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Sometimes, you thought about throwing yourself from your balcony. You’d never actually be able to, what with the layers upon layers of security ensuring you’d never so much as sniff the outside air without Keigo’s express permission and supervision. Still, a girl could dream.
Just the idea of that moment before the fall, the suspension of time and space that simultaneously felt ephemeral and like an eternity. The blistering onslaught of air forcing your eyes closed. Your hair whipping wildly behind you, like ribbons. The weightless feeling of your organs, and the butterflies filling the spaces in between them. And finally, the moment before your body collided with the unforgiving earth—then nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
You yearned for it, more than anything you thought to be capable of yearning. It frightened you, because this is what he made—no, molded you into. A scared little thing, cowering and submitting always, because a happy Keigo was infinitely more preferable to an upset Keigo. He made you want to die. You, who used to be someone worthy of the title villain, worthy of the fear of others, and the respect of your peers.
So much for that.
What a sight you made now, nursing two babies that were forced in and out of you while gazing emptily out the barred windows of the gilded cage you were confined to. A broodmare in the making, you were.
You sighed in a way that couldn’t be simply described as sad, but as something so utterly despondent that sad would be doing it a disservice. You were defeated, in every sense of the word. Keigo had conquered you, and now he was reaping the benefits, and then some.
A choked off gurgle snatched you from your desolate reverie, and your newly found maternal instincts were quicker to action than your disconnected brain. A few hearty pats between those tiny speckled wings and the little tyke was back in business, immediately returning to your breast and chugging away at the treasured essence inside—quite similar to a certain other bird of prey that you knew.
You honestly found yourself incapable of smiling naturally these days, but one look at your children was all it took for one to creep its way to your mouth. Even if they were a part of the despicable “hero” that held you captive and effectively uprooted your entire life, they were yours as well. You couldn’t explain it, but you somehow loved them, unbelievably so, despite how they were brought into this world.
You may have been a villain once, but you weren’t void of a soul. Not like Keigo. You weren’t sure he loved them as much as he perceived them as cherished little pets, much like he perceived you. That’s all the lot of you were to him. Pets.
Well, with the exception of you being the pet bride. You all had your roles to play, naturally. And Keigo certainly liked it when you played the role of the attentive housewife.
You absentmindedly stroked the wispy hairs on the back of their heads, gazing once more out your balcony windows and at the city lights winking at you from miles and miles away. You were in your own little world, tucked away in the dense forest that neighbored Musutafu. A private little retreat, for Keigo and Keigo alone.
The unmistakable sound of the front door opening never failed to make your hair stand on end, yet you were on your feet and gently tucking your babes into their shared crib the second you registered it, quickly making yourself presentable.
He’s back.
“Honey,” a sickeningly familiar voice sing-songed, “I’m home!”
You scrambled to greet him promptly, practically drifting the corner to your bedroom as your mental conditioning kicked into high gear the second his mellifluous voice graced your ears. He was waiting for you, outstretched arms scooping you up the moment you were within his reach.
“Welcome back, Keigo,” you mumbled into his chest, eyes sliding shut in calm resignation as he smooched the top of your head affectionately, a ritual he always did upon arriving. He reluctantly detached himself from you to shrug his thick coat from those sculpted shoulders, and you swiftly took it from him without being prompted. It took a while, but he’s certainly gotten you house trained now. The preluding months of your time together were something you never wanted to go through ever again, so his dutiful darling was what you would have to be… as long as you wanted to remain in one piece, that is.
Keigo sighed dramatically, seemingly spent from his daily endeavors, hooking an arm around your midsection to tug your apathetic form along with him, steering the two of you to your shared bedroom. There was a split second delay where your feet remained rooted to the spot, cautious of what he had in mind in going there so soon. Maybe he just wanted to see the twins and change before you whipped him up some leftovers? It was still too soon for something like that, surely…
“Guess what,” he whispered in your ear conspiratorially, as if he had a juicy secret he just could not wait to divulge. Just that utterance alone had your stomach twisting around itself, an all too familiar thundercloud of foreboding settling itself above you. You didn’t have to guess because inherently you knew, but you remained silent in hopes that he’d steer your suspicions off a cliff.
“The doc—” The sound of his children crying derailed his train of thought instantaneously, and he basically dragged you behind him as he all but sprinted to them, cooing softly as he reached inside the crib like they were puppies in a pet store.
