akiism - Tumblr blog

[akiism]

hello i have returned w priest childe food

as ofc the reader is a naive nun, they had no idea what to do with this growing situation between their legs. in fact, reader believes that this was some sort of force was trying to tempt them away from their duties. considering how well they trust childe as he was the one who took them in, they go to him for help. little would they know, reader would end up bent over the podium, taking his massive cock over and over and over again while reciting a prayer of salvation that he deemed necessary for this ritual

yes yes yes, this indeed... it's easy to feed you lies when it comes to sex and intimacy when he's starting with a total blank slate. he doesn't have to go through the process of reversing or overriding what you already know when you don't know anything... he very well could convince you that children are made when two people who love each other hold hands lmfao

cw: afab + gn reader, reader is a nun and childe is the head priest. religious themes/talk, emotional manipulation, reader is Desperate for approval, dubious consent (reader consents but because of the idea of "i need to do this" rather than active sexual desire), abuse of power/authority, no foreplay/childe pushes into you when you're kinda dry

also crossposted to ao3 if you prefer to read content there.

It is not within a nun’s line of duty to indulge.

Your tiny little monastery bedroom is noticeably devoid of any furniture or decorations beyond your bed, desk, dresser, and bedside book compiling all of the church’s values and teachings in their service to the Tsaritsa. You get by with only what you must; you don’t waste your money on frivolous, unnecessary items to enhance your appearance or show off any sort of social standing. You sustain yourself with simple, basic foods like potato soup and bread; any food item more fanciful would be better either gifted to the homeless or to the Tsaritsa Herself as an offering. 

If you have the money to throw at purchases of expensive clothing, fine dining, or fancy interior decorations, then you have the money to donate to the church or otherwise put to better use than downright wasting it on yourself. 

Just as it is not their duty to indulge in the more tangible pleasures of mankind, a nun needn’t concern themselves with relationships outside of that of the one between them and the Tsaritsa. Needless to say, romantic and sexual relationships are explicitly forbidden— such depraved encounters only serve as distractions from your one true duty: your service to the Tsaritsa. 

Save for the Archon Herself, no figure has been more vital to the development and enhancement of your faith in the Tsaritsa and Her kindness, loyalty to the Greater Cathedral of Snezhnaya as a gesture of gratitude for all the kindness it has blessed you with, and insistence on always being the best representation of Her you can be than the monastery’s head priest Tartaglia. 

It’s hard to remember anything of note from your life prior to joining the Church— Tartaglia took you in about two years ago out of the goodness of his own heart as a member of the clergy; he mentioned that he is but a vessel for the Tsaritsa’s divine kindness and that it is his duty as a direct representative of her to pay that kindness forward. Turning his back on a destitute, helpless being, someone created in the Tsaritsa’s own image at that— you’re just as much a creation of Her as he is—like yourself at the time would have gone against everything the Church stands for. 

A whispered promise to deliver you from the vices and horrors of man and into the warm, loving embrace of the Tsaritsa was all it took for you to accept Tartaglia’s invitation to the Church. You would have accepted any offer of food and shelter at that time— whether or not it was simply luck or divine fate that it was Tartaglia who found you, cold and ill and alone, is beyond your comprehension. As far as you’re concerned, it’s both— who alive could show you more kindness than Tartaglia has throughout the past two years?

In addition to his otherworldly kindness, Tartaglia has shown you no shortage of patience since he took you in and insisted to personally teach you in the gospel of the Tsaritsa and personally train you in all the duties of a good, faithful nun. His affectionate nickname of “little lamb” has stuck with you ever since he first called you a lost one: a wayward, helpless, lost little lamb in dire need of the Tsaritsa’s— and his— guiding hand. He dressed you in the warm, soft dress and robes customary of all nuns, a massive upgrade from the tattered, worn clothes he found you in. When he had asked you if they fit your body comfortably, you didn’t tell him that they felt a little tight around your bust or your hips— beggars can’t be choosers, and all of his teachings of gratitude and thankfulness would go to waste were you to have the audacity to complain about a brand-new, clean, fresh outfit, wouldn’t they? Who on Tsaritsa’s green planet would even dream of complaining about anything when they previously had nothing?

You know better. Even if you didn’t know better before, you certainly do now— Tartaglia’s gentle guidance has taught you at least that much.

“Little lamb,” Tartaglia calls, resting a hand over yours as you go to flip a page in the Scripture book you’re holding. A chronicle of the Tsaritsa’s historical feats and accomplishments in addition to her dream for all of Snezhnaya, rather all of Teyvat, serves as the basis for the Church’s teachings, and Tartaglia personally ensures that you don’t fall behind on your readings by meeting with you every Monday evening. The desolate silence of the Cathedral after hours serves as the location for these studies— it allows you to immerse yourself in the grandiosity and significance of the Cathedral while you read. 

He clears his throat and repeats himself. “Little lamb, stay focused.” 

You smile sheepishly like a child caught sneaking a treat. “I’m sorry,” you offer, glancing over at Tartaglia’s gloved hand resting on your bare one.

He hums. “Something on your mind?” 

Ah. He’s always been able to see right through you— whereas someone else may have just concluded that you were growing bored of reading after having done so for three hours straight, Tartaglia deduces that your mind is elsewhere. He deduces not that you’re bored of the Tsartisa’s divine accomplishments because you’re a good, dutiful, dignified nun who would never, ever tire of hearing of Her feats. He can confidently assert that you’re everything a nun representing the Tsaritsa should be because he personally taught you everything you know.

Your cheeks grow hot with embarrassment. Allowing your mind to wander when you should be focusing on Her teachings is mortifying enough, but being caught daydreaming by Tartaglia is leagues more humiliating. “It’s nothing, I promise. Surely nothing more deserving of my attention than our studies.”

Tartaglia hums again as if he’s in thought then moves to close your book, resting his hand on the front cover. “Well, if it’s important enough to distract you from our readings, then it has to be worth hearing out, right?”

You didn’t think of it that way. Finally forcing yourself to make eye contact with him, you take a deep breath to steady yourself and begin speaking. “It’s embarrassing, really,” you force a shaky laugh in an attempt to lighten the mood… or maybe it’s to distract you from the fact that the useless, wasteful wandering of your mind just caused Tartaglia to end your lessons early. 

“It’s just that I…” Your voice grows quieter and quieter the more you attempt to speak. 

Tartaglia leans in closer, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “You can say it, little lamb.” 

“It’s humiliating, truly,” you finally continue. “But recently I… I’ve been having thoughts in need of purging, sir. M-More frequently than usual— they’ve only grown in frequency and intensity since our last cleansing.”

Thoughts in need of purging or, in other words, sexual thoughts that you’ve been taught to never, ever indulge because nuns do not indulge in lust. At first, the thoughts were infrequent enough to the point where you could effortlessly ignore them— even just the slightest distraction buried these thoughts completely. You could opt to sweep the Cathedral or tidy up your quarters and the thoughts would be gone just like that. 

