yari

(context for the screenshots: 1) the creator of the groupchat sending me comfort for the hate i had received only hours before creating the hate groupchat. 2) a portion of me confronting them about the groupchat. 3) them admiting to the existence of that groupchat. there are many more messages to this conversation, these are only brief sections.)

(context for the screenshot: and exchange between me and the member of the hate groupchat who leaked and screenshared the groupchat to someone else in bwa)

so no, bwa did not create a groupchat to send hate to anyone, someone created a groupchat to send hate to us. and no, bwa did not send death threats to other writers, death threats were sent to us. we have shared countless screenshots in the past depicting the disgusting things that were being sent to our inboxes, and were then mocked by people for “playing the victim”. it is downright evil that the things people have done to us has somehow been spun into this lie where we are now the perpetrators.

i understand that to most of you this doesn't matter, that this is not important. and i agree, i really do. but this whole ordeal has reached a point well beyond us being slandered by people who simply don't like us. since november, i have watched my friends be put through incredibly distressing situations. death threats, rape threats, homophobia and racism are just a few of the things that have been sent into our inboxes and/or directed towards us through anonymous blogs. some people have deactivated, some people have received hate for simply daring to interact with us, some people have abandoned tumblr as a whole, and now we have been made aware that lies are being spread... and all of this is happening over fanfiction.

i'm aware that, in posting this, it's not going to change much. those who believe the vile, baseless, receiptless claims that have been made against myself and others will continue to do so. if anything, they will feel an even stronger sense of hatred. i don't expect people to care about this matter, because it's ultimately a lot more fun to be outraged at a group of strangers than it is to feel an ounce of sympathy for them.

i am not posting this for drama. if i wanted drama, i would have posted about this and tagged those involved the moment this all began back in november. i am posting this because 5 months of constant harassment is now bordering on stalker behaviour and, quite frankly, i no longer feel it's my job to "keep the peace" for the sake of not upsetting anyone.

being quiet has done nothing: we have continued to receive hate, and other writers are comfortably twisting the truth and accusing us of doing the vile things they did to us. this situation has extended beyond just "bwa", the entire community is now riddled with other tumblr users being spoken about horrifically.

everyone needs to lock in and remember that we are all here for the same reason: fanfiction. fanfiction is not a competition, it's not a race we all need to win. it's literally just a hobby. why are we treating it like it is a matter of life and death?

i don’t really know how to end this post. i have so much more to say and share, yet i do not want to bring more harm to people, even if they themselves have carelessly hurt so many others. so, i’ll end it by saying this: names have been kept hidden in the screenshots out of the scarcely remaining respect i have for the people who made that groupchat and out of hope everyone can just move on, once and for all.

tw!! death/suicide threats. if you've read this and are unaware of the extent of the hate myself and others have received (and are now wrongfully being accused of doing), this is a post i made addressing it back in november. this is nothing new.

Pain blossomed like flowers in the spring. 

It’s everywhere– all you can feel, all you can register. Fire licked beneath your skin, warming the blood in your veins, and promising eternal damnation. Even the simple act of opening your eyes felt like too much of a burden. You could feel the walls of your throat rubbing against itself with nothing coating it. Your throat had to be raw, so dry. You would kill for water whether it was dirty or clean.

Vaguely, you thought you were being punished. For what? You aren’t sure. Maybe the baker at the corner street finally had enough of your sticky fingers. Or was it the fruit vendor that carted his wares out every Sunday morning? Your list of enemies was too long. Trying to figure out who put a bounty on your worthless life was like finding a needle in a haystack.

Sitting up took all your strength. Your muscles screamed in protest, desperate to lay back down in the plush bed beneath you– bed?

You finally looked down, hands running along the silk sheets. Thousands of thoughts raced through your head as you stared at the bedding. How much could you get for just ripping a corner piece off? What if you stole the entire sheet? It was overwhelming to think about– you couldn’t even include the hypothetical price of the pillows your head was just on.

Even the clothes you wore were not your own. Never in a million years would you be able to afford a new outfit, nor would you buy something that wasn’t suited for the harsh weather outdoors. Most of your skin was exposed– a simple nightset adorning your body. Your legs were covered while your arms and shoulders were not. The thread count must be high, you thought. The material was so smooth against your skin, you couldn’t even fathom it.

As if realizing your situation, the pain in your body was subdued. How could you feel pain when resting upon the clouds? You weren’t ungrateful by any means, but you were confused. Your memory was failing you, giving you nothing but splotchy moments of the last time you were awake. All you could remember was feeling so, so cold. You were certain that was your last night alive, curled into a ball in a dark alleyway.

Hunger was so great. It was killing you from the inside out, and so was the disease that ran through the town. Your body was at its weakest, unable to fight for itself anymore. The last time you closed your eyes, you were ready to return to the Earth. Perhaps on the other side, your deceased family would be waiting for you.

“Do you wish to live?” 

The voice rang through your head, suddenly clearing the haze in your mind. You heard that voice as you were drifting off into Death’s embrace. You remember thinking, Yes. I want to live. Who doesn’t? You’re not sure if the words were ever relayed aloud.

Your feet slowly swing towards the edge of the bed. By the Gods– when was the last time your feet had touched such soft carpeting? The feeling alone was enough to make you cry.

Still weak, your legs wobbled slightly as you pushed yourself to stand. For the first time since you woke, you took in the sight of the room around you. It was pitch black. You should have been staring into darkness itself, but surprisingly… Your eyes could see well. You made out the silhouette of a fireplace, unlit and filled with timber ready to light. There was a makeshift seating area in the room with couches and books on a coffee table. The sight made you dizzy– this room alone was bigger than the shack that your family used to have.

Your eyes fell on the window. The curtains were drawn, not a single ounce of sunlight poking through the fabric. A frown found its way onto your lips as you went towards it. How long have you been asleep? Maybe you would be able to locate your resting place. 

Pulling the curtains back came with pain.

Without warning, your skin burst into flames. The sizzle of your skin filled you with dread– you’d never seen something like this before, let alone felt it. The scent of your scorched skin was akin to a rotting corpse on a summer day. You would gag if you weren’t in so much pain. 

You threw your arms instinctively over your face, trying to shield yourself from the sudden assault. A weak cry exited your lips as you stumbled backwards, tripping over yourself. You hit the floor with a heavy thud, but you couldn’t focus on the pain. You were scrambling away from the window as fast as you could, chest rising and falling in sporadic breaths. 

Safe within the shadows, the pain dulled. Your hands trembled as you let them down, taking in the damage on your skin. Large blisters covered your forearms, some already popped and oozed out blood and puss. A shaky whimper left your lips, warbled and broken from the state of your throat.

“Pathetic.”

The voice came from behind you, eerily similar to the voice you heard in the alleyway. A low rumble cutting through the once serene state of your room, filled with nothing but disgust and malice. It made you freeze completely, the cries dying in your throat out of self preservation more than anything else. With silent tears streaming down your face, you watched as the man came into view.

Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him. Was it with fear? Were you awestruck? Perhaps a mixture of both.

Wearing nothing but a white kimono and slippers, the man strode directly into the sun. The light hit his skin, directly on his face and the expanse of his chest where his kimono was loose. Not a single part of him sizzled. He simply accepted the light, and pulled his hand out of its comfortable resting position in his robes. With one quick move, the room was plunged into darkness once more.

Your eyes adjusted to the darkness nearly instantly. Not that you needed to– the fireplace lit without warning, and the chandelier above head came to life as well. With the extra light– with him looking directly at you– you could really see him now. 

Intricate markings were inked across his skin, sharp and precise. Vaguely, you wondered if it hurt to have those done– they were all over his face, his neck, and disappeared beneath the kimono. When he shifted slightly, you could see similar markings around his wrist. Quickly, you realized these were the markings of a criminal. A branding done to those who had committed the highest of offenses. They were meant to warn others of the danger he possessed, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him

The man was breathtaking.

His features were sharp, not a single kind bone in his body. He glowered down at you with crimson eyes, and you thought you were delirious for a moment. They looked like they were shining– glimmering like rubies caught in sunlight. He looked utterly disgusted with you, and it took everything in your body to not cower into yourself. 

“Stupid girl,” he spat at you, hatred dripping in his words. “Are you trying to kill yourself the moment you rise?”

You didn’t know how to answer his question. It made no sense, if you were being honest. How would opening the curtains kill you? The pain inflicted upon you caught you just as off guard as the next person. Besides that, you couldn’t fully focus on answering. Your eyes were trained directly on his mouth. Rather, what was behind his lips.

Fitted in his mouth lay elongated canines. Four of them, to be exact. Pristinely white, and so, so sharp. You were certain they were sharp enough to break through even the toughest of leathers with ease. 

You couldn’t focus on his fangs for too long. You didn’t even have a chance to question his appearance before he squatted down in front of you. Though lower, nearly eye level with you, this man was not abandoning the air of arrogance. He was still looking down on you, and he didn’t even try to hide it.

The man– monster?-- grabbed one of your arms, hand closing around your wrist. It was a rough action, all but yanking your arm towards him. You were certain he could rip your arm off of your body if he really wanted to.

You wanted to make a small noise of pain, whether it be a whimper or a cry. The sound never left you. Something in your gut told you that whatever you did now determined your fate with him.

He inspected your arm, eyebrows pulled together. Cautiously, you tore your gaze away from him and towards his own subject of interest. 

Shock filled your chest. Skin that was marred just moments prior was smoothing out again, as if you had never been burned to begin with. You couldn’t believe your eyes, mind spinning with questions you were sure he wouldn’t answer.

Despite your healing, he clicked his tongue. Annoyance. He threw your arm back towards you, and stood straight. After wiping his hands clean from you, he slipped them back into his robe in the same resting position you first saw him  in.

“You’re not healing fast enough for my liking,” he grunted, like such a thing was something you could control. Was it? He continued, “Get up.”

He did not wait for words of acknowledgement. He simply walked towards the door, leaving you behind. 

Your body caught up before your mind did, scrambling to your feet to follow him. You wanted answers– wanted to know what happened to your body just now. The interrogation dies on your lips as you take in the sight of the hallway.

You’d never seen ceilings so high before. The walls were adorned with extravagant paintings, large and proud. You could see the brush strokes of the artist so clearly, every line and every detail done with intention.

Other antiques lined the hallways. Some statues. Some decorative katanas and other weapons. Different uniforms that were reminiscent of wars that you once read about. Vaguely, you wondered how much money you would get for all of these. Your fingers tingled with that familiar itch– they were all on display. None of them were held behind locked doors or cages. It was all so… open. 

Thieving thoughts vanished from your mind as you passed a mirror. Your footsteps halted in the dead center of the reflection. Was that… you?

