Hi, call me Axe or Ax (Any pronouns are cool). I’m 20 for you folks that are wary of ageless blogs. This is a writing side account for my art blog AllKnowingAxolotl. I mostly repost stuff from my ao3, but I don’t know, maybe I’ll do a Drabble or two from time to time. Also check out my other writing account Long-Furby6, lots of headcanons on there (mostly Obey Me)
Please be mindful of my free time, as there is not a lot of it. Asking me to write a drabble is a free service, not a right. I enjoy writing drabbles and feel happy that you like my work, but while I try to get around to all of the requests I receive I may fall short.
I would like it if those not of legal age skip this blog, due to some of the content I post.
Feel free to hop in my askbox for any reason, I’m always open to chat! I will take requests, you can find my rules here! <3
CURRENT INBOX:
17 Requests
1 Paid Comm
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
**I occasionally mess up a link. Let me know if I do!
Sorry for the recent overhaul of this I deadass surpassed the tumblr link limit so I made seperate masterlists to hopefully quell that
Imagine that in Till Death Do Us Part, Mammon still has nightmares about Mc’s death. That moment continues to haunt him despite everything, in his daily life, at any time. That moment comes back to him at the most unexpected times.
He woke up with a start, his body drenched in cold sweat. He was disoriented, still haunted by the image of Mc’s lifeless body in his arms. He could feel their bodies growing cold. Desperately, he scanned the room, every second piercing his chest like a dagger.
“Mammon?”
Beside him, the human was rubbing their eyes. They were there, in their bed, and his whole body relaxed. His heart began to beat again, and the calm was so profound that his eyes filled with tears. Mc sat up, now worried.
“Mammon? What’s wrong?”
He clung to the one who was now his spouse, trembling and still breathing unevenly. Mc didn’t dare say anything else; they simply stroked his back, trying to calm him down.
“You’re here…”
“I’m here”
A violent tremor accompanied by tears streaming down his face in sheer relief.
“You’re really here”
Mc felt the demon’s hands clinging tighter to their clothes, to the point where they could feel his nails, every muscle still tense. That embrace wasn’t just a hug, it was a desperate cry for help. The human tightened their own embrace.
“I'm here, Mammon, in our bed, in our bedroom”
They placed their hand on the demon’s face, forcing him to look at them; his beautiful blue eyes were reddened.
“In our home”
Mammon closed his eyes and nodded as he felt Mc’s skin against his own, contrasting with the cold metal of the ring he wore, a contrast that told him he was truly awake. It had all been a dream, a bad dream… again.
The lifeless body from his dream held him tightly; it was warm, warmer than ever, and the blood coursing through its veins filled it completely, driven by a heartbeat that matched his own. Mc was there beside him, his face buried in their chest, the sensations of that horrible nightmare fading into the depths of his consciousness.
He would never forget that, the terror, the horror, the panic, and the sadness would accompany him until the end of his days. But he would make sure he never experienced anything like that again; he would make sure to protect Mc with his life.
“I love you"
“Me too, Mammon. I love you”
They remained embraced, saying nothing, letting their breathing and their heartbeats be the only sounds to break the silence, until they fell asleep as the moon’s position marked the beginning of the day in the Devildom.
Finding yourself on the run from a battered and bleeding Harlequin, you find yourself with two options; lose, or fight back. You were very glad you had the foresight to bring a knife.
Warnings: Smut, Gender-Neutral Reader (No Anatomy Specified), No Clear Dom (mutual tearing each other to shreds), Knifeplay, Chasing, Biting, Blood, Stabbing, Sadism, Oral Sex, Tentacles, He has two dicks, Marking, Jealousy, Scratching, Mentions of past sex
Note: While this does reference the previous two chapters, it can be enjoyed on its own!
Original Ao3 Link
The sound of puddles splashing underfoot rang in your ears as you weaved around old props, your body protesting with each beat of your soles against the ground. You knew you were still bleeding and exhausted, but so was your pursuer, who was almost eerily silent behind you save for the occasional wheezing breath and stumble. You thanked anything that could be listening that he was in far worse shape than you were, or this would hardly be a chase at all.
There was an inevitability to it, the knowledge that eventually, one of you would falter enough for the other to get the upper hand. You didn’t even know why you were playing along. You could’ve easily told him you wouldn’t be indulging him that night, and he likely would’ve just scoffed and called you no fun. He wouldn’t kill you. At least, you don’t think he would, given the obvious consequences of such an action, already written all over him in bloody slashes.
Or maybe you were giving him too much grace.
The chance was never zero. So you continued running, squinting your eyes against the now far more treacherous downpour of rain. You could barely see where you were going, barely cared, chest burning with pain at the panicked exertion.
You wouldn’t last much longer, and what was behind you felt much, much closer now. He was gaining on you, slowly and steadily, despite the sorry state of his body. You had to think of something, and quickly. Hiding would be pointless, he’d see you. Continuing to run just meant letting him win, he’d catch you. What could you do, other than use his weakened state to your advantage?
You shoved a hand into your pocket, flicking open the folding knife. It was flimsy, but it was probably the only thing you had that might help you in a situation like this. You kept your grip on it tight, feeling a bit of renewed energy as you felt claws reach out, nicking the fabric of your jacket. You whipped around to face him, grabbing the wrist of his outstretched hand.
You caught a glimpse of abject shock on his face as he barreled into you, not having enough time to properly react. You were immediately knocked off your feet, the world for a moment becoming a blur of limbs and bright chartreuse. You felt your back hit the ground with a cold scraping pain, then the sound of a pained hiss as your knife made contact somewhere you couldn’t quite tell. You slashed it wildly, eventually feeling it split something apart. You dug your nails into the wrist you had your grip on, struggling this way and that. He made an attempt at pinning you, but you threw a leg around his waist, using it as leverage to flip him over.
Blood seeped through rain-soaked clothing as your shared panting breaths filled the air. You felt another sharp pang of pain in your side, realizing that in the adrenaline-filled scuffle you hadn’t processed the tearing feeling of claws just below your ribs. You blinked water out of your eyes, unsure of whether it was tears brought about by injury or rainwater. You heard a loud, pained cough from beneath you, and you snapped your attention down to the monster beneath you. Your knife was embedded in the left side of his chest, splitting the fabric of the overcoat you had brought back to him. You felt a brief flash of panic, as if this were a human being you had just accidentally killed. But he was not, so instead of a dying breath, Harlequin let out a raspy groan.
“Ah, great. Now my clothes are all wet.” He twisted his face from a pained wince to a crooked smile. “You wouldn’t mind taking them off, would you, my hauntingly lovely dear?”
He was casual, too casual, while you were still buzzing all over with the realization that you had just stabbed someone. You took a moment to catch your breath, your body slowly winding down from the pain of the chase. Your eyes fixed onto the handle of the knife, and you shifted it, feeling him jolt beneath you, inadvertently pressing his body against yours more with the pained flinch. You were straddling him, keeping him down on the ground, and he was far from in the right state to get the upper hand now. “How about I cut it off you instead?”
“How very romantic of you. You must be basking in your victory, aren’t you?” His voice dropped low, dangerous. “But Pierrot hits harder than you do.”
You grimaced, shoving the knife as far as it could go, making blood gurgle out around the serrated metal. He let out a sound not unlike the one a kicked dog would make, free hand darting out to encircle around the handle of the small knife.
“Oh, touched a nerve? You really do want to hurt me, sadistic thing.”
“This is self-defence.” You countered, tightening your hold on the knife, expecting him to try and wrench it out of your grasp. But that struggle never came, instead, he just rested his hand over yours on the handle. You narrowed your eyes down at him. “You jumped at me.”
“Astute observation.” He said with a mocking lilt to his voice. “Did you bring that pretty little knife just for me?”
He spoke, but you were a little distracted, eyes focused in on where fresh blood was spreading out over the fabric of his clothing. You let out a long breath, heart pounding in your ears. You managed to do some serious-looking damage. To him! A creature far beyond the scope of what you ever imagined you’d experience. Beyond the fear and the self-preserving instinct, there was a bit of… you didn’t know what to call it. Satisfaction? Similar to the feeling of seeing Pierrot drop to his knees before you, but different. That was a gentle satisfaction, but this was something darker, sharper.
You weren’t sure if it was better or worse. Pierrot willingly sacrificed himself. He’d take your hand and place the blade against his own neck out of pure devotion alone. But Harlequin…?
His hand around yours on the handle suddenly pressed down, claws digging just a little into your skin, not enough to break it just yet. You snapped your focus back up, where his wet curls clung to his forehead and cheeks, framing his grinning face.
“Getting distracted, are we, dear one?” Pinpricks of pain shot up your arm. “Answer.”
You sharply inhaled, trying to keep your voice calm. You were cold, soaked, and aching all over, but so was he. And that brought you some twisted sort of comfort. “It wasn’t just for you. It was general defense.”
“Hm… that hurts me, you know.” His voice was strained, an uncharacteristic shake to it. He looked completely spent, drained both in body and mind. “So now what? You’ve got your claws in me… will you sink them down further, or will you pull back?” He sat up as much as he could with you straddling him, grimacing in pain when the knife shifted with the movement. His toothy smile mere inches from your lips now. “Oh, my dangerous dear… You don’t know how lucky you are that I’m a little under the weather, do you?”
You yanked out the knife, tearing a strangled gasp from his throat. Despite the situation, the sound sent a strange thrill through you. “What would happen otherwise?”
“For starters,” He let out a raspy breath when you pressed the flat of the knife to his throat, the sharp edge resting just under his jaw. His head tilted back in an instinctual attempt to avoid it. “You wouldn’t have needed to run for so long.”
“…Right.” You shivered at the thought, and he chuckled, leaning even closer, not even flinching when the knife pressed into his skin.
“Then, I’d make sure to mark you in a way he couldn’t cover up if he tried.” He dragged the edge of his bloodied claw over the ring of teeth marks on your neck, the place where earlier that very evening, Pierrot had bitten down. “Such a shame… you look so beautiful with my mark alone on you. Nonetheless, a pretty neck… even with traces of him still present, it’s almost begging to be touched. I could give that to you, gladly.”
You maneuvered the knife, forcing him to lean back with each prod. He laughed, raising that hand in mock defence.
“Aw, you don’t have to look at me like that, though I do adore your eyes.” His throat bobbed beneath the edge of your knife, his body reacting to it even if his voice remained relatively unbothered, or as much as it could be when hoarse with pain. “You’re thinking much the same depraved things as I am, aren’t you?”
“Like what, exactly?”
“You’re wondering how much I can handle.” His voice was a low purr, definitively smug even in its strained cadence. His eyes flickered down to the knife at his throat. “If you could really do some serious damage to me. I wonder… is it my limits you want to test? Or the limits of my kind in our entirety? Do you want to use that little knife to uncover us, dear one? To slice away the mask and reveal what’s beneath, no matter how monstrous it may be?” He gave a low, rumbling laugh, hands running up to your waist, ghosting over the newer slash in your side. He looked worse than before, eyes almost winced shut, each word hissed through his teeth as his chest heaved. His hips pressed up into yours just slightly, but the message was clear. He was just itching to rock up into you, to take his pleasure where he could find it. “You know what they say about curiosity and the cat, right?”
“Harle–”
“Do it.” He ordered, digging the sharpened ends of his gloves into the edge of your wound. You stifled a gasp, biting your lip so that sharp shot of pain wouldn’t be vocalized. He sounded far less teasing and much more menacing now, tilting his head back to give you better access to his neck. “It might be your only chance, you know.”
You hesitated, body locking up. You did feel satisfaction at taking him down, and there was certainly joy to be had in seeing him bleed, but a look into those narrowed eyes made that fade away slightly. This was going beyond harmless fun, and you both knew it. He was challenging you, testing you in some way, daring you to go through with a despicable act just to see if you could. “Why?”
He seemed a little irritated that you didn’t immediately comply, his claws digging in a little further as he spoke. “Because otherwise… I’ll heal up, and I won’t be the one pinned to the ground anymore.”
That wasn’t an answer at all. Your grip tightened on the handle, weighing your options. You could easily take the bait he’d so graciously left out, watch your knife split the skin of his throat all the way down to his collarbone, just as revenge for the various scratches he had left on you. But the way he asked… the bad shape he was already in… the way every moment he spent with you seemed to involve injury…
Was the only way he knew how to express himself through his claws? You trailed your knife down over his adam’s apple, resting against his windpipe for a moment. His breath hitched beneath you, his claws digging into you as if barely restraining himself from tearing into your flesh. You weighed your options, caught between grinding down, stabbing, running…
“Are you really hesitating? Aww, poor thing… or are you just stalling to tease me?” His words were shot through with laughter, a low, mocking lilt to his voice as he drew out every syllable. “Shall I take that knife from you and show you how it’s really done? I’ll make sure not a scrap of clothing is left when I’m done.” One of his claws dipped under the collar of your shirt, pulling it taut and letting it go once more. “Right out in the open, bare skin exposed to the relentless beat of rain… Wouldn’t you just look precious?”
You came to your decision rather quickly, nicking his skin with the knife. Not stabbing down like before, but certainly enough for him to feel it. He watched your hand closely as you moved it down to the collar of his outfit. “Do you have other clothing?”
He blinked, then burst out laughing, grabbing your wrist and pushing the knife down into the fabric, splitting it apart. “Don’t worry, you won’t leave me stranded, sweetheart. I’ve got a replacement.” He reassured, gripping you a little tighter as he moved the knife lower, cutting fabric apart as he went. “You, on the other hand… You might be a little out of luck, dear one. And no one, especially no meddling Pierrot, will be coming to save you.”
Your eyes widened as the knife exposed what hid beneath, but before you could even process it, you were pulled into a kiss, your lips crashing into his with wild abandon. There was no build up or romance, just his needlepoint teeth pulling your bottom lip between them, and the various tentacle-like appendages that snaked around your waist, pulling you a little closer as he groaned into the kiss.
You kept your grip firm on the knife as it glided ever downwards, exposing him all the way down to the dip of his lower abdomen. You couldn’t see it with the way he kept you locked against him, a cold, calculated feel to each kiss as he pulled away just to drag you back in again. There was something dizzying about his taste, the same acidic one you had noted the night previous. It really was like venom, in a way, invading every sense you had. You ripped yourself away from him, hearing him let out a loud, satisfied sigh, a sleazy grin sitting lop-sided on his face. Strangely enough, you didn’t taste any blood. He hadn’t chosen to bite down?
You had more pressing things to worry about at the moment. For example, trying to make sense of his winding, eldritch body. If there was a human torso somewhere in there, you couldn’t make it out through the darkness of the night and the darker sheen of that which coiled around the both of you. So this is what you were feeling last night, keeping your legs apart as his tongue greedily tasted between them. You immediately tried to scour each one, looking for any sign of a bite mark, getting a little disappointed when you didn’t find a hint of one. However, you did see a few half-healed slashes. A satisfying sight, sure, but you’d have to do far more damage to see any real effect on him.
You didn’t exactly want to unpack why you felt the need to affect him so badly. Luckily, you didn’t have to dwell on it long, for Harlequin was bringing your hand up by the wrist he was holding, pressing a mockingly chivalrous kiss to it before dragging his tongue up the flat side of the blade.
“No one to save you… but something tells me you don’t really want to be saved, do you?”
“Well, am I in danger?”
His grin grew imperceptibly wider. “Oh, you have no idea.”
You watched him closely. Despite his confident voice, he looked bedraggled, soaked and wounded, lewdly exposing his inhuman features like it was nothing to him. That snake like tongue ran over his bottom lip, the split tips flicking out as if tasting the rain in the air between you. Before it could retreat, you took the long tongue between your fingers, feeling its alien, smooth surface. He jerked, giving you a mildly disgruntled look before he seemed to realize what you were doing, and the tip of that tongue wound around your fingers, completely prehensile. You sucked in a breath, suddenly flooded with memories from last night, where he had knelt between your legs.
He slowly pulled his tongue back, a smug, satisfied look on his face. “My my… Someone’s imagining something, aren’t they? Adorable.”
The thought crossed your mind of just moving up a little, taking advantage of your position to ride his face. But those tendrils of his had begun to wind beneath your upper layers, tracing one of the thick scratch wounds Pierrot had left behind. You braced yourself against him with the slight pain, hand against his chest.
“I must admit… I certainly am imagining.”
“Oh? Please, enlighten me, dear one. What’s happening in those wicked little fantasies of yours?” A low chuckle tumbled from his lips as he tilted his head back, looking up at you expectantly. “I promise you, whatever lewd version of me you conjured in your pretty head won’t hold a candle to the real thing. Want to test it?”
Now that most of those strange appendages were either grabbing at your thighs or sliding beneath fabric, more of the body beneath was exposed, revealing something a bit more familiar. His bare skin was shot through with wounds, the largest of which sat right where a human’s heart would be. You brushed your thumb against the edge of that wound, realizing it was the one you had made with your own knife earlier.
No longer covered by clothing, it was pronounced, and the sight was… God, what was this? It was morbid, but seeing physical evidence of you on him, visual confirmation that you had made him feel… You swallowed, pressing down on the tender skin around the wound, feeling him flinch beneath you.
“Careful.” He warned. “I may take that as an invitation to leave a couple more marks myself.”
“Why are you so determined to make me pass out from blood loss?”
“Hey now! This here was an accident.” He gently tapped the scratch he left on your side in the scuffle. “What was it you said before? ‘Self-defence’?”
“That definitely was not self-defence.” You dug your fingers into the wound, making him rasp. “You don’t feel threatened by me.”
“And who are you to say that? I am very threatened. A few more of those sweet touches may just put me in an early grave.” He grabbed the wrist of the hand you had on the wound, moving it lower to brush over the now very obvious tent in his pants. You raised your brows, and he laughed, cocking his head to the side. “Word of warning, dear one… I might not be what you expect.”
After having Pierrot flat out deny you any sight of him, you could admit that this offer was a little enticing. There was that innate human curiosity to try and understand what you were dealing with, and if he was inhuman to the point of having those strange tentacles, what else was he hiding? You looked over his body, taking in every inch of exposed skin.
“Ah, that wandering, wanting gaze… Your curiosity betrays you, my darling. It aches to experience me, doesn’t it?” He gave a low chuckle, a hand coming up to tug off his hat, revealing the outline of…horns? “Don’t be shy, sate yourself. I’m all yours tonight, isn’t that wonderful?”
You couldn’t respond, a little taken aback by the sight. There they were, embedded between dark curls, clear as day. You set your knife down on the grass, easily in reach in case you needed it again, and reached up to feel over one of those horns. The surface was smooth at first, but as you moved downward, it got rougher. “Holy shit…”
He shook out his head, leaning into your touch as you reached the base. “Mm…” He let out a low, pleased hum, closing his eyes for a moment. “You have a way with your hands, dear one. Makes me want to keep them all to myself.”
“Greedy.” You went to draw your hand back, but he grabbed your wrist, keeping it against the horn, bumping into it in a strangely feline-like motion. You clicked your tongue, but obliged, scratching his scalp around the base of one of them. He let out another one of those pleased sounds, his hips bucking up against yours. You must admit, seeing more of his inhuman parts only made your curiosity that much stronger. You wanted to unravel him, to remove the last scraps of clothing that covered his body, to uncover whatever monstrous thing laid beneath that mask. You traced a finger all the way up to the tip of that horn, feeling his body tense and release beneath you. “Do you like that?”
“Do you really have to ask? Or do you just want me to say it?” He undid the buttons of his lower layers, slowly sliding down the cloth of his pants. “Well, then. I’ll indulge you. I do like it.” Your eyes snapped down as he revealed more and more.
He had two. You took a double take, making sure you were seeing things right, and you were, clear as day. He let out a low, smooth chuckle, amused at your surprise. “Are you imagining how it would feel? I can tell you right now… it won’t be like anything you’ve ever felt before.” His two cocks pressed against your thigh through the fabric separating you. The rain had soaked your clothing, making it stick uncomfortably to your skin. But it also meant that each rock of his hips up against your thigh was felt all the more poignantly. He did not bother with hiding himself, so you couldn’t help but leer a little, studying every inhuman part of him he had laid bare all for you. “How about we skip any further pleasantries? I bore of this foreplay. Let me have you, touch you like he never could.”
“Settle down.” You said sternly, taking his chin in your hand and jerking his head to the side, exposing his pale neck. He let out an animalistic, snake-like hissing sound in response, but his grin didn’t fade as he eyed you.
