Eris, 21dark content ahead18+

139 posts

Gaining A New Respect For Yall Who Write True Form Sukuna Bc Keeping Track Of Four Hands Is Turning Out

gaining a new respect for y’all who write true form Sukuna bc keeping track of four hands is turning out to be quite challenging

and we haven’t even made it to the dicks yet

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More Posts from Digital-domain

1 year ago

go find what a fic of ur life would be tagged as on ao3


Tags :
1 year ago

hypothetically…

A fucked up mahito drabble (is there any other kind?)

Word Count: 1300

Synopsis: after you witness him killing for the first time, mahito reassures you in a way that makes you feel much, much worse.

Hypothetically

“If I was gonna kill you…it wouldn’t be like that. It would be much more personal.”

Hypothetically

Content Tags: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. DARK CONTENT. noncon. description of gore/dead body, blood, dacryphillia, hypothetical description of reader being murdered during sex (does not actually happen), fear kink, reader is scared out of her damn mind, biting (accompanied by more blood!), mahito implies that he would be down to fuck a corpse

When you see him kill for the first time, you break down into tears. You’re not sure what pushes you over the edge: the explosion of flesh and blood that spatters the floor of the sewer as you peer around the corner, or the gleeful smile that spreads wide across his face as he looks down at the remains of his work. When you follow his gaze, you can see chunks of skin, bone, sinew - the limbs are still intact, their tattered edges dripping with fresh blood, but the entire torso is blown to bits. You heard the screams moments ago…now, you regret following them.

It takes him a minute to notice you standing there. You know that you should take the opportunity to run back to the place where he left you, to pretend that you didn’t see, but your sheer horror pins you in place. When he does see you, he rushes to your side, and smushes your face between his hands to kiss you. His palms are wet - you don’t want to think about why. “Aww. You came to watch! How sweet.” When he notices your expression, he cocks his head. “There’s nothin’ to cry about, cutie. I’m just having fun.”

You sniff, and do your best to wipe your tears away. “Most people wouldn’t call that fun.”

“Not a person, sweetheart,” he reminds you. He hasn’t stopped smiling for a second, and his grin broadens as he stares down at your face. “You’ve got fear in your eyes…it’s lovely. And so strong that I can smell it on you, too.” He inhales deeply, and his tongue darts over his lips. “You really that scared?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah?” His eyes stretch unnaturally wide, glowing in the dim light. “Why?”

Your hands shake, a black haze encroaching on the corners of your vision. “I don’t know…”

“That’s a lie!” He jabs a finger between your eyes, and pouts. “I don’t like it when you lie to me. You know that.”

There’s a good reason for you to keep your thoughts to yourself. He’ll find them entertaining…and that’s never a good thing. But if he already knows that you’re not being honest, it’s safer to tell him now. Before he decides that he needs to force the truth out of you. “I’m scared because…if you did that to them…” You shudder, and choke back a sob. “How do I know you won’t do it to me?”

“Ohhh.” He laughs, and slings his arm around your waist, kissing you gently on the top of your head. “Don’t be silly. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

You know better than to feel completely relieved. But for the moment, you think you’re safe - until he opens his mouth again.

“If I was gonna kill you…” he muses. “It wouldn’t be like that. It would be much more personal.”

Your heart drops into your stomach. You feel weak at the knees - he follows you as you sink to the ground and takes a seat against the wall, spreading his legs and dragging you between them, pressing your back against his chest. He wraps his arms tightly around your waist, and rests his head on your shoulder. “You’re such a pretty, pretty thing…” he murmurs. “You deserve a very special death.” His tongue slides up your neck, breath hot and dank against your bare skin. “I like you alive, for now. But hypothetically…if I did decide to kill you…” He squeezes you, hard, forcing the air from your lungs. “Yeah. I know exactly what I’d do.”

You stiffen in his arms, every one of your senses painfully sharp. Almost as sharp as the fingernails digging into your sides.

“I’d fuck you before I did it,” he declares, his voice bristling with excitement. “I’d put you on your back so I could see your face. I’d put my hand around your neck, and at the moment you came…” He pauses. “Hmm. Would you prefer me to strangle you, or slit your throat?”

Fuck. You knew he was deranged…but this is worse than anything he’s said to you before. Magnitudes worse. An unintelligible whimper is the only response you can manage.

“If you don’t have a preference, I think I’d prefer slicing you open. I like blood.” He grabs your jaw, wrenches your face towards him, stares intently into your fear-stricken eyes. “Not too much blood, though. I’d be gentle with you. Much gentler than I was with him.”

You follow the line of his hand to the mutilated corpse lying just feet away. You can smell it, the stink of blood and guts and death worming its way into your throat, churning the bile in the depths of your stomach.

“I’d be so sweet…I’d only rip you as much as I had to.” He turns you around and pulls you close, smiling as a fresh wave of tears streams down your face. “So pretty,” he hums. “I’d want you to still be pretty when you died, so I’d be very careful.” You try to hide your face, but his hand latches onto your jaw, freezing you in place as he kisses you roughly on the lips. His other hand plunges between your legs, and clamps down on your inner thigh. “Don’t worry,” he assures you. “I’m not gonna do it now. Maybe not ever.”

