high drabble about finger sucking and cunnilingus with daryl dixon
im obsessed with sucking fingers. and of course daryl obliges.
have you seen the way no food goes to waste? every last bit is always slurped up by this man. so why wouldnt the same apply to you?
you huff and puff before just demanding your boyfriend eat you out. he stutters, but your word is his command. thats when he lets you know hes never done this before…
you smirk grabbing his large hand, slowly bringing his fingers to your lips. a soft kiss on his knuckle, nuzzling into his warm palm. his other hand rubbing up and down your thigh. it has your cunt pulsing.
youre sick with need and so you make the move hes been waiting for. “gotta wet ya fingers first…” its all slurred
his blueeyes wide, he watches you open your plump lips, and seal them around the first few inches of his middle finger.
hes addicted, just as you are. theres a spark between you both as you sloppily suck around his middle and ring finger. they’re thick and its all messy. they hit the back of your throat in no time, and you’re OBSESSED. you cant stop, the rhythm drags you in. hips rolling into his chest as you close your eyes and hollow your cheeks. tongue swirling and forcing its way between his digits.
daryl is desperately trying to keep up, groaning at the way you swallow and suck on his fingers. he imagines your slick lips on his dick, neck, and biceps. and his heart is beating out of his chest.
it all comes to a stop when daryl yanks his hand back to grab at your jeans. youre whining at the loss but quickly scramble to help him
“need ya fingers in me”
“thats wha im doing”
and oh does he. when you say just eat. hes unsure at first but dives in.
he takes a few long flat licks up your cunt, rolling the tip of his tongue around your clit before kissing.
and its messy and hot and everything you need
daryls fingered you before, but the way you scream squeal and twitch when he EATS is something different.
your back is arching, legs closing around his head so hard he has to pin you down. and he keeps curling his thick fingers into your g-spot. the breath is knocked right out of you.
youre gasping hard, whining his name, coiling your hand in his hair so you can watch the way he works his face into your clit. making out with it, eating like his last meal.
you snap, when he sucks particularly hard, while rubbing that spot that you love so much. and you go limp after, weakly pushing him away. grabbing his wrist, and forearm with tears in your eyes hiccuping.
you beg him to stop, or at least give you a break.
he pulls off, and slowly removes his fingers. sitting on his hunches, dick hard in his black denim.
youre slouched with your weight on your hands, watching him, watching you.
he switches focus from your glistening cunt to his own filty fingers. and the speed in which he sticks his fingers into his mouth is a shame. he groans, slobbering to get every bit off of his hand and forearm.
you wont let him have a second helping of your cunt so hes licking up his leftovers of course!
“gross”
he just takes his winged jacket off, shirt spilling unto the floor.
Boundaries. That was a concept you never quite worried about… well, at least not until you befriended Alastor. He had a tendency of being ‘familiar’ with those he came to trust and care for, including you—though, his hands always lingered on places that were entirely innocent in nature, such as your chin, your cheek, your shoulder, your arm, and, if he was feeling particularly adventurous, the small of your back.
And while you came to welcome his touch overtime, that didn’t mean that you could change the way you perceived his gestures, no matter how well-intended they were. You didn’t mind the occasional hug or pat on the back, but Alastor’s familiarity with your body was pushing past the boundaries of your friendship, which you’re more than certain is not what he intended to do. So, you tried to communicate your sentiments to him.
“Al, I know you mean well,” You awkwardly coughed out one day, spine tingling at the delicate press of his fingers against your lower back. “But I don’t think you understand what you’re doing to me.”
“I’m not sure I quite catch your meaning, my dear,” Alastor hummed. Of course he did not. He wasn’t even paying attention to you, not with his gaze fixated on whatever was unfolding before him. “I am doing nothing at all.”
It didn’t matter how many times you tried to broach the subject with him, he just didn’t seem to fully grasp the weight of the situation he had inadvertently designed. So, what did you do next? You began to return his gestures. And though he was content that you had finally found comfort in touching him, the moment he started to lose his bearings at the constant presence of your hands, your words rung in the back of his mind.
That’s when he started to ask you, ‘What are you doing to me?’ But you feigned ignorance, pleading for him to elaborate with an innocent frown gracing your features. His smile almost dropped. Not because you proceeded to caress the side of his face with the back of your hand, a twinge of worry present in the crease between your brows as you dragged your knuckles against his flushed skin, but because he felt graced.
Alastor managed to utter a ‘Nevermind,’ but that’s because he suddenly found his mind preoccupied with the foreign sensation brought about by your incessant touches, his own spine tingling at the delicate press of your nimble fingers against his chin, his cheek, his shoulder, his arm, and, if you were feeling particularly adventurous, the small tuft of fur near his lower back: his tail, an erogenous zone for him. How wicked of you.
The two of you continued to go back and forth with each other, somewhat aware of the sort of responses you were eliciting from your bodies, though it was more experimental on Alastor’s end and more revengeful on yours. One day, however, one of you ventured into dangerous territory; and, much to your surprise, it was he that initiated the intimate gesture. You were in the middle of dinner, mouth stuttering mid-chew.
“Are you okay?” Niffty asked from the other end of the table. It was her cooking you were eating, after all, and with everybody’s gazes fixed on you, you hastily made to nod your head. “Oh no, is the food not good? Did I overcook it? Did I not—”
“Yes!—Wait, no? I’m so sorry! I’m just distracted,” You spoke from behind your hand, trying not to squeak at the pressure on your thigh. “It’s great—trust me, the chicken is tender,” You added, and that was when she left you alone.
But Alastor did not. From your peripheral vision, you could see the curiosity hanging heavily on his brow, as if he was the one being felt in such an intimate manner. Though, you didn’t say or do anything, somewhat curious yourself. The pads of his fingers gradually moved away from your thigh and down to your knee, your flesh prickling at the softness of the gesture. There was a distant ache stirring in your core now, and he felt it, too.
It was in private when he confronted you about the feeling, however, having lost his bearings from all the days, the weeks, and the months the two of you had unconsciously spent familiarizing yourselves with each other’s bodies. You had finally taken a toll on him, and it was evident in the way he grabbed your wrist and gently pressed your hand to his chest. ‘What have you done to me?’ He asked with an anguished undertone.
“Nothing,” You stuttered out, overwhelmed by the flutter against your palm. His heart was racing, and so was yours, especially as he pulled you into an embrace by the waist with his other hand. “Well, only what you have done to me.”
Boundaries. Now he fully grasped what boundaries were, including the importance of enforcing them, for then one fell victim to a concept one never quite worried about. ‘This is love,’ You craned your neck to inform Alastor, your body pressed up against his. ‘Love?’ The word rolled off his tongue, as if savoring the feel of it. He knew what it was, though not the kind that you had fostered in his heart with your familiarity.
Alastor stared down at you intently, all the while, the hand on your waist abandoned its post. Your breath hitched as he traced your side, slowly and deliberately committing the fine curvature of your body to memory. By the time his fingers grasped your chin, you were a flustered mess. He felt just the same as you, but he masked it quite well, even as he dipped his head to tentatively capture your lips in what would be his first kiss.
Genre: Urban Fantasy, Modern Times, Porn With A Little Plot, Switchy vibes
Warnings: Explicit Content Ahead (18+ ONLY), Unprotected Sex (Wrap it before you tap it!)
Summary: Harley knows he's hot as hell. Literally.
He knows it's that combined with his god-like dirty talk and endless stamina that he got where he is today; One of the highest performing porn stars on the internet, his streams constantly hitting new records in terms of viewership and revenue. It's why he has no issue approaching you, the adorable stranger, at a mutual friends party. You're different, an unfamiliar face in a sea of people he knows intimately, and he's desperately curious how you ended up at a party full of pornstars. Especially when you look so...bookish. Not that it's a bad thing, of course, just unexpected.
What he doesn't know is just how full of surprises you are.
(GN!Writer!Reader x M!Pornstar!Incubus)
Word Count: 6274
For a party full of pornstars, this sure is boring.
Harley's not sure what it is about it, he’s usually the epitome of a social butterfly. Extroverted to the max, even for an incubus. His near limitless social battery is part of what makes his line of work so enjoyable; He’s always meeting new people, seeing the most intimate and hidden parts of themselves that no one else gets to see, getting to be with them more than others can. Even if he weren’t born an incubus, wasn’t literally fed by his work, he still thinks he’d be a pornstar. It’s just too much fun.
Maybe it’s the burning sun, hot enough that it sinks into his heat-resistant skin and almost has him melting into his pool floatie. The chitter-chatter of everyone else has faded to the background, his mind drifting elsewhere, the ice in his mimosa melting and making it nothing more than orange-juice water.
The party is packed with people, those who he does and doesn’t know. A mix of pornstars or sex demons or both, glisteningly beautiful and scantily clad in what barely counts as swimwear. Yet, Harley still can’t find himself interested, too relaxed on his floatie to even take a sip of his drink.
What finally draws his attention is the sound of the door slamming, the clicking of heels as the host dangerously runs past her own giant pool to greet the newcomer. It’s enough for Harley to pick up his head, finally sipping on the bendy straw and focusing his eyes to see whose come so fashionably late. Once he does, a perfectly trimmed eyebrow raises.
That’s interesting.
Now, Harley is far from one to make assumptions. He knows plenty of fellow sex demons and sex workers who, in spite of their profession, prefer to dress modestly in their day to day. But they rarely arrive to a pool party dressed in business pants and turtlenecks, even if they prefer to show less skin than most.
The host, Andronica, slams you into a hug, her ass cheeks jiggling with her razor-thin thong, practically nude as she shakes you around like an old friend. You giggle and set aside your sensible briefcase, meeting her energy back and giggling excitedly. After exchanging some words too quiet and far away for Harley to hear, you gesture your head to the bar. Andronica waves her hands as if to say “of course’ and walks off, presumably to continue her conversation with her coworkers and let you get your beverage.
Harley finds himself sitting up, the tip of his tail making mini whirlpools in the water.
Maybe this party isn’t so boring after all.
He slides off his floaty, making sure to toss his hair and pull up his swim shorts, baring a dangerous amount of his muscular thighs. Like a lot of people here, you can practically see the imprint of his cock through the black material, made all the more tantalizing by cut pelvis lines and his tree trunk thighs, adorned with black ink. Harley knows what he’s working with, and he’s planning on using it.
Even from afar and even in those stiff pants, Harley can tell you have a nice ass; Good size, nice shape, perfectly slappable. Your turtle neck is loose, but the imagination makes it all the more tantalizing. Especially when you lean over the bar to point out the kind of gin you’d like for your gin and tonic, and he gets the barest sliver of your bare back. What can he say, he does love a change of pace.
Harley tosses his hair again, letting it be perfectly bad-boy surfer fluffy, before he slides right next to you.
“Howdy.” He says, relishing the way you jerk in surprise. It’s cute, the way your hand clutches your chest.
“Oh!
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya.” Harley chuckles, his sexy chuckle that always makes people weak in the knees.
“It’s no problem. I just spent all morning at the office and I guess I’m still a little wired.” You say, huffing a laugh and quickly rebounding from your shock. Harley finds he likes the way your smile curves.
“Name’s Harley.” He holds out a hand, hoping you notice just how long and dextrous his fingers look.
You respond with your name and a firm handshake, business like, just like your attire.
“Never seen you around here before, are you a friend of Andronica’s?” Harley asks, pretending he wasn’t watching your entrance with rapt attention.
“Yes, actually we were roommates in college.” You tuck a piece of hair behind your ears. “We haven’t seen each other in a while, but I just moved back to the area so we were both psyched to see each other again” Ah, that makes sense. A school buddy, not a work buddy. “How do you know her?” Harley smirks, feathering the muscle of his jaw. He leans one of his arms up on the bar, conscious of the way it shows off his bicep and shoulder muscle.
“We’re coworkers. Never done a scene together, but a lot of mutual friends.”
Harley hates to admit it, but he expects a little blush. Maybe a stutter, or a look away. Clearly you know what she does, nor do you seem bothered by the excessive amount of nudity all around you, but Harley also knows that this line of work tends to be out of most humans' purview. So it's a surprise when you just nod, humming as if he just said that they met during pickleball.
“Cool! Do you usually do hardcore stuff, like her, or..” You trail off, eyeing the bartender making your drink.
“Uh, no, I'm kind of on the more basic side. I mean, not totally vanilla, I do some rough play, but nothing as intense as BDSM or that stuff.” Jeez, Harley might be the one blushing now. “I mostly stream, actually.”
“Ooh interesting, do you find that's easier or harder than the recorded stuff? Andronica always says she hates streaming. Doesn't like the pressure of a live audience.” The bartender slides your drink into your hand, yours sliding a nice tip her way and taking a sip.
Harely definitely didn’t expect the conversation to take this turn, but he certainly doesn’t hate it. Honestly, it's kind of refreshing having someone outside the industry to candidly talk about it.
“I prefer the live stuff actually. I’ve got a pretty solid audience, I like having immediate feedback. Plus, it's more independent so I get to play with a lot more ideas. Lot more improvisation, which has its perks.”
“Fascinating.” You take a big swig of your drink, and Harley’s surprised to see your eyes never wander. Never roll down his chest, glistening with water and sculpted like a marble statue. No, you put full and total attention to his eyes, really listening.
It’s…sort of hot.
“What do you do? You said something about an office?”
“Ahh, kind of. It was my publisher's office, I was having a meeting with my editor.” You wipe a bead of sweat from your forehead. That turtleneck is not doing you any favors in this heat. “I’m an author, actually. I’m writing my next book, so kind of in crunch mode at the moment.”
“Really? Thats fucking sick.” Harley finds himself leaning in. “What kinda books do you write?”
“Erotica.”
Harley finds his eyebrows raising. Wow, you really are full of surprises.
