Warnings: Choking, Hair Pulling, Bruises, Power Imbalance, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionist, Public Masturbation
Ao3 LINK
The ceiling fan above your head made an oddly sharp sound every time the left panel swung. Your memories of today repeated in your mind like a broken record, gnawing at your attention. You laid on your bunk waiting for sleep to overtake your mind, but it kept slipping away from you. Anger flooded your psyche; you hated sleepless nights, especially on your first day. Not wanting to waste any more time, you let your feet breach the ground. Thinking back to this morning, you remembered being informed there was a gym, open to all workers. You knew exercising before bed, especially at two am, wasn't the best for your health, but it was the only solution you could think of. Besides, working out alone was your preference. Paying special attention to the sound you emitted, you dressed in the workout gear provided by the company a few hours earlier. Even though you were a desk drone, you found it comforting that they gave you all the same supplies as the field workers. After a moment, you found yourself outside the room. The hallway was eerie, even more so than in the daylight. The darkness gave off a quiet, unsettling sort of weight, driving your senses into a taut, vigilant state. The gym was smaller than you had envisioned. There were a few machines, but it looked sort of lived-in. Opening the door brought a sharp intake of breath; someone was here. You hadn’t seen them yet, but you could hear their shuffling coming from the weight‑lifting room behind the cardio area. You really didn't want to deal with their questions; why are you here so late, or who are you? Still, you were asking yourself the same thing. Maybe it was just a coincidence, two insomniacs hoping for a better night's rest after hitting the gym. Yeah, right, that had to be the explanation. Thinking the two of you could coexist, you put on your Sony MDR-V6’s and started running. You’re sure the person could hear you now, but not a single tone reached past the cushion of your headphones. Despite what you thought, an unexpected hand grazed your shoulder, only to quietly power the machine down.
“Hey-” you barked while taking your headphones off. Their opposite hand now gripped the back of your nape, restraining you.
“Why are you following me?” His voice demanded.
You could feel his sharp tone bite into your core, barbed and familiar, only this time it wasn't muffled by a mask.
“What are you talking about?” You shouted back in annoyance. This guy was really getting on your nerves. “Let me go!”
You clawed at his digits sprawled across your neck when your gravity shifted to the floor. Pinned down, you used all your strength to knock him off; still, it was impossible with his impenetrable frame. His touch was intoxicating, lingering with a sharpness that overstayed its welcome. A violet kiss bloomed under your skin, like a spilt cup of watercolor. He was so rough. Suddenly, a long lifting strap aggressively wound itself around your eyes, catching and ripping strands of hair out.
“Ow!..Fuck.” You whined. His fingers froze mid‑motion, then pulled the knot tight with sudden force.
“Don't come here again.” He hissed before dragging your body to the door, throwing you to the floor like a stray. You got up breathing hard with anger boiling through your veins. You wanted to burst through the doors and hit him, but you knew it would only make things worse. Especially because he was the commanding operator, he felt serious this time. So instead, you opted to curse under your breath.
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The small, sleek analog clock hit seven thirty am. Maybe you were too early, even so, you sat in the conference room, silent and nervous. It was barren, lacking all the personality you would usually see at a corporate office. Instead of bright colors and motivational signs, tan walls and dull shades sat. God, the stress was getting to you. Was this room always this cold? Getting up, you decided to open the shades, maybe some light was what the room was missing. Delicate threads danced their way into the room, creating a gorgeous array of radiance. However, the feeling of serenity was fleeting. Someone had opened the door. You jerked your neck back, glancing at the hand curled around the door handle. When the door finally groaned open, dread pooled in your gut. His raw, serrated gaze fell upon you for the second time today, more intimidating than before. Fuck, did he really have to be the first person here?
Sitting down, you ignored him; the room filled with an uncomfortable gas that chilled your body. You begged god to let someone through that door, yet no one came. With no other outlet to relieve stress, your leg unconsciously started to shake, up and down, up and dow-
“Stop.” He snapped
“What?” Sitting across from him, you felt like a mouse being devoured by its snake counterpart.
“Stop doing that.”He paused, waiting for a response. He reiterated, “Stop bouncing your leg, it's annoying.” His voice was draped in a velvet hush, something you'd only expect in the bedroom. It was awkward and uncomfortable.
You knew why he was targeting you, but it was unjust for a superior to abuse his power like this. What could you do? Report it? You doubt Umbrella would ev-
The door creaked open once again. It was your supervisor, your savior! You stood up at attention, resulting in a glance from The Grim Reaper, who was happily enjoying his seat.
“Sit.” Your superior chuckled while closing the door. “Don't worry about such formalities from now on. Look at Hunk, he won't even greet me.”
Hunk.
“Sir, I respect you and your efforts.” You answered nervously. Your supervisor walked over and guided you back into the chair by your shoulders.
“Please, I take no offense.” His hand kindly patted your upper arm.
“Bu-” You start
“Sir, please don't touch the female employees; it could get you a sexual harassment complaint.” Hunk cut in, not letting you finish. His tone seemed more upset than usual.
The room was shrouded in intensity, the words were sewn into a joke, but were obviously serious. Realizing the situation, you quickly explained that he did no harm. A few others entered the room, then it hit eight am, starting the meeting. Your supervisor quickly set the conference in motion, first outlining the mission, something about the secure transport of a weapon, not complicated by any means. It was hard to focus when his gaze was constantly drilling holes into you. You did your best to mask it, yet it was clear you were uncomfortable, and you knew they all saw. Abruptly, a hard force pressed into your knee, slow and fever-warm. He shifted his joint between yours, driving it closer to your core. Nothing had changed above the table, but beneath the surface, he was clearly having fun teasing you. A knot of worry formed low inside you, what if everyone noticed? His knee dug deeper until it brushed the perimeter of your mound. Fuck. Carefully, you brought your hands down to grip the ball of his joint; it was dangerously close, exponentially increasing your anxiety. Your hands were wedged between your skin and his, only extending his grasp to your core. You fell for his trap.