Last time you saw yourself, it was in the reflection of a dirty puddle where mosquitos were already planting their larvae. The person that stared back at you was gaunt, her cheeks hollowed in, and her eyes sunken into her skull. You remember being able to count her ribs as your finger danced along her torso. Her hair was matted in several places, dull, and dirty with oils and other materials you didn’t want to pay close attention to. She had cuts and bruises painting her skin, the only color that still proved she was alive.

This was not the same person staring back at you. 

You were… clean, to put it simply. Healthy. 

There wasn’t a single moment you could recall the tresses on your head shining with so much life, properly taken care of and managed beautifully. Though it wasn’t in any intricate styling, you could still feel the soft locks in your hand as you touched it. Even your skin looked bouncy and fresh. Scars you remember being painted on your skin had disappeared, leaving nothing but a healthy glow to you. Every part of you had filled out, like the upperclassmen you would watch parading the streets of your town when they wanted to pretend to be charitable.

The most alarming part– your eyes. The original eye color you had was gone, inherited from your parents. Left in its place were rubies. They were like his. They caught the light from the hallway effortlessly, shining so bright you were certain that even if the lights turned out, you would still be able to see them in your reflection. 

“Is it your wish to piss me off more than you already have?”

You jump at the sound of his voice, tearing your gaze away from the mirror. The man is already at the end of the hall, his foot tapping impatiently on the floor. You attempt to swallow, failing miserably. You bite back the dry cough you want to hack out of you, and rush towards him.

“I’m sorry,” you croaked out, lowering your gaze.

He doesn’t respond to you nor does he acknowledge your apology. He simply turns away with another look of disgust painting his features, heading straight for the door.

The massive double doors opened without any assistance. They swung freely as if they had a mind of their own. 

On the other side was a large dining hall. The ceilings were larger than the hallway, decorated with a crystal chandelier. Along the side walls were servants, all of them with their heads bowed as the man walked into the room with confidence. The dining table itself looked like it could hold an entire army if he wished to seat them there– an exaggeration. You were still certain that it would be possible if they packed like sardines.

As you cross the threshold, the smell hits you instantly. There’s something in the air– so ripe and sweet. It’s tantalizing, teasing you with every single inhale. Suddenly, your mouth is no longer dry. Saliva pools, and you have to swallow it down lest you drool all over yourself.

But there is not a single dish on the marble dining table. None of the servants hold a tray, and you don’t see another door in the room that would lead to a dining table. No, it’s just thick curtains to keep the light out. Your confusion continued to grow as your stomach growled in anticipation, your nose still searching for the source of food. 

The man barked out a laugh from the other side of the room, and your eyes flicker towards him immediately. He’s seated at the head of the table in a seat so different from the others. While the other seats have low backs and no cushioning, his is fashioned to be reminiscent of a throne. It’s gilded, the seat tall and decorated with markings that look similar to the ones on his skin. 

He propped up an elbow on the armrest, resting his temple against his knuckles as he stared at you. He no longer scowled, a devilish smirk appearing on his features. You could see his canines ever so slightly as his grin grew.

“Though your head doesn’t work, it seems your nose still does,” he said with amusement. 

You can’t focus on his words, let alone try to decipher the meaning. Your entire body felt like someone else had taken over. Your hands tremble at your sides, yearning to reach for the food that your nose can find, but your eyes are still searching.

Out of the corner of your vision, you see him raise a hand. A gesture or a signal– he was calling for the food to finally be served. Relief was nearly instant, and you took a single step forward. Your plan was to sit at a far seat away from him, trying not to incur his wrath any further.

You didn’t make it to your seat before you froze.

A servant moved from her spot lined with the others, hands going for the sash around her waist. Her kimono falls without any other restriction, pooling beneath her as she continues walking forth. She wears no undergarments. She stands bare before the entire room, and the intense smell only grows stronger as she climbs onto the table, head towards the king’s seat and feet towards you.

“Well? Is it your plan to stand there like a fool?” 

You swallowed, your nerves on fire. You can barely manage to get the words out of your mouth. “What… What is this?”

The marked man raised a single eyebrow at you. His grin was long gone now, and his signature look of disgust had returned. “This? This is dinner, fledgling. The only dinner that you will have from me without needing to give me something in return.”

Dinner? Dinner?

Your eyes flickered back to the woman, catching the look in her eyes. She stared up at the ceiling in a daze. The dread continued to build within you as you realized the truth of her situation. She had no idea what was happening either. 

You’d heard stories when you were younger. Listened to your parents and other village elders lecture you and your siblings repeatedly about the dangerous creatures that lurked in dark shadows. As the stories go, if you tell the shadows your name, they steal your life. You become a puppet, a zombie to the one who holds your name.

Was that it? Was this woman a slave? 

“By the Gods, get on with it!” he barked at you, causing you to startle. 

“Get… get on with it?” you repeated, fingernails digging into your palm. You had to focus on the pain, and squeeze harder. It was the only thing keeping you rooted in place.

“What? Is this not appealing enough for you?” The question was laced with sarcasm, but he still lifted his hand once more. “Perhaps a young male would be more for your taste.”

On command, another servant moved forward. He did the same, undressing himself and assaulting your nostrils with the scent of… meat. Blood. You swallowed down the pouring saliva in your mouth, and tore your eyes away, hoping that it would help.

“I don’t understand,” you forced out, closing your eyes tight as if you could will away the scene in front of you. 

“You better eat now,” he ordered. His tone had a warning in it. “You will not receive my kindness again. You will be responsible for your own life.”

Hunger pangs echo through your entire being. Your stomach rumbles again, and all you can do is clutch onto your torso as if it would stop the noise. Out of instinct alone, your tongue shoots out to lick at your drying lips, only to flinch in shock at a sharp scrape.

You’re shaking– no, you’re trembling as you lift a hand towards your mouth. The corners of your lips crack as you open your mouth, but you can’t focus on that pain. All of your attention is brought to your newest appendages– things that you did not have when you last were awake. 

Your finger grazes over four canines, long and sharp. The tip of your finger nicks on the bottom left one, drawing your own blood. It beads on the surface of your finger, and panic fills your entire being.

It’s not red. Not fully, at least. You’re no stranger to your own blood, having been beaten and bruised for theft more than enough times to be well acquainted with the pain. What’s coming out of you now is dark– black mixed in with the red to make some sort of murky mixture. It’s as if your blood had been left out to dry, the cells within it rotting instead of dying off.

All strength left your legs. You stumble backwards, terrified of the implication. Your heart pounds in your chest– no. It doesn’t. You don’t feel the pulsating rush of your blood pumping in your veins, nor do you hear it thumping in your ears. You clutch at your chest, and the only thing you can feel is the rapid rise and fall as you hyperventilate.

“Ah. You’ve finally come to your senses, fledgling.” His voice snapped you back to reality. When you finally look back at him, he wasn’t paying attention to you anymore. He reached for the woman’s arm, and pulled her body towards him. 

“I… What… What have you done to me?”  you stammered out. You had nothing in your stomach, but you were certain you were about to throw up all over the pristine flooring.

“You are the one who asked me to save you,” he grunted, shaking his head. His eyes trailed the skin of the woman, trying to decide where he wanted to feast on first. “The fault lies completely with you.”

No, you wanted to say. You wanted to deny it. This isn’t what you wanted. You wanted to live, to breathe, to be able to stop suffering. This wasn’t what you had agreed to on the night. 

All words died on your tongue as you watched him bare his fangs, and sink his teeth straight through her wrist. The sight was… Gods, he had bitten down so easily. His teeth cut through her skin like she was made of butter. There was no resistance.

You smelt it before you saw it. 

Blood. It coated the corners of his lips, and pooled in his mouth easily as he drank. The scent alone was pulling you in, teasing you– and there was so much of it in this room. Two bodies, all for you to reach for if you allowed yourself.

A high pitched moan broke you from the trance. It wasn’t from pain. No, she was enjoying this. The woman he feasted on began to squirm slightly, filled with ecstasy as he drank. You smelled her arousal– watched the way she rubbed her thighs together. Hunger was great, but the horror far surpassed the ache in your stomach.

The king growled against her skin, free hand moving towards her throat. Briefly, you wondered if he meant to keep her quiet, maybe choke her in warning. This was a man that did not seem fond of interruptions–

A sickening snap filled your ears. All at once, the woman stopped moving on the table . As his hand retreated from her throat, her head lolled to the side, unable to support itself any longer. Her eyes weren’t glazed over anymore. They were simply devoid of any life. 

The man pulled his mouth away from her. His thumb grazed the corner of his mouth, tongue shooting out to lick off the stray blood from his finger. He threw a lazy glance at you. “I suggest you feast now. This blood will be putrid soon enough.”

Putrid? You couldn’t imagine it. With her skin opened from the wound he inflicted, you were wrapped in the sweet scent of blood. You could practically taste it in the air– the sweet aroma mixed with something so savory. It had to be better than any food you had tried in your life.

But you didn’t move. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t. This wasn’t right. This was something out of a story– one where a monster reigned terror on innocent lives. You weren’t that. You were no monster.

Your body surprised you. Instead of moving forth like all your instincts screamed to do, you bolted for the door. Though on the brink of death from starvation, you felt light on your feet. You ran faster than you ever had before, and the realization of your new body only filled you with more sorrow.

You didn’t look back to the dining hall as you ran. Your feet carried you back to the same room you came from, slamming the door open and shut as quickly as you could.

Tears blurred your vision as you rested your back against the door. You were in hell. Dying would have been a lighter sentence than this. 

His identity was suddenly so clear to you. He was what you were warned against as a child. His kind was what you were taught to be afraid of, and now you were one of them. Turned into one, none other than Sukuna, the King of Vampires. 

“Ungrateful peasant,” Sukuna muttered under his breath. He polished off his meal– both the female and male– and made a noise of disgust. 

While blood tasted best straight from the source, Sukuna greatly despised seeing the aftermath. Limbs, shriveled due to the lack of fluid, and the dull, gray skin. It was an appalling sight, one that made his stomach churn. Not out of pity. Never that.

It was just another reminder of how fragile humans were. They were so easy to control, so easy to hunt. After all the years he had roamed the lands, the excitement of finding a fresh kill had been lost to time. 

Beside him, his loyal servant spoke up. “Should we move forth with sending her out tonight?”

Unlike the blood bags lining the wall, Uraume was different. A servant, yes, but one of his own making. Uraume was one of Sukuna’s first thralls. One of the only ones that Sukuna allowed to live, too. He still held his mind, sharp as ever, silently ordering for the others to quickly dispose of the emptied meat.

They moved without a word of complaint or noise. Humans that lost their mind to Sukuna’s power were helpless to follow every single order, and part of the order came with Uraume holding the same authority. Not because the two were equal, but because Sukuna couldn’t bother himself with keeping them all in line.