“Really? Anything I would know?”
“Maybe, I’ve had some decently popular ones. Lets see, I know Andronica really liked Passionate Midnight, so maybe she’s talked about it. Or Sunset On The Ship, that had a pretty broad reach. Late Nights At The Office also performed pretty well-”
Your spiel is interrupted by the bartender slamming her hands down, completely disregarding her glass cleaning.
“Oh my god! You’re Jamie Devereaux?”
You laugh, rubbing the back of your neck, the hint of a blush now coloring your cheeks.
“Ah, yes, that's my pen name. You know my books?”
“Omg, I love your books!” The bartender leans down and quickly produces a well loved copy of Late Nights At The Office, full of tabs and bent pages. Harley only catches a glimpse of the cover, a dragonborn woman dressed in a pencil skirt straddling a human man, before it's flipped open and pushed in front of you. “Gods, I know this is like, so unprofessional, but could I get your autograph?”
You laugh again, a twinkling sound Harley could definitely get used to, and sign.
“It’s no problem. What's your name?”
“Emilie!” The bartender bounces up on the balls of her feet, jittering from excitement as you write a sweet message in big swooping cursive. For the first time in his life, Harley understands what it's like to feel like a side character.
“Here ya go. Happy to hear you like them so much. It means a lot.”
The bartender squees looking at her signed copy.
“The girls at the book club are gonna be so jealous. Seriously, thank you so much.” She looks down at your half-empty glass. “Let me make you another drink! G&T?”
“Perfection.” You give her a thumbs up, finally turning attention back to Harley.
“Well, it seems to me you're more than decently popular.” Harley style says, tilting his head and stepping even closer into your space. You don’t seem flustered a bit, if only from the fan interaction. You shake your hand to say “Oh, stop it.”
“Well, the fanbase is small but passionate. I’m far from famous.”
“I don’t know, something tells me I should check these books out. Sounds like the’;re pretty good.”
Your eyes sparkle, the beautiful smile curling up your face again as he mentions your work. God, Harley wonders why Andronica hasn’t made you any offers to guest star before. You have the perfect goody-two shoes look that would bounce well with her dominatrix vibe.
“Well, lemme know what you think. I’m always down for constructive criticism.” You down the rest of your drink as Emilie slides you a fresh one, giving her a silent “thank you”. “Or, y’know, heaps of praise don’t hurt either.” You wink, and Harley feels his stomach twisting up in a good way.
Oh, you were just what this party was needing.
Harley’s about to lead into another line when Andronica’s calling your name, waving you over to her big group of friends sitting by the pool. One of them holds up a book, and while Harley can’t see the cover, he’d bet good money it's another one of yours.
“Whelp, friendship duty calls.” You grab your drink and briefcase, slinging it over your shoulder. “It was very nice to meet you, Harley. See you around?”
“Sure thing. Andronica loves to throw a party.”
You chuckle.
“Don’t I know it.”
Harley is unashamed watching you walk away, letting his eyes wander down the line of your back and to that cute little ass.
Yeah, he’s definitely seeing you again
—
The rest of the party is a bust after that. Andronica’s too busy showing you off for Harley to get any time alone with you, finding himself leaving after another two hours of floating in the pool. Probably for the best anyway, he has a stream tonight and doesn’t want to be too sunbaked.
After another successful performance involving a vibrating fleshlight and plenty of “yeah, you like that?”, Harley finds himself scrolling through social media. Specifically Andronica’s social media: Specifically, her “Followed” list, desperately trying to find your account. To his glee, he finds two; both your personal account and your author account. While your personal is private, your author account has more than enough for him to obsess over.
You keep your appearances to a minimum, but you're not totally hidden away. There are plenty of pictures of you at fan meetups or book signings, a blurb of you in the back of each successful copy. You post a lot of fan submitted art and the official covers of each novel, each one different from the last. Seems you write a little bit of everything; Fluffy Slow burns, Historical drama, dark thrillers, all tied together by a healthy amount of smut. It's after two hours of scrolling that Harley finally bites the bullet and buys a copy of your last release, Forbidden Passions. The cover is what attracts him most, a curvaceous lead being bent over a desk by her chimera boss.
He learns quickly just how humbly you were acting. Holy shit, this smut was good.
If Harley was being honest, he never quite understood the appeal of written pornography. To him, his favorite parts of porn are things writing never quite grasps. The sounds, the frenetic energy of the performance, the ambiance. Yet he finds himself just as enraptured as he gets to the dirty bits of your book, practically hearing the slapping skin, the voices in the dirty talk. He feels himself getting worked up by every paragraph, every sentence, every word. Eventually, he even makes himself cum, despite spending himself pretty hard not hours before.
That night, before he goes to sleep, he slides into your DM’s, and asks if you’d like to get coffee.
—
Harley isn’t quite sure what he’s expecting from your first date. You had left him tantalized, just enough for him to crave more, yet still completely unaware of what could come next. You had already defied most of his presuppositions in your first five minute conversation.
What he definitely isn’t expecting is just how easy it is to talk to you. He tones down his pornstar charm this time, seeing his extra layer of flirtatiousness would be nothing compared to your honesty, yet still finding himself desperate for your approval. You make him laugh, he makes you laugh, and hours fly like minutes. Coffee turns into lunch, lunch turns into a walk around the city, and that turns into dinner at one of his favorite pizza places. He didn’t realize arguing with someone about video games over a $2 slice of pizza could be so intoxicating.
“I’m just saying, if we’re talking about Miyamoto’s original vision for the game, I don’t see how any other Zelda game can compare to Breathe of the Wild or Tears of The Kingdom. Like, they make all the others look like ass.” Harley says, picking at a stray peperoni from his paper plate and shoving it in his mouth, not a care for how uncouth it makes him look.
“Wow, the absolute slander spewing from your mouth right now is ridiculous.” You say, eyes wide with playful indignation. “You’re lucky you’re so handsome, Harley, or else I would not let this blasphemous speech about Ocarina of Time slide.”
“Booo. Basic.”
“It’s a classic for a reason! And what, you’re saying Wind Waker is ass?! C’mon, tell me you have better taste than that.”
The two of you spend several more hours just like that, gorging on pizza and talking each other's ears off.
It’s nice, getting to chat with someone about this. While he knows plenty of others in his field who like nerdy shit, Harley is used to being categorized as a jock. And yeah, while he enjoys basketball and baseball as much as the next guy, it's not often someone is willing to chat video games with him this passionately and for this long. His few nerd friends are more into FPS and speed strats, and while your tastes definitely veer into the more visual-novel, cozy gaming side, your love of the medium means the two of you never find a lull in your conversation.
By the time you realize it, the pizza guys are politely asking you to get the fuck out so they can close up for the night. You both leave in a blustered, embarrassed mess, still giggling into each other. Harley can’t remember the last late night he didn’t spend at a bar, or streaming, or co-oping in COD with pals. It’s…nice. You’re company.
Even nicer when you invite him back up to your apartment.
—
Your apartment’s cute, just like you. A perfectly humble size, not too small, not too big. Cozy, full of decorations and knick knacks from across the years, matched with an eclectic collage of garage sale furniture. It has all the hallmarks of your job and passion, a dedicated writing room with a large desk and minimal distractions, a magnificent bookcase that spans the entire wall of your living room, and notebooks crammed with notes and drawings at odd places all around.
Harley only has a moment to take it all in, to enjoy the peek into your life, before you yank down his fly. As cute as the apartment is, Harley thinks the sight of you on your knees is much cuter.
“Are you sure you’ve never done-” Harley lets out a breathy sigh, watching your tongue swirl around his head, “- sex work before? Because you’re sucking like a professional.”
You pop off for just a second,
“Positive.” You say with a wink, before taking him all the way to the base in one fell swoop.
“Oh, f-uck.” His fingers knot in the hair at the base of your skull on reflex, desperate for something to steady himself. Harley can feel the back of your throat against his weeping tip. And while he’s had his fair share of experienced partners, barely has anyone been able to take him this deep this fast. “That’s it. Suck it baby.”
Suck it you do. Drool and precum smacking on your lips as you move your mouth up and down, hollowing out your cheeks for maximum suction, tongue dragging along his shaft in just the right away. Harley’s knuckles turn a light pink from his clenching, nails digging into your scalp. He forces that tension to release once he realizes, understanding that not everyone enjoys the pain. But when the hand fondling his balls grabs his wrist and forces it back into place, Harley thinks otherwise. He lets out a breathless laugh. Gods, why is he even surprised by you anymore?
Harley doesn’t hold back, holds you still and stuffs your throat with his meaty dick, forces you to smell all of him, nose deep in his (neatly trimmed) pubes. Your covetous tongue flickers out, his cock deep enough that your tongue’s tip reaches his balls. Harley’s sure you can feel the blood pulsing on your palate, the veins of his shaft throbbing as he tries his best not to cum then and there. He’s supposed to be the professional here, after all.
Harley lets up on his grip when you tap his thigh, preparing for you to take a deep breath; Instead you pull your mouth to the very tip, lips wrapped tight around his frenulum, flaring your nostrils before slamming back down.
“Fuck!” Harley whines between his teeth when start bobbing your head faster, making your deep throat from before look like amateur work. You bully your own throat on his cock, let it thud against your gag with each nod of your head. Amidst it all you never lose your gaze on him, even when tears bud at the sides and drool falls down your jaw. Your nails dig half-moons into his bare thighs, helping keep your balance on your knees.
“Holy shit, babe.” Harley can barely sputter out the words between the smacking of your lips, a fuzz going over his mind. “Wanna fuck your mouth. Can I?”
A surge of pleasure goes up his spine when you nod, spreading down to his stomach when you open up your mouth and relax your jaw, losing the tight suction on his cock. Harley’s toes wiggle in the excitement, one second away from letting out a goddamn ‘yippee’.
“Tap if it's too much, okay?”
You nod in understanding, his cock head bouncing around in your mouth, though a part of him hardly thinks you need the advice. Clearly this is not your first rodeo.
Readjusting his grip on your head, He wastes no time to force his dick back down your throat, another tinge shooting up his back when he feels you gagging around the thick shaft. But no tap on his thigh yet, so he doesn’t relent, pulling back and surging in within a half second, setting a hard and fast pace, using your mouth like a fleshlight.
“S-shit, gonna make me-” Harley wheezes, biting down on his bottom lip, “-m-make me cum.” He grabs your head with his other hand, forcing you steady and thrusting his hips even harder. “I wanna cum down your throat. Want you to swallow it. Can you do that for me?” Your eyes crinkle up, a wiry smile on your lips despite the thick dick jutting in and out. You give him a nod, your lust fragrant on Harley’s tongue. You taste delicious. “So good for me.” Harley pats your cheek, his hands trembling from his focus. He can feel the knot twisting in his belly, his balls tightening as they thwap against your chin. “Fuck, h-here it comes!”
With one last yank of your head, Harley seats his cock the deepest it can go down into your mouth, jets of hot cum peppering the back of your throat and reaching all the way down to your stomach. Harley almost wishes you were a sex demon like him, if only so you could truly savor the lust he’s filling you with.
Your eyes going cross send him into aftershocks, his hips jutting up into your cheeks as the final drops of his orgasm decorate your esophagus. Fuck, he wishes he had a camera right now, wishes he could turn you into a star.
As an incubus, Harley’s lack of a true refractory period was something to be proud of. But after that even he needs a moment to breathe, falling out of your mouth and back onto your couch, chest heaving. He quickly strips off his shirt, not even in an attempt to show off his impressive chest and stomach, but to relieve the heat that steams off his skin. A blush has colored his pecs a dark purple, sweat dripping down in between the crevices of his statuesque muscles.
“Holy shit.”
He wipes off the rivulets currently sticking his hair to his forehead. His skin feels tingly when you crawl up his side, your kisses charting a path from his navel to his neck, like lightning on his nerves. You look unfairly put together, still fully dressed in your outfit from today, the only sign of debauchery being his sweat and juices decorating your lips and jaw. With a gentle nudge of two fingers you turn him to face you, meeting in a belly tingling kiss.
“How you feeling?” Your voice whispers against his lips, fingers coming up to pet at the back of his neck in a way that has him purring like a kitten.
“Great.” Harley manages to stutter out before smashing his lips back into you, a desperate attempt to reclaim the power, to guide what happens next. But deep inside, both of you know that's impossible. Still, he grabs the wrist currently tapping its fingers across his chest and guides it down to his crotch, his cock already perking back up under your attention. The blowjob may have winded him more than expected, but he was still an incubus. His hard shaft in your palm has you smirking, wiggling your shoulders in a mischievous way.
“Yeah?” You laugh, and Harley regrets the way his mouth follows yours when you pull away. If his fan base could see him now, they’d be creaming at this unusual side. Probably spamming the chat when his fangs clamp down on his bottom lip, pupils blowing out as you finally shuck off your outfit, as he finally gets a full glimpse of that beautiful body you’ve been keeping from him. You’re even hotter than he imagined.
In the next second you're on him, don’t let him even get a glimpse of your sweet hole before it’s gliding over his spit-slick shaft. You suck in your bottom lift, eyes rolling back with your grinding, feeling his girth against you. Harley lets out a shuddering breath.
“You want it?” Harley asks, not meeting your eyes, instead drawing them down your chest and across your cute nipples. He wants to pinch them, wants to bite them.
“Desperately.” You moan with another roll of your hips, goosebumps peppering his thighs at the sound. Such a nice voice. He thinks Andronica must be crazy for not inviting you to a shoot; Just one night and he was practically begging for you to be his next co-star.
“Then take it, baby. Ride me.”
