Some Extra Inches

Thoughts? Read carefully <3 ( 1 week poll) Top two will be made!!

♡ TW. Dead Dove // Read at Your Own Risk ; ♡ WC. 2,087

It always happens eventually.

The slow crawl of boredom, creeping in like rot in the foundation. You recognize the signs well by now—the way the once-interesting becomes routine, how everything starts feeling predictable. You’ve always been like this, your life dictated by a pursuit of fun and knowledge, nothing more. Commitment? Attachment? Useless. Irrational.

Your bully wasn’t supposed to be any different.

At first, he was entertaining—loud, cruel, an absolute monster in every possible way. He amused you, held your attention longer than most. You let him push you around, tear you apart, spit on you, call you every insult under the sun, because it was fun. A new experience. A new sensation. A game where you were the target, and he was the beast hunting you down.

But now? Now he’s getting attached.

That ruins it. The moment someone starts expecting more, wanting more—it kills whatever interest you had. He’s begun looking at you differently. Not just as his favorite punching bag, his personal fuckhole, but something more. And that disgusts you more than anything he’s ever done.

So you’re leaving.

It should be easy. You don’t feel guilt, you don’t feel hesitation. It’s already over in your head. You’ve seen all there is to see—his rage, his possessiveness, his cruelty, the way he shoves you into walls and laughs in your face. You’ve experienced the full range of his torment, cataloged it in your mind like a researcher studying a specimen. You’ve learned him, and now he bores you. Simple as that.

You can already picture how it will go. He’ll resist at first, maybe try to intimidate you, but in the end, everyone lets go if you push the right buttons. They think they own you, until you slip right through their fingers like smoke.

But you miscalculated something this time.

He notices. He always notices. Even when you think you’re unreadable, when your face is a perfect mask of deadpan apathy—he knows.

"You’re acting weird."

His voice is too close, too low, heavy with suspicion and something far darker. His arm braces beside your head, boxing you in against the cold brick wall of the dorm stairwell. You don’t react. You meet his gaze like always—flat, indifferent, unflinching.

"I’m not acting," you say simply. "I’m just done."

Something flashes across his face. Not anger. Not surprise. Something raw and jagged and possessive. He masks it fast, but not fast enough. And in that moment, you realize just how badly you’ve misread him.

He’s not just attached. He’s obsessed.

It hits you like ice water down your spine. And then you feel it—the air shifting. The temperature of the world tipping, as if you’ve stepped into something much colder, much deeper.

His lips twist into a slow, mean grin. His hand wraps around your jaw, rough and calloused, thumb pressing against your lips, smearing your apathy into something mockingly intimate.

"You’re done? That’s fucking adorable."

You should have known better. You did know better. But some small, arrogant part of you believed you could control this, steer him, keep the upper hand. That part is already dead.

You stare up at him. Blank. Detached. But inside, something starts to crack.

He steps closer, your bodies nearly flush. His thumb pushes into your mouth, prying it open like a toy. "Say it again. Say you’re done."

You start to speak—"I’m—"

The slap cuts across your cheek like lightning. The force of it sends your head reeling, stars bursting behind your eyes. But it’s not pain that steals your breath—it’s certainty.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks your head back, forcing you to meet his eyes.

"You don’t get to be done, bitch. You don’t get to fucking leave me."

Your mouth is dry. Your body is motionless. But your mind is alive with terrifying clarity.

He isn’t letting go.

He shoves you backward, and your spine slams into the wall. His body presses into yours, not with desire, but dominion. He breathes against your ear, voice low and trembling with rage.

"You thought you were playing me? Is that it? You think I didn’t see what you were doing—with those dead fucking eyes and that fake little moan every time I put you on your knees?"

You don’t answer. There’s no point. He’s not asking.

"You made me need you. You walked into my life like some smug little freak and let me use you like trash. And now you think you can walk away?"

His hand slides around your throat, squeezing just enough to cut the flow of air, to watch your lips part around a gasp.

"You don’t get to disappear, you emotionally bankrupt little freak. I don’t care how empty you are inside. I’ll fill you."

The threat is clear, dripping from every word. There’s no pretense anymore, no illusion of control. He isn’t interested in fun. He isn’t playing games.

He’s claiming ownership.

"I should have known," he growls. "You liked it too much. The way you swallowed everything I gave you without blinking. Like you were trying to see how far you could push it before I snapped."

He drags you to your knees, rough and unceremonious, one hand in your hair, the other unbuckling his belt.

"Congratulations. You found the limit."

You try to speak—whether in protest, curiosity, or resignation, you’re not sure—but he shoves two fingers into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue.

"Shut the fuck up, you little corpse. You don’t get to think anymore. You wanted to be nothing? Fine. I’ll make you less than nothing."

He forces your head back, looking down at you with pure contempt and something worse—longing.

"You belong to me now. Not because you want it. Because I fucking said so."

You should be screaming. Crying. Running.

But all you can do is kneel. Still and quiet. Staring.

The moment stretches. It’s not passion. It’s not violence.