“Aww, how are my lil nuggets doin’?” His eyes were practically full of stars and hearts as he lightly pinched their chubby cheeks, poking at soft tummies to invoke those magical little giggles. You don’t know how he did it, but he always managed to stop their tears instantly. You were reluctant to admit, but he undeniably had some uses that didn’t include making your life a living hell. Genuine shocker there.
“Hm? Hmm? Was mommy takin’ good care of you? I bet she was. Daddy adores you, y’know? Yes, yes he does.” You tried really hard not to smile, you did. You hated smiling around him, especially when along came a moment that called upon such a rarity, but such a scene was too cute even for you to handle. Being a mother must be doing further damage to your head than you thought…
Exhibit A being the mistake you made when you settled yourself against the edge of the bed while your husband enthusiastically reacquainted himself with his offspring. Those sharp citrine eyes briefly flicked in your direction, glimmering with an indecipherable sheen that you knew all too well. He had something planned, judging by that shrewd, avian stare of his.
“Doc gave the all clear,” he said simply, briefly scrutinizing your carefully schooled expression before returning his attention to his wriggling babes, as if merely mentioning the weather. You, however, knew the gravity of those words—far too well.
“Oh.” Was all you said, as the weight of your fear abruptly yanked your gaze to the floor. You had been dreading this moment ever since your delivery a month ago. It was inevitable; he would want to try again.
Not try, but do. He would get you pregnant again. Above all, it’s what he vowed that very first night he had buried his greedy talons into your miserable existence—to have a big happy family. At first, you’d found the thought terrifying, if not a little comical simply due to how out of left field the entire situation was. Now, after experiencing everything that was the true Keigo Takami for nearly a whole year, you were still scared, if not more, but now found no humor whatsoever in such thoughts. Because it was a promise he would absolutely deliver on.
Keigo had been oddly resigned to the task of giving you space after you gave birth, as the doctor strictly advised him on allowing at least a few weeks for your recuperation, since birth tended to be more than a little taxing on the body. He’d been unexpectedly acquiescent, appearing every bit the doting husband he played himself up to be while ensuring your recovery was smooth and seamless, all while basking in the bliss of newfound parenthood. For the moment, he was content to wait—he was finally living his dream, after all.
But only for the moment.
Unfortunately, you found Keigo to be a primarily instinct driven creature, and he could only deprive himself of what he needed for so long. The first week truly was bliss, for you most especially, but by the second, he quickly began to show signs of restlessness. He was likely being an insufferable nuisance to your doctor by checking in every day, always coming home with a sullen pout and the same feedback as the day before: No sex yet, he’d sigh into your neck sullenly.
AKA, no breeding—which was essentially a death sentence in the young number two’s eyes. You would pat his back awkwardly, unable to offer any convincing words of encouragement, as you were honestly enjoying the rare reprieve from his insatiable lust too much to even pretend sharing his sentiments. You’d milk this short time to yourself for all it was worth, and he could not—would not deny you that. Out of everything he had taken from you, he could manage to give back just a little.
But that was just you being selfish, clearly.
You should’ve known, though, with that cheery entrance a moment ago. You should have known.
“Nothin’ to say?” He was facing you now, leaning against the crib and lazily flicking at the mobile that hung above, depicting various types of birds swooping amongst fluffy clouds. You’d been living with him long enough to discern that look as the dreaded calm before the storm. You were not going to worm your way out of this one, not this time.
“I— are — are you sure?” Your eyes were still downcast, afraid to meet his lest risk releasing the floodgates that contained his thoroughly whittled restraint. He had been waiting for this day quite anxiously. Why were you so quiet? Weren’t you as excited about this as he was? More babies equaled more happiness, so what wasn’t there to understand?
Pristine black shoes entering your vision was the only heads-up you received before your chin was firmly pinched between a thumb and forefinger, directing your glassy gaze to his.
“Baby,” he murmured softly, consolingly, as a gloved digit sluggishly dragged across your trembling lower lip. His tone indicated pity, but the laser focused intensity of his stare on your mouth told a different story.
“I’ve been patient. I’ve been good, haven’t I?” These were the moments where his mastery of manipulation came into play—his question specifically phrased in such a way that it tapped into some corner of your brain that was cultivated especially for and by himself. It was cute—really—your attempt at redirecting him, as if you actually had a chance at delaying this.
“Y-yes, you have… it’s just—” He tutted at you, cutting you off with a firm press of his thumb against your tongue, the abrupt and invasive entry into your mouth rendering you utterly silent and still. He sighed fondly, as if greeting an old friend, as he stroked the surface of the warm organ, mesmerized by the sight of your saliva pooling wherever his finger pressed. You hadn’t a doubt in your mind he was imagining something else taking its place.