Sukuna hummed in contemplation at Uraume’s suggestion. 

You were hungry. Ravenous, even. The transition period from your death as a human to a vampire took longer than he expected. Truthfully, he didn’t think you would break from the fever. He had fully expected to see you in in that bed dead, not on the floor cowering from the fucking sun, of all things. 

The memory made him scoff in disbelief. His venom ran through your veins. By default, his blood ran through your veins. You had the privilege of being created by him, and the fucking sun almost did you in? Had you simply fed tonight, you would be walking out underneath the warmth of the sun within a few hours, but no. You decided to be a stubborn toy, causing him all sorts of problems.

Sukuna didn’t have anyone to blame, actually. He’d known from the start that fledglings were tedious creatures. Too curious for their own good, too rash to be truly noble beings. Sukuna was not the type to house a fledgling out of the goodness of his heart. No, you were created for his own entertainment, just like all the others.

 “She will soon go mad with hunger,” Sukuna said, leaning back into his seat. A terrifying smile grew on his face as he imagined all the terror you would unleash soon enough. “Let her decide when she enters the town. Do not bar her from leaving.”

“Excellent choice, Your Majesty,” Uraume praised, and drew back into the shadows– one of the many things Sukuna enjoyed about the creature. They made themselves scarce when they were not needed.

Left alone, the king envisioned the nights to come. He imagined the wails that would echo through the halls. Your stomach would eat itself alive, leaving you writhing in pain. How long would you last with these new desires programmed into your body? Not long, he assumed. Fledglings hardly had any self control. Soon enough, he would hear the windows shatter as you made your escape towards the town.

If you didn’t feed normally soon, the transition period would never end. The venom would overcome the living cells in your body, forcing you down a deeper path than intended for you. 

Feeders were nasty monsters. Feeders only had one primal desire– to kill. They were messy, braindead beings that didn’t even care for eating or surviving. Anything with blood in their bodies was a target. Animals. Humans. Children, and babies. By the time a vampire turned into a feeder, they’d long lost all consciousness in their minds.

Usually, Sukuna locked away his fledglings in the dungeon when he wanted to produce a feeder. He’d deprive them from basic necessities out of boredom itself, then unleash them onto the world. How lucky was he that you were walking down that very path on your own volition?

The blood you were destined to shed in his name would become a story told for years. The insanity you’d go through would terrorize innocent civilizations, staining the streets red with blood, and ending lineages. There would be foolish hunters that would come for you, only to realize they were far over their heads once they realized the extent of your transformation.

Sukuna wondered how long this entertainment would last– how long he would trail after you, watching as you ravaged the Earth. Surely, your performance would keep him entertained in his memories long after you were finally killed. 

Yet the days dragged on. Uraume’s reports were all consistent: you were still in your room. There was not a single noise of movement from within. If it weren’t for the fact you were marked with Sukuna’s scent, they would have thought you had already escaped. They could smell you within your room, unmoving, unwavering.

The excitement Sukuna originally felt was turning to irritation. His patience was wearing thin. The first stage of your transition period lasted for three weeks. You had been awake, in limbo, for double that time now. Most feeders were produced after being starved for a month and a half. 

You were well over that limit. 

Rage burned under his skin as he made his way down the halls. How ungrateful could one be? You were given another chance at life– something he did not need to do. Other makers were known to have thrown their fledglings into the wild without teaching them anything, and here you were, rejecting his benevolence and grace. The least you could do was give him a show. Had you gone so insane you were too stupid to leave?

“Impossible,” he grunted under his breath.

Fledglings produced with his venom were strong. His fledglings had the potential to become pillars in the society he was creating, or true monsters wreaking havoc on the world he was trying to destroy. There was no excuse for your cowardice.

Another pang of irritation raced through him. Was his judgement wrong from the moment he met you? Had he been mistaken? He sensed fight in you that night in the alley. While on death's door, you were still desperately crawling back to life. Could he have been wrong?

Unheard of. His decisions and judgement were never wrong. Not a day in his life did he have regret, but you were the closest thing he had felt to it. 

The heavy doors to your room slammed open. The walls rattled slightly at the sheer force of his strength, threatening to crack. Looking into the room, his scowl only deepened. 

You were not in bed, cowering in fear for what you had become. You were not near the fire, attempting to keep warm while a cold chill floods through your entire body due to hunger. You were in the corner of the room, fit between the wardrobe and the desk. Somehow, the sight only pissed him off even more. 

You sat there, knees pulled to your chest, arms hugging your legs. Your forehead was pressed against your knees, and no matter how hard you held yourself, you could not suppress the shaking of your body. Upon further inspection, Sukuna found blood dripping down your body– your blood. You had dug your nails into your skin in a desperate attempt to keep yourself rooted to this one spot.

“Utterly pathetic,” Sukuna hissed. The toy he made was fucking broken, and he hadn’t even exercised you to the ground yet. 

Slowly, your head raised from your knees. Lifeless eyes stared right back at him, furthering his displeasure. What should be in front of him was madness. You should have attempted to attack him, blinded by the sheer desire for carnage. You should have transformed into a feeder by now. All teeth in your skull should have sharpened, your mouth should have elongated, and your skin should have taken on a gray, ashy shade. Yet, before him, he couldn’t believe his eyes. Not once, not ever had he seen another vampire look like this before… so utterly… human. 

A whisper of respect climbed up his throat, only to be spat out the next moment. You did not deserve it, he told himself. Desperation to hold onto humanity was nothing but a weakness that he did not have time for.

“Is it your wish to waste your life here?”

He watched as your lips parted, the cracks in your skin breaking further as they did. A weak, shaking breath exited as you managed to croak out your answer to him. “No.”

A scoff left him. “Then eat,” Sukuna ordered. “You will never reach your full potential until your stomach is full. You are a newborn– a liability. The slightest exposure to silver will be enough to be your undoing.”

You stared at him for a moment too long, mouth closing. You were thinking, weighing out all of your options… and rested your head back onto your knees. 

A dry, petty laugh filled the air. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing here– was he dreaming? Not a single soul would dare to defy him, much less ignore him so brazenly. You were beneath him, the lowest of all hierarchies. A fucking chick, bound to him and his power. 

Was it because you were still virgin of tongue? Blood had not graced your senses, unlocking the power dormant within your being. Was his venom weakening inside your body, stuck with nowhere to go? 

The trembling of your body was the only tell he had to let him know you were actively defying him. The tremors doubled in earnest as you kept your head down, and your nails dug deeper into your arms. Fresh blood spilled over, rehydrating the blood that had previously dried down.

“Eat,” Sukuna ordered once more, voice almost a low growl. “You will eat, and–”

“They’re people,” you whimpered out. “I… I can’t.”

Disbelief flooded his system. There was no doubt in his body that you had been driven to insanity. You had to be– no one in their right mind would ever think to interrupt him. 

Sukuna was reaching for you before he realized it, fresh anger bubbling in his chest. It was too easy to yank you to your feet, your body weightless under his strength. He watched as your face twisted with agony as his hands squeezed over your shoulders, lifting you higher until your feet barely grazed the ground.

“You will hear me, and I will not speak twice, you insufferable woman,” Sukuna hissed. Fear was evident in your eyes, and you did not have the strength to look away. “It is not every day that a filthy mutt is blessed with my venom– with my strength. If you believe that rotting in this corner is your attempt at dying a holy death, think again. You will die from my hands, or die trying to escape them. Have I made myself clear?”

The shaking hadn’t subsided. If anything, it got worse with him holding you up. There wasn’t a single ounce of strength left in your body that allowed you to try to stand on your own– everything hurt.

Your brain pounded against your skull incessantly since the night you ran away from the dining hall. Something in the back of your head whispered at the disgraces you would soon commit. Your stomach ate itself from the inside out, and fighting the urge to rip your abdomen apart had occupied most of your thoughts. Hell– even your teeth hurt. The new ones– the fangs that desperately wanted to clamp down on flesh. Your whole body was giving up on you… and he wanted you to just give in?

This wasn’t what you wanted. Death would have been more peaceful than the hell you woke up to. Living didn’t mean much if your heart was no longer pumping in your body, your blood no longer flowing red. 

“No,” you managed weakly. You could feel his eyes narrow at you, irritation fresh and palpable. 

“No?” he repeated, practically spitting the word back out to you.

“No!” you confirmed, tasting iron faintly in the back of your throat as your voice grew. “None of this makes sense! I was supposed to die– why didn’t you just let me die? I would’ve… I would’ve been able to join my family in the Heavens,” you trailed off, the hurt amplifying even more. You wished you could feel it– the racing of your heart as your emotions went wild. You wanted to hear the pump of blood in your ears, drowning out all reason. “Even the Earth will not take me back in her arms when I am ash. There is… I have nothing left. The Gods will not forgive me.”

Sukuna stared at you, his glare sharpening with each passing breath. Your speech was strained, throat so dry he wouldn’t have been able to understand you if he were not himself. 

Was this truly reality? Was this truly the toy that he picked up from the streets? A fucking crybaby– a flegling that refused to eat, a vampire that clung onto human morals? Were you fucking serious?

To speak of the Earth and the Heavens in his presence… He’d long denounced the Gods, their existence nothing but a farce to him. How could they be true when he was a walking calamity? No loving God would allow an abomination like himself to roam the lands. There was only one explanation: he was the God that all must look towards.

Slowly, the soles of your feet touched the ground once more. Sukuna did not remove his hands from your shoulders. If anything, his grip tightened, drawing out a painful wince as you all but folded in on yourself.

“There is no Heaven,” he whispered. His voice wasn’t a low, kind sound. It filled your body with terror— the eerie calm of his lilt striking every single nerve in your body. 

Every instinct inside of you screamed to run, to hide– this was the first you’d ever heard him like this. So eerily calm, so utterly composed. This was worse than the glares, and the taunts. You couldn’t even bring your eyes up to look towards him, the weight of his gaze pressing you further and further into the ground. 

“The Gods…” A scoff filled the air, the corners of his lips tugging into a sinister smirk. “I am the only God you will need for the rest of your pathetic life– the length of which is decided by my hand. There is none that you need to worship other than me.”

If you had a working heart, it would be pounding. You would be trying to escape, though you knew hiding from the king was futile. 

Despair settled deep in your chest. No heaven, no Gods… What was left for you here? A life of suffering? What good was that—

“Bite me.”

Your eyes snap up towards him once again, trying to discern if you heard him right. Bite him? 

There wasn’t a smirk on his face, nothing teasing in his eyes. He was serious, for reasons you did not understand. Thankfully, he seemed to read the confusion-filled terror on your face and went on to explain.

“You will not feed from humans, as stupid as you are,” Sukuna scoffed, shaking his head like it would remove the words from his tongue. “But I have plans for you. You have a purpose to serve, and your death is not something I am working towards yet.”