Maybe. He’s so casual about it - about holding your life in his hands.

Without warning, he shoves you onto your back, wriggling on top of you and trapping you against the floor before you can push him away. He grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand, and sinks his teeth into your neck, only pulling back once he breaks your skin - after watching your blood trickle out for a few seconds, he darts forward and laps it up, sticking out his tongue to show you the red stain before he kisses you again, leaving a rancid, metallic taste in your mouth.

He guides your hand under his body, pressing it between his legs. He’s hard. As desperately as you try to escape, he won’t let go of your wrist - he makes you touch him, grinding shamelessly against your unwilling hand.

His face hovers over yours, so close that you’re compelled to cross your eyes. “I learned something interesting the other day,” he whispers. “Can I tell it to you?”

He wants you to say yes - but you can’t bring yourself to speak. It’s all you can do to nod your head. You can feel your pulse thudding desperately in your ears, and in your palm.

“I learned,” he says, “that bodies stay nice and warm for at least ten minutes after they die. Especially on the inside.” He giggles. “I guess it takes a long time for all those squishy guts to dry out.”

You squirm instinctively, repulsed by the image that flashes through your head.

“You know what that means, right?”

“No…”

He grins terribly, and presses his lips to you ear. “It means,” he whispers, “that even if I did kill you…even after you went limp in my arms…I’d still have a little more time.”

Your mouth falls open, emitting a gasp that only makes him press harder into your hand.

“Shhh.” He presses his nose into your shoulder, his cheek rubbing against the fresh wound still leaking blood down your neck. “I told you…I’m not gonna do it today.” He raises his face as you thrash beneath him, watching your eyelids flicker, your face contorted with fear. “If I did…I wouldn’t get to hear all the pretty sounds you’re about to make.”


Tags :
1 year ago
I'm Not Sorry For This.

I'm not sorry for this.

I'm Not Sorry For This.

Pairing: Mahito x Fem!Reader

NSFW

Word Count: 2712

Warnings: Yandere, Dubcon, Forced relationship, Implied past noncon, Implied murder (not reader), Implied kidnapping, Oral (f recieving)

I'm Not Sorry For This.
I'm Not Sorry For This.
I'm Not Sorry For This.

Hope was a dangerous thing to have.

It meant that there was some metaphorical light at the end of the tunnel. That, to some degree, there was a positive outcome to your situation - a concept that was the very definition of delusional.

Yet you still had it.

This would not be, by any means, the first time you’d attempted to get away from Mahito. The few “successes” you had miraculously achieved were, in reality, his own experiments on human behaviour.

What would you do? Where would you go? Who would you seek out?

To each of these questions, he gained a bountiful supply of answers, the last of which especially so - growing in size and deformity in an area of the sewers that he had sectioned off specially for you.

If hope didn’t drive you to madness, the moans belonging to the twisted remains of friends and family were enough to fill in the rest, so surely it had to be madness that gave you the idea you had.

Initiating intimacy with Mahito on your own free will.

Perhaps you could argue with yourself that it was bravery instead that led you to consider such a daunting task, but the truth was far more disturbing:

What more did you have to lose?

With plans A, B, C, all the way through fucking Z failing so spectacularly, it seemed the only option left. Even if it made your stomach clench so violently you needed it to stare at the horizon to keep bile from rising up your throat.

Maybe, by some absolute miracle he would let you roam free after you convinced him you had come to return his affections. Escape would come later, you needed to take this one step at a time, but it would open the opportunity for some trust to be gained and his guard to be lowered just enough that you could get the hell out of there. Giving him an inch so you can gain a mile and (hopefully) more away from him.

It was just a matter of actually going through with it.

You knew you were staring, but it wasn’t like he paid it any mind. He was too absorbed in his book - an arm propped behind his head on the pillow while he used the other to lean the book against his knee. His free leg dangled over the side of his hammock, pushing against the ground and rocking himself from side to side. It was difficult to see the title from your position on the floor, but the illustrative diagrams were enough of a hint that it had to do something with human anatomy.

The implications of his choice of literature were shoved into the recesses of your mind as you slowly stood and made your way towards him.

Each step closer was filled with trepidation, and the skin on your hands burned as you wrung them together.

Mahito acknowledged you when you got within five feet of him.

His smile was as big as it always was, the stitches around his eyes slightly enlarged by the ridiculous glasses he wore.

“Hey.”

Your sheepish greeting made him smile wider, and he pushed the glasses up to rest on top of his forehead.

“You were staring for quite a while,” You cringed inwardly at the call out, “Is it because of my new look?”

Your eyes flickered up to the old fashioned cat-eye style frames. They made him appear almost comical, and perhaps the sight could be if they had belonged to him in the first place.

“They’re certainly something, I’ll give you that.”