He says it like one, but you both know it's not a command. It’s a desperate plea, a bratty request. The kind that has you smiling, leaning over so your chest to chest, hand curling around the back of his neck. His heart catches when your fingers dig into the baby hairs at the back of his skull and yank him backward, baring his thick throat like it's a morsel. Your teeth sink into his meaty neck, hard enough to bruise. Harley moans again, sure you can feel it rumbling through your body.
“O-oh~”
His eyes roll back as you attack the thin skin on his pulse with your mouth, forcing his shoulders to pin back with the tight grip you have on his hair. With controlled movements you sit up until his cockhead presses against your hole, guiding it with your free hand until it's perfectly lined up.
“P-please.” Harley croons, unable to be teased any longer. His balls feel like they’re about to burst. You smirk against his skin, pausing your kisses to whisper a-
“Good boy.”
Then, you’re sinking down his cock, as easily and quickly as your mouth took him earlier. Yet still you're tight, squeezing and warm. Precum drips down his head in rivulets, only easing your assent. Harley moans when your hips finally meet his, feeling his cockhead pressed as deep as it could possibly go. Fuck.
The first roll of your hips has his back arching, forcing his head deep into your grip, chasing the pain of your nails digging into his skin. The second roll has his toes curling, lewd noises crawling up his throat. The tenuous seconds once you finally pull up, let him almost fall out of you with only the tip remaining, before slamming back down, has him seeing stars. Just a couple moments, a couple moments of tantalizing teasing, to let him catch his breath. Before the real show begins.
“Aa-aah~” All Harley can do once you start riding him in earnest is cling on to your hips, fingers squishing into your love handles in an attempt of staying sane. It's a herculean effort, when you bounce so beautifully on his cock. In normal circumstances this is when he’d take control, use his superior demon strength to move you on his cock, or force you in place and make you beg for him to keep moving. Even when he thrusts upwards, flexing his glutes and pressing his cock against the sensitive spot inside, you’re still in control.
“You like that?” You pant, sweat finally starting to bead up on your skin. Your fingers had loosened in their grip, focusing your energy in throwing your hips up and down, but they yank once more when Harley tries to move. The whimper that escapes his lips is foreign to his own ears, yet so delicious. “You like being my toy? My dildo?” Your sultry voice bounces directly in his ear, his hands clawing at your thick ass, pawing and groping. You yank when he doesn't respond, the feeling shooting straight into his cock.
“Y-yes! Yes, I love it!” Harley turns and open-mouth kisses you, all desperation and craving being connected to you in every way. You chuckle into his mouth, indulging him with a french kiss, just as sloppy as the rest of him. “U-se me, use me!” Harley slurs between kisses, tongue and brain and cock far too preoccupied for his normal, controlled dirty talk.
“Hmmm, good boy.” You say, finally pulling away so only a string of saliva connects your two lips. Your fingers unwrap from his hair; but Harley doesn’t have time to complain when they draws down his chest instead, pinching one of his nipples.
“Fuck!” He whines, hips jumping again into your aching hole. You don’t reprimand him this time, rewarding his debauchery with a deliberate squeeze of your insides. “S-shit!”
You’re sitting up now, one hand still playing with his pec while the other rests on his thigh, perfectly aligning yourself so his cock goes even deeper. Your core and leg strength are impressive, perfectly balancing on his dick and still going up and down, up and down. The slapping of your two bodies, his balls hitting your ass cheeks, sticking together with sweat and bodily fluids, is a cacophony across the apartment. A part of him hopes your walls are thick, but the exhibitionist part hopes they're thin. Hopes everyone on the block can hear him and his pretty moans, hear you talking him through it.
“I’m-” Harley sucks in a breath through his teeth, “-fuck-I’m close.” He’d be embarrassed, in other circumstances, by his lack of stamina. On a normal day he can go for hours, indulging himself in orgasm after orgasm, stomach never feeling full, his balls never empty. Yet under you he finds himself on the razor’s edge, the last remnants of his mind forcing his own concentration and stopping him from blowing his load without at least proper warning.
“Hmm? That so?” You halt, his cock still pulsing inside you as you tap your chin. The whine that vibrates his cock is that of an animal. His hand squeezes your ass, trying his best to forcefully grind you on his cock. But a lightning fast slap to his wrist has him retreating, kneading at your cheeks like an apology, properly domesticated and docile. “Seems to me…” You hum, slowly rising up from your knees and letting him thwap outside of you, now nestled between your ass cheeks, “...you still have to work for it.”
With a dramatic flourish you fall to the side of him, quickly adjusting so you’re on your back; Legs wide open, hole practically begging for his cock. Your message is understood immediately, adrenaline shooting directly into his veins and making any exhaustion fall to the wayside. Harley pounces on you, meeting you in a forceful kiss, so desperate it makes you chuckle.
Despite the way you tease him, it's your gentle hand that guides his cock back to where it belongs. As aloof as you act, Harley can smell your desire, thick enough to have his forked tongue flicker out and taste in the air. So sweet, so tantalizing.
Harley can’t help the sigh once he’s back inside, the way his cock twitches with joy upon feeling your insides around him. He’s too far gone to pretend he’s not hounding for it.
“Show me what made you a star.” You purr in his ear, and if he wasn’t ready to go before, then that is what sets him over the edge.
His hands find their place back on your hips, but not just to steady himself. Now it’s to make sure you don’t wiggle away, that he has a solid grip. Because now, it’s his time to shine.
He doesn’t give you a breather as you did for him; No, he’s far too pent up for that. Besides, with the way you're looking at him he doubts you’d want it anyway.
“Aah!” You yelp when his dick first pounds against that sensitive spot, teeth clamping down on your lip hard enough to break the skin. Your hands crawl up his muscled back, struggling to find purchase on the sweaty, hard planes as he starts pounding into you like a machine. Like he was crafted just for this, which in a way, he was. “Fuck, right there!”
Normally, this is where Harley would let his mouth work his magic too. Talk you through it, whisper every dirty, unspeakable thought he’s had about you and this tight little hole. But he finds his throat dry, too focused on making you cum on his cock, on not letting himself cum before you do, to even try. All he can offer are animalistic grunts that come from a deeper, unconscious part of him. The baser, less-performative side that's only for you, not the cameras.
“Yes!” You wail, legs wrapping like a vice around his waist, forcing him even deeper inside. You can’t even cross your ankles, his muscular torso too wide, even though you try your damndest. Anything to keep him pounding at the same, delicious spot. Especially when he curls his hands under your ass and forces your body to bend, to allow him to drag against your inner walls in a way that has your vision going spotty. “Yes, yes, yes!”
The heavy breathing in your ear, the feeling of his thick body against your chest, his hair hanging like a curtain around you; All of it feels handcrafted by sex-gods themselves, specifically meant to scramble your brain until all you yearn for is one more orgasm.
Harley’s balls slap against your ass hard enough to bruise, the sharp edges of his defined stomach digging into your softer abdomen. Good, he wants you marked up, wants you to smell of him for days. Speaking of marks…
“Un–gh.” Your eyes finally clench shut, your hands finding their rightful place on Harley’s skull when he starts sucking on your neck. He doesn’t bother holding back, can feel your body reacting when his fangs nip at the sensitive skin. A primordial feeling has come over him, the need to claim you, to shape you until only his cock will fit inside you. Till the only thing you both can taste is each other.
“Wanna cum inside.” He pants directly into your ear, craving what he rarely gets to feel. While one of the few benefits of being an incubus is being unable to get STI’s, he still practices caution in every shoot, wanting to emulate something for his followers to take away. Yet still a part of him craves it, the base part that wants to see you dripping with him, walking with his seed inside you. “Can I?” You answer him with a fervent nod and another tug on his hair, pulling him into a half-moan half-kiss. The knot inside his stomach pulls even tauter, but Harley still knows it's not time just yet. He’d asked just in case, but he has one more task to complete before his dreams come true.
So the next thing you know your ankles are up by your head, Harley pulling away from the drooling kiss to put all his energy into the mating press, his cock practically carving a hole into your gut. All your nerves light up, ablaze with too much sensation, and you can see your toes start curling mid-air.
“Fuck-I’m gonna-”
“Cum for me, baby. C’mon.” Harley’s nostrils flare, eyes bloodshot as he fights with all his might not to cum before you do. Even when you make that beautiful face, when your body wracks with pleasure and squeezes around him.
“Fuck!” You both scream at the same time, bodies pulsing with energy as Harley shoots you full of his cum and your whole milks him for all that it's worth. With a final few pumps of his hips he rides out the climax, overstimulating your poor entrance as he makes sure every last drop stays deep inside you.
Harley can’t remember the last time he was this exhausted, this full. His belly pooches out with the glut of pleasure in his stomach, his mind feeling hazy as he collapses back onto you. All his finely formed muscles, crafted from hours at the gym and a strict routine, do nothing to hold him up against this exhaustion, even as he clings to the arm of your sofa. The one comfort he has is that you’re just as exhausted, sweat slicking your entire body, your poor human heart pounding like a bass drum against his chest.
“Oh-” Harley sighs, face deep in your neck, no doubt leaving sweat stains on your sofa, “-my god.”
Your laugh, the beautiful, twinkling one, bounces off his ears. Your hands card through his long, sweaty tresses, your grip much more gentle than before.
“I know.” You sigh, kissing his temple.
The two of you stay like that, interlocked, for a while. It takes several minutes for your muscles to bounce back, for the dehydration to kick in and finally force you two apart. Harley doesn’t think he’s missed anything more than when his cock falls out of you.
“I’ve got-” You wheeze, just the act of sitting up taking out your miniscule energy, “-I’ve got lemonade.”
“Fuck yeah.” Harley says, giving a thumbs up. It has you giggling again, kissing his outstretched palm.
“Does that mean you want a glass?”
Harley just nods, face now pressed down into your stomach. You laugh, and move to stand up. Harley's arms wrap around your legs.
“I’ve gotta get up to get the lemonade, dork.” You pat his head, and with a dramatic groan, Harley lets you leave him. Though not without tilting his head, watching that cute little ass sway as you head towards your tiny apartment kitchen.
(fanfic inspired by this mouthwatering fanart of Overhaul by @spectra-phantasma Thank you for your hard work, love! 🐦⬛💜💚)
News spread like wildfire last night.
Rumor has it that he was captured during his guild's disbanding and jumped, stolen from his home and his adoptive father, forced to watch as his lands and properties were set ablaze by blue hell flames. The street rat who went from rags to riches and into a matter of a few hours was once again homeless, penniless, and on the streets.
The proud, arrogant, and confident young boss still stood tall, golden hues frosty, even when barely clothed and close to butt naked, in chains, leather, and a quirk restraining collar.
He looks so pretty tied like that. You think with a coy smile on your lips. You had snuck out of the palace and made your way into the underground black market, more specifically, the human slavery and trafficking district. Your only bodyguard, Eraser Head, is at your side. He was all you needed.
Even in chains, caged and bound, you could see it.
The fire in his molten amber gaze, as cold and hard as his low, monotone voice when he hissed, grumbled, and cursed at the slave traders touching him and dragging him onto the stage as the next main attraction. The infamous Overhaul, the underground's "demon with no heart," the man with a godlike and alchemist-level quirk, and apparently, he had a Greek God's temper and body to match.
You wanted to break him. Make him into your fuck toy and your personal pretty courtesan.
Yes. You must have him, Kai Chisaki, Overhaul.
You always saw him in passing, in the crowds with his magenta and golden beaked plague mask covering the lower half of his face. Now, with the birdlike opened caged muzzle strapped to his face, you could finally see all of him fully.
You bit your lip as arousal and excitement, the thrill of owning him and making him yours heated and coiled in your abdomen, making lust and desire pool between your thighs.
You are the Queen; what you want, you get.
Eraser knows that look in your eyes. He'd seen it a thousand times when you found a pretty and unbroken toy you desperately wanted to play with. Watch it bend and break, fall for your charms, your body, and cling onto your freely given love before getting bored and moving on to a new one.
Underneath his cloak, Eraser inwardly sighs. He knew there was no way of talking you out of this. His Mistress was stubborn; at least, she used her funds wisely, unlike the previous Queen, who loved to throw grand balls and parties nearly every two months on top of national holidays. When your mother died, you acted quickly with the help of All Might, and Endeavor salvaged the kingdom's debt, and crime rates lowered. You kept your citizens fed and taxes at a reasonable rate.
Of course, you knew crime was everywhere. Even during times of peace, other kingdoms waged wars, burned, pillaged, started anew, and rebuilt. It's the law of the world, the game of thrones, the never-ending darkness that plagues this world in a society where people are valued by their quirks rather than themselves individually.
Eraser's charcoal black orbs turned from your masked and cloaked covered figure and returned to the stage. His highly trained eyes took in the other man's physique, the honed and refined hard muscle yet lean and agile, his shape and potential. Overhaul relied heavily on his quirk, but it was clear he still maintained and sharpened his body as well as his mind. The caged raven had hidden his body underneath his clothes to fool his enemies.
That alone made him earn a hint of respect. Plus, if his Queen was injured, he could have the ex-villain cure her with his alchemy and quirk, keep him as a bodyguard and shield... adding him as their Queen's lover would bind him to her.
Eraser and Hawks would still keep watch in the shadows until Overhaul fully gained their trust. If the ex-criminal refused their Queen's more than generous offer, then they would make his life into a living hell. He scanned the place once more, arms crossed and leaning against the stone wall. He needed to remain alert and ready should someone recognize them. So far, everyone's gazes and murmuring whispers were more focused solely on the man on stage.
The market was crowded, jam packed.
No doubt Overhaul's fellow captured allies, and enemies were all watching with bated breath, wondering their boss's fate after being captured, humiliated, stripped of his status, clothes, and about to be sold, his fate sealed.
Nezu walked on stage, and the room grew quiet.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," The dog, rat, mouse, whited furred leader of the slave trade smiled brightly in delight to see another human suffer as he bit back his sadistic mirth and laughter. "It's a pleasure to welcome everyone tonight. I'm sure you are all here to see the fate of our beloved, dangerous, and highly respected raven on stage."
