Can you please do a yandere werehog sonic x willing reader
YANDERE! WEREHOG SONIC X WILLING READER
i ordered a werehog sonic plush and he is coming next week.
—
He knows he’s not normal right now, he always gets a little crazy at night. Ever since the whole werehog thing started, he’s been stonger, feral, obsessed. (wiiiith you!)
He spirals fast. He confesses on a full moon, not because it was planned, but because the instincts are strongest on a full moon. One night, he’s pacing in the forest telling himself, “I gotta tell ‘em. Gotta let them know before someone else does.”
One night you’re just sitting with him, talking, laughing, and you simply mention someone’s name. He snaps. Breath hitches, eyes glowing, his claws dig into the ground.
“I can’t take it anymore. It’s you, It’s always been you! And I- I know I’m a freak right now. I’m not like I usually am. But I need you. You’re all I think about- All I want..” Definitely not the most romantic confession, his voice was filled with pure desperation. His hands rose to grip you by the shoulders.
“Say you feel the same, please, Y/N.”
“..Yeah, I do.”
He freezes, you can see him processing it. Then-
He immediately pulled you in for a kiss. No thoughts, just instinct. It’s teeth and claws and trembling hands cause he’s held this back for SO LONG. He finally pulls back.
“You’re not just sayin’ that? You want me?” You nod.
The growl he let out was relieved, he wrapped his arms around you tight and his tail was wagging like crazy.
“You’re mine now. No goin’ back, got it?”
After the confession, he moves in with you IMMEDIATELY. no suitcase, no asking, just “Hope you weren’t using this drawer. It’s mine now.” literally leaves fur everywhere and acts like YOU are the guest now. (feels kinda bad when he transforms back, he’ll clean it up in an instant. he CAN move at the speed of sound after all, just not as a werehog.)
He refuses to sleep apart from you. Even if it’s hot, even if you’re sick, even if he’s sick. He’s curled around you every night.
He just constantly follows you around the house. If you’re showering, he’s waiting outside the door. If you’re cooking, he’s hovering behind you, hands on your waist.
“No, no babe you’re missin’ the point. I live here now! With you. Forever. This is a thing now.”
Gets crazy jealous in public. Laugh at someone else’s joke and he’s draped over you like some giant jacket.
“You laughin’ at his joke? I’m ten times funnier, I’ll prove it to you.”
sulks dramatically for the next hour…
You start catching him taking your things, a hairtie, a shirt, a scarf.. You end up finding them tucked under his pillow. His excuse was that they smelled like you. You were confused cause he literally had you, like, as a person.. Guess he needs to have you even when you’re not around.
He wants to be included in EVERYTHING. Any plans you have, you gotta invite him. If you go shopping, he’s carrying the bags. Sleep-overs?? will not let you go if he’s not there.
Gets moody and feral when you aren’t around. Starts pacing around the house talking to himself, huffing, claws flexing.
“Where are they.. Where are they!? They should’ve been home by now..” Will not resist tracking you down by scent.
He just picks you up randomly, just scoops you up for fun or comfort or something. Even if someone just walks by the two of you, he gets all twitchy and just HAS to have you in his arms. Just letting everyone know who you belong to.
grooms you like an animal sometimes… If you have something on your face, he licks it off. No questions asked.
“Problem?”
“..You just licked my cheek, Sonic.”
“You taste nice.”
Always trying to mark you. Rubs his scent on your neck, nibbles you out of habit, sleeps with your clothes so it smells like him..
He’s really smug about dating you.
“Told you I’d win you over. You never stood a chance.” Then he curls around you like the giant puppy he is. goodness.
He would never hurt you, but everyone else is fair game.
He was lowkey embarrassed of the werehog form at first. Every night he felt that animalistic pull, he would hide from you, vanishing completely. He’d push it aside when you would bring it up. Only thing going through his head while he’s transformed is, “They can’t see me like this. I’m not.. me.”
he is completely convinced that you’ll be scared of him. He’s afraid you’ll look like him like everyone else did. Like a weapon, like a monster. The idea of you flinching at him or trembling beneath him?? he’d rather die.
Despite all his attempts, he does inevitably end up transforming in front of you. Maybe he was trying to protect you, maybe he was caught off guard and didn’t have time to run or teleport away before he dropped to his knees as his muscles stretched and bulked up, gloves ripping off as his claws dug in the ground. (yeowch!) def goes insane like oh my goodness NO WHY INFRONT OF THEM
When he finally stands up to full height, expecting you to run or yell, you just blink and tilt your head like “…this is why you’ve been avoiding me??”
Shadow is SO CONFUSED, “you’re not.. afraid?” His voice was deeper, growlier, HOT.. He tried to warn you, like “You don’t understand. I could hurt you.. I could lose control. I’m not the same in this form-“ (he really is, just grumpier and more like a puppy lololol)
“You’re still you! Just, with fangs and bigger arms and stuff..” welp! atleast he doesn’t have to hide anymore. NOW FOR THE DATING LIFE!
He isn’t too fond of PDA, or even going out in public in general. Unless he’s fighting off some wild monster, he’ll stay inside whether it’s in a cave or a house. If he does happen to be in public dealing with other people, HES WAY MORE TERRITORIAL! if someone so much as looks at you weird, he’ll growl and step in front of you.
IN PRIVATE THOUGH?? different story. super clingy, possessive, physically needy.. his instincts DEMAND closeness (especially on full moons..!) but seriously he hates how much he wants to nuzzle you, but when he catches someone else’s scent on you?? he just can’t control it! He’ll rub his cheek on your shoulder and neck with a frustrated huff.
HE SLEEPS CURLED AROUND YOU LIKE AN ACTUAL WOLF!! doesn’t even do it consciously, it’s totally instinct. Arms, legs, tail (if you headcanon the werehogs to have a long tail ofc lol), trust it’s all wrapped around you.
When he’s in his werehog form, his temper is EXPLOSIVE! but you can calm him down in an instant. When he’s tense and snarling all you need to do is touch his arm.. then he’ll calm down near immediately.
He’ll never hurt you with his claws, ever. even if he’s mid fight and lost control, he will always recognize you, your scent, your voice.. He’ll be on a rampage and freeze the second he hears your voice.
He howls sometimes, he can’t help it, he is totally embarrassed. You catch him doing it?? he considers starting to hide from you again lmao
You have to help him tame his claws and fur.. He hates the idea of it, but when your gentle hands run through his fur preparing to brush it? He can’t help but melt, a deep rumbling growl in his chest. (i like making non cat characters purr sorry lol)
“This is unnecessary.”
“You’re purring.”
“…No I am not.”
The cuddles are like.. 20 times more intense. Doesn’t even ask for cuddles, he’ll just yank you down.
His ears twitch when you say his name. He pretends to not care, but they perk up every time. He acts annoyed if you tease him about it.
“Cute.”
“…I’ll bite you.”
EAR SCRATCHES MAKE HIM MELT!! the second your fingers touch the base of his ear, his head lowers, eyes close, his tail starts thumping against the bed.. He’ll let out a tiny annoyed groan if you stop.
Chin scratches though?? They’re like an off switch for him, he gets sleepy fast, he’ll head will tilt up, eyes fluttering and he’ll probably start doing that thing where his leg kicks like a giant puppy. (also twitches in his sleep like a puppy)
Even if he pretends he doesn’t like it, he really likes when you’re buried in his chest fur. Especially when you’re sleeping on top of him, sleeping on top of him feels like sleeping on a CLOUD. you can’t believe he’s been hiding all this from you for so long.
He gets upset if you try to fall asleep without cuddling with him. He’ll pull you into his arms so quick and whisper to you,
“You forgot me.”
“…Sorry.”
“Hmph..” (as his grip tightens)
YES he’s embarrassed every time he returns back to normal. but that doesn’t change how he acts when he transforms back. the instincts take OVERRRR
Dude I’ve been having thots,, I must share them with you and get ur opinion or reaction especially since a lot of ur shadow smuts revolve around a certain hedgy having a breeding kink. Imagine if you’re on birth control tablets and he sees you taking them one day and you tell him what they’re for, I feel like he’d either get all grumpy and sad because oh boy does he have a massive breeding kink even if he knew rationally you probably were on some sort of contraception (that’s even if it could happen) or he’d get all gloomy n sad but would refuse to tell you because he thinks it’s silly and immature to feel that way especially if you’ve been together for a while, but I feel like he’d probably let it slip when you’re both getting freaky afterwards because it would mix in with his dirty talk about how hes gonna fuck the birth control out of you 💀
!! NSFW !!
This is in the time he’s not ready to be a father, but has the kink.
Shadow seems like the type of person to have discussed safety and methods prior along with whether or not if it’s even possible. He’s not going to take that risk, especially at your expense.
During the season, sometimes Shadow magically forgets. Absolutely fixated on you. Remembering causes him to get frustrated. The hell are you on pills for? You should be wanting a child just as mush as he does!
“Hmph. Do what you want. I won’t let something minor such as a pill get in my way. ”
Oh boy, if it moves on to sulking. The rush of emotions Shadow gets are definitely being internalized until it’s time to get down and dirty 100%. Like a balloon bursting as it slowly gets filled up with air. Those are rough sessions. Your poor legs won’t be working for a while.
Outside of rutting season, he rationally knows you’re on birth control pills. It still doesn’t lessen the embarrassment after Shadow’s hormones have calmed. His cheeks are going to match his gay highlights.
If the first time was spontaneous and he found out later down the line after multiple attempts, Shadow would absolutely be upset and annoyed. A pouty hedgehog is in your hands.
Grabbing you by the hips, Shadow leans in close. His breath tickling your lips, “You’re telling me all this effort attempting to put a baby in you was a waste of time?” A yelp is forced out of you when his hand slid down to firmly grab your ass. “Or perhaps, I need to try harder?”
Shadow struggling even more to keep his distance away from you, now knowing you’re on birth control. The pill is 99% effective and he is desperately trying to convince himself that 1% chance of it failing. Even then, that’s only if you’re taking them perfectly. Typical use is 91% effective. Odds are stacked against him, but Shadow is the ultimate life form goddamnit!
“Seven out of a hundred get pregnant on the pill… I’m determined to make you one of them.”
You're not like other people (Shadow x Reader) and I would like to thank everyone who participated in the voting system :)
Pairings -> Shadow The Hedgehog x Reader
Warnings -> None
Note -> Shadow seems to like you more than anyone else, you treat him better. He then starts to follow you around and stick to you just in case if something happens to you
Genre -> Fluff
Shadow The Hedgehog
You're not like other people...
You showed Shadow more kindness and gentleness, and he could tell you were a good-hearted person the moment he laid eyes on you.
He liked you more than anyone he had met, with the exception of Maria, because of your tender hands and your kind remarks.
He could see Maria within you since your sillyness showed whenever he was feeling low or depressed, and your smile illuminated the room on the darkest evenings.
Your affectionate gestures were different, you gave him soft pats or scratches behind his ears to help him relax, and your dancing made him cringe in the most flattering way possible to provoke a response from him rather that him being sulky all the time.
He adored everything you did for him, and he loved you in return.
Even if he's not very good at it, he merely thinks of all the things he could do to make you feel better, like protecting you or lifting your spirits when you're felling down. At least he's making an effort, or perhaps he's giving you presents in secret.
Ever since he fell down from saving the earth from explosion that Dr Gerald Robotnik wanted as revenge for his grand-daughter Maria, Shadow was convinced that this was the wrong thing to do as it won't bring Maria back..
His goal was to save the planet, and he succeeded, but at what cost? He could feel himself slipping downward more quickly.
When he collapsed back on Earth, he was unconscious, but where was he? He could smell the earthy dirt that tickled his nostrils, all he could feel beneath him was dirt.
However, he heard and sensed something else. A voice? Where was he and whose voice was that?
"Where did you come from?" The stranger's voice sounded clearer, and he could hear its kindness since it was free of fear, stuttering, or trembling.
Then he felt a kind, cautious hand embrace him in. "Oh you poor thing.. You must be hurt" He heard the voice again, and then he sensed a person moving.
What was he being taken to? He doesn't want to return, but what if they were to take him back?
Their footsteps were silent, and he could hear the rhythm of the person carrying him's heartbeat, whether it was fast or slow. He found that listening to the heartbeat helped him relax.
As they kept going, he could then hear them humming, which is incredibly pleasant and reassured him that nothing was to bother him.
Shadow heard the humming fade into the darkness as he knows couldn't hear anything around him, it had seem that he fully went to knocked out mode.
Now it felt hours on end as he now could hear things around him, his body felt warm and covered. His ear flickered at the slightest sound as he now was waking up, his eyes fluttering open as he groaned at the massive headache he just got.
He heard the humming again.. the sweet sound of humming that sooth his headache to go away..
He began to sit up as the blanket that was covering him slightly shifted off of his upper body, his fur was cleaned and hes air shoes were off, neatly placed on the floor near the bed that he was sitting on
He looked around to see where he was, he was definitely not back in the G.U.N base, but the room was slightly dimmed by the sunlight behind the curtains. The walls were painted in (F/C) and the carpet beneath looked soft and fluffy to stand on.
The humming has come to a stop as he saw the person standing near the door way for the room. It was a young person, a smile stuck on their face as they realised that Shadow was now awake
"Oh! You're awake" Their soft voice spoke, it sounded nice to listen to, but Shadow couldn't know if you could be trusted, his ear flicked again
"Can you talk?" You spoke, Shadow eyes lingered on you, trying to cause any squirmy reaction or at least a shiver, but he nodded
"Good! But I have a heap of questions to ask ya little guy" You spoke in pure excitement as you gave a little clap
Shadow was curious about you all of a sudden, you weren't scared of him
He was a 4-5ft hedgehog that was made in a laboratory how can you not be scared of him?
"Are- Are you not scared of me?" He spoke which made you froze suddenly, you didn't actually think he would speak
Your eyes were widen but softened "Of course not! Why would I be scared of a cute guy like you?"
Shadow huffed at that as his ear flicked at the word 'cute' but he didn't say anything to make you upset, the pure smile laid on your face made his heart soften
He could see Maria in you for some reason, even though he just met you. He knew he could trust you
"You can stay here as long as you want, I found you in a grass field near my house as I hear the commotion outside so I wanted to take a look and saw you, so I picked you up and took you back to my house which you are in right now"
Your kind words made him realise you were the one that picked him up and carried him back here, to your house
He gave a little huff though his nose as he said "Thank you" In a whispered tone but obviously you hear it as you gave a little giggle and stepped out of the room which caused him to follow you
He didn't know why but he just did, his mind was telling him that he can't trust you now but his heart was telling him to follow you and protect you
Hello! May I request a shadow x reader, where the reader loves him in any form or shape, etc. Imagine Shadow turning into that Doom morph in Sonic X Shadow generations, and reader is still head over heels for him. Admiring his form with gleaming eyes filled with fondness and adoration, plus readers curiosity of touching those tentacles, or all of him in general.
Thank you!
unwavering adoration
WARNING: None
PAIRING: Shadow the Hedgehog x Reader
NOTE: Thank you so much for requesting this! Hope you enjoy :)
SUMMARY: You’ve always admired Shadow in every way. When you stumble upon him in his Doom morph, your reaction catches him off guard—but in the best way.
You had always loved every part of Shadow, from his calm, stoic strength to his unwavering loyalty to those he cared about. But even after all this time, it was clear he still kept parts of himself hidden.
When you stumbled across him in his other form—a figure with dark, twisting tentacles and an otherworldly aura swirling around him—you felt a spark of intrigue and awe instead of the fear he probably expected.
"Shadow?" you whispered, taking a cautious step forward. "Is… that you?"
A deep, layered voice responded. “Yes. I didn't mean for you to see me like this. Sorry.” His words sounded richer, darker somehow, like they were coming from another realm altogether.
You couldn’t stop the wonder from spreading across your face as you studied the mysterious form before you. Shadow was still himself, but there was a supernatural energy that gave him a powerful, almost regal presence. “You can talk like that? That's amazing.”
Shadow tilted his head, his red eyes glowing with an intensity that could intimidate anyone but you. “You’re… not frightened?”
You shook your head, absolutely fascinated. “No way. It’s… beautiful. Can I…?” You hesitated, then reached out toward one of the dark, smooth tentacles, curiosity radiating from you.
He nodded, watching you carefully. “If you wish.”
Your fingers lightly brushed one of the tentacles. It was cool and smooth to the touch, surprisingly gentle as it wrapped around your hand, almost instinctively curling to hold you. You laughed softly, beaming at him.
“They’re so cool,” you murmured, running your fingers along the tentacle, and then up to where it connected to his shoulder. “I had no idea you could look like this.”
Shadow’s gaze softened as he watched you explore his form without fear or hesitation. “It’s… a part of me I didn’t think you’d ever see,” he admitted quietly. “This form was something I thought best kept… hidden.”
“Well, it doesn’t have to be.” You smiled up at him, your admiration evident in your eyes. “I think it’s incredible. It’s just another side of you.”
For the first time, Shadow felt a sense of pride in his other form. Not because of its power or fearsome nature, but because you saw it as something worthy of appreciation.
“I could stay in this form a bit longer,” he offered quietly, voice dipping into that layered tone that sent a pleasant shiver through you. “If you’re comfortable with it.”
You grinned, nodding eagerly. “I’m more than comfortable. There’s just… so much to take in.” You took a small step back, letting your eyes roam over his figure, noting the way the dark energy seemed to pulse and breathe around him, as though alive in its own right.
Shadow’s gaze softened further. “Then take all the time you need.”
You reached out once more, this time trailing your fingers along the glowing red markings on him. They were cool to the touch, and you swore you felt a subtle thrum of power beneath your fingertips. “You don’t have to hide anything from me, Shadow,” you whispered, voice filled with gentle affection. “I’ll always want every part of you, no matter what it looks like.”
For the first time, he seemed to struggle for words, caught off guard by the depth of your acceptance. “I never expected anyone to feel… this way about it.” He closed his eyes for a moment, letting himself truly relax, feeling the trust between you deepen.
When he opened his eyes again, there was a softness in his expression, the faintest trace of a smile gracing his features. “Thank you,” he murmured.
You gazed up at him with the same unyielding fondness. “You’ll never need to thank me for that. Being with you—every part of you—is my choice.”
The air between you felt charged with a shared understanding, a quiet intimacy that transcended even words. Shadow gently wrapped one of his tentacles around your shoulders, pulling you into a gentle embrace, his gaze lingering on you with gratitude.
As you rested against him, feeling the unique combination of warmth and otherworldly energy that surrounded him, you knew one thing for certain: there would never be a side of Shadow you couldn’t love.
Pairing: Prince/Firelord!Geto x Belly Dancer!Reader x Prince Zuko
Synopsis: You are hired as the live entertainment for the Fire Nation's annual celebration as a belly dancer, groomed to dance for the elite and wealthy. You entertain with your body for a living and you're happy to do so, finding purpose and enjoyment in your dancing. Unbeknowst to you, two certain Firelord brothers have found enjoyment in your dancing as well and they are prepared to show you one hot night within the privacy of a bedroom.
Warnings: 18+; No Curse/Avatar AU; Brother!Geto x Brother!Zuko; Incest (but not really cuz they not f*cking each other lol); Threesome; Seduction; Body Worship; Curvy!Reader; Belly Dancing; Stripping; Dom!Geto x sub!Reader x Switch!Zuko; Dual Pussy Eating; Sharing Is Caring; Dual Blowjob; Deepthroating; Facefucking; Spit Play; Doggystyle; Mating Press; Breeding; Raw Creampies; Mild Power Play; Reader Cums 3x; Aftercare
Word Count: 9.1k
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!
Writer's Note: This is my first installment for @madamechrissy's crossover collab!! Y'all please go give her ALL the love, grace & praise because she deserves it!! This woman is just as amazing just as a person as she is a writer & I'm honored that she puts up with my horny ideas lmaoo enjoy!!! <3 -Jazz
Credits: Zuko x Geto fanart found on Pinterest! If you know the artist, PLEASE tag me so I can properly credit them! Divider by @cursed-carmine!
You stand at the threshold of the master bedroom belonging to the Firelord, Prince Zuko, the polished mahogany doors staring back at you.
Dozens of Fire Nation guards, tasked with protecting the royals, stand outside against the wall, two on either side of you. They were the ones who guided you here, telling you that the Firelords requested to see you tonight.
You have every assumption as to why. It isn't a rarity or unaccustomed to you for royal members to request for you after hiring you for a party. You are a dancer, after all...with some other "skills" on the side that you use to your advantage.
While you know how to play the game among the royal court and have no problem refusing to spend the night with any royals after performing for them at one of their grand parties, you would be lying if you said you didn't want to be alone with the Firelords for the night.
You have been around them for some time now. As the royal belly dancer, groomed to dance for the elite and the wealthy, you were bound to make the acquaintance of the Fire Nation Family at some point...including the Firelord brothers. Both calm, poised, mysterious, and devilishly handsome.
They have been on your radar for a long time, filling your endless nights with hot fantasies of the two of them. Sometimes one at a time, sometimes together. Entangled limbs, your fingertips caressing their muscles, their tongues licking stripes across your skin.
You long to tear down that wall of mystery and restraint that the brothers have meticulously built around themselves. Especially that Zuko. He is quiet and stoic, only speaking when required, preferring to talk with his actions instead. Geto Suguru is more open, striking either fear or intrigue into anyone with his charming smile and cunningness.
And now here you are, standing right outside of the brother's doors prepared to greet them. The twirling in your stomach is not of fear but of anticipation, wondering where the night will bring you. You bring up your fist and lightly knock, polite but firm. "Enter," a deep, silky voice commands. Geto's voice.
The voice that has commanded attacks on enemies and brought you to orgasm so many times. Swallowing hard, you twist the doorknob and enter the master bedroom. It is a large, wide space with stone walls and windows overlooking the courtyard and Fire Nation, the summer breeze and afternoon sun pouring into the room.
On one side sits a large king-sized bed topped with pillows of all sizes and arrays of gold and red. The same as the carpets and curtains softly swaying in the summer evening. Geto Suguru, the oldest brother, sits in the middle of the room on the carpeted floor surrounded by a slew of expensive pillows and blankets.
He sits at a knee-level table surrounded with delicacies of all kinds, granite teacups with a brewing teapot, and a bottle of fireflower juice spiked with cinnamon, one of the most expensive bottles of alcohol in all the land. Geto is draped in a fine red robe adorned in intricate gold stitching at the flaps and black pants, his feet bare and black locks cascading down his muscular back.
He turns to look when you enter, his violet eyes piercing a hole into you. The butterflies in your tummy swarm, making your heart pound furiously in your chest.
“You required my services, Your Highness?” you ask, trying to keep your voice level and steady. Alas, it shakes a bit, coming out breathless at the sight of the handsome man. He gives you a small smile that is like a smack in the face. “Yes, little dancer. Come; have a seat. You may not be so formal with me. Call me Suguru."