You yanked your hands away, hoping for relief, but the pressure slammed down even harder. His leg was eagerly bouncing up and down, stimulating your bundle of nerves. Each jerk carved into your skin like a scalding brand, reminding you of this moment, always. Adrenalin soaked your skin, dizzying and rapid. Your jaw tightened with each sugary stroke. It was getting harder and harder to conceal your rising arousal, but you didn't dare let Hunk receive satisfaction from your release. You felt the wet sap damp your lower half, becoming a puddle of melted snow. His knee slammed into you, igniting a scatter of sparks behind your eyes. There were so many things about this that weren’t right, yet it felt so good.
The meeting came to a close, forcing his knee from your core. The detachment left you aching and isolated, like a wilted flower in an empty vase. You darted out of the room, refusing to risk even a glance at the sinister distraction. It wasn’t the act itself that embarrassed you; it was how much you enjoyed it. Walking into the bathroom, it was cold and desolate, perfect for guilt's shadow. Pulling your pants down, a viscous thread of slick escaped you, leaving a puddle pooled in your underwear. You were so fucked. You slipped a finger in, expecting some resistance, but none came. Your finger was too small, and you needed more. You leaned your weight onto the bathroom door, your digits shifted in and out, frantically seeking a release. At the same time, your other hand wrapped around your jaw, concealing the sound clawing at your lips. You couldn't help but imagine his hand in your place, huge and commanding.
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Your desk was a mess, and so were you. Sitting there, you felt the weight of the situation hit you like a truck. You weren't just a bystander anymore; you had acted on it. Even though nobody had actually witnessed it, you knew it in the marrow of your bones; you were just as sick as he was. The rest of the day flew by; you were entranced by this morning, giving nothing your full attention. Introducing yourself felt like a drag, and office icebreakers were boring. What was wrong with you? Eventually, you were standing in front of the same metal door you had exited this morning. Only this time could you hear the women outside.
“I mean, can you imagine that? Masterbating first thing in the morning.” One snickered
The other replied, “You act like people aren't animals too.”
“Still,” She paused, “I feel bad for whoever found him in the showers.”
They weren't talking about you.
You were paranoid as shit. Everything was messed up; it felt like a dream you couldn’t wake up from. After standing there for a moment, you relieved the hinges of their duty and opened the large, bleak door. Everyone in the room was dressed in athletic wear, sending memories of this morning racing through you. You just needed to calm down, which the gym would usually help with, but that didn't really seem like an option. But maybe following the others would keep you safe from any confrontation. While undressing, the tail of your turtle neck caught on the blooming bruise, violet and leafy. Did he really have to tug at your throat that hard? It was annoying, yet your heartbeat spiked the moment you remembered his hands on you. That familiar warmth curled back through you, slow, alluring, and unforgiving. It vined its way through your skin, biting each sensitive nerve. You smothered the feeling gnawing at your core by slapping a bandage over the wound; it was over now.
Walking over to the set of bunks parallel with your own, you asked the women if it was okay if you joined them. Luckily, they were receptive to your question, giving you some comfort during the walk. This time, you made it to the gym, but it was different from this morning. The sheer size blew past anything you’d pictured. Every machine you could want was sitting there, craving your touch.
Turning to one of the women, you asked: “ Have you ever been to the second gym?”
“There’s two?” she replied, surprised.
“I thought there were, maybe not.” You answered, trying to conceal the worry in your voice.
You must’ve slipped into Hunk’s private gym without realizing it this morning.
Why are you following me? It echoed in your mind, vociferous and daunting.
Opening the door, your heels hit the floor of Umbrella Security Services. The first thing you noticed was the air; it was stale and devoid of all emotion. When filling out job applications, you had heard the bad rumors about the U.S.S., but you were in no position to be picky. Still, this wasn't a huge red flag, not yet anyway.
An obviously overworked man walked up to you. “Are you here for the orientation?”
“Yes Sir,” You answer, paying special attention to your tone. First impressions are everything.
“Follow me,” he voices with exhaustion.
Looking down, you see the clip board hes holding, something about special equipment overview is written down. Keeping up with his annoyingly slow pace was not a problem, yet the sight of the facility was eating your steps. Every window you passed held dozens of strange materials. You didn't recognize a single thing, but you knew they were weapons. Being let into a world of secrets was strange; it was cryptic and unwelcoming. Shaking off the uneasy feeling, you saw the tired man suddenly make a sharp turn for a set of metal doors, resembling what you would see at an elementary school cafeteria. Swinging the doors open, there was a sea of people standing before you. You'd never seen a security force with so many operators. When trying to count, you thought there were maybe 30 or 50 people packed into the enormously loud meeting room. You looked to the far left of the room, there was a man in his fifties digging holes into your skull.
His jaw unhinged. “ATTENTION, Now that all are present, shall we begin our discussion?” Shit, you were late.
You swiftly enter the room, finding an open seat begging for your presence. Everyone around you looked threatening. Maybe this was a bad idea.
“Thank you for your time. Today, we will be going over workforce introductions.” He turns on the projector. “Or whatever the fuck they want to call it these days.” A small chuckle erupts in the room.
After what felt like hours, the meeting finally came to a close. The man had explained Umbrella Corporation's policies, codes, and benefits; a bunch of corporate bullshit. You stood up and started b-lining for the exit when you heard something interesting.
“Did you see him?” Your ears perk up
“No way, have you heard what they call him?” A man had answered with dismay
“C’mon man, you really believe that?” his arms grabbed the other's shoulders. “I mean, The Grim Reaper is such a stupid name, grade school shit y’know?”
