#spite fic

Noah didn't smoke. Will did plenty, as did Darius, so of course the two of them took the opportunity to blaze after their respective sets. Instead of hanging with his own band, Noah tagged along. It'd been a long while since he and Darius hung out, plus, who knew when the three of them would be on the same festival on the same day? Though, he would be lying if he said it was his only reason. A high Will was a horny Will, insatiably and pathetically. At some point, he would come looking for Noah for relief, and he expected it; he figured it'd be easier if he just tagged along.

What Noah didn't expect was to be third wheeling Darius and Will's get together. The both of them chattered away, not intentionally ignoring Noah, but doing so all the same. Noah tried to interject, and a few times was able to hold a conversation—and just as quickly got lost again as they bounced back and forth.

Will may not have noticed Noah staring him down, but Darius did. Each time their eyes caught, Darius would raise a brow, which only served to irritate Noah more. He bided his time, watching them pass their joints back and forth—and maybe that's partially his problem. He didn't like the thought of Darius and Will sharing spit or Darius getting even a minuscule taste of Will's mouth, as ridiculous as it sounded—though Noah did wonder if the taste of his dick lingered on Will's tongue.

Before Will fully passed the joint back to Darius, Noah pounced, grabbing him by the jaw and stealing the hit for himself. A muffled, surprised noise got caught between lips and then Will melted into him with a sigh, eager and frenzied. Noah smiled, delighted by his enthusiasm and stolen attention.

He let Will clamber into his lap, resulting in him being pushed back against the arm of the couch. Shamelessly, Will dipped his hips to rut against Noah, seemingly forgetting all about Darius being just a few inches away.

A chuckle rumbled in Noah's chest.

"Is my boy worked up?" He rasped.

Will nodded, pressing his forehead to Noah's and repeated his action. Noah slipped a hand between their bodies to fondle Will, first over his shorts, get him fully hard and even more needy, then inside, make him twitch and beg with silent gasps and rocking hips.

"Showing off, hm?" Noah wrapped his hand around Will's cock, grip firm. "Letting Darius see how much of a slut you are?"

Noah sensed Will tense more than saw it, but he did catch the heated embarrassment creeping up his neck.

"That's okay," he lied, "I know you're a needy thing. So one track minded. You get hard and it's allll you can think about."

Will's face turned cherry red, but he didn't protest as Noah decided to give Darius a full view of his ass by tugging down his bottoms. He stole a quick glance at him, angry to see a prominent tent in his pants.

"He doesn't seem to mind. He'd probably love to fuck you." Noah tightened his grip on Will's jaw. "Is that what you want?"

Noah nodded Will's head for him.

"Why don't you ask him then, hm?" He whispered. "Go on, ask him; tell him how much you need a cock."

"I… I…" Will stuttered.

Glossy and damp, his eyes flicked between Noah's, unsure of what to do. Noah encouraged him with a disingenuous smile.

"You can do it, baby."

"Darius… Can you fuck me?" Will's voice trembled, whether from desperate need or nervousness Noah didn't know—or care.

"Oh, good boy using your words," Noah pecked his lips, feather light. "Darius?"

"How do you expect me to do this without lube?" Darius asked.

Noah tore his gaze from Will to look at him.

"You know how to spit."

Darius blinked, then scoffed. Noah fixed his stare back on Will just in time to watch him gasp silently as spit hit his hole. Noah tightened his hold on his jaw and pulled him closer; a pitiful, quiet whine tickled his lips.

"Keep your fucking eyes on me, understand kitten?"Noah growled, loud enough for just Will to hear. "And don't you fucking dare moan his name."

"Hey Noah."

He looked towards Darius, only to be greeted by spit just below his eye. Darius chuckled to himself before easing inside Will's unprepared hole. In the rush of rage flowing through him, Noah missed the wholly whorish moan that escaped Will and Darius' breathless remark about how tight Will was.

Instead of barking back or mauling Darius, Noah pulled Will into a bruising, sloppy kiss, swallowing down every noise he made, every potential whimper of Darius' name. Despite being in love, there was no love in the way he grasped his throat, or forced his tongue down it. Everything was possession, claiming, asserting that it was Noah who Will wanted, who he needed. Will struggled to keep up yet still chased after him when Noah broke for air.