He waved his paw towards Overhaul and gave a bow of respect.
"As much as I've appreciated your past contributions, Overhaul," Nezu hummed, closing his eye and shaking his head. "I'm afraid my hands are tied as The League has already sold you to me." A string of evil giggles slipped out, then he coughed and cleared his throat, his mask of professionalism returning, and sighed dramatically. "But alas, I've decided from the goodness of my heart to offer those gathered tonight to become your new Master or Mistress." His black, beady eyes darkened as Overhaul's own golden hues returned to the trader's gaze with a challenging glare.
Lesser slaves and weak-willed citizens shivered in the crowd.
Nezu's cheery tone returned as he faced the audience. "Let's begin with the price of a generous 10,000 gold, shall we?" His mask cracked as he threw his head back and cackled loudly, unhinged and barking laughter; clearly amused by many of the humans' faces paled and their jaws dropped.
Did the half-mad, sneaky little rat truly start the bid with the price he bought Overhaul for? Of course, he did.
The bids were starting.
It kept climbing higher and higher until only a few nobility were remaining to stake their claim on such a prized, caged, and handsome bird.
You noticed a familiar, greedy old hag a few rows across from you. You'd recognize that long, thick, spiky, dark purple hair anywhere.
Your eyes immediately narrowed, Nemuri Kayama, Midnight. The Mistress of The Underground Pleasure District and local Brothels, or "Streets of Heaven and Sin," which is widely known, even in the Capital. The purple-haired and blue-eyed woman was a decade your senior; she might have once been your best friend and found sister, but not anymore. No, not since you became Queen and she became her family's Mistress.
Midnight flaunted her beauty, charming both men and woman around her red-painted manicured and painted nails. Her black dress was skin tight and accentuated her voluptuous figure as she kept her arms uncovered in case she needed to use her quirk on misbehaving clients, citizens, enemies, workers, and slaves.
As if feeling your gaze on her, Midnight half turned. Her blue eyes meet yours, twinkling with mirth and amusement underneath her red mask. Fully facing you before making a beeline towards you, as her hoard of lackeys, chained boy toys, and workers followed their mistress on chained and leather leashes attached to her wrist. Each of the poor bastards was wearing a metal cock ring underneath their robes, and whimpering moans, muffled groans, and needy whines escaped their mouths in one shape or form.
She let go of the leash to her assistant, a newbie in training, if you had to guess. The poor redhead. A shy woman must have had some promises and potential if Midnight handpicked her for the job as her assistant to take over in one of her many brothels. Her red hair, green eyes, and luscious curves made her stand out and beautiful; you can admit that.
"Well, well, it's rare to see you coming down from your high tower, your majesty." Midnight purred, tilting her head and holding her riding crop underneath her chin. "See something you like, pet?"
Your smile strained, and your jaw twitched. "Good evening, Midnight. How's business?"
Eraser inwardly sighed, great. Midnight had a habit of riling you up and teasing you out of sisterly affection, a little too hard. Borderline, nearly pouncing on you after she riles her own-self. He swears if Mic here - No, oh second, thought, don't think about that overly loud, yellow cockatiel.
He noticed that the remaining bidders were you and Midnight, the two richest and powerful women in the kingdom.
Nezu waited, a purple and blue aura surrounding him. "Ladies, would you like to continue higher bidding?" He knew who you were. You couldn't fool him. He knew your scent and settled traits.
He turned to Midnight, "Midnight?"
"He's such a handsome and pretty delicious birdman, isn't he?" Midnight smirked, hand on her hip and staring directly at Overhaul, who sneered at her, his clear distaste and disgust visible through the muzzle.
Oh dear, he doesn't seem to like her.
It's impressive, even while bound and chained, disgraced, he still looked his nose down at Midnight.
She turned towards you, practically gushing and wiggling with excitement and arousal, unashamed as she bit her lower lip and squealed loudly. "Oh, darling. The harder they resist, the sweeter it is to break them!" Midnight knew your secret, your obsession, and infatuation with Overhaul, the ex-criminal.
Strutting towards you with a confidant sway of her hips as her breasts moved against her thin gown, leather, chains, and jewelry. Pulling out her black feathered fan to cover her mouth, leaning towards you and whispering, "Do you truly want him, my sister?" She purred with a seductive drawl, cheeks heated and sky blue eyes sparkling.
You narrowed your eyes, talking through clenched teeth. "What do you want, Midnight?" You bit out. "You usually aren't so generous and willing to give a handsome man away without a reason."
Midnight shrugged and giggled, patting you on the back and pulling you into her side. "Now, now, don't get upset, Y/n." She pouted and scolded lightly in a motherly voice.
You felt her breasts squishing against yours, and you inwardly groaned, yet your irritation and aggravation bled through, "Gods above and the afterlife, what do you want, Nemuri?"
Midnight released another loud, girly squeal as she pressed her cheek into yours. "Oh, Y/n, please, please, let me borrow Eraser for a weekend, please, please, please!" She practically begged, swaying you back and forth, literally begging.
Eraser's eyes widened, and he shook his head no. A huge noticeable blush on his face. He loved getting kinky in the bedroom, but Midnight could be, well, a bit too extreme. Her dominant and sadistic side was sexy, hell, he matched her freak, but other than sex and being old friends, they hardly saw each other.
It made things more awkward.
Rolling your eyes, this time, you sighed. "What do you need him for?"
"I need him to keep me company for a trip to the Capital!" Midnight let go of you and leaned back, pressing her hands against her cheeks and practically bouncing. "It's a long trip, and I need new clothes, potions, equipment, and a little of this, and a little of that -" The innuendos weren't lost to you. You've been to her pleasure dungeon, or "play room" as she calls it. It's actually quite impressive.
You cut her off, keeping your voice firm and quiet, "Only, if you don't overly drain him and wear him out again, Nemuri... I need him for work." You press, hand on your hip.
As Nemuri opened her mouth, the tiny mouse, bear, dog, thing interrupted.
Nezu's voice raised, calling for both women's attention. "Will there be another offer, ladies?" He asks, tone dark and sweet with an undertone of impatience. "Midnight?" His black, beady eyes stare at Nemuri, then to you. "Mysterious Stranger?"
Overhaul's stood there, looking bored. His hands were tied behind his back, wearing this ridiculous open and mocking birdcage covering his face, he was bound in leather and chains, and only given a loincloth to cover his groin, but his ass was out.
This whole unfortunate situation was downright humiliating and degrading, damaging his pride. He didn't care which one of those women wanted him; he wanted a bath, he was hungry, the night's chill made him cold, he was tired and wanted to sleep.
Get on with it. He inwardly groans, hands clenching behind his back.
Despite his irritation and drowsiness, a hint of curiosity was drawn to the mysterious stranger. He didn't know why he should care. And yet... something about your voice sounded familiar? It escaped him. Making him more inwardly frustrated with himself. It sounded soft, seductive, comforting, and dare he say angelic?
Overhaul's gaze flickered to the matriarch of The Underground's Pleasure District, Nemuri Kayama, Midnight. He openly sneered in disgust, turning his nose up, no doubt the woman was filthy, as her high-paid and lower-class whores she governs. Many times, his clients and sponsors wanted to meet in one of her pleasure houses, talk, drink their fill, and then go fuck their desired hole for the night. They would offer to pay for his drink or choice of pleasure, but he would refuse.
He didn't care if the men or women were checked every month by the best doctors or nurse in the city, Recovery Girl or not, he wasn't going to touch them with a ten foot pole.
He didn't care if the eight bragged or fought about who gave the best head, had the best pair of tits, ass or pussy in each of that Harlot's establishments. He wasn't going to set foot in any of those back rooms any further than he had to, or participate in the weekly orgies, even if Hari or Pops paid for it, or gave their recommendations for a partner.
No. There was only one woman Kai wanted, but could never have. Despite his lands, titles, and wealth, he was still considered a lesser born to be with her. The only stunning creature whose beauty, wit, and charm had wormed its way into his heart.
The Queen of this country, Y/n L/n. Otherwise, known as Y/n the Fair. Compared to her nitwit and foolish mother, their previous Queen, you had shown promise. Using your power and influence to make this kingdom prosperous, flourish, and think of your people first.
Truly like an angel in this diseased ridden, rat-infested, dark, unfair, and cruel world. If Kai had to become a villain, forsake his old name, his humanity, his past, to become a demon in order to cure this plague known as quirks, obtain enough power and wealth that his statue wouldn't matter for a change to try and court you.
It was selfish to wish it, I know that. Overhaul blinked as he shook his head and inwardly sighed. He was pulled back to the present as he heard Nezu's voice grind in his ears.
"With Midnight forfeiting, Overhaul," That sneaky little rodent chuckled darkly. "Or should I say Ex-Yakuza Boss. You now belong to our mysterious stranger." He snickered, grinning wide and unhinged. "Come up and claim your prize, my dear."
Overhaul's golden hues narrowed. Nezu knew something he wasn't sharing. It was pissing him off.
"If you are returned back to me, Chisaki," Nezu met his burning and intense gaze with his own. "I fear Midnight will become your new Mistress." He let his words hang in the air and added, sounding smug. "So be a good little slave for your First Mistress, won't you?"
That comment and detail made Overhaul's jaw clench and grind hard. "Watch it, vermin. Those words may come back to bite you someday, pest." He growled, taking a deep breath through his nose to calm down his temper.
"Prove me wrong, Chisaki, and I will owe you money." Nezu sassed back, turning his gaze towards the Mysterious Woman and her cloaked companion. "Seems the old gods and the new have favored you this night, old friend."
Overhaul remained silent, watching as one of the black cloaked figures approached.
👑👑👑
You did it!
A high-class caged bird with clipped and broken wings. Your birdy. Your plaything. Yours to use for your own pleasure. Yes, if he won't submit. You will have to bend him and whisper tempting words until he bows down.
Whether he liked it or not. Your word was law. He was your property, and you owned him now; his life was yours, and yours alone.
"Eraser," You chirped happily. "Escort him to the castle, make sure he's fully bathed, fed, fully dressed, and waiting for me in my chambers tonight." You had to quickly remask your features and tone as not to overexcite yourself. "Have Giran dig into what happened to the rest of Overhaul's men and the Shie Hassaikai's leader." You lower your tone into a whisper, "Our birdy will want to know." You slipped the royal seal and plenty of gold into his hand, enough to feed a whole nation for months.
Eraser nodded and bowed his head. "As you wish, your majesty." Pocketing the items and heading towards the stage.
You were watching Overhaul from the shadows for a long time. You disapproved of him trying to use a little girl to fuel his goal of curing people of this plague known as quirks. You knew all too well, witnessing firsthand how deadly and uncontrollable a person's quirk could become if the wrong person grew too greedy, too prideful, too arrogant, and dared to challenge their Queen.
It's what cost your mother her life.
Call yourself hypocritical, you didn't care. Even after everything he's done, you sympathized with his cause and silently supported him from your throne on high, and now, you would snatch your raven in his hour of need.
You knew if that money grubbing leech at the brothel had her way, she'd sell the young man's body every night like a male prostitute, work him day and night, tirelessly until he's broken; diseased and could no longer work, being forced out onto the streets, begging for scarps until he either committed suicide or died in some rat infested back alley.
You had seen too many woman and men being treated as such time and time again. You'd be damned if you let your birdman suffer any longer. True, your reasoning wasn't anything noble or any better, but at least, you know he would be safer with you than that old hag.
You sighed, watching as Eraser talked with the slave trader, whose eyes widened, filling with greed as he stared at the seal and leather pouch heavily pilled with gold. Your smile grew into a smug smirk, you were victorious, and if anything dared tried to steal him from you or outbid you, well, you will just have to send in Hawks.
Twirling on your heels, waving at Nezu as you went ahead of Eraserhead, lowering your hood on your cloak, and making your way back towards the palace. I have to bathe and look presentable for him, don't I? You paused as you entered the dark mouth of the alleyway, gaze following your prized birdman was being hauled off the stage, his displeasure, anger, and defiance as he was dragged by two Nomu's Nezu bought from The League. See you soon, Kai, my pretty bird. You smile and giggle to yourself, strolling further and further away, knowing you two will reunite soon enough.
🐦⬛🐦⬛🐦⬛
The young ex-yakuza was both intrigued and confused as to why he was being dragged towards the Queen's Castle?
He expected to be thrown into servitude as some lowly servant or chore boy, but instead Eraser dragged him towards a lavished, grand bathroom. The walls were white, the floor underneath his bare feet was carved out of limestone and marble, it shined in the candlelight; the room smelled clean with lavished soaps and scented oils, it calmed down his nerves to an extent, but still kept his guard up as Kai turned to meet the man's tired charcoals. "Why bring me such lavished liberties and luxuries?" Narrowing his eyes, growing more suspicious and perplexed. What was he planning? There's no way Eraserhead saved him from the goodness of his heart.
Eraser sighed, rubbing his eyes, and clicked his tongue. "I see that paranoia wasn't for show, Chisaki." Lowering his hand, making a twirling motion with his finger. "Now, turn around so I can get that caged muzzle and leather n' chains off of you, and you can bath before eating dinner."
Kai's hand twitched behind his back, then clenched as his jaw did. Doing as he's told, as he's reminded that with the quirk-restraining collar around his neck, he's quirkless.
Eraser moved slowly towards Chisaki, studying him for any sign of running or attacking him. "Before you get any ideas on fighting me and escaping, I don't have the key." He explains, proceeding to unbuckle the straps and chains. "Your new Mistress has the only key to your collar." He gave Hawks the key, flew back ahead of them, and gave it to you. "Fight and disobey her, and I'll make sure your life will be a living hell compared to what Midnight or Nezu would have done to you, understand?"