What were they talking about? Stuck in your thoughts, you tried to think back to the rumors you heard before. Nothing mentioned this so-and-so Grim Reaper, but you guessed the gossip could have missed you. Following the wave-like ocean of people, you put your thoughts on the back burner, first you needed to find your quarters and work station. That was more important than whatever this petty gossip was about. Walking through corridors, you couldn't help but feel worried. How many turns had you taken? An officer had informed you that your quarters were three rights and then a direct path. Wait no, it was 4 rights, and then-You were lost. With this many new employees, how could you possibly have gotten lost? Panic was starting to set in; you knew the building was an infinite building of halls. How were you meant to find your way back without a map? And asking anyone for help felt like a bad idea, I mean, it would make you look irresponsible. Damnit. You stop for a minute, tethering your heels to the floor; they were starting to hurt. Blisters had formed on the back of your feet. Today really wasn't your day.
Taking the heels off, you hear footsteps approaching from behind, your pulse jackhammers. Whoever was there was huge, telling from their strides. Fuck, who was it, the superior officer presenting? He was definitely one to go hard on his subordinates. Craning your neck to the space behind, you saw a gas mask peering down from the other side of the hallway. Their boots hit the floor like anvils falling from the sky, impeding and rigid. The person's body was layered in top-grade anti-ballistic gear. What on God's green earth is that thing, you thought as they trudged further towards you. A gas mask and tactical equipment in the middle of the office sector?
Swallowing your pride, you spoke up, “I'm the new counter-intelligence officer for Alpha Team. Orientation was today, and I got lost. Is there any way you can help me?”
A small, hesitant smile weaves its way across your face. God, you hated giving in, but he was your only option. You were lost with no way back; regardless of how it made you look, you were forced to choke it down.
“Move,” His baritone voice was serrated in power.
Not realizing your body was positioned in the middle, you nervously stepped to the side. “Wai-”
He was gone like a corrosive shadow leaving its burn. Crimson crawls under your skin, frantic and embarrassed. How could he just ignore you like that? You knew better, yet your feet carried you toward him all the same.
Turning the same corner, your voice tore through the air, “HEY!” The moment the words left you, emotion surged, and you flung a shoe at him.
His body slammed to a halt. Standing there, he was like an impenetrable wall of steel.
Once you gathered yourself, you said, “Please, I don't know how to get back. And you seem to know your way around here,” you pause, “I'm practically begging.”
Once the last thread of sound escaped your lips, his stride continued forward, dismissing. Standing there, you were at a loss for words. How could someone, even a superior, continue to ignore someone's plea for help? Letting him go and retrieving your shoe, you tried to retrace your steps. The walls were all the same prison bar grey, with no decorations. The closest thing to identification was the room numbers.
You sigh. “This is going to take all day.”
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You had found another drained man, weird how this has happened twice. He kindly led you back to the orientation hall. You checked in with a few of your superiors before attempting to locate the main quarters bay again. This time, you had found it. A steel door sat in front of you, a large lock was present but only accessible from the inside. You opened the door and saw about six women inside. Unsurprisingly, this type of work was over-saturated with men and under saturated with people like you. Being a woman involved with intelligence agencies was never accepted by prejudiced mules droning the Earth's crust. But it's not like you cared about what they thought. The room had already been settled, leaving you to finish your unpacking. You’d never been one to eavesdrop, but with how loud the girls talked, resisting was impossible.
A woman was lying on her bed when she said, “They say he wears a gas mask to hide all of his nasty scars. I bet he's ugly as hell.” She thumbed through her golden locks.
“Who? The Grim Reaper?” the other chuckled. “You know you really shouldn't be saying that. What if he comes and gets you?” Her hands did that thing where they try to scare you.
A gas mask?
“What are you guys talking about?” You chime in, trying not to seem nosy.
“Hm? You've never heard of him?” The woman on the bed replies.
The other rolls her eyes toward her friend, “He's this ruthless operative that is said to never die, even on the hardest missions.” Her eyebrows raise. “It's mostly just hearsay with no backing.”
“So no one's really seen him?” You ask after finishing your unpacking.
She pauses to think, “No, not really. Maybe he's real, maybe he's not. Don't get worked up over it.”
The woman must have noticed the blood drain from your face. “Right, it's probably just rumors.”
The thought of continuing the conversation was exhausting, so you left the room to look for your workstation, this time with greater focus. You had found it, your desk. It was in a maze of cubicles, but this one had your name on it, small and neat. Reporting didn't start until eight am the next day; even so, you wanted to get a good look at it. It was still grey, but the computer and monitor were top-notch; I guess Umbrella cared about their employees. Pens with the corporation's logo were laid out to the side with an introduction pamphlet. Sitting down, you started to read through it. Welcome to Umbrella Corporation, we’re glad to se- Yea no, you put the pamphlet down. When you lifted your gaze, a jolt of fear shot through you. Your superior was standing in front of you with a smile on his face.
“I heard you got lost,” he says before you swiftly stand to attention.
Your reply is instinctive, “I'm sorry about that sir. It won't happen again.”
He snapped his tongue, “No need to apologize, you found your way back, didn't you?” It's refreshing to hear someone in power speak casually.
He starts again, “Heard it from one of our operatives.”
“But, sir.” You pause, “I didn't meet any operatives on the Alpha team.”
“You sure did. Y’know the one they call The Grim Reaper, he’s one of ‘em.”
Every bit of color vanished from your face. “The one with the gas mask?” You pointed to your face with disbelief.
“Yeah, he doesn't take that thing off, does he?” He replied with a snicker before making a serious face. “What's wrong?”
“I,” you look down, “threw my shoe at him.”
Your superior lost it completely, letting loud laughter escape his jaw. “Serves him right.”
You plopped back down onto your chair. What were you thinking?
He continued, “Don't worry about it, he's all bark no bite when he's not working.” His arm was on your shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Along with everyone else on the team.” He walks out still chuckling to himself.
Along with everyone else on the team?!