It’s possession.

Your mind catalogues every second. Every word. Every scar he’s about to carve into your identity.

You tried to walk away from a monster.

But monsters don’t let go.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

You’ve never fought him before.

Not really.

You were always pliant. Cold, yes. Distant. Withdrawn. But never rebellious. He liked that about you—liked the way you’d let him press his mouth to your skin and leave marks like brands, even if you never moaned. Never whimpered. Never begged. You’d let him do what he wanted, but you never gave it to him. Not really.

Until now.

Now, you’re shoving at his chest, wrists shaking with the effort, breath short with exertion. To anyone else, it’d be pitiful. Embarrassing. But to him, it’s heresy.

His mouth curls into a snarl, rage rising so fast it chokes him. Because it’s not your strength that matters.

It’s your eyes.

You’re looking at him like he’s nothing.

Like he’s filth under your shoe. Like he’s not even worth the breath you waste on him. No fear. No desperation. Just... revulsion.

That’s new.

He’s had fighters before. Victims who bit and clawed and screamed. He liked them, for a time. But fear always betrayed them in the end. Their bodies sang with it. The shaking, the stuttering, the piss-wet sobbing—music.

But you? Your body lies.

You’re not fighting because you think you can win. You’re fighting because you hate him. Hate the way he touches you. Hate the way he breathes. Hate the very fact that he exists.

It shouldn’t excite him.

But it does.

His hand snaps out, seizing your hair, yanking you backward until your spine bends like a bowstring. He leans in, nose nearly brushing yours, eyes burning.

“You finally gonna put up a fight, sweetheart?” he growls.

You say nothing.

That blank stare is worse than any scream. He wants to claw it off your face. Replace it with agony. With fear.

But you don’t give him the satisfaction.

So he takes it.

His grip tightens, and your body lurches into his. He slams you against the wall, a dull crack echoing as your shoulder hits stone. Still no scream. No cry.

Just that cold stare.

It enrages him.

He wraps a hand around your throat, fingers pressing in slow, methodical pressure. Not enough to choke—yet. Just enough to remind you that he could.

Your pulse ticks under his hand, slow and steady.

He leans in close, lips brushing the shell of your ear. "You want me to hurt you. Don’t you?"

Your lashes flutter, but still, you say nothing. Not a word. Not a whimper. Your body stiffens, but your eyes stay hollow. As if you’re not even here.

“You’re not getting off easy,” he snarls. “You don’t get to die until I say so.”

He drags you from the wall and throws you down. You hit the floor hard, bones aching. His boots thud beside your head, and then he’s on top of you—kneeling, straddling, forcing your wrists above your head.

His belt clinks as he unbuckles it slowly, methodically, looping the leather around your wrists. He cinches it tight until the blood slows in your hands. You don’t resist. You don’t need to.

Your silence is resistance enough.

“You think you’re above me?” he whispers, mouth curled into a cruel smile. “You think being quiet makes you strong?”

He leans down, breath warm against your neck. "You know what I see when I look at you?"

He licks a stripe up your jaw, slow and invasive.

"I see a fucking toy that forgot it’s not real."

You flinch—but only slightly. Barely perceptible. But he catches it. And it makes him grin.

He drags your bound arms up above your head, pinning them to the floor with one hand. The other drifts down, slow and possessive, sliding under your clothes like he owns you. Because he does. In every way that matters.

"I’m gonna break you,” he whispers. “Split you open, carve out all that silence, and fuck it full of sound."

You turn your head away, eyes staring into the dark like you’re somewhere else.

But he won’t let you stay there.

His fingers slide lower, rough and calloused. He’s not kind. Not gentle. You don’t deserve it.

“You're so fucking cold,” he murmurs. “No wonder no one ever wanted you. You just lie there like a corpse, all pretty and blank. Like you were made to be used.”

His fingers press deeper. You suck in a sharp breath, the first noise he’s earned.

“There she is,” he croons. “Still breathing after all. Guess I didn’t break you yet.”

Your body twitches under him, muscles locking. But still no begging. No pleading. Just that awful, suffocating silence.

He hates it.

He loves it.

“I should leave you like this,” he hisses into your ear. “Tied up. Bleeding. Just enough to live. Let you sit in your own filth and think about what you are. Let the rot set in. Let the rats come.”

Your jaw tightens.

He sees it.

“Ah,” he breathes. “That’s it. That little twitch. You hate me, don’t you?”

You don’t answer.

So he slaps you.

Hard.

Your head snaps to the side, blood blooming on your lip.

And you laugh.

It’s soft. Barely a breath.

But it undoes him.

He grabs your jaw, fingers bruising. “You think this is a game?”

You look at him, eyes gleaming through the blood. And for the first time, you speak.

“I think you’re scared.”

His body stills.

That smile vanishes.

You lean in, breath ragged, voice low. “You don’t want me to break. You want me to stay like this—cold. Empty. Because if I scream, if I cry, then it means I’m real. And that scares you, doesn’t it?”

His grip tightens.

But your eyes don’t waver.