"Yes." Kai huffed, taking a deep breath to calm himself as he inwardly shuddered to remain still, phantom itches crawling against his skin.
Silence filled the room apart from the rattling of the chains and leather as the pair of stoic and rational men remained silent.
"There, I'll be outside." Eraser needs back, holding Chisaki's bonds in his hand. "The maids already placed clothes and everything you need in the basket by the bathtub." He turned and began walking towards the bathroom door, pauses at the threshold, peaking over his shoulder. "Dinner will be in an hour. Don't make her wait, Chisaki. Our Mistress is many things, forgiving, generous, but unforgiving to anyone who crosses her."
Kai's body tensed. "I may be an ex-yakuza. I'm not a complete mongrel, Erasure." He bit out calmly, a hint of ice in tone. "I still honor some of my house's traditions, mannerisms, and chivalry, even if Pops and I disagreed and clashed often."
Eraser knew it was childish, but he couldn't help it. He still couldn't believe that you, his Mistress, still wanted this Villain, this Monster of a man. Kai Chisaki should be grateful for your generosity, your mercy. He should be begging, kneeling at your feet like the worthless dog that he is.
Something in him snapped, "If you had kept your ungodly experiments and quirk away from that child, a young girl," He pressed, knowing the son of a bitch didn't regret his actions one bit. "Your own sire's granddaughter, then you wouldn't be here, Chisaki."
Eri? How had they known? Then again, he imagined word of his experiments, his groups disbanding, his capture, and what The League had done to him had spread to even The Castle's staff, even you, The Queen. No doubt from her Master of Whispers, Giran. Kai inwardly scoffed.
Kai glanced over his shoulder. "Everyone should be grateful for my efforts in formulating a cure to return humanity back to normalcy before quirks became a plague, a disease, spreading and infecting the world." He hissed, tearing off his loincloth and storming towards the large indoor bath. "Quirks will continue to grow powerful with each new generation." He explained, stopped at the edge of the bath, the scent of lemons and roses hitting his nose and filling his lungs. Who knew his favorite scents?
Kai shook his head as he continued, "I'm the only one willing to get my hands dirty. To do what needed to be done, unlike those old, cowardly, senile fools."
Eraser grit his teeth, muttering underneath his breath. "Can't believe she's chosen a monster like you." Without another word, he closed the door.
Kai huffed, stepping into the water as the warmth soaked into his aching, dirty, and tired body. He closed his eyes and sighed in content. Reopening his eyes and began bathing himself, scrubbing his body and hair clean, washing the smell of that big white rat and his workers' filthy touches and those Chimeras or Nomu's The League created. Those creations both fascinated him and gave him the creeps, knowing The Legendary Demon Lord and his mad Doctor were creating them deep in the heart of The Underworld.
Kai was too busy growing his influence, trying to distribute his cure, raise more funding, and juggling his responsibilities as his adoptive father's heir to feed his curiosity on The Nomus'. When those UA Hero Guild members busted down his door!
Lemillion and Deku destroyed the last two years of his research and resources. What he hadn't ordered stashed away was burned during the explosion in his laboratory, not to mention when Dabi set his castle and everything ablaze during his capture.
Kai's scar on the side of his forehead twitched and throbbed, his anger and frustration seething as his grip tightened on the side of the marble and hand-carved tub. The marble digging into his hand before he let go with a frustrated growl, held his breath to dunk himself underneath the water, resurfacing and standing. Thousands of water droplets fell down his body as he reached for a towel soft, fluffy purple towel to pat himself dry as he exited the bath.
Feeling refreshed, clean, and somewhat calmer, Kai stalked slowly towards the basket Eraser mentioned. He blinked, eyes widened in surprise as he found a pair of his favorite black linen shirts, breeches, leather boots, face masks, and white gloves. Now, he felt a hint of nerves crawling and twisting against his belly.
His heart thudded hard in his chest. It... it couldn't have been you, could it? Who had saved him? He told himself not to get too excited. What would you want with him? A criminal. Well, Ex-Criminal.
He had nothing to offer you. No lands, no money, no gifts, only himself. Kai swallowed thickly as his mouth grew dry; he'd heard the whispers and rumors of your sexual and carnal appetite in your chambers. Releasing a shaky breath as he shivered, his cheeks heating before he inhaled a deep breath, held it, and exhaled, straightening his shoulders.
If the old gods and new were truly merciful, as Nezu whispered into his ear about being bought and sold into your service, Kai needed to hold his head high. Nothing has changed.
His life's debt has been exchanged from Pop's to yours.
Yes, you were closer within his reach now, but you were royalty, a member of the nobility, one of the Gods most precious gifts to have been born into this cursed and cruel hearted world.
Kai dried himself, dressed, used the lotions, cologne, hair, and tooth brush he'd been given, waiting for him on the bathroom counter.
His adoptive father's words rang in his head, A debt must always be repaid, Kai.
He hooked the cloth mask over his face as he frowned. He'll never see the old man again. That thought made his chest ache as his gloved hand gripped the counter. "Pops." He whispered his name, peaking at himself in the mirror. Same face, same sharp golden eyes, same image he saw everyday.
A knock on the door made his gaze flicker towards the door's mirror image as Erasers voice called. "Chisaki, it's time."
Kai sighed and replied, raising his voice. "Yes."
"Good," he huffed, opening the bathroom door. "She's waiting."
Rechecking his appearance one last time, the ex-yakuza twirled on his boot heels and headed towards Eraser as he led the way. Maids waiting outside, sneaking glances at him, whispering, gossiping, and giggling, Kai paid them no mind. He was used to people staring at him.
Eraser clicked his tongue. "Quiet gawking and get back to work, ladies." He glared at the woman who nodded their head hurriedly, apologized, and exited the bathroom.
Kai felt his lips curl upward underneath his mask in amusement. And they called me a tight ass in The Shie Hassaikai.
A blonde haired, red winged man approached in the opposite direction, hands shoved into his pockets and grinning from ear to ear, then widened as he came closer towards Eraser and Kai.
"Well, well," The man's playful, honey'd orbs studied the ex yakuza from head to toe, whistling. "Looks like the one-winged caged bird cleans up nicely."
Hawks. The Queen's assassin and last line of defense should her other loyal guards and soldiers fall.
Whispers say he's Icurus reborn, or the child from The Greek God, Eros, a Demi God.
Kai narrows his eyes at Hawks.
The black haired head guard stopped, resulting in Kai stopping a few paces behind him. "Why are you still out this late Hawks?" Eraser asked.
Hawks' gaze shifted from Kai's to Erasers. "Nothin' much, just returning from runnin' an errand for our beloved Queen." He didn't miss how the Ex-Criminals' hands twitched, or his gaze turned more frosty and chilling.
Eraser waved him away, proceeding forward. "Yes, yes, good night, Hawks."
Hawks could help it. Couldn't keep his mouth shut as the once proud and arrogant, untouchable and powerful Overhaul passed him. "Be sure to be a good littl' pet for our Lady, ya hear Overhaul." He snickered, saying his Villain name as if it were a joke.
Kai tensed, muscles straining against his shirt, hands white knuckled at his sides, and his jaw clenched. Ignore him. Ignore him. He isn't worth it. He kept repeating to himself as he followed behind Eraser. That red-feathered chicken isn't worth it.
Hawks chuckled, raising his hands, interlocking his fingers behind his head, chirping and yapping, "Whoops. Did I strike a nerve, little birdy? Sorry. Sorry." His fake apologetic smile turned smug. "Hundreds of men would be crawling on their hands and knees naked to be where you are." He kept going. "Make 'er happy littl' raven."
Eraser twirled on his heels, grabbed his binding cloth as his quirk activated, charcoal eyes flickering blood red, and his long hair rising. "That's enough, Hawks! Get the fuck back to your post and watch your disrespectful mouth before I scrub your foul mouth with soap myself."
Kai's ears were practically fuming in anger. He didn't give a flying fuck what the stalking, strutting, diseased red-winged rat had to say about him, but disrespecting their Queen right in front of him? He won't stand for it.
It wasn't the first time Kai had beaten the ever-loving daylight out of some leering, perverted son of a bitch who dared make lewd and unsavory comments about you. He's heard worse in The Underground, Brothels, or petty, lowlife scumbags' mouths.
He was close to snapping had Eraser not stepped in. He supposed that earned him some respect in his book towards the older man.
"I'm just wishing the newbie some luck." Hawks shrugged, waved, and walked away.
Kai calmed down as Hawks grew further and further away. Good riddance. He inwardly snorted and huffed.
Eraser stopped in front of the dining hall, knocking. "Chisaki has arrived, my Lady."
"Thank you, Eraser." Your voice answered behind the grand door. "Enter."
Kai felt his heartbeat quicken and thunder in his ears. He felt the tips of his ears grow red before he inwardly shook himself and reschooled his features, watching Eraser open the door to a brightly lit dining room.
--- End of Part 1 -----
Part 2: The Queen's One Winged Bird
Part 3: Coming Soon!
Here's the full fanart by @spectra-phantasma
Seriously, full credit goes to them! Again, thank you so much for the Overhaul/Kai Chisaki love! I love this fanart sooo much! Go check it out! Worth it! 100%! Lookie, lookie!
As always, nice commenters from the WIP are tagged! Thank you so much!
@hideandgopeep @isabeauwolf @staitc-rj @angelblueflame @maleerie
Hi! Could you write something about a yan!best friend but this time he's the one who's the virgin instead of reader and reader is the one who is teasing him etc. Like your other yanbsf fic but the roles are flipped. Maybe he's flirty and teasing so reader assumed he got around but he's actually only that way around them and a huge dick to everyone else. And as they're having sex, he's rough because he hates that reader slept with other people before. Thinking of it now, this prompt also fits yan!bf because of the insecurity but I'll leave it to you. Thanks! Your writing always helps me get though a tough week :)
A/N: this prompt got me too interested for me to pass it up; I'm so glad my writing is helpful to you anon, and i hope this was what you were looking for:)
“Don’t start.” Your best friend threatens, giving you a “i'm done with your shit” glare.
His seemingly upset gaze passed back and forth from your eyes, to your hand. But despite his disagreeable tone, his hands stay limp at his sides, and his legs are still open at a leisurely position.
“Why? I thought you were so confident in your… skills.” You scoff at the end of your sentence, watching your friend writhe uncomfortably as your hand caresses him. “Don’t tell me you’ve been lying this whole time….?”
You grin at seeing him frown, seeing his unhappy glare that really seems to hold a hidden bit of excitement, especially as you feel something begin to grow more shapely within your palm.
“I haven’t lied about anything!” He blurts out suddenly, “I just-- I didn’t, say that I’ve actually.. DONE anything…”
“Don’t tell me--” You begin to cackle, unable to hold back your laughter as you watch his face morph into an expression of sheer embarrassment.
“Don’t laugh at me!” He shouts, grabbing the hand that thats been touching him so intimately.
“Why not, you’re a virgin who’s lied about sleeping with more than half of everyone we know!” You snicker, laughing into your opposite palm while your other has ceased its sensual movements.
Forcing your hand back down, your best friend jerks you close.
“If I’m really just some loser, why don’t you see how well your so-called “experience” works on me, huh? Or are you too much of a wuss to try,” He watches you try to hold back another laugh, angrily frowning. “Maybe you’re not as good as you think; not as good compared to a virgin, anyway.”
“Oh, is that a challenge?” You ask grinning, reading his nervousness as he licks his lips in anticipation.
“Its.. its whatever you want to take it as.” He says stubbornly, looking away. “And I haven’t lied about anything, I just… stretched the extent of things I may have done… with some people….”
You try to hold back another laugh, resuming your experimental touches on the front of his jeans. You’ve noticed how increasingly hard he’s gotten since you started, how tight his pants have gotten around his thickness; though its not like it took very much to get him excited, having only ever received the touch of his own hand.
Your best friend licked his lips again, letting out a huffed breath through his nostrils as you cupped his crotch.
“So a liar and a virgin… Turns out you’ve been hiding quite a few things from me.” You cut him off before he tries to refute you again. “But that doesn’t really matter now, does it? Because you won’t be either, once we’re finished.
“But I-I,” He stutters, watching you look him up and down, seeing how his hips have begun to lift forward in an attempt to meet your hand.
“You’ve bragged about so little… I’m sure we can manage to bring some truth to your fabrications.”
You get close, watching his desperate lips part in an attempt to call in yours. You lean in just close enough to keep him trying to close the gap, creating a bit of distance each time. You almost catch him in a kiss but lean upward, brushing your nose against his as he pants in frustration.
“Stop-- teasing me..” He grunts, trying to keep his mouth shut. You pull away from his grinding hips, tip-toeing your fingers up to his pants buttons. You try to open them slowly, unzipping his pants zipper as he watches you. But your best friend doesn’t have the patience that you hoped. He unbuttons himself before you can, the bulge in his boxers coming to rise and push against his pants.
“So needy for being an untouched virgin, are we? I thought you were more patient than that.”
He looks away in embarassment, hiding behind his forearm. Your hand slides from his soft, warm tummy to the thickness in his boxers. The moment you grab it, he lets out a guttural moan, pushing his lips in his arm to avoid from getting too loud.
You reach for his jaw with your free hand, pulling him away from his hiding spot. He looks at you with a parted, heaving mouth, watching as if you had the key to everything he could ever want. You give him a sweet kiss, one that he easily accepts, pressing up against your mouth with an insatiable fervor, gently bringing his hand down to push yours under his boxers.
You pull away his hand from yours,pushing it against the backside of the couch with your free hand.
“Rule one you have to learn, don’t touch the master while they’re working.” You grin, giving a slow pump to his delicate, untouched cock.