Notes:
Thanks for much for reading! Chapter two should be coming soon.
warnings: choking, hair pulling, power imbalance, over stimulation, biting, dubious consent, cream pie
White splotches freckled the room, dancing across it like snowflakes in a sea of pines. The smell invading the room was oppressive, like chrysanthemums in a children's mortuary, yet it wrapped you in warmth. Before opening your eyes, you felt a wet sensation enveloping your thigh. Although you were covered in a sticky film, this was different. Lying there, you couldn't help but think about how nice the coolness felt in the sweaty cushions you were pressed against. The exhaustion left your mind blank and thoughtless. A moment later, the memory of last night returns, slow, heavy, and unwelcome, like a shadow uncoiling itself from the dark. Quickly, you opened your eyes and jerked your leg back, desperate for the feeling to finally release. A tight, authoritative pressure encased your thigh solely to violently jerk you back to the place you had awoken from. You saw his face, a scar presented itself horizontally across his nose, suggesting a past steeped in violence. Drool and blood were spiraled around his lips, freshly drawn from the wound carved into your thigh. A black silken mass wildly covers his face, so much so that his eyes were barely visible. Was this what the rogue headquarters were talking about?
“Stop,” you uttered cautiously, doing your best not to provoke him. Lightly, you tried to squirm your way out of his sprawled hands.
He spoke back in dismissal like a corrosive shadow, “Don't move.”
Gripping your femur with a relentless grasp, his lips drew forward with a sultry touch. It hurt. He was working his tongue into your gash, paying no mind to your constant, frantic whimpers. You recoil with every movement, struggling to keep your voice hushed. He digs deeper, piercing the lower layer of muscle. The clotted hemoglobin flowed freely, yet the sheets remained untouched, spared by his throat. Pain thread itself through your consciousness, driving the need to pry him off. With each touch, you reached for his skull, only to be stopped as his hands clamped down over yours. Because of the forced proximity, you finally see him face-to-face. In this moment, you felt like an insect perched on a sundew waiting to be devoured. A crimson layer stained his skin. It looked like he had just walked out of a slaughterhouse, wearing every drop of blood inside it.
Flexing your arms, the fight for freedom was snuffed out after his suffocating lips met yours, your breath becoming ephemeral with every lap of saliva exchanged. As dark strands fell from his head, the same sweet aroma followed. It was a spice with many tastes; a dizzying array of textures and moments. His arms forced your legs apart, sending a sharp bolt of pain through you. His lust was a wildfire untamed and all-consuming. Blood threaded itself through the shared saliva, piercing your taste buds. It must be yours; his visage shifts to your ear, drowning you in hair.
“Stop moving,” he muttered softly.
It didn't make sense, but he seemed concerned. Time was slow-moving, with a heavy pendulum. His hands unclaimed yours with a tender release. The laceration was starting to ooze blood like a punctured pimple, soaking the sheets below. Grabbing your femur, he lapped at the red, dripping fast and frantic. You felt the dread of decay enveloping every pathway in your neurons. However, the cool, gentle feeling returned. Looking down, your laceration was all but a scar under his lips. Where there was blood, spit had replaced it.
Between heavy breaths, you parted your lips, “How…” Reality felt warped by what you saw. Shock had rooted itself hard and unyielding.
“I told you to stay still.” The rogue answered sternly before releasing your thigh. Red spawned across your face, hot from embarrassment. Realizing it now, you were dirty, sprawled across a bed with an unknown man, shrouded in violence. Was this some type of joke to him?
Your breath hitched. “How did you do that?”Slowly rising from his knees, eyes gleaming with a carnivorous hunger, he stood before you. Instead of responding, his hands splay across your lower waist before throwing you over his shoulder. Tired of being manhandled, you kicked your legs out of desperation. His hands, wide and strong, spank your tailbone. A piercing flash of pain enveloped the reddening patch of skin, forcing loud threads of sound to escape you. Without noticing it, you had entered a new room, chain dragging behind both of you. Your head hits the porcelain as you're dropped into a white bath.
“Wh-What do you want?” You yelped out as your world tilted.
“Clean yourself,” He replies with a hiss. “You're filthy.” The faucet opens, releasing a steady rush of water.
He's still ignoring you. Looking around the room, it was shrouded in darkness, the only light being a few distant candles. The water was delicate and thin, different from the thick, coarse fluid coating everything in the building. The sight of the water running unchecked struck you with a deep ache. You were stuck here, with this beast of a man, trapped with a lurking horror always out of eyes' view. A soft trickle fell from your lashes, bringing sweet, serrated feelings with it.
Once the water rose to your underbust, he stepped into the bath, positioning himself across you. Sitting there felt like terror personified, yet you couldn't help looking at the waterlogged cloth sticking to his body; you were entranced. Glancing at his chest, the need to crawl inside flared in your mind like a lost hiker looking for home.
Slowly, the same rose-like aroma presented itself with greater force, each breath making you more and more dazed. Amidst your pulse fluttering, your legs expanded to meet his navel. He sat, like a corpse at a wake, begging to be relinquished by the earth’s cradle. Looking up at his eyes, they were dark and tired, something you would only expect from a wage slave. He grabbed your ankle, pulling you closer. Your head slipped under the surface, leaving your oxygen supply devoid. The water was a light red, revealing the substance's nature: blood. You couldn't help but wonder whose blood you had swallowed on the floor. Was it his, or the owner of the dead body’s? Regardless of its owner, it roused a shiver that crawled across your flesh.
Death's shackles pulled you up from the sinking hush; his pelvis now flush with your own, he pistoned his hips forward, pushing you toward his chest. His touch felt like an army of ants crawling against your fevered skin, biting. Your head lay in the cove between his neck and shoulder, seeking reassurance you knew you wouldn't receive. The two of you stay there as a pile of dead limbs, breathing.
Nothing felt real anymore. You part your lips when a needle-like stabbing flash makes itself known on your neck. The rogue's fangs had sunk into your supple skin, hungry and unforgiving. Whimpers escaped your jaw, sounding like the weeping and gnashing of teeth. This feeling was unknown to you, yet it felt ancient and familiar. Like a petrified fossil, you lay there accepting his sinful deed. You were nothing but a husk of a woman now, a bag of food waiting to be ravaged. Blood trickled down your shoulder, following a course without a destination. As the water and iron-rich scarlet seep met, you felt a hard mass below your hips. It was hot and pulsing, begging for immediate release. Scarlet bloomed under your cheeks, rushed, sugary, and unrelenting. The jagged predatory edge to his teeth sank deeper with each drop of blood he drank. A tingling sensation crawled across your skin with ease, goosebumps flooding every stretch of skin.