"Spit." He demanded, holding his hand out in front of Will.

Sheepishly Will obeyed. Noah demanded again, and again until he was satisfied. He slicked Will's cock then wrapped his hand around it, gripping tighter than he knew he liked, and jerked faster and harder than he knew Will preferred.

But Noah couldn't care less. He wasn't concerned with whether or not Will's orgasm would be satisfying. It wasn't about him. It was a twisted, convoluted display of power and control for Noah. A weird, possessive game.

It didn't stop Will from groaning in strained appreciation, or from pressing his forehead to Noah's with a gaping mouth, breath hot and damp, and drool trickling onto his closed lips.

"Feel good?" He asked, not that he truly cared.

Will choked out a breathless, "Yes. 'M close."

"Already?" Noah cooed. "You really are just a needy, pathetic thing, aren't you?"

He sped up, selfishly eager to tip him over the edge. Will tried to kiss him, but Noah grabbed his throat and squeezed. Will's eyes briefly fluttered shut then hazily fixed on Noah's. Noah tightened his grip, tighter, tighter, tighter, taking pleasure in the color change of Will's face—but Noah couldn't apply the pressure he really waned, couldn't press down on his throat until Will tapped from panic or he passed out.

Will tried to verbally warn Noah that he was about to cum, but didn't have time. His cock twitched then shot spurts of thin, warm semen over Noah's hand.

"Oh, that's not very impressive, is it?" Noah chastised. "What a pathetic load. But that's okay. I know this is a lot for a stupid little kitten."

Noah tore his gaze from Will to look at Darius—sweaty, eyes closed, teeth grit and a vice grip on Will's hips that would surely bruise. He didn't look as if he was enjoying himself and that swelled more anger inside Noah. How could he not be enjoying himself? Noah was allowing him the privilege of fucking his boyfriend, his kitten. A free fuck.

Well, if Darius wasn't enjoying himself…

Noah said his name flatly but with enough edge that Darius looked at him—eyes wild with lust.

"Don't you dare fucking cum in MY boy."

Mauled: the only way to describe what Noah did to Will later that evening. The moment the hotel door closed Noah pounced, all sharp bites and teeth, aching fingers and small blossoming purple bruises to match. Will didn't complain, he couldn't, his mouth far too busy and full to have the time. Noah was relentless, insatiable beyond human desire. He couldn't kiss Will hard enough, couldn't get his cock deep enough, and couldn't fill him with enough of his seed.

Animalistic; feral and rabid. Noah did everything he could to mark Will as his territory, short of pissing on him—but with Will laying on the hotel bed eyes glossed over and sparkling with unspilled tears, body dead weight and completely ravaged, covered in semen and spit with pretty little hickeys and teeth marks, he couldn't help himself.

A fully body shudder rippled through Noah as he relieved himself, pale yellow hitting Will squarely on his chest. He wasn't even entirely sure Will knew. He laid there like Noah's good boy and let him.

Before he completely emptied his bladder, Noah moved his stream farther up past his neck, and pissed on Will's face.

It filled him with immense pleasure to see Will not even bat an eye, just taking the humiliation of it all without complaint.

"What a good kitten, just letting me use you as I please."

Pretty Boy Masterlist

Noah Masterlist

Will Masterlist

Darius Masterlist

You had warned him if he kept sending you mirror selfies while he was out on the road that you were going to make him pay when he got home. He does it on purpose to drive you crazy, and while some of them end up on his socials, some are just for you. Even after you tell him that he’s gonna be sorry, he doesn’t stop. He sends them at random times throughout the day for you; one of him fresh out of the shower, a hotel towel barely covering him and hair still dripping on his shoulders. Another, a few minutes before he’s due to go on stage, the dull lighting in the dressing room doing nothing to hide the intense look in his eyes. If you have to see one more photo of him posed in front of some mirror and that little smirk on his face, you’re going to throw your phone out the window.