The timeline gets fuzzier the more you attempt to recall it, but you guess that those thoughts first appeared about three months or so following when Tartaglia first took you in. You didn’t actually confess them until about six months into your mentorship under him, and he was quick to offer you a method to truly purge— not just suppress— your mind and heart of these lustful thoughts. 

However, those thoughts have yet to be truly purged. You must be broken— the thoughts have only increased exponentially following each and every cleansing session; whenever you and Tartaglia finish, your thoughts only grow more intense than before and you find yourself caught between the shame of confessing your moral degradation and the guilt of living silently with your thoughts. The idea of confessing that despite all Tartaglia’s patience and kindness with you and the cleansing rituals, your thoughts have only grown lewder and darker and nastier… how would that make you look? How could you ever look him in the eye and tell him that you fear you’re getting worse despite all his attempts to help you get better? 

Despite your internal conflict, you always, always confessed— you’ve probably had about seven of your private cleansing sessions with Tartaglia now. He taught you to never keep sins a secret, whether you actually acted on them or not. 

He doesn’t say anything for a moment— the minute of silence feels like thirty years and you begin to brace yourself for the firm scolding you deserve rather than the warm understanding he continues to undeservingly spoil you with. You wouldn’t be upset if he were to reprimand you or punish you for your incessant sinning— it’s what you deserve more than you deserve even an ounce of his kindness. 

That scolding never comes, however, and once those metaphorical thirty years have passed, he clears his throat, removes his hand from yours, and leans back in his seat. “I understand, little lamb. I’m glad you’re being honest about it.”

“Hey, look at me,” he coaxes. You didn’t even really notice that your gaze fell down to your lap rather than looking up at him until this request; surely it would have been more polite and sincere of you to look him in the eye while confessing the depths of your sins. 

“I’m sorry,” you rasp, hesitantly (and finally) looking him in the eye per his request. “I’m so sorry, sir. You’ve been doing so much to help me curb these thoughts and they still… I still…” 

He shushes you with a soft shh, taking your hand in his once more and smoothing his thumb over the back of your hand. “Sweetheart, it’s my job to help you and guide you. You know that. If I were the type to give up on you for failing once or twice or even a hundred times, what kind of mentor would I be? Little lamb, our cleansing sessions are important to me because I can see that you’re improving.” 

His kindness knows no bounds. Whereas he could have chosen to curse you or damn you for your incessant lustful thoughts, he instead expressed patience and understanding. 

Because Tartaglia is a kind, patient, and understanding man. 

“I guess that means another session is in order, huh, little lamb?” Tartaglia prompts you, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “We’ll continue our readings tomorrow once you’re… less distracted.” 

You laugh hesitantly, having been reminded of the utter humiliation of interrupting your weekly readings before you finished them by being too busy having lustful thoughts instead. You slowly rise to your feet and make your way over to the center podium where Tartaglia conducts all of his sermons— your cleansing rituals always take place right here because it’s, in his words, the holiest place in the entire monastery. 

You’re mortified. Humiliated. Here you are, a stupid wench of a nun who can’t seem to learn how to properly behave despite all of Tartaglia’s attempts at helping you. How long will you continue to test his patience, reverse his efforts, and take advantage of his kindness? When will you ever, ever learn? 

The sound of Tartaglia’s chair sliding against the cool marble floor alerts you that he’s ready to begin as well. He makes his way over to you and stands just behind you, a strong hand settling reassuringly on your hip through the thin cotton of your floor-length standard dress. 

He chuckles in a manner you’ve never heard from him before. There’s an unsettling sort of darkness in the way he laughs, his right hand gripping your hip and the left seizing hold of your chin to turn your head slightly towards him. Were you in the position to even dream of questioning him, you would probably find yourself unnerved by the sound— but you are in no position to doubt the man who’s shown you nothing but kindness since the day he met you. When you’re a lowly, sinful, wasteful little nun, you don’t have the right to doubt a man leagues more powerful, wiser, and well-versed in the Tsaritsa’s teachings than you are. 

These are not the depraved cackles of a man outside of the Church’s influence staking claim on a pliant, unwitting toy. Tartaglia would never steer you wrong, he would never do anything outside of your best interests as an aspiring member of the Church, he would never hurt you. 

Because Tartaglia is a kind, patient, and understanding man. 

He caresses your chin and hums a hymn you recognize from his sermons. “I must admit,” he whispers, gazing at you with an expression you couldn’t begin to decipher— it’s some mix of rueful bitterness, anticipation, and sadism. “I’ve been guiding you for two years now, and to see progress this slow… it does make me wonder if you’ll ever learn,” Tartaglia breathes against your lips, grinning salaciously in a way wholly unbefitting of a priest. “It’d be wrong of me to deem one of the Tsaritsa’s subjects a lost cause, but…”

Chuckling again, he releases your chin from his grip and traces a thumb up the swell of your cheek. Is he checking for tears? “But you?” He finally continues. “I’m starting to wonder if you’re even able to be redeemed. If it’s gotten to the point where you can’t even focus on your usual readings… maybe you’re just not cut out for this sort of thing, huh?”

Practically immediately following the last syllable that leaves Tartaglia’s mouth, a pained gasp escapes you and your eyes go wide with a sort of frantic horror. “No! Please, no, I’ll do— I’ll do anything!” Tears threaten to spill from your eyes as you beg him, plead him, implore him to help you— you really, truly would do anything to remain in the Tsaritsa’s— no, in his— good graces. 

He says nothing when you drop to your knees before him in a desperate display of submission, clumsily knocking one of your feet against the base of the podium. A tear falls from your eye and you don’t stop your body from throwing itself at his feet, clinging to the sweeping skirts of his robes like a lifeline. “Please, sir,” you wail pathetically, sobbing and sobbing and sobbing as if your filthy, self-victimizing tears will wash away the grime of your sins. 

While not undeserved even in the slightest nor totally unexpected, his sudden cruelty has you feeling more terrified than anything you’ve ever experienced in your life. Has he finally run out of patience? Has the dutiful, kind, intelligent Tartaglia who took you in when you didn’t have even a single mora to your name grown fed up with your stagnating progress? Have you gone backwards despite all the sessions you’ve gone through with him? Is he beginning to view his decision to take you in as a mistake? Is he going to brand your salvation a fruitless endeavor, forsake you, and throw you back out onto the streets of which he first plucked you from?

No. You won’t let that happen. He’s given you so much and you won’t let all of his time and efforts go to waste— you will improve. You will not simply indulge in his kindness while keeping it from changing your heart; you will take his teachings and allow yourself to be born anew as the spitting image of a follow of the Tsartisa. 

“Please forgive me,” you wail weakly, throat already feeling hoarse. With your mind gone and your desperation controlling your body’s autopilot feature, you bury your face in the fabric of his robe and continue to cry and cry and cry. 

Unbeknownst to you, Tartaglia smiles. 

“I forgive you,” he notes simply. “But you’re not trying to earn my forgiveness, are you? You’ll need to work for Her forgiveness if you’d like to really show me what a sweet, dutiful nun you can be. 