“Just what? You just… don’t want to get knocked up again?” His head tilted in faux-innocence as he silently reveled in your deer-in-the-headlights look, which paired so perfectly with the thumb jammed in your gaping mouth. He smiled tenderly despite clearly hitting the nail on the head, gently patting the top of your head with his other hand.
“Don’t worry, love. After our third, you’ll be seeing things my way... I promise.” He sounded so utterly certain you could only stare at him blankly as he removed his finger, gilded gaze equally as blank as he appeared to be lost in the silvery strands of drool that bridged the gap between you and him. When those wet, delicate threads snapped, so too did the feeble strings holding up his consideration for your feelings.
“Now, get on the bed,” he said tersely, tugging his gloves off with those dangerously glinting canines before making hasty work of the rest of his attire. “Clothes off.”
You remained immobile for a moment, and a feathery brow cocked at you, as if to say, “Well? Hop to it.”
A part of you desperately wanted to refute him, to plead your case somehow, but the rest of you—the parts that have been weathered and shaped by his own malevolent hand—knew better. Your options weren’t just limited—they simply didn’t exist. Either you obeyed like a good girl, or you magnified your misery tenfold. After all, whatever Keigo wanted, Keigo got. That’s just the way things worked.
Call it what you will… but at least he made your decision-making easier.
You said no more as your body fell into autopilot, accepting your fate for the betterment of your mental and physical health. You really didn’t feel like being tossed around like fresh meat today. You spared a quick, forlorn glance at your children, praying they were too young to be cognizant of what was about to transpire. You would have to pitch the idea of clearing out a room for them soon, but you were sure he was already deliberating such things. Keigo loathed interruptions, but obviously, that wasn’t what you were concerned about.
There was almost hardly any time for you to slide your remaining article of clothing down your legs before a flurry of red overtook you, whisking you to the center of what was cheekily dubbed as your “nest”. Not your idea, obviously.
You had expected him to climb over you and just immediately go to town, after all, it has been a month—which is practically a decade in Keigo time. What you hadn’t expected was for him to seat himself in front of you, legs and wings spreading expectantly. He had forgone removing the briefs that clung tightly to those svelte hips, as if to prolong the mystery of what lay beyond that formidable, twitching bulge. As if to leave that piece of himself especially for you, like it were a wrapped present on Christmas morning. And to him, it very well could have been.
‘So what,’ you thought sardonically, ‘does this make him Santa?’
God, you were gonna hurl. Hold it together. The last time you puked on his dick, he forced you to lick all of it off and then to drink his fucking piss after—you couldn’t forget the taste even if you tried, likely being burned into your poor taste buds. Thus your golden rule was born: don’t puke, no matter what. Then again, the same applied for generally any bodily function that transpired without his go-ahead. You couldn’t afford to complain about it anymore, however. Such was life with the respectable and esteemed Hawks.
You sighed quietly, more so to steel yourself for what lie ahead, shaking hands apprehensively approaching the waistband embroidered with his brand as if the beast that lurked beneath would pop out with its own wicked volition at any moment. It’d certainly startle you, but you honestly wouldn’t be surprised if that thing had developed sentience at this point.
“You remember what to do, don’t you? It hasn’t been that long.” An impatient gripe sounded above you, and you spared a fleeting peek at his face, all twisted and pinched as if he was literally experiencing pain by not being in your mouth right this second. You had to bite your lip to prevent a derisive you’re one to talk from tumbling past it. Says the man who was just one more day of abstinence from spontaneously combusting.
You suppose you could’ve given him blowjobs during that time in order to, quite literally, lessen his load, but could you be blamed for just wanting unmitigated peace if only for a little while? Yes, apparently. Yes, you could.
It seems whatever motivations he had about maintaining the atmosphere of “allure” were effectively snuffed out, his feverish desire for just the raw sensation of you overruling all. Those criminally small undergarments were yanked down without further ado, that stiff slab of man-meat nearly slapping you right on the forehead upon release. You’re pretty sure some of his pre landed in your eyelashes, judging by the sudden sporadic twitching of one of your eyelids. You knew that’s was he was hoping for, if the suddenness of the action was anything to go by. Gross bastard.
