by your tits. Yours is clear, high-pitched and breathy. Satoru always had no problem being shameless. And he often dragged it out of you too.

He's mouthing something against your skin, but you're too distracted by his other hand, slinking down your waist, pushing up your pencil skirt, letting it bunch around your hips. In the moment, you chastised yourself for wearing something so easy to get rid of, but it wasn't like you were expecting for him to be here, to bring you down just like he did when you were in high school. It's not like you were expecting to fall.

Satoru feels around your pantyhose, running up and down your thigh, searching. He squeezes the sheer fabric, before he rips a hole into it. You gasp, jerking at the action.

"That's-"

"I'll buy you new ones," he says, voice muffled by your tits. The conversation feels familiar.

He bypasses your panties immediately, finding your pussy with practiced ease. You're already soaking. At this, he raises to look at you. You can't keep eye contact, timidly looking away. He laughs. It sounds sickenly affectionate.

"You're so cute." He purrs just as he leaves another mark on your chest. Your tits bounce under his attention as he pushes two fingers into your tight sopping hole. Your back curls, arching off the desk as he starts pumping his fingers in and out of you. Disgust grows within you, not at him, but at yourself, for letting yourself get this low. This desperate.

It doesn't stay for long. He's cruel like that, moving in a way that makes you forget your humanity. His fingers get even faster, digging into your cunt and curling somewhere deep inside, hitting a spot that makes you gasp. You're reduced to whimpering moans by the time he finally stops, fingers exiting your pussy with a wet noise. He brings them to his mouth, sucking on his fingers, eyes rolling to the back of his head at your taste.

"Fuckin' sweet," he moans, taking his fingers out with a sickening pop before wiping the drool on your heaving tits.

Your eyes float to the window. The moon is out, you blearily realize. It's a blood moon, a rusty red. Once every 3 months, it'll lose its heavenly glow. The innocent milky white will get shadowed by the Earth's rusty atmosphere. It'll regain its color eventually. The Sun doesn't like to be overshadowed.

Something hard and blunt slides between your legs. You're barely given a second to comprehend it before Satoru grabs you by the hips, filling you up with one thrust. You yelp, a semblance of his name on your lips, but it's shrouded by the moan you give out.

He stays like that for a bit. You should be grateful he is letting you adjust to him. His cock is sickenly familiar to your walls. Satoru's hair brushes your cheek as he leans up to whisper in your ear.

"How many?" he sounds like he's gritting his teeth, barely in control, "how many guys have you let fuck you since you ran?"

You blink, wondering if he's seriously asking, but you can hear the seriousness in his tone. Even now, he's concerned with the wrong things. He's always been petty like that.

"You," you say because there's no point in lying, "it's only ever been you."

You say it like it's a curse, because to you, Satoru had cursed you. He'd stolen something you'd never be able to enjoy, devouring it, keeping it for himself. A part of you will always hate yourself for letting him do that, just like a part of you will always be his.

Satoru deflates, as if he's relieved, easing his face into the crook of your neck, placing an almost loving kiss on your shoulder. He starts slow, slowly drawing his cock out, just until his tip is barely still in, before he pushes himself back into your hole. His pace is slow, controlled. It's different than when he was younger, more eager to get himself off more than anything. Now, it's like he's enjoying the intimacy, the feeling of your walls squeezing him. The wet noises. He's barely affected. Unlike you, writhing underneath him, close to falling apart. It's his length that gets you, forcing your pussy to stretch just to fit him. His cock hits everywhere, all at once, an endless torture of pleasure.

It takes you a while to get your brain back together, to collect the mush, and realize that Gojo isn't wearing a condom.

"S-Sato-" You try, just when he spreads your thighs apart, pushing them close to your chest so he can get deeper and kiss you at the same time. His hand slips down to your swollen clit, rubbing tight circles and you feel yourself getting even closer. You squeeze your eyes shut at the onslaught.

"Try again," Satoru huffs, "What's my name? I know you know it, pretty girl."

"'Toru," you beg because it's all you have left. Your breathless gasps make you sound even more unconvincing but you still manage to stutter out, "I'm-I'm not on anything, so-so please-"

"That's okay," he mutters, though it's clear he's half-listening, "I'll take care of you and the baby."

"No-I-I-can't-"

He drops his leisure pace in exchange of shorter, faster thrusts. His cock barely leaves your pussy, grinding in your hole as his breathing starts to get a little less controlled.

"I'll make sure it takes this time too."

Your eyes open, and you forget your panic to stare at him. You think back to the pills 18-year-old Geto had handed you. Always discreet. You'd...you'd always thought they were Satoru's idea.

He hits something inside you, right then. You implode, crashing and burning as you gush around his dick. He's not kind enough to ease you through it, ramming his cock even harder inside your battered pussy until he's hunching over you with a shudder. You can feel his cum settle deep inside your womb.

You stay like that for a few moments, not saying anything. It feels like hours before Satoru is moving again, drawing his softened cock out of your overstimulated pussy. You can feel the cum drip out of you too, spilling onto the desk, but you don't think Satoru's too mad about that. He flicks your clit a few times, watching your hips jerk and you give an exhausted whine.

He kisses your breasts. He kisses up your jaw, before finding your lips. Dazed, you find yourself kissing back in reluctant acceptance, your body aching for any semblance of gentleness.

"I love you."

You look into his eyes, and you realize he's right. Gojo Satoru loves you, and this is how a man like him loves. He meant it, all those years ago, just like how he does now.

Satoru loves like the Sun. Too bright. With enough heat to burn your soul away. It's why you ran.

"I love you," he repeats like the phrase doesn't kill you each time he says it, "so you're never leaving me."

"Not ever again."

There are theories that the Moon once had color.

If Satoru was the Sun, then perhaps, you were the Moon. Stripped of your color. Unable to create light of your own. Reflecting only what you're given.

How foolish of you to think you could ever escape his radiation.

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uchihabucketlist · 3 months

Note

Based on your request, stoner König who breeds you while he is high as fuck and breeds you again in the morning when he is not high because he can not remember breeding you the night before

RAAAHAHA this is what i’m talking bouttttt 😭🙏🏼

primary warnings are in the request + non-con bru 🍃 mdni 𓉸ྀི 𓅩

“fuck, fuck, fuck.” you cry, one hand slapped to your panting mouth while the other presses against his chest. he’s got you pinned in a mating press, overpowering your struggles as he fucks his cum into your quivering cunny. he won’t stop fucking cumming. this has to be the fifth load he’s spunked out. a milky ring of cream coats the fat base of his cock as he pistons it in and out at a ferocious speed — like he’s a power drill and you’re concrete.

“könig, stop. stop.” you beg, eyes pleading with his for mercy. but he’s not looking at you, he’s looking at the way his thick cock disappears deep into your cunt over and over and over again. his eyes are bloodshot, hooded and glazed over with a film of absence. your lips tremble, tears running down your sweaty cheeks as you thrash and writhe in his grip. his hands are splayed over the underside of your tucked-up legs, leaning his entire weight on the bent muscles of them for leverage. his angle is so deep, cockhead bulging in your lower belly as he prepares to empty his swollen balls into you yet again.

he only grunts, skin still snacking yours as his hips drive down into yours. he alternates grinding and rolling them, the massive, hairy bottom portion of his dick abusing your clit with every hard thrust. he looks ravenous and fucking psychotic above you, face languid as sporadic groans of your name tumble from his parted lips. he was blabbering about how pretty you’d look carrying his child when he took his first bong hit, and an hour later you’ve found yourself on the receiving end of impregnation.

“it hurts, please stop.” you sniff, eyes spurting impressive fountains of tears when he moves one hand to stamp on your stomach — applying pressure to your uterus as it squeezes and contracts around his semen. you cunt clamps down on him and he croaks out a sentence in german, which you’re fairly certain consisted of promises to fertilise you with his generous seed.

webs of ropey, white fluid squirt from your tortured hole as he pumps you full once more. so full in fact, that he’s actually plunging his cum out of you because you’re overflowing with his product, spilling it back out because your cervix is so flooded. his kids are gonna be leaking out of you for days, ruining your knickers and thighs :((

and come morning, he’s sticking it in you again, before you’ve even had chance to wake up. he’s sober now, talking of dreams about you nurturing his offspring. “i think after last night, those dreams will come true.” you try to remind him, but he’s not having it. he needs to fuck his baby into your empty tummy right now. it’s all he can think about and he won’t rest until your stomach is rounded with the growth of his kin.

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uchihabucketlist · 4 months

Text

౨ৎ . ⊹.˚ CARAPHERNELIA // MANJIRO. “... What’s there has been the understanding that Mikey displayed many times before his petrifying potential to be what he is now. Everyone had just turned a blind eye.”

tags + bonten!mikey. f!reader. yandere. noncon. kidnapping. explicit smut ( face-fucking. unprotected. cum painting. mikey eats his own cum. breeding kink. creampie ) violence. unhealthy obsession. mikey is downright delulu. gang shenanigans. prostitution. blood. guns ( he uses a gun to scare you but not in a gunplay way ). i deliberately mixed up the timelines to fit the narrative i was aiming for so pls no meanie comments abt it! ( 9k wc )

xoxo, hunter + this commission is for @seishirose <33 nana, i couldn't begin to express how grateful i am for the patience you've shown me these past few months!! this piece was such a ride but i'm glad it's here and i could only hope it lives up to ur expectations! lots of love <33

You have always held onto the faint optimism that something in your life might spark and change for the better, however difficult it is to believe due to the somber clouds that obscure the tomorrows. Despite now and despite the familiar aroma of coffee lingering in the office’s pantry. A symbol that you have always despised yet endured, indicating that you remain immobile inside a building that persists with being blind to your potential.

A news outlet company, huh? It’s a stable job and yet you cannot find the heart to rejoice. Especially when you should be out there hoarding scopes of what’s happening in the world instead of making the 10th coffee for your tenured colleagues.

You watch as the steam snakes up from the cup before shaping your frown into a practiced smile. The least you would want is for your superiors to point out how you picture a clear contradiction of the clement weather outside.

“Coffee?” You tilt the warm mug toward your boss, who is presently focusing only on the television before giving your presence an acknowledgment. You set the cup down on the open area left on the desk by the papers and newspapers that were lying around.

“Isn’t it extremely intriguing?” Amanda speaks, now turning her chair toward you. Before you can inquire as to what specifically, she adds, “The mind of a crime lord.”

You look at her with oblivion etched across your face. An emotion you only have realized of owning because of Amanda’s chuckle.

“And do you know what’s gonna turn this building upside down in a good way?” Behind her thick glasses, eyes like clear marbles look at you with distinct interest. “Getting an interview with a crime lord.”

As if on cue, you become aware of the background noise of sirens blaring and a reporter babbling on her television. There is a display of several vehicles colliding along a highway; the one to blame for making your 30-minute drive to work scratching an hour earlier.

“Which gang was behind that?” You carefully choose your words. You must make the most of the opportunity to corner Amanda and convince her that you are a real human being and not a human espresso machine.

Amanda leans back, pressing the cap of the pen on her lower lip. “Bonten. The usual recipe.”

Bonten; the infamous, if not the most heinous, crime organization in the whole country. Raised in the upper echelon of gangs, they are basically considered as pharaohs of the underground. You do not cross Bonten, to put it succinctly and in the most clichéd way possible. If you do, you will go down in history as the most dimwitted person ever.

“Your next target is to have a heart-to-heart talk with Izana Kurokawa, then?” you quip only to keep the conversation going. Milk the cow as long as you could, as they say.

Amanda points the pen at you. “Yes. But who says I’m talking about Izana Kurokawa? The dude has retired. And he’s probably gonna shoot you if you stand five meters away from him.”

Shit. You really need to keep tabs on these crime lords, don’t you?

“Then, who are we talking about?“ You grin like a child masking embarrassment.

Amanda taps her table before pointing at the television again. “Manjiro Sano. There we go. Right on cue.”

Manjiro Sano.

Mikey.

The gravity of emotions and memories long gone successfully pulls your grin downwards. It is an echo— a cacophony of voices filling your head with the familiar name. A name that feels like a new tattoo every time memories of your teenage years resurface.

Your head turns, much like they do in horror movies, to face the image of a man displayed on a digital screen. Blurred as it is, filled with grain from a snapshot of a camera some meters away from where he stands, you know it is him.

Manjiro Sano— just a different man from the boy you once knew. Different in so many ways.

“… they say he’s lenient compared to Izana. Do crime lords possess leniency? That’s what I wanna—” Amanda slaps the table to fetter you back to reality, to grab your eyes away from the fuzzy image of Manjiro Sano. “Are you listening?”

“Y… yes. I am. Leniency, right?” You blink rapidly, coughing up a nervous chuckle to swipe the stupefaction off your face.

Amanda groans in frustration. “I know nobody will get it. Nobody has the balls to cover a story about Bonten or any other crime syndicate. You may leave.”

Shaken up by the weight of information you have accidentally gathered, there’s no time at all to wallow in the bitter dismissal. You depart from her office while she babbles about the dullness of the new age of media. Apparently, nobody has what it takes to cover the unbelievable anymore: getting an interview with a crime lord.

Try as you might to keep your cool, an overflow remains in your head; a swarm of memories and thoughts flooding you to the point of headache. However, it has not stopped you from typing on your computer. For a syndicate as well-organized and huge as Bonten, it’s perplexing to arrive at limited search results from the Internet about them. Scattered news dating back from years ago are accessible, but there’s nothing about the background of its members or hierarchy. It’s obvious that the results are controlled. Basically, they have not only the country but also the media by the balls.

What’s with the show of power, then? Is it to claim territory? To prove a point?

Mikey is not that kind; his means are not pompous or grandiose. Whenever he needs to make a point, he does it out of good will. He exhibits his strength for the sake of friends and family.

But what would you know? You haven’t seen him in years. He is close to a stranger now and you to him. The axes of your lives have veered in separate ways after high school. He was gone. He made a choice and that choice did not include you.

While sipping on your coffee, you observe the distressed faces and pinched eyebrows of workers around your station. Of those running to and fro with heaps of paper on their arms. And those… those emerging from Amanda’s office bearing the same countenance you had earlier.

The revelation struck you right there and then, and you cursed yourself bitterly for allowing her point to go over your head.

Amanda is a wise spider, spinning threads of curiosity upon the employees working under her web. Right now, she presents a competition of who can weave the best tapestry. That tapestry being an interview with a crime lord.

Your fingers tingle at the tips, like you have been struck by an energy so primal you couldn’t disregard its call. Somehow, amidst the mystery and peril, your thoughts have fixated on one goal: answer Amanda’s challenge by conjuring a tale that can turn this building upside down.

The urge to dash and yell that you accept Amanda’s challenge is far too much for your self restraint. Your stomach twists in anticipation. However, if you dared to expose the illusion of enthusiasm, desperation would replace its place.

You are desperate to be recognized. Eager to be noticed. It matters not if the eyes belong to people who matter, you miserably need to be out there and make a name that it physically hurts.

Pulse quickening at the speed which your feet miraculously managed to catch up on, you bang on Amanda’s door, jarring the poor woman out of her daydream. Her mouth opens for reproach but you shut it down quickly with: “I am gonna get you that story. I promise.”

And this is desperation speaking. There is no shame left to conceal it. You are desperate and Manjiro Sano, the boy from your past, is the only one who can answer to that desperation.

—

With renewed joviality that a child could only possess, you ride into the next day. Rather vibrant of acquiring yet another reason to finally live, you take in the air around the city like a tourist visiting for the first time. Every store you have passed by, restaurants you have dined in, and clubs you have patronized are all untouched places starting today.

He was here the night of the accident. But where does a crime lord hide? Certainly not under the bridge nor a penthouse, right? Those places are too conspicuous and predictable.

Knowing Mikey, he would do absolutely everything to avoid the spotlight. He was not one to wallow in attention, especially if it’s not bargained for.

Suddenly, an acrid thought sweeps your little reminiscence into sudden oblivion. Knowing Mikey? What hound of hell has driven you thinking that you still know him? Understanding Mikey’s intentions and strategies is like trying to see through a keyhole into a completely dark room. Upon realizing this, the weight of your frustration swiftly gathers in your chest, your self-doubt wriggling free to breathe life.

“What the fuck am I doing?” You grip the steering wheel firmly and sigh. Here you go again, stepping into the savage life of gangsters without a single weapon in your arsenal. Saved for the times you were with Mikey during some of Toman’s gang fights years ago, you are comparable to a newborn in the environment you wish to trespass.

This escapade of yours, that is highly likely to put your life in danger, must be given a thorough deliberation. Yet that very thing is not bestowed to you as luxury. Time is of the essence. Mikey could be gone and flying into some place while your self-doubt eats at you little by little.

“Think,” you murmur to yourself all while hitting your head against the steering wheel. “Where would he go? Where would he hide? Think!”

—

A police station; that’s where you end up standing in front of after the gruesome moments you have spent deciding inside your car. A place where you’d see a couple of gangsters, yes, only that they are behind bars. And certainly a place you would not find any members of Bonten lurking around.

However, if there’s anyone who is in active pursuit of Bonten like you do, you have judged that they’d be in a police station. Now, all you have to accomplish is find someone to uncork the information you need.

There was a slight commotion inside when you went in. A pickpocket has been restrained with handcuffs and led to a cell where a few criminals are being detained. It’s fairly easy to breeze through to the information desk without skeptical eyes following your wake. But the real challenge has presented itself when you are finally face-to-face with the stern policeman on duty.

“How may I help you?” he asks with that hostile tone they always use to shun reporters away.

You stretch your lips wide before raising your ID and saying, “Good morning, Officer. I am from On the Street. I’m here to inquire whether there’s been any update regarding the Bonten case about the accident on 5th Street?”

“Media,” he says with an audible scorn. “Right now, we are not permitted to divulge any information about the case. It is extremely confidential. So, please wait for further announcements regarding the press conference we are to hold soon.”

Thus, it begins: the battle of policemen’s repudiation and a journalist’s perseverance.

“How is it that the police have deduced Bonten as the prime perpetrators of the accident?”

“I told you: we are not allowed to divulge any information just yet,” the policeman enunciates, his brows dipping together in annoyance.

“Is it true that Manjiro Sano has replaced Izana Kurokawa and now leads the gang?”