You blink, unsure of how to reply. It is rare that a royal wants someone who is not within the court to be formal. His smile deepens, humored. “You look at me as if I’m tricking you. I can assure you that my father is nowhere within these four walls.” He then turns to the left side of the room where the light doesn't reach. “Isn’t that right, brother?”
You turn your head and that is when you see Zuko sitting there on a lounging sofa, wearing a black robe to blend in with the darkness. You can just see that his hair is also out, cascading in black waves down his back, and he is sipping some tea. You jump, placing a hand on your beating heart. “Oh! Prince Zuko, forgive me. I did not know you were here.”
Zuko doesn't reply; he only stares, somehow staring right through you. Both of his eyes render you speechless—the wounded one included. Many do not regard Zuko the same way they do Geto due to his burn scar, but you have always thought the disfigurement was quite sexy.
Geto chuckles, pouring himself some fireflower juice. “Don’t mind him. Zuko can be an enigma when he wants to be…which is all the time.” He smirks when his brother gives him a sharp glare from across the room. “Quiet, Geto. Don’t make me request your removal from this room.”
Geto smirks at you, unbothered by his brother's heated threat. “That’s code for “don’t make me murder you”,” he chuckles. “Nice, isn’t he?” He gives you a wink, jutting his chin at you. "To what may we call you? Though we know your name, we want you to feel comfortable."
Comfortable. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Many men always say this when you're within the confines of their bedroom, only wanting you relaxed so they may take advantage. "Y/N," you reply, giving the brothers a respectful bow as you shut the door behind you. It shuts with a click, making your stomach flip.
Zuko nods over at the table where his brother sits. “You may sit. Plenty of room.” Geto hums in agreement, a flame flickering from his fingertip as he lights himself a pipe filled with tobacco leaves. The smoke wafts through the air as you slowly walk across the room, feeling their eyes on you.
Though you are covered by a shawl draped over your shoulders, it is mesh, which means your midrif top showing off your stomach and long skirt that doesn't do much to hide your curves. Both red and decorated in gold stitching, dripping in gold beads that clink whenever you twist, turn, or move your hips and stomach when you dance.
You don't feel uncomfortable the way you used to whenever men ogled at your moves. If anything, you feel powerful. But now, under the brothers' hot gazes as you sit at the table, you feel exposed. Your layers peeled back like a fruit.
Geto motions down at the array of finger food before you: cheeses, dates, crusted breads, fruits covered in chocolate. “Would you care for a bite? Perhaps a drink? I have tea, water, wine…perhaps something stronger?” He eyes the bottle of fireflower juice sitting next to him.
You choose wine to loosen yourself up, grateful for the crisp taste as it slides down your throat once Geto pours you a goblet. “Thank you for your invitation, My Lords.
Geto shrugs like it's nothing, smoke billowing attractively from between his pink lips. The bottom lip is piercing with a small ring, unfortunately drawing your attention to his mouth. “Of course. You needed it after that performance you put on, I’m sure.” You act shy and modest, staring down at your wine. “Oh, it’s nothing. For me, that was a simple dance. I have done plenty more complex and strenuous.”
You were hired tonight to perform for the Fire Nation's Royal Family and their close party, dancing among the sounds of the drums and guitars as fire eaters surrounded you, swallowing swords emblazoned with flames. The flames were hot, but you were hotter. You danced like the heat didn't bother you, sweat sliding over your damp skin and curves as you winded and swirled your hips.
As you danced, surrounded by all of the royals, your eyes caught the brothers' gazes through the flicker of the flames, orange and red flickering across their handsome faces. Their unyielding gazes spurred you on, making your hips move faster and your body slither like a snake. You are famous among the royals for your dance moves and you were guaranteed to make them remember you.
Starting with the Firelord brothers. “Oh, well, we wouldn’t want that," Geto chuckles. "It’s important to care for your body. Especially if you are dancing for royalty.” He winks across the room at Zuko. “And since my brother adores your dancing so.”
“Shut up, Geto,” he growls. “I do not!” You turn towards the younger brother, a pit in your stomach at his words. “You don’t?” you ask, cocking your head at him. Zuko realizes his mistake and quick tries to backtrack, his cheeks hot with a flush. “N-No, I meant…I didn’t mean—“
Geto tosses his head back and laughs, the sound oh-so attractive and pulling a smile out of you. “A catch, isn’t he? He can lead the Fire Nation Army into attack on the frontlines, but he can’t even form a sentence in front of a pretty woman.”
Zuko snarls, teeth bared, gleaming in the twilight. “You’re testing me, brother. I’m about this close to throwing a fire ball at your head.” Geto mockingly gasps, putting a dramatic hand to his broad chest. “And scare the lady? How else will you find yourself a mate?”
You quickly try to stamp out the fire quickly growing between the brothers. “I am used to violence, I assure you both. And this is quite tame for me.” You turn to Zuko with an inviting smile, knowing that he is the shyer, quieter one. “Will you join us, Your Highness?”
Zuko looks surprised at the offer, his brows raising slightly. He shoots a look at Geto who nods, smirking quietly at his younger brother. “Just as long as my brother knows to keep his words wise and his brain intact," he grumbles. Geto chuckles as Zuko rises, barefoot and quiet as he strides over to join you at the table.
He sits with Geto on his knees across from you, pouring himself some more tea. Geto passes Zuko the pipe to which the young prince gags at, putting it aside on the table. “Come; let us toast." Geto raises his glass of fireflower juice high, his eyes shining. "To a night of wonders and surprises.”
“Cheers," you giggle, clinking your goblet with the brothers before taking a sip of your crisp wine. The sliver of afternoon sun has vanished now and the moon has taken the sun's place, leaving the room shining in a white glow. “Did you enjoy tonight’s festivities, Y/N?” Geto asks, his voice soft as silk. It makes you shudder in pleasure. “As much as I could. It’s hard to do much when you’re being ordered to be on your feet for most of the night.”
The older brother chuckles, taking another puff of his pipe as Zuko silently sips his tea. “Well, here you will not have that. I’m sure your feet must be sore.” You think you see both brothers' eyes flicker down to your soft feet and French-tipped toes, manicured and pretty, but you pass it off as a trick of the moonlight.
“No, you misunderstand. I do not hark on sore feet. It comes with my work and I would not give up being a dancer for anything.” You mean the words to the bottom of your heart, but Geto chuckles, thinking it is a joke. “For the money, I’m sure.” You smile, humoring him. “The pay is just the tip of the iceberg for me. I only wish to entertain others with my body. To dance is my—“
“Passion,” Zuko finishes, surprising you and Geto with his voice. “That’s rare.” Geto agrees, his gaze softening. “Mm. Quite rare. Very admirable. And quite sweet of you.”
You shiver at the brothers' praise, feeling a flood of endorphins that you've never felt from any compliment before. For a few minutes, you sip your wine in silence, letting the alcohol take over. “How did I make you feel?” you boldly ask. “When I danced?” The brothers look surprised at the random question at first, but Geto answers nonetheless. “Enchanted. Like you were putting me under a spell that I didn’t want to escape."
His violet eyes capture you between the wisps of smoke billowing from his lush lips. You force yourself to focus on his face instead. "You flatter me, sir," you giggle. Then you turn to Zuko who is silent, unmoving. "What about you, Your Highness? Did I please you as much as your brother with my moves?"
You didn't mean for it to sound so suggestive, and Zuko catches on, his cheeks growing red. "Does it matter that much to you?" he asks, not unkindly but just confused.
You nod, keeping your kind, welcoming smile. "Of course! If I'm hired to dance for the Fire Nation's princes and their court, it's my duty to entertain and please." Again: very suggestive. Perhaps you're throwing down the hammer a little too hard, but the brothers' quiet seduction and mingling scents of floral (Zuko) and cloves (Geto) is driving you to the brink of insanity.
"Oh, he was entertained," Geto smirkingly replies, sliding a suggestive look at Zuko. "And very pleased. Weren't you, brother?" Zuko elbows his brother in the side, earning a choked chuckle in response. But realizing you're waiting for an answer, he gulps and regains composure. "You were...very nice," he mildly replies into his tea cup. "I have seen belly dancing before, but not the way you do it. Where did you learn?"
You smile and explain to him about your home and culture. You tell them that you learned from your grandmother who taught your mother and older sister. You tell them that belly dancing is considered an important dance within your culture, using your body to make art. The two listen intently, making you feel shy despite dancing for a living.
"You flatter me too, Your Highness," you chuckle, staring through your lashes at Zuko. "Your kindness is a gift and to dance for you is an honor." Zuko blushes hot red at your sweetness, averting his gaze. "The pleasure is all ours," Geto replies with a twinkle in his eye. "Though we are leaving one thing out as to why you're here."
You sip more wine, letting the buzzing, warm feeling grow. "Oh? What is that?" Geto gives Zuko a knowing look, but the younger brother ignores him, instead pouring more tea. Your heart pounds and the heat you felt growing intensifies, making the room feel tense.
"Forgive us for coming off as nothing more than dogs, but I'm afraid we loved your dancing so much that we preferred to have it in private." Geto pauses, puffing on his pipe, sizing you up with his eyes.
You ignore the way your body sizzles at his confession. You were hoping you were here for that reason...among others. "You want me to dance for you?" you ask. "Right here?"
Geto sits back against the pillows, exposing a sliver of his abs to you. "If you wish. Though we commanded your presence, we want you to be comfortable here with us. That body is too perfect to be forced to do anything it doesn't wish to."
His words are made of saccharine and silk, making you buzz like you just drank a whole bottle of wine. Though Zuko doesn't say anything, his look, so intimate and personal, tells you everything. They truly mean what they say. If they wanted more from you, they would've taken it by now, you realize.
So you smile, letting your walls fall completely down. "Of course. I am at your service, Your Highnesses," you purr. "You have made me very comfortable without needing to, so who am I to refuse your command? However, I do not have any music."
"Geto can play guitar," Zuko replies. He snaps at his older brother, impatient. "Play something. Now." Geto only smiles, humored by his brother's flip switch in attitude. "Oooo, someone's desperate to see some more moves. Did you think the Firelord would be so demanding?"
"Yes, I did," you giggle as Geto rises to his feet, going to fetch his guitar. "But I am sure you both are to a degree. I would think the Firelords would be if you get your way all the time."
Geto returns with a small guitar and sits cross-legged at the table, placing it in his lap. "Oh, little dancer, we get our way all the time. And you will get yours if you continue to move the way you do." His seductive words cause a trail of heat to snake down to between your thighs, but you ignore it. Not yet.
"How will you have me, My Lords?" you purr, unable to keep the sex out of your voice. Geto elbows Zuko, letting him talk. The young prince's eyes bore into yours, intense and fiery. "Stand right there," he softly commands, nodding at the window. "In the moonlight."
You rise to your feet and slink over to the window, standing in the sliver of moonlight serving as your spotlight. Then the music begins, Geto's fingers stroking and strumming the guitar strings the way you picture him doing to your body. The music is soft with a bit of Indian scales added to it. "Dance for us, love," he encourages. "However you wish."
And so you dance. Under the silvery moon and the hot gazes of the princes, you wind your hips, flip your hair, and move your stomach so impressively like it's made of water. You twist, grind, and sway, letting the music control you. When the guitar strums get bolder and faster, you move with them, your movements more intense but still controlled.
The watchful eyes of your princes encourage you, pushing your aching muscles and winding hips to move faster until completion. You reach the same peak you would with an orgasm, feeling a tightness in your core that bursts until you're coating in explosive pleasure that makes you gasp. You hit a pose, raising your arms high as you face the princes, coating from head to toe in sweat.
Geto stops playing and applauds you while Zuko sits still as a statue, gobsmacked. "Beautiful," he murmurs. You smile at the praise, bowing. "Did that please you, My Lords?" you ask, out of breath and pumped full of arousal. You can feel your slick travel down between your thighs and you clamp them shut in an effort to hide the scent of your slick.
The aura in the room has shifted, leaving a tense feeling in the air that the brothers feel too. You can tell from how rigid they both sit as if trying to seem normal but miserably failing. Geto is the only one who comes clean, moving the guitar from his lap to reveal his bulge under his robe. "Yes, lovely...a little too much. I am sure you can see it."
His eyes slide over to Zuko and sure enough, the younger prince is sporting a hard cock under his slacks as well. "Oh," you sigh, your eyes glued to their bulges. "Your Highnesses..." You stare, unashamed and so unproper. And not caring one bite.
"F-Forgive me," Zuko stammers, covering his hard-on with a pillow as he madly blushes. "You can leave if you don't like this. I'm not usually like this." He looks ashamed and shy, averting his eyes from yours.
But you shake your head, mouth practically watering. "It's alright. You're just making me blush." And quite wet. You can't remember the last time your pussy has felt this tingly and open, waiting for some attention. Geto raises a brow at you, catching onto your game. "Oh? And why is that?" he asks, his voice much deeper than usual.
Zuko turns to you, his attention once again pulled back to you. You stare at both, unable to hide your want anymore. "Perhaps you're not the only one who's been enchanted," you whisper. "Maybe I'm feeling this fire too."
Silently, the two brothers share a look and finally, they rise to their feet. Zuko drops the pillow, revealing his bulge again, and is the first to make his way over to you. You feel wobbly and unsteady as he strides towards you, all muscle and discipline under his silk robe, standing a whole head taller than you.
But when he finally nears you, you are neither intimidated or frightened. If anything, you are oh-so aroused and attracted to his height and strength. He places his fists at his sides, his muscles tense, jaw working. "I want to touch you," he hoarsely confesses. "I want to...kiss you. Will you let me?"
He dares to finally touch you, placing his hand in yours. You swallow hard as his long fingers lace through yours, just as Geto comes up behind you. It is sudden and silent, making for a great sneak attack. All you feel is his dick pressing into your backside, hard and hot, making your brain muddy. You turn to Zuko with an answer on your tongue, your pussy throbbing impatiently. "I—Oh!" you gasp before your face is being forced to turn to the side and Geto's lips are on yours, his fingers on your cheek.
Prince Geto kisses like a dream. A wet dream, that is. His lips are soft and spiked from the fireflower juice, but they are also wet and supple, his tongue sliding across yours. You kiss him back, your lips moving together in a heated dance, soft moans traveling between you. Zuko watches, enraged. "Hey, asshole! You said we were sharing her, remember?"
Geto chuckles against your lips, pulling away with a hooded look your way. "Sorry, brother, but you were too slow. I couldn't wait to have these lips any longer." His thumb gently massages your bottom lip, nearly sending you through the ceiling."That kiss was meant for your brother, Your Highness," you giggle. "Although that was quite a kiss."
Geto smiles pridefully, his hands finding your hips. "What can I say? I aim to please, little one." He leans in to steal another, but Zuko beats him to it, turning your chin to face him. "I kiss way better," he mutters before he sweeps your lips up in a kiss. He is no longer the shy, stoic man you met earlier; now, the man in his place is bold and unabashed as he kisses you down, making you melt beneath his lips.
Geto watches his brother kiss you as he sandwiches you between himself and Zuko, hard muscle pressed against soft curves. "Mmm, you feel so fucking good," he groans, his hands caressing your curves. "For so long, we've watched you. Craved you. Just wanted to keep you to myself."
Zuko eyes him from over your head as he pulls away from kissing you, your taste on his lips. "Don't get ahead of yourself, brother. You're in MY room." You smile at their little rivalry, placing a hand on both of their broad chests. "You may keep me," you giggle. "We have tonight, don't we?" Geto looks surprised at your agreement, thoughtfully stroking your sides. "Is that because you want us to? Or because you want to please us? Be honest, little dancer."
His big hand cups your chin as he kisses you once more, the scent of tobacco wafting off of him in intoxicating waves. Zuko peppers your neck in kisses, overstimulating you in the best way possible to the point where you're gasping and panting for air when his older brother pulls away. "I want it too," you confess.
How can you not? Every kiss, touch, and word from the brothers are like the strongest hits of a drug. You crave more of them, selfishly. You want to be the one who says that you danced and had a night of endless sex with the Firelord brothers, pleasing them with your body in every way possible.
Zuko smiles against your neck and Geto gives you a devastatingly pretty grin, overjoyed at your confession. He takes your hands and presses his lips to your knuckles, making your stomach flip. "Then lay down and let us explore you. Pleasing you will please us."
And you believe him. Plus, the idea of the Firelord brothers being two givers and pleasers is something you definitely want to explore more of. Two handsome princes who would like to please YOU, a homely dancer girl, because it gets them off? You'd be an idiot to refuse this!
Zuko anchors your attention back to him with his soft lips and nimble fingers caressing your body, running up and down your stomach. "Will you let us touch you?" he murmurs, a plea in his tone. You grasp one of his hands, clamping it tightly against your body, not wanting him to let go. "Yes," you whisper. "Please touch me."
You twist around to kiss the younger prince, his surprised moans swallowed by your wine-spiked tongue. Geto chuckles, taking a handful of your ass in his big, calloused hands. "Such sweet begging. And such a sweet body too." Together, the brothers share your body, their hands indulging in your curves the way you have only dreamed of. You usually swallow back cringes whenever a man touches you, but them? It's nothing but shivers and sensations that make you want to melt. "Oh," you sigh, unable to utter anything but mere words.
As Zuko busies himself kissing your neck and breasts (without taking off your top, of course, because he's a gentleman), Geto manages to slip some of your skirt down to expose your hip dips and the curve of your spine. "A-Ah," you moan, your hips bucking into Zuko as Geto kisses down your stomach, his fingers playing with your hips and gliding down your sides to your thighs.
He stares up at you and the way your back curves as your head tilts back, your hair cascading down like a sweet-smelling river. "You like that, pretty?" he teases. "You want me to go lower?" His hand slides under your skirt and you gasp when you feel his thick fingers caress you between your thighs, right over your damp panties. Arousal explodes like a firework inside of you and you can no longer bear the foreplay anymore.
"Yes, please," you whisper. Your voice is soft and breathless; needy. Just what the royal brothers want. Together, they kneel and pull up your skirt, exposing your thong and bare thighs underneath. They groan at the sight of your asscheeks looking so plump wedged between the tight thong. "Oh, fuck," Zuko softly moans, just above a shudder.
"Goddamn!" Geto gasps, staring mesmerized at the slick dripping down your thighs. "Look at how wet she is, brother. All for me." His tongue juts out to lick your inner thigh, giving you a taste of the cool metal of his tongue piercing. Zuko's eyes cut over to his brother, sharp and irritated. "You mean all for us. Don't play with me right now, Suguru."
Geto smirks, gently suckling on your thigh just to hear you moan. "My bad, brother. It's just so much fun teasing you. We will share this sweet pussy of hers and make her cum her brains out." He stares up at you, eyes twinkling. "That sound good to you, little one?"
So inviting. So considerate. So in tune with your body and your pleasure. Nothing has ever sounded better. So you lay down among the soft, luxurious pillows and allow the brothers to split your thighs open beneath your skirt, groaning at the sight of your lace thong so soaked through the fabric to the point where you are dripping wet.
Geto dares to pull the tiny article of fabric down your legs, exposing your pussy, puffy with arousal and glistening with your nectar. Some of it coats your inner thighs and the slit of your asshole, making you bite your lip as the summer breeze hits your sensitive pussy lips. "Ooo, look at her, brother," Geto murmurs, mesmerized by your slick. "So much here for us to share. We must indulge and—"
"I go first," Zuko cuts in before diving face first into your pussy. You gasp, your hand instantly grasping his long black locks as his soft lips mash with yours between your soft thighs, toned from years of dancing. "Oh!" you gasp, eyes bugging at the pleasure. "M-My Lord, that's s-so good! Oh, fuck yes!"
Zuko is quite a wonder at eating pussy. He does it as if he loves it, moaning as his tongue sends lightning strikes across your clit. Geto watches on, knelt beside his brother with a disapproving frown. "So much for sharing," he mutters. "Don't I get a little taste?"
Zuko looks irked by the mere thought of sharing you, but still, he scoots over an inch to allow some space for Geto. "Fine, but just stay out of my way." Then he goes right back to slipping his tongue between your sticky, wet pussy lips, drawing moans from deep in your chest out of you.
Geto smirks, peppering your right inner thigh in wet kisses, his fingers pressing into the muscle as he spreads it away from your pussy. "You're just worried that I'll make her cum before you do. Don't you know pierced tongues do it better?"
Moments later, you are writhing, bucking, and twisting like you're experiencing an exorcism on the princes' pillows and in their hands clamped tight on your thighs and under your ass as their tongues slash and skate hungrily along your pussy. Their tongues slash along your slit, alternating between your dripping hole and your clit buzzing with pleasure and all kinds of sensations.
When Zuko slides his tongue inside of you, Geto sucks your clit, moaning as he does so. They totally devour you whole, the lewd sounds of their fat, wet tongues swirling between your thighs. Their faces are pressed flush against each other, cheek to cheek, as they give you two tongues to lose your mind over...and you do. "Oh, fuck!" you cry out, gripping the pillows beneath you. "God, My Lords, yes! More please! Don't stop!"
Geto pulls away from your clit to smile, his violet eyes drinking in the way you massage your tits and tweak your nipples over your top. "You hear that, brother? She loves my mouth on that pretty clit."
Zuko growls as he pulls his tongue out of your pussy, the muscle sticking with your juices. "You sure that isn't because my tongue is deep inside of her?" So the brothers turn to you, expecting the truth."Tell me, little one: do you like my tongue or my brother's?" Geto asks in his silky voice as he rips your top down, exposing both of your precious, full tits to them.
"Both," you moan, surprised you can even speak. "Both of you are making me feel so good!" The brothers smile, satisfied with your answer. "Mmm, nice answer, baby," Geto hums. "Perhaps you'd like this tongue a bit lower?"
And then his fat, pierced, royal tongue is sliding down between your asscheeks, licking and sucking greedily at the tiny hole. Zuko begins to suck and lick on your clit now, humming as he takes the tiny rosebud into his mouth and does wonders to it, his mouth made of magic.
"Oh, my God!" you groan, your fingers lacing through their long, silky locks. Your back arches off of the floor, your body totally at their mercy. The vibrations of Geto's chuckle in your ass make you shudder, every sensation like a tidal wave of pleasure. "Mmm, naughty girl. Getting wetter from my tongue in your pretty little hole," he murmurs.
So he can feel it. You noticed a brief few minutes ago after Geto started eating your ass that your pussy has gotten significantly wetter, and not just because of Zuko's eager tongue. You are gushing like a waterfall, sending your honey dripping into the mouths of the younger prince. "Fuck, I think she's close!" Zuko groans, feeling your pussy tightening around his tongue now.