His hands shifted to your waist, clawing at your drenched beltline.
His teeth pulled back, and he spoke in a low, restrained whisper. “Take it off.”
Almost like second nature, you shed your clothes. Was this really a good idea? Could he really be trusted? Those thoughts were swept away in an instant, once his digits skimmed your mound. The feeling had been itching away at you since awakening, and his touch hit like a truck. Loud gasps escaped your lips as his fingers started working themselves in and out, like pistons in an engine. Struggling to stay level, your hands fall onto his shoulders, seeking stability. His tempo slowed, urging you to move your hips yourself, plunging deeper with each stroke. Your slick had coated his fingers, leaving them sopping and wrinkled. You were so close, just a few mor-
Your collar was yanked forward, ripping his fingers from your warm, trembling skin. A huff of longing exits your jaw; you ache for his touch. Glancing up, you see his visage dripping with lust.
His mouth eases open: “Behave.”
“Please,” Your voice cracks like shredded cloth. “I want-… I-I’ll be good.”The rogue unfolds his waistband, revealing the throbbing mass hidden underneath. Temptation takes over when your fingers touch the burning member, thick and pulsating.
His hand gently caresses your chin. “Lick it,” his voice sounding like gravel.You were too hypnotized to say no, so you dipped your head below the water. Eagerly, you lapped at his cock, praying your abilities are up to his standards. Right when you're pulling your head to the surface, he grabs a fist full of hair and shoves you down on his member. It was hot like before, but now it was suffocating. There's water all around you, forcing you to ration your oxygen supply like a seal chasing its prey. Except you were the prey in this situation, small, fragile, and vulnerable. Still, you liked the way his hands tore through you without any care for your benefit. You choked on the mixture of blood and water. It felt like minutes had passed by, long enough for your vision to start to swim. His cock throbbed with each messy stroke as he became a frantic mess. The follicles in your skull brace for impact when they're violently yanked up. Your head is parallel with his; the difference was that you were completely drenched with his precum on your lips, and he was smiling. You saw his fangs, sharp and lathered in your succulent blood.
Your heartbeat echoed inside your head as his hand wrapped around your lower back, pushing your pelvis forward. The head of his cock breached your core, sending piercing shocks through your bones. Small threads of sound left both of your mouths after fully sheathed himself inside. With every shift of movement, the blood-soaked water seeped inside. It was filling you up, like a corpse being embalmed. He lifted you faster and dropped you harder with each shift; a dizzying sensation blooming under your flesh. You felt like an abbess satiating her urges with her own hands, nervous and guilty. The shame flowed through you like the water spilling out of the bathtub. What you were doing was wrong, yet you couldn't help yourself. Your orgasm hit you rigid and relentless, but he didn't slow down. Instead, his hands tightened around your navel, subsequently speeding up. Your lips met his once again. Overstimulation simmered in your core, sending searing, thick tears down your face. Seeking release, your nails dug into his flesh, leaving red-hot marks patterning his upper back. You could feel every vein, every nerve in this man's cock, he was creating his own mold, but using you as his tool, like a silicone cavity found at a shitty sex shop.
Pulling you out of your thoughts, he flips you around and forces an arch. You’ve crossed plenty of lines, but this is somehow the most humiliating. Your ass is in the air waiting to be used. Right when you believe he's going to penetrate you, a hot flash hits your tail. He had spanked you again, this time harder than before. It happened again and again, each occasion with greater intensity. You couldn't help whimpering after each smack, yet you felt your slick leak out more and more.
He leans down, hips now flush with yours. “I know you like it,” he said before dragging his digits over your sopping opening. “Tell me you want it,” He breaths “…or I won't put it in.” He steps back, waiting for your pathetic approval.
You felt powerless, a wide range of unknown emotions disoriented you, but how could you say no? You couldn't help yourself.
“Please put it inside me.” Your voice dipped when referring to his member.
“Put what?” He said with a shadowy chuckle. His cock was now dancing across the perimeter of your opening.
You quietly huffed out, “Your cock.”
“Atta girl,” he bit back before shoving his member inside you all in one push.
It burned. Burned so good. With each piston of his hips, you felt your body give in like a priest at his first orgy. The room was humid and sticky, making it hard for you to hold on to anything. Noticing this, his hands clamped over yours, bringing them to his navel as he continuously pounded into you. It's rough and sensual, yet the rogue makes sure you're feeling the pulse of arousal. Orgasming again, you couldn’t hold back your voice; the overstimulation is simply too much to hold in. Your voice claws at the walls like a beaten cat, begging for survival. You swore you couldn't cum anymore, it was all too much, but when he traced his fingers across your clit, it was over. Your legs spasmed with the forced orgasm, and you hear his frantic breath getting louder behind you. Besides the foreign water and blood, a new shimmering white fluid filled you. You knew what it was, and it made you preen in arousal. He eased your exhausted body into the tub and began to wash you clean. But it didn't matter to you; everything around you was warped, shifting with each blink. Soon enough, your eyes lacked the power to reopen.