“I will have to escort you out—”

“What measures are the police doing to get the mayhem under control? Is there anything you want to say to quell the unease amongst the civilians, officer?” you parrot all these as a new officer leads you, although gently, out of the building. “Is there any information yet about Bonten’s whereabouts— you do not need to drag me!” you almost shout the words out, snatching the hem of your shirt away.

“I am not dragging you…” The policeman paused, lifting his face up to properly look at you without his cap obscuring the sight.

“Wait.” You squint hard, gasping as you take in his face completely. It all makes sense now. “Baji? Keisuke Baji?!”

Your frozen face frizzles into excitement upon the sight of Keisuke Baji— Toman’s 1st Division Captain back in the day.

He scans you from head to toe, spilling out your name with the same surprised cadence of someone who hasn’t seen you in years.

“It’s… it’s good to see you, Baji,” you whisper breathlessly, trying your hardest to contain the thrill that’s beginning to overflow from your mouth. “I wouldn’t have thought that you’d be a police officer. And that you’d work here in this city.”

“Is that a compliment or…?” Baji howls the same merry sound. His hair is shorter now and he carries a crisp air around him, but not much has changed from the boy back then. He still has his canine teeth peeking out everytime he speaks. Although his rugged countenance of pinched brows and perpetually rude expression are all a distant memory.

“It is a compliment! Wow… I… it’s been years, huh? You’ve changed a lot but not so much.”

Baji scratches his nape. “Yeah. Figured I had to get my shit together so here I am now. And you…” Curious set of brown eyes focuses on you again. “A journalist, then?”

You absentmindedly raise your ID with a blinding smile. “Yes! Yes, I am. I was hoping I could gather some, y’know, details about Bonten’s whereabouts. I need it badly,” you say, adding just a tad bit of defeat to your word to gain some sympathy.

Baji is the one. He is the missing key.

The man twists his lips, like a grimace, as if Bonten is an open wound he’s still trying to mend. “I’m sorry. It’s top-secret right now. I have only arrived here myself because they needed some reinforcements. That’s how bad it is.” Preparing to leave, he taps your shoulder.

“Baji, you do not understand. I need this.” You chase him with eager feet, thumbing the air to show your perseverance. “Anything. I’ll take anything.”

He shakes his head. “No can do. Civilians cannot be involved in this. I hope you understand—”

“I’m not a civilian. It’s my job to know what goes on around us, Baji. To make stories about it. So, help me. Please.” Your voice dips into its lowest decibel, accompanied by the droop of your eyes. Just one of many things your floundering desperation has freed from inside you.

Sighing, Baji halts in his tracks. You observe him with anticipation, heart doing cartwheels when he takes your shoulders. “I can’t. You have to go home. Let us handle this alone for once, hm?” And he walks away, just like that.

You watch his back, suffering the defeats you have received with a pungent taste in your mouth. “This is not the last time you’ll see me, Baji!”

—

The day after your unexpected and undignified reunion with Baji, you have delved into the depths of humiliation, made severe by Amanda’s constant demands. Two days have gone by since you have taken up her challenge. Which brings you to yet another dilemma: she’s going to give you a deadline. She wouldn’t say it, but her eyes have already spoken.

And for five days after that, you have done nothing but to go back and forths to the police station, almost camping outside to persuade Baji. Who, much to your chagrin, would not spare you a glimpse. You suppose there is a silver lining to that as well. You couldn’t afford his superiors catching a whiff of your relation with him, lest they command him to stay away— if he wasn’t doing that already.

So now you sit inside your car, cursing sharply at your coffee cup, which you happened to spill the contents of on your lap. Luckily, it has gone cold enough not to singe. However, none of this would’ve happened if you weren’t jittering on your feet, parked near the police station, and prepared to be rejected by an old friend once more.

You place the drink back to the cup holder while wiping yourself when all of a sudden, Baji comes into view. A sense of urgency strikes at you, driving you grappling for the door to meet him.

Baji has other things in mind, though. He motions for you to go back and sit tight after glancing behind him warily.

“Tell me you’ve changed your mind, Baji,” you whisper before rolling the window down.

He bends forward, as if terrified of invisible eavesdropping ears, then hands you a piece of paper. “Meet me here tomorrow. Do not be late. I don’t have forever,” he says.

—

“Chifuyu’s pet shop…?” is your initial question to yourself, after parking near the address Baji has given you. “Why does he wanna meet here?”

The glass door chimes in upon your entry and an empty shop greets you inside. You have been here once, when you thought that you’d be responsible to take care of a fish. It died two weeks later.

“How may I help you—?”

You follow the voice, finding Chifuyu behind the counter. He doesn’t appear surprised to see you there at all. It’s almost as if he’s expecting your arrival.

“Here for another fish?” he quips. That’s when Kazutora emerges from the staff room carrying little trinkets. Chifuyu must’ve seen the question in your eyes, for he says, “I hired his unemployed ass last month.”

“Wow. Is this a li’l reunion? Should’ve dressed for the occasion,” Kazutora pitches in with a small chuckle.

You cannot help but smile. It feels good to see them again. Together and helping one another.

“You look good. The both of you,” you say, still holding your smile. “Unfortunately, I’m not here for a fish. I’m here for Baji.”

They share a look of which meaning is only understood between them. Baji must’ve given them a heads up about you and your reasons. Maybe they find you odd, too, or even foolish for seeking out Bonten.

However, if they had anything to say, they have kept it all to themselves.

Chifuyu asks you to follow him up on a narrow staircase leading to a room. There, you find Baji alone with his cigarette. It would seem like the room is meant for meetings such as this one. The windows are high and there is no furniture saved for a folded mattress.

“I’ll leave you two, then,” Chifuyu bids goodbye before disappearing.

Alone with Baji, you have a pain in your stomach that wasn’t there before. His silence does not help either. You could almost hear the butt of his cigarette as he killed its ember and your own heartbeat clashing over the quietude.

“Baji, thank you for—”

“Why d’ya wanna find Bonten?” he cuts you off sharply, uninterested by any greetings. His modulation lacks hostility; there’s only plain curiosity. “I know you and Mikey were a thing before. So, if you’re hoping that you could relive that romance, I’ve got bad news for ya.”

“Woah, woah, I have to stop you right there.” You point at him, marred with the underlying insult of his statement. “I didn’t chase you around like a lost puppy just so I could ‘relive my romance’ with Mikey.”

Baji cocks his thick brow. “Then, what’s the reason?”

“I am a journalist,” you claim with pride, “and it’s my job to tell people stories. That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

“Forgive me but I’m a little lost. What kinda story are you planning to tell?” He sits on the floor then, eyeing you intently.

“I need an interview with a crime lord—” You raise your finger to stop his attempt at a word. “I know it sounds crazy and even foolish, but this is my job, my career. I have to see, even just a little bit, how a crime lord’s mind works.”

“Even at the expense of your own life?” he shoots the question without hanging back. Straightforward and definite. “Because y’know, he’s not Mikey anymore. Not the one we used to know, anyway. He kills people now. Heck, he does it as a hobby.”

When you have an imprinted version of a person in your mind, it’s difficult to accept someone else’s impression of them. Yet you know that Baji knows him better, before and even now, despite the years. You have held your composure before him but to no avail, swallowing down the thick lump formed in your throat.

“I have a plan,” is all you can think of saying, attacked by your own nerves. “But I need your help first.”

Baji lights another cigarette; his first puff clouding the plane of his face with thick smoke. “Seems like you’ve already decided. So, what’s gonna be my part in your story?”

A newfound confidence blooms as you witness Baji’s inclination to help. Not wasting a second, you say, “Tell me where I can find Bonten. Any clues, vague clues, I’ll take anything.”

“This is how it’s gonna be—” Baji leans forward, looking at you with those impassioned eyes while holding a folder: top-secret, it says on the cover. “I’m gonna tell you what you need to know. In return, you’re gonna lead me to Mikey. Just like you, some of us also need a breakthrough.”

—

The euphoria of successfully convincing Baji dwindles every time you have to open and read what it was inside the folder. As a journalist, you have already read about the most heinous crime committed by mankind, replaced by another crime, and then another. In truth, Bonten is your typical gang. Prostitution, murder, violence— the usual stuff. And yet it feels as though these names written on the pages of top-secret information are the sons of the devil themselves.

These are familiar names. These were the faces of boys you went to school with and bumped shoulders with while walking along the corridors. And one of them is the owner of your first kiss and first heartbreak.

Manjiro Sano.

The picture that is stapled on the right corner of his data is akin to what you saw on the television. Its grain texture makes clear how hard the photographer worked to catch him at just the right moment. Regardless of its shortcomings, the image satisfies the question you have about Mikey. Of how different he is compared to that boy, despite his best efforts to maintain his laid-back, prankster persona, who blushed like a ripe tomato when he kissed you for the first time.

There isn’t even a glimmer of light in the eyes of this Mikey; like looking into an endless abyss just before it swallows you whole. Even his once-blonde hair has changed to jet black and is shorter now.

If you were to stand face-to-face with this Mikey now, what would you do? What words could you possibly utter? Would he recognize you? All these belong to your futile attempts to find Bonten. You’ve spent weeks trying to find every bar and casino named in the folder, only to return home exhausted from yet another futile search.

You look out the window, staring at the bright LED lights curving at the shape of the club’s name. You send Baji a simple text regarding your location before walking in; a custom you both decided to practice just in case. The bar is buzzing with vivacious lights and loud speakers, seeming to be a standard nightclub where patrons enjoy getting wasted on alcohol. Your chances of finding Mikey have instantly decreased based only on that.

You are not giving up yet.

Making a beeline to the nearest bar counter, the air of citrus and cannabis paired with leathery musk follow your wake. You simultaneously survey the entire club as the bartender asks for your preferred beverage, to which you have replied, “Something light.” With the initial sip, the alcohol quickly brushes your throat, adding fire to your already heightened senses.

“Where does that hallway lead to?” The bartender leans forward at your inquiry. Then, you repeat, “That hallway filled with red lights.”

He smiles cheekily. “Oh, that’s for the sex workers. Their wardrobes, I mean.”

“Sex workers? Then, this is also a strip club?”

The bartender tips his head in confirmation.

During the shard of time you have been given, you have already concocted a way to confirm whether Mikey is in the club. As unobtrusive as you can, you amble straight to the red hallway, where a couple of workers are making their way out. They are dressed in silk and mesh, pantyhose and fishnets, stiletto and kitten heels.

Slipping inside once they are all gone has been easy, but it is opening the doors that isn’t. You curse sharply, trying the doorknob with all your might when it parted to reveal one worker.

“I… I…” you stutter.

She lifts a perfectly trimmed brow, imitating your floundering irritably. “What do you want?”

“I’m gonna get dressed.” Your throat bobs on account of the lie.

“Are you new? How about your things? Don’t tell me you forgot them at home?” she bombards.

“No! Of… of course not,” you struggle not to stammer, still sticking to your lie. “They are inside. I was… I needed to take a dump—”

She scrunches her nose and makes a gagging noise. “Alright, alright! Just hurry! We’re not gonna wait for ya.”

Your effective falsehood now faces another obstacle involving a selection of clothing from a variety of racks inside the room. If they aren’t fishnet tights, they are clothes of scanty fabric that will not cover whatever you want to hide. You take a deep and long breath, picking up the smooth satin chemise that extends down just enough to cover your butt.

As you draw nearer to the bouncers guarding the hallway where a bunch of workers have disappeared, you have been attacked by the sudden urge to flee. Do you really know what you’re about to do? Will the haste to which you have committed this decision save you from the possible doom lurking just behind these tall, muscular men?

The life of the party outside has diminished compared to the air inside the VIP room. Here, there is no sense of haste, no rubbing of sweat-covered bodies against one another. The women are dancing on the platform to some slow music with obscene lyrics. You have been hit by the whiff of expensive liquor, cigarettes, and of that sharp stale of danger.

“What are you doing? Go and do your job,” a girl hisses, collecting your arm and guiding you towards a pink-haired man seated on the bar stool. She flashes him a smile, one he did not return. “Enjoy the rest of your night, darling,” she says before pushing you a little closer to the unamused man.

You pump gas into your confidence so that it might be effective enough to get your hands moving. Finally, you palm his chest and pitch yourself between his thighs like a lost cat begging for scraps. He would not even pretend to spare you a glance, much to your chagrin.

“This… this is my first time. I… I’m sorry,” you stutter, tilting your head up to bravely meet his eyes. There, your world completely and utterly flipped at the sight of two scars on both sides of his mouth. Haruchiyo Sanzu.

“Haruchiyo,” someone calls not a distance away from Sanzu. Hidden by the shadows, you cannot tell who it is, and the voice is too low to make you doubt if you truly heard something, but then it adds, “Switch with me.”

Switch with whom? You must’ve plastered the inquiry shamelessly onto your face, for Sanzu, not having any semblance that he remembers you, points you toward the location of the voice.

You amble your way to the shadows, where a woman in a slight mood picks up her feet and saunters to Sanzu’s direction. Then a light switches on to illuminate the darkness, a red light, casting ironically soft shadows across his face.

Your heart lodges in your throat at his sight. Those nights of letting your thoughts wander around Manjiro Sano have given injustice to the man before you now. Yes, there are little traces of that boy you fell in love with in high school in the planes of his face, in his eyes, nose, and lips. However, there is none of the life and energy he perpetually used to own.

“I didn’t know you’re working for me;” are the words he has issued. “Sit.”

You are stuck in place; disoriented, utterly clueless, and yes, terrified. He will devour you, and it will hurt, but he won’t stop; that’s a promise painted in his eyes. Eyes that used to shine brightly you would not see them without delight.

“I said, sit,” he repeats, voice staccato.

The impatience imbued in his tone has effaced your immobility. You sit beside him, too close for your own comfort, but unable to move farther lest you tempt his patience.

He wears a different perfume now— stronger and more virile.

“Didn’t know you’d end up in a strip club. You’ve always been a dreamer, right? Big dreams in a small city,” he comments before taking a quaff of his bottle. “You’re new, aren’t you? What do they call you ‘round here?”

You want to speak so badly, to answer his inquiries as to prove or convince yourself there’s nothing to be afraid of, but you feel sand grazing your throat.

“C’mon now, I’m not going to hurt you. Not yet.” If he has tried to invigorate, he entirely failed in doing so. A lingering sense of danger coils around his air; like a snake pulling its body to strike.

Still, you attempt to get your lips moving. “I… The truth is, Mikey, I have been looking for you.”

“To get back together?” He turns to you.

“No! I mean…” You swallow after minding your tone. Would it be safe to tell him the truth? In the end, you’ve decided against it and said, “I… I want to know how you’ve been all these years.”

Mikey cackles. He cackles so loud the others start facing your direction, making you feel utterly feeble and small under their attention. What was so funny? Nothing, you think, because his eyes did not reflect his mirth.

“Not to get back I see,” he says between sputters of laughter. “What do you think now that you’ve seen me? Dissatisfied? Disappointed?”

Are you disappointed? You try to find that feeling; there’s none. What’s there has been the understanding that Mikey displayed many times before his petrifying potential to be what he is now. Everyone had just turned a blind eye.

“Mikey, I—” You eat the words when Sanzu makes a move beside Mikey. He leans forward, one hand securing his gun, as he whispers something which has been swiftly understood by his leader.

He faces you again while the women shuffle out of the room and the rest of Bonten gather their keys and guns.

“Leave. Don’t come searching for me again or I’ll put a bullet between your eyes.”

Your heart drops instantly. Tears seared the back of your eyes and a stupid sob rose from your throat. Before you can choke on it, you pick your feet up and dash for the exit. The hallway blurs as you hastily wipe your dry cheek merely to secure that none can see any tear from falling.

Baji is right. He has always been right. How could you be so foolish? Mikey kills people now. An interview, huh? You’d be six feet under before the first question—

A shriek, you know it belonged to you; filled with terror and confusion. Somebody is behind you, somebody pulls your body, somebody holds a kerchief to cover your nose and mouth. That’s the end of it before tightness pulls your chest together and the world falls apart. Utter darkness soon follows.

—

You are losing sense of time the same way you are about to lose your mind. If there’s anything that your current affairs have made you understand, it is that a human is in possession of bottomless sorrow and anxiety. Your cheeks are never dry and your stomach is equally alive on its own to haul out what little contents it had. The anxiety has driven you dormant on a king-sized bed of which soft mattress offers you no comfort. It’s been hours since the last you’ve seen another soul, when you awoke in the same room with Manjiro Sano watching and sitting beside you on the bed.

“M… Mikey?” Your words were corded with lethargy, then, as though dreamland had not freed you yet. He looked unreal, frightening in his laconic state and invariable countenance. For a moment you thought of him as just another fabric of a nightmare but then it slammed into you with a force; the reality of what happened in the nightclub up to the moment you were kidnapped. “Where am I?” you asked breathlessly, fear starting to beat in your chest. He did not answer. “Where am I?!”

“Didn’t you say you’re looking for me?” He tilted his head to the side; wonderment plastered on his face like that of a curious child. “You’re here. I’m here.”

“You—!” Anger flashed, you gritted your teeth, but it diminished into trepidation. Without restraint, the tears poured forth. “You kidnapped me!” you choked.

His patience shriveled by the accusation and he made its grandiose display by fishing for his gun tucked away in his pants. Mikey held the revolver lazily, as though it couldn’t kill with but a single pull of the trigger.

Your heart once again plummeted.

“I’m a bit lost…” he dragged languorously while scratching his temple with the muzzle, “you said you’re looking for me. Now that I’m with you, you wanna go home. You have to tell me the truth or else I’m gon’ be so pissed. Why the fuck were you looking for me?”

Tear-stained cheeks and mouth bursting with sobs, you told him the truth. “I… I’m not a hooker, Mikey. I’m a journalist. I wanted…” Speaking was like swallowing scorching coals. Still, with great effort you pushed through. “I had to interview a crime lord. It’s… it’s my job and I thought… I thought I could convince you…”

He leapt to his feet while singing, circling the bed, and displaying not an ounce of recognition for the gravity of the crime he committed. Refusing to blink due to palpable fear, you watched each miniscule movement he performed through the tears blurring your sight.

“I gotta admit, you’re fucking brave. You’ve always got that spirit in you.” He cocked the gun to your direction. You fought a whimper as death stared you right in the face. “So, you wanna sit with me, you and your camera and stupid questions. Is that it?”