If he didn't feel that, you're sure he would've suspected by how loud you've gotten. Your moans and whimpers can't be contained anymore, bouncing off of his bedroom walls. "You're gonna cum for me now, sweetness?" Geto huskily asks, using his two fingers to gently rub at your asshole, making you damn near cream on yourself.
Zuko snarls into your pussy, anger radiating through his muscles flexing underneath his robe. "No, she's gonna cum for me," he growls. "Stop distracting her."
"I'm gonna cum for you both!" you desperately moan, grasping at their silky locks of hair, pushing them deeper into your holes, as far as they can possibly go. "Please, please make me cum, my Lords! Don't stop!" Zuko mumbles nonsense into your pussy while Geto laughs, speaking through wicked flicks of his tongue against your ass. "Never, little one. Just cum for us. Let go. We've got you now."
And like a puppet on a string, pulled by the princes' wicked and convincing tongue strokes, you let out a loud whine as you cum all over their faces. You soak their smoothly-shaven cheeks and chins as you cream, flooding their mouths with your nectar straight from the source of your sweet-like-sugar pussy. They share groans of satisfaction and need as they slurp up your essence, making you cry out and whine as your pussy throbs and tingles with every agonizing stroke of their tongues.
When you finally come down from your high, a smile stretches across your face, matching the one sliding along the princes' lips. "Mmm-hmm," Zuko hums as he pecks your tummy, making you twitch. His fingers glide along your sweat-soaked skin, slightly warmed by his fire abilities. "Mmm, good girl," Geto praises you, giving your ass a squeeze. "How was that?"
You are more than happy to let him know: "Like heaven. Thank you, My Lords." You sit up from your fort of pillows, want racing through your veins as you gaze at the handsome men before you. "Now I must please you both as well."
The princes must feel the fire radiating from your molten gaze because they don't hesitate giving you what you want. They each stand, racing each other to see who can do it the fastest. "Let's get her on the bed," Zuko requests. "I don't want her on the floor doing this."
You grin when he offers you a hand to help you stand. "How sweet of you, My Lord," you hum, taking his hand in yours, but even as you stand, your legs feel like jelly. Luckily, you have a certain young prince to help you. Surprising both himself, Geto, and you, he scoops you up into his arms and carries you over to his bed. "Oh!" you giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck.
Geto watches sourly, following behind. "Show-off," he scoffs. Zuko gives him a wink, pleased with himself. "Don't look so upset, brother. I'm just playing your own game is all...and winning."
Your giggles continue as Zuko swiftly walks over to the bed and gently places you down on the satin sheets, soft to the touch. The two princes stand at the foot of the bed, looking over your curves like you're a dessert plate. "So what are you waiting for, brother?" Geto asks, slyly smirking at Zuko. "Get udnressed and drop your pants...unless you're too afraid to get shown up by me."
As you laze about on the sheets, biting your lip in anticipation, you watch the Firelords disrobe for you. Your eyes are drawn to their fingers as they untie their robes while their eyes are locked soley on your beautiful face and body. Your arousal practically explodes and spills over when they expose their toned bodies to you, every part of them carved with muscle, their lower stomaches adorned in patches of fine black hair.
When their pants are finally off, you come face to face with what you've dreaming about for ages. Their dicks are just as beautiful as you pictured them being—different in size and shape, one thicker than the other, the other curving upward, but both throbbing, rock hard, and ready for you.
Geto raises a teasing brow down at you and your dreamy expression. "Well? You wanted to suck some royal dicks, right? Here you are now, little dancer." He wraps a hand around himself, gently pumping from base to tip. "Take them, little one, but you must do your very best for us, okay?"
Zuko flushes as you sit up in front of them, flashing him your naked tits, much to his dick's enjoyment. "Of course, Your Highness," you purr. "I would give you nothing less." You begin slow, using some body oil on the bedside table next to you to pour onto their hard dicks and into your palms, making both slick and shiny.
Then it's strictly about pleasing the two princes. Stroking, pumping, and sucking. Your pussy gushes at each deep moan, gasp, and swear that escapes the princes' lips as you alternate between sucking and stroking them. Geto throws his long hair back and moans in ecstasy as you pump him with your mouth, your lush, wet lips sliding up and down his shaft.
"Ah, fuck," he sighs, his handsome face contorted in pleasure. "God, that's fucking good." His big hand tangles in your hair, holding you firm, while Zuko watches in awe as your dainty hand strokes his dick in tandem. "Her hand feels good t-too," he stammers. You pull away from Geto's cock, strands of spit connecting his cockhead to your bottom lip.
"It feels good, my Prince?" you purr, staring at Zuko through your lashes. "Would you like my mouth as well?" Zuko can't even speak; he can only jerkingly nod as his cock twitches in your palm. You smile and wrap your mouth around him next, sliding him deep into your throat and against your tongue. Zuko's eyes widen at the new sensations, his mouth agape as your tight, wet throat closes around him and slides up and down his shaft.
"Oh, fuck!" he moans, clenching his fists at his sides as you bob up and down his dick, moaning in enjoyment. Geto watches on through hooded eyes, fucking your hand slick with oil.
You continue to work Zuko's dick in your throat, hollowing your cheeks and staring into his eyes. When you need to breathe, you slide him out of your throat only to suck and lick on his tip, earning a desperate hiss through his teeth. "Y-You...oh, fuck, how do you do that with your tongue?"
"This?" you ask before you push the brothers' cocks together and lick both of their tips at the same time, earning wanton groans in response. You continue to alternate between them, giving them as much tender, love, and care as possible, causing your own spit to pool down your chin and soak your tits.
But Geto soon takes initiative, your mouth too much for him, and grips your hair as he pushes himself deep down your throat. You gag in surprise, but you don't dare push him away, letting him use your throat for his pleasure. "Deeper," he grunts. "Come on now, love, don't give up. Take that fucking dick."
His moans are aphrodiasics to you as he fucks your mouth, his balls gently slapping against your chin. Black strands of hair hang in his handsome face, his composure lost as he thrusts deeper and deeper, filling your throat up with his cock. Zuko practically melts at the lewd sight, his cock growing bigger and thicker as he watches your mouth stretch around his brother's dick.
Geto notices and smiles, pulling out with a groan to tap his dick against your tongue. "You wanna try, brother?" he pants. "Just fuck her throat nice and deep. Make her take it." After some coaching, Zuko swallows hard and slides himself inside of your mouth.
Obediently, you take his slow, deep thrusts as he gets used to your throat closing around him, causing more spit to drip down your chin, making you look like a professional cock slut. The moans that Zuko lets out are choked and wanton, traveling straight to your soaked pussy. You can't help but play with yourself as Zuko fucks your throat, using it as he would a fleshlight.
Geto notices your fingers working between your thighs and smiles, raising his brows. "Oooo, someone's being quite naughty," he chuckles. "I suspect you need to be treated kindly down here again, sweetness?" Slowly, he switches places and climbs onto the bed behind you, placing his big hands on your hips. You feel his cock nudge your pussy lips apart, allowing your wetness to drench his tip.
"You want this dick now, darling? Can you take me and my brother at the same time?" Zuko groans as he slips out of your throat, allowing you to speak, which you eventually do once your moaning over Geto's cock rubbing against your pussy stops. "Yes!" you gasp. "Please fuck me, Suguru! I need y—"
You can't finish because he's already sliding in, filling you to the brim with dick. Your mouth falls agape as you're stretched open on his thick dick, expanding on every sensation you've ever felt. "S-Sorry, love, but your begging was just too damn cute," the older prince stammers, biting his lush bottom lip as you squeeze him tight. "Y-you—oh, fuck—feel so fucking good."
Zuko watches you bounce against his brother's dick buried deep inside of you, your tits swaying enticingly back and forth. "Don't tire her out. I still need to fuck her too." Geto chuckles, moving his fingers down to rub your clit in time with his breathtaking thrusts. "Sure...if she doesn't cum too hard. I'm known for doing that to women."
An irritated growl escapes Zuko as he slides his cock in your mouth again, keeping his thrusts a bit slower and lighter to not overwhelm you. How sweet of him. "Just fuck her and shut up," he growls. "I'll show you that I can do just as good of a job." Geto raises an interested brow, his smirk wicked and sly. "Oh, can you now? I'll hold you to that, little brother."
And then together, the two fuck you off of their cocks, pushing and pulling you back and forth. It is like some erotic seesaw, the rhythm building the more they fuck your dripping holes. Zuko's resolve drops with every thrust of his dick down your tight throat and ripple of your ass bouncing back against Geto's cock. "That's it," he grunts. "You suck me so well, baby. So fucking good!"
The way you squeal and moan around Zuko's cock makes Geto fuck you a little faster, placing a foot on the bed. It drives him deeper inside of you, to the point where you damn near feel him in your tummy. "Yeah? You like sucking my brother's fat dick while I fuck you with mine?" he pants. "That pussy certainly seems to."
Your pussy concurs, dripping over his fingers as he rubs your clit in time with his thrusts. You feel his eyes roll over your curves, drinking in the way sweat rolls off of your blessed body. "Fuck yes," he hisses. "How is this body so amazing, hm?" He begins to harshly palm your ass, indulging in the way your soft asscheeks ripple and bounce in time with his thrusts. Your body tingles at his touch, needing more. "Spank me!" you whimper.
"Seriously?" Zuko asks, surprised by such a request. But Geto is grinning like a kid on Christmas. "Oh, I'm gonna have some fun with you, little one." He then raises his palm and swats your ass repeatedly, the harsh sounds of his hand coming down on your ass exploding against the bedroom walls.
SPANK! SPANK! SPANK!
The assault on your ass combined with Geto's mind-melting thrusts is too much and soon, you feel your second orgasm cresting like a full moon. "M'gonna cum!" you moan around Zuko's cock. "Please harder, My Lord! Fuck me faster!" Geto's groan is fit for a porno, filled with need and desperation. "Of course, cutie. Anything you want."
So he thrusts harder, faster, his balls slapping against your clit. Sparks of pleasure explode through your body as you bounce back against his dick, practically fucking yourself as he pounds into you, taking and giving at the same time. "Such cute begging. Such a sweetheart," he grunts. He leans forward, capturing your tits in both of his big palms. "Gonna make me fucking cum. Make me breed you."
The idea of being bred by one of the princes–or both–turns you on more than you care to admit. You can only moan around Zuko's throbbing dick as Geto fucks your pussy like he owns it, chasing his orgasm. "M'gonna cum!" he groans. "You ready, little one? Ready to take this load?"
"Mmm-hmm!" you moan around Zuko's dick twitching in your throat. You don't get a chance to prepare before a hot rush of cum is flooding your insides, followed by a loud groan from Geto as he empties himself inside of you. You quickly cum as well, shuddering and shaking as your orgasm takes you on a journey through the stars and beyond.
Zuko watches as your eyes roll back with his cock still stuffed in your mouth, your orgasm taking complete control in addition to the hot gush of spunk that Geto gives you. It seems to last forever until Geto's grip on your tits eases and his thrusts grow sloppy until they finally slow.
He sighs as he slooooowly slides out of you, groaning at the gush of cum that manages to escape your pussy. You slide your mouth off of Zuko's cock and collapse between them, totally spent and breathless. Geto smirks at Zuko, cocky and proud of his work. "Told you she'd tap out," he chuckles. Gently, he strokes your ass, leaning down to check on you. "Tuckered out, little dancer? Or can you take more?"
More. Yes. Your body reacts immediately, igniting with need like a wildfire. You slowly sit up on your knees, staring into the worried gaze of Prince Zuko. "Do you wish to continue? We can stop if you—oh, fuck!"
He doesn't get a chance to finish because of your vicious sucking again, swallowing him whole and giving him a few pumps of your throat that make his toes curl. You pull away, lips coated in spit and pre-cum, bating your lashes at him. "Please fuck me, my Lord," you whimper. "I need to make you feel good too."
Zuko stares, blushing and intensely aroused, while Geto smirks at the sight. "You heard the girl. So you gonna show me up or what?" As if a switch flips, Zuko's shy demeanor vanishes, replaced with someone so determined to please you. "I want her on her back," he requests above a growl. "I want her to look at me when I make her cum."
His lewd words sound like a promise to your ears, fierce and impassioned, making your stomach flip with anticipation for what will come next...and hopefully cum next too.
Moments later, you're taken to euphoria again when Zuko is fucking you in missionary, hips slamming against yours as you lay back against Geto's broad chest. He holds your legs open for his brother, watching as Zuko fucks your pussy into his bed. The lewd noises of his dick sloshing and squelching in your wet pussy drifts through the air, mixing with your loud moans and his groans of pleasure.
There is a symphony of sex swimming in the air, uninterrupted or silenced, only growing more intense the deeper and faster Zuko fucks you. "Oh, my God, yes!" you wail against the bedsprings creaking. "That's so good, Zuko, fuck!"
The younger prince smiles, black strands of his hair cascading over his broad shoulders and face glistening in beads of sweat glistening in the moonlight. "Yeah? Better than my brother, right?" Geto glares from behind you, teasing your hard nipples as his brother continues to pound you into the mattress. "Watch it. I could snatch that pussy away from you easily."
Zuko breathlessly chuckles, his cock somehow twitching in your pussy at the prospect of such a challenge. "Doesn't seem like she'd like that," he grunts. "She—oooo, fuck, she's squeezing around me so tight!" He pauses to spit on your pussy, a drop of saliva dripping from his mouth to drench your puffy, sticky pussy lips.
You can only gasp as he slides in again, deeper, making you take every thick inch of him. Your eyes roll back and your mouth falls slack on desperate, loud moans and gasps as he draws himself inside of you, trapping you between himself and his brother. "I want to devour you, little dancer," he groans. "Wanna keep you here and make you mine over and over again."
He leans down to press himself against you, using his arms to hold himself up, encasing you in a prison of muscle that you don't want to escape. He presses his forehead against yours, staring deep into the very loins of your soul as he fucks you deep. "Would you like that?" he whispers.
You only whine in response, unable to formulate proper words. Geto laces a hand around your throat, squeezing. "Answer my brother, pretty girl. You wanna stay here and let my brother fuck you until you cum over and over again?" Zuko goes harder. Faster. Pistoning that dick inside of you and forcing you to answer. "Yes!" you wail. "Both of you! I want both of you, please!"
Geto's chest rumbles as he softly laughs, wrapping those big arms around you to hold you close as Zuko pins your thighs apart to fuck you in semi-mating press. "Then cum for me," Zuko grunts. "Give me all of that honey, baby, please. I need it. Please, please, please."
His begging is a straight drug lacing through your veins, getting closer and closer to yet another intense orgasm. Geto kisses down your neck as he squeezes you tight, anchoring you down before you float off as your orgasm crests. "Give it to him now, darling," he whispers. "Cum for him. Cum for us again."
It doesn't take long—not with the way Zuko is desperately moaning above you as he chases his orgasm head on, his cock sliding against your slick, wet pussy walls until he can't take much more. "Fuck, I'm cumming!" he gasps. "I-I can't...stop! Gonna fill you up!"
Plap, plap, plap goes his hips against your thighs as his thrusts grow faster and faster until finally—
"Fuck!" you both gasp in unison as Zuko floods your insides with his cum and you drench him in your cream, finally released from your bottle of self control. Your body would definitely be levitating if it isn't for Geto's beefy arms snaking around you, holding you close and holding you down, forcing you to take his brother's load deep inside of you.
Your eyes roll back and your body twitches as you cum, cum, and cum, drenching Zuko's cock and balls in your honey. He groans as he fills you, his dick twitching inside of you as the last of his spurts of spunk escape him and enter you, breeding you the same as his brother did moments before.
Finally spent, Zuko slowly pulls out of you, collapsing onto his back, his muscular body slick with sweat illuminated by the moonlight. For a while, there is only comfortable silence spiked with the afterglow of sex. "That was amazing," you finally sigh, delirious.
"Mmm-hmm," Geto hums in agreement. "Except..." He grips your chin and squeezes it tight, forcing you to look back at him. His violet eyes are firm yet fiery, making your stomach flip with excitement. "What do you say?" he asks, his tone dripping with authority.
You aren't sure what he means at first, your brain still mushy from your three orgasms. But then you realize it when Zuko snuggles up to your side and kisses your cheek. "Thank you, my princes," you whisper. Geto smiles and pecks your lips, satisfied. "You're very welcome, little one. Now let's get you cleaned up."
You thought tonight couldn't get any better, but that's before Geto carries you off to Zuko's large bathchambers and runs some hot water in a stone pool for you. Zuko adds some kind of liquid that has an herbal scent to the water, turning it a slight teal color and creating bubbles. The brothers get into the steaming water first before offering you their hands. "Careful now," Geto murmurs. "Gently. The water isn't going anywhere."
You take their hands and slowly step into the pool, hissing at the heat at first. But soon, the water soothes your tired muscles and you melt into the bubbles. Zuko pulls you towards him, letting you lean back against his broad chest while you face Geto, your feet on his beating heart. "Good?" Zuko asks.
"Yes," you sigh, content. "I am the envy of all women right now." Geto smiles, gently kissing both of your feet as you relax further into the water. "And we are the envy of all men. You made us feel so good tonight, love."
The praise fuels you the way the herbal-scented water does, making you feel brand new. In this little world with the three of you, surrounded by nothing but the bubbles and water, you feel like nothing and no one matters. Just tonight. Just this moment of bliss.
So you lean against Zuko's chest and hum with contentment, smiling when he tangles his fingers in your wet hair, allowing yourself to fall completely and totally in the little sanctuary your princes have built...even if it's just for tonight.
"The only question is whose dick made you cum more?" Geto asks. "Mine or my brother's?"
SPLASH!
Geto suddenly gets a mouthful of soapy water flung at him by his brother while you giggle profusely. "Get the fuck out, Geto," Zuko growls. "Or I'll drown you."
Yandere!Dethroned Prince x Healer!Reader— violence toward others to protect your honor, marking, biting, possessiveness, fingering, sex, edging, rough worshipful sex, bondage (wrappings), brief brat taming, body worship, multiple orgasms, marathon sex, aftercare.
The fortress kept deep in the mountain villages, so usually busy with hundreds of royal servants, was otherwise currently empty. Yandere!Dethroned Prince kept it as such during the days you would come to treat him as the old palace healer.
Everyone knew how that wound over his chest came to be, but there was something intimate about having you nurse him back to health in a way that he refused to let another witness.
The whole matter had been quite a messy affair. As heir to the throne you try to take one spouse and suddenly the whole court is in a tizzy. Sure, said spouse was not another royal, but rather you, a lowly doctor for the palace.
And of course, when his advisors merely suggested he make you a concubine instead, he ruthlessly slaughtered them all and lined their heads on spikes across every brothel in the kingdom.
But that was hardly grounds enough to throw him as heir. Yet his father had. Aided by the manipulating whispers of the clergy who insisted this was a bad omen and that his reign would only bring devastation.
Suddenly, he was being cut down with a slash of a sword and shipped off to where his bad fortune could not hurt the crown. Along with all the servants they could spare, and most importantly with you, the other half of who brought upon this bad luck.
At first Yan!Dethroned Prince was convinced this was a bad thing. Half detailed plans for a hostile takeover littered his desk for months. You were his love, the object of all his desires, even if you’ve hesitated to give into them.
You deserved to be his queen and nothing less would do. But you were much more tenderhearted than he. When you found his plans you nearly threatened to leave and he would never see you again if he did not cease in the takeover.
While he thought it rather funny you believed he would ever allow such a thing, he decided to placate you. If you were happy then he too would be happy. Even if he typically knew better when it came to what you deserve in life. The more time he spent in his new isolated fortress the more he was seeing its benefits.
His father had practically sent him away to live happily ever after with the person he longed to make his spouse. He had you all to himself here. No longer did he have to hide his affections or ignore his need for you in order to avoid scandal. Now all he needed you to do was fall in his arms. Yet you were as obsessive about your work as he was about you.
That’s what gave him the best idea he’s had since his whole takeover plot went awry. Now every time you come in his chambers to change the wrappings on his wounds he has the entire staff leave fortress grounds. All so that he can have you to himself and lower your guard enough to finally give in and accept you can be together now.
The sound of your arrival in his chambers was as sweet as always, the sharp clink of the lock and the creaking of wood. His eyes snap over to you and he sags in relief the moment you come into view.
“Come, my love, and heal me with those magical hands of yours,” he purrs, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you onto his lap as soon as you get close enough. With a resigned sigh you allow him the pleasure, knowing by now that resistance is futile.
“You’ve sent everyone away again?” You ask as you quietly unpack your supplies. Promptly ignoring the way he starts kissing up and down your neck, leaving marks in their wake.
“It’s the only way I can get you alone, sweet flower. You never come to me unless I am injured,” he whines dramatically, his hands starts to wander down your frame, beneath your robes, and sneaking away between your thighs to tease at your sex.
A sharp gasp leaves you as your nerves are ignited under his touch. With shaking hands you try to continue your work of cleaning the wound.
“I am your healer—“ you insist.
“You are my everything. And you would’ve been my Queen if you had allowed it,” he interrupted, pinching your chin and guiding your eyes toward his, face bow inches apart.
This is a Patreon exclusive fic so you'll only be able to read it there! Check it out if you're interested in reading the entire fic and many more. I have a ton of other exclusive and early access fics that you can read there too!! Use the web for no fee prices!
Yandere!Dethroned Prince x Healer!Reader— violence toward others to protect your honor, marking, biting, possessiveness, fingering, oral sex
"these turned out even better than i thought they would, luffy."
"of course they did, you're in them!"
as always, he speaks sweetly and unabashedly, and it feels like the sun directly shining at you, but before you can finish blushing, he pauses, then chuckles as he pores even closer over the prints.
"you know, i thought you'd be upset i left my hat in our picture."
"silly, at this point, i don't think you'd be you without it."
you're still grinning for a moment, then add -
"the pirate king staple, of course."
luffy presses a kiss on your forehead, still grinning widely as he pulls away.
"just like the pirate queen's smile."
this comm has made my entire week and i'm so thankful @/kendymaycry took her time to bring sketched outfits from a year ago to life for my birthday. thank you for being so sweet to me and thanks always to @/marimo_fr on twitter for knowing exactly how to portray us with the sweetest of care!! go comm her if you haven't yet!
EDIT: dividers by @/saradika-graphics!
Synopsis: This anthology frames iconic fictional men in devotional context to you as the reader. What each character does to add more beauty to your life is something you must see for yourself.
Notes: anthology series (different character each chapter), afab/fem/black chubby reader.