You stared at him, as if he was speaking in a different language– as if he had two sets of arms growing out of the side of his body. Perhaps you were delirious from hunger, unable to properly decipher his words.

And yet, his hand snaked around you, gripping your head at the base of your skull to provide him ample leverage to pull you towards his neck. The king tilted his head slightly, baring his throat to you.

“Eat,” he ordered, the words reverberating through your body. Was this what it meant to be made and maker? “You will not swallow from humans, but a beast should not be unfavorable for you.”

You trembled in his arms, nostrils flaring ever so slightly. In the presence of other humans, in your spiraling downfall of realizing you were different, you hadn’t noticed him. Hadn’t smelt his scent, the tantalizing warmth that radiated off of his body in ways that you can only describe as unholy. 

Saliva pooled in your mouth, coating your throat as you swallowed. 

This had to be another trick. Had to be another biological change that happened in your body– there had to be a reason your fangs ached at the sight of his throat. From what you know, such things should only happen in the presence of living beings. Sukuna, by all means, was not alive. 

As he said– he was a beast. A monster. A story told to children to warn them of the dangers of the night. He was ruthless, terrifying, and unjust. Yet, you were pressing ever closer to him, as if you could morph your body into his.

His skin broke easily with your sharp, newborn canines. You gripped onto the fabric of his robes tight, trying to ground yourself as a strange sensation of warmth flooded your mouth.

How to describe blood? It tasted rich, a hint of savory sweetness in the mouthwatering iron. It was thick, coating your tongue and teeth in a way that not even the best village cook’s soup could ever dream to be. 

You hadn’t even swallowed yet– more of the addicting taste filling your mouth, a trail of his blood sliding down from the corner of your mouth.

And fuck– you hadn’t swallowed yet.

Sukuna’s mind went blank as you stayed like that, unsure of what to do next. Unsure if swallowing was the right move, or if you wanted to stay in the ecstasy of tasting your first blood. You were completely unaware of the fire you lit within him– blood rushing to both the site of injury, and his hardening cock against your stomach.

A mere fledgling should not have venom as strong as what you were injecting into his body, breaking down his defenses, leaving him a near puddle under your grasp. You are all he can feel, all he can touch, all he can sense. There’s nothing else that exists in the world but you in that moment, cracked lips against his skin, trying to fuse your body with his. 

Sukuna had to rationalize with himself– you were a creature of his own making. His venom ran deep in your body, undiluted by the taste of another’s blood. The venom you were spitting out into his own body was a direct reflection of his own power, his own skill and grandeur… But still, there was no reason he should be weak to a fledgling’s new found power.

His hand in your hair tightened to an almost painful grip, his other arm coming up around your back and squeezing you tighter to his body. Sweat was threatening to break out on his skin as your venom spilled deeper into him, infecting him with pleasure that made his eyesight go hazy around the edges.

The king knew you were not much better, though you may not be able to notice it.

You’re absolutely high on your senses. If he releases you, you would fall into a heap on the ground, writhing in pleasure that you could not understand. He holds you tighter against him, trying to convince himself that it would be a hassle to deal with your lifeless state, not for the reason he wanted to keep you closer.

Your skin was growing increasingly warm, and you hadn’t even properly drank yet. The scent of your pheromones were invading his senses– the source of it coming from right between your legs. You were weak to his blood, to the taste of another vampire– to the taste of your maker. 

“By the…” Sukuna cursed, voice ragged and thick. “Swallow, woman. Swallow if you know what’s good for you.”

The trance of his blood on your tongue finally broke. You pulled a shaky breath through your nostrils, the scent of him flowing through your body once more. Lord– it was too much. The combined smell and taste of him… At that moment, you knew you were destined for hell.

The first swallow of his blood elicited a weak, hungry moan from you, the sound reverberating against his skin. You succumbed to him, though you were the one feeding off of him. One gulp turned into two. Two into four, until you felt your body grow stronger, and your stomach no longer screamed at you.

It took everything in you to pull away from him– to pull away from the sweet taste of him. If the hand tangled in your hair hadn’t started to pull, you may have never left his neck. 

The loss was instant. Your eyes harrowed in on the puncture wounds you left on his skin, watching as his blood began to bead up at the surface. You wanted to reattach yourself, to lick him clean, to ensure that not a single droplet of bloodmade honey was wasted. 

You didn’t have time to mourn the loss, not when a hand closed around your throat, and began to walk you backwards until you were flush against the wall.

Daring to look up, you found the king’s eyes locked onto yours. There was no red– just black, pupils blown out to an intense proportion. His breathing was erratic as he glowered down at you, trying to compose himself to the best of his ability, but you could feel it– his hand trembling around your neck, the intense warmth of his body pressed against yours. 

“I offer you a kindness…” Sukuna’s voice was low, threatening. You couldn’t look away in fear even if you wanted to, his hand tightening around your throat. His teeth are bared, and you swear he’s moments away from growling at you. He repeated his words, “I offer you a kindness, and you dare to dose me? To drug me with the venom that I made possible for your body to develop?”

“I… I…” you stutter, mind still spinning. Was it from the lack of oxygen with the way his hand was wrapped around your neck? Was it the fact you were still coming down from the high of his blood on your tongue? You’re not sure, but you know for a fact you have no idea what he’s talking about.

Your breath mingled with his, hot and heavy. His eyes pull away from your gaze, only to fall to your lips where his blood drips a straight line down your chin. A scowl overcomes his features nearly immediately, and his thumb swiped against the blood. He smeared it across your skin, collecting as much as he could on his fingertip.

“Do you know how valuable my blood is? Waste a drop, and I will bleed you dry,” he hissed at you, pressing his thumb to your lips– no longer cracked, soft and supple against his hard touch. You couldn’t help but open your mouth to him, tongue darting out to collect the sweet taste of him. 

Suluna can’t tear his eyes away from the sight. The edges of your teeth were tinged a dark red– the remnants of his blood that had clung onto the crevices of your mouth. Your fangs, so new and fresh, unchipped by bad decisions, shine in the candlelight of the room. 

A sweet whimper left your lips, furthering the insanity he felt– the vibration of your moan against his thumb, the flushed appearance of your skin… He swore he could feel your heart thumping in the veins of your throat, even though he knew such a thing was impossible. Was it? With all that he’d felt in the past few minutes, he’s certain the laws of the universe had been entirely rewritten to be wrapped around your finger.

Sukuna doesn’t flinch as your fangs nicked the side of his thumb, drawing another small, steady stream of his blood into your mouth. A guttural growl emerges from his throat, low and deep. It’s a warning– daring you to take more of him than he’d allowed. Yet, you cannot help it. Your lips close around the digit, and your eyes flutter shut as your tongue laves over the open wound. You crave the taste of him like an addict searching for their next fix. 

“All you do is take,” he mutters, his other hand coming up to uncharacteristically caress your cheek. 

The touch forces you to look up at him once more through half lidded eyes, still on the high of what his blood does to you. Then, his hand snakes back around your head, forcing your eyes towards the ceiling. His thumb leaves your mouth as a result of the sudden jerk, and a desperate whine fills the air. 

“You owe me a debt.”

You don’t have the chance to think about how you are to repay him. He doesn’t keep you waiting, doesn’t let the tab accumulate interest. The hand around your throat disappears, and the hand in your hair tilts your head to the side. You barely register the movements before a sharp sting fills your senses.

It hurts. Fire bursts along your carotid artery, your body seizing up, trapped between him and the wall. A choked, painful groan leaves your lips as your hands reach up to his shoulders, trying to push him off of you.

Sukuna doesn’t allow you to struggle. Both wrists get pinned above your head in a tight grip– one that you’re certain would have broken your bones had you not fed on him just moments prior. You’re left to suffer under his bite, forced to succumb to the pain overtaking your body…

The pain all but disappears within seconds.

White hot pleasure shoots throughout your entire system as the warmth of something enters you. Was this what he was talking about? The drug– the venom? 

Briefly, you think of the servant woman on the table. How she was at the pinnacle of pleasure, nearly at heaven’s door from the feel of Sukuna’s mouth on her– not just on her, but from him feeding. Vaguely, you realize you have been reduced to that woman. Mindless, pliant, and utterly horny. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so up in the clouds.

A loud, needy moan falls from your lips, and your body moves with a mind of its own. You can feel him against your stomach, hard, throbbing, leaking through the fabric of his robes. And you’re pressing onto your toes, trying to align him with your own aching core, needing to feel more of him than just his teeth in you.

Sukuna noticed your movements. You’d be a fool to think he didn’t. Rather than reprimand you or rip your throat out, he instead showed you another mercy. His knee lodged directly between your legs, the thick muscle of his thigh pressing right against your center.

The king moans against your throat as your hips begin to work against him. You respond in kind, something akin to his name leaving your lips next. 

The taste of you on his tongue was maddening. Sukuna keeps drawing from you, taking slow pulls and slower swallows, as if doing so would allow him to savor the taste of your blood– blood that still hasn’t fully matured.

Without feeding, the blood in your system had remained stagnant. Your body hadn’t the chance to circulate that new, jelly like blood that all vampires contained. No, he can still taste it– the sweet richness of human in your body. The only new addition was the venom slowly producing within you, but Sukuna knew that wasn’t the root of the addicting flavor.

Was this the flavor of a vampire that hadn’t had the chance to feed on their first human yet? He had never encountered such a delicacy before, something so lethal meant to incapacitate even the strongest of his kind. 

“Witch,” Sukuna rasps against your neck. “You are a fucking witch.”

You can’t answer him even if you wanted to. Your brain turned to mush, body moving on autopilot as you continued to rub yourself against him, soaking through his robes, and feeling every outline and ridge of his muscles. 

There isn’t enough time to react before his hands are moving down your body, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. He squeezed at you until his hands smoothed over the curve of your ass and hooked around the back of your thighs.

Your legs wrapped around his hips out of instinct alone, just as how you kept your neck bared to him as he came back for a second bite. This time, you didn’t feel the white hot pain that came with the first intrusion. Instead, the pleasure only seemed to intensify as he stood still, letting his venom burn into your body and mix with every part of you. He held you there, almost as a punishment, doing exactly what you had done to him.

“Your.. Your Highness,” you gasped out, nails digging into his shoulders. You were at the brink of insanity– you needed more… more of what? You weren’t too sure. You just needed him to never leave you, to never abandon you, to never–

“Do not disrespect me with honorifics you do not believe in,” he growled against your skin. He was just as delirious as you, burning hot against you, losing his mind with words he wasn’t even aware he was speaking aloud. “You know my name. You will scream it to the heavens you believe in– scream it until you are certain the Gods you dare worship have abandoned you completely. You will become mine in body and soul, and I will remind you of the fact until it is burned into your bones.”