“If that’s not what you want… I won’t force you, Mikey,” you breathed out, “Just please, let me go. Let me go. I won’t bother you again—”

“I’ll do it,” interrupted Mikey, his indifference to your cries was unmitigated. “In one condition.”

“It’s alright,” you convinced him while holding out your hand as if to placate his temper. “You don’t need to do it, Mikey. I understand, I truly—”

He abruptly stopped to look at you and said, barred against any protest, “I said I’ll do it. For you.”

Teardrops clung desperately to your lashes, and they rolled down your heated cheeks when you fluttered your eyes closed. You inhaled slowly before peeling them open again. “What… what do you want in return?”

“I remember now: I never got a taste of your pussy.” With raptorial enthusiasm he stood before the foot of the bed, possessing a full view of your body in a flimsy chemise which did nothing to conceal you. Gaiety was one of Mikey’s old signature traits. He had always been the kind of boy whose animation was easily perceived in the twinkle of his eyes and a tint of flushed pink on his cheeks. You could almost swear that for a moment that boy had been resurrected, only that his current buoyancy was owned by malevolence.

“No, Mikey, no,” you responded desperately paired with a wagging of the head. “Please. Anything but that, I will do.”

“I’ve been waiting for this time to come around.” His voice thickened, cheeks suddenly aglow with desire. “Truth is, I didn’t wanna disturb your peaceful life. But what could I possibly do? I had to see you. I had to do something. Then you came looking for me. That just means we’re meant to be together, right?”

“Mikey, please, just let me go home—”

“Home! Home! Home!” Mikey snapped, his violent outburst of carding through and tugging at his hair made you nauseous. “This is your home now. You’re not going anywhere else. So, you have to be a good girl. A really good girl…”

Everything was decided when Mikey worked the buttons and zipper of his pants. You wept for the last time; for the boy he once was, and for the person you’d become.

His cock peeked out of his boxers, a small pool of precum leaking from its flushed cocktip. It bobbed and slapped once against his navel before standing proud on its own, veins crawling around its generous shaft. He silently motioned you to crawl with a gun in his hand. You thought of catching the weapon from him, but the consequences were a horror so substantial you’d decided against it.

“Suck,” he commanded, eyes glazed with undiluted lust. “‘S all yours.”

Another whimper managed to slip out of you, causing your lips to brush against the slick precum on his tip. Mikey took it as augmentation to his pleasure and with his aching cock he desirously parted your lips to shove it inside your warm maw. Lack of words defeated him and instead groaned like a maniac before taking your head and thrusting his shaft greedily down your throat.

Taking pains to adjust your mouth for little comfort, you gagged repeatedly with saliva dripping from your crevices. Tears pricked your eyes again; the humiliation and struggle for air had rendered you weak.

Mikey continued in his assault, popping his cock back with a force to slam the skin below his navel repeatedly on your nose. Anchoring himself by gripping your hair, he shamelessly milked his cock to the base with the expense of ruining your mouth. Your cheek puffed persistently as he positioned your head in one place and fucked the gummy muscles inside like his life depended on it; his spit-coated balls clapping your chin in the process.

“Been dreaming… of this… for a long time—” Revealing his lust were the slurred words that did not make sense. He was mumbling like a fool while fucking your mouth, chest heaving painfully. “Wanted my cock between your pretty lips… ah! Fuck!”

Mikey surrendered to incessant curses, his body shivering at the sheer amount of pleasure that seemed to overwhelm him, and yet his hips couldn’t stay inert. Regardless of the tremors in his muscles, he persisted to pitch his lower body and therefore rammed his whole girth down your poor and ravaged throat. Portraying such a slippery mess of you was a mix of snot, tears, and spit. Until Mikey, an animalistic moan crawling up from his guts, took his lubricious cock out and pumped a surge of thick loads onto your face. Cum that was both viscid and heavy smeared your skin, cheek, lips, and eyelids with potency.

You barely had recollected your wits, had not even gained the luxury to clean his cum off your face, or gargle away his pervasive taste that was still on your tongue when he said:

“Lay down.” Patience was nonexistent in his tone nor did compunction mar his countenance; the order had no room for disobedience.

With the oppressive presence of his gun, which he did not let go of regardless of the circumstances, you could only sob, hoping that somewhere in between he’d see the sixteen-year-old girl he loved before and had violated now.

Reluctance exuded in every movement you took to lay down; fear had engulfed you once more when Mikey joined you on the mattress. He climbed on top of you, ensnaring your body with the devotion beating alive in his eyes. Devotion that made you sick to your stomach.

“You look so beautiful,” he whispered in wonderment, softly running his thumb along your jaw and planting affectionate kisses all over your face. His cum didn’t bother him one bit, for he ran his tongue over your skin and lapped on the thick semen to taste himself. “So… so pretty.”

“Mikey… stop this… stop this… please,” you whimpered, fisting on his shirt and turning your face away from his lecherous tongue. “Don’t do it… Please!”

He couldn’t be persuaded; he regarded your frailty as a doorway to his wicked desires. Mikey pushed your trepidation to its peak by lifting your chemise to reveal your underwear. His cock stood hard poking your thigh; growing even more at the sight before him. His balls remained heavy, too, as if he hadn’t just blasted out a lot of cum.

“Ssh. Quit it, pretty girl. Just let it go… let it go,” he warbled softly, his breath fanning your cheek until he found your breasts almost peeking out of your gauzy dress. When his tongue connected to your nipple through the satin fabric of your chemise, resentment seized you in its grip that, in spite of the repercussions, you started pounding Mikey’s head while screaming.

“Please! Help! Help!” Your continuous assault threw him out of balance, granting you an opening to run for the door. “Help me! Help!”

But before your foot met the cold floor, Mikey pulled the trigger, the bullet zinging past to shatter the nearest vase. It happened so fast you had not the time to do anything but scream and fold in on yourself while covering your ears.

Mikey emitted his vexation with a groan. “Don’t make me hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you,” he sibilated close to your ear, pinning his weapon just beside your head. “Do you really think you can escape? There’s no help coming your way so why don’t you fucking behave? Because I’m telling you now, pretty, the next bullet might find your brain.”

You could only choke on a strangled sob when he parted your thighs with sharp urgency. No amount of stress from your recent behavior had had an effect on him and his desire. His carnality was an unstoppable current; for Mikey it must be sated promptly. He ripped your underwear right on the crotch to make room for his greedy cock.

It’s gonna hurt. It’s gonna hurt. It’s gonna hurt.

Mikey pumped his hips to jam his hard girth into your cunt; his forehead creasing at the dryness that welcomed him there. It did not deter him, of course, no force in the world could. He spat on his free palm, shivering at the inconvenience of taking his cock out, and moistened the pulsing girth before ramming it again to your cunt hole. His success was celebrated with nonstop thrusting; fucking you at a pace of a man deprived of your cunt for so long. Mikey slowed down, certainly, prolonging the release of another hot load that had started to tickle his plump balls.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he taunted, dragging his cock from the root to tip, feeling your walls clench around him in spite of yourself. “See, you’re squeezin’ me so hard, pretty girl. You love this.”

You stifled a sob by covering your mouth, eyes entirely fixed on the ceiling, your mind working strenuously to block out the sensation of being fucked against your wishes.

“Oh, fuck,” Mikey dragged, long and breathless. His gun clattered on the floor as he focused on entirely fucking you instead. Tossing you on your stomach, he shoved his cock with ease from behind. With no zeal to support your knees, you went flat on the bed as he pumped and pumped endlessly, his navel and your ass clapping together. “I love this pussy,” he brought his lips close to your ear and deliriously whispered. “Fuck— yes, pretty girl, that’s right. Squeeze me tight with your perfect cunt.”

The pillows were all soaked with your tears. Everything hurts; your bones were in perpetual agony at Mikey’s pace, even your cunt burned from the force of his ceaseless thrusts.

Mikey attached his lips to your cheek, teeth grazing your skin. “I’m gon’ cum so hard in your pussy, pretty girl. Cum so fuckin’ much you’ll be pregnant once I’m done with you.” Mikey slanted down his whole weight on your back as if wanting to glue himself there, and with a few equally powerful thrusts he dumped another round of hot cum straight to your womb; he filled your gummy walls with such density— that, when he pulled out with white and thick strings sticking to his throbbing girth, and jammed his cock into your cunt hole again, fat amounts of cum filtered from your pussy, like an overflowing glass.

Desensitized you were to the highest degree of what transpired in that room, you had not the bones to even wriggle free out of Mikey’s embrace once he was done with you. And so, against your comfort, you allowed him to be all over you on the same bed. He was speaking gibberish, talking of family and keeping you beside him as a dutiful wife. To hear such make-believe roll from his mouth, it almost felt more wicked than the offense he had committed against you.

It has been hours since then, and Mikey has not returned yet. With a start, you embrace yourself when the door opens to reveal Sanzu. He carries several bags in his hand and places them on the floor without a regard to your current situation.

“You have ten minutes to dress,” he delivers and on seeing you inert, therefore adds with evident rancor, “Get your ass moving before Mikey comes here and fetches you himself.”

What miracle has given you enough stability to do Mikey’s bidding is a mystery even to yourself. Within the given timeframe, you have scrubbed the stickiness off your skin despite the exhaustion clinging to your body. It’s the fear, you suppose, that has managed to ironically give you strength to carry on. If you want out of this godforsaken place, you have to remain alive, and to do that you have to please Mikey.

Having bestowed the false liberty to leave your room, you have had the chance to observe your current dwelling; which is situated not a distant away from the shore. The seas surround you, you think with a pounding heart, and it’s definitely miles away from the city. You chew on your bottom lip to prevent the anxiety from freeing your tears. Where, exactly, are you?

Sanzu cuts your deep reverie by opening a door and motioning you to follow. Another wave of nausea taunts your stomach, for in there, Mikey and the rest of Bonten welcomed you with undivided attention. You have seen as well the cameras and ring lights situated on different angles inside the room.

‘I still think this is a bad idea,’ you heard a man with a mullet, Rindou Haitani, whisper to his brother, Ran Haitani. To which the latter replies, ‘Yeah? Try telling Mikey that and have your brains sticking to the wall.’

“Let’s not waste time,” Mikey pronounces to everyone in the room, “Shall we begin the interview? Gotta give my pretty girl what she wants.”

Finally, with solid conviction, you consider him downright insane and vile. Mikey is the personification of endless torment by using against you the very reason why you are here in the first place. But you have to survive, whatever the cost, and so you take a seat on a stool close to him. Everything you need has been prepared; from the lapel to the interview questions they’ve personally made. You want it to be over and done, proceeding with haste to ask him the first question when all of a sudden, a noise from a helicopter flying overhead infiltrates the silence.

As if strings that have been plucked, every Bonten member have risen to their feet except for Mikey. Kokonoi Hajime, with an intelligible curse, declared that they have been found by the police.

You have made yourself as small as possible in the growing tension inside the room, while your hopes have enlarged an extensive amount. Everyone cock their guns, hissing and cursing at each other while barking orders. Mikey is evidently frustrated, even more so when your eyes have met across the room. He takes a step to get to you, and you see only the reincarnation of all your nightmares as he approaches, that you, with all your might, snatches Ran Haitani’s gun amidst the chaos and holds onto it for dear life.

“Don’t come close! I will fucking shoot you!” you bellow, fresh tears rolling down your cheeks, hand shaking. “I’ll kill you, Mikey! I swear to God, don’t come near me!”

“Pretty girl, you have guts, but that’s not a toy,” he suspires, showing not an ounce of fear for his safety.

“Mikey, we have to go!” Sanzu secures Mikey’s arm but he wouldn’t budge.

Although everyone is looking at you, they have all frozen in place after hearing that Mikey would be killed if they ventured any closer. Despite the visible wobble in your knees, you seize the chance to take a step back and exit the room. However, a barrage of gunfire has come from the outside between the police and Bonten’s goons. Despite having trouble breathing because of fear, you persisted and fled for your life while carrying the pistol.

“Do not fucking shoot!” You have heard Mikey’s uproar in seeing you running away from him. “Do not fucking shoot, you motherfuckers!”

You despair the moments you have been caught in the crossfire; despaired that yet again, you have committed such foolishness, but hopeful that this will save your life. For a brief moment you believe in yourself exceedingly, because there is Baji beckoning for you to run faster, to him and to freedom. Over the hounding death, your hands connect and you want to believe, so badly, that you are finally safe.

“Baji…” You look at him with horror, and he returns the same expression, if not ten fold, when he perceives the blood and realizes that you have been shot.

—

It’s a fine morning when you wake up; the sunlight has kissed your cheek with its warmth and promise of a rainless day. You quickly rise to savor the last hours of pleasant light before it turns too hot to enjoy. With a mug of brewed coffee, you pitch yourself comfortably on the niche in the window, letting the whisper of air and the song of birds rejoice in the background.

In this moment of stillness, you still haven’t found the remedy to stop reminiscing about the past, it being the gruesome events you had to suffer in the hands of Mikey. Nightmares frequently plague your sleep, and you’ve never been able to sleep soundly without being startled awake by a pounding heart and cold sweats. He inhibits your terrors, for he has shaped the very meaning of fear into his image.

You have since relocated to a different address, grateful that your company allowed you to work from home until you can face the world again. If you could change your face and name, you would, just to have a little bit of security and continue life as it is.

Baji regularly checks up on you with constant apologies and saying that forever, he will carry the guilt of leaving you alone. You have assured him time and time again, it’s you who sought him for his help. And it wasn’t truly in vain as three of Bonten’s executives were apprehended by the police. Mikey not being one of them is the only disappointment. Even with that horrifying truth, you have endured. After all, you have only one choice and that’s to move forward.

As night falls, the heat of the day builds into thick, hazy clouds, and with the absence of stars, rain starts to pour. Maybe it’s paranoia delivered by the sound of raindrops beating against the roof, but your anxiety once again had you fishing for the gun in your closet. Even though it never warms your hands, you may at least feel the security it offers.

You browse mindlessly for a show to occupy your time, but they fail to tether your attention. The rain outside hasn’t abated at all; it’s simply gotten worse that it drowns out the sound of your television. Remembering that you haven’t eaten anything, you brave the sound of thunder, making your way to the kitchen to reheat some left-overs.

And certainly, given how loud the doorbell rang in your ear, you could have sworn it sounded like a bomb.

It’s past midnight. You haven’t ordered any take out food either. But Baji… Baji did say he’d visit.

You went back for the gun and gripped it tightly while keeping it concealed behind you. In that particular moment, you whisper a gratitude to yourself for installing a video doorbell, yet you cannot watch without your heart melting in terror.

The rain continues its fury in the background. Lightning strikes the skies, followed by the loud boom of thunder. And you, picking up the little pieces of your courage, watch the little screen as it flashed a live video of someone by your door.

You watch him while gasping on a sob, head pounding, your hands visibly shaking.

He peers at the camera with one eye open, made bone-chillingly sinister by the fisheye lens, and says:

“Pretty girl, shall we continue where we left off?”

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uchihabucketlist · 4 months

Note

Oooh do explain more your thoughts on big brother sasuke and big brother itachi. Both of them together gives me the tingles🥴

AAKDNEJDRJCIRBFJCB ME TOO BBY. I have so many thoughts ab the Uchiha brothers UGHHHH

Tags: incest, double incest, somno, noncon, bj, voyeurism, competitive Uchiha brudders ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა♡

𓈒 ﹒ ☆ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ ☆ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ ࣭

Big brudders who are so different but are both obsessed wif their little sister. Sasuke is harsh and short with you at times, but incredibly sweet when no one else is around. He’ll sneak into your room at night if he wraps up a mission early and will lick at your little pussy until the sun breaks through the curtains. You’ll wake up on the edge of an orgasm and sleep still coating your throat, “Sasuke— i-is that you?”

No one can know that he diddles his sister, least of all Itachi who is almost violently protective over you, so Sasuke throws a big palm over your mouth to shut you up.

Some nights, when Sasuke is feeling extra pent-up and Itachi is gone, he’ll rub his cock in between your pussy lips while you’re asleep and cum into the cotton fabric of your panties for you to find in the morning. Itachi has always had this claim on you as the eldest, and that drives Sasuke nuts.

So when Itachi returns home the next morning and you’ve gotten yourself sticky with another man’s cum, well, he’s going to have to mark his territory.

Sasuke can hear the wet clicking of spit, stopping in his tracks at the open door of your bedroom with horror twisted on his face. Itachi’s got his long, fat cock so far in your mouth he’s bulging in your throat. Tears are spilling over your cheeks, you don’t even notice Sasuke, but Itachi does.

“How does it feel?” Itachi’s words are clipped around a moan but still so soft and patient. He pulls out all the way to trace your lips with his pretty, flushed-red tip.

“I- it hurst, ‘Tachi,” you warble, “but I can take it.”

Sasuke’s blood boils, veins all but popping under his skin. He’s left to watch wordlessly and ignore his hard-on with clenched fists.

“I know you can, because you have to.”

❥ ᴄʜɪᴡʜᴏʀᴇɪ.2023©️ ᴀʟʟ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢs ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ. Dᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ.

𓈒 ﹒ ☆ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ ☆ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ ࣭

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uchihabucketlist · 5 months

Text

Love Stings

Yandere Male Aqrabuamelu (scorpion man) x Chubby Female Reader (CW: Violent Noncon, oviposition, paralytic venom, reader gets stung, stalking, stalking, scratching, biting, claiming bites, crying, mild scent kink, blood, mild blood kink, Stockholm syndrome, kidnapping, escape attempt, general yandere behavior) Word Count: 4.7k (This was commissioned at the end of September. It is hard for me to write afab reader. Don't worry though, I do not accept payment until I am done or almost done. The customer wished to remain anon. I hope everyone likes it.)

To most people, the wastelands of Treregar were just that, wastelands. Harsh sunlight, miles of seemingly endless sand, with water sources few and far between. Nothing but the hardiest flora and fauna could survive there for any significant length of time. Let alone thrive indefinitely.

But you were not most people. You were a scientist. And to scientists, the wastes were a gold mine of research potential. Some of the strangest creatures and plants called this place home. And with the country now open to outsiders, researchers wanted to make a breakthrough there. You were in search of biological samples that could have medicinal properties.

