#tw: chikan

[merakiui]

angel/angler.

yandere!azul ashengrotto x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, nsfw, stalking, non-con, non-consensual photography, chikan/groping (train molestation), obsession, kidnapping/captivity, drugging, violence, blood, death (or is it??), azul's insecurities and low self-esteem, azul’s not-so-subtle breeding kink, implied disordered eating, reader's height isn't described, but it's written that azul is taller note - to obsess is to hunger like an angler from the deep sea. living his entire life in pitch-black solitude, entranced by an angel's halo; his only purpose is to find the body that will become his lifeline and, one day, his cemetery.

entry 1: 18 April, 20XX.

For anonymity’s sake, I’ve chosen to write using a vague pronoun. Additionally, this diary will be a record of my thoughts so that I can keep my mind and senses intact. In my youth, I was prone to terrible fits of self-destructive rage, and as a result they suggested I write my feelings down to prevent any outbursts. I’m not very physical towards others. Rather, it was the harm I posed to myself that fostered concern.

But this space isn’t for my own views on myself. It’s about someone else. 

I have a confession: I’ve fallen in love with you from the train, and I’ve been in love with you for the four months I’ve come to know you.

You wear perfectly pressed suits, heels of a modest height, tights, and pencil skirts that cut just at your knees. I want to touch you, but if I do you might stop wearing skirts altogether and then I’ll never see your legs again. I suppose trousers aren’t so unattractive. They’re appealing in their own right. Everything looks good on you, though. (Nothing would look even better.)

You work in an office building. I’m not sure which floor, but I’ll know soon enough. I wanted to follow you inside, but there’s a security guard in the lobby. He always greets you, and you always smile and chat with him. You’re a kind person, so I let this pass without incident. But I can’t lie to these pages and say it’s not troublesome when I watch his gaze linger longer than it needs to. 

I’d kill him, but then they’d employ a new guard and you’d make friends with him because you’re so kind. I don’t admire kind people. Rather, I find kindness to be a double-edged blade (Is that the correct phrasing? It’s different in my hometown. We say kindness is like pufferfish—harmless until it’s provoked and then it becomes poisonous). It’s not that I look down on kind people. I just think you shouldn’t be so quick to befriend the world in its entirety.

After plenty of observation, I’ve learned that you often leave your building to get lunch by yourself. This is what you’ve eaten in the week:

Monday - A salad at a popular café. Iced tea because it was a sunny day. A tiny cheesecake for dessert. It was blueberry.

Tuesday - A wrap of some kind. Chicken? Or was it vegetarian? Sweet potato fries. Water.

Wednesday - You didn’t leave your building. Were you at work today? 

Thursday - Another salad. Water. Same café. No tiny cheesecake.

Friday - You went to lunch with that guard. I only remember my irritation and so I’m afraid I can’t make note of your meal for today. He looks at you like an obsessed puppy waiting for its owner to give it attention. I want to pluck his eyes from his sockets so he’ll never look at you in that way again.

You lead a healthy lifestyle, but I can’t help wondering if you’re eating well. Did someone say something about your figure? I’ll eviscerate them for you and then they can see how much it hurts when unnecessary scrutiny is thrown around.

It’s quite late. I want to sleep, but thinking about you has my body wide-awake. I wonder if your mouth tastes like the moonlight shining in through my window. I wonder if your body is soft like mine… Of course it is. A silly, irrational thought. You’re much warmer than me. This is just a theory. I’ve yet to feel and confirm for myself. I will in the foreseeable future.

Before we part ways, I want you to know that I’m not very good at cooking. I’ve picked up a few books and hope to learn. I’m going to practice so that I can feed you better meals one day. Salads are the worst. Fried chicken is the true meal of heaven. I’m certain you would share this sentiment.

If I were to be condemned to a last meal like those serial killers on death row, I’d ask for fried chicken. Knowing you, you’re too good to kill anyone. In this hypothetical, supposing you’re a heinous criminal, your last meal would be something healthy. Do you even like those salads, or are you forcing yourself because you must? I understand calorie-counting well enough, but if there’s one thing to enjoy in life it should be food.

I suppose that makes me a hypocrite. I ought to take my own advice.

Oh. I’m starting to grip my pen with more force and the lines have become shaky. I usually break my writing utensils if my focus strays. I’ll stop here for today. Ink is a pain to clean.

AA.

The morning rush is your greatest enemy.

Jack Howl, the lobby’s security, has suggested giving you a ride on numerous occasions. “It’s part of the reason I got my license,” he explained once, “so that I can protect those who work in this building from the rush. Not like you have to accept my offer. It’s just…convenient for both of us. Again, I don’t care what you do.”

(He does. You see through his gruff surface.)

According to him, the morning and night rushes bring out the worst kinds of characters.

But isn’t that everywhere? you think as you peer out the window, watching the city come into clarity.

Like every morning, the train car is more crowded than a sardine tin. You’re used to being pressed up against other commuters, pinned to the window or between people. You’re flattered to know someone’s concerned, but nothing has happened yet. And why would it? It’s bright outside. No one would dare do something during the day. At least, not in a crowded area where anyone could see and hear.

I wonder what I should have for dinner. I still need to go shopping. My fridge is way too empty, you think, sighing. And I need to follow up with that one author. They’ve yet to get back to me about my edits. Perhaps we should meet in the office instead of through video call… And I also need to finalize that other style sheet after the last round of editing. And then another conference… There was something else. Was I scheduled to have lunch with an author? Or was that next week? I should check before—

The train shudders as it slides into the station. Someone brushes against you from behind. Their hand is pressed against the window just near your head. They steady themselves, their body so close to yours you can hear their staggered breathing.

“Ah. S-Sorry…”

It’s next week, right? I really should check once I get to my stop. This is going to eat me alive all day.

“Mhm,” you hum, waving dismissively.

The stranger standing behind you peels his hand away from the window. A sweaty palm print is left in its wake.

“We will be approaching the next stop shortly.”

Just one more and you’ll be getting off.

A pair of bright eyes blinks back at you in the reflection, watching the city just as you are.

entry 5: 22 April, 20XX.

I’m not a social person by any means. If I can avoid crowds, I usually do. An introvert’s paradise is best spent in the comfort of their own room, after all. But if you prefer outdoor dates I can become extroverted for your sake. There are lots of things I’m willing to do for your sake.

Which is why I’ve forced myself to tolerate the train. I loathe it. It’s cramped and uncomfortable. Most days I’m not even near you, and so all I can do is stare longingly from afar. I content myself with imaginary scenarios like in the books you edit. I’ve mentioned it sparsely in this diary, but you’re a brilliant editor. Most of the novels you work on aren’t exactly my taste, but there’s something to appreciate about them. Reading through them knowing your very eyes pored over these pages dozens of times before publication… I admire your work. Immense time and effort goes into all professions, especially ones that involve meticulous touches. 

With this discussion of careers, you might wonder what I do for a living. I manage my own restaurant chain off-site. It must be shocking news for you to realize: your secret admirer is actually quite successful.

If I’m not able to provide an adequate life—no, more than that. If I cannot drown you in all of life’s luxuries, I should sooner throw myself on the beach and let this soft, wriggling body of mine dry out than settle for the barest of minimums. You deserve only the finest.

In fact, I have a room in my home dedicated to you. A private office in which you can write and edit in peace. It’s furnished with everything you’d ever need. I hope to gift it to you one day.

Remote work is very relaxing. (You’ll know this once you try it here.) When you’re boss, you work your own schedule. That’s why I’m able to fit our secret meetings into my weekly itinerary.

Today’s meeting was quite fortuitous. I felt like I’d won the lottery. Mostly because I was finally given the opportunity to be close to you. So close, in fact, that you didn’t even notice when I slid my phone under your skirt to take a few photos. Your undergarments are unexpectedly plain. Truthfully, I’m somewhat disappointed. I was hoping to learn your lingerie preferences. At the very least, I know your tights are sheer enough to show me the color of your panties.

I consider myself a connoisseur of many things, and I’ve done enough interior decorating in my time to become well-accustomed to color palettes. A fool would say your panties are red, but they’re actually maroon.

That same fool wouldn’t take another breath after glimpsing such a private side of you.

If you must know, my dear, I am excessively avaricious when it comes to the things I like. I have always been this way. I am a collector. A hoarder of secrets. I refuse to let others touch or take the things that belong to me, especially when they are wholly undeserving…

I’ve broken another pen. Thankfully, the mess wasn’t so extreme. Not-so-thankfully, I’ve lost my train of thought.

Ah. Right. Trains.

Today I rode the train, and I was standing right behind you. You were looking out the window, lost in your thoughts, and so you didn’t notice me. You must have seen my reflection, but I wear a mask and a hooded sweatshirt when I go outside. Perhaps it’s a touch embarrassing to admit, but I am very self-conscious of the way I look. Firstly, my eyes are too tired. I’ve read that many people are not fond of eyes with dark circles under them. Secondly, my face is average—unworthy of your love by my lofty standards. My hair never cooperates. My smiles never fit properly. My skin is too pale. My eyes are too blue and my pupils are abnormal. My weight is just a few kilograms above the average. I will work hard to bring it back down for your sake and for my own so that it won’t show. I prefer a slim waist, so I must stomach all manner of healthy foods for the weekend. What a pity… Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you could eat whatever you wanted without having to worry about caloric intake and numbers on a scale?

That aside, there are times in which my glasses sit crooked on my face and it’s a horrifying thought to imagine I walk around looking like that! As if I’ve rolled right out of bed with no regard for my appearance whatsoever!

Perhaps the both of us share one similarity. We are vain creatures who care too much about how we present ourselves to others.

Thus, I conceal myself so that you won’t judge me harshly should you look upon me. Not like you’d do that. You were so immersed in your head that you hardly paid any attention to your surroundings. You should be more careful. What if something were to happen and I wasn’t there to protect you?

The train stuttered to a halt at the first stop, and some fool bumped into me. I should thank them because I got to brush against you. You gasped softly. I watched your breath fog the window. I placed my hand just above your head and apologized softly, and you weren’t bothered in the slightest. Oh, how I envy your carefree nature.

As a result of that stranger’s mishap, I’ve learned something new. You wear perfume. Even with my mask, I could smell it. Strong and flowery, overwhelmingly sweet. Maybe you prefer these scents? I’m more partial to mature scents, but I admit there’s a certain charm to the scents you wear. I wish I knew the exact brand. There are dozens of perfumes with the same notes as the ones I picked up, but none can compare to the one you use. I want to be able to hold the bottle knowing it’s your favorite.

I’ve prattled enough. With the length of my entries, you’d assume I was this chatty beyond the page. I’m not. I only say as much as I think is necessary.

Once again, I’m having trouble falling asleep. I can’t stop thinking about you. I’m looking through the photos I snapped and the outline of your lips against your panties is lovely. I’m sure you’re just as soft and sweet inside as you are on the outside. If only I could experience it right now. My hand can’t replicate the softness or the wetness or the way you’ll probably clamp down when we finally make love.

I can only fantasize for now. What a pain. 

AA.

“It’s going to rain today,” Jack tells you the minute you step through the lift doors into the lobby. He stands straight like a soldier, his shoulders squared and features set into something serious.

“Looks like it, huh?” You glance at the darkening sky outside, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Hopefully it rains after I get home. I didn’t bring an umbrella.”

“I’ll drive you.” He falls into step beside you. “It’s dark out and the station is—”

“It’s only five minutes away. I’ll be fine. I take this way all the time.”

Jack’s lip twitches into a grim frown. The beginnings of a sharp, pearly-white canine flashes at you as his mouth curls. “Fine,” he concedes with a huff. Awkwardly, he scratches the back of his neck and looks elsewhere. “Do what you want. I’m not forcing you or anything.”

You smile at him. “You’re very considerate, Jack. I appreciate the concern.”

He’s like a puppy. It’s really sweet.

“W-Wha—who said anything about concern?” His face is growing warmer by the second, thawing his external ice.

“I’ll be okay. It’s not even that dark out either.”