The heat between your legs only builds, rooting itself deeper inside of you. You rut against him, eyes rolling back into your skull as he continues to feed from you. The two of you are insatiable, burning with a desire hotter than hell itself.

“More,” you whisper, your voice barely cutting through the thick, heavy air. “More, Sukuna.”

You’re ripped from the wall a moment later, strong hands carrying you across the room. The way he sets you down onto the mattress isn’t kind, your body bouncing against the soft sheets, only to be stabilized once more as the solid mass of him covers you. 

The venom running its course in your body makes all of your senses hyper aware. You can feel every ridge of his muscles against you, the heavy breathing of his chest pressing against yours as he takes in more of your scent. The hard press of his cock, heavy against your thigh, threatening to poke out of the robes that seemed utterly too thick for the moment.

Your grievances of fabric don’t manage to find its way onto your tongue. A resounding rip fills the air, and the cold brush of air hits your naked form. You can’t even bring yourself to mourn the tattered pieces of cloth– though a sad part in you wonders how much money you could make from just a small cut of the silk.

Sukuna stared down at you with hunger so deep in his eyes. Hunger that stemmed from lust, not from gluttony. You could smell it– a faint change in the air. It’s almost as sweet as the taste of his blood, but that’s not it either. 

Vaguely, you recognized the scent as desire, but you didn’t need to put a name to it to be able to pinpoint it. You can feel him trembling ever so slightly against you, and you are a single brush of his skin against yours away from coming undone for him.

Sukuna’s hands– callused, large, and warm– started at your neck. You could feel your blood smearing down your collarbone as his hands dragged south. His brush against your breasts left your nipples stiff and sensitive, but he didn’t stop there. He went lower, past the softness of your waist and stomach, outlined the curve of your hips, then rested on your thighs. He parts your legs, nails digging into the supple skin, and lowers.

There’s no fanfare. No build up. He simply begins to devour you, sparks flying behind your eyelids as he takes one, hard stripe up your slit. 

Sukuna holds your trembling thighs apart, not allowing them to even attempt to close around his head. He feasts upon the dribbling spectacle between your legs, flattening his tongue and collecting your essence with each swipe. His lips close around your clit, sensitive and throbbing, and the king sucks.

You’re writhing beneath him, hands in his hair, tugging at the short, pink locks. The moans and whines that exit your lips aren’t barred by embarrassment– you can’t even feel such an emotion in that moment. Was it the venom making you high? You couldn’t understand the repercussions of your actions, didn’t care for them. All you wanted was him.

The king growled against your core, vibrations sending shockwaves through your entire body, as you attempted to grind your hips down into his mouth. Still, he did not stop or pull away. He doubled down, as if trying to prove a point– he didn’t need your help to make you fall apart.

The thick muscle of his tongue dipped straight into your core, and your body began to lock up. His tongue curled inside of you, scraping along your walls and milking the sweet taste you back towards his lips. It entered and exited you with precision, fucking you silly with just–

“Sukuna!” you cried, tugging on his hair harder. “Sukuna– please–”

A pitiful whimper fell from your lips as he rose from between your legs. You felt cold without him warming you, but you weren’t able to focus on your complaints for too long. Two thick fingers entered you without any warning, and you choked on your own breath.

“Look at you,” he grunted, almost displeased with the sight before him. You would’ve thought he was staring at you with disgust if you didn’t see the way his tongue shot out around his lips to lick up the remainder of your slick on his face. “Rutting into me like a bitch in heat. Have you no shame? No sense of pride?”

In any normal situation, you would have felt self conscious. All you could feel was desire for the king– your maker. Something within you told you that it was only natural for you to be like this with him, unable to contain yourself when he was around. Or maybe it was still the poison in your veins.

“Please,” you whined again, pussy walls tightening over his fingers. You were shaking, so close to a release that was creeping up behind you. 

“Begging, fledgling?” Sukuna mocked, a smirk finding its way on his lips as his fingers crooked ever so slightly within you. Your moans turned choked as he leaned over you, shadowing you in his figure once again. “You don’t even know what it is you’re asking from me.’

“Need– God, I need–”

“There are no Gods here,” he cut you off, his fingers suddenly picking up speed– he was fucking you with his fingers, hard, merciless– you were on the brink of collapse.

Your nails dug into his forearms, hips rocking against his hand. You couldn’t help but fall into his trap, breaking apart into a million pieces. 

It was strange, not having a living heart to be able to feel pounding in your chest. It didn’t make the experience any less jarring or pleasurable. You were certain you could feel phantom heartbeats as you soaked his fingers, succumbed to him in the best way possible.

His mouth was attached to your neck not a moment later, sharp fangs slicing through your skin once more. This time, he did not swallow right away. He did just as you’d done to him, injecting venom straight into your body.

You couldn’t breathe– nearly blacked out at the feeling. Pleasure shot through your body in crashing waves, and all you could feel was him. His teeth on your neck, his hands between your thighs, his tongue on your clit– his tongue?

Sukuna chuckled against you, licking a long strip from your collarbone up to the shell of your ear. You shivered, despite feeling so unbearably hot. A brief flash of fear shot through you– one that you knew he could scent on your skin. 

“You just noticed, sweet thing?” he murmured, voice vibrating through your entire body. He was enjoying this– enjoying your reaction.“You see… I am a greedy creature. I wish to taste both of your delicacies at once.”

Another lick against your clit let you know you weren’t hallucinating. There was a second mouth, one in the palm of his hand. The secondary tongue lapped at you like a man thirsting for water, while his fingers never stopped their assault on your dripping pussy.

He lowered his head once more, dropping to make your blood flow for him again. This time, he clamped his teeth around you so deliciously hard the pain blurred into pleasure. The king moaned against your neck, so utterly pleased as he drank from you. 

All the while, your hips kept rocking against his hand. Your body ached. You needed more of him, in whatever capacity that may be. This was no longer enough– perhaps you were stealing the traits of your maker. You were becoming greedy for something you had never had before.

Your hands trailed down his body, shakily tugging open his robes. He did not stop you, did not pin your hands to the mattress to tell you to behave. He simply let your trembling hands undress him, exposing him for all he is.

With him pressing his body to you, you couldn’t see him fully. But fuck, you could feel him. Every ridge and line of his muscle, every pore and crevice of him. You cursed yourself for not undressing him sooner, and tossed the sinful fabric as far as you could.

It only made him laugh against you– a low, mocking rumble as he finally parted from your neck.

He sat back on his haunches, taking in the sight of you, still quivering against the sheets as he kept his hand between your legs. Sukuna shifted you just slightly, pulling your legs to rest on either side of his hips, and hummed in approval at the sight of you.

You weren’t too sure what he was happy about seeing, but you had your mind occupied with other things. Your eyes traced the tattoos on his body– the dark ink in thick lines that you found yourself mesmerized by. He was covered in them, though not intricate in design, strong and intimidating by default. Everywhere you looked, there was something– even wrapped around the thick base of his cock, heavy and standing proud before you. 

“You won’t fit,” you managed to gasp out, reaching for him all while your legs tried to close, to shy away from him. Not that you could– not with his other hand still fucking you into insanity. 

Sukuna easily forced your legs open once more, almost looking annoyed that he had to do such a thing. “You will take me.” Not a request, but an order. A mere warning, if you thought him kind enough for such a thing. “You will spread these legs for me, keep them open, and you will thank me as I fuck my cock into this whorish hole. Do you understand?”

A soft, choked moan was his only response. A smirk came onto his lips as he lowered slightly, reaching for one of your hands. 

“No… I suppose you don’t understand, fledgling. Too fucking stupid– too much of a newborn to grasp the situation you’re in,” he coos at you, nearly mocking. “Shall your king show you exactly what is expected of you?”

His hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling your hand off his torso and pressing it right against his cock. His hand wrapped around yours, aiding you– guiding you– in the proper way to touch him. 

Sukuna’s eyes fluttered shut, a low groan exiting his mouth as the two of you stroked at him. He was so heavy in your hand. You can feel a vein pulsing against your palm, almost as if it were to burst at any moment. He guided your hand from the base to tip, smearing down the beads of precum that formed right at the slit with each pass.

The low groans and soft pants that came from his lips only made you feel hotter. Dizzier. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, and suddenly you understood the humans that fell under his control. 

This man was breathtakingly beautiful. An alluring, devastating air of grace and authority surrounded his entire being. He demanded respect in the form of fear, and conquered all he reached for. You were a fool to think you would be able to withstand the power he held on you, whether or not he was your maker. This was your fate, written in the stars and sealed in blood. 

His hand around yours only tightened, making both of you move faster over the length of his cock. At the same time, the tongue flicking at your clit only moved harder, with more vigor– the two of you were harmonizing in moans. You writhed beneath him as he knelt above you. Your breathing grew heavier, and you watched as the muscles of his abs began to tighten. 

If he were anyone else, you would’ve thought the feeling of him growing harder, larger in your hand was a trick of your own imagination. Somehow, you couldn’t put the feat past this man. 

“Sukuna–”

“Silence, slut,” he hissed, a moan ripping from his throat a moment later. “I don’t want to hear anything from you unless it’s the sound of you moaning like a bitch.”

There was something seriously wrong with you. The blatant disrespect only went straight to your aching core, and snapped the fragile band that was keeping you at bay.

Just as he wished, your mewls filled his ears as your pussy tightened around his fingers once again. Your body seized, hips trying to move away from him though you knew the action was futile. Through half lidded eyes, you could see a devious smirk fall upon his lips– wide enough so you could see the fangs in his mouth. 

He enjoyed the sight before him– your flushed skin, the rapid rise and fall of your chest as you gasped for air that you didn’t know you were fine without. The twitching of your hand around his cock, tightening involuntarily as your body betrayed every regular function– the tears that you didn’t notice sliding down your face and going into your hair. 

At that moment, Sukuna decided you were too good for the plans he originally had for you. Watching you ravish an entire village or city would be entertaining, but nothing would be able to match the scene before him. His only task now would be doing more to you, to watch you make new faces, to hear you make new noises for him. 

The king pulled his hands away from your body, giving you the rare chance to catch your breath once more. With a bleary vision, you watched as he brought his hand to his mouth– the one that was buried between your legs– and he licked.

Red eyes were focused on yours, never breaking your gaze as he cleaned off the juices you soaked his fingers with. You watched with bated breath as his tongue licked from knuckle to knuckle, swirling his tongue over the tips of his fingers– everything went straight back to your pussy. Your walls fluttered over nothing, and a pathetic whimper escaped your lips as you recognized how utterly empty you were again.

Then, his palm was against your mouth. Not to silence your pitiful cries, but for you to taste yourself on the tongue that spent the most time on you.