He giggled. “I think the same when it comes to human eyesight.” He placed the glasses back over his eyes and leaned towards you - his eyes narrowed into slits. “Some of you have terrible vision.”

All you could do was laugh nervously at his playful tone after he failed to look away from you and the awkward silence grew. The bones in your hands screamed in protest as you wrung them further.

“I actually… wanted to ask if I could join you?”

Mahito’s eyes widened slightly - the glass lenses greatly exaggerating the expression.

Inwardly you were dying from how feeble the execution of your request was, but it was thankfully met with relief when his bemused expression melted away into one of obscene delight, and he leaned back into the hammock with his arms in an open gesture.

“Go right ahead.”

He made no motion to move over and give you space, so it was awkward climbing in. There were a few moments where you genuinely believed you were going to flip the whole thing over and cause the two of you to eat shit on the concrete below, but you managed to get your bearings and lay beside him.

Well… really you were half on top of him with your head resting on his chest.

You had been close to him before, but never anything like this. Without the resistance you normally put up, you were able to notice the hollow silence that took up the space where a heartbeat should’ve been. The hairs on your arms stood on end with the revelation, and you did your best to breathe calmly through your nose.

He smelt like death and easter lilies.

You draped your left arm over his torso - your right arm crushed somewhat awkwardly underneath you, but it was surprisingly not too uncomfortable. Your legs were quickly tangled with his, returning to their position as a prop for his book as he began to pick up where he left off.

The sound of his voice resonating through his chest made you jolt unexpectedly, and his amusement bled into his voice as he spoke.

“Since the human cerebral cortex, with its underlying white matter, occupies 75% of the whole brain, its relative expansion is frequently equated with brain evolution…”

Ah, you had been somewhat right in your earlier assumptions.

Your fingers traced lazy patterns on his chest while he read, his voice soon becoming background noise to your thoughts. Every fiber of instinct was screaming at you that this was a terrible idea. That there must be something you hadn’t tried yet, and there was still time to save yourself while maintaining your dignity.

The thoughts were squashed with a moderate amount of difficulty.

You were fully aware of how bad of an idea this was, but you had made your bed and were determined to lie in it.

You could do this.

You had to.

After a few minutes you craned your neck to look up at him properly. The glasses had slid down to the end of his nose, and a small voice in the dark corner of your mind admitted that the sight wasn’t half bad. You waited until he turned his head to face yours before crossing the point of no return - pulling yourself up his body to close the gap in a soft kiss.

You tried your hardest to make it seem real.

It didn’t last long, maybe three seconds at the most with no response on his end aside from his entire body going completely rigid underneath your touch. Mahito’s face held none of the amusement it did before when you pulled away. He reached up and took the glasses off his face, all while his heterochromic eyes searched yours curiously.

“What are you up to?”

It was a simple question that made your blood freeze.

“Nothing, it’s just… ” your brain scrambled to come up with a believable excuse, “I’m tired.”

You kissed him again before he could have a chance to respond, pouring as much affection as you could scrounge up into the action. You released his lips only to speak a few words between breaths of air.

“I’m tired… of pretending… I’m not yours.”

His movements were almost lightning fast. There was a loud *thud* from the book as it fell to the floor, forgotten while he buried his hands in your hair to hold your head in place and deepen the kiss. It was an overwhelming sensation that was only amplified when he flipped you underneath him, semi-straddling you so he had a knee between your legs and the other by your hip.

The force combined with the sudden sway from the hammock made you squeak in surprise, and you felt him smirk against your lips before his tongue entered your mouth.

It took everything not to resist as he explored your mouth with fever - a whine threatening to bubble up from the back of your throat. The intensity of it scared you, but what scared you the most was the zing of pleasure that shot down your spine. You mimicked the action of his hands, threading them through his hair to keep it from coming between your lips and his.

You were trembling by the time he pulled back, lips shiny and swollen and stretched into a grin that held pure unfiltered glee.

“Three months,”

Your brows pinched together in confusion, but your jaw fell open in a gasp when his lips descended on your neck - the action of sensitive flesh being pulled between his teeth combined with the ache quickly building between your legs cutting off any questions you had in the form of a choked moan.

“Five days,” His hands twisted your head roughly to the side, shoving it against the pillow to allow him more access to your neck, “Ten hours… twenty-four minutes.”

The sensation of his teeth sinking into the junction where your shoulder met your neck elected a sharp yelp, but his hands kept you in place as he added another mark to the collection. The pain was short and sweet, quickly replaced with a horrible rush of euphoria that littered your skin with goosebumps.

“I knew you would break eventually.”

There it was. 

The devastating reminder that broke you out of your lustful haze, and you felt the urge to rebel creep back into your heart.

But that was the point, wasn’t it? To have him believe that you were well and truly broken in by his desires? Besides, if you really had been with him for as long as he said… it had certainly been a while since you felt as good as you did.

There wasn’t any harm in enjoying the process, was there?

You pulled his lips back up to yours before you could think about it further. He groaned into the kiss, reigniting the low spark you felt earlier.