“Alright then…” His smile was eerie with its width, stretching from almost ear-to-ear as errant fingers tucked wayward strands behind your ear, slithering along your nape to gather your hair in a rudimentary ponytail. It didn’t help that the lights suddenly switched off, presumably from one of his feathers, providing you with only a sharp grin and frighteningly incandescent eyes reflecting nocturnal light as your focal point. “Get me ready, baby.”
It was easiest when you didn’t dwell on the particulars in these moments, so you all but threw yourself at his groin after the command, your body falling into a routine that was firmly engrained within it. Just need to get him off fast and get this over with…
You were thwarted before you could even cram a fraction of him down your throat, a sound of confused indignation following the wince-inducing yank on your hair that forced the tight seal of your mouth to break. What now?
“N-not there,” he admonished breathily, hips chasing the inviting wet hole that was your mouth despite his protests. The digits bunching your hair together loosened in favor of entangling themselves in your roots, utilizing the solid purchase of your skull to tug you lower and lower. “Down here.”
Oh. Right.
He shoved you into his throbbing testes, all gussied and groomed especially for you, for this night. Either there was something he wasn’t telling you or he was just extremely clairvoyant and knew you would be fair game by tonight. It was likely both, knowing him.
“That’s it,” he encouraged throatily, reclining further against those flared, twitching wings. “Get ‘em nice an’ plump—better to breed you with, yeah?” His laugh was warm, affectionate.
As much as you yearned to shut the gates of your jaw on his delicate manhood, what other choice did you have but to suck those spongy sacs into your hot mouth, one by one? You may have abhorred the man and everything that he stood for, but you’d be damned if you didn’t do at least this to your best ability, if only to get him to shut the fuck up for a few days. A few was definitely a stretch, though. Unless you truly gave him a spit-shine to remember. You shuddered at the prospects of what that entailed; Keigo did have a pretty colorful imagination, after all.
“Then again… they’re pretty fucking backed up already.” His grin was lethal, relishing in the visible cloud of gloom overshadowing the sweet face buried in his taint. He’d never tire of it—of your cute, expressive face. It was one of the many things that drew him to you in the first place. He had spent so many nights wondering what it would look like twisted in pleasure, pain, and misery. He’d become obsessed with it, eternally restless until he finally got his greedy mitts on the real thing.
Poor thing, you were. Utterly doomed from the start.
Keigo had no business looking at you as fondly as he did while your mouth was literally juggling his balls, tongue slathering messily over their smooth, impeccable roundness. He seemed to have too many urges manifesting in his body all at once, continuously warring between anchoring his tremulous grip in the roots of your hair and stroking the length of it softly, as if you were his precious little teddy bear—a teddy bear to cherish, breed, and ruin as he pleased.
You gazed up at him, or as best as you could with that tower of cock resting against your forehead, dewy doe eyes blinking through the gobs of spunk dripping off the tip of it. The viscous fluids fell into the inner corner of your eyes, trailing past your tear ducts and down your cheeks like lewd tears. He seemed absolutely enraptured by the sight; that dilated, black-hole stare zeroed in on the occasional gooey droplet that found its way into your mouth, merging with the frothy saliva coating his sufficiently plumped sacs.
He didn’t actually need you to get him ready, but what you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt you, right? A little incentive always went a long way, in Keigo’s expert opinion.
The grip on your hair became ruthlessly taut, steering your diminutive, pained whimpers into his tingling perineum. It felt like you were finally breaching water when those corded thighs released you from their custody, somehow finding themselves squeezed against your head in the heat of his euphoria. Hoarse and lusty exhalations were lost amongst the blood pounding in your eardrums as he peeled you off his clammy lap.
Knowing what was about to ensue next, you couldn’t stop the panicked words that crawled their way past your loosened lips. You hastily wiped the back of your mouth, braving the full force of his mercurial stare for the sake of somehow getting through to him.
“Please Keigo, could you at least… put — put a condom on? For me? J-just this once?”
“For me?” He parroted your quivering, mousy cadence with a venomous little smirk, before the flawless features displayed on tabloids worldwide warped into a grievous, haunting image. You shrunk back as if you were burned, unable to meet the front liner of your reoccurring night terrors head on. His voice remained low and modulated, incompatible to the sight laid before your fearful eyes.
“These past few weeks have spoiled you, it seems. You’ve already forgotten how everything works.” His sigh was morose, saturated in disappointment. “Sweetie, this isn’t about you. It’s about me—” he pointed at himself, as if the added indication was necessary. “Remember?”