But instead of the submissive, lust-hazed look you were expecting, your bestfriend hardens his gaze. Pulling you by your hips, he forces you from your knees on the couch to his lap, letting them straddle him and keeping your hand down his pants.
“Its not fair,” He murmurs, gripping the fabric around your thighs. “T’s not fair someone else got you fuck you first…”
He ruts up against your clothed crotch, allowing your hand to slide against his member. His thrusts into your hand grow harder, rougher as he watches you through hazy eyes and fallen hair strands.
“You're as desperate as any virgin…” You smirk, watching him lean his head back after you brush your thumb against his tip. “But you’re as stubborn as a mule.”
That action and your confident words only seems to spur him on, his heavy thrusts growing violent as his hand moves to grip the back of your shirt, the other coming up to meet your crotch.
“I only learn from the best.” He says, gritting his teeth and trying his best to unbutton your shorts. “Now, I thought you said you’d teach me everything that I “fabricated”?”
You lift an eyebrow, hearing him let out another groaning huff, getting close to his release.
You lean in to satisfy his need to kiss you again, watching as bites his lip at a thought.
“Besides, I need to fuck you hard enough that you forget about those before me.”
An intruder was on one of the Shie Hassaikai properties.
The brunette yakuza sat at his desk, watching one of the surveillance videos a hacker managed to hastily bring back and send to him through an alt account he'd created years ago out of paranoia and to cover his digital tracks. It wasn't the bloody scene or massacre that bothered him; he had plenty of men and pawns at his disposal. It was the creature attacking that drew the plague-masked wearing Doctor's attention and interest.
The silhouette of a young woman, or what he could make out from the images moving as the backup camera and night vision played on the computer screen.
He reached out and paused the video just as she looked right at the camera, her face framed beautifully and blending into the darkness around her. He stabbed a gloved finger at her graceful profile. "There she is." He muttered to himself out loud, then flickering his sharp, small golden hues to the man standing beside him. "Bring her to me." It was an order.
The brunette's right-hand man, a man wearing a white raincoat, hood drawn, and wearing a full stream punk plague mask, shifted his gaze from the computer screen to his boss and long-time friend. It had been a long time since Chronostathis had seen Overhaul interested in anything other than work or their current secret project.
He knew once he'd had that look. In his eyes, there was no stopping him if he thought it would help him accomplish his lifetime goal and wish. "Yes, sir Overhaul."
Rappa's voice broke through the heavy, thick silence that had fallen over the meeting room. "Is she going to become a brawler or the boss's main squeeze?"
"Rappa that isn't for us to decide," Tengai replied, sighing.
Overhaul's expression hardened. His lips curled into a sneer. "Enough. You two follow Chrono as backup in case she decides to run." He inwardly conveyed how he found that idea ridiculous and utter trash. He turned away, dismissing the rest of the conversation altogether. He didn't have time for romance or pursuing a new companion. Overhaul was a busy man. He didn't have the luxury of giving in to such frivolous, useless emotions and carnal pleasures.
Leaning back, he rewinds the footage. Keeping his attention on how you disappeared and reappeared with ease, each graceful moment held his attention. Your sharp canines, poking past your plump lips. Small yet fast. Inhumanly fast. Strong too as you ripped limbs, dodged bullets, and laughed mockingly over the fearful, freshly dead or bleeding out lumps of men littering your feet.
🦇🦇🦇
You’ve never met him.
Never even seen him.
But you’ve heard the whispers. The rumors. The stories about him being crueler and crazier than his adoptive father.
Maybe even worse.
They say his commanding presence wraps around your throat and squeezes your heart whenever he enters a room. A man with ice in his veins and an inhuman, corrupted heart beating within his chest, and hiding his true intentions with false, calm politeness.
Kai Chisaki, Overhaul.
Ice-cold, merciless, ruthless, and dominating.
He expects absolute obedience from his subordinates.
The man who wanted to become the new All For One.
Become the next Villain King and Hades of the Underworld.
This unfamiliar situation made you feel eager and dare you say, a sense of excitement.
It had been a long time since you've been caught so easily by humans.
Two of Overhaul's precepts were strong power houses. The one who was itching to brawl and challenging you to the death had put up a good fight, you'll give him that. It was the larger one who'd given you trouble. You felt your energy draining out of you, but you did manage to take him down before you passed out. Last thing you remember was a pair of cold, curious and calculating golden eyes, and you knew he was powerful.
The brunette, plague mask wearing man stared down at you. "There you are." His presence was dark. Commanding. Dominating. Ruthless. "Pardon the disturbance in your late-night meal, but I'm afraid we need to have a little chat." He explained as your eyes grew heavy, darkness clouding your vision. "Apologies." He gave the hand signal for his men to pick you up and escort you to the black car waiting around back. "I'm sure you'll understand."
Everything blackened after that.
Here you were tied to a hard, uncomfortable metal chair. A black bag covering over your head, metal cuffs burning and searing into your skin. Damn, that hurts. You grit your teeth, fangs sharp and bared as you wait. Waited for someone to kill you. Wondering if Overhaul himself would do it or leave it to one of his precepts or underlings. Great first month here and I've already pissed off the Japanese Mafia. You really wanted to smack yourself, if you could.
The room reeked of chemicals and antiseptic, which didn't bod well. Those chemicals meant hospitals. Tests. Doctors and lab coats. Dissection. Freedom stolen and pain. You kept away from human hospitals with a passion. Not sense that night. The night you died and woke up reborn. The night your mother died.
You may have only saw him once, but you caught his scent. A combination of citrus, hints of floral, black coffee and antiseptic.
You quickly discovered that you weren't alone.
Then you felt his presence.
A pair of steady footsteps descending a set of stairs and leading towards you.
He wasn't alone.
One, two, no, eight other males were trailing behind him.
One reeked of alcohol, another you recognized as the one who punished you hard.
The big brawler and combat fighter. "Hey Overhole!" The MMA fighter shouted beneath his mask, excitement coloring his voice. "Do you think me and her can have a rematch?"
You rolled your eyes beneath your blindfold. Of course, the adrenaline junky monkey wanted to play.
"No, Rappa." A male voice answered, calm, flat and final.
The back is ripped off your head by the white raincoat, steampunk looking birdman.
Overhaul's cold, dark, calculating golden iris lowered, fully assessing you. "You are the one who's been stirring up mischief and bloodshed within one of our neighboring territories?" This monstrous woman who killed members of his gang, who were heavily armed, seasoned and highly trained fighters who were considered his own seniors. The Shie Hassaikai wasn't lacking manpower, per say. He had plenty of young, blooded newbies and members who were a few years or a decade enrolled among them. Enough to operate and distract an entire police unit of people should they invade and descend the compound. His gaze rose upward to meet your eyes unfocused, hazy gaze again. "Are you sane or drugged up beyond focus and recognition?" He said after a brief pause, tilting his head. His thin brows furrowed, a slight evident in disgust and disappointment rolling off him in waves.
"I'm fine." You reply, inwardly trying to shift within your seat. Man, this is even more of a clusterfuck than I wanted to be in right now.
His eyes trap yours, and his magnetism touches your skin, caressing like hot honey and liquid fire, singing in your veins.
His eyes. A dark warm amber or gold, pupils were small, but bright and intense. A cruel twist of a smile broke out on his lips beneath his plague mask. "I know exactly how I would have retaliated."
You didn't spook easily, aside from heights.
Humans, those affiliated with the mafia or yakuza could be quite competitive and vicious. Territorial. They might not run Japan's underworld anymore but didn't mean you could be to wreck less. "It's unwise to test my patience." The wolf eyed, brunette mob boss said, finally drawing your attention back to him.
It was a reflex. It was way past your bedtime and you getting hangry on top of being sleepy. "Then you shouldn't anger me." Your voice was steady as you looked up at him.
Many of the younger newbies were stunned by your brash and bold tongue. Daring to challenge Overhaul's patience and temper. Were you an idiot? Did you want a death wish? If you knew what the boss could do, surely you wouldn't provoke him and try to qurry his favor?
"I've heard of your rumored powers." He narrowed his eyes. "It's impossible for a quirk user to have more than one or two quirks." He tilted his head, sizing you up. After what felt like minutes he started talking again. "Then again, you aren't human, are you?"
You did not like how his eyes brightened. Curiosity and excitement shining as his hard stare made it feel as if he's gazing at you through a microscope. A doctor or surgeon's procession. Oh fuck, I've bumble fucked myself into the lion's den or a mad scientist. His white gloves, sterile gloves and plague mask should have given him again, but no, oh no, you had to be distracted by his beautifully, cold eyes. Then again, who the hell walks in with that bulky green ass bombers jacket and purple feathers?
Instead of choosing to dissect you now. Overhaul grew even more curious, ordering you to be sent to a simple locked interrogation room with a handful of guards.
Your face scrunched. Is this fucker serious? You thought, bored and slightly offended. He put you on the baby level? Oh, this man is seriously pissing me off. You close your eyes, shifting into mist, and disappear into the cracks through the door and broken the necks of the distracted guards, well, all accept one. Wishy-washy toucan wearing assed nut job.
"Where's Overhaul's main office?" You made the remaining living guard met your gaze, lulling him into a trance. "Where's the code key or lock to the door?"
"Take three lefts, two rights and continue down the hall until you find the bosses office; if the light outside the door is on... he's there." The man babbled, flatly.
You searched his mind for the toucan's show of his power. "Hmm, his quirk is touch based?" You blink and mutter to the man. "Rest." He's out like a light, falling to the ground. "Ironic given he's a germaphobe." You ramble to yourself, shrugging.
You quickly find the weapons room, which held your guns and sword, then continued on your merry way.
You stalked him soundlessly, a primed, vicious predator in the presents of another. You could sense it. A fellow killer in the form of a man. A dangerous one. Perhaps, he could give you a challenge?
You slip into mist, creeped underneath the cracks in the door. Watching him working and appearing to be lost in his paperwork. He's a workaholic, the poor bastard.
You glide closer to him. Noticing his plague mask was missing and laying on the side of his desk, leaving him in a common black duster mask. Shame, I can't see him unmasked. You shake your heard. Stop it! Just grab his cardkey and get the hell out of here! You uncloaked yourself, appearing in front of him. The vampiress swung her sword, a silent swing, stopping an inch above his neck. He didn't move. He'd only stared into her eyes.
"It's deadly to stop your attack halfheartedly." He advised, tilting his head. "Why give your enemy a very dangerous opening?" He didn't blink, not at first. He stood, rising to his full height, towering. His black shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his tie gone, a hint of his hard chest and sculped muscles and forearms, which his thick green bombers jacket had hidden.
Air-conditioned wind tugged at the tail end of his shirt and stirred his thick, short chestnut hair. HIs gaze focused on the tip of your sword, then shifted his attention to study your face, his eyes lingering. His blunt appreciation unsettling yet stirring something within your gut.
Overhaul hadn't seen that many sword wielders these days. An old and ancient tradition, given modern technology and times. The light rippling of the blade displayed a sharpness that could cut through bone, muscles and flesh with little effort. Your hold on the sword was firm yet light, tight enough to become an extension of your arm.
"You are the rumored Bloody Valkyrie?" He walked around his desk, his hands moving to clasp behind his back. Hardback books, files and notes forgotten.
He wasn't going to raise a hand in defense? You thought.
That wasn't what you'd heard about him around the black market.
He strode closer to you and lowered his voice, narrowing his eyes. "Who do you align yourself with?" His look is deadpan, his tone is annoyed and cold, but behind those breathtaking eyes, you see a fire roaring.
"I don't see why that's any of your business." You reply, blinking and frowning slightly.
He froze. Those amber eyes shot to you. The flicker of rage in them went unnoticed. "What did you say?"
“Did I stutter?” You tilt your head, staring at him like he was the one with the problem here and you were the one offended.
Both of you stood mere inches apart from each other, his shoulders tense "I asked you a question." He stepper closer, overcrowding your space. "I expect an answer."
“Disrespect me again and you won’t get an answer.” You lower your blade arm, cross your arms over your chest, tilting your head high and matching his cold, icy glare.
People were watching the camera set up in their bosses' office from the compound breakroom on the giant wall mounted television. Young and senior members were frozen, half curious, terrified, and staring at you as if you had some kind of death wish or were crazy.
“You have some nerve.” Overhaul scoffed, huffing through his black mask.
You ran my fingertips over your throat. His eyes tracked the movement, and that snarl returned. He knew what I was saying. “I apologized already. It’s your turn.”
His eyes flared. "You did not." An eerie glow shone from his eyes.
"Oh, my mistake." You turn your hand and flip him off. "I'm sorry for accidentally stumbling into one of your drug raids Mister Scary Toucan Mob Boss." You deadpan. "Is that better? Can I leave now?"
"You can't possibly believe me to accept that half assed, rude and crude apology? Overhaul's eyes narrow in confusion. "And expect me to let you off the hook after murdering my men and trespassed onto our turff on accident?"
"Maybe?" You shrug. "I've done worse on a bad Friday night."
Overhaul pressed his fingers to his aching forehead, trying to calm his breathing and not blindly overhaul you into a puddle of blood splatter on his freshly cleaned carpeted floor. "Why were you there?"
"I thought it was a warehouse full of cute plushies." You muttered sheepishly, covering your heated cheeks. "Didn't help the man I drank from had been high as a kite, taking pot and snow."
Overhaul turned his attention back to you, clearly disgusted. "You really drink people's blood like a savage? That's disgusting."
"Hey, I don't want to hear you judging me on my diet, fruit loop." You point a finger in his direction. "When you are afraid to touch another human being without having a panic attack."
------ End of part 1 ------
Finally, Kai's x mc's vampire romance begins! Classic misunderstands and enemies to lovers trope ;)
(Warning - smut in this chapter 🔥😏 Enjoy my lovelies!)