“Or what? Will that anger you? Will it make you want to punish me?” He seemed amused at the idea. “How would you do it, then? Put a couple more stab wounds in my chest?”
“Do you even like getting hurt? Or are you letting me do it just because…” You trailed off, unsure of how to end that sentence.
“Are you asking if I am a masochist?” He raised his brows. “Very forward of you.”
“Well, are you?”
“I’m going to have you all to myself.” He said slowly, a silky-voiced promise. “I don’t care what I have to do to keep those beautiful eyes on me. And besides… that little knife of yours? Barely hurt more than a paper cut.”
You bit down on the exposed slope of his throat, making him let out an uncharacteristic squeak of pain. His cocks twitched against your thigh as his skin yielded beneath you, the addicting taste of that acid-blood hitting your tongue once more. A long breath escaped him, fanning over your ear as you pulled off to admire your work. He kept his head to the side, allowing you to slightly apologetically kiss over the wound. “So, that didn’t hurt, did it?”
You expected him to jump to teasing you, but instead, he remained silent for a moment, seemingly in contemplation. Then, he let out a half-scoff, half-laugh, one of those tendrils slipping just barely under your waistband, sliding beneath the fabric to gain access to your hip. “Do you know how we monsters court each other?”
Your interest was piqued. “How?”
“Nothing as complicated as you humans have.” He chuckled, gliding a clawed hand up your spine, settling it gently on the back of your head before forcefully yanking you back down to his neck. “By marking. So keep showing off that desire you have, that flame within you that burns for me.”
The realization hit you all at once. It wasn’t about the pain for him when he allowed you to bite at him, but the idea of you wanting him. Considering how desperate he was to take you away from Pierrot, it must be some sort of compulsion for him? A burning need to have you look his way? Maybe was just jealous by his very nature, always reaching for what he couldn’t grasp. But this time, he could grasp you. His hands were on you right now, pulling you against his neck, with those tendrils brushing teasingly over your most sensitive areas below your belt. A jolt of arousal hit you as that curious thing began to rub, up and down right where it counted. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, the warmth of the bleeding wound against your cheek as his hand stroked down to the base of your neck, then back up to the top of your head in an oddly soothing motion, a low ‘shhh’ falling from his lips.
“Bite me again, dear one. Show me just how badly you want me.”
How could you refuse?
“If you say so.”
He laughed as you bit down again, just above the stab wound in his chest, an almost manic tinge to his words as he held you tighter, keeping you against him. “Oh, fuck! Let yourself go, dear one. Don’t take those pretty eyes off me for a second.” His hand ghosted over the nape of your neck as you lost yourself for a moment, licking over the teeth marks you left behind.
The rain had quieted down somewhat, but it still drizzled over you as your shirt was lifted by one of those tendrils. You shivered at the cold sensation of the droplets against your back, and he gave a low whistle. “Those are some serious marks on your skin.” One of the bites he had left last night was brushed over by that tendril. “Beautiful.”
“You really like seeing those on me, don’t you?”
“Very much so. You understand.”
Admittedly, you did. The tentacle-like appendage under the cloth of your pants suddenly pressed harder, moving faster. You grabbed onto one of his horns, using it as leverage and pushing his head down into the grass as your body ground down into that firm touch. He groaned at the feeling of his horn being pulled, and you made a note that it seemed as though the inhuman parts of him were rather sensitive. His hands rested on your hips, palms pressed over the scratches he left the previous night. You moved a hand between you, tracing it down his bare abdomen, all the way to the base of his two cocks. You couldn’t be the only one coming undone again, you wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction.
An idea crossed your mind.
You moved lower, breath fanning down his skin until your head was at his waist-level. The tendril stroking over you paused with the rest of him as he watched closely, confusion written over his face. You couldn’t help but grin at the feeling of managing to catch him off-guard once again.
“Now what do you think you’re doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
Now that his initial surprise was over, a devilish smile spread over his face, one of his hands moving to cup your cheek. “I was planning on letting you lie back and let me handle things… but if you’re so desperate, who am I to deny you what you want?”
That tendril began its work again, with no buildup or warning this time. You flinched, but that only strengthened your resolve. Somehow, it would feel like losing whatever game this was to finish first. You darted your tongue out to taste the tip of one of his cocks, your hand wrapping around the other. His hips pressed up, chasing your mouth as he let out a satisfied, purring breath.
“Oh, dear one… You look good like this. Very good.”
You flicked your eyes up to meet his. He had sat up a little, propped up on his elbows, his figure outlined by the barest hint of light sneaking in through the thick, dark rainclouds above. His gaze was hungry as you took him into your mouth, tongue tracing over the unfamiliar ridges and veins of his left cock while your hand steadily stroked his right.
“I could look at this all day.” His usually smooth voice was so breathy, still raspy from the pain he was no-doubt still in. The blood from the stab you left on him had run down his chest, all the way down to his waistline. Part of you wanted to pull off of him and lick up that winding trail before the rain washed it away, but you had to focus on your task. You sped up your strokes with your hand, but kept a steady, slow pace with your tongue, hoping that the conflicting stimuli would get to him quickly.
Harlequin was uncharacteristically silent for a while, and you realized he was biting at his own lip, letting only the occasional low groan slip out. You wondered if he was holding back his sounds. You wondered what you would have to do to draw them out, to let his moans and whines fill the air completely unbidden. Would you have to speed up? Slow down? Prolong things, or let them crash and burn? He was a puzzle you had not yet solved, but there was something you could try, an idea that could only work with a body like his.
You kept going until his hips stuttered against you and his mouth fell open in breathy whispers of your name. You sped up, feeling him get closer and closer, then, you took your hand off, but kept your tongue right where it was.
His body jolted, one of his cocks driven to orgasm while the other had its ruined. The tendril against your core quivered, making your own body get that much closer, but not yet. You pulled off just enough to lap at his tip, not giving him a rest from the stimulation while your other hand moved to continue its work on the other.
Before you could wrap around it, he batted that hand away, grabbing at the collar of your jacket and sternly yanking you off of him. You looked up at his face, and it was twisted in a mixture of emotions, the bliss of post-orgasm, the aching disappointment of an edge, and, of course, the anger at your stunt.
“Conniving little— You were waiting for that, weren’t you? Waiting to drive me to madness?” He hissed out, a weirdly impressed undertone to his otherwise irritated voice. “I wouldn’t have thought you capable of such a naughty scheme. I would do well to keep on my toes around a sadist like you.”
There was the accusation again. You grimaced up at him, slowly walking your fingers up his thigh, sneaking closer to his still-twitching, neglected cock again. “What? Is it too much for you to handle? I thought you said you’d be indulging all of my desires tonight.”
He couldn’t argue much with that, but he still gave you a disapproving glare, letting go of your collar. “Fine, then. Do as you will. Indulge yourself.” That tendril began to move at a brutal pace, another two sliding under your shirt again to coil around your waist and chest, thin tip flicking over one of your nipples. “Let’s see how long you can keep up your game.”
Your nails dug into his thigh, searching for any sort of purchase as your body lurched forward a little in response to the sudden stimulation. One look at his smug grin, and you knew you had to ramp things up further. You switched things up, taking the other cock into your mouth now, thumbing at the base of the other. He let out a much louder sound now, unrestrained as he was both overstimulated and edged at once.
Unfortunately, you felt yourself growing ever closer as this went on, making your movements slightly sloppy. You tried to keep your dizzying brain focused on him, but you had to admit, after being riled up so much with Pierrot earlier, it was much harder to keep a cool head when you were finally getting an outlet for your arousal. You almost miscalculated the time you had to pull off him to make sure one side of him stayed wanting, but luckily, you caught it just in time, making him let out a frustrated cry. He looked about ready to tear you to pieces as he glared down at you, the one tendril that wasn’t feeling up your body angrily flicking from side to side as you continued to stroke until you managed to get that overstimulated side to finish once more, right before you couldn’t hold back your own orgasm.
You mentally noted that he didn’t seem to have a refractory period. You basked in the satisfaction of getting him to cum twice before you did for a moment before he grabbed you by the face, claw digging into your cheek as he yanked you towards him, until you were mere centimetres from his face.
“Finish what you started.” He warned, low and menacing. “Don’t make me ask you twice.”
You licked the residue of him off your lips, feeling a little dazed as you regarded his floundering expression. You wanted to go much further than this. You wanted to see him break, and you had a feeling you were so, so very close. You snickered tilting your head to the side. “Do you really want me to finish things so soon?”
“You better.” He grinned threateningly. “Unless you want me to show you what a proper wound feels like.”
“Are you seriously threatening to stab me if I don’t let you cum?”
“Do you want to take the chance?”
“I don’t know…” You drew out your words teasingly. “Pierrot handled way more times than that.”
His eyes narrowed, his grip on your face tightening painfully. You let out a slightly hurt sound before you could stop yourself.
“Oh, did he now?” He thought for a moment, leaning back from you and placing his other hand contemplatively on his chin. His tendrils retracted, giving you some reprieve. “So you had some fun with him as well, then. And yet you still chose to accept me…?” He thought over that for a moment, brows twitching in what seemed like confusion. “Well then, Pierrot might be willing to put up with whatever nonsense you put him through, but I am no obedient dog that would brave its master’s kick for the mere chance of a pet.”
“And yet…” You raised a hand, tracing it over that stab wound on his chest.
“And yet, I allowed you to mark me.” He finished your sentence, leaning in so close you could feel the breath of every word on your cheek. “That I did.”
“So how is this different?”
“Mm… I don’t feel like elaborating.” He deflected, maneuvering your head to force you to look back down at his cocks. “Don’t make me wait a second longer.”
You hesitated, thinking for a long moment. “...Maybe if you say please?”
He gave you a scathing look, and you laughed, raising your hands in mock defence. You longed to double down and force him to beg, but honestly, you doubted anything would come of that. It would just frustrate him, perhaps even drive him off, and that was the last thing you needed at the moment.
“Alright, alright. Since you’re so desperate… I’ll let you have this. You wrapped a hand around that twice-edged cock, starting a brutally slow pace. He closed his eyes, mouth twitching at the corners at the hollow victory. “But I’ll make it agonizing nonetheless."
“Tease.” He clicked his tongue, fingers tapping wildly against your arm in an attempt to calm himself as you kept up those meandering motions. You drew your hand all the way up, stopping to circle the barest hint of touch around his tip before moving back down, just to feel it throb pathetically under your touch. He let go of your jaw, and immediately got to attacking your neck, kissing down to your collarbone just above the hem-line of your shirt, lips pressing over your windpipe, teeth grazing over your skin but not biting down. Your free hand came up to entangle in his hair, brushing over the sensitive base of his horns. He nipped at the crook of your neck, but didn’t break your skin.
“Taking pity on me?” You mused. He huffed, biting down a tad harder just below the previous two bites.
“Can’t have you passing out from blood loss.” He moved up to press a few more heated kisses to your jaw, working his way up to just under your ear. “So fragile… So I’ll play nice.”
You grabbed onto one of his horns, yanking his head back. He let out a slightly surprised sound, giving you a dirty look. But given the way his hips tried to buck up into your hand, he clearly didn’t mind that motion all that much. You sped up, taking the knife you had discarded earlier to press it up against his throat just to keep it there.
“You’re so reactive.” He purred, tilting his head to the side as the blade grazed over one of the bite marks you had left on him. “One wrong word and you’ll stab me again, hm? And you won’t be able to play the ‘self-defence’ card this time.”
“It’s defense against your false accusations."
“Sure.” His voice came out on a ragged breath, his chest heaving as you continued your strokes. You slowed back down to a languid pace, all the way up and down with each jerk of your hand. “C’mere.”
You didn’t have much time to process the request before he dragged you into another kiss. It was a far worse one than before, his movements rendered feverish and sloppy with how close he was. Still, it sent another pleasurable rush through you as you pushed him back to lie flat on the ground with you over top of him, finally pushing him over the edge as he came, sighing into your lips as he did so.
You broke the kiss, finally mustering up the strength to push yourself off him, looking down at his battered form beneath you. To your surprise, several of the stab wounds he had earlier were almost fully closed, with the exception of the one you had recently made in his chest, still fresh and bleeding. A pang of sudden jealousy hit you as the ache from your own wounds racked your body, knowing you’d be dealing with some of them for weeks at the least.
Hell, they might even scar. You shivered at the thought, and Harlequin smoothed out his torn clothing, hands moving down to hold your hips as he sat up. “I must say, you are something to behold like this, dear one. Basking in the aftermath of what I’ve done to you…”
“Do you have bandages?”
He stopped in his tracks, blinking in surprise. “Come again?”
“Extra clothes? Anything like that?” You gestured vaguely at the sorry state you were in. “I’m not going back looking like this.”
He remained paused for a moment, before giving a low, broken-up laugh, as if he couldn’t even believe your words. “You’re asking me?”
“Not like I have many options.”
“True, that. But bold nonetheless. Very bold.” He took a second to glance over your body while he fixed as much of his clothing as he could, his upper layers almost entirely torn to shreds, but his pants intact enough to at least cover himself. “And why not go out like this? I think you look quite ravishing. Those bloodstains really bring out those pretty eyes of yours.”
You resisted the urge to stab him again, leaning back a little, dragging your sleeve across your face in a futile attempt to wipe off some of the rain, only for more to pour down. You had to at least get into some sort of shelter before you got hypothermia on top of everything else. And what around you was warm other than… Ah, you were far too tired at the moment to care. “If you can’t do that, serve me some other way, then?”
He raised his brows, but didn’t have any time to say anything back before you released his wrist, instead catching his hand, entwining your fingers together in a startlingly soft gesture. He froze, his head tilting to the side with a mix of surprise and confusion on his face.
“What are you doing–?”
You collapsed down on top of him, your head settling into the crook of his neck. He let out an uncharacteristic pained huff as your weight landed on his injured chest. Rain battered your back from above, but he was warm against you, and warmer was the blood between you, both yours and his.
“What do you think I’m doing? I think both of us have had far too much blood loss tonight. We both need the rest.”
He was silent, completely tensed up beneath you. Your hand, interlocked with his, pressed it down to the grass below, while his other arm laid uselessly beside him, hovering as if unsure of what to do. He was so confident with a knife stuck in his chest, but now that you were being affectionate, that seemed to unsettle him greatly. It was almost even more satisfying than inflicting a wound, to look up and see the slight horror on his face when you settled onto him. “Are you worried about me? Huh… how sweet.” He clicked his tongue in irritation, curling his fingers into the rain-soaked back of your jacket and giving it an expectant tug. “I hate sweets.”
You tensed, but didn’t move. Partially because you were exhausted and he was surprisingly comfortable, his body warm against your in the midst of the rain and the injury, but also because you were too far to back off now. Where would you even go? You couldn’t exactly waltz into the main circus area looking like you did now. He tugged a little harder at you not taking the queue.
“You can get off me now.”
“Or what?”
“Or what? Are you really asking that right now?” He spoke in utter disbelief. “You’re either very brave… or deathly stupid.”
“Take your pick. I have a feeling the outcome won’t change.” You pulled off him to meet his narrowed gaze. Your heart dropped at the sight of that steely expression, immediately feeling like you’d made a terrible mistake. He looked… strangely conflicted, one of those tentacles flicking this way and that like the tail of an irritated cat, while his eyes snapped around your body, as if looking for something, an answer, maybe. “What’s the matter? A stab wound is nothing to you but you’re afraid of a hug?”
You’d meant to lighten the situation with teasing, but it clearly did not land. He was silent for a moment, then hid his telling expression with a sleazy grin, fingertip weaving down your thigh. “You know, if you really want to touch me that bad, we can go again–”
“Keep talking like that, and I might start thinking that’s all you’re good for.” You cut him off with an edge to your tone, not bothering to hide your restless irritation, glancing about your surroundings. If he wasn’t going to help you, you needed to find someone who could before someone saw you, clothing half-torn and soaked in rain and blood. “But, I have to go. Pierrot’s show is likely finishing up soon… I should go to him.”
Everything about him sharpened at your dismissive words. His eyes fixed onto the mark on your neck, where his teeth had sunk in the day previous, now covered with a wound that was distinctly the shape of teeth that weren’t his own. The way his face twisted could almost be interpreted as hurt, but you hesitated to ascribe that word to him. Why would a man like Harlequin, who was pretty much pursuing you out of a need to one-up his rival, feel something like hurt over a simple observation?
“Alright, then. Run back to sweet Pierrot if that’s who that heart of yours cries for.” There was something more than his usual teasing mockery about his tone, even if he tried to hide it with a playful cadence. It seemed to be shot through with genuine venom, something like envy crawling through every word he hissed out. His hand darted to cover the mark on your neck, claw digging painfully into one of the indents left behind by Pierrot’s sharp teeth. The spark of pain made you grip the knife tighter, an urge beginning to take hold. “Don’t forget that I–”
He cut himself off with a shaky inhale as you brought the knife down, embedding it in the side of his neck. His eyes went wide as you hastily pulled it out again, letting blood run to the grass below.
He raised a hand to press over the new wound, then stared at his blood-soaked palm, as if in disbelief. You yourself were a little caught off-guard by your own actions, having not even thought about it before plunging the blade into his throat. Your heart pounded hard against your ribcage, roaring in your ears as the weight of what you had just did settled over you. It was self defence before, then it was indulging a request, but what was that just then? A way to get him to shut up? Or something more? Something you truly enjoyed? Was he right after all? You spoke hoarsely, shakily trying to remedy the situation. “I’m sorr–”
He was quick, much faster than any human being could possibly move as he flipped you over, shoving you down onto the grass, still warm from his body. Drops of blood fell from the new gash in his neck, one landing on the bridge of your nose, your cheek, winding down to the corner of your mouth as each one spread that now-familiar tingling feeling over your skin. He barked out a loud, almost manic laughter, more threatening than amused as his eyes flashed menacingly in the scarce light.
“Oh, I love that! Such utter cruelty from such a weak little thing.” His voice was a loud, sarcastic, mocking drawl, one of his clawed fingers coming up to press into the base of your neck, just below where Pierrot’s bite sat. Harlequin’s pupils were narrowed to pinpricks, focused and threatening, animalistic in their feverish, bitter intensity. “I should return the favour, right? An eye for an eye and all that.”
Your hands flew to his chest in an instinctual attempt to hold him off you, bracing for whatever might come next. “Wait, hold on–”
You cut yourself off this time when Harlequin was suddenly yanked away from you. Your eyes snapped up to the sight of a new force, your heart dropping at the anticipation of red–
The intruder wasn’t red.
Narrowed eyes looked down at you, appraising you while Harlequin was held back by the horn like a misbehaving kitten, his face twisted in a mix of surprise and anger. “Jester…” he spoke slowly, his tone somewhere between apologetic and annoyed.
Jester let go of him, and he lost his balance, tumbling back. “Is your show not starting soon, Harlequin?”
Harlequin opened his mouth, but closed it again, unable to retort.
“Go get changed.”
To your surprise, he didn’t protest. He slowly stood up, placing a hand on his chest and nodding slowly. He gave you one last look, and you couldn’t exactly decipher what he was thinking, but it seemed… concerned? Apologetic? His lips twitched down at the corners, his brows deeply furrowed. After a lingering moment, he grabbed his hat, hiding his horns and slinking slowly away. In his absence, Jester’s attention shifted elsewhere.
“Now, you.” His gaze slowly slid to meet yours. You tensed, shrinking back a little. “Dearest visitor, why is it that trouble seems to follow you like a shadow?”
You let out a morbidly amused huff at the question. “Ha… I wish I knew myself, to be honest.”
He chuckled in turn, resting a hand curiously on his chin, his smile not shifting an inch. “You’ve been a strange one from the moment you set foot in our domain. I wonder if you’ll turn out to be more trouble than you’re worth in time.”
You stayed silent, heart pounding in your chest. Strangely enough, even with his calm, friendly demeanor in comparison to the intensity you had come to expect out of Pierrot and Harlequin, he somehow unsettled you the most. There was an eerie stillness about him, like the dead quiet after a storm renders a landscape barren. You got the feeling you needed to tread carefully with him. You felt like one wrong twitch could spell a certain end.
“Still on the ground?” He bent at the waist, leaning in with a hand on his hip. “That can hardly be comfortable, can it?”
“Oh, right–”
“Get up.”