“You want a doll,” you whisper. “But I’m not one.”

Something snaps.

He tears at your clothes, shredding fabric. Marks bloom across your skin as he claws at you, teeth scraping, hands punishing. But now, your breath hitches. Your body moves.

And that makes him furious.

He rips you up into his lap, arms like iron around you. He drags your mouth to his, biting until you taste blood.

“You’ll remember this,” he growls. “You’ll remember what I did to you. What I made you.”

You smile through the blood. “Already do.”

He doesn’t stop.

Not until the silence is gone.

Not until you’re screaming.

Not in fear.

But in pleasure.

And that’s what scares him most.

Because now—

Now he’s the one who’s lost control.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

♡ List of Fandoms and Characters.

♡ Note. Due to Tumblr policy, all characters are all of age.

Ace Attorney: N/A

Arcane: N/A

Blue Lock: Michael Kaiser, Shidou Ryusei, Yoichi Isagi

Boku no Hero Academia: Dabi, Katsuki Bakugo

Brutal: Satsujin Kansatsukan no Kokuhaku: N/A

Death Note: N/A

Demon Slayer: Sanemi Shinazugawa

DC: Damian Wayne

Dishonored Series: N/A

Genshin Impact: Childe, Scaramouche

Haikyuu!!: Hajime Iwaizumi, Yūji Terushima

Honkai Star Rail: Blade, Boothill

How to Live as an Illegal Healer: N/A

Hunter x Hunter: Uvogin

I'm Not That Kind of Talent: N/A

Jujutsu Kaisen: Naoya Zen'in, Ryōmen Sukuna

Kill The Hero: Park Yong-Wan

Love and Deepspace: N/A

Mobile Legends: Bang Bang: N/A

MONSTER: N/A

Naruto Shippuden: Hidan, Zabuza Momochi

One Punch Man: Suiryu

Reverend Insanity: N/A

TOUCHSTARVED: Vere

Undertale Multiverse (Human AU): Bill! Sans, Dust! Sans, Fresh! Sans, Ink! Sans, Killer! Sans, Nightmare! Sans, Shattered Dream! Sans, Underfell! Papyrus, Underfell! Sans, Undertale! Chara

Wuthering Waves: Scar

Your Throne: N/A

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of The Red Ledger (TRL): Stained in Lust, Written in Blood. Thank you.

Official TAG LIST of “The Red Ledger”: @save4h , @rofkshinee , @songbirdgardensworld , @yanderedrabbles , @xileonaaaa , @neuvilletteswife4ever

Test-Phase TAG LIST of “The Red Ledger”: @imnotabot28 , @han11dh , @loserworld , @esthelily

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ For Reader-Inserts. I only write Male Yandere x Female (Fem.) Reader (heterosexual couple). No LGBTQ+:

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.

♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World.

♡ Book 4. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams.

♡ Library MASTERPOST 1. The Librarian’s Ledger: A Map to The Library of Forbidden Texts.

♡ Notice #1. Not all stories are included in the masterpost due to Tumblr’s link limitations. However, most long-form stories can be found here. If you're searching for a specific yandere or theme, this guide will help you navigate The Library of Forbidden Texts. Proceed with caution

♡ Book 6 [you are here]. The Red Ledger (TRL): Stained in Lust, Written in Blood.

♡ Notice #2. This masterlist is strictly for non-con smut and serves as an exercise in refining erotic horror writing. Comments that reduce my work to mere sexual gratification, thirst, or casual simping will not be tolerated. If your response is primarily thirst-driven, keep it to yourself—repeated violations may result in blocking. Read the RULES before engaging. The tag list is reserved for followers I trust to respect my boundaries; being included is a privilege, not a right. You may request to be added, but I will decide based on trust and adherence to my guidelines. I also reserve the right to remove anyone at any time if their engagement becomes inappropriate.

♡ Book 7. Corpus Delicti (CD): Donum Mortis.

♡ Book 8. Malum Consilium (MC): Primordial Hunger.

Lol looved the loki one!!

Ror characters I think would be great at ✨giving✨

Buddha

Hands down. With his love for food, ya know he would definitely wanna taste you all the time for like an hour at least and make you cum multiple times and then clean up the mess himself *wink wink* and the fun doesn’t stop there, you two always have sex right afterwards because your orgasms always turn on Buddha so much, and he knows he’s good, he would constantly tease you about how much you like him going down on you, even in public

Buddha: *takes a sip of tea but it’s still too hot to drink* “Ah crap! I burned my tongue!”

(Y/n) “Are you alright, honey?”