────────────────────
Water hit your face, small droplets shooting down from the sky. This time, your memories pierced through you like a spear. The temple didn't sit before you anymore. Instead, you were laid out on a small cloth covering a sea of gravel. You didn't recognise any of the trees around you. Where was this? Glancing down, a sigh of relief fell from your lips. You were fully clothed, but they weren't yours. Had you defeated the rogue? Countless questions raced through your mind, none of them answered. Getting up, you found a low-traffic highway, an escape back to society. Was this really it? You thought as you stepped into a truck with its destination set for your home.
warnings: choking, hair pulling, power imbalance, over stimulation, biting, dubious consent, cream pie
White splotches freckled the room, dancing across it like snowflakes in a sea of pines. The smell invading the room was oppressive, like chrysanthemums in a children's mortuary, yet it wrapped you in warmth. Before opening your eyes, you felt a wet sensation enveloping your thigh. Although you were covered in a sticky film, this was different. Lying there, you couldn't help but think about how nice the coolness felt in the sweaty cushions you were pressed against. The exhaustion left your mind blank and thoughtless. A moment later, the memory of last night returns, slow, heavy, and unwelcome, like a shadow uncoiling itself from the dark. Quickly, you opened your eyes and jerked your leg back, desperate for the feeling to finally release. A tight, authoritative pressure encased your thigh solely to violently jerk you back to the place you had awoken from. You saw his face, a scar presented itself horizontally across his nose, suggesting a past steeped in violence. Drool and blood were spiraled around his lips, freshly drawn from the wound carved into your thigh. A black silken mass wildly covers his face, so much so that his eyes were barely visible. Was this what the rogue headquarters were talking about?
“Stop,” you uttered cautiously, doing your best not to provoke him. Lightly, you tried to squirm your way out of his sprawled hands.
He spoke back in dismissal like a corrosive shadow, “Don't move.”
Gripping your femur with a relentless grasp, his lips drew forward with a sultry touch. It hurt. He was working his tongue into your gash, paying no mind to your constant, frantic whimpers. You recoil with every movement, struggling to keep your voice hushed. He digs deeper, piercing the lower layer of muscle. The clotted hemoglobin flowed freely, yet the sheets remained untouched, spared by his throat. Pain thread itself through your consciousness, driving the need to pry him off. With each touch, you reached for his skull, only to be stopped as his hands clamped down over yours. Because of the forced proximity, you finally see him face-to-face. In this moment, you felt like an insect perched on a sundew waiting to be devoured. A crimson layer stained his skin. It looked like he had just walked out of a slaughterhouse, wearing every drop of blood inside it.
Flexing your arms, the fight for freedom was snuffed out after his suffocating lips met yours, your breath becoming ephemeral with every lap of saliva exchanged. As dark strands fell from his head, the same sweet aroma followed. It was a spice with many tastes; a dizzying array of textures and moments. His arms forced your legs apart, sending a sharp bolt of pain through you. His lust was a wildfire untamed and all-consuming. Blood threaded itself through the shared saliva, piercing your taste buds. It must be yours; his visage shifts to your ear, drowning you in hair.
“Stop moving,” he muttered softly.
It didn't make sense, but he seemed concerned. Time was slow-moving, with a heavy pendulum. His hands unclaimed yours with a tender release. The laceration was starting to ooze blood like a punctured pimple, soaking the sheets below. Grabbing your femur, he lapped at the red, dripping fast and frantic. You felt the dread of decay enveloping every pathway in your neurons. However, the cool, gentle feeling returned. Looking down, your laceration was all but a scar under his lips. Where there was blood, spit had replaced it.
Between heavy breaths, you parted your lips, “How…” Reality felt warped by what you saw. Shock had rooted itself hard and unyielding.
“I told you to stay still.” The rogue answered sternly before releasing your thigh. Red spawned across your face, hot from embarrassment. Realizing it now, you were dirty, sprawled across a bed with an unknown man, shrouded in violence. Was this some type of joke to him?
Your breath hitched. “How did you do that?”Slowly rising from his knees, eyes gleaming with a carnivorous hunger, he stood before you. Instead of responding, his hands splay across your lower waist before throwing you over his shoulder. Tired of being manhandled, you kicked your legs out of desperation. His hands, wide and strong, spank your tailbone. A piercing flash of pain enveloped the reddening patch of skin, forcing loud threads of sound to escape you. Without noticing it, you had entered a new room, chain dragging behind both of you. Your head hits the porcelain as you're dropped into a white bath.
“Wh-What do you want?” You yelped out as your world tilted.
“Clean yourself,” He replies with a hiss. “You're filthy.” The faucet opens, releasing a steady rush of water.
He's still ignoring you. Looking around the room, it was shrouded in darkness, the only light being a few distant candles. The water was delicate and thin, different from the thick, coarse fluid coating everything in the building. The sight of the water running unchecked struck you with a deep ache. You were stuck here, with this beast of a man, trapped with a lurking horror always out of eyes' view. A soft trickle fell from your lashes, bringing sweet, serrated feelings with it.
Once the water rose to your underbust, he stepped into the bath, positioning himself across you. Sitting there felt like terror personified, yet you couldn't help looking at the waterlogged cloth sticking to his body; you were entranced. Glancing at his chest, the need to crawl inside flared in your mind like a lost hiker looking for home.
Slowly, the same rose-like aroma presented itself with greater force, each breath making you more and more dazed. Amidst your pulse fluttering, your legs expanded to meet his navel. He sat, like a corpse at a wake, begging to be relinquished by the earth’s cradle. Looking up at his eyes, they were dark and tired, something you would only expect from a wage slave. He grabbed your ankle, pulling you closer. Your head slipped under the surface, leaving your oxygen supply devoid. The water was a light red, revealing the substance's nature: blood. You couldn't help but wonder whose blood you had swallowed on the floor. Was it his, or the owner of the dead body’s? Regardless of its owner, it roused a shiver that crawled across your flesh.
Death's shackles pulled you up from the sinking hush; his pelvis now flush with your own, he pistoned his hips forward, pushing you toward his chest. His touch felt like an army of ants crawling against your fevered skin, biting. Your head lay in the cove between his neck and shoulder, seeking reassurance you knew you wouldn't receive. The two of you stay there as a pile of dead limbs, breathing.