As if you could ever fucking forget; he would never let you. You honestly don’t know why you still bothered trying to appeal to his better side, when it was evident such a thing never even existed in the first place.
“So, here’s how this is gonna go down…” a harsh grip latched on your jaw, forcing your face to meet his. It was absolutely odd—the expression he wore. It was as if he skinned the smiling face off another person and slapped it over his own, feeling utterly foreign and out of place.
“I’m going to keep knocking you up, and you’re going to keep being a good little wife by giving me all the babies I want… sound fair?” He spoke slowly, as if you were mentally impaired and required him to do so. You just blinked at him, biting your tongue until the sanguinary taste of copper washed over your taste buds, an acidic NO banging on the back of your teeth, demanding to seek an audience with the psychopathic peacock of a man that has been puppeteering your entire existence for nearly a goddamn year.
“What’s that?” He released his white-knuckled grasp on your creaking jaw, already mottled with dark, finger-shaped bruises, leaning forward and cupping that same hand behind an ear in exaggerated theatrics. “I’m not hearing a ‘Yes, Keigo. Whatever you want, Keigo.’”
You didn’t skip a beat, emptily peering back into those bottomless pools of tempestuous gold as you monotonously repeated, “Yes, Keigo. Whatever you want, Keigo.”
The crushing atmosphere in the room immediately lifted when he beamed at you proudly, like you were a particularly troublesome pet that finally performed its first trick. “Good! Now then…” Keigo swiftly scooted back, slapping your thigh playfully before gesturing at you impatiently, feathery brows raising at you in haughty expectance. “Assume the position.”
You didn’t have any colorful remarks to inwardly offer him as you rolled over, robotically maneuvering yourself onto your hands and knees. You didn’t move a muscle, silently awaiting the inevitable.
A hot, breathy laugh washed over your trembling sex, and you couldn’t withhold the startled twitch that ran through you, nearly forcing your ass back into his face.
“Would you look at that, kids? Mommy’s dripping.”
You were horrified, completely forgetting who exactly shared the room with you. A worried glance over your shoulder was swiftly intercepted by a firm press between your shoulder blades, forcing your face to collide with the myriad of blankets that littered your bed. Your pleas for him to move them into another room were too muffled to be discernable by ear, but not for another part of him.
…As if he’d listen to you, anyhow. Anyone or anything—save for yourself—that attempted to interrupt this moment would promptly get a feather in their throat. He could always make more kids, so it wasn’t like it really mattered if one occasionally was caught in his crosshairs.
Oh, if only you knew what you were truly dealing with. You’ve only seen a fraction of the horrors Keigo Takami was capable of. But as long as you’d just be a good little breeding bitch, you wouldn’t ever have to see the rest of that unsavory side of him—and that’s all there was to it.
“Oh, how I’ve missed you…” It seems he wasn’t addressing you specifically, what with his face being smushed reverently against one of your ass cheeks, alternating in nuzzling the soft globes of flesh as if he couldn’t dare to commit to just one.
“Have you missed me too? Did this pretty little kitty miss daddy?” God, no… but the heat radiating off his lasciviously outstretched tongue, looming above your defenseless pussy like a scavenger over a fresh corpse, had your nerves singing in a venerated symphony of yes, yes, yes. You shook your head, clenching bundles of fabric into your tearfully scrunched face as if they would protect you from the hungry wolf salivating on your cunt like it was an open wound.
“Yeah, daddy’s missed you too,” he whispered into your traitorously drenched folds, lips intertwining with your own in some lecherous mockery of a lover’s kiss. You took pride in being able to smother the majority of the warbled whine that sought to answer the beckoning call of his devilish mouth, but it didn’t quite matter when you were gushing onto his serpent of a tongue like you were a broken water fountain, anyhow.
“Fuck, you taste better than I remember,” he rasped, lapping at your drooling hole like a man parched half to death presented with an oasis, silky soft hands urgently rubbing and pushing your blushing cheeks open for the thorough perusal of more than just one orifice. The perks of always wearing gloves, you suppose. His hands were baby smooth, and yet sculpted to perfection; they were quite lethal against particularly sensitive things—you being one of them. You’re pretty sure you weren’t always this sensitive, though…
As if to prove your point, a salaciously prolonged stroke from your clit to your rear entrance had you jolting nearly a few inches off the bed, wriggling as if to escape the hungry sucks on your puckered rim. You gasped in scandalized disgust, as if these few weeks of being spared from his overwhelming lust had reset your tolerance for his kinkiness. Why did he always have to be so fucking gross?