“Still…” He sighs and cards his hand through his hair. “You haven’t noticed anything weird lately, have you?”

“Anything weird?” You furrow your brows, suddenly confused.

“On your way home. Nothing out of the ordinary? It’s the same every day?”

“Mostly, yeah. Why? Did something happen?”

“No. Just wondering…” Jack looks past you then, searching for something you can’t seem to see. “You sure you don’t want a ride? I can walk you to the station. Protect you if anything or anyone—”

You force yourself to laugh. “Come on. You’re trying to scare me on purpose. This is because I told you I’m editing a horror novel, isn’t it?”

Jack doesn’t share in your humor. Instead, his frown tightens on his face.

“While I’m grateful you want to help, I really don’t want to put that on you. It’s not your job to chauffeur me around. I’d feel bad if I made you do that. So thank you, but I’ll have to decline.”

You turn swiftly on your heel before he can protest, striding out the door into the gloomy night.

When is it going to be summer? It’s way too chilly.

You burrow into your jacket as you beeline for the station. A brisk breeze blows through busy city streets. Even though there are still people out and about, it feels strangely desolate.

Jack’s heart was in the right place, but did he really have to phrase it like that? 

You wrap your arms around yourself and hurry along. Your steps are in time with your pounding heart. A cold sweat beads along your forehead. 

Relax. It’s nothing to get worked up over. I’m fine.

Crunch.

You whirl around, clutching your bag between your arms. There’s no one in sight. The city seems eerily quiet tonight.

Stop scaring yourself. Nothing’s there.

No, it’s not something that could make that sound—a noise akin to a footstep. That belongs to someone.

Is someone following you?

You aren’t going to wait around and find out. Now you’re jogging the rest of the way, your heels clicking against the pavement. Your breath comes in shaky heaves, and by the time you finally step into the station’s blinding fluorescents, adrenaline still vibrating through your veins, you notice the time.

My train—it’s already here! Thank you. Oh, thank you so much!

You rush through the station in a flurry, and the relief is tangible once you’re safe and sound inside the train car. You squirm through the throng of late-night commuters towards the window.

“Sorry. Excuse me. Pardon me,” you murmur as you navigate the crowded space.

You make it to the window just as the doors slide shut. Moments later, the train squeaks into motion.

I worked up such a sweat. I can’t believe I got so frazzled over something as small as a snapped twig…or whatever that was. It wasn’t a footstep. And if it was, it was probably my own.

You shake your head at your reflection.

Look at me, losing my mind all because I let someone’s words get to my head. 

The stranger standing behind you sighs alongside you. You’re about to turn around, but it’s their hands on your waist that stop you. Your blood freezes. Your spine goes rigid.

“Excuse me? Um… C-Can I help you?”

You gasp, horrified, as the hands creep higher until they’re wrapped around your chest. The stranger squeezes almost curiously. Their breath catches on an eager hitch. You peer helplessly at the window. Two blue eyes blink back.

“Wait… Hold on—”

“It’s okay.” A man’s voice. Sweet and silky-smooth. A reassuring whisper. Only you can hear it with this invasively close proximity. It might as well be a drop in the ocean that is the rickety din of the train on the rails. You reach to grab his arms, hoping to pry him off. “I’m not going to hurt you. As long as you’re quiet…”

“No, you can’t. Please, sir. S-Stop… Don’t touch there.” Your fingers curl around his wrists. You squirm against him, your brain blanking.

This can’t be happening… There’s just no way…

Something stiff prods at your ass from behind. You yelp softly when he rubs himself against you. You try to catch sight of his features when you crane your neck, but all you get is a faceful of a dark hoodie. He’s tall enough to block you from the other passengers, his body caging yours against the window. One hand slides away from your chest to slip under your skirt. He gropes at your inner thigh; his fingers draw dangerously close to private territory.

“Sir—”

He inhales a dreamy breath. “Perfect,” he babbles, his words muffled by his mask. “So perfect. Warm… And soft. Just as I thought.”

There’s nowhere for you to run. Nowhere to hide. You’re trapped here with this fiend until you get off at your stop.

“We will be approaching the stop shortly,” the woman on the intercom says, but it doesn’t give you the relief you’re after.

Three more stops and then you’ll be at yours. Three more. Three. Your stop might as well be years away.

Two fingers trace the outline of your pussy through your panties. You’re grateful you’re wearing tights.

His breathing is heavy. He’s mumbling filth in your ear. You hardly register it over the static in your brain.

Gross. So gross. Stop it. Please stop. I don’t want this.

A whine bubbles low in your throat when he presses down against your clit. He caresses you through the fabric of your panties. You slump against the window with your palms on the glass. Your heart is in your throat. You feel sick and dizzy. It’s too hot in here. Everything is spinning. Your heart is picking up its pace. Your hands are starting to shake. 

And there’s nowhere to go. No amount of begging will stop him. He’s all over you, pressed impossibly close—so close you think he’s trying to fuse his body to yours, becoming one mutual unit.

You want to scream, but you can’t find your voice. You can’t do anything. You can’t even think.

“Don’t be scared,” he murmurs, twining his fingers around your trembling ones. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Mmh, no… No—stop. P-Please, sir, please stop.” You shudder against him, and a choked, broken sob rattles through your ribs. 

He chuckles and squeezes your hand. His other circles your tender, sensitive clit, and the contact elicits a whimper from you. “Even though you’re making the cutest sounds? Aah, I wanna be inside you so badly… I’m sure it’s even softer there.”

You bite down on your bottom lip so hard that your teeth pierce the skin. A thin ribbon of blood dribbles down your chin. You refuse to give him that satisfaction. Even though your attempt to snuff your voice is successful, your body doesn’t seem to agree. It shakes in fear and arousal. When he presses against your panties next, he feels the growing damp spot. 

That’s just a natural reaction, right? I’m not actually aroused by this. There’s no way!

Just when you think he might pursue further, he pulls back. His hips are still flush to your ass. You can feel his cock straining against the fabric. It’s gross and demoralizing. You’re nothing but a doll for him to get off to. Less than a person.

The train glides to a halt and the doors open. People exit and enter in a busy fashion. You stare out the window at your blurred surroundings.

When the train eases back into motion, you realize tears are welling in your eyes. They don’t fall. Not yet.

It isn’t until you get off at your stop, sprint the rest of the way home, hurry up into your apartment, and lock the door that the horror of it all finally catches up to you. You collapse to your knees and wail like you’ve just lost something precious—something you’ll never be able to get back.

You’ve never felt more dirty before.

entry 36: 4 May, 20XX.

I did it. I finally did it.

My hand is shaking; I’m so happy. No, I’m more than happy. I’m absolutely overjoyed!

You don’t know this about me yet, but I’m terribly envious. I suppose that’s why I could muster the confidence to touch you and hold you… Your body is so soft against mine. Every inch of you is beautiful. I wish I could have felt beneath your shirt, lifted your bra to see your bare breasts in the window’s reflection. This is quite the shameless admission. Even I, despite admiring you for so long, am loath to admit it.

You mesmerize me. I’m already flustered just thinking about the way your hand fit in mine when I held it… And you were aroused! I was so close to such a precious area, and you were wet for me and only me. I feel so overwhelmed. It’s a dream come true. You’re such an angel. My angel.

My dear, darling angel, I’m sorry for startling you. That was the only way, you see, and certain circumstances led me to that point. You must understand.

To be unfiltered about it, it was annoying seeing that security guard pester you. I had the strongest urge to kill him, but that’s not something you can do on a whim. Murder is like running a business, in a way. One misstep, a bad investment or a sliver of evidence left behind, and it might spell the end.

That’s besides the point. It’s hardly worth the time. 

Regrettably, while on the train into the city, I noticed you were wearing trousers today. I was right. Last night was a once-in-a-lifetime event. A pity. Your legs in those sheer tights is a vision to behold. Luckily, I have enough pictures to satisfy the craving to see you in them. When you live with me, I’ll buy plenty of tights for you to wear around the house. That way you won’t have to worry if I rip them.

That aside, you’ve started looking over your shoulder more. You talked to that security guard longer than you normally do. It’s irritating. Quite frankly, it pisses me off.

I don’t want to be childish. I understand you’re stressed and nervous. Anyone would be. That’s normal. But I’m not going to hurt you. I even told you those exact words! I’m certain you would have calmed down if you could see my face. Unfortunately, I’m not very blessed in that department. I assure you my personality is far prettier…despite the ugly truths I’ve penned here.

But then those don’t matter when it comes to love. Even in love, couples are supposed to recognize and accept each other’s flaws. So it’s fine if I’m an ugly person. It’s fine if I’m a devil or something grotesque from the deepest trench in the sea. At least, in spite of such darkness, your halo will continue to light the way and I will always be lured in by your luminosity.

I can’t do much of anything right now and that has led me to feel increasingly itchy. I want to feel you again. Smell you. Touch you. I’d like to taste you next time. Part your legs or tear your skirt off and indulge in the space you keep hidden from me. I want to sink into your depths and know the shape of you just as you twist yourself to take the shape of me. 

It’s just not enough. I desire more of you. 

AA.

entry 40: 8 May, 20XX.

It’s been a few days. You haven’t taken the train since. Now you’re driven to and from work by that pest. I was overcome with such frustration yesterday that I slammed my hands down upon my desk and fractured my wrist. For the time being, until my wrist heals, I must wear this unsightly stabilizer-brace-thing and write carefully with my non-dominant hand. I like to consider myself ambidextrous, if only because it’s a talent I’m sure will impress you, as you seem to surround yourself with successful, talented people, but I must admit my lettering is rather…subpar.

It’s not as neat as I hoped it would be. Something to practice while my wrist heals, I suppose.

There’s only so much strain I can take, my angel. Are you really so afraid of me that you’ve chosen to rely on someone else to protect you? If it was funny, I’d laugh. But it’s not. It’s annoying. Must I chain you up by the throat so that you won’t run away? Must I cuff our wrists together so that neither of us can part ways? What must I do to ensure you’ll never leave me?

Every day I spend in solitude, you grow closer to everyone but me. It’s infuriating.

However, there are always silvers of hope to be found and exploited in misfortune. As a businessman, I know this well enough.

I can plan around this. I’ve taken a few photos of your house at every angle. It’s important to think ahead when making a calculated risk.

When you go to kidnap the love of your life, you must dress appropriately, no? Now should I wear a formal suit or something casual?

I have some time and plenty to look forward to.

AA.

Like always, early as usual, Jack is waiting for you below your apartment. You see his car from the window and light up at once.

It’s been two months since the incident on the train. Jack insisted you go to the police when you confided in him a week after the fact. But what could they do? A story isn’t evidence. Evidence is evidence. So to combat that, you’ve avoided public transport altogether. Jack drives you to and from work and anywhere else you need to go. You never knew him very well before this mess, and you regret not starting a friendship sooner. He’s everything you need right now: a friend, a listener, and someone you can trust and rely on.

Like always, he unlocks the door so you can put your things in the back. “It’s my turn to treat for lunch today, so let’s go somewhere you like.”

You shut the door and open the passenger side, sliding in seamlessly.

“There’s no need for that.”

Your heart skips. Your breath stumbles in your lungs. Your body tenses.

You finally look at the driver.

He’s wearing what appears to be an expensive collared shirt with a tie, but the top half is covered by the soft hoodie he’s thrown on over it. He has a mask like before, but there’s no denying his eyes. Bright and blue, deep and deceptive like the ocean, they blink back at you.

The door locks with a click.

You throw yourself at it in a useless effort to escape. The masked stranger seizes your wrist. You scream.

“There’s no need to be afraid. I-It’s only me! I won’t hurt you.” He tugs his mask down to his chin so that you can see the wobbly smile on his face. “Please don’t be scared…”

“Let go of me, you pervert!” You rip your arm free and reach for the door once more. “What the hell are you doing here?! W-Where’s Jack? Why are you—”

You choke around the rest of your words when he wraps his arms around you and yanks you over the seat towards him. You kick out like a deranged animal, breathing heavy and frantic, your eyes darting to and fro. The stranger manages to manhandle you into a chokehold despite the struggle. With his arm wrapped around your neck, he grabs a plastic water bottle with his free hand. Clumsily, he unscrews the cap and presses the lip of the bottle to your mouth.