I forgive you, he said. You suck in a shaky breath and do your best to quiet your body-wracking sobs into tiny, pitiful hiccups and coughs instead. Tartaglia looks down at you with all the empathy of a stranger passing a wounded animal on the street and you buckle against him, your arms wrapping around his legs. 

“Let’s not waste any more time, alright?” Tartaglia says with a grin, prompting you to bashfully apologize again and clumsily rise to your feet. He doesn’t need to ask you to bend yourself over the podium because you know the process plenty well by now— the cleansing ritual involves partaking in behavior nuns are typically required to swear off, so if that fact alone doesn’t inform you of the desperation of the whole situation, nothing will. If Tartaglia deems it fit to break your vow of celibacy— and you would never even dream of questioning the logic behind this— in order to purge you of your sins, then you’ll accept no matter what. 

He hums in approval at your obedience. You catch on quickly… it’s a shame that you don’t truly internalize his teachings and learn quickly. 

“It’s okay, little lamb,” he reassures you, gently clutching your dress and lifting the fabric slowly until he’s exposed your ass to the cool Cathedral air. “You’ll do well tonight— just as you always do, right?”

You will. You’ll do so well tonight. You’ll behave and perform better than you ever have because you need to— it’s one thing to mess up your first time and a whole different thing to mess up your eighth time. You won’t let Tartaglia’s guidance go to waste, you won’t allow yourself to go to waste so long as he sees potential in you, and you won’t give up as long as Tartaglia continues to view you worthy of molding, changing, and shaping into the ideal nun. 

It’ll be okay. 

It’ll be okay. 

It’ll be okay. 

Slowly working your white panties down your thighs, Tartaglia gently parts your legs wider by knocking his foot against your ankles, all but kicking you open to give him some room to work with. You don’t feel as wet this time as you have in past sessions… does that mean your body’s ridding itself of all your sin and lust? He taught you that wetness is a sign of your body’s cravings, and if you’re no longer growing wet… that’s a good thing, right? The thought alone fills you with hope that you are not, in fact, a lost cause. 

The initial push of Tartaglia’s cock into your entrance hurts. You don’t deduce that it’s because you’re not all that wet this time— no, you decide that it’s because your sins are finally leaving your body and because nothing worth having ever comes easily. The pain is a sign that the ritual’s working as far as you’re concerned… and you breathe a shaky sigh of relief amidst your whimpers of pain as he continues to push inch after inch of himself into you. 

“Thank you,” you wheeze as your body attempts to relax around him. “Thank you for taking pity on me and… guiding me.” Just as you bent over his podium without being asked, you clasp your hands together in prayer before Tartaglia can ask you to— if you want to show him how obedient and receptive to his teachings you can be, it’s now or never. 

It hurts, but you don’t complain. Why would you ever complain when he’s trying to help you? Why would you complain when this is surely your body’s way of notifying you that your sins are leaving it?

“There you go,” Tartaglia grunts, cursing under his breath because you’re so fucking tight— he’ll have to remind himself that you’re not really one he can skip foreplay with, especially not when you’re this much of a wreck. “I knew you could do it, little lamb. I’ve always believed in you, you know. I’ve always thought that you’re special.” 

You barely have the mental capacity or rationality to compare these praises to his prior comments about you potentially being a lost cause. 

Your body adapts quickly enough— the stress of the somewhat dry entrance causes your body to quickly overcompensate, producing enough juices as possible in a limited timeframe in order to allow Tartaglia a relatively comfortable slide in and out of your pussy. He figures that nerves are to blame (or thank, in his case?) for your sudden insane tightness, your pussy squeezing up so tight he can barely manage to pull out. Oh sweet Tsaritsa, he thinks with a sleazy grin. This sort of nun is the best there is. 

“Your prayers, little lamb,” Tartaglia reminds you, grinning when you gasp out another apology for being so pitifully forgetful. It’s a prayer he himself wrote just for this occasion; just for you— that should prove the depths of his love and concern for you enough, right?

Nodding your head in understanding, you bow your head down to hang between your arms. “My Royal Highness, the divine Tsaritsa,” you begin quietly, crying out for Tartaglia when he blesses you with a thrust so deep you feel it all the way in your belly. “I plead for Your forgiveness. Forgive my transgressions and pardon my sins. Though I—” 

A moan of Tartaglia’s name falls from your lips and cuts your prayer short. Your priest seizes hold of your hips and all but jackhammers into you from behind, slaps resounding throughout the empty Cathedral as you pitifully attempt to complete your prayer amidst the sinful, sinful pleasure Tartaglia’s drowning you in. 

“Though I,” you repeat yourself, starting the sentence from the top. “Though I may be imperfect, and though I may act in ways unbefitting of a pupil of Yours, I beg for Your forgiveness.”

Another hard thrust has you faltering, and you fight off your instinct to unclasp your hands from their prayer position and grab at the podium for stability. Tartaglia’s hands grip your hips harder and harder to the point where you swear you can feel his fingernails through the fabric of his gloves.

“I vow to always act in a way befitting of Your image.” You squeeze your hands together so hard they begin to shake, your breath coming to you only in staccato gasps and strained whimpers. “Amen.” 

As you finish your prayer, Tartaglia hums in approval from behind you and rubs his hand over your ass in a soothing gesture. “There you go,” he praises. “You did such a wonderful job. I told you that you grow better and better the more sessions we have… perhaps we should make these part of our weekly routine rather than sticking to a case-by-case basis, hm?”

Whatever it takes to reach salvation and prove yourself to him. He’s such a busy, busy man and him taking time out of his schedule to read Scripture with you is already more than you deserve, and here he is, offering to cleanse you of your sins weekly and keep you at your absolute purest. 

Would it be sacrilegious to claim that Tartaglia’s kindness surpasses that of even the Tsaritsa Herself? 

[akiism]

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟎: 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐤𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐚 + 𝐠𝐮𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲

♡ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: tooru kirishima x afab!reader

♡ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: dom!kirishima, gun play, object penetration, vaginal sex, mentions of sex toys, somewhat rough sex, biting, cum eating, petnames “little one, sweetheart, baby”, praise

♡ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 0.6k+

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐍’𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐒𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐑𝐌 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐀’𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐓. he keeps telling you to stay still but how could you in this position? as you sit entirely naked in front of kirishima, with your back leaning against his fully clothed form, the cold tip of his gun teases the entrance to your quivering pussy.

how could you not be antsy given the circumstances. although you admittedly weren’t sure if you were scared about the idea of him pushing the barrel past your folds or if you really wanted him to do just that. either way it was undeniably that he’s collecting some of your wetness against the head of his weapon.

“little one, don’t move so much,” kirishima orders. this time his already gruff voice has seemed to lower more than usual. it’s enough to finally make you freeze. seeing you obey makes him hum with satisfaction. “that’s more like it. why are you so anxious? i already told you there aren’t any bullets in it”.