But the wilder parts of this country were very dangerous. Especially the desert wastes. There were even reports of explorers and scientists going missing and of large chitinous beasts prowling the sands. But you were not going to be deterred by a few tall tales. The others had probably fallen prey to the harsh environment if anything.

Still... it didn't hurt to have a couple bodyguards. You had arranged an escort of a couple fairly priced and reliable mercenaries, two large men by the names of Mr. Whitley and Mr. Matthews, to accompany you while you procured samples for study.

You also came with fully stocked packs and kept to a region near a small river. You didn't believe in letting stories run your life, but there was no need to take unnecessary risks either.

The first thing you did on your arrival, after setting up a base camp with your escorts, was starting your task by taking samples of the river water and the muck at the bottom. There was a good possibility of finding new microbes that could be of interest.

The water was crystal clear, perhaps the purest you had ever seen, and there were no signs of anything dangerous. The biggest danger was the heat. Despite the water submerging your legs and wetting your arms whenever you collected a sample the heat was still stifling.

But you had known what you were signing up for when you started all this and it would only get harder as you started collecting samples outside of the water.

When you collected plant and insect specimens from the fertile banks of the river you had to keep wiping the sweat from your brow. You kept the samples preserved in a specially cooled container that would allow you to study them at length later when you were back home.

Once you had all that you had gathered that day packed away, you ate alone in your tent, Mr. Whitley and Mr. Matthews were not exactly the best company, but that was okay. It wasn’t their companionship that they were being paid for.

When you had finished your meal, if you could even call one unit of mystery field rations a meal, you decided that it would be a good idea to go to bed early. Tomorrow’s adventure would be deeper into the wastes and you would need all the rest you could manage. It was going to be a bit rough on you. You were used to working in laboratory conditions not out in the field. But you knew what you were getting yourself into.

Whitley and Matthews guarded the camp in shifts, but even under their protection you couldn’t shake the feeling like you were being watched as you settled into an uneasy sleep.

On day two of the expedition, after eating another bland ration for breakfast and refilling your water supplies, you found something before you even set out. Odd tracks outside your camp, a good bit away but they were still close enough to creep you out a bit. Whatever had made them was not small.

But you had protection from any threats and you were handy with the knife you kept in your belt at all times. And whatever had made the tracks was gone now. You put it out of your mind and pushed onward.

As the cooler morning hours passed, you were really suffering as you had to start your trek into the desert proper. The organisms suited to such a brutal environment were what you were really interested in. Far more so than what lived in the relatively cool waters.

The sun beat down upon you with all the heat it could manage but still you trudged on. Miles and miles of sand. Stopping only to diligently take new samples and record field notes any time you encountered something new and promising.

You and your guards were overheated, exhausted, and aching. But it would surely be worth it for the scientific knowledge gained by your collective suffering. You all had finally started the long march back to camp when you could have sworn you felt like you were being watched. Whitley must have noticed something off as well as he stopped your trek home to look around. But the worry was discarded when in the distance a giant wall of sand materialized as if from nowhere, It rushed towards you like a great red tidal wave.

A sudden sandstorm.

It was upon you and your escorts in a thrice, you could see nothing at all in front of you as looking up for even a moment would invite the angry sands to scratch at your delicate eyes. From all your studies on the region in your preparation for this trip you had found sandstorms to be very rare this time of year. Your luck was astoundingly terrible.

All you could do in this situation was stay low to the ground, wait it out, and hope that you and your body guards didn’t get blown away. You also prayed that they both had the good sense to not try to walk in this mess. That would only welcome disaster. Trying to stumble about in this weather was a guaranteed method to find yourself lost and stranded in the desert.

On and on the storm raged, sand scraping and biting into any exposed flesh, until finally the whirling winds gradually declined before subsiding altogether. Leaving no trace of what had just transpired except scratches on your arms and legs and the ebbing adrenaline leaving your system rendering you shaky on your feet.

You were sore and stiff from laying in the same position so long. You took a good look around you only to discover that disaster had indeed been welcomed. Neither Whitley or Matthews were anywhere in your sight. Idiots. They were large men, not easily slipped up by the storm and rolled down a hill as you were. The weather couldn’t have pushed them very far. They clearly decided to keep trying to travel despite the obvious foolishness.

Well… they were not exactly getting paid for their brain power. But they were paid to keep you safe. To guard you. And they couldn’t exactly do that if they were determined to be idiots who wandered away from you!

When you made your report they were certainly getting docked for this.

Assuming that you all met back up. You probably would. Eventually. If they lacked a compass like you did then they could just head east until they hit the river and then travel up until they hit the camp. If they didn’t have one they would have to wait a little while and see what direction the sun headed in.

The direction the sun sets actually changes a bit throughout the year, but the autumn equinox had only just transpired so it would certainly set at the most west that it was possible for it to set.

You hoped those two knew that. Surely they did.

Right then you had to focus on yourself though. Without those two you were far more vulnerable. You were not really worried about the wildlife or anything such as that, but if you became injured or something all alone then you would be screwed. Something as simple as a sprained ankle could mean your death out in this blistering environment if you were left exposed to the elements long enough.

You shouldn’t have ventured so far from camp. Your body was aching with exhaustion. You were a bit on the chubby side and your body was not used to being pushed so hard. You perked up when you saw a large figure of a man standing in the distance walking in the same general direction as you were.

“WHITLEY! HEY, OVER HERE!!”

He evidently heard you as he turned around to face your direction and started walking towards you. As you got closer you could tell that other than a few abrasions from the storm he did not seem to be in bad shape.

“I am glad I found you”

You wanted to tell him he would not have had to worry about finding one another if he had just stayed put but you thought better of it and held your tongue.

“I think something may be watching us, I don’t know. I just have an uneasiness and feel like the air has shifted with a barely noticeable scent. I lost my sword in the storm.”

“Then… we better hurry back to camp… Maybe Matthews will be there…”

“Right.”

You noticed he had undone his dagger from his belt and was holding it close, ready to lash out if something attacked the two of you. He may not have had his longer blade but you knew he was still deadly with that one. He would surely protect yo-

The sand in front of you shifted, and from it sprung a beast of colossal size. Hard black chitinous plating gleamed in the sunlight, covering a monstrous form from top to bottom. It was a hulking beast with a human shaped torso on top of the body of a massive scorpion.

Whitley, to his credit, didn’t hesitate. He dodged the tail that struck at him with terrifying speed. He jumped up high and slammed his combat knife into the chitin covered chest of the beast. His blade was deflected as if by plate armor. The tail struck again at an angle Whitley couldn’t dodge in time and his arm was impaled by a wickedly sharp stinger. He twitched in pain for a moment then went limp before being pushed aside by the clawed arm of the scorpion half of the great beast before you.

Then the thing turned its gaze to you. Unblinking, glossy, entirely black eyes stared you down. If eyes were the windows into one’s soul then those eyes let you look into the soul of a demon.

Hopeless though it may be with the speed of the monstrosity you did the only thing your fear stricken brain could think of. You ran.

You ran and you didn’t look back. Cruel though it may have been, you found yourself thinking that maybe it would let you go since it had already taken down Mr. Whitley. Many predatory beasts did not take down more than what they needed.

But the scorpion hybrid wasn’t after food. Humans were not in his diet. No, he was after something much better than a meal. He was after a mate. A nice wet cunt to stuff full of his eggs.

When Kurnugi first caught your scent in the wind a couple days ago he was instantly intrigued, he had never smelled something quite so enticing before. He had to investigate. Though a few miles away he sniffed out your camp and watched for a while.

He didn’t really like the thought of humans in his territory but he stopped himself from attacking and scaring you all away because of you. Your smell was nice, sure, but now that he had seen you he knew he had to know more. You looked so delightfully fragile and soft. He wanted to watch you a bit longer before deciding what to do with you all.

Kurnugi observed you as you went about your tasks at the river. Delicate hands carefully tending to samples. He did not understand why you were doing it, but he liked the thought of those careful little human hands tending to his dick.

At first the scorpion man thought that perhaps the two large males with you were mates of yours but concluded that wasn’t the case as they never shared your nest, never physically touched you, and hardly verbally communicated with you. They seemed to just guard you and keep a lookout.

But they had been unable to spot Kurnugi given how well he stuck to the shadows, used sand to submerge himself partially, and carefully remained downwind of his quarry.

The longer he watched the more he realized how good a mate you would make. Too weak to ever oppose or escape him and he could tell by the way you collected and analyzed your little samples that you must be very intelligent. And you were just so much softer than anything he had ever encountered in this rugged environment. Surely if you were in a place as brutal as this then you’d need much better and dedicated protection than the ones you seemed to call Whitley and Matthews.

Kurnugi was much larger and stronger than any two humans, of course, no matter how well built they were. But they had long metal blades that may be able to get between his natural armor plates. Better to stalk your group for a while and wait for a moment of weakness.

He discreetly followed your party as you traveled away from your base camp and readied himself to attack when he noticed how tired all of you looked. Then the sandstorm struck.

Even a desert evolved being such as a mighty aqrabuamelu would not travel during a sandstorm.

When it passed he could tell by the scents he detected that your group was split up. This was even better. First he went after Matthews, then incapacitated Whitley before your very eyes. He had made sure not to kill them. No, they would surely be taken and bred by other desert creatures. There were many that loved humans.

And then there was you. It was cute how you thought you could escape from him so easily. He allowed you to try, watching in amusement as your tired chubby legs did their best to carry you away from him.

And then he rushed towards you, he closed the distance in surprisingly few seconds and stabbed your soft rear with the tip of his stinger. He was careful not to stab too deeply, but it was still pretty painful. You thrashed for a few seconds before crumpling to the sand.

The venom had paralyzed you, no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t get your limbs to cooperate at all. You could still feel everything though. The sand on your face, the tears about to burst from your eyes. You were certain death was what awaited you.

Instead the scorpion simply bent over to gently scoop you up in his humanoid arms. He held you close and buried his nose in your neck to revel in the intoxicating smell of his new mate, now finally in his possession.

The amorous aqrabuamelu rushed off to his den, holding you tightly to his hard body as he did so. He was excited to get you acclimated to your new home, and to his cock. He was sure after his displays of strength that he would have you moaning for his eggs in no time. Luckily his home wasn’t too far.

The entire trip he happily talked in a chittery voice to you, though you had absolutely no idea what he was saying. He sounded extremely excited though and rubbed your back soothingly as he spoke.

When he came to the entrance to his abode and scuttled into the cave in such a hurry that he almost tripped over himself. He placed you, all nice and paralyzed for him, on his raised pile of bedding and made short work of your clothing. Every inch of skin from your soft human breasts to your inviting pussy were laid bare under his hungry gaze.

He pulled you to the edge of his nest over to where he was standing. He gripped your thighs with his large hands and slowly spread your legs, as if unwrapping a precious gift. Savoring the moment before it was entirely open.

The venom was still coursing effectively through your veins, offering you no recourse. You could only stare into the terrifying red eyes of this abomination as he looked at you and drooled. His intent with you becoming all the more evident as his engorged cock protruded fully from the genital slit at the meeting of his scorpion and humanoid body segments.

There was no way something like that could enter a human without some degree of pain.

Seeing it you wanted to scream. To kick and fight. But you were a prisoner in your own body. All the struggle you could force out of your body were choked cries and grunts of fear.

The scorpion caressed your sides in a gesture meant to be comforting to his scared little mate, but any touch from him only brought about more terror.

He crouched down at the edge of the bed so that his head was level with your crotch. He inhaled the scent deeply before licking the outer folds of your sex.

"Mmmm~"

You could feel it in your entire body as he hummed loudly in contentment. Your flavor was better than he could have imagined.

Your cunt was wetter than it had ever been before. A fact that made you all the more frustrated and angry at yourself. It was bad enough you couldn't get your body to move.

Kurnugi was making out with your entrance, gripping your hips painfully and drawing blood as he lost himself in thoughts about you carrying his spawn.

He enjoyed every heavenly drop of your juices, mixing in a heavy amount of his saliva into you so that you were as lubricated as possible.

He decided you were as ready as you could be and rose up to press his cock against you.

Kurnugi rubbed the tip of his strange inhuman prick against your pussy, grinding against it. He let out a low moan as he plunged into you all at once, unable to hold himself back from doing so any longer. The paralytic you had been drugged with must have started to wear off by that point because as he shoved himself into you you were finally able to scream a bit and grip the bedding beneath you.

The length was insane but the worst part was the thickness. It was like it was trying to rip you open. He gave you time to adjust before he began his thrusting, but there was just no getting adjusted to that type of size in such a short amount of time without a lot more preparation.

You flinched and gasped in pain as he began slowly moving in and out of you.

The scent and sight of the bit of your blood that mixed with your fluids and smeared on his cock only seemed to excite him and he increased the pace, the outline of his cock plainly visible under the skin of your belly. He used one of his hands to rub at the outline as it moved back and forth inside of you, effectively giving himself a handjob while he bred you.

He lowered his head to your chest and ferally bit and licked at your breasts. Instinct demanding he marked and claimed what was, by all laws of the desert, his property.

After what seemed like an eternity you finally had acclimated to the size of the man taking you and began feeling less pain with flashes of pleasure. Chasing those brief flashes, you weakly grinded into each thrust from the scorpion.

Kurnigi’s roaming mouth had found your neck and was sucking and nipping at your soft skin there as if his life depended on it.

The stimulation was only feeling better as the two of you continued, your cries of fear and pain having long since been replaced by weak lusty moans and shivers of delight. You came a couple times and by the third you were completely fucked out. You had never orgasmed so hard in your life and were barely aware of anything other than that nice feeling between your shaky legs.

Kurnugi finally hit his climax as well and bit your neck hard as he did so, injecting something into your neck to leave a permanent claiming mark on you. You flinched in pain but it receded quickly, you were too out of it to really care what he did to you at that point.

Until you felt him cum into you. Your eyes went wide at the sensation as you felt relatively large round masses being pumped deeply into you.

Eggs.

You were shocked and disgusted, but there was nothing to be done about it then. You let the aqrabuamelu lick your various scratches and bite wounds clean before tucking you in with blankets so you could sleep while he made a meal.

He was so jubilant that his pregnant little mate was cozy in his nest while he took care of you. He had a nice home, a large territory, and now a soft mate to dote on and stuff full of his big prick whenever he needed to. Life was perfect.

THREE MONTHS LATER:

It had been around three months since you had been abducted. And it was hours since you had run away from the monstrosity that had kidnapped you. His name was Kurnugi, you had learned, managing very limited communication with the brute. He had finally let his guard down, finally trusted you since you had never been anything but compliant since you had been with him, and he had finally left you alone to go hunt for a longer period of time.

You did not waste the opportunity, it was clear that your bodyguards had not managed to leave the desert, probably succumbing to exposure. Either that or no one had cared to send a search party to look for you thinking you were a lost cause. So it was up to you to rescue yourself.

Once more your legs burned with a familiar exhaustion. Kurnugi was a skilled hunter that moved fast. Once he returned to his den he would begin tracking you immediately. If you were going to succeed then you had to get as much distance between yourself and that cave as you could possibly manage. It didn’t help that you were pregnant with his many eggs. It surely made travel more difficult.

As you made your way up the river you considered walking in it to hide your scent, but you decided against it. The wind was blowing your scent in the direction that you were fleeing from so it wouldn’t help you at all. The slog through the water would only slow you down. And that was the last thing that you needed right then.

The last thing other than suddenly finding yourself laying with your back against the hot sand and looking up with an absolutely outraged Kurnugi looking down at you with a malicious grin on his face.

How had he snuck up on you so silently?

You had expected to be immediately paralyzed by one of his stings, but the scorpion had other things in mind. He wasn’t just angry. He was hurt. You had tried to leave him the first opportunity you had. Had he not proven himself against lesser males to be a strong mate? Had he not provided food and water and shared his home with you? Had he not given you a nice belly full of eggs as any mate would desire?

The aqrabuamelu clearly had to show you your place. He had been too gentle with you. Not done enough to prove that you were, beyond any whisper of a doubt, his property.

And in that vein of thinking he did not bother with his venom, no, he wanted you to have the full ability of movement and still be just as utterly powerless to do anything to avoid him using you as he saw fit.

He pushed you over onto the ground and flipped you so that you were facing the sand with your ass up. Then, right in the middle of the desert, he ripped off the pants he had made for you out of leather and plant fibers.

Kurnugi crouched so that his cock was level with your cunt, his strong hands gripping your hips so hard that they would undoubtedly be bruised. You cried out and struggled just as pathetically as he had predicted that you would.

“Please! Please NO!!! I’ll behave! I-I’ll never leave again. KURNUGI PLEA-”

Your words became a pained shriek as he interrupted them by ramming his entire dick straight into you. No prep at all. He understood your cries for mercy and carried on anyway.

Each thrust into you was slow, powerful, and deliberate, driving your face into the sand as his nails bit into your flesh.

You were right about one thing. You’d never try to leave him again after this. He was going to fuck it into your brain so you’d have no chance of forgetting.

Tears dripped down your face, wicked away by the thirsty air and ground. Your legs shook and you would have collapsed were it not for the strong hands propping you up. Your abused cunt felt like it was being torn apart.

Kurnugi was once more excited by the scent of your blood and began pulling you back and forth over his prick like you were just a cock sleeve built for his pleasure. All you could do was sob and take it and try not to puke.

With a final slam he came in you hard. No eggs this time, since you were already full of them, just fluid that thankfully soothed your insides, if only a bit.

The anger of the aqrabuamelu was finally quelled and he panted with his throbbing cock still twitching and pumping cum into you. He picked you up and renewed the bite mark he had left on you. He did not have to since it was permanent, but he wanted to so you’d remember you were branded property.

Luckily the pain from the bite had been swallowed up by the disorientation and pain from the rape.

A small comfort.

Kurnugi picked you up effortlessly and cradled you close to him.

You couldn’t quite tell what he had said, but you knew it was meant to be soothing. He rubbed your back and chittered sweetly in that foreign language of his. Evidently happy to have that nasty business out of the way and content in the knowledge that you wouldn’t be trying that again.

7 MONTHS LATER:

You couldn’t wait for the eggs inside you to hatch. Kurnugi had assured you that you would be a great parent and since the eggs absorb the DNA of the parent they are deposited in he was confident that they would be the cutest babies in the entire world.