Warnings: Angst (mental health issues, anxiety, depression, tears), fluff (physical affection, pet name usage, jokes will be cracked), smut (variety of sex positions, filthy dirty talk, kinks, etc). 18+ ONLY [MINORS/NO AGE IN BIO=DO NOT INTERACT]
Breaking the Surface (Sex Pollen Kishibe x f!Reader) MDNI
Due to dwindling devil hunter numbers, you accompany your former mentor, Kishibe, in a run of the mill Devil acquisition. Upon encountering the devil, you both begin to experience some...side effects.
wc: 12.9k Ao3 Masterlist
you can buy me a Ko.fi here, if you like!
Warnings: SEX POLLEN AND THEREFORE DUBIOUS CONSENT!!!! (if that is not your thing, please be on your way and we will see you in the next one, love you), enemies to fucking, mean Kishsibe, smoking, drinking, aphrodisiacs, age gap (like late 20s/30s and 50), kissing, spit, sex in an alley, blood (both Devil and Human, but not that much), hypnosis, sex marathon, doggy, missionary, sex marathon, cum, a lot of smell/scent stuff again.
What a joke.
The thought hung between the two of you, Kishibe in the driver’s seat, and you in the passenger, grumbling out the window. The disgruntled huff rattled in both of your skulls, throbbing against the increasing headache. Neither of you wanted to be here. Or rather, neither of you wanted YOU to be here. Makima bade you join him on what should be a simple execution with little to no complexity. Kishibe was the top of the top, with literally no need for backup taking down a middling level devil. You were perfectly capable, but not even really exceptional, but not a rookie who needed more demonstration either. But, instead of getting your own assignment or group to lead, you were stuck basically being the audience and late report filer for today’s excursion. Your day would consist of standing around, trying to stay out of the way, while he did all the real work, and you’d have the paperwork while he drunk himself stupid back at home. You sighed out, feeling the tension in your head building, the pencil callus on your middle finger already aching.
“How much further?” You huffed, glancing at the time, disheartened to find it was already approaching mid afternoon.
“Why, you got something better to do?” Kishibe’s eyes stay locked on the road before you.
“Better than watching you kill a devil barely half my threat level? Yeah, anything else.” You roll your eyes, squinting as the late morning sunlight peered over the drop down visor.
He didn’t respond, just carried on driving as if you hadn’t even spoken to him.
You roll your eyes again and remember Makima's instructions when you had complained, “You’ll go in as a team, numbers are slim right now so everyone pairs even if their ranks don’t align. No one goes alone.”
Public Safety was scrambling, for personnel, for intel, for quality hunters. Hours had become brutal, late nights bleeding into early mornings with barely time for a shower at home. The office floor was growing more barren every day. Chairs which had once been home to colleagues now sat empty, pushed into desks with dust collecting personal effects that would eventually be collected and trashed by the custodial crew. Everyone was on a razor edge, feeling the impending fate breathing down their necks. Irritability was at an all time high.
“—total bullshit.” You mumbled, shaking your head and pulling at the skin of your fingers.
“I didn’t remember you having such a shitty attitude before.” Kishibe took a smooth right turn.
“It’s been a long time since you were my teacher, Kishibe. A very long time. And I have a perfectly fine attitude, when my time isn’t being wasted.”
Kishibe grunted in response, taking another turn and stopping the car.
“Get out and fill the back right tire. It’s getting low.” He commanded, voice passive.
You looked around the windows realizing you had pulled into a gas station’s air pump. The dashboard didn't even have a tire pressure warning. Was he just trying to piss you off?
“It’s your car.” You settled into your seat further.
“You’re under my instruction.”
“What?” You rolled your neck to face him with lidded cold eyes, “ Your old knees can’t get that low anymore, maybe you ought to take a back seat on this one, huh?”
“So which is it, am I a decrepit old man who can’t do anything alone or am I too good to be wasting your precious time as my caddy?” He glared at you, watching your face contort in indignation, the squeak of your teeth grinding egging him on, “I’m just confused, your story’s inconsistent.”
“Fuck, fine!” You took off your seatbelt and got out, circling to the back of the driver’s side and unscrewing the valve cap and attaching the hose.
Air hissed rhythmically into the tire, which inflated itself. It was barely flat to begin with, he was just proving how easy it was for him to do whatever he wanted. He had always been an asshole, even beyond the time you had known him. Your months training under him were grueling. He pushed you hard, kicked your ass harder. But it was effective, you learned to take a hit, how to avoid taking said hit. For a while you found yourself admiring him. His power, his speed, his agility and experience. In your early days as a devil hunter, you had found yourself drawn to him. Wanting to know about whatever tragic backstory had scarred him, damaged him so that he became so callus, so vicious. Secretly wondering if you did well enough, or lingered long enough after hours if he would confide in you. Maybe he would even---- no. You didn't allow yourself to finish that thought, at least not often. He may be handsome and fit and strong, but he was mean and probably certifiable. He was one of those guys who was born an asshole and despite his heavily borrowed time, he would one day die an asshole.
The day was not starting well, at this rate it would be a miracle if you both held out long enough to actually face the devil. The pump began to beep, alerting you that the tire was full. You reset the machine for the next user and walked around the car and slipped back into your seat. Kishibe looked over at you boredly. You got your hand coated in whatever car road gunk, now turned them ashen and tried to brush off the bulk of it onto your pants, feeling the ickiness of it sink into your palms.
“Gonna get dirtier than that, you sure you're up for it?” Kishibe mocked your disgust, starting the car and looking just barely backwards to back out of the pumping station.
“I don’t remember you offering to get your hands dirty.”
Silence settled between the two of you. The drive continued, the car hummed, the radio was barely audible. Some You turned your attention back to your cuticles, allowing the sound of wind rushing past the cracked windows to fill the silence.
A dance pop song played on the radio, something about a woman begging her cab driver to get her to her booty call faster, before she changes her mind. Being desperate and touch starved was a feeling you knew well, especially as of late. The late nights had recently cost you your most recent in a string of casual lovers. One too ‘sorry, stuck at work.’ flake outs too many. You couldn’t blame them either, it wasn’t like you were all that present when you did manage to make it to your dates. Dating outside the company would always carry this barrier, between yourself and civilians. But dating within the walls of Public Safety carried all the traditional “don't shit where you eat” consequences, with a perfect cherry of “they, or you, will die horribly and leave the other to mourn” on top. You knew getting into Devil Hunting would make your life harder, potentially even shorter, but not getting laid? You’d rather be torn apart by the next devil you saw than forgo a good, consistent fuck. Or maybe you were just annoyed because your lover ex lover, as of late had dumped you, it meant you wouldn't be having sex this week, making this the fifth week in a row for you. Over a month of no sex. You can’t remember the last time you had gone without this long. The distraction of work kept your day-mind occupied, but when you’d return home, for however briefly, you found yourself starving for the touch of someone else. You were an effective partner for yourself, you knew your body well and particularly how to orgasm quickly and quietly, aiding your slip into sleep. But it wasn’t the same, you couldn’t lose yourself in the same way you could when you were with someone else. The way your mind would be consumed by the wholeness of the act; their movements, their body, the smell, the sight, the sounds. You’d find yourself stuck in your own head, barely rubbing out an orgasm before rolling over and falling asleep. It had been too long. Far too fucking long.
Even thinking about how much you craved sex began to make you wet. You felt the tug behind your navel, alerting your attention lower. You fidgeted in your seat, the sun in your eyes once again, the heating of your skin making your suit jacket feel restrictive and stuffy.
Kishibe noticed your wiggling. He watched out of the corner of his eye as you unbuttoned your jacket and tried to shrug it down your arms. Between the seatbelt and the cramped passenger side it was an awkward little dance that finally got it off you. He stayed focused on the road, praying the traffic would lighten so he wouldn’t be stuck in this ever heating box with you. You lay your jacket in your lap and adjust your seatbelt, not realizing how it found its place right across the center of your chest. Kishibe’s eyes didn’t even hesitate before peeking at the cleft between your breasts. Your shirt's fabric pulled tight, making the gaps between the buttons stretch, giving him the faintest glimpse at your skin underneath. A few rapid blinks cleared the image long enough for his eyes to turn his attention back to the road. He swallowed, tilting his neck to onside until it cracked.
He needed a cigarette, he needed his flask out of his coat pocket, he needed something to stimulate him. Something to consume his mind other than the growing, burning thoughts. It was just the nature of the assignment. It was infecting the air of the car, shaking you both with its humid imagination.
The Lust Devil. The Devil grown from the fear and shame of sexuality, ranging from infidelity, adultery, sexual violence, to personal repressive shame, etc. attraction and sexuality was a sensitive topic for nearly everyone alive, making its corresponding Devil powerful. Although, from the intel gathered by the information sector, its raw power wasn’t extensive. Its defensive power was harder to get an idea of, the previous reports that had been filed had been vague at the most helpful and fully redacted at the least. Hence why the top devil hunter was tasked with its capture. It had most recently been spotted in one of the shadier clubbing districts that Tokyo had to offer. Not a lot of tourists, nothing flashy, just a strip of bars, pachinko parlors, a few behind-the-false-wall establishments that were illegal, but documented. Likely favored by police or lawmakers in the area who could be bought out to turn the other way. Corruption was rife, making it the perfect breeding ground for devils. The sun was beginning to sink, the early afternoon was stretching, inching toward sunset. Finally Kishibe pulled the car into a car park six blocks from the suspected nest. He turned the key, plunging the car into silence. It felt suffocating, at least the awkwardness of the drive had been somewhat mitigated by the ambient car noise and the radio. You both hesitated for a moment before you moved to unbuckle your seatbelt. The click of the belt covered his sigh as he followed suit. You both exited the car and began to make your way out to the street.
The air had been sticky but an evening chill tingled the back of your neck, cooling your cheeks, which you realized had been burning. He reached into his breast pocket, retrieving his flask, unscrewing the cap. You rolled your eyes at his dependence, redressing yourself in your uniform jacket. He took a sip, your eyes crept over, watching the way his throat tightened. The stubble running down his neck was getting lighter, as was the scar from lip to ear. When you had met him, it had still been pink at its deepest points, the cross hatches where staples had once been were more pronounced, which now were faded and pale. You watched as his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed whatever vice he had stashed away in advance. When you looked back up to his face he was looking back at you. He extended the curved silver flask to you. You accepted, taking a sip, trying to ignore the thoughts about the stick of his lips still lingering on the spout. You took another quick one, letting what you now knew was whiskey scorch down your tongue and throat. It was harsh and spicy, scouring down through your chest, spreading its warmth, bringing you closer to your center. You let out a long breath and handed it back and continued walking silently.
The crowds hadn’t yet died down. Throngs of people bustling in and out of buildings, waiting for crosswalks, car horns, wind, the taste of the whiskey, your senses were sharpened by circumstance so it all washed over you. Ordinarily you would have found yourself pushing through crowds, but Kishibe, at his imposing height and build seemed to create space for the pair of you. The uniform helped, that black tie and jacking becoming symbolic for people to know to leave Devil Hunters to their work, not try and engage, and certainly to not get in the way. It wasn’t long before you reached the cross street of the last reported sighting. There was no guarantee the devil would still be there, or even in the area, but you would have to start somewhere. Your left thumb had been subconsciously clawing at the cuticle line of your ring finger, it wasn't until you felt the wetness on your fingertip that you realized you had broken the skin. You pulled your hand out of your pocket and watched the blood on your nail bed bead up until the surface tension broke, making it drip down your finger. It felt auspicious, something about it made your stomach twist. Trying to put it to the back of your mind, you wiped it across your pants and pressed forward.
Kishibe noticed your delay, and it pushed him over the precipice. The car ride, the attitude, the tire, was whatever, but you were in the field now, there wasn’t room for more of your bullshit. He gripped your arm, pulling you to the side further from the street, a hushed scold coloring his tone.
“You going to make it?” He scoffs.
“What?” You tried to tug your arm back, his strength making your attempt look foolish.
“You’re off your game.” He squeezed your arm harder “You can’t do anything if your mind isn’t here. Whatever problems you have with scheduling or pairing, just deal with it tomorrow. But I need you here.”
He was right, you had let too much of your external frustration seep into the task at hand. Letting your personal gripes influence work would get you killed, you had seen it first hand. Before you could tell him he was right, he spoke again.
“If it’s a problem with me, I don’t care what you think I did. I don’t care that you think is a demotion to work with me. I don’t care. I chose you because I trained you well, you have experience, and I trust you. But it isn’t your choice. You do the job you're given, got it?”
“You--” Your brows wrinkled, “you chose me?”
“And regretted it nearly immediately. What the fuck happened to you?” He bit.
“I--”, you were speechless, your callus complaining in the car ringing in your ears, the selfish indignation with which you had entered the mission, “I didn’t realize, I’m sorry.”
It was such a stupid thing to say, but it was all you had. The truth was you had missed working with him, but the stress of the job had become so overwhelming, and the years had stretched on with less and less contact, it became really easy to forget that he had been a good partner.
“Don’t apologize to me, just fucking tighten up.” He scoffed, releasing your arm and straightening his back, “Just do your job, don’t die, when we get back and I'll rescind my request.”
He started to turn to continue the walk but you reached out to stop him.
“Captain wait,” You started but a crash from the alley closest to you stopped you both in your tracks.
Stepping in time with one another you rushed to the opening of the alley, peeking around the edge of the bodega on one side and seeing nothing but shadow and the colors of sunset. Deep reds and oranges filtering over the tops of the dumpster, stretching back and back further. Two fire escapes were nearly touching about eight feet above your head. This alley didn't have a dead end, it looked to stretch at least a block and a half back, with two internal alleys stretching perpendicular about twenty feet back. It was a tight fit, but pretty standard. The time for discussion was over, you had to get to work.
Kishibe stepped into the alley first, his dark eyes sharp and locked on the intersection between internal alleyways. You stepped in behind him, taping off the exit, indicating to any wandering pedestrians that there was a possible gas leak. Why devil hunters needed such benign sounding rouses, was above your pay grade, but still never quite made sense. You followed behind him closely, but far enough back that you could see around his broad frame. For a man as big and tall as he was, his steps did not make a sound. You couldn’t even hear the rustle of his jacket as he pulled a twenty centimeter bowie knife from his chest holster, it seemed to just extend from his hand silently. You pulled your own, smaller, but much thinner blade, from an internal pocket in your coat, along with a spool of razor thin wire. He stopped silently and you stopped not even a foot behind. If someone were to see your bodies in profile, they would see the two of you made the same shape, a light bend in the knees grounding your feet, torsos leaned forward, eyes and ears open, hands tight around your weapons of choice. You slipped on a pair of thin sheepskin gloves, something that wouldn't be penetrated by the sharp wire.
Kishibe put his unarmed hand behind his back, showing you his palm. A signal he had taught you to mean Target Present. You took in a silent breath, he did the same. Finally you could hear the soft rustling of the devil. No, it wasn't rustling. It sounded almost like it was…talking? Like hearing a whispered conversation happening two rooms away, you can hear that there is talking, but you can’t hear what it is or even make out the voices. This didn’t sound like a voice, more like a collection of voices. It was just barely audible over the road noise and wind. But he could hear it, and now so could you. Whatever you were going to kill tonight was right behind the corner. You pushed your now gloved index finger into his palm softly. Your way of telling him I’m ready.
There hadn’t been an alley to your right in over a block, so it was likely there was a dead end at the end of this corner.
What Devil would corner itself?
Before you could express your concern Kishibe stepped forward again. Then once more with his inhuman speed. Your body followed, attaching one end of your spool to the corner's edge and rushing behind him to line it along the opening, quick to attach the other side and duck underneath. He moved so fast you could barely see the Devil in front of you. It was so much…smaller than you anticipated. Only a few feet tall, thin and lanky. It was a deep grey/blue, shiny and goopy. You couldn't study it too long before you strung another line to the first ducking down to create an identical nearly invisible block a few feet lower.
Kishibe was making quick work of rushing and slicing where he could. The Devil seemed to be making little effort to fight back, just hopping from one spot to the next. It was fast, too fast, it seemed as though it was apparating in different spots rather than moving. Left and right, behind, in an unpredictable rhythm that had Kishibe pivoting sides more than doing any damage. He was usually silent when fighting, but you heard the huffs increasing in volume as he struck out. You watched closely, trying to decipher some kind of pattern in its movement.
The alley wasn’t covered, the area had only a single fire escape on the left building’s wall. You estimated it was only nine or so feet above you. From there it would be a swift jump/climb for the creature to escape to the rooftops.
It doesn’t want to escape.
“Kishibe!” Your voice clawed out of your throat, with no permission of yours.
Kishibe lunged to the right, finally catching the end of the gelatinous tail, lobbing off a few inches. The Devil, now trimmed, jumped to the left. Kishibe’s eyes were fixed in the way the tail’s nub was stuck to his blade. Only for a moment, a split second of distraction considering his arsenal. Deciding between using a different blade or sticking with this one. You rushed the creature as soon as you saw his stutter step, closing in on the fighters. Just in time for it to unfurl a long, proboscis tongue. It uncoiled itself vertically like a butterfly would, taking only a fraction of a second before expelling a fine mist over the both of you. Kishibe squinted, not wanting to close his eyes completely in case of a follow up attack, but you couldn't help it, the sting in your eyes, making you squeeze them shut. It made you cough. It tasted like nothing, but the inhalation was jarring. It felt like steam, it smelled like…ambergris, or sweat or lilac. Something warm and rich and deep. Not bad, just full. And organic.
“Don’t breathe in.” Kishibe commanded, breaking his own instruction by extension. He could feel whatever the liquid was on his lips, on his tongue, tingling the buds as the sank in.
Finally the amalgamated voice joined into language, or perhaps the mist granted you a level of understanding you didn’t previously possess.
Too late.
Kishibe didn’t allow it to continue its speech, bringing his blade down through the eye of the Devil, further and further until the thing was nearly bisected. It twitched briefly before stilling itself, blood pooled around its body.
You both had the same realization.
“This wasn’t it.” You vocalized for both of you, no Devil would have gone down that easily, or cornered itself.
“No it wasn’t.” Kishibe sheathed his knife, his flask found his hand, “This is just a piece of it. Probably not a very big one.”
You sighed, looking down at what remained of the bait that you had so easily fallen for. A Devil that could split itself into smaller, independently functional parts. It was horrifying to imagine the magnitude of what a power like that could do. The thing looks even smaller now split and limp on the ground, it could be useful to try and bring it back with you, give the lab team something to study. You saw plasma or some kind of internal fluid spreading out further, faster and thinner, than the blood was. You crouched closer, trying to examine the opalescent liquid.
“Don’t get too close.” Kishibe warned, using the upper arm sleeve of his coat to wipe blood from his face.
You felt the dew on your own face, swiping one finger across your cheek, looking at it. Shiny, thin, with a small iridescent sheen. It was the same. Whatever sap was leaking out was the same thing the Devil had sprayed you with.
“Flask please.” You asked.
Kishibe handed it to you wordlessly. You dumped its remaining contents onto the asphalt.
“What the fuck—“, he started but you tuned out.
You tried to scoop as much of the fluid up as you could into the now empty flask. You couldn’t really get that much but even a few milliliters would be enough to study. Your heart began to pound, thoughts of poison and infection raced through your mind. If whatever that was was going to try and kill you, gathering some of the source would be the quickest way towards inoculating yourselves.
“We have no idea what that shit was that it sprayed at us. We need a sample.” You stood up from your crouch handing the flask back to him.
“You could’ve let me clear it first. That’s just wasteful.”, he took it back snappily, shaking his head.
You rolled your eyes, of course he would find a way to complain about you potentially saving both of your lives.
“Whatever. If you get sick and need this, I hope you live long enough for me to say I told you so.” You removed your gloves, “We have to be close to the nest, why else would it send out a scout?”
Kishibe cleared his throat and blinked a few times. His head was starting to spin. That swimming, swirling feeling he usually only allowed himself once he was back home and there were no more devils to fight, no more choices to be made, only thoughts to silence and sleep to wait for. He hadn’t drunk nearly enough to be that drunk already. Usually when he was drunk his mouth felt dry, but now he was close to drowning. Swallowing down excess saliva over and over. This was something else.
Your heart was still racing, your mind chasing it down. You were starting to sweat, clammy hands and cheeks chilled by the wind that leaked into the alleyway. You felt on the verge of a panic attack, you were starting to panic when you felt it. A lick of yearning pulling at you. A pulse emerging from your clit. Your panties all too quickly became wet. Your nipples peaked and strained against the fabric of your bra painfully. Your mouth whetted itself, your tongue feeling loose and floppy among so much moisture. You no longer cared to examine the body of the Devil crumpled beneath you, you looked up to Kishibe. His eyes were darker than you had ever seen them, they seemed to be endless pools of abyss, begging, pulling, thralling you into them, into him. You had never noticed quite so closely the details of his face; high, pronounced cheekbones, hollows so symmetrical that even the long healed gash on his left cheek couldn’t take away the beauty.
You had seen a picture once, of him in his 30s. It was buried in some file, it wasn’t a great picture, he was bloodied and bruised, you hadn’t read the whole report attached but you could assume it was some kind of incident report. In this moment, in this alley, with whatever drug was now being carried by your bloodstream, you saw him for the younger man he was once. The same man he had always been. Only for a moment, his hair fluffy and dark, skin supple and bouncy, lips not yet wrinkled by time, full and wet. Those same lips faced you now, years of smoking seemed to have skipped aging this part of him. The eyes never change, the ones in the picture had been just as cavernous, just as unreadable. Like a shark, catching the wounded, wiggling fish it had traced for miles. The black iris and pupils bleeding together, stark against the white sclera. No wrinkle or bag in their periphery would ever make those eyes less terrifying to be caught in. Those shark eyes held you steady in their gaze.
“What?” You asked, panted, actually.
He didn’t answer, just looked you over, taking in every inch of your body.
“Kishibe, what?”
He cocked his head just barely, that god awful neck crack sending a jolt straight to your flooding panties.
“Stop looking at me like that. What is it?” Your cheeks burned, everything burned, you needed to loosen your tie or take your jacket off or fuck take everything off.
“Do you feel it too?” His voice was different, rough, strained.
Your blood fell cold again, despite the burn in your cheeks. Piece of the puzzle were falling together, but fuck you didnt have it in you to dare look at the whole picture yet. Your brain was starting to fuzz, boundaries of station and taboo blurring together.
You looked up at him with concerned eyes, pulling your jacket down your shoulders and dumping it onto the dirty ground without a second thought. “This isn't good. I feel…sick…”
But that wasn't the right word, you felt your body aching, heating and cooling too rapidly to maintain, shivers and sweats commingling into an internal hurricane.
“What do we do? Do we just---” You couldn’t speak the lewd ideas out loud, shame clogging your throat, making it hard to breathe.