“t-that’s not the point” you stutter as his hot breath fans across the back of your neck. “i-it’s so… thick”. even you realize how lame that excuse is. the killing device didn’t even come close to kirishima’s own girth. “a-and i’m not used to objects being inside of me”.

kirishima tsks immediately. “not true. i’ve seen the dildos in your drawer, sweetheart”. embarrassed, you tell him that that’s not nearly the same thing. however kirishima appears less than impressed with the reasons you’ve come up with. “oh come on now. i just know you’ll look so pretty being stuffed full with my gun. won’t you indulge me a little?”.

your head’s telling you no but every other part of your body is screaming yes. you need something, ANYTHING inside of you right now and if it’s tooru’s revolver then so be it.

when you finally give kirishima permission by nodding your head, a toothy grin instantly makes its way across his face. “that’s my baby”. the tip of his weapon finally starts to push past your entrance. understandably, you wince as the object stretches your pussy.

it only gets more excruciating the deeper he goes. in between your sobs of pain are moans as the tip of his gun gradually disappears. kirishima shushes you. as if an attempt to distract you from the stinging, kirishima leans down and sinks his sharp canines into your shoulder.

somehow that does the trick. his teeth steal your attention long enough for you to adjust to your cunt being full of the unfamiliar item. as he soothingly licks the mark he left behind, kirishima starts pumping the glock in and out of your hole. you can’t stop your head from falling back against kirishima’s shoulder as you moan his name louder than expected.

“that’s it, taking it so well” tooru praises. “cum on my gun like the good little thing you are. maybe i’ll give you a reward if you do”.

you nod mindlessly in agreement. happy with your answer, kirishima keeps his pace steady. determined to see you make a mess he first tugs at your nipples with his free hand before proceeding to rub your clit.

the extra stimulation proves to be too much. breath hitching, you suddenly cream on the barrel of the firearm. you’re embarrassed as kirishima removes the piece. it’s covered in more of your juices than you anticipated and tooru isn’t shy about shoving the aftermath in your face.

“what a beautiful mess you made” kirishima hums, bringing his gun to his lips so his tongue can slurp up your cum. by the time he finishes and is able to kiss your cheek as a congratulations, your face is as hot as an oven. “well a promise is a promise. 𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃, 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓?”.

2022 © b-achiras — do not repost or translate my work. likes, reblogs, and comments are welcome

[akiism]

♡ on cam / hayakawa aki ♡

♡ kinktober 2022 ♡

pairing: hayakawa aki x fem!reader

word count: 1.7k

content: camgirl reader, soft dom aki, lots of praise, toys, exhibitionism, your boyfriend fucks you in front of all your viewers

this work contains explicit content intended for 18+ individuals. please read the tags and do not interact if you are a minor.

"Look at you — So pretty, baby. Everyone thinks you're so pretty." 

"Shit… I think they saw me." 

bunnyy34: OMG HIS FACE 

demonic_6: so handsome woww 

pochit4: holy shit he's hot 

pochit4: is that ur boyfriend????? 

Aki leans backward, adjusting your laptop on the bed, tilting the camera. He turns his attention back towards you once he's made sure the view is perfect. He presses the glittery pink vibrator to your clit firmer, then leans down. His voice is sultry, barely more than a whisper when he mutters into your ear, "Does it feel good, baby?" 

"Yeah, yeah," You mumble, your legs quivering, your whole body tense from the pleasure. Aki grabs your thigh with his free hand to steady you, rubbing in circles with his palm, then gently squeezing the soft flesh. 

Between his deep gaze locked on yours, his warm touch, his voice — You're doing so well for me, I love showing you off to everyone like this — the thought in your head that hundreds of people are watching you get off, and the buzz of the vibrator between your legs increasing as he cranks it up a level… It's hard to speak, or hell, even think. The only thing you're able to stammer out is, "Please, please, need you." 

"Fuck, I need you too," Aki cups your face; his palm is warm, and you whine when he drags the ridges of the vibrator against your clit. He sounds just as desperate as you, maybe even more so. "You want me to fuck you? In front of all these people?" 

Of course you want him to fuck you. This was your idea, after all. You're the one who begged Aki to make an appearance on your camgirl stream, who promised him you were sure it'd bring in loads of donations. He's always willing to help in your livestream endeavors, but he was hesitant about being on them himself. I'm sure they don't wanna see me. They just wanna see you, pretty girl. 

kon_1990 tipped $100!

kon_1990: please fuck her already 

bunnyy34: she's so fucking cute 

dev1lhunter: damn he's lucky 

dev1lhunter: bet he gets to stick his dick in her whenever he wants to 

Well, Aki has to admit a few things: One, that he assumed wrong, because your chat seems to really get a kick out of seeing the both of you. And two, that he enjoys this way, way more than he thought he would. 

Honestly, there's something about playing with you in front of all of these people, seeing the comments they make, and knowing he's the only one who gets to fuck you that has him whipped. He's the only one who gets to touch you, and he damn well knows he can make you feel better than any toy can. 

Aki's gonna have you screaming his name for your whole audience, he's sure of it. 

"Tell me," Aki commands when you don't answer, his words shaking ever-so slightly. He swallows before he speaks again, "I need you to tell me what you want. Tell me how you want me to fuck you in front of everyone." 

"Yeah, 'course I want you to…" You beg through broken gasps, hardly able to speak as Aki doesn't let up with the vibrator against you. You're so sensitive, so wet; you can feel the way your thighs are soaked, how you're dripping out onto the sheets. "Want all of them to see."

Aki's eyes flicker to check the laptop screen for a moment, and when they do, his gaze lingers, a little smirk forming on his face as he reads what your chat is saying. He addresses your chat directly, his voice taking on that familiar, serious tone: "I can fuck her better than good. She's gonna cum on my dick harder than she does on any of her little toys." 

ea5yrev3nge tipped $30! 

ea5yrev3nge: I'll tip 200 if u show us how good u can fuck her 

angelicaura: aye I got here late what's happening 

bunnyy34: topknotluvr is gonna get fucked by her bf lol 

His hand moves to your chin, where he carefully grabs your face and tilts you towards him, forcing you to look at him. He asks, "Isn't that right?" 

You're already lost in the moment, in the pleasure on your clit and the way he's so unexpectedly into this. His gaze is deep enough to drown in, his eyelashes heavy. You babble, "Right, right…" 

Aki pulls the vibrator away and finally clicks it off. He tosses it to the side on the bed and reaches for the laptop, adjusting it again. This has to be perfect. He needs everyone to get the most perfect view when he fucks you, when he puts his cock inside you. God, the thought of it alone, of everyone seeing and watching and knowing that you're his — It makes him feel lightheaded, and Aki quickly fumbles to pull down his sweats and his boxers to free his stiffening cock.

He grabs your hip to pull you in closer, and the head of his cock throbs when you feel it nudging your entrance. It's pretty and thick, certainly enough for your viewers to ogle at, and he's already so hard, dribbling sticky precum over the shaft. He wraps his hand around it, giving your audience a bit of a show as his nimble fingers pump his cock, palm swiping over the tip to get it wet. He's been waiting for this just as long as you have, practically aching to be inside you. 

demonic_6: omfg 

_futurerules: can she even take that 

snowball97 tipped $125! 