You slowly stood to find your legs were slightly shaky, sore from being on the ground for so long. Looking up at him, you almost flinched at the sight of his eyes, fixed onto you. You scratched the back of your neck, mind racing with any way to relieve even a little bit of the unbearably thick tension in the air. “So…”
“I believe explanations are best given behind closed doors, don’t you agree?” He spoke in a smooth, hauntingly calm tone, not giving you even a hint of what he was feeling. You swallowed, alarm bells sounding off in your head at the thought of going into a private area with him, but not wanting to confront him, you nodded. He, at the very least, seemed pleased at your agreement. “I am glad we are on the same page. I prefer all of our dear visitors to be amicable.”
You straightened out your astray clothing, thanking anything that was listening that Harlequin didn’t return your whole ‘tearing clothing’ stunt. “Where exactly do you want to talk?"
“Follow me, visitor. And don’t stray from my wake.”
You hesitated when he turned around, walking off behind one of the tents. You could run, maybe? No, you had a feeling that wouldn’t do much. You jogged a little to catch up to him, keeping behind his tall form. You couldn’t help but glance around nervously, as if there would be other people this far from the common area. You kept your head lowered, your vision swimming as your brain finally caught up to processing everything that just happened. You didn’t catch the colour of the tent you walked into, and the inside didn’t give much away. In fact, it seemed… oddly normal? It certainly wasn’t a performance tent. A few racks and dressers littered the room, was this storage? Jester strode inside confidently, turning to face you and curling a finger inwards to beckon you closer. You took one last look outside before letting the tent flap close behind you.
“Now then, mysterious visitor, might you explain why I found you tonight on the ground, stabbing one of our performers?”
You let out a slightly awkward laugh, not wanting to make eye contact with him. “He told me to.”
“Hm…” He leaned in a little closer, and you fought the urge to move away, staying in place as his eyes flicked over your face. He was studying you, and you were suddenly extremely aware of your… not so stellar state at the moment. God, you must look like a wreck. His gaze lingered just a little on your neck, and your hand moved up to cover the bite. He cocked his head to the side, a few strands of violet hair falling over his eyes. “Interesting… And you obeyed without question?”
You bristled, and he laughed, shaking his head.
“I only ask out of curiosity. I know how much your kind loves to give up control, and yet, you desperately cling to whatever scraps of autonomy you can find whenever you can. It is one of the many contradictions that make up humanity.” He stepped a little closer, his form tall and imposing. “I wonder which one you are, dearest visitor. Do you yearn to hold the chains, be ensnared by them, both, or neither? You’re sure to find out the answer during your time here, If you do not yet know yourself well enough to answer.”
You swallowed, instinctively moving back as he moved closer, leaning in so close you could catch the scent of something unexpectedly rich, like old parchment. His head cocked to the side, razor teeth on full display as he studied you. His eyes roved over you, but it wasn’t like the adoring gaze or the lustful leer of Pierrot or Harlequin, this was something else entirely. Unlike them, it was clear he had not yet come to a decision on you. This was appraising, considering. And that uncertainty of what he was thinking was far, far worse than anything those two could have thrown at you. The urge to break the tension was almost suffocating, electric and heavy in the air. You cleared your throat, a hand coming up to cover the visible bites on your neck. You knew he had long already noticed them, but you felt far too exposed with them in plain sight.
“...I think I already know my answer.”
“Oh, do you now?” He seemed to light up in intrigue, standing back up straight and resting a hand on his chin, long, clawed fingers partially obscuring his easy grin. “You may keep it to yourself if you wish. You’ve sated my curiosity for tonight. In that regard, that is. There’s still one more question I have on my mind.”
You wrapped your still-wet clothing tighter around yourself, trying to glean whatever scraps of warmth you could from it in the midst of your shivering. You were hesitant to reply, a little wary at the calculating look in his gaze. “And what would that be?”
He let out something between a laugh and a hum, turning from you and beginning to walk over to a stack of crates in the corner of the small tent. “That, I will keep to myself for now. I doubt you would be able to provide me with an answer even if I did bring it to you, it is something I will have to observe for myself.”
You furrowed your brows, wanting to pry further, but you felt it wouldn’t be wise to push him. Out of all the strange characters you had met thus far, he was perhaps the most unpredictable. You felt like you wanted to sink into the floor just at the thought of asking him for anything, but considering your predicament, you didn’t see much other choice.
“Does the circus perhaps… have extra clothing? That you would be willing to lend.” You cringed when he didn’t immediately respond, rummaging through one of those drawers. “I mean, if I go out like this, covered in blood and scratches, it might draw suspicion to your whole operation, would it not?”
“Indeed it would.” You caught a glimpse of fabric in his arms, pink in colour. “There are a few options here, both for me, and for you, dearest visitor.”
What happens when a repressed sadist catches the attention of certain, far more openly sadistic, inhuman creatures? Nothing good, that's what, and a lot of mutual bleeding.
You woke up the next morning with a leaden skull, your head groggy and sluggish. And the moment you shifted an inch, a hellfire sort of pain shot through your body. You went still, gritting your teeth as those various wounds began to ache once more. Slowly sitting up, you reached down, rubbing at those gouges in your hip. They were numerous, criss-crossing down your thighs, a few lines of dried red even snaking down to your calves. But strangely enough, they were all surface-level. It felt strange to think about Harlequin of all people restraining himself, but you had little other explanation for why those wounds weren’t far worse than they were currently. Your other hand came up to drag down your thoroughly bitten neck, tracing the ridges of each indent left behind by his teeth.
You hoped he was doing the same.
But, unfortunately, he wasn’t the one who had to worry about cleaning the blood off your sheets.
You groaned, rolling out of bed, only for your foot to step onto something far silkier than your flooring. You paused, looking down just to find that you were stepping onto Harlequin’s overcoat. Well… ‘coat’ probably wasn’t the right term, it was more of a short chasuble of some sort. He must have left it behind last night.
You glanced at the bedside table, where Harlequin’s ticket lay within, and Pierrot’s paper rose laid upon. You couldn’t dwell on all this for too long, though. You had work to get ready for, so you quickly went through the painfully normal motions, hiking up the collar of your top in an attempt to cover that bite mark. The knowledge that you would have to enter that circus again soon loomed over you every movement you made, Harlequin’s coat stuffed into your bag haphazardly. You sure as hell didn’t want to give him an easy excuse to break into your house again, so you’d shove it into his hands the next chance you got, hopefully not with any yellow eyes watching. You went for the door handle, then hesitated, turning around to slip a knife into your pocket before leaving. A small folding knife, sure, but it provided some semblance of comfort.
For once, work was welcome. It took your mind off of the precarious situation you were in, and the possible outcomes of walking back into that circus.
It was later than usual this time, almost at the end of your shift, when it happened. The jangle of the door opening was followed by the soft sound of bells, and the sight of bright red in the corner of your eye. You steeled yourself as you turned around to meet Pierrot, his smile widening when your eyes met his.
Despite everything, it was good to see him, you supposed. He had a bright, excited expression on his face as he came up to you. You leaned over the counter a little to greet him.
“Pierrot, hi!”
He cocked his head to the side, his smile widening at the sound of your voice.
“Would you like the same thing as before? A milkshake?”
He placed a hand on his chest, nodding.
“Alright, just one moment!” You were glad things were a little slow at the moment, nobody in line behind Pierrot, and only a few patrons littering the tables, clearly trying not to stare at the brightly-dressed performer in the middle of the shop. You prepared the milkshake, sliding it over to him. He took it happily, taking a long sip through the straw.
“Is it to your liking?”
He looked around to see if anyone was nearby, then gestured for you to come closer. You placed both hands on the counter to support yourself as you leaned closer so he could whisper to you, his cheek brushing against yours. He spoke under his breath.
“Perfect. Thank you, my dear.”
“Anytime.” You chuckled, a little self-conscious about the stares you must be drawing being this physically close to him.
“Will you come to the circus tonight?”
You froze for a moment, tensing before you nodded. “You said that’s the safest option, right?”
He let out a little sigh, but agreed. “…It is. I’ll make sure of it.” He pulled back to look you in the eyes.
“…Right.” You gave a slightly nervous laugh, your pulse quickening just thinking about walking into that den of vipers again. “I’ll come to watch your show first.”
“That makes me happy, my dearest.” He suddenly paused, eyes fixed onto something. They were wide, a few strands of pale hair falling over them, casting shadows over his contracted, focused pupils. You felt the urge to step back, but kept yourself in place, heart pounding.
“Uh… do I have something on my shirt?”
His hand slowly reached out, a clawed fingertip brushing just barely against the skin of your neck. You froze, body tensing as you realized what he had seen. Your collar had slipped down while working, revealing the bite mark you had hidden beneath.
“Ah–” You reached up a hand, but before you could cover the mark, he pressed his hand against that mark, leaning in to whisper in your ear so no prying ears could catch his voice. His tone wavered, but it was less out of nervousness this time, and more out of something dangerous, barely concealed.
“Someone marked you?”
You scrambled for an answer that didn’t result in immediate carnage. “Oh, uh— It’s a cat bite. There’s a big stray outside. It got my boss too the other day, I think.”
He stared at it, eyes narrowing before he pulled back, giving you a silly expression. But his smile was too tight, his eyes too sharp no matter how much effort he put into softening them.
You wanted to be relieved that he seemed to buy it, but you couldn’t. That expression on his face left a sick feeling in your stomach, that pit that told you something horrid was about to happen. You tried to change the subject, pulling up your collar to hide the bite mark again. “I’ll see you at the circus tonight, then?”
He nodded, leaving a rather generous tip before walking out with his milkshake in hand. You could see a tenseness about him that wasn’t there before, an almost urgent quality to the way he moved. You released your grip on the counter when he was out of sight, letting out a breath. You’d certainly have to deal with this later, but for now, you were just happy you were in the ‘eye of calm’ part of the storm.
You finished up your shift about an hour later, closing up before heading out into the dark streets. The circus loomed ominous in the distance, right on the outskirts of town. You felt sick with anxiety with each step you took, your mind imagining how things might end up again and again, and rarely were they good.
The circus was about the same as it always was, enigmatic and nerve-wracking. You just barely avoided the prying eyes of the Ticket Taker as you moved through, and you felt his mismatched eyes linger on you far too long as you beelined for Pierrot’s tent. His show was far from starting, but you needed to see him after all that happened today.
You slinked around the tent, trying to remain unseen as you approached the entrance. You wanted to just try and poke your head inside, but a black glove shot out, taking your arm and pulling you into them. You almost yelped in surprise as you were dragged into the tent, the flaps closed behind you. He seemed far more frantic than usual as he pulled you inside, onto the stage floor in the centre of the tent. It was secluded by bleachers on all sides, out of sight from the door.
“Pierrot, Jesus Christ—“ You cursed, wriggling out of his grip to see him properly. “Is something wrong? Are you okay?
The tent was dark, lit with only a few pale yellow lights. They reflected off of Pierrot’s mask, illuminating the sight of… what the hell even was that? Something was staining him, smeared across his cheek, down to his lips. You realized something was seeping into the fabric of your clothing where his hands gripped. He spoke your name, one of those hands, dripping with that something, coming up to your neck, parting the collar of your outfit in order to press his fingertips against the bite wound at your neck.
“Pierrot, is that blood?! Are you covered in blood right now?”
He completely ignored you, focusing in on that bite. “I… I thought it could have been mine, at first. That maybe I lost myself in a moment I don’t remember, but that couldn’t be. I remember every second we spend together like it happened moments ago, my dear. It isn’t mine.” His hands shook as they traced the edges of the bite mark on your throat, as if he was just barely restraining himself. “He did this.”
You almost flinched at the sheer hatred in his voice, hissed out through his teeth with scathing intensity. You had initially thought the blood was his own, but now… You tried to keep your voice quiet and unnaccusatory. “The blood… is it Harelquin’s?”
He reached up with his free hand, gingerly touching his bloodied cheek, the dry liquid flaking off under his claws. His golden pupils were narrowed to mere pinpricks, and he looked off to the side, as if he didn’t want to admit it in front of you. “…I did what had to be done.”
“Pierrot—“
“How many more are there?” His eyes snapped back to yours, going from anger to worry. His hands roamed your body, not out of the desire to feel it, but frantically, fearful of what they might find. “How many times has he put his mark on you?” His voice quavered. You hesitated, heart pounding out of your ribcage. If the sight of one bite had him acting like this… revealing any more felt like walking right into a laid beartrap.
Your eyes flicked from his face to where his hands were searching you, your mind spinning with conflicting thoughts. His words were… sweet, in some sort of twisted way, but they were also dangerous. Very dangerous. Harlequin’s warning from last night replayed in your head. ‘I’m not the liar of the two of us’. ‘I’m not the liar of the two of us’. Were you just choosing the pretty lie over the ugly truth? And– oh god, Harlequin. Pierrot’s face was still stained with what was almost certainly his blood. He was a sneaky, sadistic bastard… But had you inadvertently put him into an early grave by simply indulging him?
Pierrot seemed to notice you staring at the blood, and his face soured, his other hand coming up to wipe at the stain. “...He’s fine.”
You wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, but refrained, instead trying to deflect. “Ah– I wasn’t…”
“You were concerned for him. And that is… natural for you.” It seemed to strain him greatly to admit so. “Your kindness… It is what sparked this flame within me from the start. Though believe me, I despise seeing it be sorely wasted on the likes of him. I’d much prefer it if you spent it on me. Like you did when you first held out that bandage to me. Do you remember?”
“It only happened a couple of days ago.”
“What a beautiful moment…” His voice went a little whispery. He curled his fingers around your possessively, bringing your hand up and placing a lingering kiss to your knuckles. He was warm wherever his lips brushed, worshipful when his eyes slowly opened, half-lidded as they met yours. You tried to step back, but he suddenly wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into an embrace that was slightly too tight. He buried his face into your neck, strands of his long, pale hair brushing over your cheek whenever he shifted. You couldn’t see his eyes, but you were almost certain they were wide-open in piercing, possessive anger. Your body tensed under the constriction, your hands hovering uselessly for a moment, unsure of whether to shove him off or reciprocate.
“Am I frightening you, my dearest? I’m sorry…” His voice wobbled, a stark contrast to the intensity of his earlier tone. “You must understand that I am trying to be… patient. Accommodating. But in the process, I am caging my nature, that part of me that howls for you. And I fear… Seeing that mark… His mark on your skin…” His claws dug just barely into her clothing, his body practically vibrating with thinly-veiled rage. “It… it is becoming far more difficult to keep myself restrained.
“I, uh– I understand.” You weaseled a hand between your two bodies, placing it on his chest in an attempt to put a bit of space between you. You tensed as you felt a heartbeat beneath, thudding beneath the warm fabric of his clothing. It was rapid, and far stronger than any human’s, almost overpowering.
“Do you, my dear? Do you really?” He pulled back to meet your gaze, a smoldering intensity in his shining yellow eyes. He placed a hand over yours, keeping it firmly against his chest. “If you felt even a fraction for me what I feel for you… If you had one ember of that inferno in my chest… I cannot describe how happy that would make me. It would be everything I’ve ever wanted.” His voice lowered just a little, his eyes shifting menacingly to the side. “And the thought of you feeling such things for someone other than me… Especially him…”
His claws began to dig into the back of your hand, his body shivering with his barely-contained emotion. For a moment, it truly seemed like he was going to go off the rails entirely, alarm bells sounding off in your mind. “He’ll pay for this… He’ll–”
You used your free hand to take his face, and he snapped his gaze back to yours in surprise, turning his full attention onto you. “Stand down.” You warned, your chest almost hurting at the rapid pace of your heart as you made that risky move. “You’ve bled him enough for one night.”
He began to say your name in protest, but you cut him off by moving your fingers to sit over his mouth. “I’m here now, aren’t I? I want you to focus on me, not him.”
“You want…” He repeated, golden pupils dilating rather like an excited cat’s. His breathing was still laboured, his heart quickening under your palm. He then collapsed onto you, almost making you stumble backward with the weight of his massive form. His arms wrapped around you tight, claws catching onto the fabric of your clothing as he sank to his knees, burying his head into you.
“What shall I do? What can I do to become more desirable to you? How may I suit myself to your tastes?” He held you tighter, arms wrapped tightly around your legs now as he knelt before you. “I love you. I love you! Everything I have, it aches for you! It’s like it's reaching through me, shattering anything in its path to get hold of you!”
“Hey…”
“I love you.”
He went silent, nothing but sharp breaths and sharper claws digging into the fabric of your clothing. The weight of his confession hung in the air, more than any declaration of love he had made previous. Those had not been made like this, kneeling, voice cracking with desperation. And still, it didn’t feel as authentic as you would have liked. He was still hiding behind that mask, refusing to reveal anything to you. You placed a hand on his jaw, drawing his face up, thumb pressed readily against his lip.
“What are you doing?” His voice was breathy, almost in disbelief, the wind completely knocked out of his sails at the hint of reciprocation.
“That mask. I always wondered what it covered.”
He gave a slightly nervous smile, once again hiding his teeth. “Oh! I assure you, it is nothing… pleasant. Nothing that you would want to see. “ He couldn’t help but lean into your touch.
You raised your brows. “So… you’re denying me?”
“Ah? No!” The mere idea of that seemed to disturb him greatly. “I just– I would show you, but then you might… You might run from me, my dearest. And we can’t have that. I won’t allow you to fear me.”
“Mm… Well, if you won’t show me everything, how about just a piece?” The pad of your thumb prodded the corner of his lips. “Your teeth are sharp, aren’t they?”
He hesitated. “...Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
He searched your face for a moment, weighing his options. Finally, he relented. “Then… you can see.”
Pierrot’s teeth had always appeared normal at first glance, but when his lips pulled back just a little more, they revealed the sharp points he had hidden. His were wider than the needle-point teeth of Harlequin’s maw, but they were no less sharp. You shoved your thumb further, and his jaw parted readily under your touch, revealing those rows of shark-like teeth. His eyes were locked onto your face, searching you as if he were looking for some sort of approval. You inspected those teeth for a moment, familiarizing yourself with each dip and edge before you moved your hand down to hold his chin instead, thumbpad resting on his bottom lip. His mouth was still slightly ajar, revealing the barest glimpse of his tongue. His grip on your legs loosened somewhat, almost gentle as his hands caressed downward reverently.
“Does my appearance… Please you, my dear?”
He looked so pliable, so… receptive. This wouldn’t be a fight. There would be no clash of teeth on each other’s skin unless you explicitly wished for it. He would become whatever you asked of him, lapping up any hint of sweetness in your words like an obedient hound. You replied slowly. “I like you when you’re honest.”
“Even if I am monstrous?”
There seemed to be far more to that question than he was letting on. His claws settled gently on your legs, as if to illustrate his point. You slowly nodded, moving your hand to cup his cheek.
“Especially so.”
He leaned into your touch, a lovely red hue dusting over his cheeks as he slowly grinned. It could have almost been dopey-looking had it not been sharpened by the few drops of blood still staining his face. You kept wanting to compare him to a dog, forgetting all about a dog’s tendency to guard until it slammed you in the face. “Then let me be honest,” He leaned in, pressing his cheek to your thigh, focusing his touch into that one leg. “I adore you, my dear.”
You took a deep, long breath, allowing him to continue.
"If subservience is what you wish… I will serve you until my dying breath. If you want a challenge? I will fight. You want to flee? I will chase. You want to hunt? I will run. Anything I can do to catch your eye… to see that wonderful smile bless your face… I will do unquestioningly." He sighed against your clothed thigh, eyes fluttering shut as he pressed his forehead against it now. “I’ll make you forget that he ever existed.”
“Enough of that.” You spoke sternly, grabbing one of the offshoots of his hat. You were surprised to feel something beneath the fabric, something firm, almost like a horn of some sort? You wrapped your hand around it regardless, pulling back. His head tilted under your unspoken command, pleading eyes looking up into yours. His hands stayed firmly in place, holding you like a lifeline.
The sight stirred something. He looked so… adorably pathetic. “You want me?”
“Yes! More than anything—“
You brought your other hand to place a fingertip to his lips. He settled down, sitting back onto his calves in defeat. One of your legs shifted in between his thighs, the sole of your shoe brushing just barely over the front of his pants. He gasped, bloodstained claws digging into the fabric separating you, still careful not to catch your skin. “That’s all I needed to hear.”