With cautious, shaking hands, you skimmed your fingers down his chest, catching the edge of the fabric of his shirt and gently pushing your hands underneath to explore his skin. He had no blemishes you could feel, the only breaks in his flesh coming in the form of raised stitches that twitched beneath your fingertips.

His upper body had all but melted against yours, his own hands moving along your body in their own exploration. You doubted he’d be able to discover more about you, but that wasn’t a thought you wanted to entertain for the sake of Murphy's law, so you relaxed as much as possible in his hold.

However instinct is what drove you to immediately grab his wrists when you felt him raise the hem of your own shirt - an action that was purely done on autopilot.

Granted you did not plan on things escalating quite this far, at least not this soon, but when Mahito’s eyes immediately locked with yours, your breath hitched in paranoia. You could see the dark remains of suspicion still swirling amongst the blue and gray, and you swallowed nervously.

“Can I?”

The backpedal of a question hung heavily in the air, and you could almost see the cogs turning in his mind as he regarded you. The silence stretched on long enough that you began to brace yourself to be called out as the fraud you were until he slowly lifted himself off of you to sit on his knees - never taking his eyes off you as he did.

Relief sagged in your shoulders, and a different thrill shot through your system as you sat up and pulled your shirt over your head, leaving you half naked in front of him.

All your bras had been destroyed some time ago.

The knotted rope of the hammock felt strange against your bare skin as you laid back again, and Mahito’s sharp cackle made you flinch from the sheer volume as it echoed across the vast space of his makeshift lair.

“Maybe not so broken.” He hummed in delight, hunching back over you and running his tongue up your ribcage to encircle one of your nipples. Your head fell back against the pillow, back arching when his lips closed around the newly hardened bud.

It felt like his hands were everywhere at once, gasping and groping so incessantly that you nearly didn’t notice the borderline abrasive tugging at the waistband of your pants.

If true doubt hadn’t filled your soul beforehand, it sure did now as Mahito trailed down your body, leaving bites and open mouthed kisses in his wake.

It was a disgustingly human-like action, but then again almost everything about him was on the surface.

You simply had to endure.

“I want you to keep looking at me, okay?”

The excitement in his voice didn’t betray the fact it was a command, not a request as he slid off the hammock and pulled the last remainder of clothing off your body with practiced ease. He roughly adjusted your body so you laid across the hammock horizontally with your hips at the edge and knees over his shoulders. He knelt so your pussy was directly in front of his face, and heat burned in your cheeks as he parted your folds with two fingers - keeping his eyes locked with yours as he languidly ran his tongue up your slit, flicking your clit sharply with the tip and you practically mewled.

His laughter vibrated against your core, causing your hips to jerk up into his mouth, and his hands looped under your legs to hold onto the fat of your upper thighs, securing your lower body in place as he devoured you.

He was a messy eater, and the noises extended beyond obscene. There was never a steady rhythm, the motion of his mouth and tongue going either too fast or too slow and never really giving you a precise pattern that you could hold onto. Just mindless exploration meant to drive you further to the point of madness.

And the sick thing was it worked. That horrid coil that you hadn’t felt in ages was rapidly building, and rational thought took a backseat as you buried your hands in his hair for the nth time that night - holding on for dear life while your hips responded to his clumsy movements.

He smiled against your cunt, tongue swirling around your clit as he watched your face pinch together at a height of pleasure that you just weren’t able to reach. You weren’t holding back anymore, whines pouring freely from your throat with increasing volume and pitch.

You practically shrieked when you felt something hot, wet, and slimy plunge into your core. You’d been so lost in the mirth and lust in his eyes that you didn’t notice the second tongue that formed, the one that now wormed its way in and out of your cunt while the other worked over your clit, and you were gone.

The walls became familiar with your screams once again when you came. You had broken eye contact with Mahito when you threw your head back against the ropes, but you couldn’t find the capacity to care as your body shook violently. Air was hard to come by, and it only grew worse as Mahito picked up the pace, never giving you a chance to recover in the post-orgasmic bliss.

“Wh-what are you doing?” You gasped.

You were granted a brief moment of relief as the tongues were pulled from you, but it wasn’t out of mercy.

“I’m not finished.” There’s an underlying tone in his usual glee. A warning that kept you firmly fastened in place.

“I want to see what it truly takes to break you.”

I'm Not Sorry For This.

© absolute-flaming-trash 2022. Do not repost, modify, copy, or claim.

Taglist:@prettycutebunny, @sai-my-beloved, @we-are-so-close, @shorkbrian, @biby-24k, @forcefulkitten, @siphite


Tags :
1 year ago

My dealer: got some straight gas 🔥😛 this strain is called “shinigami eyes” 😳 you’ll be zonked out of your gourd 💯

Me: yeah whatever. I don’t feel shit.

5 minutes later: dude I swear I just saw the chief's son feed an apple to the air

My buddy Ryuzaki pacing: light yagami is lying to us


Tags :
1 year ago

Demon’s Lair

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Chapter: 1/?