"Spread your legs wider for me, baby," Aki commands breathlessly, and then affirms, right after, "There you go. Good girl. I want everyone to see how you take me." 

He settles his hands on your waist, adjusting your hips a bit more before he presses inside. He gasps, breath hitching as he buries his dick in further, muttering something you hardly catch, something like, So tight. Slowly, he fills you, letting your viewers see how you take every inch of his cock. When he's all the way in, his hips flush with yours, he groans, his head falling to your shoulder. 

You tangle your fingers in his soft hair as he starts to fuck you. Nice and slow, allowing everyone to watch the way his cock stretches you each time he presses in, the way your cunt grips him every time he pulls out, the shaft glistening with your slick, with how wet you are. 

Aki acknowledges it, speaking quietly into your ear, voice strained and trembling, "So wet for me, God..." 

"Hah, s-shit," Aki stammers, and his eyes flicker to the laptop screen for another brief moment. He presses his soft lips to your neck, then to the shell of your ear, and finally whispers, "They want me to fuck you harder, sweetheart. You can take it, yeah?" 

demonic_6 tipped $75! 

demonic_6: fuck her harder 

dev1lhunter: im gonna cum already 

"Uh-huh, please," You babble, nodding your head feverishly. 

"That's my girl." 

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Aki is wasting no time fucking you harder, burying his cock in deeper, giving you more. It's so messy and sloppy, your thighs soaked. Your room is filled with the obscene, wet sound made as he fucks you, your quiet moans, and his shaky breaths. You wrap your legs around his back, pulling him in even closer. 

You've been so caught up in the moment that you almost forgot how everyone is watching. All your viewers and adoring fans: their eyes are on you as you get fucked by your boyfriend, by Aki. The thought alone makes your heart flutter and your cunt tighten around him.

You mumble his name, desperately, "Aki- Don't stop." 

"God, baby," Aki groans, voice bordering on a whine; it's hard for him to speak now, too. "Say it louder. I want all of them to hear you."

bunnyy34: did anyone catch that???? 

angelicaura: cute 

snowball97: oh my god was that his name 

So you oblige, chanting his name over and over again, louder and louder — Aki, Aki, Aki — even though your voice has gone weak and hoarse, words fraying at the edges. Aki finds your hand, intertwines his fingers with yours and squeezes tight. 

His moans are becoming noisier, more needy, his heart skipping a beat and his cock throbbing every time you say his name; he places hurried, messy kisses to the nape of your neck to shut himself up. You can feel his breath fanning out over your skin, warm every time he gasps for air. 

Although he's overwhelmed, Aki focuses his attention on pleasing you; he finds your sweet spot, like he always does, hitting it with every thrust into you, until your eyes threaten to roll into the back of your head and you end up squeezing his hand back even tighter. You're getting close, feeling a knot of tension grow in your core, and your words slur when you beg, "Really close, Aki please. Wanna cum for you-" 

"Yeah? Oh, babygirl," Aki falters for a moment, his pace growing ragged, more desperate as he approaches his own high. "I'm close — Gonna cum with you, let everyone hear how pretty you sound when you cum for me." 

You fall apart for him then, your legs squirming where they're held over his back. Your cunt pulses, squeezing his cock tighter, and he can't hold back; Aki rides the same high as you, fucking you messily through your orgasm, spilling his cum deep inside, his cock twitching and throbbing from the aftershock.

You're chanting his name over and over, and he's saying your name in unison, under his breath, quiet enough so only you are able to hear. "You did so well, you're okay," He whispers, "Just breathe." 

Aki gives you a moment to relax before he pushes himself off of you, brushing his messy hair from his face. He asks, "Want me to turn off the stream now?" And when you nod, he's reaching for your laptop. 

ea5yrev3nge tipped $200! 

angelicaura tipped $170! 

_futurerules tipped $50! 

_futurerules: that was so hot 

bunnyy34: does anyone know if he's gonna be on her next stream?? 

kon_1990: I hope so 

demonic_6: probably, I think she made it to the front page 

You peer up at him, his eyes glinting and earrings shining in the low light of the laptop screen. You ask, "How did it go? Did they like it?" 

"Yeah, baby… Wow. So many donations," Aki closes the browser, shutting the laptop, turning back towards you with a little smile on his face. "How about I take you on a shopping spree tomorrow — What do you think?" 

[akiism]

df!madara mikejima x fem!reader smut

ABORT MISSION. you’re tasked with getting information and run in to someone you shouldn’t have.

contains : fem!reader, nsfw, not proofread, mentions of killing, double face!madara mikejima, possessiveness, use of the word cunt/pussy, use of good girl, stomach bulge, slight size kink, praise kink, slight breeding kink, inaccurate lore, let me know if there’s anything else i should add!

a/n : let me just preface this fic by saying madara mikejima makes me incredibly unwell. some more stuff you should know before reading this is; madara might be slightly ooc but i tried my best to keep his teasing and carefree personality in there. i also tried to keep the dress up to the reader’s imagination besides being low-cut and has a slit in the side to expose reader’s legs. this is also the first full smut fic i’ve written in a while so i truly apologize if any of the actual smut part is rusty, let me know!

word count: 5.5k+

by clicking read more, you are consenting to reading nsfw. read at your own discretion.

This was not how your night was supposed to go. 

Not at all.

You weren’t excited about having to meet Gatekeeper in the first place, but orders were orders, and you had dedicated your life to following them. However, it seemed like the rest of the world decided to test the oath you had sworn all that time ago. You look down at your glass of champagne, reminiscing about the beginning of your evening as you avoided eye contact with a certain someone.

Your dress clung to all the right parts of your body to accentuate your curves, the colour of the fabric suited perfectly to compliment your skin tone. Your heels clacked against the cement pathway leading to the huge mansion where hundreds of rich, overpowered men and women of the music industry (and more) would be gathering tonight. What should have been nervousness coursing through your veins was instead replaced by the adrenaline you usually felt during your missions - somehow comforting to you, perhaps a curse to others. You mastered the art of hiding what you truly felt, the shake in your hands long gone by the time you arrived at the huge doors of the mansion. 

You could hear the classical music from outside, letting other invitees brush by your shoulder as you repeated the same mantra in your head - you can do this. Truthfully, as much as your brain loved to overthink things, you already knew you could do this. You’ve done it a thousand times before, what’s one more mission to add to the list? 

Well, for one, having to initiate contact with Gatekeeper and gather intel is not your ordinary mission, at least for someone like you. Gatekeeper was someone involved beyond the idol world, and you didn’t step out of that boundary… much. He was powerful, well-known, and most importantly, a killer. A nagging voice at the back of your mind rudely reminds you, ‘well, who isn’t?’ and you quickly decide to put an end to those thoughts, instead replacing it with your analytical, observational ones as you finally took your first step inside the building. 