“Dearest…” You could practically see the feverish want in his gaze as he sighed, eyes fluttering shut. You pressed down a little harder, and his hips bucked, instinctually rutting against you. He turned his head to press a lingering kiss to your palm, one of his hands moving to envelop it, keeping it firmly against his face as he took another long, deep breath. “You spoil me.”
You were practically giving him scraps, and here he was, swallowing every bit of it greedily. You would almost feel bad if it wasn’t so admittedly endearing to see something like him, likely centuries old, massive, powerful… just kneeling to you so easily like this, almost purring under the smallest of touches. You pressed down even more, rocking your leg back and forth, and he made a choked sound, melting into the touch despite the pain it must cause him. He nibbled at the fabric of your clothing, desperate to have something to bite down onto you, or maybe he was considering just tearing them off right then and there. It was hard to tell what he was thinking as he pushed himself against you, nuzzling into your thigh while he eagerly took this humiliating position.
“You really do love this, don’t you?”
“I love you.” He stammered out with a breathy laugh. “Anyway you choose to have me… I’ll give myself to you.”
“But what do you want?”
“When you’re here… with those beautiful eyes fixed onto me and no one else… I have all I’ve ever wanted. It’s even sweeter than I imagined. Having you all to myself…” his voice took on a near manic quality, a wild look on his face as he ground against you. He was so willing, so obedient when he wanted to be. Perhaps, only when it came to you.
But then again, this was the same creature who roped you into all of this, who compromised your privacy, who broke into your home several times. All the puppy eyes in the world couldn’t erase that. You traced your foot higher, to rest against his abdomen, and pushed him off.
His hands ripped away from you, settling on his knees as he looked up, head cocked to the side in crestfallen confusion. You turned around to walk towards the bleachers, but didn’t get far before he was on his feet, arms wrapping around you from behind tightly.
“Wait… Where are you going? Did I do something wrong? I’ll do what you ask… I’ll crawl better! Just…”
You shifted around to face him, taking his face in your hand sternly. “I’m not leaving.”
He blinked in confusion. “You’re not?”
You ducked under his arms, backing up until the back of your knees hit one of the chairs of the circus tent’s bleachers. You fell onto it, leaning back in the seat. “Just getting comfortable.”
His eyes hungrily roved over your form, lingering wherever your clothing showed a hint of what was beneath. You considered, for a moment, the idea of making him kneel again, making him just sit there politely and watch as you got yourself off before him. You wondered how sweet that torture would be for a voyeur like him, who was perfectly content to stalk you throughout your day. He likely knew every nook and cranny of you already, and you had some mixed feelings about that. It would be a due punishment. But… perhaps another day. For now, you were desiring something a little more hands on. You pat your thigh invitingly, and he blinked in surprise for the slightest moment before he eagerly took your invitation, coming up to you. His arms wrapped tightly around your torso as he just about curled up into your lap. You pulled him to straddle you, trailing your hands down his waist.
“You’re so close… But you’re still so covered.” You furrowed your brows as you looked down over his body. “I wish you could show me.”
“Oh, my dear…” His hand found your neck again, tracing that bite mark with an obsessive fervour. “I wish I could show you what lay beneath this mask… And there will come a day in which I do. But right now, it is best for both of us if you don’t see it.” He leaned in, whispering to you. “Do you trust me?”
Not the liar of the two of us.
You hesitated, hands stopped at the dip of his waist.
“You don’t have to answer that now.” He reassured, seeming a little dejected you didn’t immediately agree. “You will trust me soon.”
He seemed so confident in that. Part of you wanted to refute, but given the situation, it would be far better not to. “I mean… I don’t distrust you. But if you don’t want to show me… I won’t pry further.”
“That makes me happy.” He pressed his forehead to yours, settling comfortably into your lap. Due to his height, he had to curl to have his face level with yours. “But… I will show you more of myself. Maybe not all of me. But If you want me to… if you’ll allow me, I’ll show you something.”
“Like what?”
“What I’ve been imagining since our eyes first met.” There was no grin on his face now, none of his usual delirious excitement at your presence. His touch was calculated now, tense, as if trying to parse the right formula to… to what? Please you? You weren’t quite sure, but he was clearly trying to do something. “May I kiss you?”
The direct question almost caught you off guard, his hands moving to envelop your face, thumb gently caressing your cheek. You let your gaze drop to his mask’s mouth for a moment. You thought of reaching out and taking that mask off, to kiss him properly. You even thought briefly of rejecting him, making him beg further. He would look so pretty, clinging to you, barely restraining himself from crumbling as he asks again…
Instead, you slowly leaned in, letting your lips brush against his under the soft yellow glow of the few lights. “You may.”
At first, his lips only parted, as if in surprise at the acceptance. Then, they widened into an excited grin before he dragged you into a feverish kiss. You fell back onto the stage floor, taking him down with you, his legs on either side of your hips. You could feel him smiling into the kiss, desperate but oddly gentle, like he was afraid you may accidentally catch on one of his impossibly sharp teeth. His taste was inhuman too, oddly sweet, but laced with an undercurrent of bitterness you couldn’t quite place. And, of course, the faint trace of iron from the blood that still covered the surface of his mask, strong and… slightly acidic.
He let out a soft, muffled sound, bordering on something you’d call a whimper. You tensed a little when you felt something pressing against your lower abdomen, realizing he was growing very, very aroused under your touch. It was strangely comforting to know that they seemed to have similar tells as a human did, but as for how human it was beneath the strained fabric of his pants… You didn’t know. And you were curious. Very curious. You reached a hand down between your two bodies, palming at the fabric covering his cock.
His whole body shivered as he broke the kiss with a gasp. “Dearest—“
“All it takes is a bit of kissing, huh?”
“I’ve… been like this for a while. Just your presence is overwhelming beyond belief… but your kiss… your ready acceptance of me… it’s maddening.” He breathed out, hips instinctually pushing into your hand. “This means… This means you want me, doesn’t it?”
You hesitated, but slowly nodded. It wasn’t a lie to say you wanted him, but you were unsure of whether encouraging him would be a good idea. His face instantly lit up at the motion, like a puppy being told it was a good boy.
“You want me…” He let out a laugh, slightly in disbelief, lips crashing into yours again. You gasped into him, trying at the belt at the top of his pants. You unlooped it, tossing it to the side and sliding the pants down until just that part of him was exposed.
You pulled back from the kiss, aching to look down and sate your curiosity, but the hands on your face pulled your head up to face him again, not letting you look down. Pierrot’s gaze was averted, a deep flush settled over his masked face.
“What’s wrong?”
“Forgive me, my dear… but you must keep your eyes elsewhere for now.” He spoke slowly, finally meeting your gaze. He pressed his forehead to yours again, as if to reassure you. “I am too monstrous.”
“I told you I don’t mind. I want to see you.”
“You— you can’t.” His voice was a little more urgent. “For now… you can’t. Knowing too much… seeing what’s beneath… it can put you in danger.”
You raised your brows. “Even something as simple as this?”
“…Even something as simple as this.” He confirmed slowly. “Please, put your trust in me.”
You let out a long sigh, just itching to shift your eyes downwards and confirm for yourself. But instead, you resolved to let touch do what your eyes couldn’t. “Then I’ll learn through my hands.”
He groaned when you placed your fingertips on the base of his cock, pressing his cheek against yours. He rubbed up against you in an almost feline-like motion, moving down to your neck again. Monsters like him seemed to fixate on the slope of your throat, tongue darting out to taste it. “You look so lovely today, my dear… except for…” His gaze fixed onto the bite wound at your neck again.
“Hey now…“
“Can I cover it?” His eyes snapped to yours again. “With my own bite? I’ll… I’ll be gentler than he could ever be.”
You hesitated at the direct request, the memory of teeth sinking into your shoulder suddenly vivid and slightly overpowering. Pierrot gave you a pleading look, placing a hand earnestly onto his chest. “You can pull me back if it gets to be too much.”
You took a deep breath, knowing that not indulging him would likely lead to more problems later. “...Alright.”
He held you a little tighter, face pushing into the crook of your neck as if taking in your scent. You didn’t see the mask split open, but you felt a tender kiss against the injured skin before he bit down.
That familiar pain shot through you, accompanied by the undeniable warmth he brought with each touch. His claws dug into your clothing, teeth sinking in further and further. He let out a soft sound, rumbling across your collarbone as he lost himself. He was going too far, and you made an involuntary hiss of pain as blood dribbled down from the imprints of his teeth, staining your collar, falling down over your chest. You placed a hand on his chest, flipping him over so he was on the bleacher chair and you were overtop him, between his legs. He let out an undignified squeak of surprise, but eagerly let you do so, a feral want written all over him as he bucked into your hand. It was your blood that stained his face now, dripping down from the corner of his mouth, mixing in with that which was already dried there.
“Sorry– ah, I went too far, didn’t I?” He groaned, his tongue gathering what blood of yours was on his chin with an almost dazed look on his face. “Forgive me… You taste so sweet, my dear…”
“So I’ve been told…” It was strange to have a being so large underneath you like this, but it was certainly very arousing. He could likely kill you with a single well-placed swipe… yet here he was, allowing you to maneuver him like a pliant doll. You used that unnatural amount of precum he had to slick your hand as you pumped him up and down, feeling him twitch under your touch. Despite his usual unyielding silence, he was far from quiet with you, cries of your name falling from his lips again and again as he was overwhelmed by the sensation of your returned desire.
“Please, my dear… Let me bring you bliss in turn. Return what you’re giving me tenfold” He took your free hand, bringing it up to press a lingering kiss to your palm. “I promise you’ll enjoy every second of it. I’ll be more careful this time.”
You placed a hand over the now doubled bite wound on your throat, feeling it throb with an aching pain. When you pulled your palm off, it was slick with your own blood. Just how hard did he bite you? You felt the sudden urge to return the favour.
“Oh dear…” He deflated a little at the sight of your bloodied hand. He took your wrist gently, bringing it up to his lips. “I… really am sorry, I would never hurt you like this on purpose. Let me…”
His tongue slid out to trace over your hand, cleaning it of blood. You let him do it for a moment, watching place another of those reverent kisses against your palm before you covered his mouth with it, pushing his head back. His eyes snapped open wide as you exposed part of his neck, your lips pressing just above his frilled collar. Your other hand continued your motions on his cock, and even though he wouldn’t allow you to look down and see it, you could feel his inhuman shape. You couldn’t wrap your hand entirely around it, but given the size of the rest of him, you pretty much already expected that. These monsters were enigmas to you still, but at least there were parts of them that were predictable. For example, when you bit down just below his jaw, he let out a gasp of startled pain. It would take some effort, given your dull teeth, to break that skin. It likely felt far more painful than what a clean slice would hold, with how much more force it required, but eventually, you managed to draw some blood from him, marking him the same way he had marked you. His whines of pain turned into something more pleading, more pleasured as you continued, his body relenting beneath you readily.
You jolted as something began to form under your hand, right at the base of his inhuman cock. You pulled off, having no time to admire the damage you left behind before he pulled you into another kiss, the taste of your own blood on his tongue mixing with the taste of his on yours. It took some effort for you to break the kiss, meeting his feverish gaze.
“Pierrot, what the hell is–”
“My dear, keep going…” He huffed out, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you so your face was buried in his chest, his chin resting atop your head. His breath came out in ragged pants, little sounds of pleasure escaping from him.
“You’re close?”
You felt him nod. You were burning to just tear yourself away from him and have a look, because whatever you were feeling under your hands certainly wasn’t human. Was it some sort of… knot? You couldn’t quite tell. But when you rubbed your fingertips there, focusing on that forming swell, he melted under your touch, a low, rumbling sound drawn from his throat. His hands roamed your back, slipping under your shirt to run across your bare skin, exploring every inch he could reach while you used your hands on him. Seeing him in such a state… It did serve to rile you up. You moved faster, and right as he began to tense up, you stopped.
Something akin to a sob tore from his throat, his claws digging into your back. You sucked in a pained breath at the feeling of them raking down your spine.
“Sorry, sorry… But what? Why would you–” He sounded so distraught. You couldn’t help but chuckle, taking your hand off of him for a moment.
“Shhh… relax.”
“But–”
“You want to please me, right? So take it.”
He couldn’t say much to refute that without breaking the promises he had made. His body shook as you started again, legs wrapping around yours tightly, keeping you against him. You went far slower now, only giving the lightest touches to where he needed you most, knowing any more stimulation would ruin your plans for him. His hands clambered for some sort of purchase on your back, clearly trying to be careful and not scratch you again, but failing miserably each time you gave a slightly firmer stroke, just to go back to those too-light touches. You continued this little game a few more times, bringing him to the edge just to bring him back down, and he let you. He greedily soaked up every drop of affection you granted him, with soft moans and breathy pleas of your name each time you denied him. It was a fun game, even with each claw that caught your skin, no-doubt making you look like you’d been attacked by some feral alleycat. He babbled, too. It was as if he was making up for all of the times he couldn’t speak, mumbled into you with a desperate fervour. He said a great many things. Your name, his love for you, your love for him, how good you were making him feel, how good he wanted you to feel, what he’d observed, what he loved… You only caught bits and pieces, scattered and unintelligible the further this went on for.
Eventually, that ‘knot’ at the base of his cock had grown so sensitive that you just couldn’t keep this up. He came at the last light touch, and he did so with a silent cry, pulling you close to him as he did so. His thighs squeezed tightly around your hips as his body fell apart into bliss, burying his face into your sore neck. By the end of things, you were both panting, exhausted, and with almost-matching wounds on your throats.
“Marked by each other…” He breathed out, a lovesick grin spread out over his face. “I can’t imagine another thing more beautiful…”
The bite mark on his neck was a far different shape than the one on yours, but it was a good sight nonetheless, marring his otherwise unblemished skin. One of his hands brushed against your bloodstained collar, trailing down to your chest. “Please, allow me to—”
He was cut off by the sound of a voice outside, a panicked look overcoming his face. You pushed off of him, equally panicked just by seeing the look on his face. “Pierrot? What’s wrong?”
“Oh, dear– You are so consuming I lost track of time. My show is starting soon.” he quickly fixed his clothing, standing up and taking your shoulders, drawing you into a last, tight embrace. “It pains me to say it, but we will have to continue this later. You… you have to go. You can’t stay to watch me covered in blood like that. It… it will tempt them.”
“Them…? Do you mean–”
“I’ll clean up. Go. You must be careful.” He gave you a reassuring squeeze before stepping back, a worried look on his face. He pulled out a handkerchief, running it along the injured skin of your neck, wiping off as much blood there as he could. It still stained your clothing, evidence of what had transpired. Pierrot pulled your jacket tighter around yourself, buttoning it up in an attempt to hide it. “Don’t let them see how much you know.”
He brought your hand up one last time, placing a lingering kiss on your knuckles. You nodded quickly, heart racing at the thought of going outside again, facing the other, far more dangerous creatures that resided there, who weren’t tamed by feelings. You felt his gaze on you as you slipped out of the back of the tent, shivering as you stepped into the cold evening air.
It was drizzling now, a few drops of rain hitting your nose and cheeks as you walked onto the half-dead grass behind the tent. Old flyers and litter scattered the ground where you stepped, the splash of shallow puddles soaking through them with each movement. You could hear the distant sounds of laughter, shouts of playful fear from the unsuspecting crowds, not at all privy to the true horror that lay within the circus. Your heart still pounded from the intense experience, shoulder radiating pain, soothed just a little by rainwater seeping into your jacket. You crept slowly around the tent, hoping to rejoin the crowds, to blend in with the unknowing even with the red ticket sitting heavy in your pocket.
Your mind was filled with conflicting thoughts, most of them involving the image of Pierrot on his knees, near tears as he begged you to look his way. Harlequin’s accusations of sadism from last night felt even more impossible to refute, but you tried to anyway. After all, being aroused in a sexual situation, even if that situation was a little violent, didn’t necessarily make you a sadist, now did it? You’d need harder evidence before you reconsidered your stance.
There were few lights that reached the back of the tents, only a few sparsely lighting your path. But one illuminated the shape of a figure, hunched against the side of the tent. Your heart dropped, and you ducked behind a pile of old crates, reaching for the knife in your pocket just in case. Maybe you wouldn’t be able to beat any of the freaks if they came at you with the intent to kill… But if you could make them bleed with a bite, that meant they could be hurt somewhat, right? At least you’d be able to do some damage before you go, or make yourself not worth the effort? It felt a little morbid to be calculating just how much you could fight back before you get killed, but what else could one do against creatures they didn’t quite understand yet?
To your surprise, instead of the threats you had grown used to, a familiar, yet strained voice called out. “Do you really think I can’t see you?”
“Harlequin?” You paused, then slowly placed a hand on the crate to pull yourself up. Sure enough, on closer inspection, you could see that bright, poison-green in the dark behind the tents. You honestly weren’t sure if this was the best or the worst person to run into right now.
“If that’s your best attempt at hiding, you’re not going to last long.” His voice was more pained now than teasing, and the image of Pierrot’s face, stained with blood, crossed your mind again. You almost hesitated to come closer, partially due to his inherent danger, and partially due to not wanting to see whatever state he was in. If his voice was this rough… What was the rest of him like? You slowly stepped forward, following the smoldering glow of his eyes, flashing like a cornered animal’s in the hint of distant light.
He seemed to shrink back from you, looking uncharacteristically small as you approached. It was raining a little harder now, but the small pools around him were darker than the rest, blooming with each drop of blood that fell from his crumpled form. He did look rough, tears in the fabric of his costume where stab wounds lay beneath. Pierrot clearly did a number on him, and though they were half-healed now (you assumed his kind must heal far faster than yours), you couldn’t help but imagine what he must have looked like freshly mangled.
To be honest, you were almost jealous of Pierrot’s ability to tear him apart like this. You doubted you’d be able to get this many hits in with your small folding knife.
He hissed out a breath through his gritted teeth, lips pulled back into something like a snarl. He quickly covered up his displeasure in a grin, slowly standing on his swaying legs. Blood dripped from him, settling into the grass below.
“Oh, Harlequin…”
He let out a loud bark of laughter. It sounded more covering than genuine. “You look so worried. It’s adorable, really.”
“Worried? I wish Pierrot stabbed you some more.”
“Oh yeah?” He seemed amused, cocking his head to the side, revealing more of one of the gouges at the junction of his neck and shoulder, the split fabric stained with his own blood. “Why don’t you continue what he started, sweetheart? We both know it gets you off.”
You bristled, barely restraining yourself from taking him up on that offer. “I’m not a sadist. Stop lumping me in with you lot.”
“Oh yeah, sure you aren’t.” He leaned in, almost looming over you, blood falling from his lip onto your cheek. “You had quite the mouth last night.”
You felt the warm drop weave its way down your cheek, to your jaw. It was followed by another, hitting the corner of your mouth now. Something screamed at you to let your tongue slide out and taste it, but you refrained. “He hurt you pretty rough, didn’t he…?”
“He doesn’t like it when I touch his things.” He grinned, letting out a little groan as he stood back up straight. You had little to say to that, remembering how desperately Pierrot had clung to you, and the look he gave you when he first discovered that bite wound… God, you’d never seen a creature, human or otherwise, look so intense. And you had a feeling you’d barely scratched the surface of whatever this obsession was that he had with you.
“In any case… While I’m here, I should return something.”
“Oh, of course. Your kindness knows no bounds.” He leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms as he watched you rummage through your bag. You pulled out the piece of fabric, stepping closer to wrap it around his neck. But, oddly enough, he snatched it from you before you could do it for him, tying it in place himself. “I suppose I should thank you for going out of your way. But I won’t. You’d read too much into it.”
“Well… While I’m here, do you want a bandage, or a cloth?” The words almost died on your tongue. The tiny little band-aids you had on you in comparison to how deep and numerous those wounds were… it felt like slapping a piece of scotch tape onto a sinking ship. He laughed, shaking his head.
“Don’t waste them. A few stab wounds is nothing.”
You raised your brows, and he continued, seeing your confusion.
“Even in this state… I could likely still hunt you down. Want to test it?”
What happens when a repressed sadist catches the attention of certain, far more openly sadistic, inhuman creatures? Nothing good, that's what, and a lot of mutual bleeding.
Warnings: Smut, Gender Neutral Reader (No Anatomy Specified), No clear dom (kinda switching), Sadist x Sadist, Biting, Blood, Thigh Riding, Kneeling, Oral Sex, Tentacles, Slight Bondage, Breaking and Entering, Stalking, Marking, Jealousy
Original Ao3 Link
You had a difficult time falling asleep that night, the thoughts of that strange Circus and the… interesting people it had on its staff plaguing your mind. So when you were startled out of your sleep just to see it was still very much the middle of the night, it was far from welcome.