“I’m sorry for being so rough, but I need you to drink this. Can you do that for me? Drink all of it.” As he says this, he tips the bottle and the strange liquid fills your mouth. You fight against his hold, doing everything you can to resist. He tightens his grip on you, dragging your body closer to his. “Swallow it, or I’ll slit your throat.”

Against your will, very shakily, you gulp down the solution. It tastes bitter and vile like medicine. A little salty.

“I didn’t want to frighten you, my angel, but this is the only way you’ll listen.” He swipes the tear threatening to spill from your eye. “You don’t have to cry. I’ll take you home and keep you safe. Just drink the rest of this and take a nap until we get there. That’s it. You’re almost done. I know it’s disgusting, but you have to drink it all, my love.”

“Why…” you sputter, coughing. “Why are you doing this?”

“Why?” He blinks at you as if the answer is obvious. “Because I love you.”

You can’t understand the logic there. You don’t want to.

Slumping against the seat, boneless and disturbed, you tremble when he leans over to buckle you in. And you continue to do so until you’re pulled into sleep. 

Two blue eyes follow you in your dreams, sticking to your body like old gum under a school desk. In sleep, you feel his hands on you—clinging and cloying like tentacles and the stench of brine, all-enveloping.

entry 179: 24 September, 20XX.

Summer is winding to a close. The last few vestiges of warmth are slipping away. Today’s weather was crisp. Autumn is approaching. 

It’s been a difficult few months. I’ve catalogued my process in the time you’ve spent with me, locked away in our bedroom. I must keep you chained to the bed for the time being. It’s long enough to lead into the bathroom. Until I can trust you, this is the arrangement at present.

They’re still searching for you, albeit not as frantically and frequently. I hope they assume you’ve met some grisly end so that I can finally shelve that anxiety and move on with my life. While I’m relieved it wasn’t as messy as I thought it’d be, I’m just a touch disheartened. I would have loved to watch the light fade from that guard’s eyes.

But that just wasn’t feasible or smart. Besides, what else am I to use my current fortune for, if not the props needed for that day? You call it kidnapping, and while that term is technically true I prefer something sweeter. A reunion of sorts. 

There’s nothing of note to discuss. You haven’t accepted your new home or me yet, so I will continue to wait. I can be patient. I must be if this relationship is going to work (and it will). 

I don’t particularly believe in soulmates. Rather, I find the concept to be foolish. Fate does not dictate an entire life. It is the decisions you make along the way that shape your paths. Just like in my favorite board game. I’d like to play it with you. Although I must admit I already know how our life goes. I have a few routes in mind.

You look at me with such scalding contempt when I imply we ought to start a family, and even though I’ve been victim to that look so many times it doesn’t burn any less. You just can’t see how good this is for you yet.

What else are we to do with our time if not use it to fill quiet halls with the pitter-patter of tiny feet? I have a few names in mind, but for now we’ll take it one day at a time. I’m a patient man despite my temper.

AA.

entry 257: 11 December, 20XX.

Exciting news! Though it may seem small, we’ve reached an understanding. Or so I suspect. You’re not so averse to me anymore. In fact, we take baths together, eat meals together, watch TV together, play board games together… There are so many things we do together as a couple and so, despite the encroaching winter frost, my days have become warmer! Just last night you allowed me to sleep beside you on our bed, and I held you close and you kissed me and I felt like the luckiest man alive.

Finally! Genuine progress!

I won’t delude myself and say that you may finally love me in the way I love you, but a start is a start. I admit I couldn’t help myself. I returned your kiss tenfold, all over your face, down the column of your throat to your collarbone. I was gentle and careful. I didn’t rush.

I like to play experienced in all fields, but even I can’t act perfectly. How should I describe our first time without all of the shameless vulgarity? Perhaps it doesn’t matter. Sex is sex no matter how you try to embellish it. Filthy and imperfect, sweaty and sticky, more effort and exercise than I realized.

You pulled me in close, pursued my mouth with the same want in mine, and it was more cathartic than anything I’ve ever known. Oh, to be kissed by the love of your life! I wasn’t aware such joy existed.

You palmed me through my pajamas and told me you wanted a family—that the idea of raising a little one was perfectly charming. I admit it’s an alluring thought I’ve had long before you lived with me. I’ve always thought you would look very enchanting while pregnant. I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands to myself. Even though it isn’t official yet, it doesn’t hurt to call myself your husband. In my mind and heart, we’re married. It may not seem so to you yet, but it will be.

Back to the matter at hand. Hearing that you wanted a child with me made me happy. I can’t remember if I cried. I must have because you pulled me in close and you, lying beneath me, wiped at my face and told me you wanted me to give you a child. And who am I if not the most doting, most benevolent husband? I’d do anything for you.

This must be what a predator feels when they tear into prey: a rapture so absolute and all-consuming that it covers their brain like a cotton shroud and renders every other action a hazy instinct.

It was a blur even though I was sure I moved slowly. Clothes weren’t exactly shucked. They were in the way and we had a singular goal, far too focused to remove them completely. Thus, they were pulled up, down, to the side, in whichever way provided easiest access. I closed my hands around your breasts and they feel so much softer without the obstruction of clothes.

Perhaps, rather than humans, we’re just anglerfish. Hungry for each other, using the other, a voracious relationship full of mutual benefits. If I could, I’d love to live inside you. I want nothing more than to press myself close enough to feel your heart beat alongside mine. To feel rushing blood. To turn myself inside-out just to satisfy you. Give you every little thing I can offer—brain and body—and we’d cleave through sunless waters as one, together forever.

The word ‘love’ is not large enough to truly encapsulate all that I feel for you.

My forehead pressed to yours. You kissed me once. I felt sloppy. I was sloppy. Inexperienced. We both are. Your hand wrapped around me. I told you it was okay, to do it at your own pace, to tell me if it hurts. But you kissed my every anxiety away, and in just a few strokes we were connected. Perhaps I died then and I’m still dead now.

Maybe I’m writing this from the moon or the deep, dark sea. Maybe all of this is just a long dream and I’m not even human. Maybe I’m the anglerfish stuck to your side, latched on with my sharp teeth, our lives forever intertwined. You taste of fruit and blood and every beautifully painful thing in this world.

For the first time in the many months we’ve lived together, you called me by my name. You gasped it as you curled your legs around my waist and clung to my chest, your arms draped over my neck, nails in my back. You chanted it like a song. I must have done the same with yours.

However, no amount of carnal euphoria can change the fact that I still have my reservations about unchaining you.

A deliberation for another day. It’s time to cook dinner. I’ve improved lots in the time we’ve known each other. You help around the kitchen as well. Harmless things like stirring batter or mixing a salad. I can’t trust you with actual food prep for reasons I’m sure are obvious and understandable. I try to create balanced meal plans. Now that I’m no longer eating alone and surviving off of misery, I want to show you that I’m both a great chef and a conscientious eater.

AA.

You watch the seasons shift outside the bedroom window and there’s nothing you can do.

You live life chained like a prisoner and there’s nothing you can do.

You eat off paper plates with the same utensils made for toddlers and there’s nothing you can do.

You let the same man whose touch was once so covetous pet you all over with his hands and mouth and there’s nothing you can do.

You’re stuck here forever and there’s nothing you can do.

There are highs higher than the clouds and then there are lows lower than the sea. You oscillate between these temperaments, a body thrown around on rocky waves. How you’ve yet to sink and drown for good, you’re not sure.

Today’s low has brought Azul to his knees. You stand over him, gripping the knife in a shaky hold. Chopped vegetables scatter in a rainbow on the floor. He had been chopping them so methodically, so wrapped up in pleasant conversation with you, that he hadn’t been expecting the retaliation. The blade is freshly sharpened. The perfect weapon. The perfect opportunity. Freedom just after this final hurdle.

Freedom that comes with its burdens—with a child and the law and the media and… And then what? A life of loneliness. A life spent working through mountains of trauma. A life in which you can never look at the train again.

Two blue eyes blink up at you. For the first time, Azul looks scared and weak—a small, pitiful thing. For the first time, you have him trapped beneath your thumb.

You want to bring the knife down and put an end to these cyclical days. You want to crush his spirits in the same way he crushed yours. You want him to know pain so brutal it rots him from the inside.

But you can’t. You want to and in an ideal scenario devoid of fear you would. But you can’t.

You dig your heel palms into your eyes and sob. “I can’t! I’m sorry. I… I can’t do it!”

Azul deflates with a deep sigh. “Oh… Oh, my angel, it’s all right. I forgive you. You’re just a little confused. A little emotional—I get it. We all have emotional moments. I’m not upset.”

“But I—I almost… I was going to—”

“You didn’t. You didn’t, my love, and that’s what matters.” 

He beckons you to his height; you lower to your knees. The knife is still clutched in your hands. He looks between it and you, as if weighing which is more dangerous. Volatile emotions or a blade. Maybe both.

Azul wraps his arms around you and rubs your back consolingly. “It’s okay. I’m not angry.”

You sniffle, but the tears won’t stop flowing. “Still… I almost did such a horrible thing to you. I could’ve hurt you—k-killed you!”

“My dear, it’s okay.” He kisses the top of your head, tucking you beneath his chin. “I forgive you.”

Your fingers tighten around the handle. “You do?”

“I do. I always will.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Angel—”

You turn the sharpened point inwards and slam it into his side, just below his rib. It pierces through soft flesh. You pull away just in time to see hurt and betrayal flash across his face, hot like the tears you’re now drying.

Shakily, his movements unsteady, he reaches for the handle. His fingers dance across it, assessing the reality of the situation. You stabbed him. You did it.

He hisses through his teeth when he tears it out. Blood spatters the kitchen floor in a brilliant, vermillion arc. Azul, knife in hand, staggers to his feet and lunges.

You stumble away in a blind panic. 

“How dare you…” He clutches his side with one hand while the other slashes through the air. You narrowly dodge before the knife can slice your arm. Blood seeps through Azul’s shirt, staining his palm red. His expression is twisted in a dark concoction of agony and anger. “I’ve shown you nothing but love and care… I’ve been nothing but patient. I’ve done everything! You were beginning to warm up to me—to this life—our life! I was wrong to trust you. Get back here—”

“You’re crazy! You assaulted me, kidnapped me, threatened me! Do you really think I’d love you after all of that?!” You yelp when his slick, blood-stained fingers wrap around your wrist to drag you down. “Stop! Let go of me!”

You elbow him in the ribs, which causes a shockwave of pain to travel through him, and it gives you enough time to wriggle free. Ripping your arm from his hold, you try to get away when he, aiming to subdue you, grabs hold of your ankle next. You feel the blade sink into your calf before you see it. A terrible cry frays your throat, torn from the depths of your chest like a flower pried from the soil.

“If I’m going to die…” He flops to his knees, wheezing. “If I’m going to die, you’ll die with me.”

“Like hell I will!” you hiss through your teeth, thrashing wildly.

Stupidly, you pull the knife from where it’s wedged in. Blood spurts from the wound, trickling down your leg in a thick, steady stream. You wince and limp towards the door. Closer… You’re almost there.

Azul reaches out with a bloodied hand, his expression utterly shattered. “Wait… Don’t go any further. Please… I need you. We need each other. My angel, my love, please don’t go!”

You tear your eyes away. He’s a monster. You’ll never sympathize with him.

Just before you can get to the front door, Azul picks himself up and wraps his arms around your waist. He pulls you down and your head hits the floor with a harsh smack. You see stars. The ceiling spins above you. You try to get up, crawl away, escape—whatever it takes to lose him—but he clings to your side, holding tight. His blood is warm and wet against your shirt. The pain in your calf is sparking up your leg, joining the ache at the back of your head in duet.