Demons Lair
Demons Lair
Demons Lair

Synopsis: You don’t know how you got here, and you don’t know who he is. A demon, perhaps. One who makes no secret of how much he would enjoy killing you. If you keep him entertained, he’ll hold off… we’ll see how long that lasts.

Content Tags: noncon/dubcon (fuck-or-die), kidnapping, death threats, True Form Sukuna (with two cocks because I Like It), one part with a kinda predator/prey dynamic, face slapping, face fucking, blood, tears, forced masturbation, fingering, bondage

Note: I am aware that I am not the first person to have had this general idea. I am also aware that I always want more of it, and I would imagine that I am not alone. So if you are depraved like me - enjoy!

Your eyes flutter open. The last you remembered, you were on a deserted trail, perhaps half a mile from your home. It was far too late, you were alone, it was so dark that you could barely see the path you were walking - but you’d been okay. At least, you were going be okay. You had food in your hands, a straight path ahead of you, the promise of sleep awaiting you.

But your hands are empty now, and the trail is gone. In its place is a cavern. Dark rock walls looming over you, stones scattered across the hard ground, water dripping somewhere in the distance, and a strange red glow permeating the entire massive space. Your clothing - simple trousers and a tunic - is torn in several places, your carefully braided hair hanging loose about your face.

A hazy voice from your childhood rises to the top of your mind. “ Don’t play outside too late, or a demon will come take you away!” The phrase had been enough to send you running inside when you were a child, but it’s been years since you stopped taking it seriously. Not that you didn’t believe in demons - you just figured it wasn’t so easy to catch one’s attention. But…something unnatural has certainly happened here. There’s a darkness haunting this space, sending a shiver down your spine.

As your vision clears, you see the full picture. It’s not just stones littering the floor. Stones aren’t bleached white. Stones don’t make you shudder when you gaze upon them. And they’re not shaped like that.

The ringing in your ears begins to fade. It’s not just dripping water, either. There’s a whole river flowing, somewhere, and the cave walls themselves seem to be echoing the heartbeat pounding through your veins. Under that - an echoing set of footsteps. And they’re coming closer.

You need to move - but you don’t. You can’t. You stay on the ground, half-sitting, hot blood rushing to your face, until the footsteps come to a stop behind you.

When you finally gain the will to move, it’s too late. A sharp-nailed hand closes over the back of your neck and yanks you to your feet. You can’t see its owner, and when you attempt to turn your head, it - he? - presses its fingers to your cheek, holding you in place. When you try to speak - all that comes out is a confused whimper.

He laughs. “You’re unlucky.” His voice seems to bubble up from all around you, unnaturally loud in the otherwise quiet space. “I got bored. And you got caught. It could have been anyone…” You feel another set of fingernails - too many of them - trickle over your thigh, sliding over a tear in the fabric that once covered you, digging sharply into the bare skin beneath. “But I can’t say I’m disappointed by what I dragged in.” He sighs. “Although I do wish you would say something. It’s no fun when you’re silent.” His grip tightens, nails pressing threateningly into your neck. “Speak.”

You say the only thing that comes to your mind. “Where… where am I?” Instinctively, you jerk forward, as if you’re trying to run away, but he easily yanks you backwards, pulling you into him, his body a hard wall against your back.

“Somewhere that no one leaves - without my permission, that is. And I seldom give it.”

“Who are you?” Your quick burst of motion has spurred you into action - you writhe and twist beneath his hand, pry at his fingers. He snakes his other arm around your waist, pinning you against him.

“That’s more like it.” He sounds amused. Terrifyingly casual. “It’s no fun if you don’t fight, either.”

He’s strong - as hard as you try, you can’t shift his grip an inch, and your attempts only make him laugh. You can feel panic welling up inside you, and you double your efforts, but it seems to make no difference. “Let me go.”

He clicks his tongue, leans over your shoulder. “I don’t think so. You’re far too entertaining.”

“Let me go.”

“Shh. I don’t like having to repeat myself.” He uncurls his arm from around your waist, and somehow - too fast for you to comprehend - grabs both your wrists in one hand, holding them high over your head. “You’re so weak. You’ve never had to fight for your life, have you?”

You try to wrench your arms away, tugging with all the strength you have, but it’s no use. His hold on you is unnaturally tight, his grip vise like on your wrists.

“No need to answer. I can feel the blood rushing under your skin. This is new to you…not as if it would make a difference either way.” Once again, you feel the impossible phantom sensation of more fingers brushing over your thigh. It doesn’t make sense - you hear another whimper escape your lips, and he releases your neck to muffle the sound, slapping his palm over your mouth. You try to scream, and throw your entire body forward, feet scrabbling against the rocky ground, but you go nowhere.

“I like that you’re trying. As pathetic as your attempts may be.”

You shake your head violently, and in response, he digs his nails into your cheek.

“It’s entertaining, if nothing else. And I’m not unreasonable.” All at once, he releases you and shoves you forward. You fall hard to the ground, face nearly shattering on the rocky surface. But you catch yourself - barely - absorbing the impact with your hands and knees, your entire body shaking from the shock. “I’ll give you a chance to escape.” He kneels down at your side, and strokes a gentle hand through your hair. “I’ll even give you a head start.”