You blinked a few times in an attempt to unblur your exhausted vision as the sound of a sliding door slowly clicking shut reached your ears. You didn’t even process it at first, but the second it registered, you snapped fully awake, heart dropping through the mattress below.
Someone was in your house.
Weirdly enough, it wasn’t your first break-in this week. Nor the second. In fact, you weren’t really sure what number you were on, and that’s if you only counted the ones you remembered… God, you felt sick to the lining of your stomach at the thought of there being times that you didn’t remember, with someone standing over you, piercing eyes roving over your unconscious form as you peacefully slept. It should be a blessing to be awake now, but it didn’t stop the instinctual reaction your body had at the knowledge you weren’t alone in what should be your most private state.
You didn’t hear a single footstep, not even a breath, only the barest hint of fabric rustling as whoever it was moved closer to you. You shut your eyes tight, not knowing what else to do other than to pretend you were asleep.
As whoever it was got closer, your jaw clenched as you realized your predicament. You weren’t exactly wearing anything under the covers.
Your heart beat out of your chest, and you tried to keep your breathing in check, your body screaming at you to run or do… something.
“Pretending to be asleep, are you? You are not very convincing, you know that?” A smooth voice cut through the silence, followed by a little snicker. “I can hear your heart racing.”
Shit.
You knew the voice well, sultry and envenomated. Harlequin stepped closer to the bed, leaned over the edge. You didn’t know who you were expecting, but part of you was hoping it would be Pierrot. As uncanny and deranged as he was, he seemed to be the lesser of two evils. Harlequin? He was a live wire, completely unpredictable in both his motives and his actions. You dared to crack your eyes open, not being able to make out much in the darkness of the room other than his telltale silhouette, and the ethereal, shining green eyes.
“I can smell it, too. Your fear, that is. It’s intoxicating…”
“How do you people keep getting in? What wards do I need to put on my door to keep you out?”
“Hm… how frigid.” He feigned offence, an airy laugh laced through his words. “It is quite endearing you think a couple of scribbled lines are going to keep me out, but something tells me that even if they could, you wouldn’t do it.”
“You say things like that a lot. Do you really think I like you that much?’
“Oh, dear one, I know you do.” He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, leaning in so he was almost hovering over your form. He made a show out of looking you over, shamelessly letting his eyes rake down the parts covered by the blanket. “I can tell.”
You pulled the blanket tighter over yourself, keeping your eyes firmly on his hands, almost expecting them to dart out at any moment. “What makes you so sure?”
“Because you’re a smart one. And you know what I can offer you, don’t you?” His hand slowly came up, claws curling into the blanket covering your hip, giving it a little tug. You gripped it tighter, not letting it budge, and he let out an amused chuckle. “How good I can make you feel…”
“Get the fuck out of my house.”
He clicked his tongue. “How cruel. I came all this way to visit you, and you won’t even spare me a glance? You’re not being a very good host.”
“You’re not exactly a guest. More of an intruder.”
“Is it really intruding if you left your door unlocked?” He cocked his head, narrowing hungrily. “Though I suppose I came at a bad time. All alone in bed, wearing practically nothing…”
“Practically?”
His brows shot up, a rare look of surprise flashing over his features. He blinked once, then, his cheshire grin widened at the corners as his gaze flicked around your covered body. “Alright then… let me rephrase that. All alone in bed, wearing nothing at all.” His fingers uncurled from the sheets, instead moving to glide up, settling on where the sheets ended at your neck, barely brushing against your skin. “Do you always sleep so bare?”
“I don’t see why you need to know that.”
“Well, I don’t necessarily need to, but want? Now that’s a whole other thing entirely.” His head slowly tilted to the side as he appraised you. “And, make no mistake, I am definitely wanting.”
“Maybe I’ll tell you if you get out of my house, pervert.” You reach out to take his wrist, pulling it away from your throat. “And let me sleep.”
He let you do it, but something about him darkened, his grin not shifting a centimetre from its wide, toothy split across whatever he had for a face. “Or what?”
You couldn’t help but click your tongue. “Or what? I can’t do anything about your presence and you know it.”
“So you won’t try to kick me out by force?”
“What good would that do? Whatever you are, you aren’t human. I likely couldn’t force you to if I tried.”
He seemed genuinely a little caught off guard by the sheer resignation in your voice, his face somewhere between impressed and annoyed. “Smart, but boring.”
“But even if I can’t force you out… I can ask you to.” You sighed, letting go of his wrist. “Please?”
It left a bad taste in your mouth to say anything like ‘please’ to a man like this one, if you even call whatever he was a ‘man’, but it was worth a shot. He leaned in close, dropping his voice low. “Are you sure you don’t want my touch? My attention? My…” He paused for a mere second, eyes flicking down to your lips suggestively. “Adoration?”
Something about his voice, or maybe his proximity, made you hesitate, but after a moment, you nodded.
He slowly withdrew his hand, sitting up straight with a contemplative look. “Mm… If that’s what you really want, I can take my leave. But answer me this.”
“Fine. What do you want to ask?”
“Is the thought of Pierrot holding you back?”
You froze at the name, eyes snapping to his. A look of satisfaction weaved into his features, his grin now lopsided, almost mocking.
“Ah, so it is about him! You’re worried he’s going to go off the deep end if you indulge your true desires with me, hm? Or you are so enchanted by his sweet little nothings that they’ve tugged on those heartstrings of yours?”
“That’s not it.” You try to say, sitting up and pulling the blanket so it would still cover the majority of your body.
“Is it not? Because that look in those pretty eyes says otherwise.” He leaned in again, his sharp, toothy grin mere inches from your cheek as he whispered. Even this close, you couldn’t feel any sort of breath. You wondered if he even needed to breathe. “Well, sweetheart… It’s a good thing loverboy isn’t here, now is he?” His clawed fingertips trailed up your now-exposed arm, razor-sharp edges ghosting your skin. Even through the glove, he was startlingly cold, raising goosebumps wherever he went.
“Don’t act like Pierrot isn’t the reason for any of this in the first place.” You shot back, leaning away a little. The closeness of him was muddling your brain a bit. “You wouldn’t even give me a second look if he wasn’t interested in me first.”
“Gui-lty!” He said in a sing-song voice, a few dark curls falling over his eyes as he cocked his head to the side. You were almost caught off guard by his bluntness, if you weren’t already kinda used to it. Still, it felt a little insulting that he didn’t even try to hide it.
“Well, at least you’re honest…”
“I’m very honest. I don’t hide anything from you, dear one. It’s all laid out on my sleeve. I’m not the liar of the two of us.” He shifted closer, one hand reaching over you to prop himself up on the sheets. “That lovesick fool has filled your head with all sorts of pretty little things, hasn’t he? I bet he hasn’t even told you what exactly we are yet. I don’t play such juvenile games. I have far more sophisticated tricks up my sleeve… And I could show you my hand tonight, if you’d let me.”
“Why should I? You’re only doing all of this to get back at Pierrot, anyways.”
“Now that’s not exactly true.” His hand stopped at your collarbone, thumb brushing over the base of your throat. “Sure, I do want to steal you from him. I want to have you first. I want to have something that he can’t have. I want you to choose me, so all he can do is sit there, to watch and want but never take for himself. But… I’m certainly not faking my attraction.” He chuckled. “I can see why he chose you.”
“And why is that?”
“Do I really need to spell it out for you? You’re desirable. Anyone with half a brain can see that. So when I say I want you to drop that pesky little sheet and show me what you have been hiding… I mean it.” He dropped his voice to a whisper, shifting his hand lower, to where the blanket covered your chest. “Right now… I think that getting in your good graces is far more important than spiting any red-wearing fool. And I think it is in your best interest to yield to me.”
You let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking your head. “You can’t be serious.”
“Deadly serious. I’m sick of watching him fawn over you, making you swoon… I want a turn.” He moved even closer, his sharp teeth grazing over your bare shoulder, all the way up to your neck. You instinctively tensed. “Even if your heart lies with him… I couldn’t care less. Right now… I have you here. In my arms, in bed with me. I’m the one who gets to make you feel good tonight… And he can’t do a damn thing about it.” His claws dug ever-so-slightly into your collarbone, not enough to break skin, but enough for you to feel their presence. “And all you have to do? Say yes.”
His tongue darted out to taste your skin, dragging up your neck, lingering there as if savouring every second of it. You shivered, then moved your hand up, grabbing hold of the hair poking out of his hate and pulling him off of you. He let out a grunt of displeasure, long, unnaturally green tongue snaking back into his toothy maw.
“So this is your decision…?”
“You’re just going to bite me if I let you continue.”
He laughed, not even bothering to deny it. “If I can’t bite you now… When can I?”
These freaks were just allergic to quitting, were they? You furrowed your brows, trying to get comfortable in your bed. “I don’t know. When I feel you’ve earned it.”
“Earned it, they say…” He scoffed, raising his head when you let go of his hair. “And how does one go about earning your favour, dear one? Should I get on my knees and grovel? Maybe with a few ‘please’s? A few ‘yes master’s” His voice was shot through with mockery. ”Should I wear red too?”
“You don’t beg very well, you know that?”
“I don’t beg at all, darling, and I’m not going to start tonight. Even for a pretty little thing like you.” He took his hand off of your collarbone, instead taking your hand, bringing it slowly up to his lips. His lips brushed against the pulse point of your wrist. “But I can tell you this; he can’t give you what I can. Not in a million years.”
His lips parted, pointed ends of his teeth brushing against one of your veins. You maneuvered your hand around to grab his chin, dragging him closer. In the process, the blanket fell from your upper body, exposing your chest. His eyes widened in surprise, snapping to your now-exposed skin, his snake-like pupils dilating so far they nearly took up his dark sclera as he waited for your next move.
“What did I say about biting?”
He blinked once, then, a wicked grin spread over his face. He moved closer, half-lidded eyes burning in the dark of the room. “Oh? And now you’re trying to give me orders?”
“Well? Will you follow them?”
He tightened his hold on your wrist, keeping it firmly onto his chin as he leaned into your touch, shutting his eyes in content for a moment. “Oh, dear one… It’s endearing how you think you have any power over me. But… I guess I am willing to indulge you for a while.” His other hand slid over your abdomen, then lower, taking hold of the blanket and pulling it off slowly. He came to splay his fingers out over your hip, not bothering to hide where his eyes lingered. “I’ll keep my fangs to myself.”
“Good.” You breathed out a sigh of relief. Blood roared in your ears as your mind raced. You hadn’t known anyone from the Circus of Horrors for long, but Harlequin seemed like one of the bigger mysteries about the place. Part of you wanted to pry for more information. “...What would you do if I told you to leave? Right now?”
“After I’ve gotten a taste? I’d call you quite the tease.” He took his hands off of you to unbutton one of his layers, tossing it somewhere in the room to reveal the undershirt beneath. “What? Are you scared I won’t obey?”
“Can you blame me?” You narrowed your eyes. “You aren’t exactly known for your kindness.”
“I am most certainly not. But I’d heed.” He moved his hands up in a mock-defensive position. “Go on, then. Tell me to leave, if that’s what you want.”
You froze, eyes flicking from his hands, to his body, to his face. At your hesitance, he got bolder, reaching out to take your jaw in his cold palm.
“Tell me there isn’t a part of you that wants this.”
You took that hand off of your face, interlocking your fingers together in a death grip. “You don’t give up, you know that?”
“I know that very well.” His tongue darted out to run over his teeth, excitement written all over his face. “As I said… You know what I can offer you.” He seemed amused, his free hand moving to your waist, drawing you closer. “Tucked away in the privacy of the dark… It's quiet, forbidden… You feel it, don’t you? Your heart pounding?” His voice was a low purr. “Accept me.”
He pulled, and soon, one of your legs was between his thighs as you leaned over him. His smirk was uncannily wide, splitting apart his face to the ears. He seemed almost… surprised, despite his earlier showboating. His brows were knitted together in a strangely confused manner, as if he wasn’t expecting you to accept.
“What? Having second thoughts?” You leaned in close, cocking your head to the side. He recovered quickly, his usual confident expression returning.
“Never.” He wrapped his free arm around your waist, pulling you close so your chest flush against his. He was huge, larger than any human, and up this close it was even more evident. You were suddenly incredibly aware of just how bare you were in comparison to his almost fully-clothed form. “You are gorgeous, dear one. Ravishing. I was only momentarily taken by you.”
That clearly wasn’t the reason. “I thought you said you weren’t the lying type?”
His lips pulled back into something like a snarl. “There are more pressing things for us to focus on right now.”
“Like?”
“You, for example.” He moved to press his face into your neck again, trailing his lips all the way up to your jaw. “And what we could be for each other…”
He followed up his words by brushing his lips just barely against yours, as if urging you to commit. You hesitated briefly, then reciprocated, fully taking him into a kiss.
He tasted strange. Like nothing you had ever had before. Something oddly acidic, burning your tongue like poison, but it wasn’t painful. It lingered, sizzled, burrowed itself deep into your memory. He let out something of a chuckle, muffled by you as he pulled your bottom lip between his teeth. You warningly gripped his hand harder at the almost-bite, and he mumbled out a ‘“Right.” before diving right back into it, this time, without any pretense of softness. You couldn’t help but let out a choked sound at the sudden force of his kiss.
You used the advantage you had from having your knee between his legs in an attempt to get the upper hand. You pushed it forward, so your thigh rubbed against the front of his pants. He viscerally flinched, a hand darting out to rake his claws over your hip.
You withdrew from the kiss, hissing in pain as your side was sliced open. You gave him a dirty look, but all you got in return was a satisfied smirk, his tongue running over his bottom lip.
“What? You never said scratching was off-limits.”
“I assumed that would be inferred.”
“Did you? Whoops!” He did not look sorry in the slightest. One of his fingertips ran over the edge of one of the scratches, pulling it up and pressing it flat against his tongue, tasting you. “But you have to admit… that was arousing, wasn’t it?”
“Maybe if you’re a sadist.”
“Maybe.” He laughed, relenting. “What an intoxicating taste… And a wonderful sight. It will ache for a while, and you’ll think of me each time it does, won’t you, dear one?”
It did sting, even if it was just a couple surface-level scratches. You glanced around his form, or at least, what you could make out in the darkness, and in a spur-of-the-moment decision, took the hand of his you were gripping and yanked it closer, sinking your teeth into his wrist through the fabric separating you. While doing so, you ground your thigh against him.
He let out a loud, uncharacteristic sound of surprise, instinctively pulling back, only to be stopped by your grip. Once your mind caught up to you, you let go, meeting his gaze.
“So that’s on the table?”
His lips were partially ajar, his eyes wide and caught off guard. He stayed like that for a pause, then, a grin spread over his face, but this one was far more malicious than before. You got the sudden feeling that you made a terrible mistake when he grabbed your shoulders and shoved you down. Within seconds, his mask was at your waist-level, his claws digging into your thighs as his tongue dragged over your scratched hip, gathering the blood he drew from you. Before you could react, he sunk his teeth into one of them. Sharp pain shot through your lower body, and you sat up quickly, once again grabbing his hair and yanking him back.
“Hey, now–”
“What?” He grinned up at you. Some of your blood stained his chin, and his tongue slid out to clean it off. It was startlingly long. “Biting’s ‘on the table’ now, right? You wouldn’t want to be a hypocrite, would you?”
“I don’t have razor blades for teeth.”
“Ah, a double standard, is it? Alright, then. I promise to be gentle.”
You cursed under your breath, body tensed instinctively. He went to bite again, but your grip on his hair kept him back. “How about you put your mouth to better uses?”
His eyes snapped to yours, clearly intrigued. “Oh?”
“I have been wondering about your tongue.” You used your hold on him to drag him lower, fully between your legs. His face visibly lit up, tongue darting out like a snake tasting the air. “It’s unnatural. But… not an unpleasant sight.”
“Dear one… It’s infatuating when you express your desires.” he gave your thigh a little nip as you moved yourself to sit on the edge of the bed. “You want my tongue on you? Just say the word. Scream it, even.” He slid to the floor, much more comfortable on his knees than awkwardly curled up on your bed.
“It’s strange seeing you on your knees.” You commented, the heat in your body flaring up in anticipation at the mere sight of him looking up at you like that.
“You seem to like it. Maybe you’re a bit of a sadist yourself.” He pulled your thighs further apart, accommodating himself between them. “That’s dangerous, darling. How may two sadists get along?”
“We’ll find a way.” You found yourself smiling, despite yourself. The memory of biting him came to mind again, of that beautiful, new expression on his face… You wouldn’t mind seeing that on him again. You wondered what he would do if you bit somewhere more sensitive. His neck, maybe. His hip, in revenge. Somewhere far more intimate. But for now, you just watched as he grazed his teeth along your thigh, biting down near the junction of your hip. He went slow, painfully slow. He was a tease in every sense of the word, barely brushing over where you wanted him most in favour of still good, but far less satisfying places. You gave his hair an encouraging tug, but he didn’t heed your warning, instead choosing to trace his fingertips down your calf, lingering reverently on your skin.
You shot your leg out, hooking it around his shoulders and pulling him closer. He yelped, falling into you. He quickly recovered, gaze snapping up to yours. His eyes were practically the only thing you could reliably see in this dark. “Impatient.”
“You came here for one thing. Why are you stalling?”
“I came here for far more than instant gratification, dear one.” His tongue flicked over your inner thigh. “I want to drive you to madness, so that your body remembers how I feel, inside and out. I can’t do that through rushing, now can I?”
Both his hands were on your thighs, so it shouldn’t be possible for them to be anywhere else. That’s why you nearly jumped out of your seat when you felt something brush against your ankle, coiling around it before winding slowly up your leg. It felt oddly warm, smooth. He was oddly warm now, nothing like that cold sensation from before. His lips, his touch, his everything, like the radiating heat of an engine, starting out cold, ending unbearably hot.
“This will keep you from squirming too much, don’t you think?” His voice was tinged with barely concealed excitement, the… whatever it was that was wrapping around you was up to your waist now. It looked sort of like… a rope? A tendril? You weren’t quite sure, but it seemed to be a part of his body in some way or another, a fifth limb. Then, a sixths, crawling up your other leg, winding around your waist snugly. You were briefly reminded of a snake, some sort of constrictor. Even scale-less, the ‘ropes’ felt rather similar in their firmness and winding nature. You let go of his hair to grab at it, but it didn’t budge. In fact, one of the thin tips moved over your fingers, wrapping gently around your wrist and pulling your hand down, back to his hair, as if asking you to take hold of it again.
“What the hell are–”
“Hah, that look on your face!” He exclaimed with a laugh, those ‘ropes’ keeping your legs firmly in place. “Astounded, but receptive. And the way you’re looking at me… like you want to eat me alive…” His claws dug into your thighs, leaving pinpricks of blooming red in their wake. His lips ghosted over your core, a warm breath washing over the sensitive skin. The thought of whether he needed to breathe or not crossed your mind again, and you wondered if he was choosing to do it, just to tease you more. “It suits your beautiful features perfectly. I’d like to see it more.”
The ‘rope’ let go of your wrist when you did take hold of his hair again, this time, at the back of his neck, just under his hat. “I wish I could kick you in the ribs.”
“How violent. You really do fit right into the circus, don’t you? Fascinating.” He chuckled, then, finally, drew his tongue up, pressing it flat against your most sensitive point. YOu took in a sharp inhale, encouragingly tugging at the roots of his dark hair. He let out a pleased hum, the vibration of his voice moving all the way down to the two tips of his long, forked tongue. It had so much more dexterity than you expected, able to pinpoint, to wrap around, to flick and drag and pleasure. You instinctively tried to wrap your legs around his head, but were infuriatingly stopped by the ‘ropes’. Instead, you used your grip on his hair to maneuver him, to push him down while you rolled your hips into his expert touch.
That acidic, tingling sensation you felt when you kissed wasn’t just taste, it seems. You felt it even now, spreading out over your skin, a pleasurable, almost needling sensation weaving through your lower body. “Speed up.” You breathed out. He tried to pull away, likely to tease you, but you kept your grip firm, so instead, he just stared up at you through his lashes, before deciding to comply.