The sound of Keigo’s unrestrained whines reminded you of a cat in heat. He was hardly coming at you with any coordination whatsoever, but by his sheer voracity alone had your back bowing and sex pulsating, dewy and desperate for a reunion with a certain fullness that was undoubtedly suffering similar sentiments.
“Sorry, baby… gotta — gotta be inside you,” he wheezed like a dying animal when your folds, all spread and waiting as if they truly were welcoming him home, sweetly embraced the head of his cock. Dampened, carved abdominals draped across your back while he prepared to enter your moist heat, rippling pectorals sweeping across your shoulder blades as soft, slick-slathered lips attached to the crook of your neck. He felt every bit like the title he wore, like an instrument of power capable of ending your existence in but a blink. Even without those feathers, you never stood a chance, and you were a fool for entertaining the notion for even a second.
You couldn’t quite describe it, the feeling of him penetrating you for the first time since forcing two humans out of yourself. You assumed it would ruin your parts irrevocably, which would kinda be a plus in the grand scheme of things. No more pussy equals no more horny bird, you thought. You thought.
Life definitely picked sides, and it definitely wasn’t on yours.
Jesus, you were already cumming. How the fuck were you already cumming? He was supposed to be the one losing his primitive mind over this bullshit—not you.
Not to say he wasn’t, with the obscenely telltale shlicks of his mindless jackhammering, horrifically pronounced by a creamy coating of fresh cum. You weren’t the only quick shot in the room, it seems.
Your body’s reaction to insemination was debilitating, because unlike before, it utterly craved it now. Like a switch was flipped, ever since his seed took root in you for the first time. More babies, it screamed. More, more, more.
“How do you feel even better?” His breath was scalding against your ear, voice thick with adulation and trickling down your spine to drip into the well of your gut, filling it to the brim with him.
“Goddamn,” he laughed incredulously, thrusting into you with a newfound fervor that threatened to grind your bones into a fine paste, wings accompanying each fleshy collision with a gusty flap that whipped your hair all over. “Milfs really are the move.”
Your gums were throbbing with that unnecessary little quip, the need to bite down on something preferably his dick overwhelming you to the extent of chomping on the blankets your face was smothered into. Everything he said, everything he did, seemed to rouse two halves of yourself that desperately wanted to maim the other. You genuinely hoped, at some point, one would finally succeed. Be it the side that loathed Keigo, or the one that appallingly did not—you didn’t care. You just wanted to be free of this conflict inside of you, if you couldn’t at least be free of him.
“Shit, you feel so good—” The weight of his torso flattened against your back suddenly lifted, a stinging pressure against your scalp taking its place, forcing your face from its comfort within the soft blankets and into a painfully elevated angle. You were slack-jawed from the combined sensations of your roots being pulled and your pussy being relentlessly split in two, no choice but to add your ragged gasps to the cacophony of lewd sounds reverberating off the walls.
Your watery gaze shifted to the large windows providing a view of Musutafu, glittering innocently off in the distance, and you momentarily wondered what life was like back in Kamino. Did your friends, the few that you had somehow managed to maintain, miss you? Did anyone miss you, you wondered.
Hot, syrupy spunk spurted against your cervix with leg-shaking pressure, effectively shutting the power off in your brain entirely, memories of your previous life brushed away like dust on a shelf. Quick breathy gasps of mine, mine, mine accompanied each rabbit-like thrust into your pulpy softness, greedily riding the waves of each generous squirt from his swollen tip. You felt beyond stuffed by this point, but you knew he wasn’t through with you just yet. Keigo never stopped at just one creampie, let alone two.
Rivulets of pearly white semen followed his hasty retreat from your flooded cunt, thwarted from dripping off the peak of your mound as you were swiftly flipped onto your back. Gravity guided the viscous fluid down your folds and back inside once more as it caught on the head of his cock, the insatiable thing already forcing itself back into your addictive warmth as if it intended to take up permanent residence there—an absolutely filthy and wet squelch followed.
You weren’t surprised to find your knees knocking against your chest shortly after, and a grinning face, glistening with a thick sheen of sweat earned from a thorough breeding session hovering just over your own.
He didn’t say anything, for once—just burrowed into the very depths of your soul with those inhuman eyes, as he always did in the fleeting moments before the denouement of these fucked up performances he so loved to indulge in.
Your gazes remained tethered as he lowered his flushed face to your chest, spreading your legs more to accommodate him, raising your lower half off the bed and further onto his turgid length.