Pressed so closely, the flow of blood slows. Your shirt soaks up what the rest of his already drenched shirt can’t hold.

You watch the ceiling. The light looks like a halo; it shines brightly. Azul blinks up at you, hopelessly, sickly enthralled. The tip of the knife prods at your stomach. If it pierces, you don’t feel it. You’re sore all over. Bruises are already beginning to bloom.

At the bottom of the sea, clothed in frigid darkness, there is no sense of direction.

That’s the sweetest relief while you wade into unconsciousness with a parasitic angler.

[aizawasbrattyprincess]

l a t e  n i g h t  m e t r o

f!reader x vinsmoke sanji (op)

tw: nsfw + non-con + chikan + public sex + breeding + stalking + voyeurism 18+ MINORS DNI

word count: 1.4k

a/n: Shhh I know this is late + I know I said every Friday (sorry!). Anyway, our man Sanji will never violate a woman but in this modern AU Kinktober #3 fic, he just can’t help himself. As usual, don’t read if you’re uncomfortable with this! Thanks for all the support and hoped you guys have a great Kinktober.

⋆ Kinktober Masterlist

buy me a ko-fi?

゜。+。゜゜。*。゜゜。＋。゜*゜。゜。+。゜゜。*。゜゜。＋

00:27

Checking your wristwatch, you heaved a sigh of relief. You had made it to the station to catch the last train home with a few minutes to spare. Usually, you wouldn’t have left the office after midnight, always having to squeeze in between all sorts of nasty and inconsiderate people during the rush hour. If it wasn’t for your idiot boss who dumped a stack of last-minute paperwork on your desk, leaving you no choice but to work unpaid overtime, you would’ve been in bed by now, all snuggled and ready to get some sleep before your alarm rang promptly at six a.m. You needed to quit your job fast, and you were tempted to write your resignation letter as soon as you got home. Your mood further soured when the sudden gust of wind made you shiver. In your haste to leave, you had forgotten to wear your jacket left hanging on your chair, and your short pencil skirt wasn’t helping much. You knew you should’ve worn pants.

Your eyes wandered around the station platform, noticing a few others waiting while glued to their devices. No one stood out, but the same uneasy feeling returned. It was as if someone was watching you from afar. This had been going on for two weeks, at the same station every time you got off work. You had confided in a trusted friend, but that was it. There wasn’t any evidence that someone was watching you, and even if they did, you couldn’t report them to the police for staring. Reaching into your shoulder bag, you pulled out your phone and pretended to text. It was dead, and you didn’t have a portable charger. Hopefully, you won’t need your phone. With the train approaching, you shook it off and took a deep breath. There was no use overthinking; you were probably imagining things from being tired and paranoid.

Stepping into the nearly empty train carriage, you decided to stand near the opposite doors and watch the moving skyline, hoping it would calm you down. It did, for a little while, until you felt stray hands lightly touching your hips. Shit, shit, shit, why did you let your guard down? Alarmed and tensed up, you tried to push the hands away, only for them to snake around your waist, holding you tighter. You caught a whiff of strong cologne and cigarette smoke from the body pressed against yours.

“Finally, I was worried I didn’t see you today. You didn’t tell me you were getting off work this late. It’s not safe, darling,” a male voice whispered.

You timidly looked at the reflection in the windows. The male, his blond hair covering the right side of his face, was much taller than you and dressed elegantly in a black, double-breasted suit with a pinstripe shirt underneath. He was handsome and a hundred per cent your type; you would’ve easily said yes to a date with him. However, his eyes were glazed with nothing but lust. There was no denying he was your stalker, and you needed to get yourself out of there.

“Let go of me,” you demanded, but your voice sounded small over the sounds of the moving vehicle running along the tracks.

He let out a chuckle. Letting you go would be the last thing he’d ever do. He had been waiting to get you for so long — the endless nights he spent thinking about you, dreaming of having you in his arms. He knew he had to have you the minute he laid eyes on you. 

“You look so pretty today, wearing a little skirt like this. You really do know what I like, hmm?”

His right hand slid between your thighs, spreading them open and then caressing you slowly. You frantically tried to squirm out of his grasp but to no avail while trying to get the attention of someone else who could help you. However, the only other passenger was at the far end of the carriage, sleeping in his seat with headphones on, his heavy metal music on blast. You felt helpless as he continued to hike your skirt further up, his fingers running along your clothed slit. You were wet, though you’d never thought you’d be. Shaking your head in raw panic and denial, you begged him to stop as tears began to prick the corner of your eyes.

“Shh, hey, no crying now. Just relax for me and listen to your body,” he coaxed, pushing your panties to the side. “I’ll make you feel good. Promise you that.”

You bit your bottom lip, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of entertaining him. However, at the first feel of his long fingers dipping inside you, you arched your back involuntarily, and a sweet little cry escaped your parted lips. God, you were so intoxicating. He thought it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. His fingers moved in and out rapidly, wanting to see you come undone before him. Unable to hide his impatience, his other hand practically ripped the top buttons off your blouse before unclasping your bra to fondle your breast. He softly sucked on your nape while his fingers pinched and twisted your sensitive nipple, bringing you to the edge and back. You could barely register anything, the overwhelming euphoria beginning to fog your mind. This man was violating you, yet you enjoyed it, willingly submitting to him. 

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me- Shit, I can’t take it any longer. I need you. I need to feel you.”

He took his fingers out of you, leaving you empty for a brief second before his thick cock sunk inside you. He had been so excited that he had forgotten to use the condom he had brought in his trousers pocket. You screamed out in pain and pleasure, eyes rolling to the back of your head. He was too big for you, but he assured you with endless praises and kisses that you could take him. All you could do was press your palms onto the windows for support, legs trembling and your walls clenching tightly around him as he drove hard and fast into you. Deep, guttural groans filled your ears while his fingers circled your clit skilfully. 

“Sanji,” he said suddenly, starting to pant. He was reaching his limit, and he knew you were too. “Fuck, darling, need you to moan my name.”

He flipped you around, clumsily pulling down your panties before hoisting you up, your bag falling to the floor. His pace remained unrelenting, and you instinctively wrapped your arms and legs around him, needing to feel closer to him. Pleasantly surprised that you had kissed him first, Sanji returned your kisses with more passion and hunger. And then, you shamelessly cried his name as you both orgasmed, his cock pulsing within your walls as his warm seed filled you up completely. He stayed inside you for a good minute, ensuring his cum wouldn’t spill out before helping you wear your stained panties. He then removed his blazer, letting you wear it to cover up your body.

“I don't want to let you go, but that’s all the time we have,” Sanji said, reaching to caress your cheek. “I’ll be seeing you tomorrow at five. Don’t be late again. All right, darling?”

You hadn’t realised that you were almost reaching your stop and that the man in the carriage had woken up long ago, no longer listening to his music. Looking up at the blonde, you found yourself nodding obediently, not knowing what else to say or do. Did you really want to see him again? And were you actually looking forward to the next meeting?

There was a brief automated announcement, and the train doors opened. Giving you a peck on the cheek, Sanji wished you good night and a safe trip home before handing you your bag and gently pushing you out. You awkwardly stayed on the platform, adjusting your clothes as you watched the train leave and disappear into the night. The ache wouldn’t go away no matter how much you tried to ignore it, and you hated yourself for that. Your mind was hazy, but the answer was clear: you wanted him.

Back on the train, the satisfied Sanji plopped himself in the seat next to the other passenger with a loud sigh, unable to get you off his mind. Perhaps he should’ve followed you home after all.

“She’s that good, huh?” the other man asked, interrupting his thoughts.

“Yeah, I told you she’s perfect. I bet you enjoyed the show, jerking off to how cute she sounds. She’s irresistible and so needy. She’ll be begging for more, I’m sure of it.”

The man shrugged. “Well, I guess I’ll see for myself how good she takes my cock tomorrow.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Marimo,” Sanji laughed dangerously, barely suppressing his anger. “I’m not planning on sharing what’s mine.”

゜。+。゜゜。*。゜゜。＋。゜*゜。゜。+。゜゜。*。゜゜。＋

[softwiingz]

i wanna write chikan…

[ss-syche]

I know I've been gone for a while but with happened to #June'sdegeneracyau??

Cannot find it ANYWHERE

[baby-tini]

Could you write a Chikan with Dabi? Like I image he sees a sweet little thing like you on the train and he can't just help himself to you. He moves behind you and starts groping you and before you could move away he wraps his arms around your shoulders and whisper in her ear if you don't comply with me this whole train is going to be set ablazed. You instantly stilled and Dabi called you a good girl and starts licking and biting your neck roughly but not too much from being noticed by others.

I'm so sorry this is late, I hope the person who sent this in sees it, if you did please send me an anon message saying you did, I feel so bad for delaying this TW: Noncon dry humping, noncon kissing and touching, threats of murder. You had gotten off work a while ago but because of a villian attack, you had missed your train. Thankfully it was over quick and no one got too injured but it was still chaotic nonetheless, people screaming, running away and just an overall panic from the public. But, with it all being said and done, the train schedule went back to normal and you were able to get on the next one. This cart though, was a lot more crowded then you expected, people squeezing into seats and people hanging off the same bar. The only option was to go to the back, it was less crowded but still packed. It was quieter at the back though, just people reading or having their earbuds in. After the first three stops there was more seats and less people so you had room to sit and relax, that was until a pregnant woman handling an infant got on, looking absolutely exhausted, so, giving up your seat, you just used one of the handle bars in the back. "If you scream or try and get help, I'll set this whole train on fire," it's an instant reaction that had you tensing up. Letting out a stuttered exhale you glance down to see arms wrapping around your waist, covered by thick black hoodie sleeves. The man leans close to your ear, breathing down your neck as he chuckles breathlessly when you freeze against his chest. He runs his hand up and down your stomach as the other hand sits underneath your breasts. The mans mouth moves closer to your throat, mouthing at the right side as he runs a hand down your thigh and slides it back up grabbing a handful of your ass. There's a whimper that leaves your throat, jerking away from the man. Pulling you back by your hips, he growls in your ear as he nips at your shoulder. "Shhh, be a good girl for me." He leaves a wet trail of kisses on your neck, occasionally, nipping and biting. Sucking hickies into your skin, just under your skin. Crossing his arms over your stomach, he grinds into you, licking your skin as he groans in your ear. Trying to regulate your breathing as best you can, you glance around to distract your mind, catching the glare and disgusted snarl of an older lady, you look away ashamed. Your eyes squeezing shut when you feel the man slip his hand under your shirt, marking another hickey above your collarbone. The kisses start becoming more frantic as he pants in your ear, grinding harder into you as his hands grab at your tits. "Oooh fuck- such a nice little ass...your tits feel so soft too." He leans his head back slightly, still keeping an eye you as he does so. The conductor announces the next stop and you hear the man curse under his breath, his grinding getting faster as his biting gets harder. His breath coming out in quick pants as his grip tightens around you, holding you closer. He moves you further into the back of the train, pinning you against the wall, holding you like a boyfriend would. His hips moving faster against your ass as he groans in your ear, grabbing you by the jaw and kissing you as he covers your eyes with his free hand. Groaning into your mouth, you feel something wet bleed into the back of your pants, wetting the ass of your panties while he places a hand near your face, moving it to face the wall again as he rides out his high and grunts. You bite your lip to stop the sad whimper from escaping as the man backs away, the train doors opening and kisses your cheek before leaving, making sure to give you a pat on your ass and a dark chuckle. 'Thanks for the help pretty girl, see you around."