He was so wonderful to you. He doted on you and helped take you for walks when you were restless. He caught or foraged and then prepared all of your meals. He cuddled you close and kissed your swollen belly and made every effort to cheer you up when you were feeling down.

And you were sweet to him too, you learned how to craft things from the leather and fibers he made so you made him little trinkets that he either wore or decorated the den with. And you always greeted him by kissing him softly whenever he came home.

Things were a lot easier now that you could communicate.

And now that you understood that you could never go anywhere without him and to try to do so would be very hurtful for the both of you.

But why would you ever want to do something like that?

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uchihabucketlist · 6 months

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Mortal (omega) pussy has gods acting unwise (Beta!Loki/Omega!Reader)

“Y’know, things would be easier if you didn’t make things so difficult. The only one suffering here is you, sweetheart.”

Loki’s voice makes you shiver, your chains rattling along to the motion of your body. The green-haired beta sat across from you, his expression relaxed and pensive as he watched you with glittering eyes. Moaning lowly in the back of your throat, you tried to ignore Loki by turning into your other side, though your actions drew a chuckle from him, “So stubborn. What a shame – I would be more than happy to give you what you need if you just ask for it,” ‘Beg for it, more like,’ The bitter thought briefly flickers through your brain before you are once more distracted by the heady scent of the fabric beneath you.

You don’t know how long you’ve been here. There was no clock to tell the time, nor was the cage you’d been locked inside close enough to any wall for you to etch a marking to tell the passage of time. But given the howling winds, the fire in the hearth and the bone-deep chill that every so often blew over your feverish skin, you could at least tell that the season had changed since you’d been kidnapped. It had been nearing the edge of summer when you’d last seen the outside world – or the mortal one, for all you knew.

Ah, what you wouldn’t give to be back home, sequestered alone as your body begins to burn with your heat. You never should have gone out foraging at night – you’d known the risk, had heard the stories about gods passing through the meadows and dipping valleys as they went on their way, and yet, you’d still done it. And now you were captured; held imprisoned in a cage hardly large enough for you to stand, curled up in a nest of blankets, pillows, furs and other fabrics, left to suffer and rot through your heat with an eager, hungry god watching your every move.

You could feel Loki’s eyes on you as if his gaze were physically touching you and tried to ignore it. A shudder rippled down your spine, though you weren’t sure if it was from disgust or need. You didn’t know why he was affecting you so strongly, or why you felt so uneasy simultaneously. To be honest, the first time he’d shown himself after you first woke up, you’d been surprised that the gods were: 1. Real and 2. Adherent to human secondary sexual characteristics. The stories you had grown up with painted the gods as above the ‘base’ and ‘instinctual’ nature of humanity – so there was no reason for them to abide by the ‘universal laws’ they had created. But Here he was, one of the gods, his scent like fresh spring water on the verge of turning into ice.

Neutral. Inoffensive. Beta, your mind had helpfully supplied despite your confusion. Beta, you mourned now, as your heat threatened to ravage your senses and force you into desperation.

It wasn’t necessarily that you would mind if your mate – or the person who helped you through your heat – was a beta. You’d been courted by many different people, alphas, betas and omegas alike, but there was something about the thought of being mated by a god that set your nerves on end. Aside from being kidnapped (“found and brought where you belong” as Loki called it), it was the strange… undertone of the green-haired god’s scent that made you wary to accept any of his help. There was a sense of wrongness to Loki’s smell – like he was wearing a mask, or hiding his true nature, though you couldn’t compare it to anyone else.

When he’d introduced himself, you’d nearly burst into tears, asking if something had happened to you for you to be brought into the realm of the gods. You had thought you’d died – a swift, painless end that you luckily couldn’t remember. Of course, he’d laughed at you then, cooing and comforting you by reassuring you that it would be counterintuitive to his plans for you to have died. In that moment, you’d still held on to the brief glimmer of hope that you could convince the god of trickery to let you go – a foolish hope that seemed to ebb out of you with every moment that passed. Despite how long you had been forced to be his prisoner, he had been the only person you’d seen since you were brought here, and aside from Loki’s visits, you were left to your own devices.

Not that there was much to do, locked up as you are. Sure, Loki had been ‘thoughtful’ enough (needed to be hounded and begged) to bring you books, needles, cloth, yarn and other craft-based items to keep you entertained. But you couldn’t help the loneliness you felt when alone, the sense of abandonment that came every time your captor left. It bothered you that you were beginning to look forward to his presence – at least with Loki here, you had someone to talk to, even if most of the ‘talking’ was you begging to be released and set free. Perhaps you’d become so focused on gaining your freedom that when you first noticed the signs of your heat, you were more confused than you should have been.

“Awww, are you pouting? Poor little omega, it must be so disappointing and lonely being all cooped up in your nest,” Another shudder ran down your spine as Loki cooed at you, the feeling becoming even more intense when you felt his cool finger trail up the exposed curve. Squealing in surprise, you arched away from the god’s touch, which made the green-haired beta snicker at your reaction, “Hmmm, when I’m this close to you, your scent is even stronger than I thought. Hah, I knew picking you out of the rest of the rabble was a good idea – you’re the absolute most perfect omega anyone could ask for,” You didn’t know how to feel about Loki’s gushing over you, though you did turn your head to glare back at him.

Pressing your feverishly hot front against the bars on the other side of the cage from where Loki squatted, you tried not to show how badly your body had reacted to his touch, “I hardly think I’m worthy of such praise when it is unwarranted – I’m not better or worse than any other human life,” Loki clicked his tongue, his lips pouting together in disappointment as you rejected the ‘compliments’ he was trying to ply you with, “Perfection is not something humans can achieve and I refuse to strive for something unattainable. Besides that, the way you speak almost makes it seem that there is something lesser about being human-ngh?!”

Unaware of Loki’s plans, you didn’t notice the cool tendrils of magic that slowly oozed between the bars of your cage until they were slowly winding around your warm body. The unexpected touch made you arch and mewl pathetically, your nerves tingling at the strange, misty trail that was left over your skin, “Yes, yes, yes, we’ve discussed this all before – really, dear, you should learn to accept my compliments when I give them. I’m not someone who would use flattery to try and get what I want,” Loki was a bold-faced liar – you couldn’t count the number of times he’d simpered and cooed over you, bidding to your better nature to try and get you to bend to his whims. Silver-tongued and more clever than he should be, it was only natural that Loki would play dirty tricks to ease his way past your defences instead of using brute force.

This was the first time he’d actively reached out to touch you without needling tacit permission from you. The few times you’d given him leave to do so were the rare moments where you couldn’t help but crave the touch of another person, desiring skin-to-skin contact despite knowing it would leave you vulnerable and exposed. What little clothing you’d been given to wear hardly covered your body, and any wrong movement would give Loki a quick flash of your breasts, ass or pussy. And Loki liked to take advantage of your lack of clothing. A lot. Even now, you could feel the magic trailing from him sliding over your waist, some heading towards your chest, while more travelled slowly down, down, down to skim the edge of the cloth wrapped around your hips.

“A-ah, stop – you swore on your honour you would not try to touch me without my saying so!” You barely managed to squeak, squirming, twisting and turning to try and pull away, even as your body tingled and your instincts whined that you needed more. The beta god laughed lowly, his head resting lightly upon one hand, eyes watching with perverse satisfaction as you writhed. Huffing, you turned to face him, your mouth opening to snap at Loki to knock it off – only for the tendrils to suddenly tighten around your legs and arms, “Ah, Loki!” You whined sharply at the unexpected action, wincing when his magic yanked your limbs apart so you were laid prone in the pile of fabric that covered the bottom of your cage.

The green-haired man cooed sweetly, his lips curling into a self-satisfied grin, “Now, now, there’s no need to whine, sweetheart – I mean, I’m not technically breaking my promise, am I? No part of my body is touching you~,” Loki poked his tongue out, holding up both hands as if wholly innocent of what he was doing to you. You glared, squirming what little you could, even as you were pinned wholly to your nest as Loki dragged his eyes down your form, “Oh my, it seems all this time laying about in your nest has made you all soft and plump, sweetness. Such a shame – though I suppose omegas are more prone to losing muscle mass when they aren’t able to move and work as they usually do… I wonder, though…” Loki trailed off, his eyes remaining on the cloth that draped between your thighs, hiding your pussy from his hungry gaze.

Despite the fearful anxiety gnawing at the pit of your stomach, your instincts couldn’t help but preen and whine at the submission forced upon you. ‘So strong, able to hold us down, make us good for him,’ A voice in the back of your mind simpered, and you shuddered as the magic wrapped around your body slowly trailed over your skin, lower and lower till it dipped between your thighs, “W-wait-!” You gasped, muscles tensing to try and shut your legs, but that just made Loki click his tongue and snap his fingers for your bonds to tighten and force you further open. Cool metal pressed against both outer ankles cradled between the protrusion of your bone and the dip where your heel began, the same cold sensation replicated by your wrists. The pressure was almost uncomfortable, and the temperature difference just made you shiver all the more.

You realised your body was steadily becoming hotter, and more sensitive, as your mind scrambled and vacillated between a desire to fight against Loki’s magic, or submitting to the beta without struggle. You felt a tug at the clothing around your hips and whimpered as cool air brushed over your damp labia. Loki crooned something in a language you couldn’t understand, his gaze trailing over your exposed pussy, admiring your soft, plump flesh. You shivered and tried to twist around, surprised when the magic wrapped around your arms and legs allowed the movement – before immediately regretting your decision when you were forced face down, ass up, “N-Nooooo, no, let me go, I don’t-this is so embarrassing, Loki, please, d-don’t-ah!”

You were trying to plead that the god avert his eyes, but Loki would not do as you requested. The green-haired god leaned in closer, the bars separating you and him fizzling out of existence and allowing him inside. A sharp squeak left your throat when you felt warm breath brush over your labia, your inner walls clenching instinctively as the muscles in your thighs tensed and bunched beneath your skin.

Still, you were held open. Your head was turned to allow you to breathe and glance back over the curve of your spine, but you couldn’t see anything aside from the very top of Loki’s head as his face remained between your spread thighs, “My, my, my, to think you’d present yourself to me so spontaneously, darling,” Loki cooed, so close to touching you, yet making sure he didn’t lay a single finger upon your body. You whimpered when you felt a drip of your arousal trail down the inside of your thigh, mortified that this new position only seemed to make you wetter with excitement.

The green-haired god laughed lowly, and you flinched when you felt his breath blow against your sensitive folds again, “I-I didn’t!” You squeaked, hands clenching into fists, denying that you had any choice in this position, even as you tried to lean closer to Loki’s face instinctively. Your body ached with need, the feverish heat consuming your flesh, blood and nerves urging you to give in, to let Loki take care of you, to accept the beta as your mate like a good omega, “You’re making me t-take this position on-a-ahh~!” A mewl interrupted your denials as magic tightened and writhed around your body, twisting and turning as the tendrils sought out all your most sensitive spots.

“Now, now, there’s no need to lie, omega,” Loki purred his fingers trailing slowly through the air, stirring the wind and directing his magic with ease to make more purple-hued smoke slide around you. A pair of them slid around your breasts, circling the soft rounds in a spiralling pattern before pinching and rubbing around your nipples, making you moan and try to press your chest into the tingling touch. Another set traversed down the length of your spine, coiling around your buttocks and slipping between your spread thighs, rubbing over your tight asshole teasingly before dipping between your dewy labia to press against your clit, “Ooooh, you’re getting so wet for me, aren’t you? Tsk, tsk, poor thing, your heat must be making you desperate for a loving and tender touch.

“I could give you that, y’know?” Loki’s voice was a low, sensuous coo as he spoke, his silver tongue and skilful use of magic threatening to melt away your fears and distaste for the god and his actions, “If you just give in and submit like a good girl, I’ll give you everything you want – everything a pretty omega like you could ever need,” You couldn’t help but whimper when the magic between your thighs seemed to pulse and vibrate as it rolled slow, smooth circles over your clit. Your juices seemed to pour out of you, dripping down your thighs and through the magic that bound you in place to stain the bedding beneath you. The thick scent of your arousal was cloying, infusing your cage and nest further with the heady smell of your heat, and making Loki groan deep in the back of his throat.

Though betas had a lesser sense of smell than alphas or omegas, that didn’t mean they were unable to sense pheromones or enjoy them. a fact you were reminded of as the man behind you inhaled slowly, his eyes rolling back in delight, “Mmmmh, perfect – hehe hehe, simply perfect. I couldn’t have asked or found someone who fit me better. We’ll do great things together, my pretty omega,” Loki sighed, watching hungrily as his magic coursed over your sensitive skin, pinching and rubbing your nipples and clit until you were moaning sweetly for him. He could see the tension in your body, could sense how conflicted you were feeling, how you fought to remain stationary instead of pushing back into the touches driving you wilder and wilder.

The muscles in your thighs twitched with the desire to shut your legs so you could try to alleviate the ache between them. It was getting harder and harder for you to think, to concentrate on holding yourself back, as you experienced pleasure that set your nerves alight with desire. It didn’t help that Loki was so close, his cooing voice a constant reminder of his presence, the barely there brush of air that blew against your needy mons when he spoke or sighed, the warmth of his hands as they rested ever closer to your legs. And yet, he didn’t touch you – he didn’t lay a finger on you while you began to whine and buck, losing your mind to the heat that ravaged your body, demanding you to submit and take what you wanted, what you needed, from the willing and able beta inside our nest.

Loki groaned when your scent became even thicker, stirring a hunger inside the god he usually kept repressed beneath layers and layers of spells and divine magic, “Mmmmh, c’mon sweetheart, I know you need me – you stink of desire, your need dripping down your thighs and making a mess of your nest, tempting me to lean in and snatch a taste of your pretty, juicy little cunt,” The god sighed, his fingers trailing so close to the skin that you shuddered at the sensation, the fine hairs covering your skin standing on end, “All you have to do is ask and I’ll make you feel so good, make you forget about anything aside from how nice it feels to be pleasured by me – to be filled with my cock,” You moaned, ragged and needy, your back arching into a painful looking bow instinctively to try and hike your hips higher.

Presenting. You were presenting without the pressure of Loki’s magic, whining for relief, so desperate with needy you thought you would lose yourself, “Yes, that’s right, such a good girl – you need me, don’t you, sweet omega? You need your beta to take care of you, to fill you up and make you feel good,” Loki praised you easily, a snap of his fingers baking the magic rubbing your clit and pinching your nipples move rougher, meaner, the difference in sensation causing your brain to short circuit, “But you have to use your words and ask properly if you want me to touch you. After all, I’m not allowed to do so without your permission, right? Such a nice beta I am, so sweet, letting you control whether you become mine,” Loki paused and you whimpered when you felt the pad of his forefinger just barely graze your inner thigh as he twirled it, causing the concentration of magic rubbing your clit to thicken and grind between your labia, “Isn’t that just so sweet of me?”

You whined sharply in the back of your throat as the tingling pressure rubbed right over your drooling entrance, a strange spark zapping out of it that made your pussy convulse with pleasure. Your mind twisted, tightened, and any sense of self-control snapped as the sharp sensation happened again, “Hahh, ahhh, Loki, L-Loki, hngh, hahh, p-please,” You whimpered, pathetic and needy, hating yourself but too far gone to deny your body of what it wanted – what it needed from the green haired beta, “Loki, please, I-hngh-I need you, I need-need you to-hahh, touch meeeeeeee, please~!” You finally managed to moan, mouth open and drooling as another bolt of something electrifying ricocheted through your nerves, turning your muscles to jelly and making you arch your hips impossibly higher.

Your pussy drooled and gushed, eager and pliant when Loki cooed your name and finally slipped two fingers inside your aching need. The digits parted his magic, which moved to frame your labia, squeezing the plump and juicy flesh while your insides swallowed his fingers, milking and tight and so perfectly warm and wet, “Good omega, such a good girl for being so honest and telling me what you want – what you need,” The lewd, wet thrusts of his fingers delving in and out of your cunt were nearly overwhelmed by your moaning and mewling for more, your hands clenching the fur beneath you. The magic gave a little leeway as Loki wanted to see how deeply you’d fallen into your heat, feeling nothing but satisfaction when you immediately bucked back into the movements of his hand.

“That’s it, show me where you want me to touch you, how you want me to please you,” Loki purred temptingly, his fingers continuing to thrust in and out of your dripping pussy. He scissored them slowly, pumping the two digits and curling them to rub the pads against your soft, pliant inner walls. You moaned sweetly, pleasure oozing hot and heavy through your blood at being filled – but it wasn’t enough, “Lokiiiiii, Loki, please, I n-need more,” You whined, nails digging into your nest, threatening to tear through the thick fur, even as your face nuzzled into the softness, drenching it further in your scent, “Please, give me more, Loki, m-my beta, please!” Loki couldn’t deny the slight shiver of possessiveness that rushed through him when you mewled and pled so cutely for more, desiring his touch to cool the flames of your heat.

Chuckling lowly, he spread his fingers inside you, opening your twitching pussy to show off the throbbing pink folds before he plunged a third digit inside you, “Of course darling, you’re begging so sweetly – how could I ever deny you what you need, hmmm? That would be too cruel, what with how desperately your pussy keeps squeezing my fingers,” You drooled when Loki thrust his fingers deeper, rubbing them more insistently against your walls while scissoring them apart to work you open. A loud moan wracked your throat when the green-haired god leaned in and peppered warm, gentle kisses over the slickened skin of your labia, your vulva and clit before rubbing just the tip of his tongue over the throbbing bundle of nerves.

“Lokiiiiiiii, ah, Loki, Loki, hahh, ah, ah, need, mmh~! Need more, please, my beta, pleaaaase!” You mewled and tried to press back into his face, but Loki pulled away easily with a small hum, relishing the taste of your juices on his tongue. The thrusts of his fingers started sounding even wetter, filthier, as thick droplets of slick dripped from between your labia onto his hand and the nest beneath you. You writhed and bucked, held in place by Loki’s magic, but given the freedom to move along with the pace of his fingers, drooling and moaning all the while. Your heart thrummed in the hollow of your throat while you warbled, pleading with Loki for more stimulation. A part of you was surprised you were reacting so fervently when you’ve been nothing but afraid and resentful to the beta god since he’d brought you to his home, “Please, pleasepleaseplease, I need you, need you to fuck me, beta, please, hurts, feel so empty, need more ‘n your fingers, Loki, please!”