You don’t tell him that you have anything planned. Honestly, he’s a little surprised when he comes home and finds most of the apartment the two of you share is dark. It’s not that late and normally, you’re waiting for him. You still are, but not in the living room. Darius finds you in the bedroom, sprawled out on your bed. He leans in the doorway and watches you for a few minutes while you pretend to ignore him. You’re scrolling through your phone, wearing one of his t-shirts and not much else, feet kicking idly in the air. Before you bother to acknowledge him, he sees the mirror by the dresser. That definitely wasn’t there before he left for tour.

“Bought something new?” he asks, almost innocently.

“It’s for you,” you say, tossing your phone aside and sitting up. “Why don’t you come over? Look at it a little closer.”

He doesn’t know the game, but he’s always willing to play. Walking further into the room, he steps up to the mirror. It’s taller than him, almost to the ceiling with a heavy black frame. You slip off the bed and step up behind him, feeling him breathe in deeply as you wrap your arms around his torso and peek around him.

“Take off your clothes for me,” you say. He starts to say your name, but you cut him off, shaking your head. “You wanted to send me a bunch of slutty selfies while you were gone, and I told you I was going to make you pay when you got back. So go ahead and do that for me.”

Darius meets your eyes in the mirror as you step off to the side. The corner of his mouth tilted up when you’d said slutty selfies so he’d known exactly what he was doing. You wait him out and eventually he gives in and takes off his clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor. You resist the urge to touch him, instead walking a half circle around him until you’re on his other side.

“Kneel in front of the mirror.”

This time, he turns to look at you, but you only cross your arms over your chest and wait. He sinks down to his knees in front of the mirror like you instructed, and you step up behind him, running your fingertips along his shoulders. You can feel him shudder beneath your touch, and you reach around to drag your fingers up and down his sternum. Darius tips his head back against you, keeping his eyes on your reflection as you touch him.

Bending over him, you place a kiss against the edge of his jaw. “Touch yourself for me?”

His breath draws in sharply, and when you glance down his torso you can see that he’s already half hard just from kneeling for you. Straightening back up, you watch as he reaches down to take himself in a loose fist, stroking from base to tip slowly. You keep your hands on him, light touches that make him shiver. When you tell him to stop, he gasps out a curse, but takes his hand off his cock. You reach down and bring his palm up to your mouth, spitting in it before telling him to continue.

“More,” he begs as he strokes himself faster, the added slick making the sound more prominent.

“More?” You give a teasing edge to the word and he clenches his jaw. “I don’t know, I think you’re doing good all by yourself.”

But you know what he wants and you thread your fingers into his hair, tilting his head back against your stomach. He lets out a sound that is half moan, half whine, and opens his mouth for you to spit onto his tongue. You run your thumb over his lower lip before using your hold on his hair to make him look in the mirror again.

“You’re gorgeous like this, you know?” you don’t expect an answer, and he only hums and turns his head to press his mouth against your palm, kissing it softly. He’s rocking up into his fist, tightening his grip and speeding up his strokes, and your eyes bounce between his cock and his face in the reflection of the mirror. “Okay, stop.”

Darius lets out a disbelieving noise. “Why—”

You give his hair a little yank and he moans, doing what he’s told. You can see the way he’s tense all over and his cock twitches under your gaze. He looks as if he wants to beg you to let him continue, but he keeps silent, jaw clenching.

“Okay, go on.”

He lets out the breath that he was holding, immediately taking himself in hand again. You don’t tell him how so he goes right back to the hard, fast strokes from before. Each twist of his wrist leaves him gasping for air, and you let him go like that for a few minutes before you’re telling him to stop again. He chokes out a noise that sounds suspiciously like a sob and you let go of his hair before walking around to stand in front of him.

Looking up at you, Darius waits with his hands on his thighs, clenching and unclenching until you give him the go ahead again. Only this time you don’t, not right away. Reaching up beneath your shirt, you hook your fingers into the sides of your panties and tug them down. He tracks the movement greedily, and he must think that you’re going want to fuck. But instead, you pick them up and drop them in his lap.