Buddha: “are you worried for me or are ya worried I won’t be able to lick ya all up tonight~”

Hercules

I can’t even! Hercules is such a people pleaser, he definitely makes it his mission to make sure his lover is 100% satisfied, especially to relax you after a stressful day. Although, I feel like he’d be slow to hints, so sometimes you just gotta straight up ask him to go down on you but he’ll be on his knees in an instant right after because he could never say no to the love of his life and he honestly loves it because he loves to hear your moans and feel your shaky thighs around his face gets him so hard all the time, it’s takes you a little longer to reach your orgasm because Hercules will take his time with you like kissing your inner things and fingering you slowly, so normally you finish once but it’s a big one that has your entire body drained afterwards. you don’t have to have sex afterwards, if you want to of course Hercules will gladly oblige but if you’re tired after your climax, Hercules will gladly cuddle you until you fall asleep in his strong arms or he’ll draw you a soothing bath with your favorite candles and chocolates and rub your neck and shoulders in a well needed massage. The entire time your receiving Hercules will be giving you praises and telling you how much he looks you the entire time because he knows that’s what you like.

(Y/n): *finishes*

Hercules: “mm that’s my girl, I love you so much. Can I draw you a nice bath…or does my empress want me to please her again~”

Apollo

The man’s obviously a lady killer so his tongue and other things are golden. But it’s extremely rare that he’ll go down on you because Apollo wants the spotlight on him but when he does he’ll have you finished in minutes and you’ll always beg for more and he’ll deny you your plea saying “a true performer does not cave to the plea for an encore, you should have made the feeling last longer, dove.”

But he’ll always be ready to fill you with something else right after

Loki

I’m not the biggest fan of Loki but we’ve all seen his crazy long tongue so he def would hit some deep spots of yours just right and have you finishing in minutes. But he wouldn’t do it for a long time in your relationship because he was too uptight, thinking it was weird at first until you finally convinced him to try. He was instantly addicted but he would never tell you and he would wait until you beg him to go down on you again before he made the first move. And he would totally do it in public places so most times you wouldn’t have sex afterwards, and he would constantly whine that his jaw hurts hours later.

(Y/n) “Loki! This is the common area, someone could walk in!”

Loki: “then you better hurry up and cum, my pet~”

Hours later at dinner

“Ugh! I can’t eat another bite, my jaw hurts so so much and it’s all (y/n)’s fault! I guess I have to starve.”

You, beet red in embarrassment while Thor uncomfortably tries not to throw up his dinner and Odin glares at Loki as his crows caw in shock

Shiva

The man has three wives so we know he has learned a thing or two to keep everyone satisfied. I feel like he would rock your world with an orgasm that would last for days and that’s a good thing because you have to share him with his other wives so yes he’s skillful but very rarely has you all to himself. And shiva is giving greedy vibes in bed so he has to be satisfied first if you want him to treat you well. And shiva is a very laid back person so it lasts a long time and definitely leads into sex with him and maybe the other wives. Shivas more into naughty words than loving words during the act so he’d constantly tell you things like,

Shiva: “look at you… so dirty, like the slut you are, I’m only using my mouth and your putty in my hands, such a bad girl you are.”

Brunhilde

Last but not least. We all know our girl is a total freak in bed so she would run laps around these boys when giving oral for sure. But we all know brunhilde has a dark side so she’ll definitely be going down on her partner but pull away before they finish and demand they earn the right to orgasm. Hilde could finish you in seconds but chooses to have you wiggling for as long as she pleases. And she also has no problem using her skills to win an argument.

“Be a good girl/boy and have this place spotless when I get back or you’ll be empty and alone tonight.”

karaoke session

𝓗𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐓 . . . 🐾 ( 18+ )

pairings : kazutora x fem!reader

content . . breeding king, big d tora :(( , jealous sex, rough treatment, pet names, nip play, marking, choking, mean tora 🙁!! Praising

this all started because kazutora couldnt help but to be clingy and attached to you.. his harsh thrust meeting with your ass as loud plapping sounds would echo the room, moans and mewls could be heard from your mouth as his lanky pale hands wrapped around your neck making you gasp as the flashlight from his phone would be shined onto your tight hole taking this thick cock, it hurted so good but so bad at the same time you hated when he was rough with you he knew that you could barely talk half of his cock you hated how easily he got jealous just because some lousy guy from some random store was cat calling you, your moans got louder and louder as each thrust went deeper into your velvet walls hitting your g-spot continuously.

you were in a new position now having your back facing him in a doggy position “ heh..ya like making me jealous kitten? Yea you like just pissing me the fuck off? “ his voice rang in your ears as the only thing you could do to respond to him was to let out a loud mewl and hiccups “ im talkin to you kitty. “ his whispers made you even more turned on its like he knew your body more than you did, his hands playing with your sensitive buds as if he was trying to milk you. “ uh..ugh~ y-you know i wouldnt do that to you kazzyy~ “ you mewled out as his thrust got rougher liking the way you promised him your love “ oh yea~? Tell me how much you..ngh love me momma “ he moaned out as his thrust got sloppier from your tightened up cunny, his sharp fangs biting into your neck making you met out a silent scream “ love you..love ya so much g’nna cumm~ “ he loved the way your moans would get scratchy from how much you screamed just from his cock only. “ wanna be a momma~? Bout time i filled you up and marked you with my seeds~ “ your legs started to shake violently as you squealed your orgasm hitting you harder than a bat “ NGH~ yes!! Make me a mommy! “ you said as he gripped on your waist holding you still as he spilt his cum into you.. maybe getting him jealous wasnt this bad.