His tongue licked against your lips, almost as if to claim you. Then, it probed at the slit, forcing its way through until you finally allowed him entry. You could taste yourself on this mouth– your essence was coating every place that he licked up into, caressing your tongue and even sliding along your fangs as if to assess how sharp they were. You could feel his teeth knocking against yours– and the entire experience only made you want him more.

“Disgusting,” Sukuna chuckled from above you. “Do you not know where that hand has been? Do you not realize how many this hand has killed?” 

You could only moan against his palm, the tongue sliding against yours once more in what you could only describe as approval. It seemed that his spare mouth was more honest than the one on his face.

Sukuna rested an elbow beside your head, fully slotting his body against yours. You could feel his throbbing length against your core– feel the way he slowly rocked his hips against yours to cover himself in all of your juices. He was prepping himself, getting himself ready to finally slip inside of you.

The anticipation made you moan against his palm, eliciting a small, huff from him.

“Needy slut,” he murmured, though his cock twitched against you as the tip caught against your clit. His breath hitched slightly, and the last bit of resolve he had shattered.

His hand was ripped from your mouth, but only in favor presenting you with his wrist. You met his eyes in silent question, and he only raised an eyebrow at you– you could read the question on his face.

Are you too stupid to not understand?

Unlike last time, you didn’t hesitate. In fact, your entire being was trembling in excitement, fangs feeling like they were vibrating in your skull as you parted your lips once more. You closed around the skin, fangs sinking into flesh and muscle, but you couldn’t focus on the rush of his blood in your mouth– not when he finally sunk his cock inside you with one, decisive thrust.

The stretch was large, the fit too tight to make you comfortable. Was that why he gave you his wrist– his blood? You don’t strike Sukuna up for the caring type to allow his fledglings to feed from him a second time in one day. But he had– he synced up your feeding with the slide of his cock, and the pain you should’ve felt from his intrusion was nowhere to be found.

“Fuck,” Sukuna groaned from above you, eyes falling shut. You could only moan in response, refusing to pull your fangs from his skin. 

At the first swallow of his blood, he finally began to move. Not soft, shallow thrusts, either. The king would not waste his time or energy with child’s play. He pulled his throbbing dick all the way out, until just his tip was at your entrance, then slammed right back into you.

You couldn’t keep hold of his wrist even if you wanted to. 

His blood dribbled down your mouth and chin again, and you wanted nothing more than to clean it up, and not waste a drop. Your body wasn’t listening to your mind though. All you could do was hold onto the king’s shoulders, wrap your legs around his hips, and take the brutal assault he was inflicting on your poor cunt.

You could feel every ridge. Every pulse of his cock inside you, every vein throbbing as more of his blood went straight to his length. The size of him wasn’t stopping– fuck, it seemed like it was expanding inside you, filling you with enough sin to even make the devil feel embarrassed. 

“Sukuna,” you garbled, voice shaky. You couldn’t even recognize the sounds that were coming out from your mouth– all of them so broken and warbled. The king, however, did not mind. He only grinned, as if the state of your entire body was something to be proud of. 

“Poor thing,” he cooed, his thrusts slowing, but the intensity increasing. Skin slapped against skin in the most delicious way possible, and he uncharacteristically caressed your cheek, thumb collecting the tears that slid from your eyes. “Is it too much, fledgling?”

You could hardly answer with anything other than moans, and your body rutting up against him, trying to meet him thrust for thrust.

“I haven’t had a harem in a long time,” Sukuna suddenly confessed, and you met his eyes. There was something wild in them, as if he had suddenly struck gold with a new idea. “Perhaps when I am done with you, I will recruit more whores to my bed. You can’t handle me all the time, can you?”

“No,” you choked out, nails digging into his shoulders as you shook your head. 

“No?” he chuckled, hand sliding down to your throat. He pressed lightly, applying enough pressure to make your head go light. “No, you can’t handle me on your own or no, you don’t want to share?”

“Only me,” you cried out, bucking your hips against his again. Your hands dragged down his chest, all but clawing at his skin. Angry red lines appeared from where your nails had dug into his skin, effectively marking him. “You can’t– Not anyone else– they can’t–”

“Slut,” he roared with laughter, hand tightening around your throat more. “You want me all for yourself? You just may regret this greed of yours, fledgling.”

Regret? There was no way you could regret your decision. The thought of someone else taking his blood, the thought of him feeding from another while he ravished them– it made you boil with a rage you’d never felt before. 

You couldn’t articulate a single word to him– couldn’t explain your thought process to him, not when he was sending you straight to hell himself. 

Your eyes all but rolled to the back of your head as the speed of his thrusts picked up once more– fuck. You were already creaming all over him, making a mess down both of your thighs. Yet, at the same time, you felt insatiable. You needed more from him, though you didn’t know exactly what. 

Thankfully, he knew exactly what you were searching for from the look on your face. Rather, he knew what he wanted from you in order to get you to where you wanted to be. You were too conscious, too aware of everything going on even with the poison circulating your system. THe king couldn’t have that. He needed you fucked out, eyes glazed over, and unable to do anything other than take it all. 

Sukuna’s hand splayed across your abdomen, a toothy smirk curling over his lips as he felt the bulge beneath your stomach. Him, thrusting in and out of you wildly, so thick and hard– it fueled his ego to no end. To reward, he pressed his thumb to your swollen clit. Sparks flew across your entire body the second he began to rub tiny, precise circles into the bundle of nerves, sending you straight into orbit. 

You were floating, absolutely shattered beneath him. Your mouth parted in a wordless moan, your nails drawing blood from where you held onto him. 

“There you go,” he groaned against your neck, lapping up at the overspill of blood. His tongue was hot— so achingly hot, but so was everything else. 

His hips didn’t stop, forcing you to ride out your orgasm for as long as possible, even when you began to try to run away from him. 

A heavy grip fell onto your hips, followed by a low growl against your throat. He held you in place on the ruined mattress, his efforts doubling over. He bit down again— another wound. Another open area for him to squeeze your blood out of your body, moaning at the taste of you. 

“Too… It’s too much,” you managed to choke out, so utterly overstimulated.

The venom, the loss of blood, the assault on your poor cunt— you were spread so thin, all you could do was soak his cock and cry about it. 

“Stupid slut can’t even take dick right,” he grunted against you, releasing your throat. “You cum and cum and cum, only thinking about yourself.”

Your only response was a weak moan, hands resting on the sides of his body. You were shaking, trying to grab hold of him with strength you didn’t have. It was humiliating, being reduced to nothing but a hole, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t crave more of him.

Sukuna lets out another moan, something so close to the sound of your name. The length of him twitches inside of you, only spurred on by the violent  fluttering of your walls. Have you really ever stopped cumming? Probably not. 

“Pulling me in… trying to keep me trapped in this fucking cunt,” the king rambled, more breathless than before. He hooked a hand beneath a knee, pulling your leg up and over his shoulder. He turned his head, nipping at your calf, drawing the addicting taste of your blood into his mouth again. “You want it? You want your maker’s seed?”

All you could manage was a frantic nod, incoherent words spilling from your lips in broken troves. Tears continued to spill down the side of your face, and Sukuna kept his eyes directly on you.

It excited him more than he wanted to admit. A pretty fledgling, kept away from the world. Only relying on him for food and pleasure— you were alive only because of him. Of course you had to repay him like this, being the one and only member of his new harem. You’d have to keep him entertained, lest he get tired and look for more. 

Something told him it would take a long, long time before he ever sought out another. 

Bleary eyed, hair sticking to the sides of your hair from tears and sweat, his blood drying against your chin and cheek. It was all too delightful— his poor thrall, reduced to nothing but a whimpering mess at his touch. This is how it should be, he decided. You wouldn’t be able to disobey his orders from here on out. If you did, he’d simply put you back in this position until you learned your place. 

Sukuna’s hips stuttered against yours, his moans getting caught in his throat as your walls collapsed around him. 

“Fuck— FUCK!” he nearly roared, slamming himself as deep as he possibly could within you. 

Thick, hot cum flooded inside of you. You cried out— he was so deep, the tip of his cock right against your cervix, pouring all of his seed right into your womb. The thought only made him shudder, his balls squeezing and emptying every last drop. 

“Please– wait– please–” you whined again, trying to push him away.

“Whores take what they are given,” Sukuna cut you off with a groan, thrusting his hips shallowly in you, as if he could fuck the rest of his seed deeper into you. “You refuse a harem— you will be the one to bear my heirs. You will take it all.”

You whimpered, more tears sliding down your face as you nodded once more. 

Soon, the heavy, hot breaths came to an end. The king collapsed over you, both of you drugged and fucked out beyond your minds content. 

You don’t know how long you lay there, still dizzy. He softened within you with time, and pulled out slowly. The two of you shared one last moan at the movement, so utterly sensitive. 

Sukuna rolled off of you, draping an arm over his eyes. You rested there, trying to blink away the fuzziness in your vision. The feeling in your soul was so strangely similar to how you felt that night in the alley. If you closed your eyes, you were sure that you wouldn’t open them again.

A rough hand tugged you towards a wall of muscle. Vaguely, you recognized Sukuna’s arm wrapping around your body, keeping you tucked right into his chest. Then, he angled his head slightly.

“Replenish your strength,” he muttered, voice hoarse and deep. His eyes were shut, too exhausted himself to keep them open. “This is the hell you have chosen for yourself, fledgling. You will not feed from any living being, as your morals are too human. You will seek me out every time you crave, and you will owe me a debt each time you feast.”

Fear should’ve rang through your entire body. You should’ve been running out into the night, or even into the sun. Having to rely on your maker– the King of Vampires– to just be able to make it through the day? Those with sane minds would not allow themselves this fate.

Unluckily for you, you still had no grasp of your consciousness. You still floated in euphoria from the pleasure he brought onto your body in the form of venom and sex, and you couldn’t help yourself as your lips parted, and you leaned right into him.

Blood flowed freely in your mouth again– the sweet taste of iron and honey. You could cry at the delicacy, swallowing down each mouthful with a soft moan. Sukuna’s arms wrapped only tighter around you, a hand tangling into your hair just as he did the first time you fed from him. You sealed your devotion to him with blood, and the king could only hum in approval as he let your venom wash over him again.

sukuna taglist: jjk taglist: *** to be elgible for my taglists, please be sure to have your age somewhere on your profile :)

Bucky never saw this coming.

After years of being a super-soldier, he thought he finally had it all figured out; the unlimited stamina, the lack of fatigue, and the sheer strength and muscle that the average person couldn’t obtain in two lifetimes of effort.

But Hydra’s serum never came with a handbook on side effects. Bucky never imagined he’d encounter anything like this—until he met you.

You were the first woman Bucky had dated since coming out of cryofreeze, and he was damn well going to make sure you were the last. Being with you made him open up both emotionally and physically. He let you into his heart and, well... you made the mistake of letting him between your legs.