Gold decorated the halls, marble columns holding the twenty-foot ceilings up high, intricate designs laid upon them. If you weren’t in such a controversial position, you could’ve possibly enjoyed the architecture and paintings decorating the walls, but now wasn’t the time to think about it. 

Now was the time to find a drink and naturally let your well-crafted persona surface - now it was time to infiltrate and gather information on the people you so desperately despise. You walked up to the bar, ordering a glass of champagne for yourself, and you took a seat once the bartender handed you your drink, scanning your surroundings. Everyone was dressed to the nines; you noticed one woman had a pure diamond necklace resting on her neck, surely worth thousands. Her jewellery could put your own to shame, the ones your boss had so generously given you for this specific night, and you knew he spent an incredible amount of money so your costume was as perfect as possible. 

You took a sip of your champagne, letting the bubbly drink soothe the rest of your nerves. A nice drink, you thought to yourself, maybe you’ll sneak a bottle back home when you leave. God knows you wouldn’t be able to afford it outside of this place. 

“Enjoying yourself?” A voice spoke up from next to you, and you smiled as fate has dealt you a good hand (ironic, you bitterly think now, considering the situation you’re currently in) - next to you stood a tall man with slicked back hair, dressed in an all-black suit and expensive gold rings adorning his fingers. 

Gatekeeper. 

He’s good-looking, but certainly not your type. A certain brunette came to mind- damn it, brain, this isn’t the time!

“Yes, I am.” You gave him a small, charming smile. “And you?” 

“Of course I am,” Gatekeeper chuckled, “I’m surrounded by beautiful music and now I’m in the presence of a beautiful woman. How could I not?”

You patted yourself on the back for not letting your smile waver out of disgust. “Well, it’s a lovely night for such an occasion. You are?”

Granted, you knew everything about him already - or, as much information as there is about him out there. If you truly knew him, you wouldn’t be here. 

“Gatekeeper. And you…?” His hand reached out to shake yours, and you gently accepted it.

You gave him the fake name that your boss had given you for the night, and Gatekeeper nodded, smirking. If he had seen you before around ES Square, he didn’t give away that he recognized you - and knowing how careful you’ve been about your true identity, you doubt he had ever even heard of you. “A pleasure.” 

“Well, the pleasure is all mine.” He raised his glass of red wine, and you clinked your delicate glass of champagne and gave a small ‘cheers’. 

You continued talking about this and that, mostly about the newer idols making their units’ names known. Gatekeeper had an alluring voice, you’re aware, but it doesn’t work on you. He tried to drag you in with his sweet words, and you played along, assumingly falling into the trap he thought he laid out in front of you. However, there was no glint in his eye when he talked about the things he’s apparently ‘passionate’ about - his smile was fake, and the politeness in his voice was void of any true respect towards you. You’re just another pawn in his game, but little did he know you have control of the board. 

The conversation flowed smoothly with your perfect lies, the two of you faking each moment spent together. You knew you were getting somewhere when he accidentally dropped the name of someone you recognize - before, he had just been talking about his colleagues anonymously. 

Gotcha. 

It shouldn’t have been this easy though, and unfortunately, you proved yourself right when you caught a glimpse of a long, green jacket flashing by, and another matching uniform quickly passing by in the hall. To anybody else, they were invisible, perfectly moulding with the picture-perfect, rich environment surrounding you all, but to your keen eye, they were practically glowing.

Double Face was not supposed to be here.

Madara’s green eyes locked onto yours, and you saw the shock on his face before he quickly wiped it off, melting back into his stone-faced look. Shit. Kohaku noticed his reaction, and turned his head in the direction where his companion was staring, his eyes landing on your figure right next to Gatekeeper. Shit, shit, shit. 

You frowned right back, but before either of them could look away, you placed your arm on the bar’s high table and tapped the counter repeatedly, without Gatekeeper noticing as he glanced away when someone called his name. Tap tap, pause. Tap tap tap. Pause. Tap. You swear you saw a look of relief wash over Madara’s face, and he nodded, before motioning to Kohaku to follow him, and just like that, they disappeared into the crowd, but you can still feel Madara’s eyes on your body. 

Which brings you back to your current predicament. 

Gatekeeper turns back to you and notices the way you stare absentmindedly at your champagne. 

“Is everything alright?” He asks with faux-concern. 

You turn to him, looking at him and give him a perfectly sculpted nervous smile. “Yes, I’m just not used to being in such a big venue with so many people. What am I even supposed to do?” 

His calculating eyes seem to ponder your words for a moment - shit, did you slip up? There was no way you could have. However, Gatekeeper merely chuckles and his hand comes up to place itself on your right cheek, cradling it gently. God, you want to throw up. “Don’t worry, my dear. I’ll teach you.” 

He places his empty glass of wine on the counter, you following in suit, and leads you to the ballroom, where couples dance together to the classical music the orchestra plays. His hand settles on your waist, the other entangling itself in your own (ugh, is his hand sweaty?), which prompts you to place your free hand on the bicep of his arm holding your waist. 

“Do you dance?” He asks you. 

“Quite poorly.” You hope you step on his foot. 

“Nonsense, nothing a little practice can’t solve.” And with that, he starts to sway to the orchestra, and you play your part of the helpless woman who can’t dance to save her life.

(You’ve taken dance lessons since you were six.)

You continue to dance in your waltz of lies, continuing to talk about the idol life between the two of you - ever since his slip-up, Gatekeeper chooses his words carefully. The alcohol must have loosened his tongue, but the namedrop sobered him up quickly. He was a smart and calculating man, you’ll give him that. 

Speaking of smart and calculating men, you can feel the gaze of your favourite one staring right at you, and a subtle glance to the right confirms your suspicions. Madara is still keeping an eye on you, not out of maliciousness, but rather of concern. The small furrow of his brow is familiar to you (he gave you the same look when you accidentally fell off stage during your unit’s practice), and you try to give him the most subtle reassurance you can muster through eye-contact alone. His once crossed arms slowly go back to his side, and he taps his pointer finger against his thigh - alright, he’s saying. But the fire in his eyes is far from dying down. The look on his face sends a shiver down your spine. 

The song comes to an end, and with that, so does your dance. You try not to pull away too quickly from your partner, unless you want to give away how eager you are to stop touching him. 

“Tonight was lovely,” Gatekeeper says, tucking a stray hair behind your ear, “but duty calls. I hope we will meet again soon.” 

Go to hell, is what you want to say, but you hold yourself back. “Thank you for the dance.” And with that, you part ways. 

You try to find a quiet place to gather your thoughts and go over the intel you’ve collected thus far from your quiet conversations between the man. Your eagerness to get out of the ballroom keeps you momentarily distracted, and while turning a corner (perhaps too quickly) your face makes contact with a soft wall. You keep your yelp down, a hand smacking right over your mouth. 

A soft wall? 

Looking up, you lock eyes with the man who has been distracting you all night. 

“Mikejima,” you greet, trying not to look too excited upon finally talking to him - keeping your true emotions at bay was hard with him, it seems. 