YALL THIS IS MY FIRST FIC SO PLS GIVE ME TIPS ☹️‼️‼️ REPOSTS ARE WANTED PLSS..

JJK MEN TWITTER LINKS PART 2

Part 1 here M!list here

Note: added yuki and shoko 😗

○ Gojo Satoru ●

Up against the wall

Loves when you ride him

Movie night turned into smth more

○ Geto Suguru ●

He loves ur ass

Perv!geto loves public sex

Geto loves easy access

○ Toji Fushiguro ●

Fingering and fucking your pretty pussy

Morning sex w toji

He enjoys ur pretty cunt

○ Nanami Kento ●

Bent over his lap

Cumming thru ur panties

soft and sensual sex w Nanami (this is a p-hub link) I love it sm please I just had to add

○ Choso Kamo ●

You let him cream pie you

Professional titty sucker

Choso just learned how to finger your pussy

○ Yuki Tsukumo ●

Strap 😗

She eats ur pussy

Slapping ur cunt

○ Shoko Ieiri ●

Fingering ur pussy after a long day

She loves to try new things on you

Rubbing 😽

saving

Title: Sacrifical Bride.

Commissioned by the very lovely @yanmaresu.

Pairing: Yandere!Hades x Reader (Record of Ragnarök).

Word Count: 3.0k.

TW: Fem!Reader, Non/Con, Forced Marriage, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Emotional Manipulation, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex, and Mentions of Kidnapping/Prolonged Captivity. Not Canon Complacent. I Have Never Met Canon But I Hear She's Very Nice.

The wedding was a solemn affair.

Not dull, because nothing that had your heart beating so violently could ever be considered ‘dull’, and not dreary, because despite the many, many things you could say about your kidnapper-turned-husband, he wasn’t one for bland affairs. No, your dress was of the finest and most vibrant silks, your veil lined with pearls and rubies and the gown’s train long enough to swell and ebb behind you as you walked down the seemingly never-ending aisle, unaccompanied by any escort. Wreaths of shining ivory lilies and blooming chrysanthemums encircled marble pillars, low-burning lanterns casting the chapel in long, wavering shadows. The pews were empty. The only guests were his ghastly servants, and they’d never once said a word to you.

There was no officiant. Hades waited for you at the brimstone altar alone, a gentle simper playing over his lips as he watched you drag your feet and fight the urge to bolt, to run, to do the very thing that’d left you trapped in his arm in the first place. It was tempting, albeit pointless. You’d always been swift footed, but there was nowhere to escape to in Helheim. At best, you’d spend a few days hiding and struggling to survive in the empty plains that surrounded his looming fortress of a home. At worst, you’d find yourself without direction and beyond the reach of his control, hopelessly lost and stumbling through fields of fading dead and gnarled beasts and things that would make the man in front of you look hospitable, in comparison. You tried to remind yourself of that as your body begged you to flee.

As you reached the altar, his smile grew into something that could’ve been convincingly genuine, had it been able to reach the pits of lifeless ice that were his eyes. Rather, the gesture only seemed to add to the coil of dread growing tighter in the pit of your stomach as you stepped beside him, clutching your bouquet to your chest in a white-knuckled grip. He’d let you pick that out yourself, at least, and you’d taken a truly irrational amount of joy in picking wildflowers and trimming roses and breaking every rule of decorum your mother had ever taught you. Now, though, the shadows of his hall seemed to dull your vision-searing colors, and it was difficult to take joy in such a simple pleasure knowing the man in front of you sought to ensure you’d never braid daisies or sleep beneath open skies again, when he was staring you down like yet another precious gem he planned to add to his ever-growing collection. It was a cruel comparison, but not quite as hyperbolic as you would’ve liked.

There was a shallow sigh, a hand brought to the edge of your veil. He toyed with the fabric for a long moment before taking the hem in both hands and pulling it away from your face. If he recognized the terror stitched into your expression, he only deemed it worth a slight shake of his head. “Oh, beloved.” His hand fell to your cheek. “You’re as radiant as the day we met.”

The day he plucked you from your mortal life and dragged you into the depths of the earth, the day he’d forced the awful seeds of that terrible fruit down your throat and promised you would never see another living soul again. You swallowed back your nerves. “Please, don’t draw this out.”

You were lucky you’d fallen into the hands of such a mild-tempered captor. He let out an airy chuckle, turning back to the altar. It was decorated sparsely; an overflowing cornucopia posed in one corner, a standing thurible slowly releasing nauseatingly sweet incense into the stagnant air sitting in the other. Between them was only a bottle of dark wine and two twin chalices, crafted of only the finest bronze and polished until they shined in the low lighting. He filled both to the brim before looking towards you, a glint in his remaining eye as he took a chalice in either hand.