[arabaka]

tw// noncon/dubcon

i reaaaalllyyyy want to write a chikan fic with reigen

[kabukibun]

– A Devotee’s Wish

⚠ TWs/CWs: chikan, gn! bottom reader, heavy reference to cult/worshiper thoughts, dubcon

Why was this happening? Especially after you’ve had such a good day after getting to meet God. Ah, how you wish He was here to grant your wish right now. You quiver and shake, feet inching forward to get away from the hands groping at your sides, caressing your back and reaching into the hem of your waistline. “S-stop.. please?” you plead, not even knowing who you were begging to. You couldn’t make yourself turn around and stare him in the face. “hm? stop what ? am i doing something Wrong?” You gasp as you immediately recognize the voice speaking to you. Could it really be? You turn quickly, coming face to face with .. “God?” your lips hang open. It really was Him! He smiles warmly at you, looking down at you with a certain fondness. “what’s wrong? you’re shaking?” He tilts his head, showcasing his confusion to your fear. You bite your lip. It would be wrong to ignore His advances, right? Regardless, you gently push him away, readjusting your clothing and muttering a brief apology. Surely He would understand you didn’t wish to continue any further? You yelp as you feel him press against you once more, his gentle touch turning much more aggressive. You felt as if he would rip your clothing off. “stop moving away from me. i’m a God, listen to your God.” His tone suddenly turns cold. You’ve never heard him talk like this. You didn’t want to hear it again. Your heart sunk at the thought of displeasing God. But.. this didn’t feel quite right. Still, you spread your feet apart, giving him more access to touch you as He’d like. “your family has offered you as a tribute for me. you are mine. so i want to touch You.” his hand slips into your underwear, the other groping at your chest and rubbing at your hardening nipples. Despite the circumstances, you couldn’t help thinking about how good it felt to be touched by Him. It was almost embarrassing how fast he brought you to the edge. “Ah, ahhn-! It’s too much. I think I’m gonna -mmf!- Please!! I can’t..!” Tears cloud your vision, you babble meaningless strings of words not even you can understand. You’re so close, you could feel the sensations washing over you, clouding your mind. Your God was so talented with his fingers, truly He is amazing. You couldn’t bear to go on without his touch, you needed him. “you want to cum? is that your Wish? i’ll grant it if you tell me it is.” he eggs you on, slowing his pace until you can only feel a dull thrum of pleasure. You cave in immediately. “Yes, yes, yes! My wish is to cum by your hand! Please, please!” “i’m so happy! i will grant your Wish ♡ such a good little spouse you’ve become.” He pumps his fingers faster, chuckling as you jerk in his hold. With little warning, he pulls your face into a kiss, tongue swirling with yours. Feeling him suck on your tongue overwhelmed your senses, eyes rolling back as you felt the start of your orgasm. You jerk forward once, twice, riding the waves of pleasure until you slumped backwards into his hold. He smiles down at you, cooing at how good you were for him, praising you and telling you how much he loved you. You giggle, mind still hazy, God was so nice, maybe falling in love with him would be too easy.

[bestiesenpai]

yuta chikan

We love a slimy man in this house! Femme reader, everyone 18+ 1.8k words

Content warnings: chikan, noncon, forced orgasm

There was always an uneasy feeling whenever you were around Yuta, the man made your skin prickle with uncomfortable nerves. The smile he sent you, one that was supposed to be friendly and calm, had your stomach tightening up in knots and making you want to throw up at the sight of it. No one else seemed to mind his demeanor, they welcomed it even and questioned how you could possibly feel any anxiety toward Yuta.

Any concern you had for the man was brushed away, pushed aside and looked down upon. He was everyone's friend, a nice, quiet, polite young man that had worked hard to be in the position he was now. Who were you to think any differently of him?

But you were right in your assumptions and this moment was one where, if you could, you would have someone filming your interaction in secret just for proof that Yuta wasn’t all he seemed.

“Sorry (Y/N).” He chuckled in your ear for the hundredth time as the train you were moving on swayed and jostled over a turn. Normally you’d be able to brush it off, but the fact that his hand was quite clearly grabbing your ass every time the train moved made it hard.

Biting your lip, you shrugged him off and focused on the windows in front of you. There wasn’t much you could do in the situation, you’d be on this crowded train for a while and making a scene about what he was doing now would only make it awkward for everyone.

“Excuse me.” Someone spoke behind you and Yuta shuffled ever closer to you, pushing the front of your body against the window as he moved out of the way of whoever needed to get past.

“Let go of me.” You hissed, a hand shooting down to claw at the arm he snuck around your hips.

“Just a moment.” He replied in a voice that was far too easy going, like you were his lover waiting for him to hang up the phone and not someone attempting to break his arm to free yourself from his grasp.

“Yuta!” You struggled to keep your surprised gasp just that and not a full blown shriek as Yuta’s hand forced its way down the front of your bottoms. It was like the barrier of fabric wasn’t even there, his fingers deft and skillful enough to easily worm right past and into your panties.

“Watch out, another turn is coming.” He mumbled offhandedly, leaning into you a bit heavier than before as the train moved. Using the momentum, he pushed two fingers between your slit and pressed onto your clit.

There were hundreds of thoughts running through your head. Could someone see? What was Yuta’s next move? How far was he willing to go with this sick perversion? Was there something you could do, a cursed technique you could wield that would prevent this from going any further?

“Such a warm little cunt.” No, no there wasn’t. Whatever strength you had, Yuta could outmatch it. Any moves you were planning to make, Yuta already accounted for and was five steps ahead. The way he’d angled his body, the placement of his arms around you, all the way down to the stance he was in were all perfectly calculated.

“Stop.” Screwing your eyes shut, you let your head hang down as far as it could go. If you opened your eyes you’d be confronted with the very thing you were trying to block out. Squeezing your legs together did nothing, and in fact spurred Yuta on to shove one of his thighs between them.

“Don’t get shy, (Y/N), no one else is watching.” Yuta’s breath fanned out against the back of your neck and you could just feel the ghost of the smirk on his face.

“Y-yuta…” Shuffling awkwardly on your feet, you were forced to rest your weight on him as the train jostled on the tracks. A sick curl of vomit burned the back of your throat as he let out a breathy sigh feeling your body mold against his. Maybe if you vomited on the train he’d stop.

A pinch to your clit had you squealing and jumping in Yuta’s hold, the sound just barely dashed away with a fake and obnoxious cough into the crook of your elbow. It felt like all the eyes on the train were on you with the way your body burned with embarrassment and seemed to sag down even further.

“Just give me what I want and it’ll all be over, (Y/N).” Yuta’s lips were pressed right against the shell of your ear and his voice was raspy and rough.

“W-what-” Your own voice didn’t sound any better, high pitched and strung out and like your vocal cords could burst at any moment.

“Cum for me.”

“What?” Luckily there was a sharp jostle on the train tracks as the cars pulled into a station or else everyone would have heard the shrill sound you let out.

“Be a good girl and cum on my fingers. I’ve always wanted to touch you like this, you know? Ever since we met I’ve dreamed about what it would be like to have your pretty cunt wrapped around my fingers.” Another lurch in the train as it started to move caused another lurch in your stomach and you had to bite your lip hard to stop yourself from genuinely throwing up.

What Yuta said absolutely sickened you. All the time you spent uncomfortable in his presence, wary of being alone with him and always staying just a hair out of reach - it was all justified. This moment, his words and actions, they all proved what you knew to be true.

Surely it wasn’t a coincidence that he found you alone on the train, exhausted from a mission and eager to just collapse as soon as you got home. You always caught him lingering in the corner of your eye and it wouldn’t be a stretch to assume he’d been following you.

“(Y/N), are you going to be good for me?” He questioned, but Yuta didn’t really want an answer. “Even if you say no, we both know I’ll get what I want.” He let out a chuckle under his breath, beginning to swirl his fingers around your clit.

Your breathing started to come out a little heavier as his actions made you squirm in his hold. Gripping his arm, you steadied yourself against the train window, resting your forehead on the cool glass to help dissipate the sweat forming on your brow.

“Fucking perfect, I knew it.” Nodding to himself, Yuta stretched his hand further down and started to push one finger inside you. Nudging his thigh further between your legs, there was no escaping as he worked his finger down to the knuckle.

Pressing a kiss behind your ear, Yuta slowly thrust his finger in and out, adding another when he felt your cunt stretch to accommodate him. His breathing was loud in your ear, the only thing louder than the ringing in your head as you tried to block out what was happening. Watching building after building pass you by only helped so much.

The happenings around you meant nothing. The constant noise and shuffling of bodies, the announcement of the next stop, babies crying and school girls giggling - it was like you were in a completely different world than they were.

Withdrawing his fingers, Yuta rubbed your slick along his digits. Mortification came over you, your face utterly scandalized at the realization that you’d gotten wet from his touch. Returning his fingers to your clit, Yuta was ecstatic.

“See, I knew you’d like it.”

“I-I don’t.” With a heavy tongue, you forced the words to come out. Your entire body was painfully stiff, every muscle pulled taut and ready to spring into action. Action that you’d never be allowed.

“Don’t lie.” Yuta tsked and you could feel the corner of his mouth uptick. “You work too hard, (Y/N), let me take care of you. I bet no one’s made you feel this good.” Even if what he said was true, you would still deny it. Even if you were enjoying it, you’d deny it. Even if you wanted it, a crowded train during rush hour was not the place to do these kinds of things.

Running circles over your clit, Yuta rested his chin on your shoulder as if he was casually watching the world go by with you. Your squirming, bucking hips didn’t faze him, in fact Yuta welcomed the movements and rubbed his hips against your ass.

“Shit, Yuta-” To your horror, pleasure was shooting up your spine and making your knees grow weak. Pressing down with calloused fingers, every ridge and bump had your breath coming out more and more uneven.

A low hum came from his chest and you could see in the reflection of the glass that Yuta was smiling ear to ear. His hold on you got tighter, squeezing your bones and organs against him. He could feel the curves and dips of your body clear as day, as if you were in an actual loving embrace.

“Seems like you’re going to be a good girl after all.” Giving you a kiss on the cheek, Yuta flicked his wrist expertly, adding in a third finger to rub vigorously at your clit. Caught between gasping and moaning, you hung your head and slapped a hand over your mouth.

Yuta cooed in your ear as tears began to form at your lashes and drip down your face. There wasn’t anything you could do besides lean onto him as you came, a crying moan forcing its way out of you. Cumming on Yuta’s fingers was embarrassing enough but peeking an eye open and seeing him lick them clean of your glistening slick made it all the more humiliating.

“L-let me go now.” Sniffling pitifully, you hurriedly wiped your eyes. As you took staggering deep breaths and forced yourself to come back to the world around you, you were well aware of the amount of sweat on your skin and making your clothes stick to you.

“Your stop is the last one on the tracks, right?” Yuta asked and his fingers were already crawling across your hip again.

“Why-” You were cut off by Yuta shoving his hands down your bottoms again, cupping your sex fully in his hand.

“I don’t think I’m done with you yet, (Y/N).” As Yuta spoke, the announcement overhead rang. There would be a delay getting to your station, something had fallen onto the tracks and caused a traffic jam of trains. Putting your head against the glass again, you briefly wondered if you could break it with your head if you tried hard enough. “Now, where were we?"

[tomurasprincess]

Kinktober Day 10: Chikan (His Biggest Fan)

Day 10: Chikan Title: His Biggest Fan Pairing: Hawks x Reader Word Count: 1.6k Warnings: Dubcon, chikan, coercion, manipulation, public sex, exhibitionism, yandere Note: A bit of a shorter one tonight because I have a few coming up that are going to be much longer. Also, it is technically still October 10th here, so it is not late (let me just mentally have this reasoning, please.)

“You’re - you’re Hawks, oh my god,” you can’t help the words that slip from your mouth when you see the number two hero stand beside you on the busy subway. He’s been your favorite since the first time he made the hero scene, and you can’t believe he’s right beside you.

“Yes I am,” he gives you a smile that could win anyone over before moving to stand even closer to you. “Are you a fan of mine, little bird?”

The endearment causes your heart to race in excitement even though you know he’s probably this friendly to everyone. “Yes, I’ve been following your hero work for a while now, and I’m a huge fan!” 

You pause for a second before hastily adding, “that might make me sound like a stalker, I know, but I promise I don’t mean it like that.”