He cooed in response to your begging, leaning in closer to lave his tongue slowly around his thrusting fingers, “Of course, you do, shhh, I know how much you need my cock inside you, sweetling,” Loki’s voice was deep with desire, his fingers never ceasing their thrusts as he worked you open, thoroughly, methodically, ensuring there would be no reason to stop once he was inside you. You moaned as his scent became slightly stronger as your senses sharpened, eager to be marked and drenched under the neutral yet chilly smell, “But you need to be a little more patient, my darling. I’ll fill you up soon, make you mine and mine alone,” Loki stuffed a fourth finger inside your drooling cunt, the stretch causing a slight sting that caused you to moan his name and rut back into the sharp sensation.

You wanted, you needed, you craved to feel the god pressed against you, to feel his cock filling your pussy and fucking you mindless. There was still a slight edge of resistance in the back of your mind, but it was drowned out by the sheer bliss of being beneath the beta. You mewled and whined, grinding back on his fingers with every wet thrust, every slick roll of his magic over your clit, every pinch around your nipples. Begging, pleading, cajoling, you felt like you were losing your mind, nearly sobbing when Loki pulled his fingers out of your clenching depths to mount you, “Yes, yes, yes, yes, please, give it, give it to me, Loki, my beta, pleasepleasepleaseplease-!” Your words spilt from your lips in a gush of near nonsense, Loki’s hands on your hips pulling you close while he teasingly rubbed the tip of his cock between your juicy labia.

“Shhh, shhh, I know, I know, hold still for me, such a good omega, such a sweet little thing now that you’re under the effects of your heat,” Loki praised, huffing warm breaths against the nape of your neck, his weight bearing down on your back, the leather of his clothes quickly warming to meet your overheated temperature. You moaned when he rolled his hips, eyes fluttering shut in ecstasy as the full length of his cock slid to the hilt inside you with ease. Your inner muscles convulsed and tightened around the intrusion, fluttering, milking, taking pleasure from being filled so intimately. Loki chuffed above you, his chest expanding as a low growl left his throat.

Though you couldn’t see it, Loki had clenched his teeth to hold back from immediately beginning to rut his cock inside you. the tight, warm, welcoming wet squeeze of your cunt felt heavenly to the green-haired god, and he had to hold himself back from giving in to his base instincts, “Fuck, so tight, so- hahh- perfect-!” Loki swallowed and groaned thickly, mind going blank as he rested his forehead against the back of yours, inhaling your thick scent and losing himself in the sensations for a moment. That niggling tingle that had been bothering him for months – ever since he’d first laid eyes on you that fateful day – eased as satisfaction and pure, unfiltered bliss coursed through his blood. Loki had never felt so connected, so drawn to anything – mortal, animal or god alike – than he felt at this moment.

He felt as if the world had snapped into its proper position, that sense of loneliness that was inherent in those who watched aeons pass easing from the companionship. His gums itched with the urge to bite down and claim you, to make you his forever, but Loki held back, “So good for me, so perfect, it’s like your cunt was made for me, my pretty omega,” Loki growled, pulling his hips back until his cock slid halfway out of your drooling insides before slamming back inside you with a mean growl. You yowled and whined, arching back into his thrusts, begging with slurred pleas for more, more, more, while Loki pulled back and slammed inside again, again, and again. The motions were rough and deep, arrhythmically thrusting and rutting inside you. Loki felt almost animalistic, a sensation he wasn’t sure if he liked, but pushed to the back of his mind as all his body and instincts were screaming at him to take, take, take!

You moaned, drooling into the fabric beneath your face at the pleasure that coursed through your body. Loki’s magic had completely disappeared the moment he’d slid inside your pussy, the god unable to concentrate when his cock was buried deep inside you. you met his thrusts with wild little bucks of your hips, eager and needy, trying to match his pace to get Loki’s cock deeper inside you, “Good, so good, yes, yes, yes, more, gimme more, feels so good, Lokiiiiiii, please!” You whimpered, arching your head back to try and look at the man draped over your back, only to go still and let your head fall to your nest when the beta god growled and nipped the nape of your neck harshly. Despite the roughness, you couldn’t help but want more, your pussy clenching and gushing around Loki’s cock; the soaked folds encouraged him to roll his hips harder and faster against your ass, his balls buffing your clit while the head of his cock bullied your insides.

Your moans were like music to Loki’s ears, the green-haired man eagerly wanting more. He couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, so overwhelmed by the pleasure that skittered through his body that any glib thought or comment couldn’t register past the fog that muddled his mind. Your scent was so thick he could almost taste it, mouth open to drag in thick lungfuls of your pheromones while his lips, teeth and tongue worked to mark your neck and shoulders with sharp, bruising marks. Like dogs, the two of you whined, moaned, and fucked roughly, Loki keeping you pinned beneath his weight, and you bucking into his thrusts eagerly to meet him. Occasionally, some of your moaning and slurred speech formed pleas for Loki t go harder, to fuck you deeper, to breed you and fill you, even if your more sane mind would not have cried for such things. These moments would make the god fuck you harder, would make him growl and rut his cock deeper, the head grazing dangerously close to the entrance of your womb.

Your clit kept getting slapped by his heavy balls, the curved underside of his dick grinding blissfully over your g-spot with every thrust. Shallow or deep, it didn’t matter how Loki fucked you, as everything pleased you in this heightened state of arousal. You were getting closer to your end, and Loki could sense it, the god doubling his efforts with grunts and growls that became meaner, rougher – less beta-like, your addled mind supplied, as your nose twitched and began to scent something deeper and muskier in Loki’s scent. You didn’t have the mental capacity to wonder what was going on, not when Loki’s teeth bit and nipped at the nape of your neck, forcing you to turn your head, to crane it away from your neck so he could gain access to your inflamed, plump mating gland.

The head of his body could be felt through the leather and cloth of his clothing, and his cock felt like it was becoming thicker, but you pushed the strangeness to the back of your mind, “Yesss, good, good omega, perfect, so perfect, hahaha, finally, hahh, finally mine!” Loki growled, addled by the bliss of fucking you through the first wave of your heat and ecstatic that his plans were coming to fruition. He could feel the burn, the shift in his body as it adjusted and became more attuned with yours, fueling his instincts to change to suit what you needed – or what he instinctively thought you needed. Bucking his hips harder, fucking his cock deeper, his hands gripped your hips with bruising tightness as Loki tried to push you to the edge of bliss, “Come for me, want to feel my pretty omega cum for me, such a good girl, be good for me and let me make you mine.”

The possessive edge to Loki’s demand and the thickening of his cock into a sort of knot made your brain and body short-circuit and convulse with pure pleasure. The moment your pussy tightened like a vice and milked his adjusted cock, Loki snarled and bit into the meat of your mating gland, slamming his cock deep inside you to lock his ‘knot’ in place. You whined reedily, confused, yet satiated, the god above you binding your body to his physically with his teeth as they dug deep enough to draw blood. Your cunt milked and gushed around Loki’s cock, the vice-like pressure of your insides pulling him over the edge, as thick, hot ropes of cum filled your insides.

The fluid was stuffed and packed against the entrance of your womb, coating the fertile entrance in Loki’s spend as he ground and rolled his hips in slow, mind-numbingly pleasurable circles against your ass. You moaned, eyes rolling to the back of your head, your clit thrumming with the rapid pace of your heart while your insides milked and coaxed more of the god’s seed to fill you up.

Loki eventually pulled his mouth away from the bloody, messy mating mark in the crook where your neck and shoulder met, a rumbling groan the only noise he made. His hazy gaze stared down at you, irises practically glowing with possessive giddiness before he leaned in to kiss you. You whimpered when he forced your body to arch and twist even more uncomfortably, but yielded and allowed the – beta? Alpha? Beta? He smelled like both and neither – god to kiss you as he pleased.

Loki’s hands slid away from your hips to rest on your plump belly, while his weight above you eventually made your legs give out so you lay in your nest underneath him. He broke the kiss with a sigh, murmuring words you couldn’t comprehend while he pressed kisses to your bruised skin and nuzzled his face over your neck and shoulders. Exhausted, you closed your eyes to doze while Loki continued to pet and soothe your tired body, coating you in his strange new scent.

You would awaken later, accustomed to the changes the god had undergone, hungry, thirsty, and needy for your new mate’s attention, affection and cock to fill your aching pussy once more.

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uchihabucketlist · 6 months

Text

Stepdad!König & dbf!Horangi masterlist

Pairing: Stepdad!König & dbf!Horangi x fem!reader

Cw: STEPCEST, DUB-CON/NON-CON, smut, rough sex, creampie, cheating, age gap/difference, size difference, creampie, fingering, spanking, degrading, cunnilingus, double penetration, tell me if I missed any.

Parts:

Thought

Secret

Double date

Delusion

Unconscious

2K notes · View notes

uchihabucketlist · 7 months

Note

Partner matching services...

Imagine getting imbibitor lunae... Constantly mating and him just slowly thrusting inside your warm and wet hole to not overstimulate you with his two thick and long cocks but you keep pushing him away😔

So he decides to roughly pound you, the sight of you scream so loudly while your cunny clenching harder around him is just so 😍 his tail unconsciously wrapping around your waist and making you take him to the base... (Would he have a knot? 👀)

(Can I be 💦anon?)

😚yes you can be 💦anon! aww😳 He wants to mate with you no matter what… thanks for sharing💕

CW: yandere, non-con, forced breeding, knotting, (mentioned) pregnancy

Imbibitor Lunae got a report from a matching services company, the data shows that you are 93% suitable for giving birth to dragon cubs, and you are also his most suitable partner. He explains to you how rare this number is and how important you are to Vidyadhara, but you disagree. You are looking for a suitable lover, not to be bred and pregnant with dragon cubs.

Dan Feng was like: why not have both? You will get breeding. You will have a lover.

He just needs to show you this blueprint for the future, and what better way than to start mating you?

Only now do you realize how insignificant your own power is in front of dragons. The dragon blows into your ear. That strange, comfortable kiss brought you a shudder, on your lips, neck, and chest, and the tongue teased your areola, which glowed with water. After a long mating preparation, two thick dragon dicks slowly revealed, straightened up, pre-cum dripping from the tip between your thighs.

"Stop-stop!! Help! Let me go!"

Terrified, you slap his hand and try to push his chest away with all your strength, but your lower body twitches humiliatingly, as if expecting to be bred. Imbibitor Lunae soothes you in a low voice, while opening your penetrated place, patiently thrusting into the deepest, stretching those folds and walls, until the balls lightly slap on your shiny folds.

Dan Feng knows the priority now is to train you to take his two cocks. He holds back, and slowly, carefully begins to thrust into the tight, wet hole amidst your unwilling tears and moans.

After a few rounds, you irritate him by pushing him all the time. He decides to give you a little rough treatment and instead the dragon cock is pounding mercilessly in the heat, in and out, resulting in a deep and loud water sound. It doesn't take long for you to change - screaming, wrapping your arms around him because it's the only thing you can lean on.

And the knotting!! Yes!! This is perfect, just think about it. He kisses your cheek lightly, and the dragon's cock swells even more, knotting as the sticky and fertile load irrigates inside of you. You have to stay with him in this mating position for at least ten minutes, and you can't leave, waiting for the start of the next round. It was quite an embarrassing and hopeless experience.

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uchihabucketlist · 7 months

Note

May I request a scenario where Yandere Levi takes a liking to a new cadet. She is sweet, innocent, and just so cute. He plays favourites with her, gives her special treatment, and makes her 'help' him with paperwork, etc. (grooming her, basically.) Reader is oblivious to his intentions. She is just happy that such an important person, and her role model, is even sparing her a glance. One day, they are in his office and Levi is feeling particularly bold. He is all touchy-touchy with her. She is feeling uncomfortable but tries to brush it off. Then he tries to kiss her and she freaks out. She immediately pushes him away and rejects his advances. Levi is pissed. He thinks she is being ungrateful. He was done playing patient and nice with her and decides to take her right there, even when she cries and begs him to stop. Reader is left feeling utterly devasted and betrayed.

A Good Cadet Follows Orders

Tag List: @issamomma @repostingmyfavs

Warnings: Yandere themes, NSFW, rape, manipulation, grooming, slapping, virginity loss

Checkout my Master List here.

———

“With me, cadet,” is all Captain Levi Ackerman throws over his shoulder as he walks towards the his office building.

“Yes, Sir!” you exclaim, bringing your training to a halt as you run after him. You don’t feel bad in the slightest for having to cut things short. The captain needs something from you, and you think about this with a smile on your face as you walk behind him, just as he has taught you.

Arriving at his office, you stand with your hands behind your back, folded delicately at the base of your spine.

Levi sits down at his desk and begins shuffling through a couple of papers. “Clean yourself up and then sit down with me. I want you to help me with some paper work.”

“Yes, Captain.”

You walk over to the mirror and see that there are traces of dirt on your cheek. Your hair is untidy as well. This simply won’t do. How could you have let yourself get this filthy during your training? And to be in the presence of such a refined captain? You can barely tolerate the thought.

You know better than to speak out of turn, but maybe if you apologize, it might ease things between the two of you. Although, there isn’t any tension in the air, you still feel disgusted with yourself. In a way, you feel like you have let him down just for walking behind him covered in filth.

You wash your face with the pot of water and basin in his office. It feels refreshing to relieve yourself of such dirt. Taking your hair out of the low pony tail that has several locks falling out of place, you redo your hair in a tight braid that Levi would approve of.

Feeling better about your appearance, you present yourself to your captain. Anxiety riddles you as he inspects your form.

“Very good, Y/N. Sit down now. You can work on these,” he explains as he hands you several forms, all of which have been given to him by Erwin.

“Thank you, Sir,” and you mean it. You are so grateful that he thinks a low tier cadet like you could help him in any way, shape, or form. It means a lot to you.

Twenty minutes in, he looks over at you and demands that you stop. “What did I tell you about rushing your penmanship?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Captain. I didn’t even realize…”

What could you say to make this better?

“It’s okay. I’m not mad. Keep in mind that this is going to the higher ups.”

“Yes, Captain, I’ll do better.”

Out of nowhere, he tells you, “I like your hair braided better than in that low style you usually wear.”

Your mouth drops a little, and you nod as you bite on your lower lip. “Thank you, Sir. I can wear it more often like this.”

His eyes lower back to the forms on the surface of his desk. “Only if it’s something you’d like to do.”

“It is. I mean, I like it like this too, and it isn’t complex. It would be just as easy for me to put my hair in a braid. It probably wouldn’t get loose either.”

“Well then, I look forward to seeing you train hard with your hair out of your face.”

Smiling, you can’t think of anything to say as you’re overcome with giddiness. “Yes, Sir,” is all that tumbles from your mouth.

———

“Fuck, Captain Ackerman is just such a hard ass. If I had the choice between training with him and being eaten by a Titan, I’m not sure which one I would pick,” you hear some lowlife cadet complain in the dining hall.

“Would you shut the fuck up?” you can’t help but interject in your teammate’s conversation.

“Oh, look, it’s the teacher’s pet kissing his ass when he’s not even here.”

“I…I am not kissing his ass. You’re just being an ungrateful jerk.”

He makes a kissy face at you with his eyes scrunched closed, and you punch him square in the jaw. The asshole rocks back on the bench, falling onto the floor with a groan.

“With me, cadet,” you hear the deep and familiar voice behind you, and you instantly go cold with fear.

Your captain just saw you commit an act of violence towards a teammate. What will he think of you now? Thoughts like this fill your head as you walk behind him, hands folded at the base of your spine, hair still pulled back in a tight braid.

You reach his office for the second time that day, and he turns to you with crossed arms.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself, cadet?”

Dropping your eyes to the floor out of respect, you bite your wobbling lip. Shaking your head, you try to control yourself.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

“I’m sorry for the disrespect I displayed tonight with my actions towards you and my teammate. I will apologize to them as well. I was angry, but that’s no excuse. I will work to do better and to be better.”

Levi seems to be considering all of this. “Why were you angry?” he inquires.

“Oh, um, well…”

“What have I told you about mumbling?”

“…Not to.”

“Go on and explain yourself clearly.”

“Yes, Captain. I was angry because he was saying things about you that I didn’t like.”

A bit of pride puffs up in Levi’s chest, but he forces himself not to let the smile he’s feeling show.

“Hmmm, do you think what you did deserves a punishment?”

Punishment…you can’t fathom it. Will he hit you, make you do extra training, clean something a million times?

“Only if you think I do, Sir.”

You hear him walk over to his desk, but you don’t see what he’s doing as you keep your eyes glued to the floor. All too soon, he’s standing in front of you holding…is that a tea cup?

He hands the tea to you and guides you over to his desk. He pushes his plate of food towards you and gestures for you to eat.

Is this how he plans to discipline you?

“Captain-”

You want to ask what is happening, but he cuts your sentence off.

“Eat, cadet. No talking.”

Not sure if you should say “yes, Sir”, you stay quiet and begin your meal. It’s warm, filling, and the tea is comforting. It somehow manages to soothe your sore muscles. When finished with your supper and tea, you look at Levi, waiting for him to give you an order.

“You look like you have something to say. What is it?”

“I just wanted to thank you for this, all of this.” You hope he can understand your meaning without you specifically explaining every single thing that you’re thankful for.

To your chagrin, he nods in return. “You’re very welcome.”

“Do you need me to clean up the dishes?”

“No, that’s alright. Why don’t you go and get some rest? Be back in my office after training.”

“Yes, Sir. Have a goodnight.” You smile as you leave and head to your quarters. The quirk of your lips never leaves until you fall into a deep sleep.

———

Captain Ackerman is making his presence behind you very clear as you sit at his desk and work on more forms. He seems to be…in some kind of mood, one you’re not quite familiar with.

He touches your braid again. At first, you thought he was inspecting it, looking for anything out of place. Sometimes, he makes you redo your hair if he finds a few loose strands.

However, this is different. He seems to be feeling your hair rather than scrutinizing your braided locks. He places his hands on your shoulders and leans into your ear.

“Very nice penmanship, cadet. Much better than yesterday.”

Nervously, you force yourself to keep still as you clear your throat. “Yes, Captain, thank you. I remembered not to rush.”

