barelyalive

commenting is encouraged, I love reading them

You tried not to panic, knowing it would only make it worse, but given the circumstances all you wanted to do was cry. Today would be the day you forget your little pouch that was filled to the brim with the necessities, even flushable wipes to help relieve from the uncomfortable use of dry toilet paper. Your first mistake. Not to mention the dispensary on the wall was completely empty, void of a single pad, hell, not even a panty liner. You wracked your brain to think of any of the women on staff who you could contact and request for an emergency tampon or something to be brought to your stall, but realized most of them had already left for the day. Working as close as you did with the executives meant staying longer compared to the rest…leaving them as your only means of salvation.

As normalized having your period was, your job was heavily male-centered, and the absolute last thing you wanted to do was have even the briefest of discussions regarding your pussy, especially when it came to her monthly tantrum. You couldn’t stay in that stall forever, especially if they came looking for you after a while. And it would be more mortifying if your superiors thought you were taking a dump on company time…

With a deep breath, you steeled yourself. Gathering as much toilet paper as you could, you created a makeshift pad thick enough to hopefully catch most of the heavy flow and keep it from staining through. Thankfully, you wore dark colored slacks today.

Flushing the toilet, you carefully pull up your underwear and pants so as not to disturb the placement of your DIY project, doing a little shimmy to adjust accordingly for comfort. Exiting the stall, you washed your hands and looked at yourself in the mirror, glaring at the pimple between your brows—As if its mere existence was the reason for your predicament. Shaking your hands dry, you patted the remainder of cool water on your face and neck, taking a few more deep breaths before forcing a smile; act natural. All you had to do was act natural until you were dismissed, and you’d be home free.

Stiffly walking down the hall, already feeling the floodgates pouring into the mounds of two-ply stuffed in your pants, you grimaced. The closer you got to the doors leading into the lion's den, the more your heart thudded in your chest. Everything was going to be fine, was your mantra. Sure, you’d be uncomfortable for the next thirty minutes, shifting in your seat restlessly as the paper offered no cushion nor comfort, but at least you’d finish the day with your dignity still intact.

“You smell different.”

Or, so you thought.

Not even five minutes after sitting down, Sanzu of all people leaned over to inform you of this fact. A couple thoughts circulated in panic—He can smell your stress sweat, or worse, he can smell the blood. Both were irrational, utterly preposterous. The second in command had a sensitive nose, but he wasn’t a hound. Probably…

Deciding to play it cool, you simply replied softly, “New perfume.”

He paused for a moment, as if contemplating whether that was a suitable explanation. Finally, he shrugged, leaning back in his chair. Releasing a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, you adjusted in your seat already regretting not putting an extra layer of toilet paper for good measure, diaper-butt be damned. One could only hope it’ll hold you until time to clock out. You took notes, redirecting your focus to the task at hand rather than counting the minutes down in your head. However, a sudden squeeze in your lower abdomen was the only warning you got until your endometrium decided to shed more on your parade, the thick warmth an uncomfortable reminder you and your panties were on borrowed time.

The first few days were always the heaviest, and god forbid you overestimate the hold in the toilet paper and bleed on the chair.

“[_____].” You jumped at the sudden cut into your internal crisis, inadvertently pushing out more blood. With an inaudible groan, you looked at your other superior, Kakucho, who had a raised brow. “Are you with us?”

You blinked. A brief scan of the room revealed they asked for your input on something. And you were clearly elsewhere. “Oh. Oh uh…yes, I am. Must’ve spaced out, sorry. Could you repeat, please?”

“I asked if you brought the Kobayashi file?”

You blinked again. Shit, shit, shit. 

You left it on your desk. Walking that distance and back would surely disturb the project in your pants, no doubt one wrong move could shift the whole thing into a bundled up nightmare damn near riding up your asscrack. Internally, you’re screaming into the void.

“[_____].”

Composing yourself, you cleared your throat. “I know that file in and out, sir.”

“…That’s not what I asked.”  You sweatdropped. “Is everything alright?”

Your facade crumbled a millimeter. “Everything’s great. I was merely implying I’m familiar with the contents in the file that we don’t even need it to be in the room. That’s all.”

You heard a snort from somewhere in the room.

Kakucho, ever the master of a poker face, couldn’t help but fix you with a bemused expression. And he wouldn’t be the only one. Despite his usual indifference, you’ve unfortunately caught the attention of the boss. Mikey’s gaze slowly lifted, trailing to your stiffening form just mere feet away. He stared, unblinking. Normally, this wouldn’t faze you, being under his unwavering watch. But today, in this moment, you’ve never felt more exposed.

You fought down the urge to squirm.

“So, you didn’t bring it.” Kokonoi stated, smirking. “Our dear [_____], slacking on her job. Hell must’ve froze over.”