He took one carefully measured step toward you. He wasn’t sure what to do either, he didn't have enough blood in his brain for reason, too much of it had fled to his cock. Which now strained against his pants so hard that he worried for the integrity of the button. You looked so concerned, but so good, the grime of combat appeared a better enhancement than the finest makeup in the world. Your eyes were large and wet, not crying but filling with moisture the same way his mouth was still drooling. You saw how you shifted your weight, a small gasp escaping you as--he speculated-- the inseam of your pants pressed too closely against you. Fuck he wanted to give in, to take it away, he wanted you, he wanted you so badly he thought this might actually be the thing that finally kills him.
You shifted again, uncomfortable under his gaze. You pulled at the knot of your tie, tugging it loose, praying it would give you some kind of relief. It did not. You undid your top buttons, hoping the evening air would cool your neck. He could see the sweat beading along your neck, for a moment he tasted the salt and sweetness on his still stinging tongue. Kishibe groaned, this was not helping his situation at all. His dick strained further, his heart wasn't even aching any more, it was spasming. Painfully. Was he having an actual fucking heart attack?
“Okay fuck it.” He gasped out, he felt lightheaded, this was happening too quickly“This will get worse before it gets better, I need to fuck something, now, and I don’t know how long I can hold out and I know you feel it too.”
He said it. It was actually out there, hanging in the space between your two overheating bodies. Even just hearing him speak those words aloud you felt a microsecond of repose, only to bring the intensity of sensation all crashing down on you once more. It was too much to bear, you sunk to the ground. You thought you might vomit, or faint, not from repulsion, obviously not, just from the overwhelming feeling of your own blood pulsing against your ears. You keeled over onto your knees, trying to fight your body.
Kishibe’s bad knee cracked as he crouched down to your level, one tentative hand finding the space between your shoulder blades. You moaned at the firm, warm pressure of him touching you. A broken, weak moan. One that sent him ailing once again.
“It’s some kind of aphrodisiac…”His hand moved up and down the line of your spine, not daring too low, or too high, staying contained in the benign, sexless rectangle of your shoulders, “But a strong one.”
You nodded, his words sounded like you were underwater, you could barely make them out, the sensation of his hand on you was too distracting.
“So what? Is it some kind of trap? A distraction?” You pled.
“Maybe.” Kishibe’s hand stilled, he moved to sit beside you, no longer able to keep himself on his knees, “pretty good defense. Keep your opponent…” his eyes flicked down the front of your shirt, then back out quickly, “occupied. Then attack.”
Your eyes flashed open, hoping to find his face again,“So we have to move. We can’t stay here.”
“Can you even stand?” Kishibe avoided your eyes, leaning his head back to the night side, showing you the full length of the side of his neck.
Drool fell from your lips, you could feel the sensation of his stubble against your tongue, the thin skin under your teeth, the muscles against your lips. Your pussy pulsed again, reminding you of the cause of your wandering mind. You looked down where your spit had pooled and saw it was laced with blood. Not a lot, but more than none. Whatever this was, it was doing something to you internally. Something bad. Kishibe’s hand, once on your back, gripped the back of your neck and turned you to face him. His face was deadly serious. A blood vessel had popped in his left eye, a small red moon surrounding the dark planet. This wasn’t some avoidable awkwardness, or some traversable terrain with no consequences, this was becoming life or death.
“Do you trust me?” He had brought your face so close to his own, you could smell the tobacco on his breath, the whiskey, something sweeter.
“Yes. Kishibe please…make it stop.” You finally begged.
He kissed you hard, the traces of blood in your mouth invading his own. You pulled him in by his shirt, scooting yourself closer to him, the gravel underneath you digging in its teeth, making holes in your pants. He was already undoing the fly of your pants when you took your first breath. You wanted to feel him, his body, his heat, anything, you ripped through his buttons, a few of the poor bastards making their new homes amongst the garbage surrounding you. If your younger self could see you now, in the arms of your mentor, surrounded by filth and death, about to cross every boundary she knew kept you apart, she would…honestly, you probably would be elated. Pervert.
“Open your mouth more.” Kishibe bossed.
He spoke in sharp, clear commands when you would work together, but still you were shocked his voice in this situation would feel so familiar. You followed suit and obeyed, opening wider, welcoming in his tongue. You grabbed at his chest, his side, his back; you didn't hesitate before digging your fingers into his skin, feeling the muscle, the skin. You pulled him closer. He had one arm wrapped around your back, the other finally unfastened your pants, making no delay in slipping two of his thick fingers inside and under your panties.
“Oh….. fuck…” He shuddered, pulling off your lips, his head and eyes rolling back in time.
You were so wet, if your pants had been any color other than jet black, how wet you had become would be so visible it would look as though you were incontinent. He felt your sticky arousal coat his fingers. Slipping into the wrinkles of his knuckles, where the skin made room for joints to move, part of him hoped they would never leave. He hadn’t even thought about how careful he should be with you. You were strong, an excellent hunter, great speed, regularly taking devils and beasts twice your size down in a single afternoon. But this was different,he knew that and he still couldn’t stop himself from plunging both his middle and ring fingers into you hard. You cried out, your recent break in sexual contact leaving you unprepared for such immediate insertion. In a flash the hand that had held you up by your back had dropped you, and now covered your mouth, pressing you against the pavement. Your eyes flew open, pebbles and debris digging into your back. But nothing was worth feeling except for him inside of you. His thumb brushed against your clit and your hips jerked up. He fed your pussy his fingers again and again, keeping a steady pace. You pushed your pussy harder against his hand, grinding your clit against his palm.
“Fuuuuuuuck, Kishibe.” You crooned against his hand.
“That’s it baby, open up.” He spread his fingers inside of you, “I don’t want to hurt you.”
You opened your eyes, surprised at the affectionate name, but were stopped when you found him watching the place where his fingers entered you. After a moment of blissful watching he looked back up to you, his mouth hung open in a permanent state of breathlessness. His tie hung loose but still knotted around his neck, his lips were already swollen. Pink and perfect, your spit and his combined reflecting the moonlight back at you like a blue light. You pulled him down to kiss you again, this time moving your tongue into his mouth. With your free hand you unbutton your own shirt more, stopping at your navel when you feel pressure start to build behind your womb. You tried to pull off his lips to warn him what was to come, but he held you in place.
You came with no warning, quicker than you may ever have, a hearty whine ripping from your throat. He gasped, looking down again and seeing your cum trickling down his wrist. He looked back up to your eyes, a smile on the corners of his open mouth. Before you could speak he kissed you again, moving his body over yours, before pulling you up to your feet. Your legs shook like a foal, but you didn’t need to count on them because Kishibe turned you and pressed you against the brick closest to you. The corners of the grout lines dug into the skin of your chest and your face. Kishibe’s lips had moved to your neck, teeth and tongue joining to worship your skin. One hand dug its nails into the brick in front of you, the other reached backwards to try and touch him. You felt the fabric of his shirt, hanging loose to one side, you felt part of his belt, he wouldn’t stop fucking moving.
“I want to touch you, stop.” You wanted to sound stern, but his lips behind your ear made you whimper your instructions, “oh kishi…”
Your eyes rolled back and you pressed yourself against the wall harder, sticking your ass out. Kishibe blindly found your hand between your bodies and guided it to the front of his slacks. You gasped, he moaned into your neck.
Finally.
Your hand mapped his length, and his…girth. It wasn’t the longest dick you had ever encountered, but jesus christ it was the thickest. That was why he had said he didn't want to hurt you, you realized. This thing could do some real damage. You could feel his heartbeat through his pants, he shuddered against you, pressing you into the wall further, as your hand found the end, circling over the tip of his cock.
“You’re not going to make me cum in my pants like some teenager.” He gripped your hair.
You gasped at how rough he was being. You usually had to beg for this kind of treatment. His breath was hot and damp on your neck, you circled his wet tip again.
“You sure about that?”
He released your hair to rip your pants off your hips, down to your knees, “Positive.”
His belt jingled and you heard the unzip of his fly, a moment later you felt the engorged tip pressing between your legs. Fear flashed through your body, making you gasp again, tears slipped from your waterline, but your body pushed your ass further into him, sliding his cock further, so it was nestled perfectly against your folds. You shivered, the anticipation of the real point of no return, coning at you fast. You whimpered out a small, scared cry.
“Please Kishibe, please…” you begged, “be gentle with me.”
Kishibe stopped, the pulse in his heart lurching at how pitiful you sounded. A twinge of…maybe remorse(?) causing hesitation. He never intended for this to happen like this. You didn’t deserve to be rushed through fucking in some back alley, just steps away from an open metropolis. You deserved a bed, and privacy, and time. He would be lying to himself if he had never imagined a night with you. He knew better, he knew the nights he had spent alone, imagining just how to draw out these exact sounds from you. How he would find you alone at the bar, after some not technically mandatory, but certainly expected social time with coworkers, bring you back home and finally have you all to himself. He would indulge himself in fantasies of your body, how it would feel under him, how your hips would strain to straddle his lap, how your breasts would look freed from all bindings, no clothing to keep him from the decadence of your figure. He would have been kinder, he hoped at least. This wasn’t anything like he had imagined. Maybe it was loss that pulled at him now. Mourning for the first night he hadn’t even realized he valued so heavily. He chose then that, despite the circumstances, and despite his arousal plagued mind, he would try his hardest to give you something closer to what you deserved. What he deserved.
Despite the burning desire taking over his body, he slowed, moving your hair off your neck, laying tender kisses among the still indented bite marks and blooming bruises he had already laid.
“I’ll be gentle. I promise, I’m going to take it away, okay?” He didn’t have to turn your face this time, you craned your neck to meet his lips again.
This kiss felt different, kinder, more unified. But the bliss was supreme only momentarily, when he finally began to enter you it was immediately surpassed. You weren’t sure if it was the effects of the aphrodisiac or if it was just him, but the pleasure overwhelmed your every sense. The moon bloomed, taking your vision over completely, pleasure blinding you. A long, howling moan was released into the night sky. It was unclear who sounded it, but it didn't matter. He pushed further into you, until he was fully inside, his hips flush with your ass. You were panting, gasping, no longer kissing him, desperately trying to relax to allow him inside of you, you were gripping him too tight, he couldn’t move.
Kishibe was struggling, you had a hold on him so tight, too tight. His back was hunched at an odd angle because of his height, he couldn't have access to your neck or lips and stand up straight. He couldn’t stay immobile like this, the strain was already becoming too much.
“I’m sorry, I have to.” He grunted, pulling his hips back, forcing your muscles to let him go.
Your body shook, choppy whines came from you as he thrust into you again. You were gripping the wall as hard as you could, digging your nails into any textural abnormality you could find. Your cheek stung against the brick as your face scraped against its rough surface.
“I know. I know. Breathe, baby, breathe.” Kishibe couldn't stop his hips, which carried on finding their pace, but he tried to give you soothing words to take some of the pain away.
His increasingly powerful thrusts made it hard to get a steady breath, but you focused on breathing deep and not holding it or hyperventilating. After a few deep breaths, you could feel your pelvic muscles softening, the lubrication of your previous orgasm, the mess of arousal brought about by the Devil’s poison, and his pre cum soothing the stretch. The pain wasn’t gone, but it was being overshadowed by the bliss of being full of him. You weren’t even out of your clothes, your pants were around your knees, your shirt hadn’t even been unbuttoned completely, the fabric of your bra caught on the texture of the brick, your jacket had been discarded…somewhere… but it didn't matter. You were full of cock, his cock, and suddenly it was clearer to you than ever before that this was where you belonged, wet and oozing, limp and drooling, ready for him to use you how he pleased.
Once you had relaxed, Kishibe could finally get some real rhythm going, finding his hips pistoning on instinct rather than by his input. The friction, the wetness, the sweat, the smell, the sound, he was hypnotized. He no longer cared about a passerby hearing you, or if the real Devil was waiting in the shadows to ambush you, he didn’t care about anything. Anything except feeling your pussy around him every second for the rest of his life. He needed this, he needed you. He had always needed you. He bit hard on the back of your shirt collar, trying to stop the moans and grunts from escaping him. His last fuck had been some random pickup two weeks ago, she was fine, sexy, didn’t ask a lot of questions, and that was pretty much all of his criteria these days. But sex with her felt like a sneeze compared to this. He began to wonder if he was actually a virgin all the time, and this was what sex actually was.
“Harder Kishi, harder….please.” you begged, deepening the arch in your back, begging for his fat tip to kiss the wall of your cervix.
You weren’t as tense now, still tight, but not dangerously so, he could go full force and not hurt you, and fuck was he ready to. Kishibe bent you further, one hand on your hip, the other on the back of your head. He pulled all the way back so that just the very tip was pressed against your hole. In the same moment, he gripped your hair, pulled your head off the wall and snapped his hips forward, your hands kept your shoulders from hitting the wall too hard, his hold on your hair kept your face safe. But nothing could have prepared you for the burst of pain/pleasure that filled your nervous system. Without any time to prepare, he repeated this action. He found a new rhythm, brutal and fast. Out to the tip, in to the base. You didn't even realize the volume of the choked cries you were letting out until his hand found its way to your mouth again. One finger pulling at the corner of your mouth, making your gag.
“Shut up.” His stern voice was back, the gentility had vacated when he felt himself bottom out,“you want anyone off the street to come back here and see you like this?”
Both you and he didn’t miss the way his hypothetical made your pussy clench around him.
“Or maybe you would?” He snapped his hips again, deeper, sending you gasping, “You want everyone to see what a slut you are, huh?”
He was a man possessed, nothing that came out of his mouth had crossed his mind before, and yet it felt truer than saying his own name. He continued:
“Everyone should see me fucking you, so they know. Your perfect little hole is all for me. I can’t believe you had this the whole time and you kept it from me.” He brought his hand down on your right ass cheek, “How dare you. This pussy was made for me.” another spank, “This pussy belongs to me, understand. Your body belongs to me.” he spanked you again, on the same exact spot.
You screamed at the third spank, the skin was so hot, you could already feel it welting. Your wetness was spilling down your legs, his harsh hands and possessive words making you wetter with every syllable.
Another spank came, “Say it. Who does this pussy belong to?”
“You!”
A kind rub over your cheek brought down your defense, before he spanked again, even his own palm starting to sting, “and who does your body belong to?”
You cried out again, his hips relentless as he tortured you, “You! Kishibe, you!”
“Mmm, good.” He smoothed a hand over your wounded cheek, only to dig his nails into the sensitive meat, lean into your ear and speak again, “and who do you belong to?”
“You! Kishibe you, I belong to you.”
He dug his nails in harder, “Who?”
“You Kishibe, you!” You tried again, only to see him raise his hand out of the corner of your eye.
“Captain!” You tried again.
The hand cracked against your skin, “Wrong again.”
Your legs were barely hanging on, the assault on your ass making your knees shake and your arms scrape down the wall.
“Who am I?”
It hit you.
“Master.” You sighed out, knowing you had gotten it, the name he felt most suited him when he had this much power over someone, “I belong to you, master.”
Pride blossomed in his chest, he brought a non threatening hand down across your aching backside, petting your hip softly, feeling the down hairs at the base of your pelvis grow coarser as he parted your center, his middle finger finding your clit.
“That’s right, baby. Good.” He circled your twitching clitoris.
Your legs shook harder, ‘Master…master I can’t I ca--”
But you did, you came again, spasming around his cock, which he buried deep inside of you for you to ride out your climax, still petting at your clit. He continued until you gathered the strength to pull his hand away.
“awh..”He cooed in your ear, “can’t take it anymore, can you?”
You shook your head. He began moving his hips again, pumping into you again and again, “Poor girl, can’t keep up with the old man, huh?”
These taunts seemed not of his own creation, but he still couldn't stop them.
“How long have you dreamt of this? Years? And look at yourself, was this what you imagined? Pants around your ankles, surrounded by trash, falling to pieces after barely getting started?” He mocked, “How disappointing, all that time to prepare and still you can barely keep up. Looks like I got to you too late.”
But that was when you heard it. He heard it. The words were not his own. The voice, it was covered, influenced…filtered in some way. Coming from his desperate mouth, but not his. He noticed it too. It was getting closer, the real Lust Devil, not one of its parts. There was no telling how little time you would have before its arrival. He stilled his hips, against every screaming cell in his body that wanted to continue.
“Stand up.”he ordered, and despite your trembling legs you did, “we have to move now. Break the wires.”
In a Devil hunting first for you, you pulled up your pants, lamenting the amount of liquid arousal that would now find its home in your panties, and donned your gloves to remove the razor wire from the alley’s opening. Adrenaline and endorphins keeping your hands steady, you felt empowered, more so than you had crumbled on the floor in pain prior to this whole endeavor. Maybe the two orgasms had worked some of the effects to the back of your mind, hitting snooze on the incline, however brief. Your watch read 7:58 pm.
“Should we—?” You started, feeling like maybe this was your chance to take this thing down for real.
Kishibe, who had now tucked himself back safely inside his slacks, still achingly hard, rushed past you, grabbing your hand and turning the corner towards the exit.
“Nope. We are in no condition to fight.” He pulled you along, you could barely keep up with his leggy gait.
“But I feel like—…”
“Fine! I’m in no condition to fight. Come on.” He tugged you further towards the street.
You kept your eyes on his back, the street lights in front of him giving him a corona of light, making him seem deific. You heard scuttling, shambling behind you, growing closer. The voice returned, or maybe it had always been there? But now you heard your own voice, and Kishibe’s, your pants and grunts together, his nasty taunts, your pleading begs. You had joined whatever collection this thing was creating. You didn’t dare look back. You knew about Sodom and Gomorrah, about Orpheus and Eurydice, you knew better than to look back when you were so close to salvation.
Kishibe pulled you both out of the line of the alley, and you both burst into the night street. He stopped a few steps from the alley’s entrance, in the open light of the street, you bumped into his back, but he was quick to physically guide you to his side instead, keeping one arm around you, still desperate to have you close. The beast didn’t venture into the light. It stayed eight or so yards from the entrance, away from prying eyes. It made no sound or retreat, but it made no charge either. And that was good enough for Kishibe. He tugged you along, pulling you past the much smaller crowd, and back in the direction of the car. The ache was building again inside of you, how could it be asking more from you already. He hadn’t even cum once yet, by your own mental calculations he was probably running on pure adrenaline.
“Kishi?” Your voice was still hoarse.
He kept walking.
“Kishi, baby?” You tried again, slowing your pace just slightly.
He tugged you further, still not waiting for your question.
“Kishibe, what’s the plan?” You got tired of waiting for his permission, you stopped, “you can’t drive like this, I can’t either. It's at least thirty minutes back to the office, and I don’t think we can do much there!”
“Fuck!” He stopped and turned to face you, coming close, his voice threatening, “I’ll fuck you right here if we don’t find somewhere else.
His other eye had a small hemorrhaged vessel as well. Two identical spots in either eye. Your heart burned at the sight, at his desperation. He needed you, he needed you to find somewhere where he could relieve himself, where he could have you at the fullest with no interruption, either from peril or from prying eyes. You flashback through your entrance to the area, what had you passed, what had you seen? There was something, there had to be, or else you wouldn’t feel so sure of it. You just had to remember. Fuck! Your mind was still scrambled. He was growing restless, his grip on your arm growing tighter and tighter. He inched closer and closer, you became aware of the passersby, witnessing you bruised and scratched in the grip of a much larger, desperate man. It wasn’t a good look.
Wait..
“A love hotel! We passed one on the way here! It had a lit up sign in the front window!” You finally remembered. It couldn’t have been more than a block away.
He groaned, picturing the check in process and the seedy room,. But fuck, if he was ever desperate, it was now.
“Find it.” He ordered, letting you lead the way.
You took his hand and led him down the sidewalk. You were right, it wasn't even three full blocks away. A tall building, a large neon flower in the window, a white awning hanging above..
“Just, don’t talk, okay?” You told him as you walked inside he rolled his eyes but followed you.
A bored looking clerk sat at the desk, he had a pair of bulky headphones plugged into a walkman on his desk. A chime rang out as you entered, but the music must have been too loud, he didn't flinch. He didn't move until you approached the desk. He ripped off his headphones as though you were his boss catching him slacking off, but his frightened eyes grew suspicious as he took in the pair of you. Your shirt was buttoned wrong, your tie was lost somewhere, as was your jacket. Your cheek was bleeding, bruises on your neck unhidden by the haphazard collar. Kishibe looked no better, blood on his shirt, which was missing quite a few buttons, tie still on, but barely, his hair was a mess. His usual stoic scowl had been replaced with a harsh glare trained directly at the clerk, his foot tapping like a caged animal.
“Excuse me, hello. We would like to check in.” You tried your best to sound casual.
“Um…” The clerk hesitated.
“We’re…”You thought on your feet and said the first thing that you could think of, “Engaged! We just got engaged, I mean. And our..in laws! Yes, our in-laws are in town and we don't have a lot of privacy and we just want to…celebrate.”
The clerk eyed you both again, analysing you and Kishibe individually and no doubt trying to parse together how you would fit as a couple.
“We would like an overnight room.” You continued, trying to remind him of the actual task at hand.
Kishibe was stunned by your plan, by how bold it was, and how poorly you were pulling it off. You worked at a secret (ish) organization, for fuck’s sake. But he was amused by your efforts, so he doubled down with you.
He wrapped a big arm around your shoulder, leaning over the desk, “Maybe something with a tub.”
The clerk nodded, whatever was in front of him was none of his business, he saw plenty of strange pairs come through the lobby. And anywhere there was no way he was getting his ass kicked by this guy at his current pay rate.
“Yeah…okay,I just need a credit card to put on file.” He finally explained.
Your wallet was safely tucked in the car, you didn’t have anything. You hadn’t even considered this part, how could you have not thought about this? Kishibe pulled a leather card carrier from his coat pocket, not a credit card but his Public Safety clearance badge and slapped it down on the counter.
“How’s that card work?” He hissed.
The clerk scanned it briefly, sighing, probably lamenting the admissions given to government workers and retrieved a key from the corkboard behind him and handed it over.
“Whatever man, just don't break anything.” He had checked out of the conversation the moment Kishibe had approached, he put his headphone back on, “Fifth floor. Check out is at 10am.”
Kishibe took the key and his badge and pulled you toward the elevator.
“Thank you!” You waved to the clerk, just barely getting it out before the elevator doors closed.
You had half expected Kishibe to pounce on you the moment they did, but he stayed still. Watching the numbers above the door illuminate and dim.
“So when’s the wedding?” He finally spoke at the illumination of the third floor.
“Shut up, it got us here, didn’t it?” You laughed.
“Right, it was your stellar in-law cock block story that got us up here, and not the government issued free pass badge.”, He cracked a smile.