The first few times you had sex, you assumed his uncontrollable trembling and heavy breathing were just nerves. After all, it had been decades for him. But even buried deep inside you, he always made no effort to move. His muscles strained and his face twisted into a grimace, as if it were taking every ounce of his will just to hold back.

Hold back on what, exactly?

At the time, you didn’t know yet.

“Bucky,” you whispered, resting both hands on his shoulders.

He hovered above you, eyes half-lidded, his bare chest heaving as his strong arms caged you against the mattress. “We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready. We can take our time. It’s okay.”

“No. It’s not that I’m not ready,” Bucky let out a low, agitated groan. “I’m more than ready, doll. I just—fuck. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

You frowned slightly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his face. “You’re doing great, honey. Just… move your hips. Create a little friction, like this—”

You began to rock your hips up against him. Bucky’s head dipped, his arms nearly giving out as he threatened to collapse on top of you. The feel of your tight, silky walls rubbing against him was clearly more than he could handle.

“Fuck—Jesus, baby!” he barked out, his hips twitching involuntarily as he rutted even deeper into you. “Careful—shit, I’m gonna cum if you keep moving like that—”

“I know, baby,” you encouraged. “I want you to cum.”

When your boyfriend—who’s a literal super-soldier—is a panting, trembling mess on top of you, eyes rolled back and babbling filthy words, how could you possibly stop?

Especially since, despite being together for a while, you had yet to actually see him cum.

Determined, you wrapped your legs tight around Bucky’s waist. The sudden movement caused him to lose his balance and topple fully onto you, his weight pressing you into the bed as his cock pushed even deeper. A broken moan tore from your throat as you felt him sink more inside, rocking your hips rhythmically against his.

“Shit, baby—this isn’t good—” Bucky babbled, his hips slowing their movement as he rocked lazily against you. “Fuck… I’m—”

You felt your heart leap into your throat. Every time Bucky was close to cumming, he pulled out at the last second and never let himself finish the job. He’d always excuse himself and run to the bathroom, never saying what for—but he’d always come back with his shoulders a little less tense.

It didn’t take more than one brain cell to piece together that he was finishing on his own in there.

But now, with your legs clamped tight around his waist, you weren’t going to give him the opportunity.

You squeezed your legs tighter, your cunt clenching around his shaft as you felt him pulse. Bucky groaned, his nose nuzzling into the crook of your shoulder as his whole body began to shudder and shake against yours.

“Baby, I—I can’t—” Bucky moaned. “I’m gonna cum inside you. I can’t… need to pull out!”

“It’s okay, Buck,” you reassured him against his ear, your hands rubbing up and down his broad back. “I’m on the pill. You can cum inside, baby.”

“Fuck—no, that’s not it…” Bucky grunted, his voice breaking as his breathing grew even heavier. “Fuck… baby. I can’t cum inside you—you can’t take it.”

“Bucky, just do it,” you groaned, ignoring his warning as you ground your hips up one more time.

You didn’t care about his excuses.

All you wanted was to finally feel him come undone inside you.

“Cum inside me, Bucky. I want to feel you. It feels too good to stop now.”

He let out a panicked, strangled sound, his metal hand clenching the bedsheets so hard the fabric began to tear. He tried to lock his arms to push himself up, desperate to pull out before it was too late, but you weren’t having it. You shifted your hips, tilting your pelvis just right to catch the head of his cock, locking your legs tighter around his waist and pulling him back in.

He moaned loudly as he sheathed back into you, the sensation of your tight cunt deliciously squeezing his shaft making his mind go dizzy.

“Wait—baby, no!”

Bucky arched his back as his cock pulsed and throbbed, his head snapping back as his eyes rolled into his head. The wet heat hit your cervix, making you gasp, but it didn’t stop there. He just kept coming, and coming, and your legs felt like jello around him as he kept pumping you full.

Bucky’s body spasmed, his muscles bunching and twitching as the super-soldier serum’s side effect made itself known. He was absolutely flooding you, filling you deep. You felt like you were drowning inside, the hot, thick weight of him filling every spare inch of you. It was too much for your body to hold—the excess began to spill out, slicking your thighs and the bedsheets beneath you as he continued to pulse and pour into you.

He let out a long, broken moan, finally collapsing against your chest as a trembling, sweaty mess.

He looked completely mortified, refusing to look at you as if he expected you to shun him or push him off in disgust.

“I told you,” he rasped, his voice shaky. “I… I’m sorry. Fuck. Let me grab a towel to clean you up—”

“Bucky, wait—”

Before you could even tell him to stay, he quickly scrambled off the bed. He fumbled for his boxers, pulling them up as he ran for the bathroom in a hurry.

While you waited for Bucky to return, you flopped back onto the bed and let out a disbelieving breath. You propped your legs up, tilting your head down to see the “damage” he was so painfully ashamed of—and your heart skipped a beat.

You were a total mess.

His cum was dripping down to your navel from when he had desperately tried to pull away, trailing down to your mound and between your folds. When you lifted your leg a little higher, your cunt made an embarrassing squelch as more of his seed trickled out of you, staining the sheets.

“Oh my god,” you gasped quietly, eyes going wide at just how much he filled you.

Your face went bright red over the fact that he could produce such a… massive load. It was a testament to just how much the serum had changed him, turning him into something more than human, yet vulnerable in the best possible way. Knowing that his body was capable of filling you so completely—of literally overflowing—was the hottest thing you had ever experienced.

Bucky returned, but he wouldn’t even look in the direction of the bed. He moved shamefully, his head hung low and his shoulders hunched as if he were trying to make himself smaller. He had a clean, damp towel in his hand, and he moved to the edge of the mattress without saying a word.

“Bucky…” you spoke softly, reaching out for him.

“Don’t. Just—don’t,” he muttered, his voice cracking. He gently spread your legs to get to the mess, but his eyes stayed fixed on the towel, never once meeting yours.

As he began to wipe you down, he just kept repeating the same words under his breath, like a mantra of shame. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, doll. God, I'm sorry.”

The towel was already becoming saturated, and he had to fold it over twice just to try and catch what was still sluggishly leaking out of you. Every time he moved the cloth, more spilled out, coating his fingers and the sheets. The more he cleaned, the more he seemed to sink into himself.

“Look at you,” he rasped, his face twisting with guilt. “You’re a mess. I... I literally drowned you in it. I told you that you couldn’t take it, and I still let it happen. I shouldn’t have let it get that far.”

He looked like he wanted to crawl out of his own skin, his movements frantic as he tried to clean you up. He was so caught up in his own head, so convinced that he had done something disgusting, that he didn’t even notice you weren’t looking at him with disgust at all.

You reached out, your fingers gently catching his wrist to stop his frantic movements. “Bucky, look at me,” you said, your voice firm yet soft. “It’s okay. I promise, I’m okay—”

“No, it’s not okay.”

Bucky ran a hand through his hair in frustration as he finally met your eyes. He swallowed hard, his gaze searching yours as if he were expecting you to judge him for what he was about to say.

“It’s the serum,” he confessed. “It doesn’t just make me stronger or faster. My metabolism, my recovery, even this. It’s like my body is constantly over-performing, and working overtime to produce more of everything. It doesn’t matter how much I try to hold back or how many times I go to the bathroom before we start… it’s always like this.”

He looked away, his jaw clenched with embarrassment.

“And it’s not just the physical part. The serum enhances every feeling that’s already inside you. Everything is louder. Every feeling is dialed up to fucking eleven. When I’m with you, and I’m… I’m horny,” he blushed, sheepish. “It’s not just a feeling. It’s feels like a goddamn command. My body just takes over.”

When he finally looked back at you, his blue eyes were watery with guilt, and it made your heart hurt.

“Especially because it’s you. I love you so much, and that love just feeds the serum. It makes me want you so bad I can’t breathe, and then my body reacts by… by doing this to you. I’m a super soldier, doll. I’m supposed to have discipline. But when I’m inside you, I’ve got none.”

You reached up, cupping his face with both hands and forcing him to keep eye contact. You didn’t care about the mess all over your body and the sheets; you just wanted him to see that there was nothing to be ashamed of.

“Bucky, listen to me,” you pressed, thumb swiping over his cheek gently. “I don’t want your discipline. I want you—all of you.”

You leaned in closer, your voice turning into a comforting whisper.

“And if you want my honest opinion, I think it’s incredibly hot. Knowing that you want me so much that your body literally overflows. It makes me feel wanted in a way I can’t even describe—”

Bucky flinched slightly, his face getting even redder. He broke contact by looking down at the sheets in denial. “You’re just saying that to be kind. You’re covered in me, doll. I ruined the bed. I practically drowned you. There’s nothing ‘hot’ about losing control like a—” he grimaced, “—pervert.”

“Okay…” you took a careful breath, trying for a different angle. “What if we found a way to make you feel more in control? Something to try to contain it?"

He glanced at you, wary. “Like what?”

“We could start using condoms,” you suggested softly. “The heavy-duty kind. It would catch everything, Bucky. It stays inside the latex, so there’s no mess, and no reason for you to feel like you have to run to the bathroom the second you’re done. Then after we have sex, we could just lay together instead of having to worry about staining the sheets. Would that make you feel more comfortable?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart.”

“We could at least try it?”

Bucky stayed quiet, his eyes drifting down to the towel in his hand. You could see the gears turning as he considered the idea of a physical barrier—something to keep his “situation” under wraps so he could focus on you instead of his own anxiety.

But the truth was—he hated that he even had to consider this.

Internally, every heightened cell in his body recoiled at the idea of a barrier—even if it was something as flimsy as a condom.

The serum didn’t just make him produce more; it made him feel more.

Every nerve ending made him sensitive, making the sensation of being inside you an all-consuming experience. His mind couldn’t fathom putting a layer of latex between himself and your warmth. He lived for the feeling of your tight walls clenching around him, the friction of skin-on-skin, and the way he could feel every internal pulse of your climax against his own. To him, a condom felt like a cage, a dulling of the one thing that made him feel truly alive and connected to his humanity.

But when he looked down at the towel—stained with the evidence of his own lack of control—the shame came roaring back harder.

He couldn’t keep doing this to you— drowning you, staining everything, making the room reek of sex, and then hiding in the bathroom like a pathetic, wounded animal.

“Yeah,” he lied, forcing a smile. “Yeah, doll. If that makes you feel better… if it keeps things cleaner… then we’ll use ‘em.”

He reached out and squeezed your hand, his metal fingers careful and gentle, hiding the fact that his body was already mourning the loss of the direct contact he craved. He’d trade his own pleasure for a bit of his dignity back if it meant he didn’t have to see you covered in his ‘freakish’ excess ever again.