“Also the last one in the room. Tsk, tsk. That’s a red mark on your perfect attendance.” Ran attempted to joke, but his wording couldn’t have been more correct. Feeling the toilet paper line of defense grow weaker against the Trojan War shedding from your uterus, you could only pray you wouldn’t have another red mark stained onto the seat.

With a huff, you attempted to derail. “Let’s not dwell on something trivial, it was a minor slip up.”

“Then go get it.”

You froze. Mikey continued to eye you, intently. His simple command hung in the air like bait in shark infested waters. He watched your throat bob slightly, as if he just asked you to do the impossible. Something so simple as getting up and walking, yet you visibly hesitated. A ghost of a grin graced his face. “Well?”

“I-I…I wouldn’t want to cause a delay-”

“You already have. Go get it.”

“Sir-” 

Sanzu yet again interjected himself into your plight, taking offense to your blatant disrespect to Mikey’s authority. He hissed, “You deaf or dumb? Get your ass up before I drag you out the seat.” 

You held your hand up to his snarl, brow twitching. “Alright.” You pushed back from the table, standing straight as a board and fists clenched to your sides. Training your eyes on the doors ahead, all you needed to do was put one foot in front of the other. Doesn’t matter that their pointed stares felt like tiny probes in your skin, tracking every twitch and stiff movement as the path in front of you seemed to grow longer and longer with each step; tunnel vision wouldn’t even begin to describe. 

However, your chosen obliviousness to gazes around you would be your second mistake. 

Everything felt as if it occurred in slow motion. Passing the head of the table, past Mikey’s chair, his hand swiftly shot out to shackle around your wrist–tightly. You winced, lashes fluttering in shock as you fixed a startled expression at the platinum blonde. Mikey didn’t bother providing an explanation, and his hair curtained his face where you couldn’t gauge what he was thinking. You turned to the others at the table, only to pale at the sight of them already staring back. A chill crawled down your neck, as if something within the room had…changed somehow.

“Mm. Thought so.” He eventually voiced. 

This offered no clarification, merely furthering your confusion and concern with the strange energy palpitating around you. Kakucho roughly loosened his tie, as if suddenly too tight around the collar. Kokonoi held a hand over the bottom half of his face, as if trying to block something from invading his nose, Sanzu appeared the same as he fixed you with a feral sneer that could only be described as unbridled disdain. Ran could hardly contain his excitement, nudging his brother as they exchanged a silent conversation, Rindou biting the inside of his cheek to fight back a grin. Mochi cleared his throat a few times, adjusting in his seat, unable to find comfort no matter how much he fidgeted. Takeomi dragged a hand down his face, cigarette nearly slipping out his mouth from how his lips trembled. 

You would’ve continued to be a deer in headlights if not for the feeling of Mikey rubbing his thumb across the veins on your inner wrist. Instinctively, you jerked away, alarm bells sounding off despite not understanding where the danger was coming from. But, his grip didn’t falter. If anything, he tugged you closer. Slowly, he lifted his head to meet your troubled gaze…your pattering heart dropped. 

No longer an inky abyss staring back at you. But something far worse. 

“I knew it would pay off at some point…” He muttered, tugging you once more until he was able to nose at your wrist. “Always so punctual…never slip up. Not once.” 

“W-What…” you stammered, face heating slightly at his display of affection. “I..I don’t..” 

“All that overtime sure blends the days together, doesn't it? Have you losing track of important stuff like… time. Or, files. A particular monthly occurrence, perhaps?” Mikey felt your pulse jump. He grinned, the overhead light catching the abnormally sharp end of his cuspid. 

Your breath hitched. Snatching your wrist away, you stumbled back to where you almost tripped over yourself. Before you could think to swiftly turn on your heel and book it for the exit, hands grab your forearms from behind, effectively blocking you from escape. A small scream lurches from you, head jerking to the side to come face to face with Sanzu…who you swore was on the other side of the room. He leaned down to sniff at you, nose pressed to the pulse in your neck. You struggled to no avail, his usual strength overpowering yours but this felt…different. After a particular inhale, he groaned deep within his chest. “Fuckin’ knew it…from the second you sat down. Smelled sweeter than yesterday.” 

“Poor thing must’ve forgot her silly little scent blockers.” Kokonoi spoke, condescendingly. His hand was still covering the bottom of his face, not like it made a difference. “You just aren’t on the ball today.”

Scent blockers? Rindou snorted at your visible confusion. “Those napkin things you shove in your panties. That artificial flowery shit works like repellent."   

Ran gave a low whistle. “Yeah, gives ya one hell of a migraine. Pads, tampons, pantyliners, you name it. Makes it easier to keep our urges in check, at least. Must be an unlucky day. Well…unlucky for you.” He winked. 

“Don’t think that’s the part troubling her.” Mochi dryly replied. “Somone’s gotta address the elephant in the room…”  

“Ah, she’s a smart girl. I’m sure she’s already figured it out by now.” 