He says nothing back. One of his gloved hands settles on the small of your back, pushing your body completely flush against his, his other hand coming up to the back of your head, tucking it in his neck. Madara’s lips brush against your ear as he leans down to speak words only the two of you can hear. 

“You have a lot of explaining to do.” He says, and something in your lower stomach ignites. 

You try your hardest to ignore it - if you gave in to your true feelings, he would become a liability, a weakness, somebody who can be used against you in case you ever fall into the wrong hands. 

There’s no anger in his eyes when he pulls away from your rather intimate position to look at you, only aggressive concern. In fact, the anger appears when he looks towards the ballroom, and you turn to see him glaring daggers at Gatekeeper, who is now mingling with an older-looking man - the exact man he name-dropped earlier. 

“Let’s move someplace else.” Madara gently grabs your hand, dragging you off into the hallway you had turned towards earlier. 

“What about Koha–” You start to say, but he interrupts you. 

“He’ll be fine.” 

Knowing he’s right, you nod, and the two of you set off into the maze of hallways, coming across fewer and fewer people until you’re in a seemingly-abandoned section of the mansion, and Madara opens the door to a lavish-looking bedroom. 

He closes the door behind you both, and motions for you to sit on the bed. Hesitantly, you do so - what if he was actually mad, and truly thought you were working alongside Gatekeeper? You’d rather die. 

“What were you doing here tonight?” He’s standing right in front of you, arms crossed once again. 

The one question you can’t answer. 

“Who do you work for?” The brunette asks. He takes one step forward, and it feels like your eyes are permanently locked together as you keep your mouth shut tightly. 

Another question you can’t answer. 

“...Do you work for Gatekeeper?” 

“No.” You immediately say, knowing that you can answer that question. 

“Thank god.” Madara sighs out, a small grin on his face. “I knew it, but hearing it from you is a thousand times better.” 

It seems that even on a mission, he still holds that carefree personality he tries so hard to uphold. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask. 

“C’mon, if you can’t answer that, you think I can?” 

Your shoulders drop, and you rest your elbows on your thighs, head going slack. You feel like you can finally drop the persona you perfectly crafted for your mission in Madara’s presence, and you can hear him chuckle at your relaxed body language. 

“Tough day at work, huh?” He muses, and you let out a small, breathless laugh, raising your head to look at him. 

“Something like that, yeah. I feel nearly damn tainted by having his hands on me.” You don’t have to even say his name, because both of you know exactly who you’re talking about. And judging by the frown once again settling on Madara’s gorgeous features, you know he’s not a fan of Gatekeeper in the least. 

“I didn’t like him touching you like that.” 

It’s hard to not read into his words, but when an attractive man standing right in front of you says that - the same attractive man you’ve been fantasising about for god-knows-how-long and desperately crushing over - your brain nearly goes haywire and you feel yourself warm up. 

Your head goes back to resting in your hands, and you can clearly hear Madara’s slow footsteps approaching you. He crouches down to your level so he can look into your eyes. When you make a point of not holding eye contact (curse your stupid brain), his hand grabs ahold of your face and keeps it still. His fingers are pressing against your jaw gently yet firmly, and it feels like electricity zaps down your spine as you see the look in his emerald green eyes - his pupils are nearly completely dilated. 

Deciding to test the waters, you ask:

“Touching me like what?” Your cheeks warm up even more at the sound of your meek, desperate voice - Madara must’ve heard that. 

He sighs, his eyes closing momentarily as his head drops a bit, his bangs covering his face from your view. He looks back up after a second or two, his messy hair framing his face beautifully, and you feel like you’ve died, gone to heaven and been greeted by an angel. “Never realised you’d be a brat about this.”

“A br–?! Ah!” Your exclamation is quickly interrupted when Madara’s hand leaves your face, instead hooking underneath your thighs so he can make you fall backwards onto the bed, and he quickly crawls on top of you, his strong thighs keeping you in between him. 

“You know exactly what he did.” He mutters, and your faces are so close your noses brush against each other. The warmth emanating from him seems to surround you, and your heart beats wildly against your ribcage as you feel your cunt clench around nothing. 

Madara’s thumb strokes your bottom lip, letting his touch leave a fiery trail in its wake. Your breath shudders in anticipation, waiting for him to do something, anything, more. Your eyes flutter close, and the man on top of you huffs.

“Look at me.” He demands. 

Your eyes snap up to him once you hear the stern tone in his voice, and he smiles at your compliance. 

You’ve always been a rather assertive woman, not letting people walk over you as long as you could help it. You know what you want and how to get it, and your missions have always been successful because of your attitude. However, with Madara on top of you, all you can think about is how badly you want to be good for him. You know he’s thinking along the same lines as you as you glance down and see a tent in his dark grey pants. 

Your hand reaches out to give him a bit of relief, but before your fingers can brush against his clothed dick, he grabs your hand and pins it above your head. Madara bends down to mouth against your neck, the neckline on your dress exposing your delicate skin and being suggestive enough to leave others wanting to see more. 

“Seeing him touching you like that, it pissed me off so much.” You can hear the strain in his voice, his hand tightening around your pinned one. Your free hand comes up to run your fingers through his soft hair before cupping his face, and he gives you a gentle look. 

“Mikejima,” You say softly, “It’s a mission. That’s all it is.” Your thumb strokes his face, and he seems to lean into the comforting contact for a moment before he hardens his expression again. 

He leans down until his lips are right next to your ear, and you feel goosebumps cover your skin as he continues speaking. 

“I know,” he mumbles, “but he should know not to touch what doesn’t belong to him.” 

The fire in your lower stomach continues to be fanned by his words, and you clench your thighs together, desperate for some sort of friction to pleasure yourself. Madara’s sensual touches only make you feel more needy for what you crave. You decide to continue to push his buttons, tilting your head in mock-confusion. 

“Who do I belong to, then?” 

That was the tipping point. 

His thigh moves in-between your own, pressing against your clothed cunt and he lets go of your hand to place both of his on your waist, rolling your hips to grind against him. You whimper at the sudden action, your own hands reaching out to grasp his shoulder tightly. You feel his strong muscles clench underneath your touch, and you’re suddenly reminded of how strong Madara really is. He could easily use his strength to snap your neck, but instead he’s using it to keep your body flush against his own.

He leans down to nip at your neck, finding your sweet spot quickly as your moans get louder and more desperate, and you feel his teeth bite down hard enough to leave a mark in a very obvious spot for everyone to see. He clearly wants to imprint the message in your mind - you belong to him. 

Madara moves to take the strap of your dress off of your shoulder so he can leave more bruises along your collarbone and shoulder, his hand slipping from your waist to cup your breast and give it a firm squeeze. Your breath gets caught in your throat, and you start moving your own hips against his thigh desperately. 

“Are you so desperate for me you’re gettin’ off of my thigh?” You feel his warm breath against your skin along with his lips curling into a smile. 

Your face feels like it’s on fire as you shake your head, embarrassed. “‘M not…” 

“No need to be shy, baby,” he chuckles, “tell me what I wanna hear, and maybe I’ll give it to you.” 