He reaches out to trail a finger down your bare arm, causing goosebumps to raise as you shiver. “Maybe I wouldn’t mind,” he chuckles at you. “You’re a cutie.” He steps towards you, putting one hand up above your head to clutch at the bar. He towers over your small form, close enough that you can smell the cologne he uses. Your heart is beating out of your chest in disbelief of what is happening. This has been a deep, dark fantasy of yours, one that you would never admit to anyone. And now it seems to be happening. 

His finger trails lower, tracing a pattern on the front of your shirt, dangerously close to your breasts. “And you’re even wearing my merchandise. You must be such a good fan.” 

You feel your cheeks go hot, embarrassment causing you to be unable to meet his eyes. You forgot that you were wearing one of your many Hawks fan shirts. Although you feel no shame when wearing it out, it feels different somehow when the man himself is the one who sees you in it.

He takes a finger under your chin and raises it to meet his eyes. “Since you’re such a good fan, maybe you could do me a favor.”

“I don’t know how someone like me could help someone as great as you, but I’ll do what I can!” Your thoughts instantly move to grand notions like helping him with a case or other fanciful notions that you know can’t be the truth but you can’t help wanting anyway.

But you were certainly not expecting him to grip your hips and pull you flush against him, grinding his hardening erection into your thigh. He grabs your hand and moves it downward, closing your hand around the bulge. “I think you can help me with this, little bird. Don’t you?”

“I - I don’t know,” you trail off a bit, unsure how to truly respond.

“So you won’t help me then? That’s fine, I know it’s probably too much for anything but a true fan to do.”

“But I’m a true fan,” you protest instantly, “I promise I am!”

“So you’ll help me after all,” he turns you around and pushes you against the bar as he humps against the curve of your ass. You hear the rustling of his clothes, and feel your skirt being lifted up. Everything is happening too fast for you and your head is spinning from trying to process everything.

“Wait, I’m not so sure about this,” you try to reason with him, “we’re in public, what if someone sees?”

You feel his chest rumble with a laugh. “You really are a good fan, worried about my reputation.” You see his wings spread out a bit, coming to wrap around you and cover you from view. A few people turn to look in your direction, but they smile and glance away, simply assuming that you’re his girlfriend and he’s being protective of you.

“Now no one can see,” you feel his hot, hard cockhead probing at your entrance. “You’ll just have to be very quiet so no one suspects anything, and since you’re such a good girl, I know you can do that for me.” And with that he begins to push inside of you. The sting of him stretching out your mostly dry walls causes tears to form in your eyes, ones that you rapidly blink away so that nobody sees. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans deeply into your ear, burying his face in your neck as he bites down. “You feel so good clamping down on my cock like that.”

You whine a bit as he finally enters you completely, cockhead resting against your cervix as he gives you time to adjust. “You’re a true fan, to help me like this,” he grunts softly as he begins to move, veins and ridges of his cock sliding against your walls in a way that starts out painful but soon feels wonderful.

He reaches around to find your clit, rubbing down on the throbbing bead. You grip the bar you’re facing, biting into the meat of your hand to contain your moan as pleasure zings through you. His short, shallow thrusts inside of you quickly become harder as you grow wet and he’s able to move more freely. “I want you to cum around my cock, little bird,” he whispers into your ear. “Think you can do that for me?”

“Y-yes Hawks,” you whimper a bit as his fingers rub your clit harder, pussy clenching down around him at the stimulation. 

“Mmm, call me Keigo, little bird,” he reaches around to reach under your shirt, pulling your bra up so that he can grip your breasts, tweaking your nipples until they’re rock hard.

You move your hand just a bit higher on the bar so that you can push back to meet his thrusts. “Yes, Keigo, oh fuck it feels so good,” you whisper as quietly as you can. The squelching noises as his cock slams into you leaves you feeling both ashamed and oddly thrilled.

Your hero trusts you enough to help him with a problem. To stay quiet and not let anyone see what he’s doing to you to preserve his reputation. 

You would hate to disappoint him.

You feel your lower stomach tighten as you near your orgasm, and Hawks must sense it too, because he adjusts his angle to hit a sensitive spot inside of you that causes your pussy to pulse around him. 

He manages to stay quiet, letting out only sharp huffs of breath, but you fare much worse than he is. You’re biting so hard into your hand that you can taste blood as you try to contain your noises and gripping the bar hard enough that your hand is turning red.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum,” his blunt nails dig hard into your thighs as he speeds up. “Let me cum inside.”

You feel a sense of unease at that. You’re not on any birth control, so what happens if you get pregnant?

He must sense your hesitation, as he starts to reassure you with gentle touches across your body. “Please, your pussy feels so fucking amazing, little bird,” Keigo grunts into your ear. “You would prove yourself as my biggest fan if you just let me fill you up.”

A sense of excitement builds up in you. His biggest fan? Of course you’re his biggest fan, and you have to prove it to him. You have to let him know how much he means to you.

“Hhnggg, alright,” you groan, “please cum inside of me, Keigo, I want to prove it to you.”

“Such a good girl,” he chuckles at your response and grinds down on your swollen clit, and the pleasure shoots straight to your core. You’re thrown into such an intense orgasm that the bar you’re gripping is the only thing that keeps you standing, your knees wanting to buckle from the sensations rolling through you.

You feel his cock twitch inside of you, pace stuttering as hot cum paints your walls white. There’s so much that it leaks out a bit, dripping down your leg. Finally the stimulation is too much, and he pulls out of you in such an abrupt movement that you whine at the feeling of being so empty. 

He readjusts himself into his pants, pushing your panties back into place to prevent any more cum from leaking out. You pull away from the bar a bit, only to stumble and almost collapse as your legs buckle. Keigo catches you easily, smiling at your blissed out look. “Here’s what we’re going to do next. Are you listening?”

“Yes, of course,” you nod your head several times.

“We’re going to get off at the next stop, and you’re coming with me. Do you understand?”

“What do you mean,” you answer hesitantly, confusion overtaking your features. The idea of going home with him is an absolute dream, but you have so many things to do. “I’m on my lunch break, so - “

“You heard me. You’re coming home with me.”

“But what about work, I really have to head - “

“Little bird, you disappoint me,” he sighs dramatically, shaking his head at you in disbelief. “I thought you were my biggest fan, but apparently work is more important.”

“No!” Your voice comes out slightly higher pitched than you intended as panic almost overtakes you. This is your chance and you’re about to blow it over something as trivial as work. “You’re right. Work isn’t important, not when it comes to you.”

His smile instantly returns, looking like the sun coming back out from the clouds. “I’m so glad.” He wraps an arm tightly around you as he leads you to the opening door. “I can’t wait to finally get you home, my little bird.”

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Kinktober: @thewheezingwyvern, @vixen-scribbles, @katsukisprincess, @hisoknen, @trafalgar-temptress, @leeswritingworld, @bakugotrashpanda​, @kittycatkrissa​, @reinawritesbnha​, @yanderart​, @dabilove27​, @fae-father​, @anxietyplusultra​, @flutterfalla​, @angmarwitch​, @nereida19​, @babayaga67​, @fromsunnywithlove​, @dabis-kitten​, @bakugos-cumsock​, @yumeneji​, @the-grimm-writer​, @iwaizumi-chan​, @slashersheart​, @cissiewrites​, @bunnyywritings​, @bakarinnie​, @lucygucy123​, @angie-1306​, @emplosion22​, @lalalemon101​, @videogameboiwhowins​, @armoredashley​, @f4nficbaby​, @sky-robin​, @baroque-baby​, @bbyspiiice​, @celeroki​, @jubilee40​, @tenkoshimmy​, @khemz1312​,  @thirsthourdemon​

[bakatenshii]

wait write sum more for the incel sakusa 👁👁... perhaps him dry humping his hand on the train ride to school cause your skirt a lil too short or him starting to have wet dreams for you..or you posting a bikini pic and him printing it out-

Sakusa Kiyōmi x Reader (Haikyuu!!)

word count: 700

TW: 18+, dubcon, chikan

The human body is riddled in bacteria, from each follicle of the hair to each flake of dry skin, sweat is just a wet slide for them to travel. A crowded train is the pinnacle of bacteria overgrowth; sticky skin pressed into sticky bodies leaning on sticky walls of sweat. Sakusa is one huff of air away from nausea.

He breathes in ninety second intervals; exhaling at the ping of the station stop, inhaling in the passengers filing into the too crowded carriage until he fills his lungs with the stench of sweat on skin. And then he holds it.

Until he doesn’t. He gasps at the sight of the too-exposed bare flesh presented in front of him, skin stopping only to be covered by black fabric flowing in the aircon. He doesn’t know how you can stomach the idea of exposing so much vulnerable skin to the grime-ridden entourage of a train at rush hour, but whores are dumb.

Sakusa’s not dumb, he knows what you want. The only reason for a perfectly cute girl like you to be so scantily-clad on a crowded carriage is because you want attention. He can give you the attention.

The train skirts to a stop at the next station, and he watches as the top of heads bob in a wave of inertia, throwing your body into his. You should be thankful it’s him and not some disgusting sweaty businessman. You should consider yourself lucky.

You don’t seem fazed when he runs his fingers up your thighs, grazing your unguarded skin with the pads of his fingertips and stopping just under the flair of your skirt. Typical reaction; you’re probably used to this.

So he trails a lil higher, feels the elastic of the cotton digging into your hips and slips a deft finger under. The elastic stretches and stretches, giving way as he pulls it away from your body, and snaps back with a harsh slap.

The train skirts, you shudder; he can feel the vibrations from the soles of his feet through to your skin.

His palms find the front of your thighs, runs the calloused skin against your silky smooth, and pulls you back into him by your hip bones— he almost cums on contact.

His tenting erection slots perfectly between the mounds of your ass, cradled softly in your thighs, and he doesn’t even need to thrust himself; the train lurches to a stop, throws your body into his chest until it envelopes your frame, and he’s sure you can hear his breathing in your ear.

You’re so still, so obedient; of course you are, he’s giving you exactly what you want. Under the guise of the crowd shifting and shoving into the busy carriage, he humps away into the soaked divot of your cunny, rhythmic paps hidden under the static of bustling passengers and soft radio.

His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your hips, revels in the way you’re panting now, shamelessly pushing back and meeting every shallow thrust. But you surprise him with dainty fingers reaching behind your back to cup his aching cock wetting through the fabric of his trousers, and pick at the zipper.

Two seconds— Sakusa flinches, whole body freezing in a wave of nausea at the thought of the bare skin of his cock coated by the bacteria swimming in the suffocating air, and pins your hand behind your back.

“Don’t be greedy.”

It’s all he rasps out in a low voice before hooking a hand into the crook of your thighs and spreading them to accommodate the full length of his cock pressing up against your needy cunt. This is all he allows you, this is all you’re worth.

Whores like you don’t deserve to feel his cock stretching out your insides; you can go home and play with your pretty pussy all you want, call out for his cock filling you up like you wish he would, but right now, all you get is the feel of his clothed cock grinding friction into your sopping cunt.

He inhales the scent of sweat and musk and you, humping erratically into your squirming body caged between his arms until he gasps as his whole body stills. He’s sure you can feel the wetness pooling against your cunny, he thinks he can see tears pooling at the corners of your eyes as he slips his body back from yours.

The train skirts, he lets out a breath, and slides out the opening doors.

[palbabor-writes]

AYO Shigaraki with a small shy kawaii gamer gf and gets easily flustered. You can do regular headcanons as well as nsfw headcanons.

- 👁👄👁

Two little gamer beans finding each other, cuteeeeee 🎮

SFW:

You met the player: xPhantomMisrulex on a whim

He’d been on the top player boards for months, always lingering at that number 1 spot

You only played for the XP, the grind that would let your player buy the best weapons, skins and exclusive DLC

So, it came as a complete shock when they sent you an invite

You’d started out as a five player team, but one by one, each of the members were taken out

Finally, it was just the two of you, slowly ploughing your way to the end of the mission

You were low on ammo, but xPhantomMisrulex did a great job of flinging themselves in front of you, shielding you from the brunt of the NPC attacks

In the end, the two of you cleared the field & all the spoils were yours for the taking

After that, xPhantomMisrulex had asked you to join their next raid and then the next one, and the one after that

You learned their name a few weeks later

Tomura.