You look up, catching a glimpse of his face before he presses yours into the ground. It’s a shocking sight, so much so that you assume it’s a trick of the light. The intricate set of dark markings scattered across his skin could be easily explained. Same with the strange placard covering part of the right side of his face - it must be a mask of some sort, though you can’t see how it’s fastened. But his eyes are another matter. You swear you saw a second pair staring back at you, tucked beneath the first. And his real eyes…even those were terrifying. They were too bright, too intense, narrowed by the ferocious smile painted across his face.

The air is squeezed from your lungs as he shoves you onto your stomach, scraping your cheek against the ground. He presses down hard, barely giving you the space to breathe, let alone move.

“When I release you, you’ll have ten seconds to move freely,” he declares. “I’ll even close my eyes.”

Ten seconds isn’t much time - you need a plan. But you’re dazed, disoriented, confused…even before he moves, you know you don’t have a chance.

“Not yet…” He taps his fingers sharply against your waist. “Not yet…” He grabs the back of your dress and rises to his feet, hauling you up with him. “ Now.”

You manage not to fall as he lets go, and stumble forward in the direction you’re facing.

“ Nine, eight…”

You’re sprinting as fast as you can, but the ground is uneven, and littered with things you don’t care to look at.

“Seven, six…”

Your eyes dart wildly around the massive space. There’s no way out. Not one that you can see, anyways. And there’s no time to think. You just need to keep moving. Keep running, and hide when you run out of time.

“Five, four, three…”

Keep running. A dark, narrow stream of water appears in front of you, and you leap over it. The far bank is slick, and when you land, you stumble. There’s a crunch beneath your feet.

“Two.”

You don’t stop to look. There’s nothing big around you - there’s nowhere to hide.

“ One.”

Just keep moving. You’ve made space. Eventually, there will be an escape. There has to be. This can’t go on forever.

“Time’s up.”

His voice…it’s close. Far too close to account for the seconds you spent running away. He’s somewhere to your left. You turn - and from your right, a hand lashes out, ensnaring you and sending you tumbling to the ground once more. This time, it’s his foot that pins you in place, pressing down on your spine as you wriggle helplessly beneath.

“That was disappointing,” he sighs. “You’re making this far too easy for me.”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

“It’s incredible how fragile your kind is. If I’m not careful, I might actually break you.” He digs his heel into you, cackling as you cry out in pain. “Unfortunately, I don’t like being careful. It’s another one of those things that bores me.” He brings his foot up, and slides it under your stomach, effortlessly kicking you onto your back.

Your eyes have been squeezed tight - when you open them, his face is hovering over you. Both pairs of eyes stare malevolently into your own.

“I see that you’re done fighting. Probably a wise choice.” His voice is calm, and he’s smiling. It sends a shudder through your body. “But if you’ve given that up, you only have one option left.” His grin broadens, and he straightens up, standing tall, looming over you. “Get yourself up on your knees. I don’t like you lying down in my presence.”

Without a thought, you comply, rolling over and pushing yourself onto your knees, your head bowed. Your mind is numb, but you still know that obeying is your only choice.

“Good.” He pauses, takes a step back. “Now, I’ll be clear about my intentions.” He sweeps his foot across the ground, kicking a stray rock aside. It bounces through the cavern, every impact echoing across the walls. “Right now, nothing would bring me more pleasure than killing you.”

Your entire body stiffens. Your vision is hazy, scattered with black patches. And you can’t run. You already tried to run - and it only got you here.

“I’ve been thinking about all the ways I could do it,” he continues. “If I were feeling charitable, I would strangle you. But I’m not. I want to see blood. There are a lot of ways I could satisfy that desire - and some take longer than others.”

You’re fighting your body, trying not to keel over, tears suddenly obscuring your vision. When your captor notices, his laughter ricochets through the cave, vibrating across every inch of your skin. You have to look up. You have to see his face. Maybe you’ll see some reason for hope if you do. You raise your head - but you find yourself unable to look into his eyes. Instead, you find your gaze trailing up the length of his form, taking in small details, finding a strange calm in fixating upon them. He’s wearing a simple pair of sandals. A robe flows over them. The fabric is white with black designs, There’s a tie at the waist. Wide, flowing sleeves.

And that’s as far as you get. Once your gaze reaches the end of those sleeves, your small moment of tranquility is shattered, because out from under them protrude not one, but two sets of arms.

He talks like a man, but he isn’t. Everything you’ve witnessed - the eyes, the arms - it’s all impossible. But it’s real. You have to trust yourself. You know what you’ve seen. “What are you?”

He - it? - revels in your realization, a grin spreading over his face. “That’s a better question than your last two. But I’m not interested in answering it.” There’s a pause - he calmly tilts his head, thinking something through. “You’re so much fun… I don’t think I want to kill you quickly. I’ll enjoy it much more if I draw it out.” He sighs blissfully - almost theatrically. “It could last hours if I do it right. I’ll get to hear you beg for death long before you go limp in my hands.”