You’d been wrong when you assumed they were identical. Where one had a line of aimless, curling thorns following the rim and plunging down the length of the handle, the other was embellished with roses, abstract and nearly shapeless, forming neat columns across the body of the cup. He extended the latter to you, its contents threatening to spill as you took it in your trembling hands. You’d managed to talk him out of the more elaborate ceremonies he’d suggested, but it was difficult to remember that this was a preferable alternative now that could feel the chill of his wine seeping into your palms.

You brought it to your lips, held it there for a moment, then pulled back at the hint of a more familiar scent than that of his dizzying incense. “Pomegranates?”

“I thought it would be a nice touch.” For him, maybe. He’d always struggled to see things from your perspective. “Forgive my sentimentality.”

You wouldn’t, but you were smart enough to keep that to yourself. When he raised his chalice, you did the same, mirroring him when your own will failed you. “To us, darling.”

You nodded. “To us.”

He took a long sip from his chalice, seeming to savor the rich wine, while you drained yours in a single breath. Try as you might to enjoy it, you could only seem to taste ash.

~

A few vows were exchanged, a kiss pressed into the back of your hand when you flinched away from his attempt to communicate his affection more directly. Finally, he took your arm and guided you back to your shared chambers, lingering in the doorway while you collapsed onto his bed – your marital bed, now, you supposed. You buried your face in the silken sheets, letting out a soft groan. There would be a celebration later on, a feast with all of his many gloating brothers and prying sisters in attendance, but the worst of it was over. You were bound to him, for better or for worse. All you could do was weather the consequences.

You’d hoped he would be kind enough to leave you alone while you consoled yourself, while you took all that you knew and all that you didn’t and recontextualized it with yourself as the mortal bride to the God of Death, but a hand on your shoulder dispelled that fleeting fantasy. With no small amount of reluctance, you pushed yourself upward and turned your attention back to Hades. This time, without the pretense of custom, he didn’t settle for your hand. His mouth found its way to the dip of your shoulder, then the crook of your neck, his teeth scraping against your skin as he pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses into his chosen targets.

When he started to move towards the curve of your throat, you moved on instinct – your hands finding their way to his hair as you dragged him away from you before he could do anything you wouldn’t be able to forget as soon as he left the room. “Please,” you said, not for the first time that day. “I… I’d rather be alone, right now. If it’s all the same to you.”

His smile didn’t waver. “You know that, if it were up to me, I would bend to your every whim,” he spaced the words out generously, as if worried your feeble human mind might not be able to understand. “But we aren’t done.”

Your expression fell. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me. I wore the dress, and—and I took your vows, and—”

“My love,” he cut you off swiftly, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek. “Our union will have to be consummated, eventually.”

You felt your throat begin to swell shut.

“I know that, but—” You laid your hand over his, trying to call upon whatever pale imitation of sympathy might’ve existed in his heart. “—does it have to be consummated now?”

You watched as his gaze softened, as his head lulled to the side in that endeared-yet-condescending manner he seemed so fond of. Slowly, with a painstaking gentleness, he brought you closer to him, ghosting over the top of your head and lingering there, even as he started to speak. “I think,” he started, his voice muffled by proximity. “that it would be in your best interest not to keep me waiting any longer.”

It wasn’t a threat, but it was posed like one, dredged up from somewhere deep in his chest and accompanied by his hand on your waist, nimble fingers slipping underneath the sash binding your gown together. When you jerked back, reflexively trying to escape his advances, he was quick to chase you, to let his softened smile spread into an amused grin as an arm wrapped around your midriff and dragged you, willingly or otherwise, into his lap. “I don’t want to hurt you.” And yet, your safety didn’t seem to cross his mind as his blunt nails bit into your waist, as he dragged you close enough to feel his chest press into yours, to become uncomfortably aware of the stiff outline against the loose fabric of his pants. “If I rely on my own self-restraint for another day—” Another kiss, this one to the tender patch of skin above your jugular vein. “I’m afraid I might end up doing something we both regret, when the time comes.”

“Less than a day,” you pleaded as he buried his face in your neck. There was a blur of movement, the ghost of his touch along the curve of your spine, and your bodice fell away in tatters, the ruined fabric collapsing to your waist. When you moved to cover yourself, Hades clicked his tongue and you froze, letting your arms fall back to your sides. Begging him to change his mind was one thing. Going against him so transparently would only make things more difficult. “Half a day. An hour. I just— Hades, I can’t do this right now—”

“My love.” Swift, blunt, merciless. You’d been a fool to ever think he was one of the kinder gods. “I think I’ve waited long enough to claim what belongs to me.”

Any protest you might’ve had died in your throat.

You’d been a fool to ever think he was anything less than the cruelest of his kin.

You wanted to scream. If you couldn’t run, then you would yell, raise your voice and tell him that he already had you, that he’d gotten everything he could’ve possibly wanted, but anything you might’ve said was torn away and ripped to shreds as his head dipped low, his teeth latching onto the vulnerable skin of you collar bone and sinking in. He didn’t draw blood, but he didn’t have to. A bolt of pure, stinging agony shot from your chest to your core, only dulling as he pulled away with a low groan. “Have I ever told you how much I adore the sound of my name on your tongue?” You felt his hand on your hip, then your thigh, the remains of your dress cut through and disposed of with little fanfare. He gave your bridal lingerie (pure white and so obnoxiously lacy, you’d had to wonder if this was all some sadistic joke as you slipped it on) more attention, his thumb running along the delicate trim before his fingers slipped underneath it, tracing the length of your slit before doing away with the barrier altogether.