Nothing felt real anymore. You part your lips when a needle-like stabbing flash makes itself known on your neck. The rogue's fangs had sunk into your supple skin, hungry and unforgiving. Whimpers escaped your jaw, sounding like the weeping and gnashing of teeth. This feeling was unknown to you, yet it felt ancient and familiar. Like a petrified fossil, you lay there accepting his sinful deed. You were nothing but a husk of a woman now, a bag of food waiting to be ravaged. Blood trickled down your shoulder, following a course without a destination. As the water and iron-rich scarlet seep met, you felt a hard mass below your hips. It was hot and pulsing, begging for immediate release. Scarlet bloomed under your cheeks, rushed, sugary, and unrelenting. The jagged predatory edge to his teeth sank deeper with each drop of blood he drank. A tingling sensation crawled across your skin with ease, goosebumps flooding every stretch of skin.
His hands shifted to your waist, clawing at your drenched beltline.
His teeth pulled back, and he spoke in a low, restrained whisper. “Take it off.”
Almost like second nature, you shed your clothes. Was this really a good idea? Could he really be trusted? Those thoughts were swept away in an instant, once his digits skimmed your mound. The feeling had been itching away at you since awakening, and his touch hit like a truck. Loud gasps escaped your lips as his fingers started working themselves in and out, like pistons in an engine. Struggling to stay level, your hands fall onto his shoulders, seeking stability. His tempo slowed, urging you to move your hips yourself, plunging deeper with each stroke. Your slick had coated his fingers, leaving them sopping and wrinkled. You were so close, just a few mor-
Your collar was yanked forward, ripping his fingers from your warm, trembling skin. A huff of longing exits your jaw; you ache for his touch. Glancing up, you see his visage dripping with lust.
His mouth eases open: “Behave.”
“Please,” Your voice cracks like shredded cloth. “I want-… I-I’ll be good.”The rogue unfolds his waistband, revealing the throbbing mass hidden underneath. Temptation takes over when your fingers touch the burning member, thick and pulsating.
His hand gently caresses your chin. “Lick it,” his voice sounding like gravel.You were too hypnotized to say no, so you dipped your head below the water. Eagerly, you lapped at his cock, praying your abilities are up to his standards. Right when you're pulling your head to the surface, he grabs a fist full of hair and shoves you down on his member. It was hot like before, but now it was suffocating. There's water all around you, forcing you to ration your oxygen supply like a seal chasing its prey. Except you were the prey in this situation, small, fragile, and vulnerable. Still, you liked the way his hands tore through you without any care for your benefit. You choked on the mixture of blood and water. It felt like minutes had passed by, long enough for your vision to start to swim. His cock throbbed with each messy stroke as he became a frantic mess. The follicles in your skull brace for impact when they're violently yanked up. Your head is parallel with his; the difference was that you were completely drenched with his precum on your lips, and he was smiling. You saw his fangs, sharp and lathered in your succulent blood.
Your heartbeat echoed inside your head as his hand wrapped around your lower back, pushing your pelvis forward. The head of his cock breached your core, sending piercing shocks through your bones. Small threads of sound left both of your mouths after fully sheathed himself inside. With every shift of movement, the blood-soaked water seeped inside. It was filling you up, like a corpse being embalmed. He lifted you faster and dropped you harder with each shift; a dizzying sensation blooming under your flesh. You felt like an abbess satiating her urges with her own hands, nervous and guilty. The shame flowed through you like the water spilling out of the bathtub. What you were doing was wrong, yet you couldn't help yourself. Your orgasm hit you rigid and relentless, but he didn't slow down. Instead, his hands tightened around your navel, subsequently speeding up. Your lips met his once again. Overstimulation simmered in your core, sending searing, thick tears down your face. Seeking release, your nails dug into his flesh, leaving red-hot marks patterning his upper back. You could feel every vein, every nerve in this man's cock, he was creating his own mold, but using you as his tool, like a silicone cavity found at a shitty sex shop.
Pulling you out of your thoughts, he flips you around and forces an arch. You’ve crossed plenty of lines, but this is somehow the most humiliating. Your ass is in the air waiting to be used. Right when you believe he's going to penetrate you, a hot flash hits your tail. He had spanked you again, this time harder than before. It happened again and again, each occasion with greater intensity. You couldn't help whimpering after each smack, yet you felt your slick leak out more and more.
He leans down, hips now flush with yours. “I know you like it,” he said before dragging his digits over your sopping opening. “Tell me you want it,” He breaths “…or I won't put it in.” He steps back, waiting for your pathetic approval.
You felt powerless, a wide range of unknown emotions disoriented you, but how could you say no? You couldn't help yourself.
“Please put it inside me.” Your voice dipped when referring to his member.
“Put what?” He said with a shadowy chuckle. His cock was now dancing across the perimeter of your opening.
You quietly huffed out, “Your cock.”
“Atta girl,” he bit back before shoving his member inside you all in one push.
It burned. Burned so good. With each piston of his hips, you felt your body give in like a priest at his first orgy. The room was humid and sticky, making it hard for you to hold on to anything. Noticing this, his hands clamped over yours, bringing them to his navel as he continuously pounded into you. It's rough and sensual, yet the rogue makes sure you're feeling the pulse of arousal. Orgasming again, you couldn’t hold back your voice; the overstimulation is simply too much to hold in. Your voice claws at the walls like a beaten cat, begging for survival. You swore you couldn't cum anymore, it was all too much, but when he traced his fingers across your clit, it was over. Your legs spasmed with the forced orgasm, and you hear his frantic breath getting louder behind you. Besides the foreign water and blood, a new shimmering white fluid filled you. You knew what it was, and it made you preen in arousal. He eased your exhausted body into the tub and began to wash you clean. But it didn't matter to you; everything around you was warped, shifting with each blink. Soon enough, your eyes lacked the power to reopen.