Your body jolts of its own accord, a last-ditch effort at escape, but you can’t find the control to bring yourself to your feet. Your mouth falls open, but no sound comes out.

“Oh, go on,” he sighs. “Beg for your life. But try to make it interesting. You all say the exact same thing, and it’s beginning to wear on me.”

“I…” Your mind is blank with terror, the few words you can summon rushing out of your mouth. “I don’t know what’s happening.” Your tears flow down your face, build up in your throat, choke your words. “I don’t want to die. I want to go home. Please let me go home.” You tense at the swish of his robes - he’s stepping closer, cutting your time short.

“Boring.” He brings up his left hand (one of them) and strikes the side of your face. When you cry out, he repeats the action on the other side. Then, he takes your jaw in his hand, forcing you to look up at him, and brushes away a stray tear as it slides down your cheek. “Try again,” he commands. “I won’t give you a third chance.”

At the last possible moment, a strangely clear thought enters your head. There is no happy ending here. You can’t escape. All you can do is try to save yourself - by any means necessary. So, finally, you allow yourself to meet his gaze, resisting the urge to look away as he bares his teeth. “Do what you want with me. I’ll entertain you in any way you please.” He raises an eyebrow - you’ve managed to say something that interests him. But he wants more. “Let me…” You pause, and force yourself to breathe. In, out. It’s too late to do anything but this. You cannot go back. You have to finish. “Let me prove that I’m more valuable to you alive.”

A rumble of laughter echoes through the cavern, seemingly emerging from the walls themselves. “Fascinating.” He lashes out with one of his hands and wraps it tightly around your neck. “No one’s ever said that before.” You gasp for air, and he slaps another hand over your mouth. “You’re weak…but you have some resolve. I like that.”

You breathe shallowly through your nose, already light-headed, your pulse thudding against his palm.

“I think…” He pauses, staring you down. You don’t look away. “I think I’ll keep you.” The relief in your eyes must be obvious - and it doesn’t last long. “For as long as you can handle it.” Another hand springs out, twists its long fingers through your hair. “For as long as you’re alive…you’re mine. The moment you forget that - the moment you fail, or disobey - that’s when your life will end. Understood?”

You have no choice - you nod as best you can, a fresh wave of tears spilling over as he yanks at your hair.

“Good.” His voice softens, lowers to barely more than a whisper. “We’ll start with something simple.” He sounds almost kind, but you know it’s just part of the game. The fist still grasping at your throat is enough to remind you of that. “Undo the knot at my waist.”

Your hands shake as you bring them up, and you find yourself focusing on small details once again. The cuff of your sleeve is torn, and there’s a smudge of something dark on your left hand - residue from your fall. The knot you’ve been tasked with untying is simple. A single pull at one end unravels it. The fabric is smooth, soft, and there are layers to the robe. The last is made of fine silk, its shine reflecting the dark red glow of the cavern around you. It’s held in place by a silk band, tied with the same simple knot as the first…

When your eyes catch on the space below the knot, you feel a deep pit open up in your stomach. The silhouette before you - it’s wrong. Warped. Exaggerated beyond the point of making any sense at all.

“Haven’t you heard?” drawls the voice above you. “It’s not dignified to stare.” He presses his palm to the back of your neck, urging you closer. “Fortunately, I have no interest in preserving your dignity.”

This is not a man. You’ve seen how this looks on men. The shape he carves in front of you…it’s nothing you’ve ever seen before.

He inhales deeply, and brings up a third hand to trace the line of your jaw. “Go on. I know you’re curious.”

The words sting, because he’s right. You want him to disappear and never return, but for as long as he’s standing over you, you’re going to want to know. It makes you loathe yourself. Makes you want to bury your head in the dust beneath you.

“Don’t make me impatient.” He brings you closer by your hair, and the silk of his robe brushes the tip of your nose. “I have enough in store for you as it is.”

Your fingers flutter over the final knot, missing the end twice before you manage to grasp it. The fabric parts, and you see exactly what your imagination conjured, what you didn’t dare believe before witnessing it yourself. Two thick, vein-laden cocks, one directly above the other, half-hard and already bigger than any man’s should be. Each has two black bands under the tip, reminiscent of the markings on his face - you glance up, and see that his chest is littered with them too.

There’s a part of you that wants to look away. You hate the part of you that doesn’t, that keeps you staring.

He smirks, and plunges your face into him, dragging your cheek down one shaft, up the other. “Choose.” There’s a terrible hunger in his voice, and you can feel him stiffen against your face. “You weren’t made to take both... soon, you will, but today…” He exhales sharply, and runs a finger over your lips. “You get to pick your favorite.”

If he were to pry open your mouth and force himself inside, this wouldn’t be so humiliating. Instead, he drops his hands from your neck and your hair, and waits for you to move, both sets of eyes narrowed in silent mockery. Slowly, you expose your tongue, and - eyes screwed shut - brush it over the lower tip. You feel his hand pass above you, and the second presence seems to disappear. There’s no sigh, no shudder as your tongue drags up his length, no hand on the back of your head as you close your lips around him.