Dread and panic dulled your reactions, but it would’ve been a lie to say the feeling of his mouth on your skin had left you completely unaffected. He chuckled as he gathered your slick on his fingertips, two of which were soon pressed into your clit with a brutal sort of precision. “And you tried to play coy.” He teased the sensitive bundle of nerves mercilessly, the patterns he traced into your clit too slow and too fleeting all at once. You wished he wouldn’t touch you at all, but if he was going to, it was the least he could’ve done not to draw it out. “That must’ve been why you seemed so rushed during our ceremony. If you’d asked me to make love to you on that altar, I happily would have.”

Hot, humiliated tears welled up in the corners of your eyes. You attempted to deny it, but a cracked moan slipped past your lips instead as two of his fingers were forced into your cunt and spread, splitting you apart. Your hands shot to his shoulders, trying to stabilize yourself, but he only saw your desperation as an invitation – bowing his head and pumping his fingers into you at the kind of languid pace that left you fighting not to rock against him, not to make up for the urgency immortal creatures so often lacked. “You’re a vice,” he muttered, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear, his tone low and lecherous. You wondered, briefly, if words that fell from the lips of a god could be considered sinful. “To think my own wife would’ve had me neglect her so severely for so long.”

You shook your head. You were married to him, sure, bound to him. But you couldn’t afford to think of yourself as his wife. You couldn’t afford to think of yourself as something so limited, something so purely an extension of him. “I’m not—”

“Don’t try to spare my feelings. I can see that I underestimated just how much attention my little mortal would need.” His wrist quirked, another digit pushing past your entrance and stuffing your pussy full as his fingers curled and ground inside of you. Against your will, you felt a tight heat begin to twist and writhe in the pit of your stomach, pangs of burning pleasure coursing from your cunt to your core. Now, you cried unabashedly, embarrassment and shame burning in your cheeks and fueling the unsteady stream of tears that Hades was so agonizingly quick to coo over, to kiss away as your hips bucked unsteadily against his hand. “What a sensitive wife I have.” That word – that awful word – was enough to earn a ragged sob, but if he recognized the connection, he didn’t deem it worth his concern. “I promise, you’ll never feel so unloved in my care again.”

You would’ve given anything to be able to pull away from him, to be able to shove at his chest and swear to all the gods you’d once worshiped that there was no part of you that could ever feel loved with him, but in the end, he was the one to let you go, to throw you onto the center of his great bed and leave you whining involuntarily at the sudden loss of stimulation. He’d never been one to deprive you, though; in a moment, he was in between your open legs, one hand wrapped loosely around your thigh while the other pulled feverishly at his own clothes. His coat fell away first, then his shirt. You heard fabric shift and metal clink and, in a daze, saw him wrap his fist around something he could not have possibly planned to fit inside of you. Half out of terror and half out of instinct, your gaze flickered from his cock to his face – to the wide, fanged grin he’d been wearing for as long as you could remember.

He moved to kiss you, and you drove your heel into his stomach.

The blow would’ve been weak by human standards, but it caught him off-guard. Out of reflex, he reeled back, and you took the opportunity to scramble off his bed and towards the door, to any part of this forsaken place where Hades wasn’t. You made it a step, maybe two before something caught your shoulder, before your body buckled under a weight greater than your own. You were dragged onto your knees before you could so much as think to slip away from him, your cheek forced against the cool marble of the floor before you could hope to make your descent more dignified. You felt his broad chest press into your back, his snarling lips against the curve of your throat. You wondered if the insult would be great enough to warrant taking your life, but the thought was dismissed quickly.

Hades had never been the kind of god capable of showing such mercy.

“I would’ve made love to you like a queen,” he spat, his tone all manic venom and overdue obsession. “But, if you’d rather be fucked on the ground like a whore, I’m more than happy to oblige.”

You weren’t allowed the luxury of bracing yourself, this time. In one brutal movement, he thrust into you, splitting you open on his cock with the kind of harsh, unforgiving force better suited to a wild animal.  There was no time to adjust, no time to sob, only Hades groaning against your neck as he bucked against you, never daring to pull out completely. Whatever agony his fingers had sparked was now ten-fold. Your legs shook, your body threatening to collapse entirely, but Hades kept your ass raised and your thighs spread, his focus entirely on bucking into you as deeply and as roughly as he could.