It’s a strange name, one you’ve never heard before. But, he seemed nice. A little gruff perhaps, but you always liked when he enabled the voice feature, his raspy tones vibrating around your ears

You asked to meet him. Just a quick thing. Maybe get some tea or a coffee? He said maybe.

Then, he messaged you a few hours later. 10 am, the coffee shop by the mall

You’d tried on outfit after outfit, wanting to look just right. Finally, you settled and applied a little bit of lipstick, hoping you wouldn’t chew it all off before you ran into him

He’s different. He keeps his dark hood up the entire time, cloaking himself from your gaze

You’re nervous, but he seems to like your timidity, pressing close, his warmth lingering, making you shiver

You stammer out a suggestion of where to go next and he nods immediately, his smile making his white teeth gleam under the fluorescent lights

He keeps eying you, his red gaze lingering, tracing over your curves

Well, you begin, time for me to-

He reaches for you, a strange four fingered grasp wrapping around your wrist, tugging you back

Just a few more minutes, he says, there’s something I want to show you

Naughty, naughty under the cut 🤭

warnings: mild non-con, chikan

NSFW 

TW: mild non-con, chikan

He insists that he sees you home

He buys your train ticket and keeps close to you, shielding you from the crowd

Tomura maneuvers you to the side, pressing you close to the doors

The train rumbles to life, hurtling the carriage into the darkness of the tunnel

Tomura leans over you, his lean body molding against yours

At first, you bristle at his closeness. You’d just met him, what does he think he’s...oh-

Tomura wraps one arm around you, and his head ducks to your shoulder

You look so cute, he says, his voice low. I didn’t think you’d be so sweet, so accommodating in real life. But you’re always like that in the game. You go out of your way to play with me. So, so sweet, so nice.

You gulp and you can’t help the shiver that runs up your spine

The train shudders around a bend and you fall backwards, into Tomura

Your ass falls into the crevice of his hips and you moan when you feel the hardness, the wanting, that is waiting for you

Shhh, he croons, one arm bracing against your stomach, dragging you back to him

The train passes through another tunnel and the carriage darkens again. Tomura tilts your neck towards him, letting his rough, wet tongue lap across your neck

Mmm, he murmurs, against your ear, you taste good (Y/N). You don’t mind if I keep going, do you? Let me see how much you want to play with me.

You try to worm your way from him, but his hold is too strong, too insistent. His fingers lift up your shirt and unfasten the front of your jeans. In seconds, he’s tapping his digits across your panties, groaning when he finds you wet, your unbidden arousal dripping against his touch

Oh, fuck, he whispers, his teeth snagging on your earlobe

He uses two digits to gather your essence and he lifts the silken webs from your pants, wrapping his arm around you neck as he pulls the sopping fingers to his lips

He smacks eagerly, his hips beginning to rut into the cleft of your ass.

The train hurtles back into the daylight and he lets his fingers go with a wet pop, his lips returning to your neck, biting and nipping.

You can’t help the whine that seeps from your lips and you unconsciously grind back against him, earning a growl from Tomura

Such a good little player, he whispers, lowering his hand back to your unclasped jeans, searching for your budding clit

Why can’t I just do like, small things? I’m so freaking chatty. Like, lemme give you a backstory and a name and a this and a that. ANYWAY. Thanks for the ask! ♡♡♡

[fuwushiguro]

All The Ways Life Can Test You

Day Fourteen: Chikan | 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Kento Nanami x f!Reader Genre: Smut Notes: Nanami would NEVER… but he can’t help himself 😓 Warnings: 18+, noncon, chikan, exhibitionism??, manipulation, pussy job, "just the tip", vaginal penetration, praise, creampie. Words: 1.5k

Nanami can’t stand public transport, particularly the subway. Although there are benefits, like you, for example. Your type. What is your type? Pretty. Young. A sweet face and a face filled with wanderlust. You’re hoping for better. Dreaming of better. You don’t like the subway either, do you? No. He can tell. How? All of the stress your carrying, of course. But you’re unaware that it’s more than that. Much more than that.

How long have you had that cursed spirit latched around your waist and lower back?

Part of him wants to leave you to deal with the pesky curse for the rest of your life. The way you’re bending, arching, holding your lower back. You’re doing anything to alleviate the pressure you’re feeling. Aren’t you? Poor, poor doll. He wonders where you picked up a nasty thing like that. You look like a good girl. He imagines you to be the type to be in higher education. University. Whether it be of your own accord or the insistence of your parents. But you’d never decline their wishes, would you? Nanami can see it. He can see it in the glimmer of your sticky, sweet, lip gloss. You’re a good girl.

He feels sorry for you. You’re desperate to sit down, but there isn’t a single seat free in the carriage you’re riding. Nanami sits, of course, with a news paper in his hands. A leg is crossed over one knee, and he peers over the top of the black and white printed paper like a letch. Should he help you? Will he help you? He’s a good man, and you’re a good girl. Again, he is a good man. He should help you. He has the power to dispel such a pathetic, weak levelled curse. Your back pain and abdominal cramps will be a thing of the past. And you’ll be so grateful to him, won’t you?

He recalls the last time he helped someone like this. He had no intention to do so, she wasn’t his type. But he did, anyway. And although it wasn’t for selfish desires – like this would be – it gave him a sense of self, a sense of pride, when the woman at the bakery was so thankful to him. He realised that thanks were enough, for some people. But it wouldn’t be enough from you. Would you give him a little extra thanks? Or would he have to take it by force?

Nanami stands to his feet. Instantaneously, his seat is stolen. He doesn’t mind. It isn’t much further to his stop.

He hopes the same is true for you.

You’re alarmed when you feel the taps of two strong fingers on your shoulder. You pause the alt-rock music playing on your phone, and turn your head upwards to see the assailant. He’s handsome, you think, albeit a little out of your age range. He looks like he could be a professor at your university. He’d teach something like English, you suspect. You wince in pain as you say hello. Tilting your neck from side to side and holding your lower back once again. It never works, but you hope it will trick your body and mind into thinking it’s helping.

“You look like you’re in pain.” Nanami tells you. You nod, agreeing with him. You are. You’ve been dealing with this pain for around three months now. The doctors gave you pain killers but they did no good. They suggest different stretches you can try, and still, it’s all useless. You fear you’ll be subjected to this pain for the rest of your days. “May I try something? Turn around.”

You aren’t normally one to do as a stranger tells you. But at this point, you’re willing to try anything. You slowly turn around. An elderly woman stares on at you, it’s a look of odd disapproval. She doesn’t know you. And you don’t know her. All you’re doing is turning around. What is her problem?

You don’t catch what the man actually does. But within seconds, he’s asking if you feel better. You wriggle and wrench your body in different ways. Holy fuck. You do. You actually do feel better! You aren’t sure what the hell he did, but you’ve never been so grateful in your life. You attempt to turn and face him, to thank him. But his hands grip into your waist; finger tips bruising into your skin brutally. He tells you that thanks won’t be necessary. He knows what he wants.

You’re frozen. Humiliated. The carriage is rammed and it’s impossible for anyone to clock what’s going on unless you scream, unless you beg and plead for help. You doubt anyone is going to look down to your hips and see that you’re being assaulted, directly in the eye of the public.

He wraps an arm around your torso; a skilful move, he’s holding you in place while he uses his free hand to free his cock from his smart, beige work pants. You weep when you feel his thick cock glide over your clothed folds. It’s demeaning. The way he nudges your lips open slightly each time he ruts his cock against you. He grins when he feels your wetness seep through your panties.

“This is much better than a thank you.”

Nanami slides your cotton panties to the side, eyes rolling back as he coats his member in your dripping slick. His hands are back to anchoring your waist, keeping you securely in place while uses you to give himself a pussy job. How could your body betray you like this? How disgusting could your anatomy be to self-lubricate at a time like this? Your eyes cross when his tip pokes at your throbbing clit. A moan gets stuck in your throat. When the blur leaves your vision – you notice she’s still staring at you. When your eyes find hers, the old woman quickly looks away. She knew this was going to happen. They must have the same commute. He must do this to other girls all of the time.

You feel your legs shake and your throat close. You’re trembling all over. It’s hard, but you’re forbidding yourself to cum. Fuck. You could have prevented this. Why did you have to wear a fucking skirt? Why didn’t you just get an uber across town? You yelp a little, but not loudly enough to draw attention, when he forces your body plush against his.

“I want to be in you… Just the tip, I promise… You don’t mind, do you?” he questions.

But before you can object, he’s already prodding the tip around your entrance. You shake your head, you cry. But you don’t speak – you can’t. The tip slides in, and your eyes roll over white. He stays like that while he masturbates himself. Does he really just want to empty his load inside of you? But of course, he soon gets tired of that. And it turns out, he’s a liar, as most men are. It’s not just the tip. It never is.

His hips rut, slow lazy strokes kiss your cervix. He’s grunting quietly in your ear. ‘You’re so good’ he tells you, ‘such a tight cunt’ is another. He’s moaning, still quiet enough to not draw attention. Although you are still crying and whimpering, you don’t make anything that could be considered close to a sound. But he’s getting faster, and faster, and you know he’s about to spill himself inside of you. At least you’re on the pill.

“You must be so grateful to me,” he huffs, “letting me use your pussy like this. I love generous women like you.”

And you are, letting him. Your knees buckle as you cum pathetically around him. He’s just as appreciative as you are that you aren’t causing a scene or making a boisterous amount of noise. It’s simple, silent. He floods your insides soon after. It must have been a while for him, because it really is a flood. You don’t think you’ve ever been this stuffed full of cum, ever.

He quickly pulls out, tucking himself back into his trousers. He discretely grabs the pillowy flesh of your ass cheeks and pulls them apart. Your pussy lips spread open, too. You’re mortified as his semen barrels down the inside of your thighs. There’s nothing in your backpack that you can use to clean it up. It’s just your stupid books for class and your laptop. Nanami is enamoured by the way his pearly white milk dribbles down your legs. He delights at your shuffles and squirming in discomfort. It’s only forcing more of him out of you.

He does you a kindness and returns your panties back to their rightful place. No more of his cum can drool out of you, but now your cotton underwear is webbed and sticky with the blonde man’s children. The train comes to a stop, and Nanami shuffles out away from you. Before he departs, he looks over his shoulder at you.

“If you ever find yourself in pain, again, stop by Jujutsu Tech.”

© 2021 fuwushiguro

adding tags in a reblog 🖤 tag list form in navi if you're interested!

[planetmegumi]

% suna rintarō x f!reader

% warnings: noncon/dubcon, chikan, pussyjob, mild degrad

% wc 1k

you hated this. not being caught during the rush hour on the train, but the man stood behind you, too close for your liking. his broad chest ghosted against your back and his fingers trailed down to play with the hem of your skirt, “what a cute little thing, you always dress like this?” he muttered in your ear, voice low. meek hands reached back to stop him but he grabbed your wrist with ease and pinned them to the small of your back; you were too scared to turn around or to make a scene. he switched his attention to your chest, large hands reaching up and engulfing your breasts, squeezing them roughly. he reached under your shirt and bra to touch your bare breast, pinching your nipples. hard. you couldn’t help the small squeal that escaped your mouth and your hips jutting out to push him away on instinct. surely someone was bound to see but the humiliation of being caught was far greater than the discomfort of him groping you, experienced fingers applying perfect amounts of pressure, making you wetter by the second.