A subtle thrust - with his size, it’s enough to make you sputter. “Why are your eyes closed?” he muses. “Scared of what you’ve seen? Or scared that you’ll enjoy it?”

Your eyes snap open before you can help it, defiance glowing inside them for just a moment.

“Oh, don’t be offended. I don’t care either way. And if you’re struggling, I’m glad to help you along.”

You try to shake your head - too late. He knots his hand through your hair once again, gradually pushing you down until it’s too much and you can’t stop yourself from gagging, choking. You’re nowhere near the base, but it doesn’t matter. He’s too big for you, and he knows it, but he holds you where you are, unmoved as you instinctively try to pull back. You feel like you can’t breath - if it wasn’t suicide, you’d use your teeth to escape -

He pulls you up. You take a breath, and immediately have it pressed from your lungs as he tugs you forward again. Again, again - each time he seems to test you more, force more into your throat, and the more you struggle, the more violent it turns. A pair of fingernails slices your cheek, slashes through the tunic clinging raggedly to your shoulder, scratches at the skin beneath.

You can hear his heavy breaths, although you wonder whether he even needs to breathe, or only does it for effect. You need to breathe - there’s an odd taste in your mouth beneath the feel of his skin, the metallic tang of pushing yourself too far, but he gives you no time to ponder it.

He lets go of your hair. “Keep going. Prove yourself.”

You ignore the blood dripping down your cheek, ignore the pounding in your temples, and do as he says. No hesitation - you force yourself down again and again, as if you still have his hand at the back of your head, choking yourself on his cock.

“ That’s right.”

You’re crying - truly, fully crying - but you don’t stop to wipe the tears away, even when you feel them building up in your nose. Stopping is not an option. Failing…you can’t even think about what would happen then.

Two heavy hands fall upon your shoulders, knuckles tightening - you hold yourself still while he tenses, his cock wedged deep in your throat, stilling your breath completely. His grip is tight, controlled, until he’s emptied himself inside you, until you’ve swallowed every drop.

He recovers all too quickly, stepping back and hauling you to your feet.

“You have promise.” Without warning, he plunges his hand down your trousers, inside your undergarments, carefully stroking the pads of his fingers over the slit of your cunt. His eyes widen, and his lips curl. “And you’re wet …why is that?”

Your mouth opens and closes wordlessly. It doesn’t make sense to you, either.

“Embarrassed? Perhaps you should be. I was under the impression that this was a last resort for you. Not something you’d been craving…” He tugs at your trousers and the waistband beneath, leaving you bare to the knees, and drops you to the ground, presses you onto your back. “Touch yourself.”

“Now?” You hate how pathetic you sound, hate the way it amuses him.

“Yes.” He grabs your wrist, guides it between your legs. “Get yourself worked up for me. Looking at the state of you, I doubt it will take long.”

You’ve never done this with someone watching you. Your fingers are clumsy, slowly tracing over your body, your mind struggling to fall into the right place. When he clasps one hand over your eyes and another over your mouth, it gets easier - although you know better than to ever admit it.

“Look at you. Any sensible human would find this impossible. But you…you’re actually enjoying yourself right now.” You pause, and he slaps a third hand over your own. “Don’t stop. I want to see what this does to you.” He clicks his tongue disapprovingly, slides the hand to your inner thigh. “You’re terrified - those pretty tear-stains on your face are good enough proof of that. But there’s something in you that’s conflicted…” He replaces your slowly-moving hand with his own, pinching your clit between his fingers. “I don’t mind. It means I get to push you harder before you break.”

You squirm uncontrollably. This is pleasure and pain in equal measures, and the fact that you don’t really want it to stop sends a fresh wave of shame rolling over you. You try to ignore it. You know you have no choice. It was this, or a much more permanent fate. If you manage to enjoy a small part of it, that’s not such a bad thing…

“I think that’s enough.” He stops, and your whimpers are muffled as he flips you onto your stomach and presses your face to the ground. “Maybe I’ll let you try again later. For now…” He pulls your hands behind your back, brings your feet up to meet them, secures yours ankles to your wrists with the discarded ties from his robes. “You’re going to be unsupervised for a while. I don’t want you getting into any trouble while I’m gone.”

You’re not sure where he goes - you can’t bring yourself to lift your face until long after his footsteps have faded away. When you do, you topple onto your side, and stare cross-eyed at the blurred walls around you. You wonder if he only left to savor the feeling of cutting your pleasure short, or to give you time to imagine what he might do to you upon his return. It’s effective. You know that this was only your first test, and with nothing to distract you, you can’t help but picture what might come next.

Only a few paces from you, there’s a chilling sight - a human skull lying crooked on the ground, a jagged hole visible on its brow. When you see it, you’re newly aware of the cuts on your cheek, the sting of blood drying on your skin. He was holding back. Being gentle, by his own standards.

You’ll give everything you have to keep him that way.


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