You both laughed, the chime of the elevator alerted you the doors would open on the fifth floor. The tag on the key was for room 5102, close to the elevator. Kishibe pressed you forward by your waist, leading you out of the elevator and down a few doors to the room. He unlocked the door and you stepped inside. The room was fine, a large king bed placed in front of a boxy, but relatively new tv. A radio clock on one night stand, a lamp on the other. The door shut and locked behind you, Kishibe fasted the chain lock, the dead bolt, and the handle lock, then turned back to you. He saw the abrasion on your cheek, the blood beginning to dry. He took your face in his hands, running his thumb along the outside of it. Guilt pulled at the back of his brain, but fuck he couldnt hold out anymore, he circled his other arm around your back and pulled you in to his mouth. Without the urgency, without the danger, he could kiss you and feel like he earned it. He kissed you deeply, tilting your head back, tasting your mouth, pushing you back toward the bed. You melted in his arms, finally feeling them for how sturdy and safe they could be. Your tongue pushed against his, his hand frond your hair, you found the front of his pants, unbuttoning them quickly. Where his belt had gone was a mystery, but none of your concern. You pushed them off his legs until your knees met the edge of the mattress. You tugged at the rest of your shirt buttons, pulling it off of you and tossing it aside, your tie followed. He finally let you leave his kiss to pull his own shirt over his head and off, his coat seeming to have disappeared. You both shuffled out of your pants and underwear, You reached behind to unclasp your bra, shrugging it down your arms. The process taking only seconds but feeling like a frigid, isolated eternity separated from him. It was like you were magnetized, pulled together by a gravitational force that took everything in you to resist. He stood in front of you, bare, studying your figure, trying to commit every inch of your body to memory. Every freckle, every scar, every bend and shadow of muscle, every fold, everything. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was, to see you in your truest form, wanton and waiting. He thanked whatever evil caused this Devil’s creation, and cursed himself in the same breath for doing so. But trailing his hands up your curves, to take hold of your full, perfect breasts, he found himself brought to his knees before you, a zealot at the altar of you. You let him push you back onto the bed, the cushioned mattress underneath you was nirvana compared to the grit and gravel he had taken you on before. Your legs spread themselves, no longer needing your guidance, no longer held together by your barely removed pants. Kishibe’s wet tongue moved up your leg, he could taste your sweat, and he reveled in it until he found his next vice, your legs were still coated in the arousal that leaked from you, sticking to your skin under your pants and now coating his tongue, destroying his mind. Or what was left of it.
Tasting you brought him higher and higher, cleaning your soiled thighs, swirling his tongue over the top of your knee, flattening the soft hairs with his tongue, spit laying them flat in his wake. Your hips jerked up as he joined you on the bed, agile body moving between your legs. He pulled your legs further apart, not bothering to look at your face. No, his eyes were fixed on your pussy as you spread open for him. Your perfect, drooly, needy cunt parting itself, drawing him forward. He made no effort to stop the line of saliva that dripped from the corner of his mouth, he didn’t even feel it. He didn’t feel anything, anything except hunger, except want, except need. Perfect folds and layers, ready for him, begging for his touch, you really were made for him. In a single look he forgot every piece of fine art he ever saw, every inch of his earth that any numb skull could have called glorious, he knew glory now. True glory. And he needed it to be his, to claim it for his own.
Kishibe had moved to his knees, hands firm on your legs to either side of him, hunched over your body, you felt shy under such an intense stare, right to where you were most vulnerable. You reached up and brushed your fingertips over his cheek and back around his ear bringing his attention back to your face.
“Kishibe…”You moaned in a whisper.
You looked so desperate underneath him, the pillow lucky to be graced with your hair, him, even luckier to bear witness to such beauty. Your mouth hung open slightly, pupils blown out under heavy lidded eyes. Your breasts rising shakily with panting breaths.
“Please, I can’t wait anymore, Kishibe please,” You begged, tugging him by his neck, “Fuck me.”
The jolt that sent through his body could knock out every electrical grid in Japan. He pulls your hips down to him, then lifts them to be level with his own. Holding you up with one hand, his other aligns his cock with the hole he could now picture with perfect clarity. His dark eyes caught yours, he watches them fly open as he penetrates you. Finally able to take you how he needs, he is able to slide into you deliciously, pressing against your g spot. Your back arches up under his hand, but he follows, not able to stand being parted from you. It would take an act of God to remove him, at this point. Your tight walls tremble around him, working their hardest to allow him inside. It was bizarre, impossible, inhuman. You subconsciously press against his stomach. Pushing him away, unable to handle the deluge of pleasure and pressure he is causing.
He grips your hips harder, bruising them, and presses into you more, “where do you think you’re going.”
You whimper as he presses against your cervix, grabbing at the bed sheets, trying to leverage your hips back, but finding the bed is blocking your escape. And still your legs wrap around his hips, torn between trying to pull him inside further, and trying to free yourself. One of his rough hands leaves your hip and he takes your hand in his, interlocking your fingers. You melt back down into the bed, giving him the room to pull his hips back. Kishibe leans over you, laying you back on the bed, blocking out the still illuminated overhead light with his shoulder as he thrusts into you again. He squeezes your hand harder with every thrust. His lips find your neck again, your hands wrap around his neck, tangling in his soft, white hair. He fucks into you fast, pushing himself, and your poor body to their limits, you have no choice but to hold on and succumb to the waves of pleasure.
He kisses you again, lips hot and swollen, “So good.”
He repeats it like a mantra, again and again as he bottoms out inside and pulls back. He can’t do anything but repeat it. The friction, your lips, finally having you for himself since this whole ordeal began, he can’t last.
The praise, the feeling of him inside, the relief of a bed under you, the feeling of his pelvis rocking against your clit, it all becomes too much and you feel yourself tighten around him. You know he feels it too because he grips your hand and breaks the kiss to cry out in delicious agony.
“Don’t--.”Is all he manages to let out before his climax blinds him, the lamp light blooming white and over taking all his senses.
The obscene sounds he makes and the sight of his pleasure scrunched face push you to follow him, cumming for the third time.
His cock pulses inside of you, painting your insides with his cum. He feels like it will never end, he doesn’t want it too. Kishibe wants to see your tummy swollen, a trail of cum dripping out from between your legs, your face covered in it, your tongue full of it. He wants you full, inside and out, marked as his, full of him, for all to see. He wants you round and pregnant, showing off everything he has done to you. He wants to see you helpless and bred, full breasts ready to be fed from.
He’s losing his fucking mind.
He had never wanted children in his life, he made medically sure of it nearly two decades ago, but right now if he could stitch it back together himself he would. Coming back to himself, he sees you panting below him, and nearly cums again. Your mouth hinges open, and your tongue flops out.
“Spit.” You huff.
His face must have betrayed his surprise.
“Please, I need it, please,” You please, “Spit in my mouth, please, Kishi.”
He takes your face in his left hand, tilting it back, extending your mouth even more with his thumb on your chin. He lets a full, slow string of saliva fall from his mouth into yours, watching it slip down your tongue. You lap it up eagerly, leaning up to lick some stray fluid off of his chin. Your pussy squeezes him again as you move. You keen back happily, the taste of him in your mouth, and the feeling of him inside of you bringing you a blissful feeling of balance.
“Nasty girl…”He chides, leaning back onto his knees, watching your eyes flutter closed.
A smile upturns your perfect lips, “mmmmmhm.”
“I have to pull out now.” He warns, you let out a long, displeased whine as he does.
Coming down from your own high, you catch your breath on the bed, only reopening your eyes when the bed sinks next to you, you turn your neck to him. His flushed, bruises on his neck, his chest, scratch marks on his arms and chest, the two red bursts in his eyes, you hadn’t realized you were so rough on him. He looked over your figure, seeing the abrasions on your chest from the brick, the marks of his teeth, the bruises his hands left on your body, the cut on your cheek. A Pair.
You brush a disarranged hair off his temple, gentle fingers feeling the sweat cooling on his brow.
“How do you feel?” You whispered, voice hoarse.
He moves onto his back beside you, taking your hand in his, kissing the back, and bringing it down to his chest, over his heart. You could feel the rhythm steadying itself.
“Coming down.” He studies your face, “How do you feel?”
You nodded, “Good, a little sore.”
“Do you think it’s over?”
You shrugged, “I feel better? Less like I am going to die, which is good.”
He nodded, his mind was clearing, the virus releasing its hold on him. He tried to remember his usual bedside manner,“You should probably…you know…”
You smiled again, moving carefully to sit up, “I didn’t expect you to be so diligent about UTI avoidance.”
He leaned up on his elbow, “You don’t know me as well as you think.”
“I like what I’m learning.” You flirted, standing and walking to the small bathroom.
Kishibe watched your behind sway as you left him. Once the door was shut behind you, he fell on his back staring up to the ceiling. Everything that had transpired tonight flashed through his mind, his cock had hardly softened but now it ached again. Would this ever be over? And when it did, what would become of you two. The poison still plagued his mind, it was a logical jump to assume it was still affecting you too. He didn’t know how to be around you after this, he couldn’t even begin to picture the logistics of bringing you back to work, seeing you everyday and knowing everything he knew now. He wanted to know what you thought, if you felt differently about him, if this was a bizarre, horrible accident that ruined any kind of real feeling that could have existed between the two of you. He couldn’t bear waiting anymore, he had to be close to you again before this ended. He stood, joints clicking, dick hard, and crossed to the bathroom door. He knocked.
“Yeah?” your voice rang from the other side of the door.
He hesitated, pressing his forehead against the wood, fighting back the words that were about to come out, “Can I come in?”
You were silent behind the door for a few seconds, he wasn't sure how he expected you to respond.
“Sure, it’s unlocked.” Your voice came again.
He turned the nob and opened the door, you were standing at the sink, cleaning the cut on your cheek.
“Got lonely in there?” You smiled at him through the mirror, and it warmed his fearful chest.
Kishibe wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you from behind as you carried on dabbing a cool cloth on your face. He hummed an affirmative response, against your neck, smelling deep the smell of your skin. He occupied himself pressing kisses to your neck and shoulder while you finished. His eyelashes tickled behind your ear and you caught his eyes in the mirror as you giggled.
“You’re clingier after sex than I expect.”
He kept your gaze in the mirror, “Expected, huh? Thought about this before?”
Why lie, call it exhaustion, or maybe the poison was still working on you, “Yeah.”
He didn’t flinch, still looking at you through the glass, “Me too.” he confessed.
You turned in his hold, the reflection no longer enough of a view for you, you had to look at his face, his real face.
“So why didn’t we ever…?”
He shrugged, “Didn’t seem right,” but that wasn’t the full truth, “Didn’t want to lose you.”
You were touched by his admission, his vulnerability. Certainly the influence of adrenaline crash and hormonal endorphins racing through both of you. You felt your throat tighten, your tear ducts start to burn. Sex always complicated things, especially when jobs and feelings were involved. Depending on how the morning played out, this could be the last time you had the chance to be exposed and alone with him.
“I don’t want to lose you either.” One hot tear fell from your eye, stinging your freshly cleaned cheek.
Kishibe wiped the tear away, his face still as unreadable as ever, “then you won't. Not yet.”
“What do you want? From all of this, I mean.” You asked him, not accusation or malice in your voice.
Kishibe sighed, smoothing your hair and holding your face, “I want to enjoy being here with you, while we work this out of our systems. Tomorrow morning I would like to drive you home, so you can rest. We will file the report, be only as honest as we want to be, give the sample to the lab, clock out, and then figure it out from there.”
Then he moved his hands down to your shoulders, pulling you even closer and kissing you hard. A kiss that was devoid of the Devil’s influence, no hungry, tasting tongue, no hot, fevered breath. Just his lips sealed to yours, your body pressed against his, and a promise to try. When he pulled away he spoke again,
“But right now I want us both to get in that tub.”
The night didn’t end there, the waves of fervent arousal lapped over both of you again and again, but the tide had gone out. The coast was cleared, leaving a sparkling landscape on which the both of you could relax.
Epilogue
The bath had been the perfect remedy for your bruised and abused body. It soothed Kisibe’s aching joints. He washed and rinsed the debris out of your hair, you cleaned the blood off of his hands and neck. His fingers worked over you, bringing you a slower, gentler climax. Back in the bed, clean and dry, you reciprocated his generosity. Sucking, kissing, swallowing everything he had given to you so brazenly before. Laying together in the dark, sleep was hard to find. Whenever you thought it would overtake you, bringing you back into an embrace to pleasure yourselves and each other. Eventually, morning came. Whether you had woken up to the sunlight, or you were too engaged to realize it had come up, was unclear.
You left the hotel in the early afternoon, returning to the car which had a citation for exceeding the parking meter. Kishibe drove you back to your apartment, pulling up and parking outside.
“Okay.” He turned to you, the light of day illuminating complexities that hadn’t yet been considered, “They won't be expecting us back until tomorrow, anyway. So you should try and get some sleep.”
You nodded, “Yeah. Thanks for the ride.”
“Anytime.”
“I meant the car.” You teased.
He chuckled. You didn’t want to get out, you weren’t ready to be done. Tomorrow would mean talking about what happened, reports had to be filed, incident reports, lab tests, possibly declaration of relationship forms. You gnawed on your lip. Kishibe watched you closely, seeing you weigh out each thought, waiting for the perfect way to phrase what you were after.
You met his eyes, the devious flicker in your eye that he now knew the motivations of intimately shining at him once again,“You wanna come upstairs, take a nap and fool around a little?”
Kishibe sucked in a breath through a sly smile, his exhausted cock already jumping forward at the chance.
“Absolutely I do.”
Thank you for reading!!! I hope you enjoyed, I really enjoyed writing this piece and I hope that comes through!! Fuck I want this man so bad. literally so bad.
Let me know your thoughts, I always love hearing what you do/dont like. Anyway, thanks again! See you next time!
- Doodle <3
Skyhaven, once a defiant spire against the twilight was now in disarray. The air was thick with the bitter tang of scorched metal and earth. Ash drifted like snow, clinging to crushed concrete and the corpses that were scattered about like broken dolls along the halls of the crumbling building. The noise of battle had faded to a dull thrumming in his bones. Colonel Caleb had launched a full scale attack on Ever, decimating their forces and cornering the head of the corporation. Small explosions rocked the building from his troops that were fighting a distance away.
Yet, all that could cut through the ringing in his ears was her breath, a ragged, exhausted sound that made him grind his teeth. Her hands were blood soaked and gripping the weapon she should have. Her shadow stumbled, the broken window besides him, reflecting her haggarded appearance. MC forehead was slick with crimson but a stubborn defiance radiating from her even as she clutched a weapon far too heavy for her trembling hands.
“MC! You shouldn’t be here!” His voice tore from his throat. He wasn’t looking at her, his gaze was locked on the incoming envoy of armed soldiers Ever controlled. “I told you to stay out of this and let me handle this mission alone!”
Yet, she moved closer, her boots crunching on the debris. “You also told me you’d protect me from everything but who will protect you?” Her voice trembled slightly but her eyes blazed with a fierce, impossible light that was too bright, too full of a love for him. “This time… we protect each other.”
Caleb’s chest constricted, a vise tightening around his heart. Not fear. Not even the white-hot fury that had been his constant companion since he saw her enter the battle. But that old, familiar, maddening ache. It was a desperate longing for this infuriating, impossible girl who dared to challenge gods with nothing but the fierce, unwavering grit of her spirit and the stubborn, foolish hope that bloomed even in the face of annihilation.
“You think your love makes you strong?” CEO Mervin Ayer’s voice snapped across the ravaged battlefield with a tone of cruel amusement. His guards surrounded him, guns drawn and pointed at them. He leveled his own weapon, the cold steel glinting in the dying light. “Let’s see what it’s worth when it’s torn from your hands.”
Caleb moved, a surge of power erupting within him. Wild, instinctive gravitational energy twisted the air as an invisible shield coalescing around them. But he was too slow, his reflexes dulled by the sheer weight of the catastrophe he made it through to get to the boss.
MC’s eyes widen as she moved first.
“No!”
A clumsy, desperate shove, fueled by pure, unadulterated terror, sent him sprawling against the jagged remains of a wall, the impact stealing the breath from his lungs.
Then, the deafening roar of gunfire ripped through the silence. Three brutal shots shattered the air.
Two crimson blossoms erupted violently on her back, blooming instantly and staining her uniform a horrifying, expanding shade of red. The third bullet whizzed past, catching in his belated gravitational wall a fraction of a second too late.
Her body convulsed, a violent shudder that ripped through Caleb as if his own flesh were tearing. Then she collapsed like a marionette whose strings had been cleanly severed.
Caleb lunged with a strangled cry, catching her just before she slammed into the razor-edged rubble. The sheer impact of her weight in his arms was horrifyingly light, as if the life leaving her was making her hollow. Her breathing was a shallow, wet rattle, a fragile flutter like a bird with a shattered wing.
Blood. So much blood. It drenched his hands, hot and viscous, seeping through his clothes and sticking to his skin. The coppery stench filled his nostrils, suffocating him, drowning out the smell of smoke and ozone.
“No. No, no, no…!” His voice shattered, splintering into a raw, subhuman scream ripped from the marrow of his bones. It was a primal howl of despair that echoed the tearing of his very soul.
“Hey! Stay with me!” His hands shook uncontrollably, a frantic, wild plea as he clutched her against his chest, trying to press his palms over the wounds. But her blood just slipped through his fingers, mocking his strength. “I’ll fix this— I can fix this, just—”
He cradled her face, his thumbs frantically brushing against her blood-soaked cheek as if the simple act could anchor her to the earth. “Don’t close your eyes. MC, Please. Don’t—don’t leave me, little pipsqueak. Look at me.”
Her lashes fluttered, heavy and dark. Her eyes were wide, wet, and terribly unfocused as she looked up at him.
“You’re safe…” she whispered, a choked gurgle of crimson staining her lips. She tried to smile, but the corner of her mouth twitched weakly, failing to hold the shape. “That’s… good.”
“No!” Caleb’s breath hitched, a wild, clawing panic seizing his throat. “Why would you do that?! You always think your life means less than mine! It doesn't! It never did!”
Her weak, bloodstained fingers twitched, dragging across his sleeve until they found his hand. Her grip was fragile, a ghost of the strong, stubborn girl she had been only seconds ago, clinging to him like a dying ember in a storm. “Because yours… matters more to me. Skyhaven… needs you. They still… need you.”
“I need you!” The words tore from his throat like a ragged wound. His vision blurred, the edges of the ruined cityscape dissolving into a hazy, blood-tinged smear. His heart was being ripped apart, shredded into a million agonizing pieces inside his chest. "Don't do this to me… Please, please don't do this."
Her face crumpled into a silent wave of sorrow—not for herself, but for him. Always for him. She hated seeing him cry. She shook her head, a slow tremor wracking her ravaged body as a heavy breath rattled in her chest. “…It’s okay.” she breathed, the words barely a vibration against his skin.
His power, entirely untethered and wild now, twisted around them, warping the very fabric of gravity into violent, snapping knots. “Don’t talk like you’re leaving. Don’t you dare—”
“It’ll be… okay…”
“It won’t!” Caleb whimpered, a broken, childlike sob escaping him. He pressed his hands violently against her ribs, his knuckles turning white as he tried to physically force the life back into her body. “It won't. You can't leave me, MC. I don't know how to— how to be without you—"
“Promise me…” Her lips barely moved, her voice dropping into a terrifyingly quiet whisper. “Live. Even if… it hurts. Even if I’m not there.”
Caleb could only stare down at her, tears hot and fast streaming down his face, splashing onto her pale cheeks and washing away the blood. His mind screamed for him to agree, to offer her some semblance of peace, but the words choked him. He couldn’t promise existence in a world where she didn't breathe.
“I—” His voice broke on the shard of glass lodged in his throat.
Her smile returned one last time, it was faint, fragile, but unbearably loving. “Be happy… for me, ‘kay? My Caleb..."
Then she jerked once. A single, violent spasm ripped through her small frame, and then her hand slipped from his, dropping limply onto the rubble.
Her eyes remained open, staring blankly at the smoke-choked heavens. But the brilliant, fiercely stubborn light behind them disappeared, leaving her irises dull and hollow. Like a candle snuffed out by a cold wind.
Caleb froze, his lungs seizing. The wet, rattling sound of her breath was replaced by an absolute, suffocating silence. He waited. One second. Two. Hoping for another gasp, another twitch of her fingers, a sarcastic comment to break the nightmare but nothing came.
Against his chest, her skin began to lose its heat with a terrifying speed, the coldness of the rubble seeping beneath her seeped into her flesh.
No sound escaped his lips. There was only the sickening warmth of her blood cooling on his hands, and the gaping void where everything he had ever fought for had just been extinguished. Caleb shook, his mouth opened, whispering her name, pleading with her cooling body to come back to him. He couldn’t hear anything but the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears.
And the world shattered.
A hollow silence descended, a crushing weight in his chest where his heart used to beat. It was a void, an emptiness that stretched into infinity. He felt it before it manifested, instinctually wrapping around himself and her in a protective shield of gravity. Bullets flew in his direction but were repelled by his shield. A sickening scream emitted from the depths of his soul, his grief so raw and untamed reached out, and the universe answered in kind. A dark force twisted space and time into an unnatural, swirling vortex of black and purple.
It unraveled behind him, a silent scream in the fabric of the world. The building buckled unnaturally, the walls and ceiling folding in on themselves before being sucked into the massive black hole that was ever growing. Nothing escaped its orbit, pulling bodies, technology, weapons. Everything and anything unfortunate enough to be writhing its radius.
Then came the light, the building was gone. Then the air, the sound, the memory of Skyhaven’s skyline. That’s all that was left. The Void wasn’t a power anymore, it was hunger. A maw of absolute negation, gaping wider with every shattered piece of Caleb’s heart.
It consumed the entire city, without care, without prejudice. Everything in sight was sucked into the black void but him and MC. They were contained in an orb of pure gravity, elevated in the sky, untouched from the carnage that he unleashed on the city.
The world as far as he could see ended in silence. It didn’t with a scream, not with an explosion but with the absence of her.
Caleb evol gently set them down amongst the rubble of what remained of the city. He knelt in the ruins, her body cradled against his chest, his fingers tangled in the fabric of her armor, sticky with blood. The battlefield around them was a graveyard of twisted metal and shattered stone, the air thick with the scent of crisp freshness and iron. But none of it mattered. Not the distant wail of collapsing buildings, not the crackle of dying fires. Only the weight in his arms. The wrongness of it.
The Void pulsed behind him, silent now, sated. Dissipating into nothingness. But the pressure in his chest lingered, unrelenting. He rocked her gently, forehead pressed to hers. Her skin still held the echo of warmth. That was the worst part. The cruelest.
"Wake up." A command. A plea. "T-this isn’t funny, MC. Wake up…" His breathing stuttered as he spoke.
But her lashes didn’t flutter. Her lips didn’t twitch into that stubborn smirk he loved. She just lay there, slack and lifeless, the ghost of her last smile still etched into her pale face.
Something in his chest split.