You shut your eyes for a moment, trying to focus on the sensations you were currently feeling, and not on the fact that this… inhuman, mysterious creature was currently kneeling between your legs, servicing you. And that another one of these creatures was likely going to lose his mind if he ever found out about this. And with the physical marks of the encounter now marring your skin, it felt like more of an inevitability. Your frustration with this whole scenario was palpable, and you attempted to relieve some of that tension, that fear from the last couple days, by rutting up against Harlequin’s tongue, using him for everything he could give. And he let you, ‘ropes’ tightening around you, just on the verge of being painful.
“You’re good.” You spoke slowly, voice a little breathy. You used your free hand to run along the smooth surface of one of the tendrils that had coiled up to your chest, running along it to the tapered end. It curled around your hand almost affectionately. “Guess you’re not just all talk afterwards.”
You brought that tendril up to your lips, pressing a kiss to it. He responded with a muffled groan, the appendage shivering. It was as if you found some sort of erogenous zone, by the way he seemed to lose himself in you, tongue moving with renewed fervour. You took the hint, focusing in on that ‘rope’.
You were beginning to think there was a better word to call it than a rope. Some kind of… smooth tentacle? You weren’t sure. Either way, it tasted similarly to the rest of him as you ran your tongue along it, exploring its surface. With each motion you made, he reacted, his motions stuttering between your legs, or a muffled sound or two pulled from his throat. A few more of those tentacles began to wind around your body, feeling over your chest, tracing up your spine, ever so slightly brushing against your neck. The one you were holding prodded against your lips, and you let it slip past just barely before pulling away again, teasing him the way he had always been fond of teasing you, hot drags of his tongue over your sex were met in equal measure with the strokes of your hand on that strange tendril, making him go faster.
He suddenly drew his tongue back, beginning to suck instead. Your body involuntarily jolted, bucking up into him, which he gladly met by going harder, another one of those low, animalistic sort of groans torn from his throat.
He maintained a brutal, yet steady pace with such ease, and your grip tightened in his hair, keeping him firmly against you. Heat had begun to pool in your lower abdomen, mind going fuzzy with arousal as you grew closer and closer. You were on the verge now, the pounding feeling of the veins beneath his touch nearly sending you over that edge.
The tendril slid past your lips, and you bit down on it, hard. It jolted, and Harlequin let out a loud, pained sound. The sweet sound of that is what finally pushed you over that edge, making you release onto his tongue.
He stayed there for a moment, lapping at you, drawing out all the aftershocks he could. You released your bite, the taste of… blood, lingering on your tongue. You had drawn blood. You raised a hand, gingerly touching your lips before licking the residue off of them.
Harlequin’s tentacles slowly withdrew from your body as he stood. He brought the injured one up, rubbing at the bite wound you left behind with a strange expression on his masked face. Then, his eyes snapped to yours, a dangerous grin on his face. He leaned in and whispered your name, dragging out every syllable.
“Hm?” You raised your brows, and he laughed.
“That’s the name I was spelling out with my tongue. A pretty one, isn’t it?”
You blinked a few times. You hadn’t even noticed, too preoccupied as you were with the pleasure you were receiving from said tongue. He snickered, tucking that injured tendril away. “We are now marked thoroughly with each other. Intoxicating, isn’t it?” One of his hands came down to rub over your scratched up thighs. “Not just you… but your sheets, stained with that blood you drew from me. You won’t be able to rid yourself of this memory. It will poison your dreams tonight, won’t it?”
You frantically looked down at your sheets. Fuck, he was right. There were blood spatters littering your bed. You wanted to claw your eyes out even thinking about having to wash those. “You bastard.”
He grinned, then leaned in, licking up one of the bite marks he had left on your neck earlier. “How about one more for the road? A bite, I mean.”
“Only if you let me bite you back.”
He huffed, withdrawing to look at your face. “Truly insatiable. Alright then, I’ll contain myself.” He stood up straight, looking down over your body, cut through with gouges and bite marks. “I hope to see you at the circus tomorrow.” He pulled a ticket out of his pocket, a green-coloured one, and brought it to your lips. You stared at it for a moment, then him, before you ever understood what he was trying for. You hesitantly parted your lips, taking the ticket between your teeth. He gave you a pleased grin, taking his hand back. “Won’t you use my ticket this time?”
You spat out the ticket, starting down at the (now slightly crumpled) green surface with suspicious eyes. “I already have a ticket.”
He laughed, looking a little irked. “You do, for better or worse.” He leaned in one last time, teeth brushing over the shell of your ear. “But don’t forget who had you first.”
He left, then, through the balcony he came from. You hissed in pain. Now that there was no pleasure to distract you, all you were left with was the pain of all the wounds, and the irritation of having to clean all this up. You flopped back onto your bed for a moment, staring up at the ceiling, and hoping he was feeling the same sort of pain from that bitten tentacle of his.
You tilted your head to the side. The green ticket lay beside you, small yet imposing. You snatched it, tossing it into your drawer. You’d clean up in the morning. For now, all you wanted to do was sleep.
You take a few steps back, squinting as you try to visualize Dorian’s joke about a double-door.
“Would that even fit in he- oop! Sorry, hun.”
You absentmindedly cut yourself off, apologizing instinctually as soon as your hip makes contact with the table.
“It’s alright, sweetheart.” You whip around instantly, eyes wide, only to remember what exactly the lenses on your face do exactly, and bury your embarrassed smile in your hands.
Abel’s laugh is light and teasing, it pairs well with the quiet chuckle Dorian thought he could hide.
“D’you forget I was there darlin’?” Abel wraps his arms around your waist still snickering softly as he tucks his face into your neck, forcing your hands away from your blushing face.
“No…? …ANYWAY-“ you do your best to move the conversation away from your silly mistake, but you all know it’s no use. This is neither the first, nor the last time that this will happen.
(GRAAGAGAHAARR IDK how good this is but I wanted to try anyways. I hope you liked it! <3)
To kill someone is a form of objectification in the most litteral scence. You can not take away agency more than that. Hazbin makes it clear this is also how it viwes murder spefically when we see Vicente's and Alastor's murder. Vincent's murders make people nothing more than tools for him to climb higher and Alastor's are tools for his "fun".
Thats why I harp on this being the point of no return for them.
Vox trying to kill Alastor for good is the moment he has truely and completly stoped seeing him as a person. This is the unforgivable sin to Alastor. This is the thing Alastor hates most it's worse than being seen as weak it's not even being seen as a person.
And maybe it's hypocritical because he kills people except no it's not becuase the 2 of them where eachouthers exceptions. They were "almost equal", they where rivals, they where enemy's, and at least that was being something, being seen as powerful. This now this was being seen as nothing.
Hello ! 🩷 I was wondering if you would would be interested in writing some angst to fluff with a Date Everything homeowner and Doug - where they’re a real big supporter, like they really go above and beyond to make sure everyone is well tended to and happy ( which they attempt to include him in as well ), but they’re also real sensitive, and he eventually gets to them, and he has to do his best to comfort his human that he’s been trying to act like he doesn’t like. Ugh 😔🩷
Holy fucking christ I got this ask months ago 😭 I’m sorry chat I have not been getting around to these very well.
Doug always has his eye on you whenever you’re around other objects. He doesn’t even do it consciously, it’s like second nature to him to want to see what you’re doing. But unfortunately, that does mean he notices how you go above and beyond to make everyone happy, and in the process, get hurt, either emotionally or physically. Even objects that aren’t directly hostile to you can take a toll, its just the stress of dealing with it all.
You’re almost exactly like him in a way, cheering everyone on even when it’s detrimental. When you finally get around to using the dateviators on him he’s completely ecstatic, hoping that for once, he can be your biggest supporter. He’d of course distract you with sports, but also remind you to take breaks a lot. Sometimes if he notices you being upset he’ll ask you to come help him with a much lower stakes task so you can still fulfill that supporting urge without having to fry yourself in the process.
Characters: Eddison Watts, Volt, Original Character (requested)
Warnings: injury
Written for @moniquestar0724
Volt had left the house that day with a smile on his face, having just gotten the opportunity to spend some time with Monique. His wife, unlike his husband, was far removed from all this, and due to how much time his official job and his night job took he didn’t get to relax with her as much as he would have liked. Before he went out, he had kissed her hand, telling her to have fun, as she had mentioned getting ready to go out with one of her friends. He was always cautious in his evildoing when he knew she was out on the town, but he could let loose a little more being assured she’d be at Sam’s place.
His target that night was a jewelry store. A small one, so he assumed it would be a simple, easy job. It should have been, anyways. He was halfway through shoving a bagful of goods into his pocket when a sound not unlike a hurricane blasted through the room, picking up all the shattered glass on the ground and spinning it in the air. He already knew who it was, but still, he whipped around to face her, the city’s hero.
“Look who’d finally decided to join me!” He laughed, giving her a polite, grandiose bow. A hindrance, of course, but in all honesty he never minded fighting her. It made things so, so much more interesting, after all. “Come to stop me in my tracks? Your determination is admirable, but as always, useless. But you’re welcome to try! I do enjoy seeing your valiant efforts.”
He couldn’t see her face beneath her mask, but he knew she was unimpressed, the broken glass swirling around her like a barbed shield. “Just put the bag down, and we don’t have to do this.”
He laughed, low and rich. “You really are so naive. It’s almost cute.” Electricity shot down his arm, reaching through the air like tendrils in her direction. She dodged expertly, just like always. He enjoyed this little game. After all, no matter how hard he went, he knew she wouldn’t actually get hurt. She was too skilled, too good at her craft. He could let loose everything he had without feeling bad for the poor thing, not like he’d spare her otherwise. He had more important things to worry about than some stranger’s well being, especially an adversary like her. They fell into their typical rhythm of trading blows, lightning flashing blinding white in the room, wind effortlessly tossing tables and shrapnel, deflecting his every attack. He hopped up on the counter to avoid a blast, throwing another bolt of electricity in her direction. It seemed to catch her off guard, striking her in the face.
She let out a yelp, stumbling backwards. Volt laughed at the small victory, taking the advantage and lunging forward, getting past her before she could recover. “It was a pleasure to work with you again, but I must take my leave!”
She didn’t respond, probably too stunned. The sirens outside were getting closer, so he resolved to clear out before he had any more trouble. The jewelry was safely tucked away in his pocket. Eddie would be pleased. And so would Monique. She didn’t know, of course. She could never know. But she’d enjoy the gifts he was already planning to get her with the cash they were about to pawn. God, he could already imagine the bright smile on her face.
He hid away for a while on a rooftop, counting out the items he stole. A good haul. He reached into his pocket to check his phone.
His pocket was empty.
He froze, digging around in the fabric frantically for a moment before heaving a long, irritated sigh. He must have dropped it in the scuffle with the hero, and it was somewhere amidst the knocked over chairs and broken glass now adorning the floor of the jewelry shop. He flopped down on the ground, running his hands down his face. It was just his luck. That place could be swarming with cops right now, and he wouldn’t be able to just waltz in and grab it as either a civilian or a villain. But it had been a while… maybe they’d cleared out? He’d go and take a look, anyways. A little twinge of fear shot through him. If they had found his phone, they’d know his identity, and maybe they’d be able to link it up to him. Shit. He stood, shoving the counted jewelry back into his pocket, thinking of what sort of alibi he’d come up with to play it off.
Surprisingly, the place seemed rather empty. Crossed off with caution tape, but the street was barren given the late hour, and all the law enforcement must have gone home for the day. Still, he crept up slowly, peaking through the shattered window before carefully slipping inside, keeping as quiet as he could, avoiding the piles of ruined stock and broken glass.
He looked around. No sight of the phone. Under the turned over chairs. Nothing. He crawled under the counter, rooting around, and… there! He let out a long sigh of relief as he pulled the phone back to him, checking the time. Past midnight, no new texts from his two loves. A few from his clients, but he’d deal with those later. He slipped it back into his pocket, shifting around to take his leave.
Muffled footsteps, somewhere in the store. His heart dropped, and he went still, peeking out from where he hid beneath the counter. Someone was coming out of the back room, carrying… something. He squinted his eyes to get a better look, but the figure turned on the light, letting him see them.
A woman obscured in clothing clearly made for fighting, a mask sitting on her face. His eyes widened. The hero? What the hell was she doing here still? He remained in place, watching as she shoved the broom in her hand to the floor, beginning to sweep some of the broken glass to the side.
No way.
Was she cleaning the place up?!
Was the city so understaffed they had their greatest line of defence doing janitorial volunteer work?! Volt honestly didn’t know how to feel about that. Seeing his greatest enemy, the larger-than-life, adored and revered hero doing something as menial and normal as sweeping was almost comedic. It humanized her in a way, reminding him that there was, in fact, just a regular person beneath that mask, like him and Eddie. He had often wondered who she was, if they had passed by each other on the street, or maybe even met before, each none the wiser of how many cuts and bruises they had given each other. But his amused mood immediately shifted, falling into something entirely different when a little sound reached his ears.
So quiet it was barely imperceptible, but it was unmistakable. Sniffling.
His blood ran cold.
The hero who had defeated him countless times, who served as his unflinching and unyielding enemy for years, was… crying?
He strained, trying to get a closer look. Indeed it was, she was crying. Her head was lowered, her movements sluggish, shoulders shaking just slightly with each quiet sob. He felt a little twinge of… what was this? Sympathy? He should be relishing in the sight, but instead, it was downright disturbing. It was wrong in a way he couldn’t explain, and he sure as hell didn’t like the sight. What happened? Was it because she lost that night? …Did she do this after every fight?
His fingertips dug into his palm.
The hero continued to clean. She brushed glass into neat little piles. She picked up broken chairs, turning them right side up. Then, she paused, stopping to just take a few deep breaths and cry. Volt could admit he felt bad for the little hero. He took no joy in seeing a person at their lowest like this.
She raised her hand slowly, hand brushing over the edge of her mask. Volt felt his heart stop in his chest, and he almost let out a gasp. Was she actually about to reveal herself?! He felt like he should turn away and give her the privacy, like he was seeing something wholly inappropriate. In a way, he was. Seeing another hero or villain’s secret identity… that was another level of being exposed, like part of your soul being bared. But his curiosity won out. He squinted to get a better look as she lifted up the mask, running a hand down her now exposed cheek.
His entire body went numb.
It felt briefly like the world was turning inside out, collapsing in on itself. He shouldn’t have looked. He shouldn’t have looked. But then again, he needed to see this. The person under the mask… The woman he had been fighting, and arguing with, and hurting for years was his wife. She was there, clear as day, just as she was when he kissed her goodbye hours earlier. Except for one detail. The large, sprawling electrical burn on her face, marring her cheek, crawling just slightly around her neck. Volt’s stomach turned.
He couldn’t help but suck in a breath. This was more information than one man could process in a single moment, and so many things hit him at once. Monique was the hero this whole time. Monique was crying. Monique was injured, and it was because of him. How many times had she come home with a scratch or a little burn he’d fretted over and bandaged, the perfect image of a doting husband, completely unaware that he was the cause he had cursed? What cruel joke was this? He wanted to laugh and cry and scream all at once. He wanted to run out from under the counter and hug her. He wanted to flee the country and never face her again out of shame. His heart was beating so fast he thought it might break through his ribcage as he watched her wipe her tears, before sliding the mask back over her face. She walked over to the doorway again, slipping into the back room. Volt took the opportunity to slip away, back into the cold night air.
The calmness he usually found in the quiet city streets was replaced with the oppressive, crushing feeling of guilt. He was angry. At the world for setting it all up this way, at himself for not noticing, and a little bit at Monique for throwing herself into danger so carelessly like that, even when that danger was him.
He was a danger to his wife. He felt nauseous again. This wasn’t how the night was supposed to go, not at all. He was supposed to defeat the hero, grab the jewels, go home and fall into the waiting arms of his husband and wife, comfortable and happy, just like always. But he couldn’t do that now. He couldn’t not after what he’d seen. He could barely imagine looking her in the eye again, let alone so brazenly asking for her affection after he’d just hours before burned her so badly she was sobbing alone in a dark, abandoned store. His hand shook as he took his phone out of his pocket, slipping into an alley and pulling up Eddie’s contact. He needed time, and he thought he might be able to give it to him.
“...Volt?” Eddie’s groggy voice soothed him just a little. He sounded like he had been rudely awoken, and Volt could picture with perfect clarity his mussed up hair, that little annoyed expression on his face. “Uh… Jesus Christ, it’s late. What’s up?”
“Eddie.” The word came out much more desperately than he would have liked, an uncharacteristic shake to his voice.
The line went silent for a second, then Eddie spoke again, much more awake-sounding. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”
Volt took a moment, willing his hand to stop shaking as he held the phone up to his ear. “...Something did. Don’t worry, though. I’m alright, just… shaken,” Lying to him like this felt like ash in his throat. He gripped the phone tighter, briefly considering telling Eddie exactly what happened, what he saw back there.
No. He’d barely even held it together himself, how would Eddie even keep his composure? With all the guilt and insecurity he already carried… Oh, he would not take this well at all. It might even send him spiralling. Volt swallowed, trying to keep his voice as low and smooth as possible. “Is… I’m going to be staying out a little longer than expected. We’re going to talk about it later, okay? Just not now. Is Monique home?”
“...Not yet. Why?”
“When she does get home, I want you to do something for me, okay?” He paused, taking a deep, shaky breath. “I want you to make love to her.”
Another bit of silence, then, Eddie’s confused voice sputtering out something incoherent. “Wuh– huh? Volt, what the fuck is going on?”
“Please, just… She’s had a long day, she must be stressed, the poor thing. I want you to take her mind off of things.” It wasn’t entirely a lie, but it did downplay the severity of the situation drastically. “Savour her. Please. As if it was your last day with her. I want you to make sure she feels as loved and cherished as possible.”
“Volt, you’re really fucking freaking me out here.” Eddie’s voice had a little more urgency to it. “What’s going on?”
“Please… just do it for me. I promise it will all make sense soon. We’re all safe, but she’ll be upset. Cheer her up for me, will you?”
“Volt–”
“Thank you, my dear Eddie.”
He hung up, then turned his notifications off, sliding down to the alleyway floor. He needed a long, long moment alone. His head was spinning, but he found some solace in knowing that she would be taken care of while he took the time to process everything.
—
When Volt hung up on him, Eddie just stared at his phone for a moment too long. He considered calling back, texting, something. He considered going out and looking for him on his own. God, he was worried beyond belief. Volt never pulled cryptic bullshit like this, especially when it came to their wife, unless it was entirely genuine. He tapped his fingers against his leg, trying to calm himself down. He had to trust in Volt and… whatever this was. Besides, It wasn’t like his request was something Eddie didn’t want to do. Far from it, in fact, it was a pleasant proposition that he would have leapt at the chance to carry out if it had been said in any other context. He was worried about Volt, but he was also worried about Monique. Something was going on, and he hated being none the wiser.
When he heard the sound of their front door closing, followed by her soft footsteps, Eddie’s heart almost jumped out of his chest. He quickly opened his phone, hoping to look like he was just casually scrolling, and not on the verge of a panic. She paused at the doorway, and Eddie let himself look up, keeping his voice as steady as he could manage. “You’re home late.”
In the darkness of the room, he could only make out the idea of her. But her voice was slightly startled and shaken as she spoke. “You’re up late…”
He shut off his phone, placing it to the side and patting the spot beside him in bed invitingly. He half considered telling her about Volt’s cryptic phone call, but he still didn’t know the full story, and if he messed something crucial up? He’d never forgive himself. To his surprise, she didn’t come to him right away. She lingered in the doorway hesitantly, and he could make out the hint of her face, turned pointedly away from him. He sat up straighter.
“You okay, live wire?”
“Uh– yeah, just…” She paused, seemingly considering something. Eddie beckoned her a little more urgently.
“C’mere. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like a mess, and you clearly need to lay down.” He huffed out. She loitered there for a moment longer, before finally relenting, moving closer.
When she joined him in bed, she immediately shifted to face away from him. Part of him wanted to just guide her to look at him properly, but when she was so clearly worked up about something like this, he didn’t want to test his luck by pushing her too far. He knew how she could get at times, anyways. It might just be a bad day, and he’d make it worse by forcing her insecurities into the spotlight. Still, Volt’s words echoed in his mind, and even if they didn’t, he wanted nothing more in that moment than to make her feel better. He tentatively placed a hand on her back, testing the waters. She tensed, then relaxed under his touch, so he glided up to gently scrape the back of her neck, then lower, ghosting over her hip.