There he is.
Kai Chisaki, Overhaul.
No, your prized bird. Your obsession. If you were honest with yourself, you would wage war for this man should anyone dare try to take him away from you.
Your heartbeat quickens hard in your ribcage. He's more handsome and breathtaking in person, so close and yet so far away. His cold, calculating and merciless bright liquid golden gaze staring back at you, made your body tingle and shiver in excitement, it was euphoric and desire sing in your veins.
Calm down, girl. Don't want to spook him. You mentally chastised yourself, keeping your face neutral as you greeted him with a smile, filled with genuine happiness, instead of your practiced perfect fake smiles. "Good evening, Kai Chisaki." You stood, allowing him to fully see you in one of your favorite dresses and one of his favorite colors, purple and green. "Please join me for dinner after the last two rough days you've had. I'm sure that you are no doubt hungry."
The alburn haired man was hesitant before squaring his shoulders, masked chin held high, stalking into the dining room as if he owned it, as if your roles were reversed, he was the King of the Castle and you were the slave just bought and sold to him. His movements were graceful, confident and elegant as he stood in front of the tableware waiting for him at the end of the table as a servant pulled out his chair.
What shouldn't have surprised you was how Kai's rigid stance lowered into a bow, showing respect. "Your majesty, it is I who is honored to be graced with your presents." He raised his head, drinking in your choice of gown as you curtsied back. "I see you must know plenty about me, if you are wearing my favorite colors." Thin brow raising, his heart swelled and raced seeing you in his favorite colors and color scheme for his house, it suited you.
The floor length purple satin gown dyed green lace trimming along your neck, waist, ends of your sleeves, trailing from your waist to the front and fanning out onto the train along the back. From what he could make out inside your sleeves was green as well as he took in the rest of your appearance; emeralds and amethyst necklace stringed around your neck with your emblem and matching rings sat on the middle finger of your right hand.
You wore light makeup that enhanced your natural beauty apart from the matching eye shadow that made your eyes pop and appear to glow underneath the candlelight. The same jewels were woven into the long braid of your hair as the rest fell free and stopped at your waist.
Kai was mesmerized, entranced. A bewitching angel of the night, he thought.
"I hope I haven't embarrassed myself and came overdressed." You joked lights, plump lips curling as you sat down in your seat.
"Not at all," Kai replied in earnest, sitting as well as one of the wine bearers served him wine in a golden goblet. "It is I, who am undressed I'm afraid."
"Nonsense," You fired back, chuckling lightly. "I'd rather you become comfortable instead of being forced to wear anything uncomfortable and suffer." You waited for your poison tester to sip from his silver sample goblet before allowing you to drink your own.
Kai gaze focused on your food tester, watching for any signs of food poisoning or an assassination attempt. If anyone dared tried to kill you underneath his watch, quirkless or not, he'd murder them himself. The thought made anger and rage spike and ignite in his blood, noticing nothing was amiss, he visibility relax. He took off his face mask and placed it into his pocket, unfolded his napkin and placed it in his lap before reaching a gloved hand for his wine. "I appreciate the kind gesture," he hummed, sniffing the burgundy liquid before bringing it to his lips.
His half hoodie gaze widened as he tasted a familiar wine he often enjoyed a cup of after a long week from his own personal stash in the wine seller. "Seems you even know my favorite wine as well." A hint of a smile graced his lips. "It's unnerving and heartwarming all the effort you've done to welcome me." He tiled his head, resting his gloved palm in his hand. "What could I have possibly done to warrant The Queens generosity and favor? A former criminal." Amusement shining in his eyes, taking another sip.
I owe you, my life. You thought, remembering the day long ago when a street rat helped you when you were a child. You never knew, if that small act of kindness was out of honor, a passing whim or not. Shoving that memory aside into the back of your mind, you lowered your goblet, copying his gesture, and fluttering your lashes at him. "It's a story for another time I'm afraid. Sorry to disappoint you, Chisaki."
He met your gaze, your beautiful and bewitching gems that often plagued his thoughts and his dreams, not that he'd ever admit it. "Never took you as the sort of teasing and sassy type." A hint of a teasing lit in his usual monotone drawl, sounding smooth and sinful as melting chocolate.
"And I knew you had a silver tongue, but never figured you were such a shameless flatterer." It took everything in you not to grow easily flustered, but your body betrayed you and heated up.
That earned you a short chuckle. "Old habits I'm afraid, my apologies. After spending so long talking with clients and possible sponsors it's become second nature."
"Yes, softening and buttering up others with pretty words, bullshitting and hurrying along to the next much bigger idiot, I understand very well." You chuckled this time, watching as your dinner guest nearly choked on his mouthful of wine.
He was embarrassed and flabbergasted as he wiped his face and chin with his napkin.
"What? Was it something I said?" Your innocent smile widened into a smirk. "Being the ruler of this nation I've had my fill of boring small talk of politics, past histories, war campaigns, the weather and flattered those elder men in an ass kisses contests for as long as I've been alive." You snicker, covering your mouth with the back of your manicured hand.
Oh, Pops would have loved you. Kai inwardly thought, chuckling harder in between catching his breath. Unlike the perfect angel I've pictured her to be all this time. Your blunt honesty was refreshing and caught him off guard.
The more you two talked, drank wine and ate the more Kai would grow amused from your unabashed, cheeky and flirtatious banter.
He found he enjoyed your company. After barely eating anything edible since his capture, Kai felt ravenous. Eating nearly anything in his sights both out of hunger and manners as a guest.
He should have known you would soon nearly pounce on him. After finishing his dessert of baked honey'd pears, his gaze watched you rise to your feet, grabbing your goblet and slowly strolling towards him. Kai felt his heartbeat thunder hard in his ears, swallowed his mouthful of wine, his gaze lowered to the tempting and seductive sway of your hips, then rising from his chair and wiping his mouth with his napkin and slipping his cloth mask over his face to hide the deep blush heating and adoring his cheek.
"Oh, my pretty birdy." You reached out, brushing your fingers over the covering on his face, cooing sweetly at him. "I can be a generous Mistress." You purred, an intense twinge of desire staring at him; tilting your head and letting your hand fall, the intrusive temptation to run your smooth hands all over his muscled and smooth chest through his clothes, but you held off, not yet.
Overhaul's face scrunched up in disgust. "You mean as your whore." He spat with venom, staring his nose down at you, eyes harsh and ice cold. On the outside, he was tense and heated, but on the inside, he didn't think you would offer to sleep with him so soon after his arrival. He felt goosebumps prickling across his body as he fought to remain still and not shudder, appear unaffected and offended.
"All I ask is for you to become my male courtesan." You shrug your shoulders, walking backwards to give him space, which he was grateful for. You gracefully sat down atop the dining room table and crossing your legs. "You will be my eyes and ears in court while I am away." You hum, bating your pretty lashes up at him. "I know you are a smart man. You don't become the second in command of the Shie Hassaikai on looks and muscle alone, Overhaul." You purred his villain alias, eyes growing heavy-lidded.
The use of his old villain name made him flatter a tad. "You know my Villain name?" He tilts his head, the scar on his temple reflecting in the light. "My name is known even in your ears." A light twitch of his jaw as a small smirk tugged on his lips.
"Yes, I've been a fan of yours you could say." You nod. "I may not like you using a child to complete your goal, but I still supported you from behind scenes in the shadows." You wink and grin, studying his expression as you let the truth slip past your lips.
Now that made his eyes widened. "You were one of my secret supporters and sponsors?" He asked, raising a thin brow. He tried to keep his tone calm and flat, but the pure shock and curiosity were present.
"Surprise." You clapped your hands together and your smile widened standing to your feet. "Other than that one detail as I've said. I'm your biggest fan." You curtsy as you finish your cup of wine and set it on the table, licking your lips, slow and sensual. "Good night, Chisaki." You whisper, meeting his eyes, noticing a hint of an adorable blush growing and spreading across the tips of his ears.
You stand, straighten your gown and posture, curtsying once more and stroll past him. "Sleep well and remember that my offer still stands." You purr, glancing over your shoulder, eyes heavy lidded, then leaving. "Eraser will show you to your room."
Kai was left tongue tied, watching you go. He didn't move when servants began cleaning and clearing the dirty dishes. When you disappeared around the corner, only then, did he release the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.
Eraser leaned against the doorway, irritation and tiredness clung to the raven haired man. "This way Chisaki."
Kai followed without a word.
👑👑👑
After returning to your room, wine clouding your head and your body warm, tingling as your maids helped you undress, untying and re-brushing your hair and washing you with a small cloth and a silver carrying tub, then redressed for bed.
You stepped towards the window, your pure white nightgown brushing your legs and swaying along your movements. Completely naked underneath it, raising a hand, reaching out to lean and press your hand against the glass; the night chill and coolness of the window caused you to shiver and felt good against your heated skin.
You felt nostalgic.
You wondered, if he remembered the both times he saved you? You could never forget.
Everything was too nosy, too crowded as you blink away big tears with the back of your hands, only for more fat, hot and salty droplets streaming down your face. "Eraser, Shota." You whisper, sobbing harder.
It was dark. It's after curfew and you were lost. Chasing after that cute cat you saw near the market, it was so fluffy and fat as it ran away when you tried to pet it. You honestly didn't know how Eraser made it look so easy! Maybe he was some kind of cat whisperer? Or did he know a secret spell?
You ignored his call of your name as he pushed his way towards you, through the overly crowded streets before closing for the night, then reopening within an hour for the more adult market, late night entertainment and wares. Determination in your mission to pet the cat, Eraser's panicked voice was the last time you heard as you chased deeper and deeper into the back alleyways. You didn't pay attention to where you were going, this way or that, how many lefts or rights you took.
Only when you stopped to rest, hunched over, hands on your knees and gasping for breath did you notice it was too quiet. Raising your head, wiping your messy hair from your sweaty forehead did you realize that you were lost and alone.
The sun had descended past the horizon moments ago, leaving you in pitch black darkness. You were scared of the dark. You started to tremble and shake, bottom lip quivering as you twirled around in the blackness. "Eraser." You whimper, tears stung your eyes.
Blinking them away and started slowly making your way back.
It was no use. Everything looked the same, dark and creepy, scary.
Eventually, you found people. Nobody would help you. Except for him, the boy who saved you.
You stood in front of the mouth of an alleyway when the boy noticed you and heard you whispering, weakly. "Please, help me."
The boy paused.
You swallowed nervously and tried again. "Please, sir. Please, help me."
Tilting his head to the side, eyes narrowed in suspicion as he took in your messy hair, clothes and signs of crying from your red, puffy gems. Turning to face you as his taller frame towered over you, shadow covering the lower half of his face, or was it the cloth mask he wore blending into the pitch blackness.
All except for his eyes.
His bright liquid amber hues sparkled like gold underneath the moonless sky. He appeared to be a noble with his fancy shoes, trousers, shirt and cloak. The intricate detail and unique design woven with care and crafted went unnoticed to you.
"What are you doing out here by yourself?" His gaze is cold, narrowing. "It's late." He continues chastising you harshly. "Little kids like you should already be in bed."
"I'm lost." You whisper, sniffing.
The boy tilted his head. "How?"
You grew heavily embarrassed, pouting your lips. "Chasing a cat."
He deadpans. "Are you serious? Who would ever be that stupid?"
Your frown deepened. "I'm sorry." Your hair falling over your eyes as your hands, clenched tightly into your dress.
He sighed, running a gloved hand through his short alburn hair. Awkwardly shifting on his feet. It wasn't any of his business. He didn't know you. From what Kai could tell you were of noble class or higher, given your fancy yet dirty clothes. He could leave, walk away and pretend he never saw you, however, he had a feeling you would cry and pitch a fit, chase after him and draw attention, which he didn't need. Closing his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose through his cloth mask with his thumb and index finger, clicking his tongue and reopening them to stare down at your innocent and teary eyed, doe-like eyes. "You better make me not regret this." he muttered, "Where do you live, brat?"
A spike of anger and offense surged through you, yet you bit your tongue, even if, your face gave away your emotions.
The boy raised a brow, clearly amused. "Well?"
You took a deep breath, calming yourself down and admitted, "The Queen's Castle."
He gave you a look that said he didn't believe you. "It's not nice to ask for help and then lie."
Your brows furrow. "I'm not." You sassed back.
The boy opened his mouth to speak and argue further when a voice called out his name. "Kai! Where'd you go?" A elder man appeared, his gaze immediately spotted you. "Who's this?"
"She says she's lost Pops." The boy, now known as Kai answered. "Asking for help and wants to go to The Queen's Castle."
The elder man, Pops nodded his head and knelt down to get a better look at you. "What's your name, my dear?" He asks. His hard expression softening and voice more gentle.
You peak around Pops to meeting Kai's gaze, then shift back to Pops.
Pops chuckles, good humorously. "Don't mind, Kai. He's a hardheaded and mean little shit, but deep down he has a kind heart."
The boy grows flustered. "Pops."
You giggle, wiping your eyes as Pops hands you a handkerchief to clean your face and dry your tears.
Eraser's voice calls you. "My Lady! Y/n!"
You perk up, turning your head in the direction of the young teens voice. "Eraser." You smile wide.
Both Pops and Kai's eyes widen as you run past them, calling for your guards name. "Eraser!"
The black haired teen twirls around, jumping off the rooftop and lands directly in front of you, panting, sweaty and disheveled. "Princess Y/n." He rushed towards you and scoops you up into his arms.
Pops quickly recovered, smiling. "I see now. That's why she looked familiar. It's our Princess." He hums, reaching over, placing his hand on the top of Kai's head and forcing him to down in respect as he does the same. "Your Majesty, please forgive my sons foolishness."
Kai grows even more flustered.