A sound tore from him. It wasn’t a scream nor a sob, but something raw and guttural, an animalistic noise of pure anguish. His grip tightened, his nails biting into his own palms.
"No. No, no, NO!"
Above them, the sky darkened. Not with clouds, not with smoke, but with something hungry.
The Void stirred above him again.
It uncoiled from the pit of his rage, a living thing, ravenous and wild. He felt it in his teeth, in the marrow of his bones. That power he’d always kept leashed, now snapping free. Gravity twisted the air around him once more. The rubble at his feet lifted, hovering like debris caught in a tidal wave.
‘What does it matter now? What was it all for…?’ Ever was dust. Skyhaven was already her tomb. He would make it his final resting place as well. He would be with her, even in death.
‘Let it take everything’
He felt nothing but earth shattering sorrow, heard nothing but the phantom echo of her gentle voice calling to him. The cold seep of death that clung to her body was too much for him to bear.
“If this is the cost of love… then let the void consume it all.” As he said his last words, the void lowered a distance from him.
In the silent aftermath, amidst the swirling chaos of what remained, a flicker of something captured his gaze. Not of light, but of form, impossibly solid against the backdrop of nothingness.
Caleb’s breath stalled. The Void recoiled like a beaten dog, disappearing completely.
“No...”
There she stood. Alive. His MC.
His head snapped up, his grief-stricken gaze locking onto the impossible figure standing in the desolate expanse. She stood as if born of the void itself, untouched by the annihilation. And in her face… he saw her. Not her, not exactly. But the echo was undeniable, a cruel, breathtaking twist of fate in the heart of his despair. A jolt of disbelief, sharp and disorienting, pierced through the numbing grief.
She wasn’t as he’d last seen her… broken, bleeding, cold to the touch. No. She was whole. Staring at the wasteland around them with wide, disbelieving eyes. The ruins of Skyhaven stretched behind her, half-consumed by the jagged edges where his power had stopped. As if the Void itself had choked on her existence.
Her gaze found him.
‘MC…? No… it’s not possible.’
You stood amidst the fractured remnants of Skyhaven, your body aching, a roadmap of bruises blossoming on your skin from the force of the blast. One moment, laughter had echoed around you as you walked with friends, the vibrant energy of the city thrumming beneath your feet. The next, a cataclysm. Silence. Ruin. An emptiness so profound it swallowed sound. Your ears still rang, your thoughts a jumbled mess of confusion and terror. ‘Where are they? What happened?’ And then your eyes met his.
‘Mina? Liam?’ Your gaze, wild with panic. You clawed at the ruins beneath yourself, a desperate, futile search for her friends, for something familiar, for anyone. But there was no signs of life anywhere. Amongst the debris, the thick cloud of dust that obstructed your view before confronting the fact that you were all alone.
‘How could this even be possible?’ Tears welled up in your eyes, struggling to come to terms with the very real possibility that they might actually be dead. You sat down on the uncomfortable ground, pulling your scraped up legs to your chest and cried, feeling completely helpless.
That’s when you heard it. The most heart wrenching wail that startled you out of the self pitiable state. You stood up on shaky legs, almost toppling over from the unstable foundation.
Your head whipped back and forth, listening carefully and straining your stinging eyes to try and find the person. You believe that whoever shouted that way must be injured or be with someone who was injured. ‘I might be able to help.’ Unfortunately, you weren’t a doctor but you’ve been EMS trained and could possibly offer assistance.
After a moment, your eyes caught a glimpse of a shadow and she walked forward, determination shining in your glossy stare. Then, through the haze of dust and disbelief, you saw him.
He sat amidst the wreckage, a solitary figure cradling a still form. Even from this distance, the raw, palpable grief radiating from him was a physical force, a wave of despair washing over you. But it was his face that made her pause. It was like staring at a ghost, a flicker of a half-forgotten dream. A shiver of unease crawling down your spine, something in your gut told you to steer clear of him.
‘He doesn’t look hurt? But he looks so… broken.’
The man simply stood there, amidst the devastation he seemed to embody, his shadowed gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that stole your breath. His eyes were hollowed, a deep violet haunted by a pain that seemed to mirror the utter destruction surrounding you. For a moment, you were trapped in his gaze, a silent, desperate question hanging in the dust-choked air between you. ‘Why is he looking at me like that? Why does he look like he’s seen a ghost?’
Caleb’s arms tightened around MC’s stiff, lifeless body, like a desperate need to anchor him to reality. ‘She’s gone. She’s really gone. I’m seeing things.’ He couldn’t let go. Not yet. This was all that remained of his world, the tangible proof that she had existed, that their love had been real. ‘My MC. My light.’
But his gaze kept drifting back to the figure standing silently amidst the ruins. The echo. The impossible resemblance. His mind struggled to reconcile the horrific reality of his loss with this sudden, inexplicable appearance of this doppelganger.
‘How? How can someone look so much like her? On the very edge of oblivion… I was ready to—’ He shakes his head. It felt like a cruel jest, a phantom conjured by his shattered psyche. ‘Is this a trick? Is my mind finally broken?’ He was sure of it. Maybe it was his mind trying to comfort him in his last moments
He stood up amidst the devastation, cradling a lifeless figure, his eyes burning with a raw intensity that seemed to pierce right through you. There was a wildness in his gaze, a desperate hunger that sent shivers down your spine.
Caleb’s mind, for a fleeting moment, wrestled with the impossibility of the situation. The resemblance was too perfect, too uncanny. ‘It’s her face. Her eye color.’ But deep down, a sliver of lucidity remained. ‘No. Her warmth is gone. Her light… when she looks at me…’ He knew. He knew this wasn’t MC, Mc’s body was in his arms. This stranger held a different stillness, an unfamiliar fear directed at him that felt wrong. He couldn’t understand why he felt that way, a stranger shouldn’t matter.
But the promise he left unanswered, the desperate vow to live, to somehow find happiness even in the face of this soul crushing loss… it twisted within him. He looked down at MC in his arms, shedding a few more tears from his red rimmed eyes.
‘You told me to live. To be happy.’ This was a sign. A second chance, however warped, however impossible. His broken mind latched onto the idea with a terrifying certainty. ‘I can’t do that without you. I won’t do that without you.’ He wouldn’t let this echo disappear. This was a twisted, cruel gift. A lifeline in the abyss. He was unworthy but he was going to take it.
With one last, lingering look at the still face in his arms, he bid a silent farewell to the love he’d lost. ‘Goodbye, my love. I tried.’ Caleb said before a flicker of something cold and resolute hardened his gaze. He gently laid MC’s body amidst the debris, a final resting place in the world he had destroyed in her name.
Then his eyes locked onto you, and he moved. The raw power that had just annihilated a city now propelled him towards you like a predator drawn to its prey. ‘She’ll be mine now. My last chance.’
As Caleb moved, the silence of the void that was no longer there seemed to press in on you, amplifying the sound of his approach.The almost imperceptible shift in the debris around him as his evol smoothly propelled him forward. Each movement was deliberate, his intense gaze never leaving yours.
‘She looks so much like her. It’s… almost exact. Just… softer. Curvier.’ His grief momentarily subsided, replaced by a strange sense of awe and a familiar possessiveness. This wasn't MC, but the resemblance was a balm to his ravaged soul, and your… plumpness… was undeniably appealing as you are filled out in all the right places.
You stood frozen, your heart pounding against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat in the echoing silence. He was coming closer. The raw power that radiated from him was palpable, a silent threat in the emptiness. Your mind raced, desperately trying to make sense of the horrifying events and this terrifying stranger.
“S-stay back. Please, just stay back.”
Caleb stopped a few feet away, the distance feeling both too far and suffocating. His hollow eyes, still shadowed with grief but now overlaid with a strange light of approval, scanned your face and your body. ‘Not MC. Different. But… exquisite.’ He found himself appreciating the subtle curves that MC hadn't possessed.
"Who are you?" His voice was rough from yelling but holding an air of curiosity. "What's your name?"
You could only stare up at him, your breath caught in your throat. Shock had stolen your voice. He was impressive in stature, powerful, and the grief clinging to him was almost a tangible force. Your eyes darted around the wasteland, a desperate plea for escape in a place where there was none.
With a subtle flex of his power, Caleb lifted you effortlessly into the air, drawing you towards his body. You gasped, your feet dangling in the emptiness. He wrapped a strong arm around your waist, his grip firm. With his other hand, he tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze.
‘So like her. The same fire… almost. And this softness…’ He marveled at the uncanny resemblance, the delicate curve of your jaw, the wide, fearful eyes that mirrored MC's in their shape but held a different kind of vulnerability. His thumb brushed lightly against your cheek. ‘Perfect.’
Panic finally broke through your shock. You struggled in his hold, pressing your hands against his chest, trying to create distance, but his grip was like steel. He chuckled, a low, humorless sound. ‘So much weaker than her.’ A flicker of disdain crossed his features, quickly replaced by a possessive gleam. ‘No matter. She’s mine now.’
Suddenly, a high-pitched, chilling screech echoed in the distance, cutting through the silence of the void. You flinched violently, your eyes widening with a fresh wave of terror. The sound was alien, predatory.
Caleb, initially lost in his appraisal of you, barely registered the sound. His focus was solely on the woman in his arms. But then, he saw your reaction, the raw terror that eclipsed even your terror of him.
Another screech, closer this time, sent a tremor through the debris.
‘Wanderers.’ A cold realization dawned on Caleb. Skyhaven or what used to be Skyhaven was defenseless. Those monsters drawn to the aftermath of such immense power would be filtering in with no fleet to keep them in check. He looked down at you, a cruel calculation in his eyes.
"Listen to me." He said, his voice low and urgent. "Out here, you‘re defenseless. Those things will tear you apart." He gestured vaguely into the echoing emptiness. "Come with me. Be mine. And I'll protect you." His gaze hardened.
"Refuse, and I leave you here. Your choice."
Your mind reeled. The horrifying creatures, the desolate void, and the insane man holding you captive. It wasn't a choice at all. Survival screamed within you.
"I… I’ll go with you." Your voice trembled, barely a whisper.
"Say it properly." Caleb ordered, his grip tightening slightly. "If you want my help. Say, 'I choose you, Gege.'"
You choked out the words, your voice trembling with a mixture of terror and a desperate will to survive. "I... I choose you... Gege." The unfamiliar title felt foreign on your tongue, a surrender to the terrifying reality of your situation.
A genuine smile, the first he'd worn all day stretched across Caleb's face. It was a chilling sight, devoid of warmth, reminiscent of a predator satisfied with its claim. ‘Her voice... it’s softer than MC's. Almost too sweet.’ He found himself oddly pleased by the delicate sound, a strange counterpoint to her fuller figure. ‘It suits her.’
“Good girl. Gege will take good care of you now.” He said, praising you before reaching to pat your head affectionately.
‘This isn’t her. Not truly.’ A small voice inside his head reminded him. But you wore her face, her eyes, her image too closely. And for Caleb, after having his heart shatter into a million pieces and spiraling, maybe that was enough.
Effortlessly, he scooped you up into his arms, lifting you off the rubble as if you weighed nothing at all. The raw power that emanated from him hummed along your skin as he used his evol to propel you both upwards, soaring high above the ravaged landscape. Unbeknownst to you, he’d used his power to carry the body of the woman he was cradling moments before, trailing after you both as you ascended. The distant screeches of the wanderers faded below, a terrifying threat temporarily negated by your forced compliance.
❕cw: pseudo-incest, emetophilia, degradation, blowjob, mentions of violence
⭑.ᐟ
his sideway glance is enough to set off sirens. her heart thuds against her ribcage, throat tightening. clammy palms clasp onto his chest, nails digging into the thick fabric of his uniform. it’s stiff and smells coppery mixed with aftershave. a pitiful attempt of masking it up.
“caleb. god, caleb, tell me you didn’t.”
his tongue prods against his cheek, a cruel look with ill intentions settling into his features. her sobs grow increasingly louder with each passing second.
caleb had done many terrible things before and he would continue to do so. regardless, the blow would never soften. throwing himself against the concrete wall behind him, his gloved hand tiredly runs down his face. like he’s already sick of the conversation.
"answer me." she curses the waver in her voice.
“i would do anything for you,” he stalks forward “i will do anything for you.”
leather fingers graze the surface of her cheek tenderly. then, he pushes out a resignedly bitter laugh.
“if that’s what it takes,” he doesn’t pause as he grips her neck and tears open her blouse “but it goes much deeper than… this.”
a few buttons fall to the hardwood beneath her, lost and never to be found. she gasps as his mouth sinks onto her pulse, teeth imprinting her skin. without a thought, she releases a moan. it betrays her every instinct to push him away, to keep interrogating.
he’s always looked so attractive like this— felt so incredibly sensual after something so awful.
“i don’t care. i don’t care.” the words sound false as soon as they leave her lips, immediately being cut off by thick digits being stuffed into her mouth like a gag on a hostage.
two of them dip down the center of her tongue, stroking until she chokes. her body shutters in retribution, but he furthers his assault. nausea travels from the back of her esophagus to where his fingertips rest, saliva oozing downward onto her chin.
it's vile and humiliating, the way she’s left to pant like a dog in a hot car, still sucking on the index of his hand. when he retracts them, he hums in approval and thumbs a tear away.
“say you care.”
“i-i care.”
“i would do anything for you.” caleb repeats more sternly.
sex is an odd thing with her brother. first he strips her bare, makes her sit with her own naked, disgusting truth. covers her in it, then rewards her with his own. two ideals meeting halfway. a yin and yang.
in reality, she does care. a sick, twisted part of her wants him to be brutal. to decimate any threat to their relationship, all because he can. because he can’t stand the thought of death separating them for the second time. being a hunter had conditioned her to be selfless and the hero. caleb had always taught the opposite, to let her carnal desires take hold.
“i want you. i need you— now.” she mewls, knees crashing onto the floor and sodden mouth hovering at his clothed erection.
he brushes away stray hairs on her sweaty forehead, an insidious look gleaming in his eyes when she unsheathes his cock. it stands tall and proud against her cheek, the tip poking at her left dimple.
“you like it.” his taunts are only a catalyst for her arousal.
suddenly, his cock buries deep inside her mouth, barely moving and holding it there like it’s something to keep himself nice and warm in. the size of him is overwhelming and her nose burns at the sensation of needing to breathe. she claws at his hips to seek for any mercy he may give.
caleb only chuckles at her struggle, impaling her by bucking his hips impossibly harder, pubes brushing against her skin and veins on his adonis belt pulsing. bile comes up at the same time he releases inside of her, an ugly sound tearing from her chest as he begins to finally thrust in and out of her.
"s'fuckin' sexy." his voice is so low she almost misses it.
it seeps around the corners of her mouth and patters onto the ground, thick and unhurried. caleb doesn’t give a fuck, just keeps riding his orgasm out until he’s satisfied at completely dismantling her.
“my baby sister is just as filthy as me.” he pulls out abruptly.
her cheeks flush at the sight of her vomit coating his shaft, the way it travels down his balls and into his trousers. it's not much of anything, void of food and almost purely swallowed saliva mixed with his semen. it froths as he continues to stroke himself with it, still hard and needing more.
she’s sobbing now (with embarrassment or need, she’s not quite sure), mouth agape and still gagging on the phantom feeling of his cock. he taps the head of his length once, then twice against the flat of her wet muscle, groaning out in ecstasy as he ejaculates once more.
“i could keep going, just like this, forever. i wouldn’t feel any remorse— for killing, i mean. as long as you’re by my side, it’s worth it. you’re worth it.”
his love is an illness that goes beyond physical. one she would gladly choke on if it kept her under his towering body, ripe for the taking.
tags: first times, virginity loss(the LIs), sentimental boys, no protection
[Xavier, Rafayel, Zayne, Sylus]
XAVIER
He’s shaking.
Not the kind of tremor you get from cold or nerves you can laugh off. This is bone deep, the kind that starts in his chest and rattles out through his fingertips where they’re pressed to your bare waist like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he grips too hard.
Two centuries.
200 years of dreams that felt too real, of waking up reaching for someone who wasn’t there, of touching himself in the dark to the memory of your laugh, your scent, the way your hair used to catch moonlight.
200 years of thinking maybe this was all he’d ever get; ghosts and echoes.
And now you’re under him.
Completely bare, vulnerable and all his.
Your thighs cradle his hips, soft and trembling just like his. He’s been hard for what feels like hours, since you first tugged his hoodie over your head and let him see every inch of skin he’s only dared imagine lately. He’s leaking against your stomach, slick and insistent, but he hasn’t moved to push inside yet.
He can’t.
Not yet.
Because the second he does, this becomes permanent. Proof he finally got you back. Proof he’s allowed to have this.
“Xav,” you whisper, fingers threading through his hair, tugging just enough to make him look at you instead of staring at where your bodies almost touch. “Hey. Breathe.”
He tries. The inhale is ragged. His eyes are glassy, too bright, too wet. He blinks fast so he can force the tears back inside.
“I-” His voice cracks on the single syllable. He swallows, tries again. “I dreamed this so many times. Every version ended with me waking up alone.”
Your thumbs brush the corners of his eyes before the tears can fall.
“You’re not dreaming.”
He lets out a broken little laugh that sounds more like a sob.
“I know. That’s the terrifying part.”
You pull him down until his forehead rests against yours. Your noses bump. Your breaths mingle. His cock twitches against your folds, hot, slippery from how long he’s spent kissing down your body, licking into you until you were shaking and pleading.
When he finally notches himself at your entrance, he freezes again.
You feel the tremor travel through him, feel the way his arms cage you tighter like he’s bracing for impact.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours. “I’ll stop. I swear.”
You cup his face. “Don’t you dare.”
One slow, careful roll of his hips.
The head slips inside.
He chokes on air.
His whole body locks up; muscles jumping, breath punched out of him in a sound that’s half moan, half broken whimper. His eyes squeeze shut. Forehead drops to your shoulder. He’s shaking so hard the bed creaks.
“Fuck,” he whispers, voice wrecked. “You’re- so warm. So- tight-”
He doesn’t thrust yet. Just stays there, barely inside, letting himself feel it. Feel you clenching around him like your body remembers him even if your mind spent years apart.
Tears prick at his lashes again. He blinks them away, but one slips free, tracing down his cheek to land on your lips.
You lick it away without thinking.
That undoes him.
You feel him throb inside you. Feel the way he’s fighting not to move, not to chase the heat too fast, like he’s scared it’ll disappear if he’s greedy.
“I missed you,” he chokes out against your skin. “I missed you so much I-I thought I’d die from it some nights.”
His hips give one helpless little rock. Then another. Shallow. Shaky.
You wrap your legs around him, pull him closer.
“I’m here now.”
That breaks something.
The next thrust is deeper, harder. Still careful, but desperate. His mouth finds yours, messy, wet, tasting like salt and relief. He’s whimpering into the kiss every time he bottoms out, every time your walls flutter around him.
He doesn’t last long.
How could he?
Years of wanting crashes down all at once.
He comes with a broken “-love you-” muffled against your lips, hips jerking erratically as he spills inside you, hot, too much, pulsing so deep you feel it in your stomach. His whole body shudders through it, arms trembling where they hold him up.
When it’s over he doesn’t pull out.
He collapses onto you, careful not to crush, but heavy enough that you feel every inch of him still buried inside, still twitching with aftershocks.
His face stays pressed to your neck.
You can feel the goosebumps on his skin.
You stroke his hair. Feel the way his breathing slowly evens out.
“Stay,” he whispers, voice raw. “Please don’t go again.”
You kiss the top of his head.
“Never.”
He exhales like he’s been holding that breath for half a decade.
And for the first time in a lifetime, he falls asleep inside you, warm, safe, finally home.
RAFAYEL
He's not gentle.
Not at first.
Years of waiting, watching, wanting. Of painting your face from memory until the canvases blurred with his frustration. Of waking from dreams where he could almost taste your skin, only to find empty sheets and the echo of your name on his lips.
And now you're here. In his studio. On his bed that's more nest than mattress, surrounded by half finished sketches of you that he never quite got right.
You're naked under him, finally, and he's staring like he'll memorize every freckle, every curve, before fate rips you away again.
His hands tremble when they trace your sides, not from nerves, but from the sheer effort of holding back. He wants to devour you. Claim you so thoroughly that no other lifetime could erase it.
"Raf," you breathe, reaching for him, but he catches your wrists. Pins them above your head with one hand. His grip is bruising. Desperate.
"Don't," he warns, voice low and ragged. Lilac eyes dark with something ancient and hungry. "Don't touch me yet. I won't last if you do."
You arch under him anyway, teasing, always teasing and he groans, leaning down to sink his teeth into the junction of your neck and shoulder. Not hard enough to break skin, but enough to make you gasp, enough to leave a mark that'll bloom purple by morning.
Mine, it says. Finally mine.
He's hard against your thigh, leaking already, the tip flushed and slick. He's been like this since you stripped for him, whispering promises he half believed were lies.
When he finally spreads your thighs wider, positioning himself at your entrance, he pauses. Just the head pressing in, hot and insistent and his free hand digs into your hip like an anchor.
"Look at me," he demands. His voice cracks. Just a little.
You do.
And that's when the dam breaks.
He thrusts in, slow at first, inch by torturous inch, feeling you stretch around him, warm and wet and perfect. His eyes flutter shut. A shudder runs through him, violent enough that the bedframe protests.
"Gods- " He chokes on the word. Forehead drops to yours. "You feel like every fucking prayer I never thought would be answered."
Before you knew it, you felt a small pearl roll over your collarbone, one, then two, they started gathering around your shoulders.
You look up and search for Rafayel’s gaze.
Your eyes widen as you see his lips pressed together tightly and his lashes wet.
Before you can say anything, he moves again.
The next thrust is harder. Deeper. He releases your wrists to wrap both arms around you, clinging, pulling you flush against him as his hips snap forward again and again. The rhythm is uneven. Frantic. Like he's afraid if he slows down, you'll disappear.
"Rafayel-" Your nails rake down his back, leaving red lines he'll wear like badges.
He hisses at the sting. Buries his face in your neck. "Say it again. My name. Say you're mine this time."
You do. Over and over, gasping it into his ear as he fucks into you with everything he's held back for years. His hand slips between you, fingers circling your clit, possessive and skilled from all those lonely nights imagining this.
You come first, clenching around him so tight he nearly blacks out. Your cry echoes off the studio walls, mingling with the wet sounds of skin on skin.
He follows seconds later.
Spilling inside you with a broken moan, hot pulses that seem to go on forever, marking you from the inside out. His hips stutter. Grind deeper like he can fuse you together.
When it's over, he doesn't pull out.
Doesn't let go.
Just holds you there, still buried deep, as his breathing slows. Tears turning into pearls streak down his face now, silent and unashamed. He brushes them away from your cheeks too, thumb gentle for the first time tonight.