Keigo released his lower lip from his aching incisors, tonguing the beads of crimson that bubbled to the surface slowly, like savory hor d'oeuvres before the main dish. You were unable to withhold the shiver invoked from the sight of his red-stained smile, but he apparently interpreted it as a positive, if the cheeky swirl of his hips was anything to go by.
“Been craving your milk all day. Couldn’t drink anything else because there was just no point if it wasn’t yours…” he gave your leaking tits a pointed glance, throat bobbing over a mouthful of drool. “I’m so thirsty.”
“B-but Keigo,” you whispered beseechingly, eyes averting to the ceiling—you wouldn’t have the strength to speak the rest of your mind under the weight of that cunning raptor gaze. “That isn’t… for you.”
You couldn’t see his expression, but the immediate tightening of his grip on the back of your thighs spoke volumes itself.
“Not for me?” His head cocked curiously, calmly. You could feel the tip of his nose poke at the edge of a puffy areola, rubbing the tingling flesh without a care as to what chaos such a simple action wrought upon your delicate nervous system.
“But wasn’t it made… because of me? Why wouldn’t it be for me if it was made because of me?” He sounded genuinely at a loss, and that definitely concerned you, but by this point, you’ve amassed enough red flags dating back to the moment you met him to fashion a rope for climbing down this prison suspended in the trees. If only literally.
“They’re for the kids, Keigo,” you said slowly, as if he were a startled animal that needed to be spoken softly to, or at least as best you could with him attempting to rail you through your mattress and the flooring beneath.
“Tch.” His gaze darkened beneath the storm clouds of his possessive fury, the rumbling thunder escaping through his snarling mouth and onto your pulsing nipple. “They can drink that store-bought shit for all I care. I may be the number two hero, but I’m number one priority.”
“I don’t think—AH!” The sound of your piercing shriek most certainly woke your children—if they weren’t awake already. You couldn’t quite hear much over the blood broadcasting your hummingbird heartbeat in your eardrums as your tit was voraciously sucked on like it was a juice box, though.
Keigo greedily siphoned the ambrosial milk from your swollen teat, chest rumbling with pleased purrs as he savored your addictive, sorely missed flavor. That aureate gaze instantly brightened, as if your energy were flowing directly into him, relieving him from a day’s worth of exhaustion and hunger. Those tightly pursed lips worked over time, sucking you for all your miserable worth.
“Why are you like this…?” Your voice was faint and airy, almost like an afterthought, tumbling past your lips seemingly without reason, nor expecting any legitimate response in return.
“Why?” He detached from your breast with a wet smack and a husky chuckle, “Why not?”
You attempted to sling an arm over your eyes and just disassociate for the rest of this nightmarish endeavor, but obviously you weren’t to be permitted such a kindness. A pair of long red feathers intertwined with your wrists, the makeshift crimson shackles roughly jerking your arms back and over your head. You knew better than to struggle against them, against him.
Both of Keigo’s hands enveloped your breasts, squeezing the doughy flesh until thin streams of white squirted from their tips, splattering his chest. His grin was wide and comprised entirely of teeth that seemed sharper than before, glinting from the light of the moon that felt like it was hovering just outside your windows. He continued to milk you, as if you were a goddamn factory cow, as he reared back to plunge into you at a more precise angle.
If his balls were a sight before then they were certainly a spectacle now, being utterly taut and still swollen to absolute capacity with sperm, colliding against your ass cheeks with heavy smacks as he beared down on you like a beast in a rut. His grip on your chest grew tighter, your whimpers of pain spurring him to drain you to the last drop as those eyes like crystallized honey misted over, unruly brows furrowing over his lidded gaze.
He wasn’t going to last much longer, and if you were being honest with yourself, neither were you. Then again, you weren’t faring too well since the moment you laid eyes on his raw cock. You could curse his existence and call him every pejorative word under the sun, but at the end of the day, the thing that sat at the apex of those chorded thighs commanded your absolute subservience—and a budding part of yourself, growing amongst the decaying pieces of your sane mind, was oh so ecstatic to give it.
“Here comes another one, mommy. You ready for it?” You could barely hear shit, nor see through the fat tears pooling in your waterlines and gathering at your tear ducts, so you just nodded and sniffed through your runny nose and hoped it would suffice for whatever the hell he just asked of you.