“We’ll try it your way,” he whispered, leaning in to press a lingering, bittersweet kiss to your forehead. “Whatever it takes to keep me from making a mess out of you.”

A few days had passed, and the heavy-duty box of condoms sat on the nightstand like a silent mediator between his shame and your desire.

Now, with the lights dimmed, Bucky was over you again. But everything felt wrong. To his enhanced senses, the thin layer of latex felt like a suit of armor. He was moving into you, but the friction wasn’t the same. He couldn’t directly feel the small flutters of your muscles or the exact texture of your silkiness that usually drove him mad.

It was driving him towards a different kind of frustration—a sensory deprivation that made him groan in irritation.

“You okay?” you asked softly through a moan as he rutted into you.

“Fine,” he grunted, his thrusts diving deeper into you, desperate for that satisfaction.

Bucky grabbed your thigh, hiking your leg over his shoulder as he repositioned himself. One strong, flesh arm tensed next to your head while the other whirred in its vibranium casing. He angled your hip so he could fuck even deeper into you, your back arching as the tip of his cock hit your sweet spot.

“Oh, fuck! Bucky—!”

“Fuck,” Bucky rasped, his hips moving at an uneven, frantic pace. “If you keep crying out like that, I’m gonna cum.”

The condom suddenly felt excruciatingly tight, stretching to its limit as he felt himself begin to pulse. His body shuddered as his cum started to balloon the latex; the sensation of that extreme stretch made him panic.

He couldn’t stay inside. The pressure was simply too much.

The rubber wasn’t going to hold.

“Shit—I can’t—”

You felt his hips pull away, and you wrapped your arms tighter around his back, whimpering as you tried to hold him, but it was no use. “Buck—stay inside, please—”

And with a groan, Bucky pulled out at the last possible second.

He collapsed onto his knees between your legs, his breath ragged and hitching desperately. The condom was dangerously full, the reservoir tip engorged and already starting to seep at the base from just pumping it full.

He couldn’t stop. His hands flew down, his fingers—both vibranium and flesh—wrapping around himself over the slipping latex. He began to stroke himself with quick, heavy pumps, the sensation of cumming so much making him painfully sensitive—his body couldn’t help but crave more. His back arched, and he gasped as he watched his own seed continue to flood the condom, spilling over the rim and coating his knuckles as it dripped down on the bed.

You could only pant, watching him finish himself off right in front of you.

He looked like a wreck, his eyes rolled back and his chest heaving. Even with the latex in the way, the release was still so intense, it was dripping out of the condom and making the room smell like the musky scent of sweat and sex.

Bucky let out a long, jagged exhale that sounded more like a snarl than a breath.

“Fuck,” he rasped, irritated. He didn’t look at you—he just stared at his hands, watching the excess drip onto the sheets he had tried so hard to keep clean. “I knew it. I knew the goddamn condom wouldn’t hold.”

You swallowed hard, sitting up and reaching for him, but he pulled away. He didn’t seem sad this time. Instead, his shoulders were shaking with the frustration of himself and the entire situation.

“Honey, please—”

“I knew it wasn’t going to work,” he snapped. His blue eyes were dark, blown out with frustration. “I told you. I told you it was too much for a piece of rubber, and I just fucking embarrassed myself in front of you again.”

He gestured wildly at the mess—the leaking latex and the white streaks dirtying his vibranium fingers.

“I couldn’t even feel you, doll. I was suffocating in that thing, and I still ended up making a mess of everything anyway.” He let out an agitated sigh. “It’s a joke. The whole thing is a joke. I’m trying to make love to you like a normal partner should—trying to be a goddamn gentleman—and I just end up looking like a fucking animal jerking himself off on the bed because I can’t even stay inside my own girlfriend.”

You were starting to get tired of him apologizing for something that made your blood sing, tired of him treating his own body like a broken weapon instead of a source of pleasure. He was so busy being angry at the mess that he was completely missing the fact that you were practically fawning over him because of this.

Instead of arguing or trying to soothe his ego with words you already knew he wouldn’t listen to, you decided to show him exactly what you thought about his ‘problem’.

You sat up and crawled towards him, your legs finding his waist as you toppled yourself over him. Bucky was so caught off guard, so deep in his self-loathing, that he didn’t even resist as you forced him down against the pillows.

“Sweetheart—what are you—!”

“It’s always about what you think, Bucky,” you said.

Your hand reached down, your fingers sliding down his stomach and fingers grazing gently against his half-hard, half-soft, cock. “You’re so busy deciding for me that this is ‘disgusting’ or ‘wrong,’ but you never once stopped to even consider what I think.”

Bucky’s breathing grew heavier at the sight of you on top of him, his flesh hand coming up to hover over your waist, unsure if he should pull you closer or push you away. “Doll, look at me. I’m a mess.”

“Yeah,” you sighed wistfully, taunting. “But not nearly as messy as I want you to be.”

Your hands found the base of the condom, pulling it off in one quick swipe. It popped off the head of his cock, and his dick sprang free, sending the cum pooling out of the rubber and onto his shaft, his pelvis, his thighs, and the sheets.

“Jesus—baby! No! It’s getting everywhere!”

Without another word, you leaned down and took the head of his cock into your mouth, your tongue immediately swirling through the thick, salty cream of his seed.

Bucky’s entire body jolted at the feel of your warm tongue caressing his tip. A broken, high-pitched moan escaped his throat as his back arched off the bed. His fingers tangled into your hair—not to pull you away, but to hold you there in sheer disbelief.

You sucked him deep, your throat working to swallow the heavy pulsing of his cock, making it clear with every wet, hungry sound that you didn’t just want him—you wanted all of him.

Even the parts he was afraid of.

He was trembling underneath you, the frustration and shame finally melting away into helpless surrender.

“Fuuuck,” he whined, tossing his head back against the pillow.

The sound was a complete contrast to the angry, frustrated man he had been just seconds ago. Encouraged by his moans, you swirled your tongue around the sensitive veins of his shaft, lapping at the leftover seed from before.

Because he had just finished, his nerve endings were painfully sensitive and overstimulated. Every wet slide of your lips felt like an electric shock to his system. His metal hand clamped onto the headboard, the wood creaking under his vibranium grip, while his flesh hand stayed buried in your hair.

“Doll, it’s—too much,” he gasped, though his hips stuttered upward in a helpless, jerky motion. “I’m too sensitive... I just... god, I can’t breathe.”

He was hyper-responsive, his heart beating wildly in his chest. Despite his own pleas, he didn’t pull you away—and he didn’t want to.

The sensation of you worshiping the very thing he’d been ready to hide, and the feeling of your mouth swallowing every last remaining drop, was overwhelming his brain. Every time your lips hit the base of his cock, or your cheeks hollowed out to take it all in, it elicited a sharp, broken sob from his throat.

And when you looked up at him— your lips glistening and chin smeared with his seed—and gave him a slow, hooded stare, he felt like he was going to collapse right then and there.

“Shit, baby. Take it out… out of your mouth. Fuck.”

Bucky’s hands shook as they tightened in your hair, trying to tug you away, desperate to spare you from what was about to come. But you were determined, your hands locking onto his thighs to keep him in place.

You had made a silent promise to yourself to take every bit of him, and once the first thick pulse hit the back of your throat, Bucky’s protests instantly dissolved into a moaning mess.

He felt as if his entire body were on fire; his mind and vision spun in circles. The feeling of your wet lips suctioning around the base of his shaft and your warm tongue pressed against the heaviness of his cock was all too much.

He lifted his head off the pillow, watching your throat work rhythmically as you tried to keep up with his pace. Seeing you so dedicated to him—seeing your cheeks stretch and your eyes water as you refused to let a single drop go to waste—did something to his heart.

“Fuck… baby,” Bucky rasped. “Look at you… you’re taking everything.”

As he watched you through hazy eyes, he realized just then how good it felt to be taken like this.

To have his flaws not only accepted, but also devoured.

Eventually, the volume of his cum became too much. You gasped, pulling back as you began to choke on the thick, salty heat, and as soon as his cock was free of your mouth with a wet pop, the pressure sent his seed nearly spraying across your face. It painted your cheeks, your chin, and even caught your eyelashes as he continued to pulse.

Bucky was spent, his muscles twitching as his chest heaved. “Fuck.”

He should have felt ashamed for cumming too much again. He should have ran to the bathroom like he always did, grab a towel, and clean you up.

But as he watched his seed slowly trail down your cheek—a thick white contrast against your flushed skin—he couldn’t look away, even if he wanted to. You were panting, your lips parted and glistening, looking like a beautiful, sultry masterpiece he had personally painted himself.

“My god,” he breathed, his voice gravelly.

Bucky reached out with his flesh hand, his fingers trembling slightly as he cupped your jaw. His thumb moved slowly as he smeared a streak of his mark across your cheekbone.

For the first time, he didn’t want to clean you; he wanted to look at you like this for hours—covered in his love.

“I thought I was making a mess of you.” he whispered, his thumb grazing your bottom lip. “But you look... god, you look perfect like this.”

Bucky’s heart leaped in his chest as he watched you lick your lips, tasting him. Then you gave him a soft yet sultry smile that finally shattered what little defense he had left.

“I love it, Bucky,” you whispered. "I love every bit of you—especially the mess.”

You leaned back slightly, tilting your head as the light from the table lamp caught the white streaks on your skin. “Besides,” you teased, your a little playful and teasing. “Don’t I look so pretty, marked by you?”

Bucky’s breath hitched, a low groan rumbling in his chest at your words. He had never thought of seeing it this way, but witnessing the way you batted your lashes, your face dirtied with his release—it was as if the question had uncovered something dirty deep inside him.

The shy, apologetic man was gone, replaced by a man who wanted nothing more than to paint his partner with his love.

His vibranium hand came up to slide behind your neck, his cool fingers tangling in your hair to hold you steady as his eyes took in your debauched face. Meanwhile, his flesh hand cupped your jaw, giving it a firm squeeze as he watched your pearly lips pucker.

“Pretty doesn’t even cover it,” he rasped, his eyes dark and possessive. “You look like you belong to me. And if you’re tellin’ me you like it... if you’re tellin’ me you want this...”

He parted your mouth with his thumb, his own seed already slicking his digit as he pushed past your lips. Bucky let out a deep, shuddering exhale as he watched you instinctively twirl your tongue around his thumb, the way your cheeks hollowed out as you sucked on him.

“If this is what you really want, then I’ll give it to you, baby. Every time—I’ll give it all to you. And from now on, I expect you to take it all.” He pulled his thumb back slowly, watching the strand of saliva and seed stretch between his hand and your lips.

“And you will take it all, right?”

You nodded, eyes hazy with lust and love. “I will.”

no words. thank you for taking the time to read my work, and I hope you enjoyed!