“That’s not fucking fair,” he groans, tipping forward to press his face against your thigh. “Babe, c’mon…”

“What are you waiting for? Keep going.”

Growling under his breath, he wraps the fabric around his fist before he starts stroking himself again, rough and uncoordinated. You can’t even feel bad for exploiting one of his weaknesses. He moans into your skin, leaving little kisses along your upper thigh every now and then. When he tries to get his head beneath the shirt you’re still wearing, you laugh breathlessly and pull his head back.

“Not yet baby, you’re gonna come for me first.”

Darius’ brow furrows in concentration and you can’t help but kneel down in front of him, getting a closer look as he fists his cock with your underwear. You can't help but kiss him and he kisses back, absolutely filthy. The harsh gasps he's letting out against your mouth are music to your ears and you keep kissing him until you can't breathe anymore, only to stop just enough to suck in air before kissing him again. Darius comes like that, his free hand fisted in the front of your shirt to keep you close. 

“Yeah,” he mutters against your lips, “That really taught me my lesson.”

Before you can say anything he’s grabbing you by your hips and yanking you across his lap. He’s dropped your panties but his fingers are still slick with his come and he slides his hand between your thighs. He wastes no time curling two fingers into you and you gasp, trying to rise up on your knees, hips rolling down onto his hand. His thumb rolls in tight circles over your clit and you slump forward to press your face into his shoulder. He's the only one who's ever been able to get you this close this fast and he knows it, he's always proud of how fast he can make you come, wringing every bit of pleasure out of you that he can until you're begging for mercy. He's always so good for you. 

You fist your hands in Darius’ hair again, tugging his mouth back to yours and you feel your orgasm right there, just out of reach.

"You're gonna fucking kill me," he mutters against your mouth and you clench around his fingers. "Come on angel, give me my reward."

That alone is enough to make you come and he works you through it, fingers sliding through your folds until you reach down to grab his wrist. Darius pulls back to pepper kisses along your cheeks and you smile helplessly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“So you don’t like my slutty selfies?” he asks finally.

Narrowing your eyes, you reach back to give his hair a yank. “Zip it.”

“Yes ma’am.” he murmurs before tipping back onto the floor and pulling you across his chest.

⇉ taglist

@ladyveronikawrites @circle-with-me @deathblacksmoke @dominuslunae @rumoured-whispers @cookiesupplier @kinseysucks @collapsedglasshouses @thatchickwiththecamera @th4t-em0-k1d @blackveilomens @illmakeyousaywow @kait16xo @nocturnalheathen @darksigns-exe @malice-ov-mercy

  Carefully Odrune lowers herself to her knees at the foot of the altar. Closing her eyes, she listens as the blood trickles down her spectral form. The droplets of blood mimicking the familiar sound of water on stone. She recites the mortalitasi chants for the dead, in time with the rhythms around her.

As she calls upon the blessings of the veil, she begins to feel a familiar presence surrounding her. Chills run down her spine as it passes through her, taking her breath with it. Rune gasps for air, opening her eyes to find the source of the presence. Before her stands a demon, one she hadn’t encountered before. 

They towered over her, even as they crouched at the head of the table deeply inhaling the scent of her own deceased corpse. Taloned claws begin the meander over the body, and she takes in the sight of the creature. Disheveled feathers cover the upper half, with raw grey skin exposed further down. She captures the sight of massive wings barely able to fit in the dark chamber they occupy, even tucked away as they are now.

“What the fuck,” she can barely get the words out before she is moving on instinct alone. She grabs the largest blade on the altar, pointing it at the creature.

“Smells like rot,” the demon croons, “and incense.”

“Who-” She can barely speak as the familiar voice shakes her.

“Don’t you recognize me, little Rook?” The creature chuckles darkly before moving toward her, slowly coming around the table.

Her blood runs cold as the pieces fall into place. The wings, the feathers, the emanating violet magic dripping from them.

“Spite?” She asks, her voice just above a whisper.

“Finally you see me.” They say through a pleased smile 

“What are you doing here?”

“You may as well have been begging for me to come, nightmare after nightmare, night after night, no wards to contain it.”

