Your Belos drawing looks edible /pos (i know nothing about the owl house so dont expect me to answer any questions or have an opinion on anything, and im aware i already technically said this)
This man has been living under a rock for 300+ years and will ask you what you meant by "edible"
I finished my painting for class and thought I’d share it 👀👀👀
It’s based off a poem we read in the class and then Interpreted ourselves—I kept thinking of an old man who’s filled up with all these ideas he never got to use, and he’s Kinda running out of time, and the lantern has his ideas/life force maybe in it?
He’s not paying attention, neither are you; you’re both reaching for the same book about Halo Reach and your hands clumsily knock into each other.
“Oh! Sorry, you can have it.” You smile at the young man, drawing your hand back. You aren’t really a competitive player - like to log on to just mess around and have fun. The young man probably could make better use of the book. Plus, you could just wait until he returns it - then you could check it out.
The man just stares at you (more specifically, your hand), mouth slightly gaped, as if you’d slapped him. Internally, you shrug before turning, intending to head to the science fiction section to see if you could find any books about space.
A hand clamps down on your shoulder, makes you jump before you look back. The young man isn’t looking at you, no, he’s looking at where his hand meets your body, eyes wide.
Is there something wrong? The man refuses to move, instead simply gripping your shoulder, rubbing his thumb against the skin exposed by your tank top. After a moment, you awkwardly shrug him off, giving him a tense smile.
“Do you need something?” It’s not accusatory, maybe he needs help checking out? But the man just stares at his hand, closes his fist, rubs his fingers together. You can’t quite place why, but it honestly makes you a bit uncomfortable.
“Okay, uh..... bye then.” You gave a little wave, shyly smiling. At your words, the man finally looks at your face, his red eyes wide. You expect him to say something, maybe explain his odd behavior or mimic your goodbye.
But he doesn’t
He just stares.
----
You suppose that meeting is the reason you’re here, hands tied to the headboard of a bed, room dark and musty. There’s a TV tucked in the corner, an Xbox and PS4 on the ground, game DVD’s stacked on each respective console. There’s a dresser shoved against the wall - plain and nondescript.
Save for the bed, TV, and dresser, the room is bare.
Too busy struggling to pick at the padded cuffs locking you to the headboard, you didn’t notice the door open and a man slip inside.
“You know who I am?”
The raspy voice made you jump, squeak in surprise. Breathless, you shook your head no, watched the blue-haired man from the library stand motionless at the door.
He laughed - more of a curt exhalation than a laugh, but you could tell he was amused, pleased. “Just call me Tomura then.”
----
Tomura was so excited. He couldn’t decide what he wanted to do first, looking at your helpless form. The glee that bubbled up inside him when he realized that you were all his, he could do whatever he wanted - it was euphoric.
Where to start?
He sat on the bed, ignored how you tried to shuffle away from him. You wouldn’t be able to get away away from him. He lifted his hand, touched your shoulder gently and watched as you flinched. It amazed him, the way your skin stayed whole, still silky and smooth underneath his destructive touch.
Tomura’s hand lifted, and then he hesitated. How was he decide what to do first? The man wanted everything.
As a test, he gently placed his hand, palm-down on your stomach. Your shirt disintegrated, fine dust getting blown away gently by the rhythmic whir of the ceiling fan. His fingers sank through the disintegrated shirt, touched your stomach. Your skin was unaffected.
You must have an immunity quirk, he mused.
Almost shaking with excitement, Tomura crawled over your body, straddling your abdomen so he could look at your face, hands touching and squishing the flesh there. He almost couldn’t believe this. Every single finger was making contact.
You felt so good.
With a sudden, forceful movement, he swooped down, mashing his cracked lips to yours, holding your face in place by gripping your jaw. You struggled, but he was stronger - kept you pinned.
Tomura stayed there for a while, his lips pressed against your own. He breathed through his nose, savored the feeling of your skin touching his.
He’d never let himself experience intimacy with another person, never let himself touch unless it was the intent to destroy.
Oh, he was going to destroy you, but not like that.
Devour would be a more accurate term.
Separating from the clumsy kiss, Tomura opened his eyes, face still inches away from yours. He just looked at you, drank in your features, breathing unevenly.
He wanted more.
Shimmying down, the young man hesitated when his hands skimmed against your bra. It’s not like he hadn’t seen a woman naked before; porn existed.
But he never actually thought he’d get the chance to touch one.
With barely a thought, your bra was disintegrated, Tomura tuning out your cry of distress.
Distantly, the man knew he was subtly shaking, his breath ragged. He was the picture of excitement and desperation, and he was glad you were the only one in the room to see him acting this way.
He gripped your breasts, one in each hand, massaged the mounds roughly. Tomura was pulling and pinching and rubbing the flesh, reveling in the feel of the soft, pliant flesh.
Gingerly, he lowered his head, laid it sideways against your chest, listened to your rapid heartbeat.
He could stay here forever.
But as all men, Tomura had needs.
His cock had been half hard from the moment he stepped in the room, anticipating what was to come. One of your thighs was positioned in between his legs, and each attempt you made to squirm away from his touch or buck him off had your leg pressing against his crotch.
It felt delicious, and Tomura wanted more.
Raising his head, He squeezed your breasts once more, before an undeniable urge struck him. And who was he to deny his instincts?
His mouth descended upon your left nipple, teeth grazing against the skin as he sucked feverishly. You tasted like salt, sweaty and heated, but Tomura could care less.