The brothers flashed you their sharp smiles, eyes glowing in a way that resembled that of predators watching from the trees. Your knees nearly gave out, knocking together before Sanzu quickly caught you, forcing you to stand. When you woke up in a rush this morning, phone uncharged, breakfast missed and bag haphazardly packed, you supposed that should’ve been a sign. Hours later, when you sat in a bathroom stall with your period staring back at you and a forgotten emergency kit left at home, you supposed that should’ve been a warning. 

Now? 

Here you were, standing in the midst of a supernatural discovery at your most vulnerable, practically a walking blood-bank, in a room full of goddamn vampires. 

And ones who’ve clearly been plotting on your downfall. 

“Y-...You guys are fucking with me, right? I mean, wearing fake fangs, and those ridiculous Halloween contacts just to scare me a little…very funny…” 

Mikey leaned on his closed fist, elbow perched on the table. He eyed you, mirthful. “Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself, sweetheart.” 

At that, your eyes closed in resignation. This was insane. No, asinine. 

With a shuttered exhale, you meekly asked, “Are you going to kill me?” 

The silence that followed after your question was very loud. Thankfully, Kakucho felt that you’ve sweated long enough, breaking the quiet with a hefty sigh. “No. We aren’t.” 

“Yet.” Sanzu added, just to be a nuisance. Kakucho shot him a look, then continued. 

“Frankly…we’ve been meaning to propose something to you.” 

Your brows furrowed. “...Propose what?” 

Sanzu’s grip around your forearms loosened when it appeared you weren’t going to make a run for it. Not like you would’ve made it far anyway. Mikey swiveled in his chair, facing you fully. “Simple. We feed off you. And you get to keep your life.” 

You gaffawed.  “Oh, is that all? Well, why didn’t you say so?” Sarcasm dripped from you like the red river between your thighs. None of them reacted, merely watched with intensity that had you gulping down any other remarks. “Why me?” 

“Convenience,” Mikey shrugged, swinging his leg, “since you work so closely with us, we won’t need to risk searching for an applicable donor who can’t be trusted to keep their mouth shut. Plus, we can ease your…bloodflow.” 

With a grimace, you shook your head. “No, no, absolutely not. There’s no way in hell I’m going to let my bosses drink my blood, let alone my period blood. Nope, fuck no, that’s not happening, you’re just gonna have to kill me–” 

“We’ll give you a 30% raise. And a company car.” Kakucho offered, nodding over to Kokonoi who was already tapping away on his laptop with one hand. “We’ll even supply you with all the menstrual products, supplements, comfort items needed during each feeding process.” 

“You had me at raise, where do I sign?”

“Was my bratty girl really that desperate for a fix?”Sukuna’s pout mocks yours, a smug grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. He’s all arrogance, sharp-toothed and composed in a freshly ironed suit.

“Left my other phone at home. Nearly lost my mind thinking about you,” he says gruffly, tattooed fingers spreading your plump folds apart till your oozing hole is visible ‘n winking up at him, “I was dying to get back to this sloppy cunt. All I could think about for a week was exactly how I was going to fuck you when I returned.”

Sukuna doesn’t give you the time to complain or throw your usual accusations at him—a habit he’s quietly decided he should curb in you. He watches, eyes entirely too focused, as a bead of slick tracks a slow path down your slit. It wets the head of his cock the second he presses it against your waiting hole. Then, with one ruinous shove, he’s sheathed entirely. Your walls screaming as they stretch to take all that length. He lets out a groan against the shell of your ear, rough hands bruising your hips to keep you pinned.

“Look at that. Didn’t even need a warm-up,” he rasps, a lazy laugh catching in his throat. He’s looking down at where you’re joined, watching your pussy grip him like it’s starving. The tips of his ears flushed, the only betrayal of how much he’s really feeling it. “I think all this waiting got you even sluttier, pussy’s leakin’ all over my suit”

“Shit…” you whine, head lolling back, eyes squeezed shut as he starts snapping his hips into you. Hard enough for the impact to rattle your teeth. “Feels s’fuckin’ good, ‘Kuna.”

“Know how bad I wanted this?” He’s breathless, hands reaching down, fingers finding your sensitive, swollen bead and grinding into it without mercy. “Thought about booking you a flight just to fuck you in the room next to mine, pump you full of my seed while she slept.”

“You’re—hah… fuckin’ sick.” Contrary to your words, your pussy betrays you, clamping tight around him. An aching throb centered right in your core. Your thighs a mess, quivering and useless under his relentless pounding.

“Yeah,” he grunts, pace turning feral. The lewd, wet squelch of it echoes off the concrete, the sound of your cunt taking every bit of him. “But you’re still gonna take every inch of my cock, aren't you?”

That’s the breaking point. You gush, your walls spasming ‘n milking his cock as you come. You’re a dripping mess, and Sukuna doesn’t spare a thought for the hundreds of thousands he’s spent on you, it’s worth it to him if it means having you like this. In fact, his mind is already drifting to the latest bag collection you’ve been eyeing, another thing he’s ready to indulge.