"I waited so long," he whispers, voice hoarse. "Don't make me do it again."
You pull him down for a kiss, soft, salty with shared tears.
"I won't."
He exhales against your mouth. Finally relaxes into your arms.
That night, he finally sleeps without dreaming of loss.
ZAYNE
He insists on the lights low.
Not off, just dim enough that the warm glow from the bedside lamp paints long shadows across your bodies, but bright enough that he can see every detail. Every flutter of your lashes. Every inch of skin he’s finally allowed to touch without layers of restraint between you.
You’re both bare now. He’s kneeling between your thighs, palms braced on either side of your ribs, and the first real press of his chest to yours makes something in his throat click shut.
Skin.
Actual skin on skin.
His skin on your skin.
His heartbeat is loud enough you can feel it thudding against your sternum like it’s trying to climb inside you.
“Tell me if I-” He stops. Swallows. Tries again, quieter. “If anything feels wrong. Or too much.”
His voice is steady on the surface but you hear the faint tremor underneath, the way his breath hitches when your fingers trail down his spine.
He’s nervous.
Not the fumbling, boyish kind. The kind that comes from someone who’s spent years perfecting control, who’s terrified that if he lets go even a fraction, the whole carefully constructed wall will come down.
You cup his face. Thumb along the sharp line of his jaw.
“I want this. I want you.”
His eyes close for a second. When they open again, the green is darker, pupils blown wide.
He lowers himself slowly. Until every inch of his front is pressed to yours, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, thighs slotted together. His cock rests heavy and hot against your folds, not pushing in yet, just letting you both feel the contact. The heat. The slide of skin on skin.
A low sound escapes him, almost inaudible. Not a moan. More like relief so sharp it hurts.
He stays like that for long moments. Just breathing you in. Memorizing the way your nipples drag against his chest with every inhale. The way your heartbeat syncs with his the longer he stays pressed close.
When he finally shifts, reaches between you to guide himself, the movement is careful. Except his hand trembles.
The head breaches you.
He freezes.
Every muscle in his arms locks. His forehead drops to your shoulder. You feel the exhale against your collarbone, long, shaky, controlled.
“Warm,” he murmurs. So quiet you almost miss it. “You’re… so warm.”
He doesn’t rush. Doesn’t chase. Just sinks in bit by bit, like he’s cataloging every sensation. The stretch. The slick heat. The way your walls flutter and grip him involuntarily.
When he’s fully seated, hips flush, buried to the hilt, he stops again.
Doesn’t move.
Just holds himself there, arms caging you, face tucked against your neck. You can feel the fine tremor running through him now. Not from effort. From the sheer overwhelming reality of it.
No distance left.
No more barriers.
He exhales again, longer this time. His lips brush your pulse point.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he says, voice rougher than you’ve ever heard it. “I didn’t know… how much it would feel like surrender.”
You wrap your legs around his waist. Pull him impossibly closer.
He groans, low and broken, at the shift in angle. His hips give one instinctive, helpless roll before he catches himself.
“Sorry,” he breathes. “I-I need a moment.”
You don’t let him retreat.
Instead you slide your hands up his back, nails grazing lightly, then press your palms flat. Skin to skin. Everywhere.
“Move when you’re ready,” you whisper. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Something shifts in his breathing. Not tears, Zayne doesn’t cry, not like that but the tension in his shoulders finally, finally starts to melt.
The first real thrust is slow. Measured. Deep enough to make you both gasp.
He keeps the rhythm controlled at first, long, rolling strokes that let him feel every drag, every clench. But the longer he stays buried in you, the more the control frays.
His mouth finds yours. Kisses turn open mouthed, messy, desperate. One hand slides under your lower back, arching you into him so there’s not a single inch of space left between your bodies.
Skin. Heat. Friction.
He starts to lose the measured pace.
Thrusts get deeper, harder and edged with something raw.
“You feel-” His voice cracks. He tries again. “Perfect. You feel perfect.”
He buries his face against your throat when he comesx hips grinding in tight, stuttering circles as he spills inside you. The quiet, shuddering release of years of restraint finally giving way.
He stays inside after.
Doesn’t speak for a long minute.
Just holds you. Chest to chest. Breathing in time.
When he finally lifts his head, his eyes are clear. Calm again. But softer than you’ve ever seen them.
“Thank you,” he murmurs. Fingers threading through yours. Squeezing once. “For letting me… have this.”
You kiss his palm.
“Always.”
He exhales. Settles his weight more fully over you.
And for once, Dr. Li lets himself rest. Completely
SYLUS
He doesn’t pounce.
He could. Gods know he wants to, has wanted to since the first time you looked at him. But the second your clothes hit the floor and you’re bare beneath him on silk sheets that cost more than most people’s rent, something in his chest locks up.
Not fear. Not exactly.
It’s the weight of knowing you’re choosing this. Choosing him. After everything. After blood and betrayal and nights where he thought he’d lost you forever.
So he stays kneeling at the edge of the bed, red eyes locked on yours, waiting for permission even though you already gave it with the way you reached for him.
“Sylus,” you whisper, soft. A little shaky.
His name in your mouth still undoes him every time.
He exhales through his nose. Control slowly slipping away. Then he lowers himself over you, careful, so careful, bracing his forearms on either side of your head instead of caging you like he normally would. His body is a furnace but he keeps most of his weight off you, like you’re made of glass he’s afraid he’ll crack.
“You’re shaking,” he murmurs, voice low and rough. One large hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. “Tell me if you need me to stop. At any point. I mean it.”
You shake your head. Reach up. Thread your fingers through silver hair and pull him down until his lips brush yours.
“I want you,” you say against his mouth. “All of you.”
That’s when the last thread of restraint frays.
He kisses you like he’s starving, deep, slow, devouring but still measured. Still careful. His tongue slides against yours in lazy strokes while one hand trails down your side, memorizing every dip and curve like he’s mapping territory he’s only been allowed to dream of.
When he breaks the kiss, he doesn’t go for your neck or your breasts first.
He slides lower.
Broad shoulders push your thighs apart. He settles between them like he belongs there, because he does now. Because you’re letting him.
His first lick is tentative. Testing. Flat tongue dragging from entrance to clit in one long, slow stripe.
You arch. Gasp.
He groans, guttural, against your core. The sound vibrates through you.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “You taste better than I imagined. And I imagined a lot.”
Then he stops holding back on the oral.
He eats you like it’s the only thing that matters. Like your pleasure is the only currency he cares about tonight. Lips seal around your clit, sucking gently at first, then harder when your hips buck. Tongue circles, flicks, dips inside, relentless but never rough. Two thick fingers slide in when you’re dripping, curling slowly, stroking that spot that makes your thighs tremble around his head.
He doesn’t stop until you come, shaking, crying his name, nails digging into his scalp.
Only then does he lift his head. Lips shiny. Eyes blown black with want. But he’s still careful.
He crawls back up your body. Kisses you so you can taste yourself on his tongue. Lets you feel how hard he is, thick, leaking, throbbing against your thigh but doesn’t push for more.
“Not yet,” he rasps when you try to reach for him. “I need you ready. I need you soaked. I’m not small, kitten. And I’m not risking hurting you. Not tonight.”
So he works you open again. Fingers. Tongue. Whispered praise against your skin, “So good for me,” “Look at you taking it,” “That’s it, let me hear you”, until you’re trembling on the edge a second time.
Only then does he line himself up.
The head nudges your entrance. He pauses. Forehead pressed to yours. Breathing ragged.
“I’ve wanted this,” he admits, voice cracking just enough to betray him. “For so long I stopped believing I’d ever have it. And now that I do…”
He swallows hard.
“I’m terrified I’ll ruin it.”
You cup his face. Pull him closer.
“You won’t.”
He pushes in, slow. So slow. Inch by torturous inch. Every time you tense, he freezes. Murmurs against your lips. Kisses the corner of your eye. Waits until you relax before moving again.
When he’s finally seated, deep, stretching you full, he stops. Completely still. Arms shaking where they hold him up. Face buried in your collarbone.
His voice is wrecked. “You’re everything I’ve ever been missing.”
He doesn’t thrust right away. Just rocks. Tiny, shallow movements that let you adjust. That let him feel every flutter, every clench. Skin to skin. Heat to heat.
When he finally starts moving, long, rolling strokes, it’s reverent. Worshipful. Every thrust angled to hit that spot inside you. One hand slips between your bodies to circle your clit in time with his hips.
He wants you to come again. Needs it. Needs to feel you fall apart around him before he lets himself go.
You do, clenching so tight he chokes on a groan. Your orgasm drags his out of him like a confession.
He comes with a broken sound, half growl, half plea, burying himself as deep as he can. Spilling hot and thick inside you, hips grinding in helpless little circles like he can’t bear to leave even an inch.
He doesn’t pull out after.
Just gathers you close. Rolls so you’re draped over his chest. One arm locked around your waist. The other hand stroking your hair.
His heartbeat thunders under your ear, fast, unsteady.
“I love you,” he whispers into the dark. “Don’t ever doubt that.”
You press a kiss to his collarbone.
“Never.”
He exhales. Long. Shaky. Finally lets himself relax beneath you.
For once, the most dangerous man in the N109 Zone feels safe.
OK, hear me out. I am currently working on a post Paradise reader x Katsumi stuff (going back to my roots) while also catching up on the Baki manga (things have been hectic and I fell behind on the newer stuff). I was reading through the dinner scene with Jack and Yujiro and while I loved it (and overall just love when the focus is on Jack in general) it also really pissed me off lul. Like, Jack, my dude, my friend, my love… Fuck this guy fr, ya know?
BUT then that also got me thinking man... It would really suck to be step-sis reader in this situation, finding out that not only Baki but now Jack is growing closer to Yujiro. Her entire support system is just becoming even more fucked up and toxic, it’s arguable that it’s not even really a support system at all anymore. What if it gets to a point where it’s a team up situation, what then for poor reader? Yeesh what a bad and scary scenario, my condolences rip.
Then I wrote this as a little scenario of sorts as a ‘what if’ of when reader finds out Jack is becoming cushy with his dad. :) I hope you enjoy it!
Warnings: Stepcest, abusive and toxic family dynamics, gas lighting, mentions of prior abuse both child and current.
“It still seems a little unreal. I didn’t think I’d ever see the day where father actually acknowledged me.”
Jack spoke clearly, proudly, excitedly even. But after he had concluded his expansive dialogue recounting the time he just shared with Yujiro, your brain still struggled to understand the meaning of his words, the source of his jubilation.
There was no way in hell he could be this pleased after having an ill-advised dinner with the Ogre.
After giving yourself several seconds to let it sink in, you responded snappily, “Excuse me?” you stared pointedly into the hulking man’s eyes, “You’re this giddy because he complimented you?”
The content smile Jack had worn since he began regaling his tale slowly morphed into a more neutral, albeit forced, expression. Whether that was to appease you or out of irritation of your attitude was hard to say.
“Yes, but it’s not a big deal.”
You scoffed at his feigned nonchalance, “Well you obviously seem to think it is, seeing as you’re practically beaming while you tell us about it!” You pointed to your other brother, who sat on your opposite side, “Baki and I could barely get a word in edgewise with how on and on you went about the ‘greatness’ of it all.”
“Calm down (Name),” Baki spoke up beside you, “it’s pretty normal for a son to be happy when his father commends him, right?”
Your head snapped to the side, confusion engulfing your features as you watched the young man impishly shrug. “I think he’s right, it’s really not THAT huge of a deal. In fact, with how things have been going, we’ve even tossed around the idea of maybe making a monthly family dinner night a thing.”
Your frown deepened, “…Is this some kind of joke?
You could hear your heart pounding in your head, the conversation making your blood pressure rise by the second. It was already troubling enough that Baki had gone through such trials and tribulations seeking acceptance and a modicum of a ‘fatherly’ bond from Yujiro, but now Jack also seemed to be falling under the same mind boggling spell. It sickened you knowing the people you cared so deeply for would go to the lengths that your brothers had, just for a little recognition from a man who was at best a villain in your shared lives.
And on top of that, now they seemed to want to play house with him and have a monthly family meet up? Were their cruel childhoods at Yujiros hands so easy to forgive? Were the atrocities he committed so recently against you, their sister, so easy to forget?
When you received no response from the two you continued, “You cannot be serious. Please help me understand why you agreed to have dinner at all with that man, let alone why you are speaking so positively about some cheap compliments he gave you? And now you bring up some bullshit plans for ‘family time’ in the future? Maybe that bastard had a hand in your creation but you don’t owe him anything!”
Your words struck accord with Jack, his body visibly tensing as he gave a terse reply. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand (Name), and you don’t really seem eager to listen to reasoning. Trying to explain it further would be a waste of time.”
Indignation flared within you, “Well than why don’t you try and explain it to me in a way even an idiot can understand, since that’s what you seem to think I am anyway?”
“I never said that,” he growled, shooting you a look that warned you to cool down or face the consequences, “I’m just saying you are different from us. You’re a Hanma in name only, not by blood. You may be our family (Name), but you will always be cut from a different cloth than us. It’s impossible for you to understand”
Before you could retort Baki cut in, “What he means to say is that having a different birth father vastly changes our experiences. It makes it difficult to accurately articulate this bond to you, no matter how close we are. I know it seems weird, foolish even, but honestly it’s truly just-“
“Indescribable.” Jack finished, sharing a look between his half-brother that conveyed secrets you knew would never be privy to you.
A deep ache blossomed in your chest, spreading steadily through your limbs like a viscous molasses, heavy and thick as it consumed you. Your last line of defense was crumbling. The only support system that stood a chance against the crashing waves that were Yujiro Hanma was steadily being chipped away. Your brothers had always been a steadfast wall that protected you from the tempest, but even the thickest stone eventually yields to the elements. What was once so sturdy was now being ripped apart like weak clay, piece after piece plunging into the depths of that turbulent sea, becoming one with it.
Overcome by an intense loneliness, the loss of them was becoming unbearable to witness. Realization set in. It didn’t matter how much you loved them or how much time you spent with them, just as you may never truly get them, they would never truly get you. They could never know exactly how frustrating it felt to feel so helpless. It didn’t matter how fit or strong or smart you were, it didn’t matter how hard you pushed yourself, how far you went to protect yourself, or how many steps you took to stay ahead of danger. Countless hours, blood, sweat, and tears could be poured into making yourself stronger, you could become the most capable person on the planet earth, and none of it would matter in the face of Yujiro Hanma. Any effort you made against him could and would be squashed in an instant, his mere presence a belittlement of your entire existence. It was enough to drive you insane.
But unlike your brothers, you had no one else to turn to. No other sister, brother, or cousin that could understand your most painful secrets.
You were alone.
“Please, just listen to me,” your voice wavered. The confrontation was hard, but you did it with as much resolve as you could muster, “Maybe I won’t ever really know what you feel towards Yujiro and that’s fine, because frankly I don’t know that I want to. But I would hope that you would have more self-respect for yourselves than to go crawling up to that monster for any form of validation.”
You took a shaky breath, fighting back tears as you continued, “Yujiro has spent most of your lives disparaging, abusing, and ignoring you. He hurt and killed our mothers, warped our own relationships with the women who birthed us. He has done irredeemable and irreparable things that have altered us in ways we can’t reverse. You both have beaten and broken yourselves over and over again just for the chance to combat him, seeking worth only in your ability to stand toe to toe with him, lessening your worth because of HIM! And for what? A dinner every now and again, some words of affirmation?”
Tears cut across your cheeks, blurring the clear view you had of the siblings. “I’m so sick of it. I’m so sick of watching you relentlessly push yourselves past your limits day after day, year after year, as you chase after a man who isn’t even worthy of your time, let alone your respect or love! He doesn’t deserve the time of day, I don’t care if he’s the strongest man in the world or not! Anyone who acts the way and treats people the way he does isn’t anyone worthy of anything in my books! I can’t… I can’t be the only one who sees Yujiro for what he is.”
You slumped forward, squeezing your eyes shut.
“I’ve already lost so much to him… I can’t lose you two, too. If you won’t listen to me for your own sakes, then do it for mine. Please, just forget about Yujiro. Move on so I can move on with you.”
Grief, anger, and love crashed about your chest violently. Hiding your face in your hands, you fully broke down. Even as you made your plea, you were well aware it would most likely fall on deaf ears. The time for mourning had come, it was truly inescapable now.
None of you would ever truly be free of the maddening experience of being trapped in Yujiro Hanma’s web.
But instead of your outburst being met with chide commentary, you instead felt thick arms being wrapped around you, pulling you snuggly against a broad chest. You hiccupped against said chest, your hands clutching to the fabric of Baki’s shirt as he cradled the back of your head with his thick hand, rocking you gently back and forth.
“I’m sorry, (Name).”
For a moment, you paused. Ensnared by his soothing touch and gentle words, relief overcame you, both welcome and unexpected. Maybe you had been silly all along, thinking your brothers were too far gone to care about your opinions and feelings. They hadn’t forgotten the ills committed against them, the horrors you had lived through yourself. Baki had listened to your earnest plea and now he was coming to reassure you it would all be OK, that they were still on your side, just as they had always been.
It may have taken a break down, but you got through to him. Now, you could all work on moving forward on a new path, one without Yujiro, and-
“I think maybe you just need more time to get used to this.”
Breath fled your lungs, his words hitting you like a slap in the face. Spoken in the same sweet, mild tone, his manner now seemed far more condescending than encouraging.
“Get used to it?” Your voice cracked, his hold on you feeling more constricting than it did seconds prior.
“You’re our sister, we love you,” he squeezed tighter, “but we’re Hanma’s (Name). I know Yujiro isn’t dad of the year, and he’s definitely got some questionable quirks about him, but he’s our father and that’s how it will always be.” He ruffled your hair, “I’m sure given some more time we can work out all the kinks and come to a resolution. When that happens, we’ll all share a really nice family meal together to celebrate, home cooked of course!”
“True,” Jack chimed in, “Despite how he may sometimes act, I think father would really like for you to join us someday, (Name). You should even cook something for it, he’ll be pleased to see what a good little chef you have become.”
Bile rose in your throat, pin pricks of black dotting your vision as you struggled to breath. The world was spinning and everyone but you had gone mad.
With all the strength within you, you pushed yourself away from Baki, creating a palpable distance between you and the man you once explicitly trusted. There was a brief flash of surprise in his eyes at your minor burst of strength, but that look was quickly replaced with one more akin to disappointment.
‘Why can’t you just give it a rest?’ His expression begged, ‘You’re making this bigger than it needs to be.’
“Fuck you,” you seethed, “Fuck all of you. If that’s your choice, fine, but if he’s going to be in your lives then I am out.”
Unable to articulate yourself further you turned on your heel, fleeing towards the exit. You heard a chair scoot behind you, Jacks commanding voice following shortly after. Your hand rested on the doorknob, but you pivoted yourself just enough to acknowledge that you had heard him. Though your body was eager to run, your heart won out in the end. You would give one final chance to hear him out.
“Father didn’t just give me empty kudos. He truly recognized my strength and was sincerely awarding me for how much I have grown. But that’s not all,” his voice grew a bit softer as he continued “He also praised me for taking such good care of you. He asked about you with genuine interest (Name), wanted to know how you were fairing, what you had been up to, if you were well. If you gave him the chance-”
You wasted no further time in listening, the walls rattled as you slammed the door behind you.
I’m not sure if you’re still doing the 3K event but I was wondering if you could write some dirty BTAS Riddler x Fem!Reader? He gives me the vibe of being typically a gentleman and sickly sweet domestically but in private he’s a total service dom but can be rough when asked 👀
BTAS!Riddler x Fem!Reader, word count: 650
absolutely 100% seems like the kind of guy who would be the sweetest most romantic most polite dude in public and the minute you're behind closed doors he's making you get on your knees and solve a riddler before he will give you anything 💚
request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist
minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: sex as a reward, eddie being a tease, flirty, nothing too nsfw
Eddie had you laying on your back, his arms around you as his hips rocked against you, cock pushed upwards and into your body as he moaned and groaned in your ear. You hated to interrupt his unique brand of gentle lovemaking, but you'd been desperate to ask a little more for him, and you'd finally mustered up the courage to do so.
"Eddie… Could you… Maybe you could be a little rougher?"
His face shifted into an expression of shock, surprise consuming his features as he gazed at you with intrigue.
"My, my. How interesting. It seems you're a little bit more adventurous than I might have given you credit for. What an intriguing reveal. Layers reveal layers with you, don't they? A little puzzle to solve, a conundrum to unravel."
You blushed at his words, enthralled by the way he saw you, projecting his very nature, his fixation, onto you felt like he was bestowing you with the greatest honour. And yet, despite the praise and his obvious interest, he remained as firm around your body as he had been before your revealing request.
"Perhaps, my dear, if you want something from me, then I can get something from you."
He looked exceptionally mischievous, a sneaky grin that told you nothing of what he was thinking of, so you had to agree in order to find out more. You remained silent, knowing that Eddie would prefer to explain himself without interruptions, and that any pauses were to increase the drama, the tension, in what he was saying.
"How about, for every riddle you can answer correctly… I will get a little more intense. My grip will get tighter. My hands will get firmer. And, contrary to the traditional values of a prize, I will get a little bit crueller, since that's clearly what you want."
The threat of getting exactly what you were desperate for rendered you almost completely stupefied, but you managed to nod, clearing your throat to verbally confirm that it was indeed what you wanted with a shaking 'yes' before falling silent once more.
"Very well then! Here's your first one… I protect by sitting atop a bridge. Only on person gains protection from me at any time. What am I?"
More silence followed. You were sure you were capable of getting the answer. but you were flustered by the way Edward had picked up, his gleeful excitement and smug little smile overpowering your sense, stealing all of your focus.
"I… Um… I don't know."
"Oh, I am sorry, my dear. But, I'll be kind enough to give you another chance, ok?"
Another silent nod.
"Next riddle! I am always old, but can sometimes be new. I am never sad, but sometimes I'm blue. I am never empty, but am sometimes full. I will never push, but I always pull. What am I?"
You were so sure that you'd heard this one, but again, the answer just wouldn't come to you, and Edward could see you were beginning to struggle.
"Let's try a different one then. I know you're better than this, and besides that, I'd hate for you to leave empty handed."
You tried to push a convincing smile onto your face, hoping that his kindness would see you through.
"What can speak, but has no mouth. It can reproduce, but has no organs with which to do so?"
"I… I don't know, Eddie."
"Guess!"
"S…Silence… No… A River?"
"Not quite the right answer, unfortunately."
He watched as your face fell, only briefly, before you picked your mood back up when he continued to speak in a lighter, more gentle tone, the one that seemed to be reserved for you and you only.
"But I suppose, I can hardly reward you for getting something wrong, can I? So perhaps a punishment will be required after all."
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