“I’m glad the lesson stuck. You’re such a good learner, a good cadet. It seems like I’ve trained you very well.”

“Yes, Sir, I’ve been trained by the best.”

Your feelings are mixed with confidence from his praise and anxiety from his touches. What is happening?

Then, something you never thought would happen happens. You feel lips on your neck, and you jump out of your chair. Turning to look at him with confusion and disbelief, you see one emotion clearly expressed by him: rage.

“Sir, why did you do that?” you ask with a high pitch in your tone as your hand clutches the spot he just kissed.

“Isn’t it obvious, L/N? Please, tell me you’re not that much of an idiot.”

His advances are fast, his feet stopping just in front of yours. You have no time to react as you try to block him from grabbing you.

He laughs as you try to use his own moves against him. He trips you, and you lose your balance, thus losing your ability to parry his attacks. From fear of falling, you stick your hands out in front of you.

Levi takes this moment to grab you like he originally planned to. He grips both of your arms and positions you on the desk so that you’re looking up at the ceiling.

You cry out as his hands begin ripping apart your uniform. The sturdy cloth that has withstood training time and time again is now being torn apart by your savage captain. He’s like a feral animal, and you’re his prey. Fear overcomes you, and you desperately try to preserve your modesty by clutching your bare crotch.

“Please, stop! I don’t want this! You can’t do this, Captain!”

“I think you’ll find I can do anything I please, you shitty brat.”

As you try to pick yourself up, he slams you down on your back again, pinning your shoulders to the surface of his desk. Paperwork be damned.

Standing between your legs, he works his way past the apex of your slit before thrusting himself inside of you. It’s jarring, even more shocking than when he kissed you, and you feel a sharp thrumming of pain down there. It’s unlike any other pain you’ve felt before. It burns, stings like a thousand wasps.

You don’t remember when you started sobbing, but your tears are all you can focus on now as the tears roll sideways and drip into your ears.

Betrayed. Utterly disgusted with betrayal is how you feel. Your captain whom you so adored is now invading you in a way that you wanted to save for someone special. Your captain was supposed to be your mentor, your guiding light; he wasn’t supposed to be some depraved monster assaulting you.

Did he ever want anything more from you than what’s between your legs to begin with? All of those months you worked with him in his office, all of the special things he’d do for you, was it all just for this moment?

A heart broken wail rips from the depths of your lungs as you look into his stone colored eyes. A sharp slap connects with your cheek, and you feel dizzy. For a singular second, you’re no longer aware of him between your legs until an uncomfortable shape pokes your cervix.

“Be a good girl now and stop crying,” he warns you as he continues to thrust in and out.

You try to take a deep breath, but the tears never cease. You feel something warm and sticky gather between your legs as he pulls away from you.

“We have a lot of training to do. I don’t want you crying like a bitch every time I fuck you.”

You don’t listen to him. You can hear him talking, but you don’t understand his words.

“I t-trusted y-y-you! D-defended y-you!” is all you can scream at him.

Levi adjusts his clothes. He regards you lazily with a glance from the side, and you feel a new wave of sobs wash over your exhausted body.

“Go to the mirror and clean up, cadet. Redo your braid as well. I see a couple of hairs got loose.”

What can you do? What else is there to do?

“…Yes, Sir.”

You sniffle with a note of somberness as you obey. What was it that the captain always used to say? “A good cadet follows orders.”

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uchihabucketlist · 7 months

Note

Can I request a yandere Levi who got into an arranged marriage with reader.

Context: It was for some political benefit as he was a military Captain and she was from a noble family. He was opposed to it at first because he thought since she is a noble she would be very bratty, arrogant and narcissistic, but when he met her he was surprised to see that she was really shy, sweet and soft spoken. It ignited something dark within him.

Main scenario (NSFW): They get married. It's their wedding night and they're in his room when he non-cons her.

The Captain and the Duchess

Yandere Levi x Fem!Reader

Tag List: @issamomma

Warnings: Yandere themes, NSFW, rape, hair pulling, crying kink, violent threats, spousal abuse, virginity loss, arranged marriage

Checkout my Master List here.

—————————————————————————

Him being humanity’s best soldier and a high ranking captain, Levi Ackerman is now standing before you, a duchess, as you exchange vows.

You don’t know him. You never met him until this very moment. All your handmaids could relay was vague information about him.

“He’s a captain. His name is Levi Ackerman.”

You wanted to know more than just general things about the man. You wanted to know what he looked like, sounded like. The mystery ate at your stomach until this very moment.

Now, looking into his stone gray eyes, you feel intimidated as you recite your vows to him. Timidly, you find yourself stumbling through the words, a promise for the rest of your life together.

“I do” the words come out of your mouth barely above a whisper.

Looking down, you miss the quirking of his eyebrow.

“You may now kiss the bride,” the priest tells your husband.

Since you can’t bring yourself to lift your jaw up to look at him, he does the task for you. He tilts your chin up gently and narrows his eyes at you. His gaze is almost predatory, animalistic. With the seal of a kiss, a new chapter of your life begins.

———

You find that he isn’t a man of many words at first. The two of you sit in the bedroom of his house. You have a seat on the bed while he sits down on a settee with a teacup in hand.

“Levi?”

He gives you a lingering gaze as he finishes sipping the calming tea. “That’s the first thing I’ve heard you say since our vows. What is it?”

Looking down, you fiddle with your hands in your lap. “I don’t really know you. Nobody would tell me anything about you.”

He thinks this is why you must be so reserved and hesitant to speak. It intrigues him. It’s as if you’re a puzzle yet to be solved.

“What would you like to know?” He questions you as he crosses one leg over his knee.

“Did you have any say in our marriage?”

He gives you a curt nod. “I could have rejected you. Erwin said it would be better to keep the peace between our countries if I put my own wants aside. It’s funny. Your portrait made you look like some haughty brat. I thought I wouldn’t be able to stand you. Even your name makes you sound arrogant. Y/N L/N.”

Warmth muddles your chest as you glare at the floor. Growing a tad bit hot, you cross your arms, wishing you had something to wear right now other than your ornate wedding dress.

“However, I can’t help but be attracted to what I’m seeing.” His eyes move to the heart of your dress’s corset before resting on your lovely face. “You’re not at all what I thought you’d be.”

Risking a look at him, your eyes find his, and you manage to keep eye contact this time. “And what’s that?”

“You’re reserved. You sound so meek. You can barely look at me even though we shared a kiss just hours ago.”

Standing up and setting his cup down, he walks over to you. “You’re not at all the bitch I thought I’d have to spend the rest of my life with.”

The captain places his hands on your waist and stands in between your legs.

“Look at you. You still can’t hold eye contact with me.”

He brushes your lips, intending on kissing you. However, you turn your head. With him in your personal space, everything feels like it’s moving too fast. You never met this man in the months that the wedding was being planned. All of a sudden, you’re thrown into a white dress and forced to walk down the isle with your father. You don’t know Levi Ackerman at all, and you feel as though oxygen is limited.

Placing your hands on his chest, you try to create some space. “I would really like to talk with you for a bit longer.”

You hate upsetting people, but you feel as though something isn’t right.

In an instant, his hand snakes up the back of your neck, clutching your H/C locks at the nape. Your head snaps in the direction he pulls you in, and he begins kissing your neck passionately.

“L-Levi, please! This isn’t decent!” It’s the first time you have yelled in a long while, but you need him to listen to you. “I don’t think I’m ready for this. Please?”

“I’ve been faithful. I haven’t slept with anyone in months. Do you know what that does to someone who has a stressful job like me?” His grip on your hair becomes more secure. “You’re more than I thought you’d be, and now that you’re mine, you’re going to be a good little wife and take every inch of your husband’s dick.”

Your howls echo through the rooms, pleads and demands falling on deaf ears. He wrestles you onto your stomach, and though you put up quite the fight, his grappling skills outweigh yours. Panting, he rucks the hem of your skirts up to your waist. Levi rips your shear white tights in a beastly manner.

You hear him spit on something before his warm and wet hand rubs your terrified cunt. This can’t be happening. It’s your wedding night, but it feels like a fever induced nightmare.

Levi wastes no time in violating you.

“This virgin pussy was worth the wait,” he moans as he forces himself inside of you.

It’s too much. All of it is too much. Your screams only become louder. Tired of hearing you, he clutches the back of your messy locks and shoves your face into the duvet.

Your makeup smears all over the white covers, but that is the farthest thing from your mind at the moment. With one hand gripping your mane and the other on your lower back, you’re forced into an arched position, giving him the ability to feel your tight walls even better.

“Keep crying like that. You’re only making me harder.”

He propels himself deeper inside of you, enjoying his property.

The amount of pain you’re suffering doesn’t even click in his mind. There is a vast difference between his pleasure and your misery, and he’s unaware that this is actually hurting you.

He tells himself you’re only acting this way because you’re too shy, but he’ll help you overcome it. You will have to learn how to pleasure him in the future so that he doesn’t always have to take you from the back, not that he minds.

“Stop!” you release a bloodcurdling scream into the mattress, but he pays you no attention.

He simply presses your head further into the comforter, making sure to muffle your cries as much as he can.

———

When he unhands your hair, you find yourself gasping for air as you pick your head up. Your sex, leaking with Levi’s hot seed, aches tremendously. Sticking your hand down there out of morbid curiosity, you withdraw your hand from your pink slit and look at the discolored sperm as it mixes with your virginal blood.

Lowering your trembling hand, you look at your husband, your rapist, with a quivering lip.

“You…”

As he unbuttons his cufflinks, he casts a glance at you.

His smirk is so punchable.

“Yes, Darling?”

You rise from the bed and rush at him, fists clenched in righteous fury. You prepare to strike him.

Ultimately, you find yourself held in his strong embrace with your back to his chest. You attempt to hit his nose with the back of your skull, but all he has to do is shift his head only slightly to avoid contact.

He lets you wail and curse until rage no longer fills your lungs. You dangle in his arms, and he’s enough of a gentleman to put you down on the bed instead of dropping you on the floor like he wants to.

Grabbing your jaw, he forces your tired eyes to look at him.

“If you ever try to attack me again, I will beat you within an inch of your life, wait for you to heal, and then do it all over again. Do you understand me, Wife?”

Sniffling, you wipe the snot and tears from your face. “Yes, I understand.”

“Yes, I understand, Husband,” he corrects you.

It’s the last thing you want to call him, but out of fear, you take his correction. “I understand…Husband.”

The captain lets go of your chin and caresses your cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Good. Your life is only as hard as you make it. If you obey me, it won’t be that difficult.”

He removes your dress as you lie on the bed, trepidation coursing through your veins as a vile feeling settles into your stomach.

“One more round should satisfy me, then we can get some sleep.”

With tears rolling from the corners of your eyes, all you can say is, “Yes, Husband.”

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uchihabucketlist · 7 months

Text

You know the rules.. if you're account is empty like these, consider blocked.

Wake up it's time to get blocked and reported

78K notes · View notes

uchihabucketlist · 8 months

Text

Breeding König

Warnings: 18+, Riding, Breeding Kink, Consensual Forced Breeding (male receiving), Consensual Dub Con/Non Con, Stomach Bulging/Swelling, Unprotected Sex, Spitting, AFAB Reader, Dirty Talk, Brief Slut Shaming, Sub König, Top Reader, etc.

"'M gonna suck you dry, baby," your breath hitched as you rolled your hips against König's, his cock bulging inside you. He could only whine, moaning when you hit a sensitive spot, only for you to abuse it, driving him to the verge of tears. Driving him to an end he'd come to fear.

"And you know what else?" You leaned down and grasped König’s thick neck in your hands, squeezing just the right spot to make his back arch and his eyes squeeze shut. He was completely physically incapable of stopping you, his hands bound together against the bedpost with rope, his voice unusable. You smiled, rocking against him, feeling him twitch inside you.

He was close. And so were you.

König's eye fluttered open, watching you. He wanted to know your secret. Your obscurity.

You bent down, bringing your mouth close to his ear. Your breath scorched the shell, making him shiver, goosebumps rippling across his chest. His laboured breathing was amplified as you drew closer.

"I'm gonna make you a daddy."

His eyes snapped open. He shook his head, growing harsher as your statement sank in, muffled noises barely sneaking past the duct tape you'd slapped across his lips. He began thrashing, trying to disconnect his hips from yours, trying to pull out.

But you didn't let him.

Retracting, you looked down at him, gripping the covers beneath him and creating makeshift reigns with which you kept yourself stable, kept König inside you. All the while, the panic in his brow only deepened.

"It's too late to resist, köni," you sang, giving him false hope as you lifted yourself up off his cock before slamming back down onto it, making him moan in a way that betrayed his actions - his resistance. He stared at you beneath ginger, half-lidded eyes, mere cracks of their whole circumference. And you smiled.

You slammed down on him again, hands settling on his chest. Pushing him down. Keeping him docile. "I know you want this, you whore."

König shook his head, vehement in his denial, but you disregarded it. It was of little importance to you. You revisited your killing pace, lifting and dropping yourself on his dick with haste. Electricity pooled in your core, waiting to break at any second.

"You're gonna father my children whether you like it or not--" you gasped as you hit your sweet spot. König only seemed to grow more panicked, eyes widening, brow creasing. Resistance futile.

"My pretty little house husband, all mine. I'll harvest you - breed you - as much as I like--" you took his jaw in your hand and forced him to look at you. You spat on him, making him flinch. "And there's nothing you can do about it."

König moaned, loud and long, his back arching into your hips, plugging you with his cock. You groaned, a sliver of a moan slipping from you, as you threw your head back, reaching your climax. König’s load filled you - all of you - to the point that you were sure your stomach would swell.

As your orgasm rolled through you, König shifted through the haze, still trying to retreat from you - trying to retreat from a future you forced onto him.

You would have applauded him for breaking free of the throws of his orgasm had you not been a disciplinarian.

"Oh no you don't," you declared, gaze coming to settle on Konig's frozen, petrified features. He ceased under your stare like a deer caught in headlights, or prey before its predator. You bit your lip as you took his throat in your hands again.

"We're not done here until I'm stuffed so full of your cum that I look pregnant." You squeezed. "Isn't that what you want, hmm? To make you mine? To bear your children?"

You already knew the answer whether König accepted it or not. He could only look up at you, eyes glassy with tears, mourning the fate you'd resigned him to - the future you'd stolen from him. You leaned down and licked a stray tear off his cheek. Rising, you cocked your head.

"Now then," you said, rubbing not-so-soothing circles into König’s chest, "shall we go again?"

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously :-)

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uchihabucketlist · 8 months

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I LOVE THE STUCK IN THE WALL WITH MEGUMI!!!!

Omg i can just imagine you are the new student first year and Megumi had admired you ever since that. Then he is lucky enough to go on a same mission with you one day but you end up splitting up because there is suddenly a new curse appeared out of nowhere. He exorcist the curse, after that Megumi try to find you only to discover your ass is thinking out.

You had struggle earlier try to get out of the damn hole causing your skirt to lift up and expose your pretty pink panties to your classmate which make his cock twitch in his pants. You begged him to pull you out which he did try to but mostly he just try to calm his obvious boner by rubbing it against your clothed pussy which you notice and ask him what is he doing. Megumi finally snapped and rip off the skirt and your panties to fuck your soft little tight wet pussy for hours long and possible break you mind as well because the amount of time he had make you cum and squirt around his cock. Megumi also cum so much inside of you that your tummy bulge a little from the amount of thick hot white sticky cum he had stuff inside your little hole.

He definitely sure he might also have impregnated you at that time but thats fine because you already his anyway🤭

i need dark content about megumi , thank you for yummy food um🥺

Love this thirst so much and want to write it (and then took two days to write it 😭) - please let me get stuck on the wall and get fucked by Megumi😫😩😩💦

For obvious reasons, the two of you are here in college and are adults.

TW: non-con, stuck on the wall, mind break, forced breeding, yandere

"Damn...! Let me out! Is anyone here?...Megumi-kun!"

It has been more than ten minutes. That curse lured you through here and ran away, leaving you in this damn hole. You beat the heavy concrete wall with your hands, trying to inject cursed energy, but unfortunately, you haven't learned how to use it like Okkotsu. No matter how hard you slap, there is no response at all.

There will be no one else in the abandoned school. Your only hope is Megumi, but the phone has accidentally dropped out of your reach. The screen in front of you is flickering with lights and ringing, indicating that it's an incoming call from "Fushiguro".

Perhaps following the source of the ringtone. After a rush of footsteps, he appeared. You have a smile on your face like you have caught a lifebuoy in the ocean.

Megumi grabbed the door frame, panting slightly. After seeing your situation, he was stunned for a moment, "...What's going on?"

"...I accidentally got stuck here, please- please get me out."

Megumi nodded and walked around behind you. You don't look away, but the gray wall hides Megumi's face, and the sound of hitting the wall stops behind you a few times. You heard a slight crack in the wall, but he stopped trying, and there was an uneasy silence.

"...No way. How did you get yourself stuck here?" Megumi's irritable accusation made your face burn, you are indeed clumsy compared to other students. "I'll try to pull you out now."

"Okay, thank you, Megumi..."

You replied in a low voice, knowing that you had caused him trouble. He grabbed your waist with a big hand. For some reason, your back suddenly felt as soft as an electric shock, and you shivered.

Several windows in the building were open, and the wind that slipped in blew up your skirt, and after a few struggles, the corners of the skirt seemed to have been placed on your back, revealing the scenery inside... that is pink cotton panties with a small bow. No matter how much you struggle, you can't put the skirt down again.

Once you think about exposing you to your classmates, you are so embarrassed that you want to hide.

"Megumi...and please help me pull down the skirt, the skirt. Please-please..."

There's another eerie silence, and then- you feel the fabric of the panties rubbing gently against some sort of raised shape, wrapped in sensitive folds of flesh that seem to be awakened by the act, slowly flowing out of endearing water liquid.

There is a hint of panic in your confusion, but when you look back you can only glimpse the silent concrete wall. "...What happened?" Still, the hard part still rubs against you, and even your ass is forced to shake.

Your breathing is hurried. No, not possible. How did the plot of a porn movie happen to you? Not Megumi. He is so kind and sweet. impossible. "Megumi-kun, what are you, what are you doing? Stop...!!"