“Y’know… I know it’s late, but you look like you need some proper stress relief.”
She tensed again, but for seemingly a very different reason this time. Eddie smiled, pressing a kiss between her shoulderblades. “What do you say? Gonna let me help?”
“...Are you sure? You need to sleep.” She met his gaze over her shoulder. He gave her hip a reassuring squeeze, shifting closer to her.
“Don’t worry about me, live wire. I couldn’t sleep anyway. Maybe this’ll tire me out enough.”
She remained quiet for a moment, still making the effort to hide her face. Eddie didn’t bother to press, instead shifting his attention to the rest of her body, fingertips pressing languid circles into the sliver of exposed skin where her shirt rode up. After a moment, she loosened under his touch, letting out a long breath as she relaxed. “I think I might need that right now.”
He couldn’t help but smile, leaning over to kiss her cheek before moving his hands down her body, sliding beneath the hem of that shirt to run over her abdomen, moving higher, then dipping lower, ghosting over the waistband of her pants as he pressed kiss after kiss to the back of her neck, peppering every inch of exposed skin he could find. He felt her slowly begin to relax further, her body responding to him easily. He pulled her closer, guiding her to face him. She still pressed her face into the pillow, so he rested his forehead against her collarbone, pulling one of her legs over his waist as he moved a hand between them.
Savour her, Volt had said. Eddie was glad to comply, slipping his hand beneath that waistband to fee; underneath. He felt her arms wrap around him, her hands coming up to entangle in his hair, pressing him against her like she hadn’t felt touch in weeks. God, she seemed so wound up. He tried to be gentle, hoping the rough surface of his hands wouldn’t interfere with the softness he was meaning to convey. She let out a little breath, moving against him as pressed two fingers against her clit, moving in a slow, circular motion.
“Thank you.” She sighed, burying her face in his hair. He smiled against her skin, pressing a little kiss to her sternum.
“For what?”
“For… this. Right now.” Her voice was so uncharacteristically meek. It made something inside Eddie’s chest curl uncomfortably. He hated seeing her like this– in pain, in stress, clinging to him like he was her only life raft in a sea of her own emotion. He had no idea what happened that day to put her in this state. If he found out someone was responsible for this, he’d be sure to let them have it. He wished that Volt was with them. Eddie didn’t think himself to be too good at the whole comfort thing, even if his two lovers assured him repeatedly that he was. He had little to offer besides himself, and for the longest time, he didn’t think that was enough. But when her hands were in his hair, her hips gently rocking into his slow, steady touch, he felt good. He felt needed. He pressed up a little harder, moving his fingers up and down on her, adjusting his pace based on each sound or shift she gave him in turn. Oddly enough, when he ghosted his fingertips over her jaw, he felt something odd. He couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong. It was like the skin there was a bit rougher, a bit hot to the touch. But she didn’t react, so he moved on, focusing on the parts of her he could pinpoint.
“Don’t you dare thank me.” He mumbled, moving his hand down from her clit to slip one of his fingers inside of her, then slowly added another, curling them up against her sweet spot. “I’m not doing you a favour. I want to be here. More than anything, actually.”
“Do you mean that?” Her voice wavered. He nodded, lifting his head to kiss her neck next.
“Would I lie to you, of all people?”
She paused, then gave a soft little laugh. “No… I guess you wouldn’t.” Her hands moved down, running along the length of his spine, down, then slowly dragging back up, sending a shiver through his body. “I trust you.”
He swallowed thickly, dipping out his fingers to go back to working her clit, feeling her little groan rumble through his body. He kissed the base of her throat tenderly, then parted his lips to bite down, just enough for her to feel his teeth, like a confirmation that he was there, with her, and he wouldn’t be leaving any time soon. He had to restrain himself from biting down harder, leaving a mark for all to see. He wanted to be gentle tonight. She looked like she needed it, and Volt’s words still sat fresh in his mind, guiding his loving movements. “Now that’s what I like to hear.”
He felt her tense, shaking a little under his touch. He knew she was close. Perhaps any other night, he may have removed his fingers, taken some pleasure in teasing her. But tonight, he just sped up his motions, making sure she’d have a proper release after what must have been a very, very stressful day. He relished in the sound of her pleasure, moaned into his ear with a voice he could spend forever wrapped in. He whispered soft reassurances as he stroked her through it, making sure she’d get every last aftershock of bliss before pulling his fingers off.
He pulled back from her, observing her face. He couldn’t see it as well as he wished to, not with the darkness of the room, and half of it still pressed firmly into the pillow. He raised his fingers, the ones that were just inside of her, up to his lips, letting his tongue run along their surface. Her eyes widened at the sight, and he grinned, leaning in to kiss her proper for the first time that night. He felt her smile into it, deepening their intimacy with a little tug on the roots of his hair.
“How do you feel?” He whispered against her lips when they drew apart, feeling her breath fan his lips with each pant.
“Why ask? You know I feel good.”
“Just making sure.” He had half the mind to ask for another round. Part of him wanted to kiss down the rest of her body, to bury his head between her thighs for hours on end. But instead, he pulled the covers up around them tighter, holding her close. They both needed sleep, desperately. She was stressed, and he’d been working non stop. It was well in order, even if it was a bit disappointing he’d have to act on his desires at a later date. Instead, he pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead before resting his chin atop her head. “Go to sleep. You need it.”
He held her until she fell asleep against him, resisting the urge to call for Volt. He’ll see him in the morning. He always did.
—
When Volt came home, he was exhausted, more tired than he’d felt in a long, long time. Still, he made a beeline for the bedroom, anxiety worming in his chest. He breathed out the largest sigh of relief when he saw her, curled up in Eddie’s arms, chest rising and falling steadily with each relaxed breath. His relief was short lived, however, as he remembered what exactly happened only hours earlier.
He almost didn’t dare to look, but he did. He moved closer and summoned a spark of electricity, just enough to illuminate her face.
“Fuck…”
His breath caught. The burn was nasty, sprawling across her cheek. He felt his chest burning, throat choking up with unshed tears. He bit his lip, willing himself to stay quiet as he crawled into bed. He had to keep his cool. He reached out to gently stroke her cheek, running his fingers along the roughened skin of the wound, as if in silent hope he may heal what he had done. He soon fell asleep, head against her chest, needing to hear her heartbeat to properly relax.
—
It was difficult to hide the burn from her two husbands the next morning, but Monique had somehow managed it. She thought she managed, anyway. She got the strangest feeling around Volt, like he was staring straight through her. She paid it no mind, wished them well as they went off to work, and she went off to hers. The moment it was over, she quickly made her way to her favoured walk-in clinic.
Farya looked downright scandalized when she walked in, ushering her to sit and scolding her for waiting so long before seeing someone over such an injury. It was not a serious burn, in that it wasn’t deadly and would fade with time, but that didn’t mean it was something to just brush over.
“...apply this to the burn twice daily. Avoid irritating it, and make sure it's clean.” She finished up her lengthy explanation, sitting back down in her chair with a sigh. “...Sorry, but may I ask where you got this burn? It doesn’t look like any regular accident.”
Monique swallowed nervously, but her silence spoke volumes. Farya’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, and she set her clipboard down on her lap, voice growing deathly serious. “...It was from one of the villains, wasn’t it?”
She wanted to deny it, to protest, but couldn’t. “...It was a stray blast.”
“It could have ended much, much worse.” Farya was uncharacteristically upset. “...When are you going to tell your husbands?”
She froze, the mere idea sending a jolt of fear through her body. “I’m not.”
“Monique–”
“They have enough stress in their lives.” She protested, shaking her head. “And… finding out about me… I don’t know what it’d do to them. I can’t just tell them. Not after everything.”
Faya was silent for a moment, brows furrowed. Then, she sighed, picking her clipboard back up. “Well… I can’t force you. But as your doctor, I suggest you give it some thought. For your health, and for theirs.”
She breathed a sigh of relief, and Farya continued.
“As your emergency contacts, they’ll be alerted if anything arises. But your superhero business isn’t my secret to tell.”
“Thank you.”
“Take care. And don’t forget the treatment!”
They certainly were not happy when she finally told them about her injury, but a quick excuse about a kettle calmed them down somewhat. Volt still seemed off, but not enough for Monique to question it. She assumed he just had a bad couple days at work, and happily snuggled up to him on the couch as Eddie was out working late again.
she allowed herself to enjoy this moment of peace watching movies with Volt before finally getting the resolve to stand up and do it.
“Ah, where to, live wire?”
“...Just gonna get some takeout.” She made an excuse. He seemed to stare at her just a little too long, his smile too tight. But he didn’t question it as she went for the door, just telling her to be safe. She could have sworn she saw a flash of panic on his face right before she left, and his hand frantically reaching for his phone, but didn’t stop to question it. She had a villain to fight, after all.
—-
Eddie made a leap over a railing, getting onto one of the many rooftops of the city. He had a pretty successful crime spree thus far that night, and he’d be damned if he broke that streak just because some hero started chasing him. He knew she would show up, she always did. It was uncanny, really, how she seemed to have this sixth sense, always knowing when there was some sort of trouble afoot. He heard his phone ringing, and he took it out and set it on silent. He couldn’t have any distractions at the moment, nor did he need a stray ring giving him away as he continued to move. When he saw her outline in the shadows on the upcoming rooftop, he chuckled, already slipping into the routine he had always had with that hero.
“You’re out late. Nothing better to do than chase me around?”
“Wouldn’t have to if you didn’t keep stealing.” She pointed to the bag around his waist. “What’s in that?”
“Here? Oh, c’mon… I didn’t steal nothin’. Nothing worth your time anyways. Listen, I’m not itching for a fight right now, so if you wanna just save us both the trouble…”
“Absolutely not. Hand me that bag or things will get ugly.”
Eddie clicked his tongue, placing a hand on the rooftop below him, drawing manifested wires from the cement, crackling with electric energy. He readied himself for the inevitable fight, eyes fixed on the hero. “Sorry. I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
She dodged the wires as they shot in her direction, nearly stumbling off of the rooftop before catching herself with one of her manifested gusts of air. He took advantage of the momentary vulnerability to grab her ankle, dragging her closer, but before he could send a shock through it she slammed her boot down on the cable. He felt it like a physical blow, retracting quickly and accidentally allowing her to jump back up into action with a blast of her ability in his direction. It continued on like that for a while, dodge, blow, dodge, blow, and then, a hit. Eddie was knocked to the side, hitting the metal railing hard. The hero approached, and he stood to his feet, taking a second to recover from the wind knocked out of him. He lost. But he did have on saving grace— she was so caught up in him she hadn’t noticed the wire behind her.
“Ready to surrender?”
“Mm… no.” He slammed that wire into her shoulder with a bright flash of electricity. She went rigid, not even crying out at the sudden pain. He retracted, vaulting over the railing and jumping down to the metal stairs of the fire escape below.
He laid low for a moment, knowing she’d be too caught up in her injury to see where he went. When he was sure she had left the area, he got up to leave himself, but not before checking the time on his phone.
He raised his brows at the notification on his screen. A voicemail from Volt? He never tried to contact him when he knew he was on villain duty. He hovered his thumb over the notification banner for a moment before committing and pressing down, keeping the volume low as he raised it to his ear.
He froze in place as the panicked voice rung out, startling him out of his skin. He stayed completely still as the frantic words hit him.
Eddie, please, just listen to me. I know this is sudden, but you can’t hurt the hero.
As the voicemail played, Eddie caught a glimpse of a form walking down the alley beneath him. He crouched, looking down from between the bars of the fire escape. He realized with a start that it was the hero, clutching her injured shoulder, mask askew.
I know it's hard when fighting, but please try not to go too far.
His eyes widened as her hand suddenly lifted to her mask. Her back hit the wall, and she slid down to the ground. With a shaky motion, she took off her mask. He only caught the barest glimpse of her face before she buried it in her knees, but it was enough.
He nearly dropped his phone.
I’ll explain everything later but trust me, she’s–
He shut off the voicemail, breath coming out in ragged puffs of air. He tore his gaze away from the sight of the hero, unable to bear it. The ringing in his ears did little to cover the quiet sounds of her sobs, and each one felt like another stab through his chest. He didn’t know how long he stayed there when time seemed to slow like this, but when the hero left, he let out a long breath, grabbing his phone and frantically calling Volt.
—-
Monique opened the door to her home with shaky hands, holding the take out tightly. Her shoulder still stung, radiating pain through her body as her eyes burned from her earlier tears. She had tried her best to cover the evidence of her crying, but she knew they still must be bloodshot.
Volt practically shot up from the couch when she stepped inside, a brief look of odd panic on his face before he schooled his features back into his usual composure. “There you are. I was beginning to grow worried.”
“Worried? Why?”
“Nevermind that.” He moved closer, taking the take out from her arms. “Let’s put this in the fridge for now. I’m not hungry, and you look like you need rest before you need food.”
She blinked in surprise and confusion, tilting her head. “Volt? Is something wrong?”
“Nothing.” He said too quickly, eyes flicking around her body. It seemed to be more of a concerned action than an appreciative one, like he was looking for something. Then, his hand reached out, brushing just barely against the side of her neck. Before it could reach her injured shoulder, she grabbed it, squeezing it reassuringly.
“Something’s wrong.”
“I assure you, nothing is.” He shook his head, his other hand coming up to snake around her waist. In an instant, that charming smile he always wore was back on his face, and his concerned voice had dropped low and sultry. “Shall we head to bed? You look like you can use some… comfort.”
She hesitated for a moment, brows furrowed. It wasn’t like he was wrong, quite the opposite, in fact. She absolutely could do with what he was offering. It was the strangeness of the situation that threw her off. She eventually gave in, however, entwining her fingers in his.
He let out a long breath of relief, his expression softening significantly. He talked as he led her into the room, but she barely listened, more focused on the warmth of his palm against hers. He raised her hand to kiss her knuckles, guiding her to sit on the edge of the bed.
As she placed a hand on his jaw and drew him into a kiss, he relaxed into it, hands roving over her body. There was still that sense of urgency in every one of his movements, like she might disappear at any moment. She shivered when his hands slipped beneath her shirt, roaming over the bare expanse of her back, then moving down to her hips.
“How do you feel, Live Wire?”
“...Better now.” She said honestly. He didn’t know about the injury, but it had significantly improved since she got home. It still ached, but it was bearable. And with Volt’s lips on her collarbone, she could almost forget all about it in favour of focusing entirely on him. He nodded slowly, sinking down to his knees.
“I’ll make it much, much better soon.”
She entangled her hands in his hair, gently pulling at the roots as he began to work on removing her lower clothing. His hands moved with uncharacteristic desperation, his eyes flicking around her body. She didn’t comment on it this time, more concerned with focusing on the way his hands parted her legs, and his hot breath fanned against her centre over the thin fabric of her underclothing.
“You don’t have to.” She breathed out, and he chuckled, like the very idea was absurd, kissing her upper thigh.
“I know. But I want to.” He clarified, removing that last piece of clothing. She shivered as the cold air of the room hit her, contrasted with the comforting warmth of Volt’s steady hands. She used her grip in his hair to pull him closer, and he gladly dove in, dragging his tongue slowly up, settling on her clit and circling around it.
Her eyes fluttered shut, chest stuttering with each shaky breath as he continued. It was strange, his tongue always felt oddly electric, like static shocks played over her skin with each lap against her. Her thighs involuntarily pressed into either side of his head, and he let out a muffled groan, speeding up just a little.
It felt good to lose herself for a moment. To forget about it all. Of the injuries she’d sustained, of the villains she failed to bring to justice. All she had to do was guide him with her hand, whisper assurances under her breath every time he sped up or slowed down, and rock her hips up against him, chasing her pleasure just as much as he did. His hands gently rubbed comforting circles into her outer thighs, thumbs pressed just a little into her skin. The gentleness was welcome. It was so, so welcome. It wasn’t long before she felt that familiar ramp up of pleasure in her lower abdomen. He clearly realized she was getting close, his tongue pressing down harder, determined to push her over the edge. She let it happen, gripping his hair tighter, keeping him against her as she fell over that peak and came onto his tongue.
Her thighs fell to the side, and he pulled off, licking off his lower lip. His hazy eyes looked up at her through his thick eyelashes, staying on his knees. She shakily carded her fingers through his hair, and he let out a pleased breath, closing his eyes and resting his head against her thigh. He pressed a few more soft kisses to the exposed skin there before slowly standing, kissing her lips next. She melted into it, allowing him to push her back onto the bed, guiding her beneath the welcoming sheets. He spoke to her in hushed tones as she drifted off, the exhaustion of the day not making it difficult for her to finally fall asleep.
—
Volt paced the dark room as quietly as he could, running a hand through his mussed-up hair. His wife was asleep now, but he wouldn’t be able to find any rest. The moment he heard the front door opening, he rushed out of the room.
One look at his husband’s wide, bloodshot eyes told him all he needed to know. He’d found out.
“Oh, Eddie…”
“I’m sorry, I–” He stammered, looking more out of sorts than Volt had ever seen him. “I didn’t see your voicemail in time, and–”
“It’s alright. She’s perfectly fine, Eddie. Please, calm yourself so we can talk about this.”
A brief flicker of relief crossed Eddie’s face at the knowledge of her safety, but it was gone as quickly as it came. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
Volt went silent for a moment. To tell the truth, he didn’t fully know himself. He was still trying to process the knowledge, scared to tackle the problem head on. “...I’m sorry.”
Eddie sighed, hanging his head for a moment. Volt gathered him into a tight hug, and he weakly reciprocated, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.
“We have to tell her.”
“Eddie…”
“No, she deserves to know.” He shook his head before burying it in Volt’s shoulder. “You can’t hide from this forever, and you know that.”
“Even if she’ll leave us?”
Eddie went silent for a moment, then solemnly nodded. “Even if she leaves us.”
Volt let out a long breath. “...We’ll have to do it slowly.”
—-
When committing their crimes the next day, Eddie and Volt went together. They were more subdued than usual, hoping to complete their work without drawing the attention of the hero. They were so close to avoiding a fight, but just at the tail end of their excursion, they were accosted by her in the middle of the empty metro system.
“Wait– you should go.” Volt’s voice was slightly rough, clearly trying to keep the recognition from his voice. “We’re not in the mood for a fight.”
The hero straightened, summoning some wind at her fingertips. “You should have considered that before your crime spree.”
Eddie dodged one of her blows, skidding across the concrete ground. He exchanged a panicked glance with Volt, who looked just as panicked. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Fight any longer, and they could hurt her again. Hold back too much, and they could be the ones getting hurt. Take off their masks, and a stray security camera might spell their downfall. There had to be some way to get the three of them back home safely.
Eddie raised his wires in a silent suggestion, and Volt’s eyes widened at the implication. He hesitated for a moment, before nodding.
Volt distracted the hero for a moment, bringing her closer, then letting out a blinding flash of electric light. As she was momentarily stunned, Eddie came in with the wires, binding her before she could retaliate.
—-
Monique had never been so off her game as she was that night in the metro. Having faced two injuries and several sleepless nights, she was already exhausted. Perhaps that is why she was so easily distracted, and why she was currently tied up in thick wires, several strung over her eyes in a makeshift blindfold. She cursed herself, feeling her heart pound as she was set down into a… surprisingly comfy seat. A couch? Why would they bother placing their captive on a couch? She tensed as the wire around her eyes began to slide away.
She expected a lot of things when she got her vision back. A dingy basement, an alleyway, some sort of red room… but nothing could have emotionally prepared her for what she actually saw. Her own house.
She blinked a few times in shock. For a moment, she thought she must be dreaming. She quickly tried to keep her face neutral as she looked between the two villains standing in front of her. And just as she was about to panic over the locations of her husbands, the two began to take off their masks.
She tore her eyes away, heart suddenly burning with how fast it was beating. Her mind raced, unable to wrap itself around what it was seeing. The villains she had chased after, who she hurt a million times over, who had hurt her, were none other than two of her most cherished people. She would have sobbed right there if she weren’t in this situation. She couldn’t let them know that she knew. She had to–
Volt’s hand was suddenly on her cheek. In the midst of her emotion she hadn’t even heard him moving closer until he was gently pulling her to face him again. His fingertips ran over the edge of her mask, before slowly lifting it.
“Please, Live wire, don’t look so afraid of us.”
They knew.