“Why are you here, Spite.” She says their name through gritted teeth.

“I can feel you every night, I can feel it all, the pain, the horror,” Talons echo as they grow closer to her. “The desire.”

“Stop it.” The demon only chuckles at her demand

“We knew something was strange with you.” Spite circles around her, looking down with an expression she can’t discern through their sharp beak. “The veil holds you together, woven into your very blood.” They press a clawed hand into her shoulder, as she shudders. “It keeps you tethered here. Not only to your body, but to this place, this memory.” Suddenly Spite rips the claws down her shoulder, watching intently as the blood runs down her. “Such an intoxicating smell.”

Gasping from the sudden pain she turns to back away. Stumbling into the altar holding her body. 

“Spite, leave” She commands. 

“Why would I?” They ask, clearly amused.

The taunting was enough for Odrune. With a new found determination, She lunges toward the demon trying to land the knife in their abdomen.

Spite only looks more amused as she slips the blade underneath their skin. Her eyes widened at the sight.

“You’ll have to do much better than that.”

Suddenly the demon lifts her effortlessly, their eyes burning into her. Spite throws her away from themself, landing with her back flat on the altar table. Now occupying the space her own deceased body once lay, the pain is blinding.

Initially the shock of the impact hits her, taking her breath away and leaving her gasping for air. Soon after comes the heat. The blood itself was warm, almost soothing, as it dripped from the wounds. Her skin itself was cold, her body felt weak. As she tries to regain an awareness of her surroundings, she makes out the shape of Spite approaching the altar through the agony. Next came the burning. Her veins began to light a fire under her skin as they run dry.

Before she could fully comprehend the scope of her pain, Spite had already begun to broaden it. She felt the demon mount her. Odrune struggles weakly against them, their talons holding her firmly in place. Fighting and struggling against the weight, she whimpers as she realizes it was hopeless. She’d had this nightmare a thousand times. This was the first time she had truly felt the pain of it.

“This is what you do night after night? Torture yourself?”

“Fuck you.” The words were weak and pitiful. Spite delighted in watching the struggle. 

“Always so sure of yourself in battle. What a treat to see this.” Spite takes her bloody hand into theirs, bringing it up to their face. The demon greedily inhales the scent of her blood, relishing in it. 

Watching in abject horror, Rune is frozen in place. Spite takes the opportunity the pull her wrist into their sharp beak, as they take their barbed tongue to her skin.

The sudden pain over the bloodletting marks cause her to cry out once more. She tried to pull away, but the shrieks of pain only embolden the demon, as they grip her tighter. Their tongue makes way into the wound. Spite lets out a moan of pleasure at the taste of her that almost distracts her from the pain entirely. The curiosity quickly slips  away as the sensation of Spite ripping the wound open tears through her. She feels a sudden rush of blood pouring down her arm, followed by the raspy tongue of the demon lapping up her remaining blood like a starved animal.

“So sweet.” Spite chuckles, looking at her as if this were all they had been craving.

She could hardly keep track of the demon through the pain. She had never experienced pain like this. The last time she’d felt this much blood loss, she’d lost her life. Emmrich found her mangled body in this very hall. She’d needed several mortalitasi to resurrect her. The rules were different here, as always with the damned fade. She’d no idea how long Spite could keep her here like this.

“Don’t look so frightened, Rune” The use of her given name cut through her sharper than any blade could. “I can feel how badly you need this.”

“How?” She whimpered, unsure which statement she was questioning.

“The veil holds more than you know.” They said with arrogance. She began trying to search the demon’s face for answers, but Spite had already started their next move.

The demon tossed her mutilated arm to the side carelessly, before taking their free hand and plunging into her chest.

The pressure stopped her breathing, as she felt the claws tearing through the soft tissue of her core. She let out a choked gargling noise, as she felt blood rising in her throat. As it flowed out of her mouth, cascading down her skin, Spite carefully licked every drop clean, in a twisted form of intimacy

Spite pulled away, happily taking in her pained expression while ripping her heart directly from her chest. She felt the hollow absence left in its place, as she began to crave the searing touch, the overwhelming pressure.