“Yeah?” He was the embodiment of the cat that ate the canary, hunkering down over your helpless form and leaning in close as to goad directly in your ear, “You want it deep in your naughty little pussy? Get knocked the fuck up again, hm?” If you weren’t already.
That you could hear, feeling the vibrations of his silky resonance reverberate within your hollowed skull, travel through your veins and in the marrow of your bones. Yes, you could hear him loud and clear, and you made it known, because when Keigo asked you something you better fucking answer.
“Uh-huh,” you breathed against the curve of a sharp cheekbone, tenderly nuzzling your nose into his wet temple as your calves bounced against his sculpted shoulders with each frenetic thrust. Your sweet, rare display of affection was met with a mean tug to your roots, forcing your head back into a painful angle and stinging tears to fall into your hairline.
“Say it like you fucking mean it,” he growled into the long column of your neck, wings flared wide and nearly high enough to touch the ceiling, each individual feather shaking at frequencies high enough to emit a faint hum. It was quite an unsettling sight—a far cry from the images depicting similar poses donned by billboards and buildings citywide. It was villainous.
You complied without hesitation. “P-please! Oh God, please… please knock me up…” you whined, speech slurring and dissolving into incomprehensible babbles. You would say anything to appease him at this point.
“Mm, good girl…” The grip fused to your aching roots was relinquished in favor for a firm hold on your throat, just tight enough to have the inklings of black bleeding into the peripheral of your vision. Your pussy was squeezing him so tight it felt like you were trying to castrate him, and god help him, he couldn’t fucking get enough. “It’s daddy’s turn to dish out the milk, ‘kay? So just sit tight and take it all for me. No ifs ands or buts, baby.”
You didn’t respond, more so couldn’t, being frozen in a wide-eyed gasp and barely discernable wheezes escaping the sealed off section of your throat. You were so unbelievably wet and gooey, a cascade of slick and spunk following each retreat from your soiled cunt.
Fat, throbbing veins and engorged glans scraped against your spongy walls in a feral rhythm, plump balls slathered in your combined filth sticking to your clammy cheeks like glue… All were perfect ingredients for cooking up a familiar pressure in a certain part of your pussy—a certain pressure you dreaded.
He seemed to sense your subconscious turmoil, or at least saw what was approaching through the spasming walls attempting to force him out, and the little cloudy dribbles of fluid leaking from your twitching urethra. It started off a slow trickle, but once Keigo caught on to what was happening—which was basically immediately—it was all over for you.
He was basically squatting over you now, the weight of gravity aiding in driving his meaty girth all the way to the gummy nodes of your cervix as you screamed like bloody murder, squirting like a geyser all over his horrible, perfect cock. His moans were certifiably pornographic, unrestrained and smug to an insufferable degree as every last drop of his seed was drained from the bloated testes crammed against your puffy lips, pooling deep in the welcoming pocket of your womb. You were officially at maximum capacity, stuffed with so many generous loads.
“You nasty bitch—” He choked on a guttural laugh, not sounding upset in the slightest. “Makin’ a mess all over my cock. Good thing I like you so much, huh?”
He was still humping into you—not that you could tell in your utterly catatonic state—dick still as stiff as a rebar, and just as lethal.
The world around you shifted, and you felt the weight of your body slump against a damp wall of muscle, your face falling into the crook of a warm neck. You sighed softly, snuggling into the tantalizing source of heat, unbeknownst to the lazy gyrations of trim hips, or the fat cock stirring your soupy insides like a ladle.
Only after pumping out a portion of a month’s worth of nut into his wife’s post-postpartum pussy did Keigo finally become aware of the loud crying coming from the far corner of the room. Boy did they sound spooked.
“Don’t worry kiddos…” His chuckle was gravelly and lethargic, absolutely lackadaisical to the predicament of his offspring losing their tiny minds only a few footsteps away. They probably thought you were being eaten alive or something, given the way you were screeching to the high heavens mere seconds ago. How adorable… he wanted at least ten more. “Mama’s just gotta make Papa cum a few more times, and then she’s all yours.”
You’d be disgusted, him speaking so casually to your children whilst still being balls-deep in your runny cunt, but you quite frankly didn’t have a brain cell to spare on the matter. Consciousness was rapidly escaping you, and as a feathery cocoon of varying crimson hues embraced the two of you, separating you from all outside distractions and effectively entrapping your vulnerable body for his full perusal, you innocently wondered if your next child would also inherit his wings—before succumbing to the blissful nothingness of a dreamless sleep. You never dreamt anymore.
Not since Keigo Takami happened.