It almost surprised you when one of his hands shot to your head, his fingers tangling themselves in your hair as he forced his mouth against yours. You tried not to cooperate, but two fingers pressed into your clit and your mouth fell open in a guttural cry, providing an opening he seemed content to take advantage of. It was a deep, lingering, messything – all tongue and teeth – but his cock ground against something soft and vulnerable and you failed to suppress the wave of pure heat that flooded through your battered body as you clenched around him, as you came undone around the cock of your kidnapper, your captor, your husband. Hades wasn’t far behind, his composure shattering no more than a second after the walls of your cunt clenched down around him. You could only choke on your misery-tinged pleasure as his hips pressed into your ass and he came inside of you – his awful warmth soon tainting every fiber of your being.

You tried to tell yourself that, at the very least, it was over - that he’d had his fill of you and now, you’d be free to console yourself elsewhere, but your hopes were once again dashed when Hades failed to release you, failed to pull out of you, failed to do anything but press himself into your back and trail his lips idly down to the nape of your neck. “Once is a pitiful amount for a king. Don’t you agree?”

You felt his hips move back, then rock against you just as quickly.

“You can forgive me when we’re done, love.”

saving!

𝑪𝑳𝑶𝑼𝑫 𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑬𝑻𝑬𝑬𝑵 𝘍𝘛: 𝑺𝑨𝑻𝑶𝑹𝑼♡

☪︎—age gap, mean teasing satoru, dumbification, overstimulation, possessiveness, creampie, he’s too good at sex, established relationship

"sex with older! Satoru can't be too bad right..?"

“You’re so pretty when you cry,” Satoru murmurs, palm flat against the arch of your back as he pushes in again, slow and deep like he’s trying to ruin you.

You whimper into the pillow, drooling into his sheets with your lashes soaked, mascara smeared all under your eyes. You don’t even care anymore, because all you can feel is him.

He’s big—too big. Always has been. The kind of stretch that makes you see stars when he first slides in, the kind of pleasure that’s way past your limit ten minutes in. But he doesn’t let up. He likes seeing how far you can take it, how stupid and ruined and pliant he can get you.

“‘Toru!" you cry again

“Aww. Can’t even talk right now, baby?” His voice is smooth and a little cruel, and he reaches around to grab your throat, not hard—just enough to make your little brain stutter. “What happened to all that attitude you had earlier, hm?”

You blink, dumb and empty, drool sliding from your mouth when he pulls you up just a little by your neck, whispering right into your ear.

“God, you’re so cute like this. So fucked-out already and I’m not even close to done.” His hips snap hard and you squeal, whole body jolting forward.

Satoru loves this part. Not the way you take him—that’s a given, he knew from day one that no one could ever make you feel the way he does—but the way you fold. Act like a brat all week,always tease him about the gray in his hair or the way he groans when he sits too long… and yet here you are, crying into his mattress because he’s fucking you dumb.

“This is what happens,” he pants, hand fisting in your hair now, pulling your head back so he can see your face in the mirror. “When you act like you don’t know what this dick does to you.”

Your eyes roll. He knows how good he is at sex. The worst part is that he doesn’t even have to try—he’s confident, cocky, and has more experience than any guy your age could dream of. He knows exactly where to touch, how to angle his hips, when to slow down or speed up.

“You needed this, didn’t you?” Satoru breathes, and now his hand’s between your legs again, his fingers rubbing tight little circles over your clit. “Needed me to fuck the brat outta you.”

Your whole body seizes when he hits that spot again, that perfect spot that only he can reach, and you choke on your sob as you cum around him for what feels like the third—no, fourth time tonight. You’re not even sure anymore. Everything’s hazy, glossy, soaked in heat and tears and the loud slap of skin and his voice in your ear.

“That’s it, baby,” he growls, holding your hips so tight you know there’ll be bruises. “You love when I fuck you like this, don’t you?”

You nod, still crying, still moaning, still grinding helplessly into his cock because you don’t even know how to stop.

“You wanna be my dumb little girl forever, huh?”

You nod again, sob out something that sounds like “yes, yes, ‘toru, please,” and he snaps.

“Fuck—gonna fill you up,” he groans, burying himself deep, so deep, and your nails claw into the sheets as his cock twitches inside you. “Gonna fuck a baby into you, yeah? Show everyone what happens when you act like a slut around me.”

You scream. Genuinely scream. Because he’s so deep, so hot, so good, and he’s not even pulling out—he’s just holding you down, grinding his cum into you, whispering sweet, filthy things as you fall apart underneath him.

🚨URGENT🚨

Please stop ✋🚨 you're the only hope to save a child🥺

My son Mohammed is in critical condition after being shot by Israeli drones. He has been taken to the operating ⛺️ and urgently needs treatment outside the Gaza Strip.

I lost most of my family. I'm afraid to lose my son too 🥺 .

I need your help please donate and share, evry contribution, no matter how small, brings us hope in these dark times.

Mohammed deserves to live a happy and healthy life, just like every other child on this earth.

Please Donate now:👇👇 👇

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Donate to Join Us in Our Struggle: Save Our Family from War in Gaza, organized by Ghazal Naseer

‎‏Dear friends, ‎‏My name is Ghazal Naseer, from pales… Ghazal Naseer needs your support for Join Us in Our Struggle: Save Our Famil

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