────────────────────
Water hit your face, small droplets shooting down from the sky. This time, your memories pierced through you like a spear. The temple didn't sit before you anymore. Instead, you were laid out on a small cloth covering a sea of gravel. You didn't recognise any of the trees around you. Where was this? Glancing down, a sigh of relief fell from your lips. You were fully clothed, but they weren't yours. Had you defeated the rogue? Countless questions raced through your mind, none of them answered. Getting up, you found a low-traffic highway, an escape back to society. Was this really it? You thought as you stepped into a truck with its destination set for your home.
warnings: choking, hair pulling, power imbalance, over stimulation, biting, dubious consent
White splotches freckle the room, dancing across it like snowflakes in a sea of pines. The smell invading the room was oppressive, like chrysanthemums in a children's mortuary, yet it wraps you in warmth. Before opening your eyes, you feel a wet sensation enveloping your thigh. Although you were covered in a sticky film, this was different. Lying there, you couldn't help but think about how nice the coolness felt in the sweaty cushions you were pressed against. The exhaustion left your mind blank and thoughtless. But a moment later, the memory of last night returns slow, heavy, and unwelcome, like a shadow uncoiling itself from the dark. Quickly, you open your eyes and jerk your leg back, desperate for the feeling to finally release. A tight, authoritative pressure encases your thigh solely to violently jerk you back to the place you had awoken from. You saw his face, a scar presented itself horizontally across his nose, suggesting a past steeped in violence. Drool and blood are spiraling around his lips, freshly drawn from the wound carved into your thigh. A black silken mass wildly covers his face, so much so that his eyes are barely visible. Is this the rogue headquarters we're talking about?
“Stop,” you cautiously utter, doing your best not to provoke him. Lightly, you try to squirm your way out of his sprawled hands.
He speaks back in dismissal like a corrosive shadow, “Don't move.”Gripping your femur with a relentless grasp, his lips drew forward with a sultry touch. It hurts. He was working his tongue into your gash, paying no mind to your constant, frantic whimpers. You recoil with every movement, struggling to keep your voice hushed. He digs deeper, piercing the lower layer of muscle. The clotted hemoglobin flows freely, yet the sheets remain untouched, spared by his throat. Pain threads itself through your consciousness, driving the need to pry him off. With each touch, you reach for his skull, only to be stopped as his hands clamped down over yours. Because of the forced proximity, you finally see him face-to-face. In this moment, you felt like an insect perched on a sundew waiting to be devoured. A crimson layer stained his skin. It looked like he had just walked out of a slaughterhouse, with every drop of blood inside it. Flexing your arms, the fight for freedom was snuffed out after his suffocating lips met yours, your breath becoming ephemeral with every lap of saliva exchanged. As dark strands fell from his head, the same sweet aroma followed. It was a spice with many tastes—a dizzying array of textures and moments. His arms forced your legs apart, sending a sharp bolt of pain through you. His lust was a wildfire untamed and all-consuming. Blood threaded itself through the shared saliva, piercing your taste buds. It must be yours—his visage shifts to your ear, drowning you in hair.
chapter two of blood thirsty will either be out tonight or tomorrow...im working hard to get it finished but im such a slow writer when it comes to intimacy
Fanfiction is supposed to be cringy. You're allowed to write bad. You're allowed to be cringe. Fanfiction is supposed to be self indulgent. You're allowed to be cringe. Let yourself be cringe. Fanfiction is supposed to be fun. Stop putting arbitrary rules on yourself and be free.
warnings: choking, hair pulling, power imbalance, over stimulation, biting, dubious consent
Of course they decided to send you on this stupid mission. Jujutsu Headquarters didn't exactly have anyone else to fill the spot since so many curses had been getting out of control. It was unbearably sweltering outside, so hot you could feel your red fingers buzzing with numbness. Blood ran down the digits, thick like maple syrup. Nail biting was never a special habit of yours, but after experiencing field work, it was like second nature. Searing rain fell from the sky in slow motion, almost like it was taking pity on you for what’s to come. Great. Rain never made the mission any easier.
Even though your hearing was superior to regular civilians, the constant dinging where water and metal met made it hard to concentrate. You thought back to headquarters’ request. A rogue sorcerer has taken refuge in a temple deep in the canopy. Retrieve them. Thinking about it made the situation even more confusing. Were they an enemy? What did they look like? What caused them to go rogue in the first place?
The temple above your locks was left to rot many ages ago, like a cigarette bud waiting to be claimed by the soil. Standing by it made you feel unusual. Obviously, it had been the object of someone's affection before it was thrown away, yet it had a special abhorrence to it.
Then you saw it, the thing that had been bothering you this whole time. While the entire building was disheveled, all the windows were neatly- but cautiously- shut, making it almost unnoticeable. If the building were sitting here that long, surely the windows would be in just as bad of a condition as the exterior walls. While standing there, you gave it some thought. You had no idea what you were walking into but you knew they were meticulous with their actions. The fact that the air outside was feverish made the situation even more perplexing. It had to be at least ninety-five degrees in the dilapidated temple, way too hot for even a sorcerer to sit in.Your stomach churned with every thought, eventually becoming a massive pit of knots.
As if by instinct, you grasped the rusted humid handle and swung the door open with a crack.
It broke.
The door fucking broke. It wasn’t surprising, but the bang that followed made your decision seem rash. Whoever occupied the space now knew you were there, and knew you broke the door. Sweat dripped from your chin as you swept your feet across the entrance floor. Wide eyed, you smelled a sweet, unrecognizable scent. Mildew was expected, but the room smelled more like summer flowers and raw iron. The sweet metallic scent only got stronger the further you progressed into the room. Without realizing it you had passed the lone patch of illumination visible because of the sunlight pouring through the shattered door frame. Nothing was particularly out of place, but it was getting harder to see the deeper you slipped into the shadowed death. Something was wrong when you took your next step. Water, you thought, pooled around your feet, but it was viscous like molasses. You could only assume it was leaking in from the rain-kissed air outside, still it felt off.
The heat made it hard to breathe. It felt as if you were stuck in an ocean with faulty gills, coughing for oxygen. Your attempts to quietly traverse the perimeter was futile with the constant sloshing. You couldn’t tell whether the restless stir of the substance belonged to you or to some other shadow breathing beside you. Without realizing it, you felt fingers on your throat,incapacitating your esophagus so tightly your vision slowly dimmed until nothing remained.
The kiss of death had caught you right in his trap.
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