“p-please get off me” you argued but your voice was shaky and unconvincing, you didn’t even believe yourself. he chuckled deeply in response, not taking you seriously.

his rough hands found ur hips and pulled your ass close to his crotch, grinding slightly into you as if he was testing the waters. your heart was pounding at the thought of what the stranger was going to do to you, what you deep down hoped he was going to do to you. he flipped your skirt up, resting the fabric on your lower back, if it wasn’t for his larger build covering you anyone could see you half naked and vulnerable.

he pushed your panties down so they rested under the curve of your ass. his cock hit your ass, hard and hot and you realised just how serious he was about using you in public. sensing your panic, he smoothed his palm over the small of your back. “relax’’ came his voice from behind you, low and whispered in your ear, ‘‘i won’t put it in.’’

he slid his hard cock in between your lips and slowly began to move, collecting your slick with each stroke. ‘‘fuck just let me use you like this’’ he rasped. the tip of his cock bumped into ur clit, the slight pressure sending jolts of pleasure through your body. the leaking tip smeared precum with every stroke, coating your pussy. there was enough wetness between the two of you for his cock to slip in at any moment if he wasn’t careful enough.

you didn’t want to like it but the way his cock kept catching on ur clit had your knees buckling and mind going blank. this did not go unnoticed by suna, he pushed forward with more pressure this time. you squeezed your eyes shut and muffled a moan that threatened to slip out. “are you enjoying this? hah what a dirty little slut, getting off to being used by a stranger. this isn’t even about your pleasure, i’m only using you to get off and you’re still moaning?” he scoffed.

he gave a testing thrust prodding at your hole and you let out a gasp “a-ahh! don’t!” “dirty little girl, you’d probably let anyone put it in” “t-that’s not true!’ “yeah? even now you’re pushing back onto me and clenching against me. dirty girl, i might have to come find you again”

his pace sped up at that and it became harder to hold back your moans, you were bound to get caught if it weren’t for ur hand covering your mouth.

“fuckk baby i’m close” he sped up his thrusts, each one rougher than before. “you wanna cum too? want me to help you out?” you nodded quickly, you were so so close, just needing a little more to help tip you over the edge. “beg for it little slut” “please! please help me cum, touch my clit, please!” desperation clear in your quietened whines, ignoring the humiliation of begging him for more, mind focused on coming undone over his cock only.

his skilled fingers found your clit and he rubbed quick circles into it. you knew you wouldn’t last much longer, the intensity of the pressure his tip and fingers put on your clit mixed with the stimulation from his fingers on your nipples was too much. “rintarō” he muttered in your ear. “that’s my name, say it slut” “mmph r-rintarō! ‘m close pleasepleaseplease rin!” you whimpered. your orgasm hit hard as you pushed back into him arching your back from the sensation, forcing the tip of his cock into ur clit, setting him over the edge too. with a low grunt in your ear he came all over your pussy, smearing his cum on your inner thighs, most of it dripping into your panties that he was now tugging back up, snapping the waistband into your skin as he let go. his cum was sticky and soiling your panties but you didn’t have the energy to care, too wrecked from your orgasm.

the intercom played overhead announcing the stop as he pulled away from you for the first time during the ride “see you around y/n” he said before he got off the train, leaving you dazed from the events that just happened.

© planetmegumi 2021; please don’t plagiarise, repost or modify in any way!

[necros-writing-stuff]

I never interact with Avery, because he bores me. But umm... Maybe you could do some Avery Chikan? Let's pretend there's a train to another town and it happens in that kind of setting.

(- anon 🚩 I have... Specific needs.)

I gotchu. I love chikan so much.

NSFW below (non-con, fem reader, male avery)

Avery can't get away with doing too much back at home. Not if he wants to ensure his reputation stays clean. But out in this far-away city, he is an unknown man.

One who, right now, finds himself with a lovely opportunity. A pretty little thing pressed up against him, the compartment packed with business people on their way back to work or their hotels. Yes, Avery can drive, but this is something he's wanted to try for a while. Something he had spent a lot longer than he's willing to admit watching on porn sites in his office on late nights.

The train jolts as the track curves, the young girl's ass pressing against his pelvis before she jumps and gives an apologetic look to him over her shoulder. Poor thing has no idea whats about to happen. Looking around to ensure everyone is busy conversing or looking at their phones, Avery makes his first move.

Today had been tiring. Your friend had needed help moving house, you had to go to a bar to pick up your ID that you had dropped, your shoes had gained a hole so they needed replacing, and now you have to go all of the way home and make a big dinner for your family coning over. So much to do, so little time. Wearing a skirt hadn't been a good idea for lifting your friend's couch, you're sure.

And as a hand trails up between your thighs and, a finger rubbing back and forth along your clothed slit, you're certain that you should have worn pants. As you go to turn and glare at the man behind you, he puts an arm around your waist and pulls you close.

"Best not make any noise, girl," he whispers, "or I'll have to use this."

A tiny little jab is felt on your tummy, your eyes flicking down and seeing a knife in his hand. Your blood runs cold, especially as he starts guiding you to face the doors and and presses you up against them. No one can see you where you are. All they can see is the back of him. Now that you can't be seen, the knife comes up to your throat, pressing against the side as you observe the man's reflection in the glass. He's older, handsome but in this moment you don't care. You're just trying to weigh whether or not his knife threat is empty or not. The crazed look in his eyes says yes.

Your panties are pushed to the side as his fingers continue to explore, pushing inside of you and making you whimper. It feels good. The way his fingers stroke up against your walls, how they push up against that little spot that has your knees going weak. Using on of your hands, you cover your mouth and try to stay quiet.

"Good girl, so tight on my fingers," he coos, the praise shamefully making your cunt pulse in need. The next stop is so far away, you can't even wait for the train to stop so you can press for the doors to open and run.

When his fingers pumping in your pussy starts feeling incredibly slick, Avery pulls his digits out slowly. You don't need that much preparation, just enough to make it easy to slide in. Enough that you won't scream from pain. And hopefully you don't scream in pleasure.

He had purposely not worn underwear, pulling his hard cock out as soon as his fly is down. This is just as exciting as he thought it would be, the reflection in the glass doors telling him that no-one is looking at him and his little toy. Not even as he lifts the back of her skirt, pulls her panties far to the side, and slowly slides his dick into her sopping heat.

"P-please, sir," you whimper, standing on your tiptoes to try and ease the sensation of being full. He's so big, stretching you out in a way that still burns a little even with the preparation. It's stupid to think that a maniac that has gone this far will listen to your begging, but it's always worth a try. Even as you feel the knife press into your skin as you gulp.

The older man shushes you, gentle rocking his hips back and forth to get some stimulation. His jaw flexes, whether in annoyance at your speaking or from the effort to not grunt out, you can't tell. But he keeps going anyways, pushing in and pulling out in time with the sways of the train cart to ensure that no one gets suspicious of his movement.

Reluctantly, you hold onto his arm when it circles around your waist. You need to it stay upright, every weak point in your poor battered cunt being hit with every thrust and weakening your knees. Especially when the train takes a sudden turn, and your pushed up against the door with the man going as deep as he can before righting himself.

Avery doesn't even care is he's caught at this point. The location, the risk, the fantasy coming true is enough that such little stimulation is getting him off like nothing else. You smell rather pleasant, too. It's a cheaper scent, but it is one of the better ones. If you were to be his little trophy, to bring to events, he'd buy you the expensive alternative to whatever you've put on.

His grip on the knife tightens, images of you bound and ready to take him in his bed, being choked in the back seat of his car, begging him to cum while you hump his thigh - any other way he could use you flitting through his head. It's enough that his balls get tighter, a stuttered breath falling from his lips as he cums deep inside of your fluttering pussy.

You can't deny the rush you feel (along with a deep disappointment in yourself) knowing this stranger got off on using you like this. On feeling rope after rope of his hot seed paint your inner walls white. He even holds you still against his body for a few seconds after, placing a kiss on the top of your head. Then he pulls himself out, puts you panties back in place, and fixes himself after putting his knife away.

Another awkward five minutes pass before the next station pulls up, and you're eager to get off. Before you can run though, you feel the stranger stuff something into your coat pocket. When you stumble onto the platform, waddling over to the seats to wait for the next train, you cringe at the feeling of your underwear wetting from the sperm drizzling out.

Pulling out whatever he gave you, your jaw drops. Taking a second to count, then again to make sure, you don't know how to feel. £500, and a business card with a name and number on. That's what you're holding. Now to decide what to do with them.

[bestiesenpai]

tw chikan(?) and noncon and slimy Gojo

You can’t tell me Gojo doesn’t take upskirt photos of unsuspecting girls whenever he takes the train.

It’s not often he’s alone on public transport, usually taking the students somewhere or going on a mission with Nanami. But whenever he is alone he always makes sure to catch the eye of any girl and give them a sweet smile, making them blush and get flustered behind the screens of their phones.

He especially loves when it’s rush hour and he can squeeze up against a girl, one hand on the wall of the train behind them as he tries not to completely crush them(how he wishes he could, but there’s still rules to society he must abide by).

Gives them a little smile, a quietly muttered ‘hello there’, his eyes linger on their face a few seconds longer than normal just to make them swoon a little bit. He knows the affects he has on people and of course he’d be a fool not to use it.

He shields them from any jostling of other bodies, maybe helping them shuffle out of the way as people get on and off the train. His hand might dip down to between their shoulders for a minute, securely holding them against him and then letting go and staring out the window.

So of course, once he got your guard down, it’s that much easier to fish his phone from his pocket. You’re not paying attention a whole lot, busy on your phone and comforted by the fact that there’s a stranger here more than willing to help you navigate the packed car.

After a few minutes of pretending to be on his phone, Gojo will put his arm down and his camera will be on, flashing his face from an awkward angle before he flips it over so you don’t see.

He says ‘excuse me’ oh so politely, even takes a few millimeter steps back and pretends to put his phone away. But really, he’s just trying to get the angle right.

It doesn’t even matter if the sound of the camera shutter is going off because you can’t hear it anyway over the noise from the train riding along the tracks. Gojo is staring down at his hand and the phone, looking at the screen capturing the swell of your ass in your panties.

He takes an egregious amount of pictures, some zoomed in to capture the outline of your cunt and others more angled towards your ass and thighs. He wants to comment on how cute your panties are and if you were just hoping, just waiting for some guy to come along and take pictures.

And Gojo knows no one else is looking. It’s not that he’d be concerned if someone was, but it helps to work in secret. Everyone is too busy on their own phones or with their backs turned to him. He can take as many pictures as he wants, and he does.

When it’s your time to leave, he helps you get through the throng of people. If you thank him, he’ll thank you back, telling you to have a nice day with an easy smile and his phone tucked away into his pocket.

He’s got hundreds of photos like that, each from a different girl and a different train and he doesn’t plan on stopping anytime soon.

[fishstyx]

𝐂𝐄𝐎!𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐎 + 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐍

cw. gn!reader, age gap, dubcon, public molestation

kuroo has just about everything someone his age could possibly want or need. retirement plan locked and loaded, real estate on every side of japan. a stacked resumé of overqualification after overqualification, more cufflinks and watches and bejeweled accessories than one could reasonably keep track of.

or so he’d like to have you think.

what he doesn’t have is the time or the leisure to treat a pretty little thing like you to more than a date or two, much less maintain a healthy relationship. he’s a filthy rich bachelor who keeps wondering why his contacts go ghost without realizing that he was the one to ghost them first.

he’s come to love the subway for this very reason, the proximity and easy access it gives him to doe-eyed prey like you. he always goes after the younger ones, finds that college-aged quarry makes the least fuss of them all when he “admires” them from point-blank distance.

it just so happens that you’re his pick of the night, to grope and fondle under the cloak of the rush hour crowd. he paws at the curve of your ass, smirks when you seize up in quiet panic, pupils glued to the corner of your eyes as you glance back as far as you dare. he adores that look on your face, the silent terror that pinches your brows when his fingers threaten to brush against your sex, vows to eat it up all night long.

when you finally catch his eye, his cheshire grin alone is enough to get you scrambling for the next stop. you push through the sea of passengers at the very last second, elbow both children and elderly out of the way as you race the train doors—only to find him waiting outside the subway car. he tugs you by the arm when you freeze at the edge of the platform, speechless as he herds you up the escalator stairs.

“don’t be a stranger, now,” he says, grip on your wrist only tightening. “i can show you a good time, yeah? better than anyone your age, anyway.”