You were thrashing in your binds now, eyes squeezed shut, whimpering as he abused your flesh, occasionally lifting off one nipple to switch. He still had both hands gripping your breasts, mouth working one like a suckling babe while his hand kneaded the other. The sound was flithy, even to his own ears; the wet smack and squeak of his lips against your nipples.
He knew you could probably feel it when he began rocking his hips against your leg, clumsily humping you like a dog. Tomura couldn’t help it, beyond excited now and giving in to his most basic desires.
Tomura suckled at you for a long time, until your cries petered out and your thrashing slowed. He figured you had resigned yourself to your fate, calmed down. Or perhaps you’d quieted because you thought this was as far as he’d go? The thought was amusing to him.
His cock was throbbing, aching from how hard he was. Tomura felt like if he waited any longer, he’d die.
The man was reluctant to let go of your chest, but with a lewd pop, he let go. He sat up slightly, quickly shuffling out of his t-shirt, almost disintegrating his pants in his haste to be rid of them.
He watched you crack open your eyes, saw you whine as you caught sight of him undressing, realizing that the man was far from done. Tomura thought it was cute that you squeezed your eyes shut before he removed his boxers.
Tomura didn’t care that you didn’t want this. He wanted it, and that’s what mattered. The man had spent so much of his life depriving himself of what he wanted, he figured he deserved a little treat, especially one that was so compatible.
Fingers began working at your pants, peeling the fabric off your legs, undeterred by the way you kicked at the man. With those off and out of the way, he snatched at your panties, ripping them down to your thighs. But you squeezed your legs together, unwilling to part with the flimsy fabric, your last line of defense.
With a huff, Tomura let his pinky drop. He was too desperate to let your stubbornness get in the way of his goal.
Panties turned to dust, he pried open your legs, almost groaning when his hands dug into the plush flesh of your thighs. Getting to touch was heavenly, he didn’t know how he’d been able to go so long without feeling skin against his own.
He was panting now, not out of exertion, but eagerness. He lifted one of your thighs, hooked it over his elbow and lifted, giving him easier access to the soft, puffy pink gem nestled between your legs.
If he had more patience, more willpower, he’d bite and gnaw at your thighs, move up to lick and stroke your pussy until it was swollen and dripping. But right now, he just needed to be inside you.
Sticking two fingers inside his mouth, he coated them in saliva before gingerly prodding at your hole, pushing in both fingers. You cried out - not expecting the sudden stretch. Tomura grinned, the way your pussy clenched around his digits making him impossibly harder.
He wished, oh how he wished that he could just spear you on his cock right that second. But the man had seen enough porn, knew enough about the human body that doing so would be painful and unpleasant. He’d read that it was more pleasant when the woman was enjoying themself - plus, Tomura wanted to watch your pretty face twist in confusion as he pounded into you, try to convince yourself that he didn’t make you feel good.
Two fingers stretching you, Tomura quickly added a third, the gasp that you let out shooting straight down his spine and into his cock. He almost keeled over, burying his face into your hip and nipping at the flesh there as he groaned, fingers pumping out of your hole, pausing to scissor and stretch you, readying you for his cock.
Three fingers would have to be enough.
Tomura knew he wasn’t large, but he was decent for his size, cock proportionate to the rest of his body. The flushed head was leaking precum, and when Tomura withdrew his fingers from your cunt, he spread your juices over the rest of his shaft, mixing your wet with his precum.
He moaned at the feeling, hips unintentionally thrusting into his hand as he slicked himself up. He probably wasn’t going to last long the first time, but Tomura knew he was going to be able to go several, several rounds.
Thigh still hooked over his arm, he used his other hand to guide his cock to your pussy, hissing as he push the head up against your opening. You were sobbing now, begging him to stop, wait; for him to not do this, please.
If only you knew that your tears meant nothing. If anything, they only served to make him harder.
With a choked groan, Tomura eased his cock inside you. The rest of his body was shaking, vibrating with excitement and need. He was holding himself back, relishing the feeling of your walls fluttering around the stretch.
The article he had read said that it was best to start slow, let your partner adjust to the stretch before you picked up the pace.
So when he slid home, balls nestled against your ass, he paused.
He was panting, sweat beading upon his forehead. You were out of breath too, hands clutching at your bindings. Your lower half was resting on his lap, and for now he remained still, leaning forward to let his hand brush a few stray hairs out of your face.
You were so pretty.
Perhaps not the most beautiful woman in the world, but to him, you were perfect. He liked the imperfections, drank in the unconventional beauty of your features. One of these days, he wanted to film the two of you, just so he could go back and watch your face as you reacted to him, his mouth, his cock.
Tomura couldn’t wait anymore.
Without a word, he slowly slid out, then rocked back in. He made sure to keep his pace slow, even so as not to hurt you.
Well, he went slow for as long as he could.
On one thrust, he hit something inside of you that had you squeezing his cock in a vice grip, muscles tensing, mouth falling open. Tomura almost came right then and there, but by the grace of god (if such an entity existed) he held back.
With a manic grin on his face, Tomura increased his pace, keeping the angle so that his cock hammered into that spot. The hand not holding up your thigh came to rest on your pubic bone, thumb digging around the lips of your pussy until Tomura found what he was pretty sure was your clit.
Based on the way you writhed, he knew he had.
Rubbing rapidly, his cock squelching into your cunt, you gave a prolonged wail as you came, pussy clenching and milking Tomura so intensely that he had no choice but to follow seconds after. He hadn’t even thought about a condom, shooting his warm cum straight into your pussy, filling you to the brim.
He was speechless with pleasure.
Tomura was never, ever going to let you escape his grasp