Eraser's charcoal gaze glances over at the strangers, narrowing in suspicion. "The Shie Hassaikai."
"Shota, please don't be angry at them." You pull away and quickly explain. "They found me, honest."
Erasers gaze lowers to your own. He knew you were telling the true as he sighed. "Apologies," he muttered, blowing.
Pops and Kai raised their heads. "I'm Ryūji Chisaki." He points at the preteen. "This is my adoptive son, Kai Chisaki." Bowing once more. "I wish we could have met during better circumstances, Princess. Eraser."
"It's okay." You whisper, smiling. "Thank you, Chisaki."
Kai remained quiet. You were telling the truth. He recognizes Eraserhead, your body guild from his nightly patrols, the long black ebony tresses, tired eyes and blinding cloth around his neck. His quirk allowed him to erase quirks for a brief time.
Eraser shifted you into crook of his arm, reaching inside his clothes and pulled out a bag of gold. "Here take this as payment."
"What?" Pops looked taken back. "I couldn't possibly."
You took the bag of gold, hopped down and walked towards Kai, offering it to him with a smile. "Please take it, Chisaki."
Kai stared at the bag of gold in your hand, you, his adoptive father and back to you. He's completely stunned. He's not used to such chivalrous kindness apart from Pops.
"Take it, brat." Pops laughs. "Something tells me our little Princess is as stubborn and thick headed as you are."
Hesitantly and slowly, Kai took the bag. Your fingers brushes against his gloved ones as he muttered shyly, "Thank you, Princess."
"Y/n," you correctly, smiling as the preteens blush deepens. "Thank you again, Kai."
Eraser takes your hand in his own. "Come, your parents are waiting."
"Goodbye!" You waved. Kai Chisaki, you giggle to yourself. I'll never forget you.
Pops and Kai watched you two leave.
"How did she end up here?" Pops asked, stroking his chin in thought, lips curling into a smirk as his adoptive sons face grow heated further.
"She was chasing a cat." Kai murmured, crossing his arms over his chest and glancing away. "Ridiculous."
"Were you going to take her home?" Pops presses, already knowing the answer.
"Maybe." Kai replied.
Pops laughed again, patting him on top of the head. "You would have done a good thing, Kai."
The pair continued about their business.
🐦⬛🐦⬛🐦⬛
That night you seemed to haunt his dreams.
You said you were his biggest fan. Why wouldn't you want to service him? Call him into your bed chambers. Or better yet, why wouldn't you want to sneak into his?
He's had wet dreams before, he's a healthy man after all.
Always thinking about masturbation as a chore as he got himself off, then his thoughts would wander to you. You had addressed him by his last name, the name he'd abandoned when he'd adopted his villain persona, then you purred his alias. It made him curious to hear you call him by his first name as you moaned and writhed underneath him.
It was as if you had casted some secret spell on him.
A phantom figure of your silhouette appeared, you crawl into his bed, straddling his waist and grinding yourself against him while moaning and smiling that coy smile.
Unlike all of the other wet dreams of the past, this one. It felt too good to be real. He can feel the heat of your body, the wetness of your core pressing against the tent in his pajama's. Your hair was undone, Kai shivered, resting a gloveless hand on your hip, thumb lightly caressing as his other traveled higher to grope and knead one of your mouthwatering breasts. He grunted and groaned, hissing in a breath to discover to his delight and surprise you were completely naked underneath your cloak.
His hips thrusted upward against your grinding, his need mounting, patience and control snapping. He rolled you two over with him on top and you flat against your back, yanking down his pajamas to free his raging erection fisting himself as you untied your cloak and baring your complete nakedness before him.
"Kai," you moan, spreading your legs wider and beckon him to you. He cannot resist your sweet siren's song. "I ache and hunger for you, please."
Kai's gaze grew heavy-lidded. Feasting his intense and hungry stare between your thighs as he leans down, resumes grinding his length against your glistening wet sex. His hands fists the sheets, caging you against him, bending his head to capture a perk nipple into his mouth, causing you to moan and arch into his touch.
"Oh, Kai." You cling onto him, moaning and begging in his pierced ear. "Inside, Kai, inside. I need you." You angle your hips and forcing the tip of his cockhead to press against your entrance, causing his hips to still.
Kai smirks. "Do you want my cock, my Queen?"
You nod your head, wiggling in anticipation as you bite your bottom lip. "Please, Kai."
"Say it, my angel." He purrs, trails kisses from your breast to your neck. "You want me to fuck you? Ravage you?" He hums, voice growing low and deep. "Make you into a fallen angel?"
"Yes." You pant, wrapping your legs around his waist and locking your ankles. "Overhaul, please."
He cupped your jaw, staring deep into your eyes. "With pleasure." He pushes his hips forward, past your soaking wet folds, feeding you his length as he grunts, "You're mine, all mine." Pressing himself deeper giving you immense pleasure and his eyes did not move from your face, getting drunk on your expressions of sinful delight and lust as your body adjusted to his invasion. "No one else can have you." His eyes narrowed, hips began to push deeper before pulling back and thrusting completely home, sinking to the hilt in a single hard and unforgiving thrust.
You released a pleasure cry and tightening your hold on him.
Kai used his strength to pull both of your hands off his body and pin them above your head, fingers completely intertwined. "All fucking mine." Pressing his full bodyweight on top of you, your breasts squished against his chest.
Burying his face into the crook of your neck.
He began rutting into your body with an animistic rhythm and more deliberate thrusts. His movements more passionate and rapid, deep growls coming from his chest. "Tell me, Y/n." His fingers tightened in yours, his desire growing. "Who do you belong to?"
"Overhaul." You answered without hesitation or shame.
He raised his head again to admire you. Your hair sprawled against his pillow, your plump lips falling wide as each sinful, shallow breaths and wonton moan slips from your mouth. Your breasts bouncing in time with his hard thrusts.
"Again." He grunts, fucking into you harder.
"Overhaul!" You obey.
Kai forced himself to complete stop while buried deep inside. His head tilts back as he huffs out a shuddering breath. His body begs for you, even if his words don’t.
His body and every ounce of his monstrous, twisted and tainted black soul wanting to serve you and only you.
Intense, lustful golden hues meeting your desperate and misty eyes, he took pity on you. His lips grazed your lips, claiming your mouth, resuming his movements to a more sensual and slower pace. Wanting to savor this feeling, your tight and hot sheath wrapped around his cock, fluttering and squeezing him, demanding everything he had to give. You kissed him back, full of passion and hunger, whining underneath him. "Don't stop, Kai, don't stop."
Such a bratty and demanding tease you are.
A slow chuckle emitted from deep within his throat, his eyes falling half-lidded as his smile grew wider and more playful. His lips brush the outer shell of your ear. "You want me to go faster, my naughty angel?"
“Please,” you uttered quietly.
"As you wish, my love." Kai nips at your neck, rising upright, letting go of your hands to spread your legs wider, hooking your legs into the crook of his arms and pounding into your tight heat with more vigor.
You keen louder, griping onto his chest, nails clawing down his hard muscles as he grunts and shudders.
His eyes darting down to were you two were joined, one, watching in sick, twisted fascination as his cock disappeared and reappeared into your core, the deepest part of your body. Kai heard himself panting, heartbeat drumming loud in his ears as your walls clenched and tightened around him like a vise.
You moaned his name as you climaxed, gushing all over his cock and dripping down onto the bed as he continued pounding you into the mattress through your orgasm.
"God. Y/n, angel," Kai's breath hitch in his throat, his jaw falling slightly slack and eyes glazing over briefly, his own climax coming faster than he anticipated.
He didn't stop.
Couldn't even if he tried, not this time. He didn't, even when his thighs began to ache and burn, he kept going. "My love, I'm-"
Kai's golden eyes snapped open. He's gasping, panting, sweating and disoriented as his hazy gaze meets the ceiling. Blinking rapidly in confusion as the foggy of half awake and asleep, his body felt hot and needy, hands clenching and nearly ripping the sheets as he sat upright. Thin brows furrow as he glanced down at his lap, the sheets and his pajama pants are hot and sticky, stuck to his skin as he grimaced.
Snippets of his dream came back to him. You. You haunted his dreams again.
Kai groaned in frustration, rubbing his eyes with a clenched closed fists as he threw off the sheets, bedding, swinging his legs over the edge and rising to his feet. The ex-criminal stripped off his soiled clothes and bedding, throwing them into the laundry basket in embarrassment, his cheeks and ears red. He muttered curses, huffing and making his way toward the washing station, grabbing the water pitcher, pouring water into the porcelain bowl to wash his hands and face.
Kai released the breath that he was holding and his shoulders relaxed, leaning against the mirror to calm his breathing, pressing the heel of his hand into his aching and throbbing head, trying to lessen the growing tension and embarrassment knots twisted in his belly. The adrenaline slowly fading from his system as he shivered and shuddered, mouth scrunching up into a grimace as he opened his golden eyes. "Ugh, I'm filthy." He shivered as the early morning chill crept into the room, wiping himself down with a clean cloth and the water into the porcelain bowl until he was fully satisfied.
Throwing the dirty cloth into the laundry basket as he stood in the room, fully naked, he didn't care about his nudity, he wasn't ashamed of his body. He took pride in his form, honing his body as well as his mind from sparing with his men or against challengers in the underground fighting death matches in the black market or back home. Kai glanced at himself in the mirror, seeing himself from the waist up, his own reflection scowl at him as he grits his teeth.
All his planning, all his hard work gone.
True, he was now closer to you, his angel. The one woman who had stolen his dark, twisted and monstrous beating heart. His molten golden hues narrow on the quirk restraining collar around his neck, yes, you had bought him. Yes, he should be grateful and honored. And yet, he still hated feeling powerless and quirkless. His knuckles clenched at his sides as he clicked his tongue.
Why did he dream such an intense erotic wet dream of you last night?
Then he remembered your proposal. His face grew flustered again. You wanted him to become your male Courtesan, your consort, your whore.
Kai felt so torn.
He knew it was an honor to be chosen for such a position at your side. If he was lucky, he could become a candidate as your King. What boggled him was why? Why would you choose him? Were you playing with him? Keeping the humiliated, beaten and disgraced one winged bird as your plaything? A pretty and obedient pet to entertain guests?
Clenching his fists again, blunt nails digging into his palms until he sighed and dropped them to run a hand through his sweat covered hair. As much as he yearned for you. Your praise, your touch, your presence, his stubborn and wounded pride wouldn't allow himself to voice it.
The door to his room opened, a maid walked in. She stopped in her tracks, eyes wide and red face, floundering and mouth hanging up. "My apologies! I'm so sorry!" She bowed and turned away. "I-I have your change of clothes and came to inform you that your morning bath is ready, my Lord."
Kai pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, running a hand down his face. "Leave them on the bed and take the laundry with you."
"Yes, Sir!" She did as she was told, placing the folded clothes on top of his bed, grabbed the basket and hurried towards the door, then paused.
Kai glanced over his shoulder, eyes narrowing. "What now?" Annoyance bleeding into his tone.
The maid swallowed nervously without peaking at him. "Her Majesty has requested that you join her for breakfast, lunch and dinner from now onward, sir."
That got his attention. He was grateful the maids back was turned or else she would have seen the noticeable scarlet blush across his maskless face. "Understood." He nodded his head, hardening his tone. "Now get out."
The maid jumped, nodding her head and slamming the door closed between apologies.
Kai found a red robe and slippers, slipping them on along with his new cloth mask, grabbing his clothes and headed towards the bathroom. He came face to face with Hizashi Yamada, otherwise known as Present Mic. Great, just what I need. This loud mouthed and obnoxious feathered bird yapping in my ears first thing in the morning. He's lips formed into a thin line underneath his mask and a thin brow twitched. "What do you want Present Mic?" The ex-yakuza asked in a monotone drawl.
Present Mic pushed himself away from the wall, grinning wide. "Mornin' jailbird! Seems you are an early riser aintcha?"
God, he reminded him of Rappa. The loud mouth, death matched fighting adrenaline junkie in his eight bullets.
Ignoring that comment. Kai asked, "Why are you here?"
"Erasers got the day off, so it's my turn to show you round the castle. Queens orders after breakfast." Present Mic twirled on his heels and pointed at Kai, then began leading the way. "You maybe her favorite little birdy and boy toy right now, but your still an ex-criminal, you naughty boy. Our Lady will explain everything before her meeting in the Grand Council room."
The Grand Council. Your most trusted advisors, men from noble houses as old as Musutafu itself, All Might and Endeavor being two of them.
All Might, Toshinori Yagi, a retired adventure known as All Might, The Golden Lion, who had given his wisdom alongside his old friend Sir Nighteye, your father before his untimely passing. Now, he served as your guide.
Endeavor, Enji Todoroki, commander and trainer for all the knights and solders underneath your command. The red headed man had a fiery temper. Rumor had it he had a run in with Dabi and one of The Leagues Nomu's a fortnight ago resulting in the long scar down his face.
Giran, Your Master of Whisperers. A sleezy man who used his network of spies to gather any information you wanted.
"So..." Present Mic peaked over his shoulder, giving Kai a smug smirk. "What scared off that cute little maid?" He winked and made a jerking gesture. "Were ya caught rubbin' one out or what? Choking the chicken? Jerkin' your meat?"
"That is none of your business." Kai was fuming, his teeth and jaw gritting so hard. He wanted to Overhaul this bastard!
Present Mic faced forward, shrugging his shoulders. "It's nothing to be ashamed of Toucan. We all do it, it's natural and human." He sounded smug, glancing over his shoulder again and bringing a finger to his lips. "Nothing wrong with thinking about our lovely Queen or anything. Don't worry, I won't tell."
Kai's eyes widened. Oh god, this yellow cockatiel fuck heard him?! Now, Kai's face was completely scarlet.