Megumi felt that the crotch was getting tighter and tighter, and he couldn't take it anymore. Now or never. His hand tugged up the skirt that was on your back, "Pull the skirt down for you, right? Stupid girl." Then he pulled your pure panties down, and your pussy and ass instantly exposed to air.

You screamed in horror, kicking your legs back as if trying to knock him back. Really, too dumb. Megumi grabs your ankles with ease and removes the panties and skirts that pull up, further humiliating you. Megumi slapped your naked ass mercilessly and reprimanded impatiently. "Be quiet."

There was a pitiful whimper in your throat, and the struggle gradually ceased.

Without the cover of underwear, the action became bold. A pair of lanky hands grabbed your ass and parted it like it was just soft bread, the pussy in between unprotected. Two fingers swirl in your pussy a few times, and a clear, sticky waterline has been pulled out.

"...You're soaking wet." Megumi simply stated the truth, but with a hint of mockery.

You can barely handle what's going on. Although the body is immobilized, you can still feel the heat radiating from the private parts, and the wet fluid is dripping from the thighs. You're wet in the face of this humiliating situation - are you craving a cock?

No need to endure any longer. Megumi fought back a slight disgust at himself, gritted his teeth. Without being able to see what's behind you, you whimpered and felt the unfamiliar, thick cock bottoming out unhindered, bringing unbearable and amazing heat.

You, who were still swearing, have been unable to say any continuous and meaningful words. Your vision is blurred by tears, and you can only moan like a kitten accidentally stuck.

Megumi's hands clenched your buttocks in order to adjust the posture at any time. He maintains a rough, grim rhythm, reluctant to even pull out to tease you a little, but just buries deep in your warm walls and pushes deeper while the ball presses against your shrinking sensitive cracks. That thrust is drastic and sinful, and can almost save you from this predicament - but no, it's heartbreaking that you realize that Megumi chose not to rescue you. The mind doesn't even have time for crying anymore, instead it's as comfortable as being immersed in clouds, with legs shaking violently in the air.

"...No, don't...don't...Fushiguro... let me go..."

You are crushed, and you resist with the last shreds of reason, but the sound of "Fushiguro" angers the hunting wolf - and begins bruising your cervix, and the resistance becomes broken sobbing and moans again. How long has it been since you called him by his last name? After today, you won't look at him with the same respect and admiration again. Probably never. He knew what he was doing.

That's why he has to ruin you now.

"I'm going to cum in it." Megumi announced calmly as if this was just normal news rather than a possible orgasm and pregnancy. You catch the fear and sanity that is about to disappear, screaming that you don't want his baby - until you feel that fertile seed pouring into it.

In this abandoned place, the whimper was drowned in the lewd sound of water, and Megumi's occasional gasp. Your mind melts in pleasure, and there is no more protest. You've squirted on his cock countless times, and there's a little puddle under leg.

Megumi is also tired, which takes more time than getting rid of the curse. It's time to finish.

The moment the dick is pulled out, there is some milky, warm cum out of your pussy. This is no doubt filled. And you murmured his name, shaking your fully bred ass and legs gently.

Megumi is not sure that you still have a clear mind, but you will recover. Even so, you can't go back to the work of removing the curse. He can imagine how you'll be when you're there - you're pouting, your breasts are swollen, and feeding the baby, while your sleepy husband cuddles with you and his dick is buried in your pussy.

He knew how smooth it would be, and no one would object. It is a baby who inherited ten shadows technique, after all.

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uchihabucketlist · 8 months

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lmaoo

I have a scenario where Yandere Dragon Dan Heng is railing the reader so hard that he cummed inside of her

creampie or something that could work

I was just going to write a little bit…but sorry… I added a lot of stuff that the ask didn't have. And then who can save my brainrot😖😩💕💖 Dragon Dan Heng is doing the ceremony. He doesn't quite know what human consent is like…

CW: hsr leaks, non-con, forced breeding, dragon egg, mentioned spawning

The Luofu High Elder invites you to participate in the ceremony. You are curious about those who have dragon features, so you said yes.

If you know Vidyadhara a bit more, maybe you won't agree to the night ritual. You don't realize that's what the "breeding night" ritual means. The power of dragons is immortal from within, granting them enduring stamina. "Stop-uh…!! Stop…" Imbibitor Lunae bred with you all night under the moon's watchful eye, his tail never leaving your waist and ass during that time. All possible soreness is healed within minutes, but those pleasures are continuing to wipe away your sanity like being thrown into the sky to contract, release without burden and orgasm. Those pearl aqua eyes watch your reaction. He leans down, stretches and rams between your thighs. "I know it's a long time for humans, but there are still several hours before the ceremony ends." The dragon's seeds are hotter and thicker than humans. Weirdly, the seeds really fill yours, so some flow in the palace of water. Calming warmth and contentment. Waiting for the dragon cock to swell up and stretch you again, absorbing another round of load.

After a ray of dawn shines into the palace, you are thankful that you can still think. Is it over? "You've done a good job." He nodded, acknowledging your contribution. It used to be impossible to even find volunteers. You are perfect as a volunteer. "Now, you have to stay here for a few hours to ensure that the dragon eggs can be bred smoothly."

"What dragon egg…?!" Horror takes hold of you, but your legs are wide open, pinned down to keep the seeds from spilling out. And the fertile seeds of the dragon heat and flow.

"Huh?" Dan Heng was a little confused by your reaction. Isn't this what you promised? "Yes, wait for the dragon egg to conceive. At night, I will give you another one. The ceremony will continue."

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uchihabucketlist · 8 months

Text

Omega Marechi (Yandere!Muzan x Omega!Marechi!Reader x Yandere!Upper-Moons) pt 2

Warnings; my abo au (less than 1000 omegas worldwide), omega reader, dub-con, NSFW, inappropriate use of stockades, bondage, voyeurism, violence (between upper moons, not towards reader), polyamorous relationship, mention of abo au society, breeding kink, bondage kink, blood kink, marking, praise kink, fem bodied reader, fem pronouned reader,

(Extra note; Akaza respects the hell out of women, I feel this intense respect would extend to all omegas regardless of gender. That being said, that means the same for Douma's 'taste' in prey, and it would extend to all omegas as well.)

(let me know if y'all want a male reader version or a continuation of this one)

~~~~~~~~

Each rough thrust made you whine loudly from the stimulation as you rocked back and forth from the force. The modified stockade you found yourself in removing most of the rocking force from the intense drilling you were enduring from the large alpha cock inside of you. You barely registered the sound of deep growling as you were far too preoccupied with the pounding you were recieving.

The growling was coming from Kokushibou- the alpha who was allowed to mount you after Muzan somewhat had his fill- and the growl was clearly directed towards the other approaching alpha. Both rainbow decorated eyes were almost gleeful in the way they focused on Kokushibou, Douma taking clear amusement in disrupting the other alpha's intense mating. Despite how Kokushibou growled, he was clearly not fully focused on Douma, more focused on the feel and sensation of mating an omega.

Douma was keen on getting as close as he could to the opposing alpha, if only to tease the alpha and get closer to you- the alluring scented omega. As it seemed apparent that Douma was not going to stop or interrupt his coupling with you, Kokushibou stopped growling but continued to keep one of his six eyes on the other demon. Despite the distraction, the tempo and speed at which he moved his hips remained consistent to keep you more than overwhelmed with continued pleasure at the hands of the alpha breeding you.

The other upper-moons watched the spectacle with keen interest, all waiting for their turn to claim the soft omega in such an intimate way. Their sire- Muzan- was busy overhead in his lab, studying the properties of marechi omega blood as compared to his constant struggle against the sun. Occasionally he would glance towards where you were shackled, keenly observing your soft figure locked in the stockade he had created for you. He would have to willfully break off his line of sight to keep his attention on his work, but his eyes would often wander back to you if only to ensure the upper-moons caused you no true harm.

Akaza was obvious in his untrusting observation of Douma, ready to step in should the demon pose any threat to you. As Douma explained his preference for women, an omega far surpased any woman Douma could possibly consume. Due to knowing the other demon's preferences, Akaza did not trust Douma anywhere near you.

Douma obviously ignored Akaza and Kokushibou, opting instead to approach your front, cupping your cheek affectionately as if he planned to kiss you. He drew close to you but instead of locking his lips with yours as you expected, he ducked under your front and latched his lips around your perked nipple. You let out a yelping whine of pleasure as you felt the intense way the demon latched to your breast, worried those sharp teeth would try to sink into your sensitive breasts.

"Douma, don't you dare mark her."

The intimidating voice of the apex alpha that sired the demons boomed out, his tone akin to a hateful hiss. Douma growled softly as if he were going to argue, but instead busied himself with suckling on your warm nipple.

"None of you are permitted to mark her until I allow you to."

Even with the booming command of apex alpha, Kokushibou did not falter in his need to knot you. You could feel the way the knot formed at the base of his large cock, pressing and pushing against your warm body. Each thrusting movement pushed a bit further into you before that knot slid into your hot walls, swelling and locking the alpha in place as he let out a loud moaning snarl. At the same time, you cried out in pleasure from the almost instinctual orgasm that washed over you due to being knotted by the alpha.

You were left gasping and shaking, trying to get your breathing under control after having your sweet omega mind scrambled by the thick cock that still sat wedged against your warm walls. Part of you was thankful for the stockades that held you up and in place, well aware that you would not be able to stay standing long without it. Even if it was uncomfortable in the sense that you were trapped in whatever position it held you in, you still felt thankful for the support.

Douma continued to happily switch off and suckle on your warm breasts, kneading the soft flesh beneath his fingers as you struggled to calm your body. You were wating for that swollen knot to be able to slide back out of you without causing you any harm and it was clear Kokushibou was waiting for the exact same thing.

To your surprise, the demon was being quite gentle and slowly running his hands over your back, soothing you with his almost sweet behavior. You felt the swelling of his knot go down before he slowly pulled out of you, careful to not move too quickly. There was hadly even a moment for you to relax before Douma took his place behind you.

You had not seen the demon move before you felt his hands on your hips and a soft whine left your lips. The whine seemed to make Akaza react as he glared at the other demon with apparent hate in his eyes.

"If you hurt her-"

"I'm not going to hurt the omega, Akaza-dono. She is far too precious to hurt. Though, I certainly wouldn't mind taking off a limb or two to eat-"

An apparent growl cut Douma off, drawing the attention of all demons near you. The sound came from their sire, Muzan, and he had a displeased expression on his face as he snarled. Clearly the apex alpha was reacting to your very frightened scent and found Douma's line of conversation to be displeasing.

"That is enough. There will be no more talk about removing the omega's limbs. Either take your turn and mate her, or quiet yourself and let one of the other moons mate her."

Douma seemed to wave off the thinly veiled threat and grabbed your hips, clearly eager to take his turn mounting you. He wasted no time in sliding his thick cock into you, not even giving you time to adjust to the sudden intrusion that filled your body. You let out an uncomfortable wail at being so suddenly used, still sensitive from the pounding Kokushibou had given you moments ago.

Douma clearly did not care you were sensitive or displeased with the intrusion as he began thrusting away into you wildly. Despite how unhappy Akaza seemed with the blond demon, he did not stop Douma from slam,ming into you. Instead he glared at the other demon, obviously displeased with the situation and just waiting for Douma to give him a reason to pull him off of you.

It became obvious that you could be as uncomfortable as ever, the demons did not truly care so long as you weren't being harmed to the extreme. That thought alone caused immense sorrow and shame to build up in you, a dangerous cocktail of emotions for an omega to endure. Still, the instinctual pleasure built up in you until you couldn't hold back any longer, feeling your walls squeeze around that large cock as he shoved his large knot inside of you, locking the two of you together.

It was around this time that tears began to drip down your face, the feeling of being used poisoning your mind and sinking you into despair. Your body was practically spent as the alpha lazily rocked his hips, as if trying to get himself hard again instead of waiting for the swelling in his knot to go down. When he finally pulled out of you, there were obvious tears streaked down your delicate cheeks.

Unsurprisingly, Akaza was ready and waiting to take over after Douma despite the way your legs shook and struggled to hold you up. Douma made a point of sauntering away at his own pace after adjusting his clothing back into place. You jumped slightly from the feeling of hands on your hips, bracing yourself for the next round of mating.

To your surprise, he didn't immediately thrust into you or even grab you all that roughly. Instead, Akaza gently rubbed your hips, moving up your sides with slow soothing strokes of affection. The gentle touch actually managed to relax you and you felt your body respond in kind to the sweet actions, releasing the tension in your muscles.

It was interesting to have such a frightening monster of a demon behave in such a gentle way with you where the three demons before him had been rather rough with you. He moved at a gentle pace and used his battle-worn hands to massage away the tension and apprehension you had stored inside of you. Soon, soft lips trailed up your back to where you were stuck in the stockade, the rigid tool releasing you so you could move of your own accord. Akaza's hands continued their gentle path up your body as he pulled you up against him, his arms moving to cover your chest and heat from view.

It was an unusual feeling to have such protection from a demon alpha like Akaza, but something about it made you feel rather precious. You now felt more like a truly adored omega and not how you had been feeling like a demon cum-dump. This demon didn't casually disregard that your emotions impacted you far more than other ranks, instead he focused on them.

Despite every part of you screaming at you that you were surrounded by danger, you felt your body relaxing into the warm embrace. The tears staining their way down your face were gently wiped away by a loving and affectionate hand that soothed you immensely. No new tears fell as you leaned back into his embrace, happily allowing the alpha to comfort you and hold you.

As his hand found its way between your soft thighs you happily let them part to give the alpha room. Something about the alpha and the gentle way he treated you had you absolutely melting into his hold, allowing him to move and position you as he wished all while he kissed your shoulders and neck. You felt his impatient length press stiffly against your ass as he slowly moved his hips against your own for just a bit of friction.

Unlike how you had been with the other two- or even the demon king- you began to let out a sweet sound akin to purring. The noise made the other demons in the area look over in surprise as you continued to purr for the red-haired demon. There was a kind of jealousy in their eyes as the three strongest of them had not managed to elicit such a sound. Even the king in all of his focus on his scientific endeavors couldn't help but notice how affectionately you purred to the third upper moon.

Akaza ignored the stares from the other upper moons and slowly slid his hot length in between your legs. He ensured to thoroughly soak himself with your plentiful juices before he let that impatient rod press up against your warm hole and start teasing his way into you. His movements were slow and relaxed as he worked himself into you with small thrusting motions, sliding farther into your heat with each slow roll of his hips.

Once he was fully sheathed inside of you, Akaza began a slow pace to start off his exploration of your welcoming walls. All he seemed to want was your approval as he mated you and he was happy to put in the work to render you a blissed out and purring mess.

You moved your hips with his thrusts, doing your best to match and pace his relaxed motions. Out of the four you have been mounted by, Akaza was the only one where you actually reciprocated the behavior beyond your normal instinctual desire to be filled. This reciprocation had the onlookers practically shaking in a jealous rage.

It was obvious that you were pleased with the more gentle treatment he was providing as you continued to purr and mewl in pleasure. Your scent- unbeknownst to you- became far stronger than it had been prior, reflecting your far more pleasing experience at the hands of the red-haired demon. That scent taunted those who had not yet gotten the chance to touch you, but it taunted those who have already had you even more. It taunted them because they had not managed to get you to a similar state despite their higher ranks and more plentiful experience.

Muzan in particular was furious he had not been the one to reduce you to such a state.

As Akaza's thrusts sped up, your voice took a higher pitch and became more like a repeated cry of bliss instead of whimpers like you had been letting out. Your change in behavior told the other demons many things, the first being that you were more likely to go to Akaza for further mating than you were to go to any of the others. The second being that they could pound you all they liked, you wouldn't reciprocate the way they wanted unless they soothed and charmed you first.

You leaned back against Akaza's chest, letting the red-head completely ravage you. The teasing push of his knot against your dripping pussy made you purr louder and try to push your hips back against his thrusts to encourage him to knot you. Similarly, your own orgasm was creeping up on you as your warm walls tightened around his thrusting cock.

"Good girl."

The low praise hummed pleasantly against your ear and your entire body responded.

Your sweet purrs picked up in volume and your moans became far more frequent, only broken up by the thrusts into your soft body. He finally thrusted hard enough that his knot slid into you, locking his hips to yours as you let out a loud pleasured cry in response to being knotted as your own stubborn orgasm finally washed over you.

All you could do was lay back against the demon's chest, letting him hold you up as he continued to peper your neck with gentle kisses. You purred and tilted your head, trying to get the alpha to mark you as he clearly had your best interests in mind. It seemed like the alpha was keen on marking you as well, but the Demon King's words held him back.

"Please... Please, mark me..! I want it... I need..!"

Your whines were continuous and near incoherent as you tried desperately to make the alpha mark you. Akaza seemed torn between obeying your breathy pleads or following the orders of the apex alpha demon king. It made the red-head glance at the demon king with a raised brow, listening to you whine and yelp for him as he silently asked his king.

You were too preoccupied with whining for Akaza to take note of whatever the King's response was. The gentle feeling of warm lips on your neck made you shiver in anticipation, your breath hitching and gasping. A second passed before you realized the King had decended from on high to stand before you, his teeth suddenly sinking into the front of your soft neck the moment you noticed him.

The sudden bite startled you and you let out a soft whining cry, having a tough time breathing in due to the pressure on your throat. Akaza continued to kiss your neck and shoulders, trying to soothe you after the less than friendly way the demon king marked you.

Once he released your throat, you felt Akaza gently kiss your shoulder to where it met your neck. He gave several open mouthed kisses before slowly letting his teeth sink down and break your delicate skin, putting his mark on you. You wanted to reciprocate the mark he gave you, but the demon king gripped your chin making sure you looked him in the eyes.

"You will mark me as your mate first and foremost, but only after I have finished my research on your blood and the upper moons have mated you, then you may mark the others."

You wanted desperately to reciprocate the marks made on your soft skin, but you knew better than to argue with the demon king. All you could do was nod and lower your head in a non-threatening way, showing you were willing to do what the Apex Alpha told you.

As the swelling of Akaza's knot went down, he pulled out of you gently and let you breathe for a moment. It was Muzan who put you back into the stockade, leaving you once more in the very vulnerable position of being bent over and exposed. There were still four other upper moons that were going to mate you before you could be temporarily free of the stockade, resigning to your fate.

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