She opened her mouth to say something, but all that came out was a jumbled mess. Stuttering something about Farya before his body was on hers, arms wrapped around her as if she might disappear at any moment. She stopped herself dead in her tracks when she felt the first sob rack through his body as he cried freely into her shoulder. Eddie withdrew his wires, stepping closer.
Unlike Volt, he was stoic. Standing up much too straight, jaw set tightly and brows furrowed. He looked like he was some sort of dam, holding back a torrent beneath. He placed an ice pack on the shoulder he had injured, then pulled back before he could even touch her. Almost like he was afraid to.
“Eddie…” She reached for him, but he pulled his hands away, looking down in shame and raking his nails down the side of his neck.
“If you want to leave, you can.” The words came out harsher than he likely intended, but his voice wobbled, almost cracking. The idea drew another sob from Volt, who hugged her even tighter.
“Live wire, I will miss you terribly.” He curled his fingers into the fabric of her clothing. “But… I will understand. If you choose to leave.”
“Leave?” The idea of leaving either of them would have seemed unthinkable just yesterday. And damn it, despite it all, it was still unthinkable. “Absolutely not.”
Eddie seemed oddly shocked by this, staring at her for a moment as if to confirm it. “Really?! I mean… Are you sure?”
“I’m not just going to leave you.” She felt her own tears coming on, blurring at the edge of her vision. “I can’t. I won’t.”
Volt lifted himself just enough to meet her gaze. His eyes were slightly red, and his hand found her jaw as he managed a small smile. “You’ll still have us?”
She gave a shaky nod, and he let out a breathy laugh.
“Well, fuck.” Eddie cracked a small smile, quickly joining in on the hug.
“And… honestly… Maybe this is a good thing. I don’t know, the fighting can be… an outlet of some sort for us.”
“It is quite good stress relief.”
“We’ll need some ground rules going forward, though.”
“Oh, certainly. We have to make sure no little… incidents happen again.” Volt gingerly touched the faded wound on her cheek as he spoke.
“I’d rather continue this conversation in bed.”
She slowly felt herself starting to relax again, for the first time in a long while. But there was still that gnawing guilt she couldn’t quite shake. “I’m sorry.”
They both raised their brows. “For what?”
She averted her gaze. “Hurting you.”
They paused, then Volt rapidly shook his head, taking her hands in his as Eddie spoke. “We all did what we had to do, Live Wire. We hurt you just as much as you hurt us. How about we just call it even and go to sleep?”
Their hands didn’t leave her for a second as they headed to the bedroom. They spent the better part of the night sleepless, limbs tangled in a desperate, apologetic mess. They only managed to rest when the rules were properly set, and all wounds were properly soothed.
There has to be some way to convince you not tell anyone what you've found about him. Perhaps that way is much simpler than he thought.
Maybe he just needs to lean back, hand around his cock while your eyes rove him greedily, and show you exactly what he could offer you.
Warnings: Smut, Gender Neutral Dominant Reader, Manga Spoilers, Sadomasochism, Belt used as a Slip Collar, Cock Piercing, Masturbation, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Cock & Ball Torture, Boot Worship, Kneeling, Oral Sex, Choking, Denial, Thigh Riding, Biting, Blood, Overstimulation, Scratching
Original Ao3 Link
The air was unbearably hot. It drew beads of sweat from Tamsy’s flushed skin with each movement he made as he peeled off his clothing, letting them fall to a pile in front of him. He made a show of it, unwrapping himself like some kind of gift while you sat in your armchair before him, hands steepled in your lap.
“My my, I’ve never seen you look so… stoic.” He chuckled, undoing the first button on his pants. He observed closely as your eyes narrowed, fixed hungrily on each of his carefully crafted ministrations. “It’s a little disappointing. I was hoping for at least some sort of reaction from you.”
Your jaw set a little more, a look of deep confliction settling over your face. He couldn’t help the smile that spread over his face as he undid the last button and let his pants fall to the floor, exposing his legs. He stepped out of the pooled fabric, slowly stepping backward until the back of his legs hit the edge of the bed. He collapsed down onto it, sitting up enough to meet your gaze but laying down enough for you to get a good eyeful of his spread, inviting legs. He had to be precise. He had to lure you properly. And that meant running a hand up his bare flesh, starting at his knee, trailing up his thigh, his hip, before settling it on his lower abdomen, fingers splayed out over his too-hot skin. “C’mon… Don’t tell me I’m going to have to do all the work myself?”
Despite his urging, you remained seemingly unphased. “Do you really think an underhanded tactic like this is going to work on me?”
“Underhanded? Don’t be like that.” He clicked his tongue, a little flash of irritation breaking through the sheer arousal he was feeling. His cock was practically straining against the last piece of fabric he was wearing, and he knew for a fact you could see it. Your gaze lingered on it a little too long, and for a moment, he allowed himself to imagine you coming closer, kneeling down… how good it would be, to feel your hot breath over that thin sheet of fabric, soothing that burning ache in his loins. He ran his tongue along the flat of his molars, his heart picking up a little at that wonderful, vivid fantasy. “You want me.”
“And what makes you think that?”
“You try to deny it, but I can see it. You want to move closer… put those lovely hands of yours on my hips, and just lose your mind, right?” He brushed the long strands of his hair from his face, moving that hand he had on his abdomen down, ghosting over his restrained cock. “All the while knowing exactly what I am.”
You visibly tensed at the mention of his identity, and he laughed, feeling some sense of triumph at being able to get under your skin so easily. “So, what do you say? I let you indulge those perverse little wants of yours, whenever you want, however you want… and you don’t tell a soul about what you know. Tempting, right?”
“I’m not some alley mutt you can dangle a treat over.” You protested, gripping the armrest tightly. “You’re a traitor. Plain and simple.”
“So, you are going to leave me hanging?”
You took in a sharp breath, then let it out slowly, running a hand down your face. It was a beautiful sight, he thought. Your hesitance. That lovely shadow of doubt over your brow as your morality warred with your desire. He played with the hem of his panties, the ones he purposefully picked out to be as enticing to you as possible. He revelled in the way your eyes lingered as he slowly began to slide them down, tracing the edge of one of his scars down to his thigh. He shivered as the warm air finally hit his cock, another little thrill going through his body. He traced a hand over it just barely, feeling the jacob’s ladder that ran up the underside of his cock. He put on a low, pleading tone, almost mocking in its overexaggerated, drawn-out cadence. “Please?”
He watched as you bit your lip, feeling a glow of triumph. He had you right where he wanted you, locked in place, and he didn’t even need to pull out any string to do it. Soon you’d fall to him, bend to his will and your hidden want, and he’d have you the way he’d been imagining for so long—
“No.”
He blinked in confusion, the wind completely knocked out of his sails. He couldn’t keep the slight irritation out of his voice as he tilted his head. “No?”
“No. I don’t feel like it.” You said it with the most annoying calmness he’d ever seen, leaning back in your seat like you were settling in for some sort of show. “Why don’t you do it yourself, if you’re so desperate? Show me why I should keep my mouth shut.”
He raised his brows at the slightly teasing glint in your eyes, anger sparking in the back of his mind. He clicked his tongue, leaning back and trailing his fingers over the base of his cock. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, but if you wanted a show, then so be it. “How troublesome.”
The ghost of a smile crossed your face, and he bit the inside of his cheek. Now this was a side of you he hadn’t seen before, and he wasn’t sure if it was thrilling, or annoying. Was he really wrong this whole time? Was this lying just beneath the surface, and he was only just now peeling back the layers? He funneled his frustration into his hands, palming at his cock. Despite the little hiccup in his plan, he was still painfully hard. Of course he wished it was your hand he could rut against instead, or your thigh, or your mouth… but he would have to make do with your gaze. At least it was a very captivating gaze, the kind he could meet for hours. After it all he was glad it was you who found out. He had a feeling that he didn’t need this whole song and dance to convince you, but he did it anyway, gathering the pre-cum that had begun to bead at the head on his palm, then wrapping his hand around his cock fully, beginning to move up and down. He let out a soft sigh, head lolling lazily to the side, exposing his neck. He watched as your eyes snapped up to that bare expanse of skin, Your lips falling apart just barely. He focused in on his piercings, tracing the cold metal with a fingertip.
“Well? Am I convincing?”
“...Not bad.” Your lips pulled up into a small smile as you leaned forward in your seat, getting a better vantage point. That sense of victory filled him again. Perhaps this wasn’t his ideal scenario, but it was proving to have quite the charm of its own. He traced the fingertips of his free hand down the side of his neck, lingering over his collarbone.
“Wouldn’t it be much better, if you stopped holding onto your pride?” He spoke in a whispery tone, looking at you through his lashes. “It’s just us in here. I won’t tell on you if you don’t tell on me.”
“Mm… nah, I think I’ll stay right here.” You waved him off, not even bothering to hide your enjoyment anymore. “It’s quite the view.”
He traced the hand down his body, moving it between his thighs. Your eyes widened almost imperceptibly as he spread them apart further, placing two fingers over his entrance, but not pushing in. He pulled those fingers apart, circling them around it as he sped up his strokes. He let his head fall back, another one of those sighs tumbling from his lips. He tried to focus on his own pleasure, knowing that the more genuine his expressions were, the more they would affect you. Arousal pooled in his lower body, heated and boiling over. He rolled his hips up into his touch, feeling that familiar swell of pleasure and pick up of his heart as he approached orgasm.
“Stop.” You suddenly spoke, your voice slightly strained and heavy.
That heat crashed as he pulled his hands off, raising them in mock defence. “What now?”
You hesitated briefly, then relented, leaning back and invitingly patting your thigh. “...C’mere.”
A grin slowly spread over his face, mind going briefly fuzzy with the satisfaction he felt. He stood, slowly prowling towards you, stepping over his discarded clothing. “I am glad you finally see what I can offer you.”
“Not in my lap.” You said sternly, stopping him before he tried by lifting a hand. You then let your wrist fall, pointing lazily down to the floor. He paused, following the direction over your finger.
“You want me to kneel? Oh, you’re more depraved than I thought!” He laughed. “Oh, my… You might be much more fun than I expected.”
“I’m sick of you, you know that–” You wrinkled your nose in disgust, but he placed a finger over your lips, giving you a long, drawn-out ‘shhh…’
“It’s endearing how much you say that, but we both know it isn’t true.” He smiled. “You want me to use my mouth on you?”
You hesitated, brows furrowed, then slowly nodded.
“That’s better.” He smiled, then slowly began to kneel down, placing his hands on your knees to part your thighs. “It’s attractive when you’re honest.”
Your eyes were piercing as they looked down at him, your head propped up on your hand, resting your elbow on the armrest. He could admit that it did something to him, on that human level he often didn’t acknowledge. It was sobering, how much he was affected by something so simple. He had a bit of viewing himself as in a different category than others. Not necessarily above, but something a little off from human. But now, looking up at you, he was undeniably just a person, desiring connection like any other. He wasn’t sure if he liked that. But he did like the pleasurable simmer in his chest. He did like knowing that he had your body under his control now, even if you didn’t know it. He placed a hand over your belt, unlooping it before pulling it off. But before he could toss it, you grabbed it from him. He raised his brows.
“Now what are you planning?”
“Lift your head.”
He let out a little sound when you took his jaw, pulling his head back to expose his throat. His heart dropped ever so slightly when you wrapped the leather around his neck, the slightly warm surface pressing just over his adam’s apple. He stayed still, allowing you to run it through the buckle. He braced himself, eyes wrenching shut as you pulled it taut, holding it like some sort of leash.
“A makeshift slip collar… mh…” He raised a hand, running it over the leather surface. “You are always full of surprises, aren’t you?”
It was like a mask had slipped off of your face, unrestrained arousal painted all over you. You lifted your hips to allow him to strip off your lower layers, exposing the skin beneath. “How does that feel?”
“Like nothing I’ve felt before.” It was the truth. He can’t say he’d ever let anyone collar him, but now that it was in place, he didn’t find it too uncomfortable. You tightened your hold on it, pulling it taut, making it press further into his neck. It made him just barely dizzy, dragging him closer to where you clearly wanted him most. “Oh! You’re excited. Do I really have such an effect on you?”
You averted your gaze, a brief hint of embarrassment crossing your face. “Am I not supposed to be excited, with you kneeling in front of me?”
“I guess it’s only natural. I’m not trying to make you feel like a pervert, here. Just saying what I see.” He leaned in, letting his breath fan over right where you’re sensitive. “And it's a good sight. A very good sight.”
“Shut up.” You mumbled, pulling the makeshift collar again, forcing him closer. “There are better uses for your mouth.
“Of course.” He gave a breathy laugh. “Desperate thing.”
Before you could retaliate, he darted out his tongue, pressing it flat against you. Whatever protest you could have made died on your tongue, replaced instead with a shaky, quiet breath. He loved every muted sound he managed to draw out of you, one hand rubbing circles into your outer thigh while the other snaked down to take care of his own arousal.
But before he could even reach, you lifted your leg, swiftly kicking him right between his legs. Unexpected pain shot through his body, and he doubled over, pulling his mouth off of you to cough and sputter, face pressed into your thigh. His hands flew to his lower regions, his eyes blurring as they watered with pain. He heaved a long groan, lips ajar, letting drool fall onto your skin. Right as he started to process what just happened, he felt your hand gently on his head, carding your fingers through his hair in an almost soothing motion. He sharply lifted his head, narrowing his eyes up at you.
“You…” He started, observing your face for a moment. Then, he let out a bark of laughter, letting his head drop into your lap again. “Oh, fuck!”
You laughed along, your hands moving along his scalp. “You deserve far worse than that, you know.”
“Oh, I’m sure you just want to hit me right in the ribs next. Or maybe my jaw. Wherever you know it's gonna hurt.” He could barely contain the excitement as he spoke. “You probably think this is justice. I think you just enjoy seeing me in pain, hm?”
He winced, flinching as your boot pressed down onto his cock again. This time, you didn’t kick him, just held it there, making him feel the threat. He swallowed thickly, furrowing his brows up at you. You looked briefly conflicted, before you pressed down further.
The spot was already sore, so what could have been just an uncomfortable pressure into a near mind-melting pain. And still, his cock twitched under that sole, even more aroused than before. This is what he wanted. How he wanted to see you from the start. Those true colours, those beautiful, vibrant true colours, laid bare in every show of sadism. Tamsy bucked his hips into your boot as he dove back in on his task, tongue lapping at you with renewed vigour. The unexpected stimulation tore another one of those delicious sounds from you, and it was music to his worn ears. He moaned into you, feeling you jolt at the vibrations of his tongue. You tugged on the collar, cutting off his airway, making his vision go white. He felt that orgasm building again, his body racked with waves of painful euphoria as he tried to focus both on pleasuring you and chasing his own bliss. The hand that wasn’t holding the belt was entangled in his hair, pushing him down and guiding his tongue. And when you breathed out his name, soft as anything on your lips, white-hot pleasure rolled through his body as he came.
He lifted himself off of you, and you yanked on the belt, dragging him into a desperate kiss. He groaned into it, hands moving down to replace his mouth on your sex, leaning over your seat. You drew him into your lap, and he took post on your thigh, feeling it against his spent cock while he deepened the kiss.
You pulled away to kiss down the side of his neck, tracing the edge of one of his many scars, running your lips along the red, irritated skin where the belt started. He placed a hand on the back of your head, pressing you closer, silently urging you to go further. Part of him hoped you’d fully bite into him, sink your teeth down and make him feel every bit of pain he had felt at the previous kick.
“What are you waiting for?” He spoke up when you didn’t immediately take the bait. “You want to bite, don’t you? Do it.”
“You really do treat me like some dog who can’t control themselves."
He laughed. “I treat you like a dog? Which one of us is in the collar?” He pulled you up, pressing your face into the leather as he pushed his fingers down onto your sweet spot, making you gasp. “Be good and bite me.”
You huffed and bounced your leg in protest, right into his aching, overstimulated cock. He let out a yelp, and right as he was reeling from the unexpected sensation, you bit down hard just under his jaw. His head went almost limp to the side, like a gazelle that knew it had been caught, resolved to just give up and accept its fate. His head swam with all the contradictory feelings. He still tasted you on his lips, still felt the radiating after-pain of the kick, the lovely after shocks of orgasm, the warmth of your touch, the fresh pain of your bite… it made his head spin, and he ground down onto your thigh with wild abandon. He wouldn’t be able to cum again so soon, and he knew it, but somehow, he just couldn’t stop attempting to get himself off anyways. He let out a wanton moan as you shivered under his touch, scrabbling to grab the wrist of the hand between your legs.
“Slow down, fucking hell—“
He cut you off with a kiss, tasting his own blood on your lips. He hadn’t even realized you drew it until he felt that telltale metallic tang hit the back of his throat, and a few warm drops running down the bare skin of his chest. His body protested each rock of his hips, crying out in the intensity of the act, but he continued. He bucked and rutted and groaned with wild abandon, biting down on your lips in turn. He felt your body tensing, winded up, coiled like a spring ready to snap. You were close. You were so close, and he was going to be the one to push you over the edge, to expose that final layer of depravity he had been yearning for for so, so long. He went faster, muffling your sounds with his mouth as you reached your own orgasm.
His hand did not stop until you were all the way through it. You released your grip on the belt, and took a much needed, full breath. He didn’t even realize how dizzy the slight oxygen deprivation had made him until he could fill his lungs properly again. You panted beneath him, eyes slightly glazed, lips ajar. He moved a hand up, gently placing a thumb just under your lip, running it over your skin soothingly.
“Oh dear… what a mess we made.” He mused, eyes raking over your flushed, ruined state. “You look like you enjoyed yourself.”
You mumbled something like a curse under your breath, and he chuckled, leaning in to give you one last kiss, soft and fleeting, nothing like the animalistic fervour he had displayed just moments before. His body was aching with all that he had endured, but he had never felt more satisfied. “I’m very glad we’ve come to an understanding. I’ll be counting on you to keep quiet from now on.”
I think Tamsy Caines has a sort of compulsion to know everyone around him on the deepest level, and as such, he would be extremely into any sort of mind break scenario. There would be nothing more satisfying to him than seeing you lose control. He doesn’t care if he gets banged up in the process.
Maybe you have a little guilt or shame about what you’re into, or you keep it under wraps so well he’d have to dig to reveal it. Either way, he doesn’t care how long he has to chip away at you, if it means that in the end you’ll be shoving him into the mattress, whispering about how much you shouldn’t be doing this while drawing him closer. He’d endure every bite and scratch and bruise, encouraging you to do more, to go harder, to show him who you really are, all while internally getting off on the thought that it was HIM who made you feel this way, HIM who finally made you break. And in the aftermath of it all, when the lips he’s kissing are stained with his own blood, he’ll tell you all about how good you did. He wants to see you descend further, get even more depraved. And he wants to be the catalyst that marks your sadistic downfall.
Hello! *nom* sorry I’ve been gone so long! Life got really hectic and I didn’t have time, energy, or inspiration to write anything. I managed to make this tho! It’s super self-indulgent 😅 anyways hope you’ve been well! And I hope you enjoy :)
If there was one thing the datables knew about you, it was that sometimes, you just needed noise. Whether you were calling a friend to hear them talk, playing music at far to high a volume, or talking aloud to yourself, it didn’t matter. You hated the sound of an empty house.
They were the first ones to know about your day when you recapped it to yourself as you cooked dinner, they were always informed about your latest hyperfixations and interests, and they loved to hear your constant singing. They would’ve wondered why you needed to talk so badly, but you explained it yourself over and over again.
You’d always say that talking to yourself was a “bad habit”, that it was “a sign of mental illness”, but just as often, you’d say that there was no better way to understand your own thoughts then to verbalize them. The cacophony of noise inside your head was eased by the sound outside.
When the dateviators arrived, you were mortified. They could see what an effort you put into quieting down. But in all honesty, they missed listening to the human radio.
This was originally gonna be about a music obsessed homeowner but talking to yourself is close enough I guess. (Can you tell I have ADHD? 🙃) I’m Struggling with a capital S over here lmao.
Anomnomnonymous
ABSOLUTE CINEMA I’m so sorry for responding so late but I always love reading your ideas they’re so fireee
I always thought that really, despite having lived with the homeowner for (seemingly) years, there would be almost no way for the objects to know much about them beyond their day to day habits besides extrapolating based on what little they had. But if the homeowner was someone who talked to themselves, that would result in much more friendly objects one the dateviators rolled around, because They’d already ‘know’ you to some extent, if that makes sense.