Madara’s hand wanders down as he speaks, trailing down to your thigh and disappearing in between the cut of the dress that exposes your leg. His touch sets your body ablaze, his fingers finally brushing against the area where you need him most. He traces the lace of your underwear before letting his hand cup your heat, and stops all movement as he looks at you expectantly. 

What he wants to hear? 

He taps a finger against you as you take too long to reply, and you jolt at the sudden contact of his finger against your clit - the light touch leaves you wanting more. He gives you a disappointed look, nearly giving you puppy eyes, and you panic internally as you feel him start to pull away.

“Well, I guess you didn’t want this, then...” The hand that cupped your breast moves to cup his own erection instead, the outline of his dick clear against his tight pants. In the dim light of the room, you can kind of see how big he is. 

“No-!” You say quickly and desperately, yet mindful to keep your voice down in case anybody did come into this part of the mansion. “Please, I need you so badly.” 

“Say it then,” he says, unbuckling the belt around his waist. It’s at that moment that you realise that his long, green jacket (you think to yourself that it counts as a cape) had been removed previously - you must’ve been too distracted to notice. “Tell me who you belong to.” 

Oh.

You know your panties are ruined now. 

Your body feels like a furnace as you try to muster the courage to say the words he wants to hear. 

“Mikejima, I belong to you.” 

“Don’t call me that.” 

What?

You think for a moment before you realise - he wants you to call him by his first name. 

“I’m yours, Madara.” You say confidently. You realise it’s the first time you’ve ever called him that. 

He groans happily, fully taking his belt off and loosening the tie around his neck. Madara rewards your answer by running his fingers through your wet folds, covering them with your own arousal. The movement of his hand is restricted by your underwear, which he impatiently rips off of your body.

“Hey! I liked those.” You whine. 

“Aw, that’s too bad,” he gives you a fake pout before he speaks again, “but if you keep whinin’, I’ll use it as a gag to shut you up. You want that?” 

As hot as it sounds at the moment, you shake your head - you want to feel his lips against yours, and having a gag in your mouth would prevent that. Madara smiles at your willingness and carelessly throws your ruined panties to the other side of the room. He continues undressing himself until he’s shirtless, his toned, strong body on display for you to appreciate. He moves the two of you further up the bed until your head is comfortably resting against the soft pillows, your hair splayed out around you. Your lover climbs back on top of you, strong arms keeping you caged underneath him - in that moment, with your eyes hazy, lips parted in a silent pant, you look like an angel to him. 

Madara’s hand goes to the small of your back, lifting it up so he can find the zipper. He slowly takes your dress off, careful not to let his eagerness get in the way. 

“Oh, so ripping the panties is fine, but the dress is off limits?” You cock an eyebrow, and he laughs lightly in reply. 

“Seeing you in this drove me crazy,” he admits, “I wanted to fuck you then and there when I saw you.” 

His words make your cunt clench around nothing again, and your whine nearly sounds like a moan. Once your dress is fully off, he tosses it on the ground, and his hands are immediately on you once more. 

Madara kisses you, his lips fitting perfectly against your own. His fingers trail down towards your wet cunt, once again gathering your slick before he finally pushes a finger into you. You moan, and he takes the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth, tangling it with your own. Your head feels fuzzy from the stimuli as he thrusts his fingers inside your warm pussy, your juices running down his hand and onto the mattress underneath the two of you. Your thighs start shaking and your body jolts at his touches, and Madara wears a proud smirk on his face, removing his fingers from you. He holds them up to your mouth, waiting. 

“Be a good girl and clean them.” You obediently listen, opening your mouth and letting your tongue wrap around his wet fingers, sucking them clean. He removes them from your mouth with a ‘pop’, and lets his head drop to lean against your shoulder and mumbles, “So good for me, huh?” 

He sucks another hickey on your skin, and you nod your head. 

“Yes- yes, only for you.” Your voice sounds breathless and needy, making Madara chuckle. “‘Dara, please, I need more.” 

“Whaddya want?” He teases you, but he’s already taking his pants and boxers off, revealing his thick, long cock. He’s impossibly hard, leaking precum, and you feel your mouth water. He snaps his fingers in your face, bringing you back into the present. 

What is it with this constant teasing? You complain about it in your head, but your body has a different reaction - you feel yourself grow more aroused, if possible. 

“I… I want you.” You say quietly. 

“What’s that? I couldn’t hear ya.” He rubs the tip of his dick along your folds and you both shudder at the feeling, but stops moving to await your answer. 

“I want you, Madara.” But it’s not quite enough.

“C’mon, speak up. Aren’t you supposed to be my good girl?” 

Fuck, you’re desperate to feel him inside of you at this point. You push your embarrassment aside, wanting- no, needing to cum. 

“Please, Madara, I need you so bad!” You shut your eyes as you beg. “I need you to fill me up, ple-”

He finally pushes his cock inside of you, your slick making it easy. You both sigh in relief, but your sigh turns into a loud moan at the feeling of his size inside of you - he’s so big and he feels so fucking good, you’ve never felt so full before. 

Madara isn’t faring any better; your warm walls suck him in so easily, cunt drooling around him, and he’s trying so hard not to snap and fuck you into the bed. But the sight of his dick disappearing into you is driving him insane, and he sees a slight bulge coming out of your stomach. Out of curiosity, he places a hand down on it, and nearly folds when he feels you tightening up around him and moaning. 

“Fuck, (Y/N), you feel so good.” Madara says, sounding quite breathless himself. All he wants to do is fill you up with his cum, to see you leak his seed, to have everyone know that you’re his and he’s yours. 

If he isn’t careful, he knows he’ll get carried away. 

“Please, please move- please,” you beg more, “fuck- you’re so big-” 

He starts thrusting slowly, your body getting used to his sheer size - you know you’ve been ruined for any other man. Nothing will satisfy you the way Madara can. 

You get lost in the pleasure, but it’s still not enough to bring you to your end. There’s a certain itch at the back of both of your minds that neither of you can’t quite pinpoint, and one particularly hard thrust from Madara makes you moan out - loudly. 

“M’dara, need you to fill me up,” you say without thinking, “wanna feel you cum inside-” 

The man on top of you stills, processing your words. Shit, you think you’ve fucked up. However, his hand places itself on your stomach, right where your womb is, before speaking. 

“You want me to fill you up here?” He asks, and you nod your head vigorously. 

Something snaps inside of Madara, and he suddenly continues his movements, but more quickly and desperately. His hips snap against you, his dick angled perfectly to hit your g-spot continuously, and you nearly scream his name. 

“Careful baby, there are still people - fuck - here. You want them to hear you?” He says through his breathlessness, but you’re too focused on the intense pleasure you’re feeling. “You want everyone to know who’s fucking you this good?” 

 If your lover was being honest with himself, he wants people to hear you.  

“N-no!” You exclaim. 

Your brain feels muddled, drool seeping out of the corner of your mouth - all you can focus on is Madara’s cock filling your insides. His hand moves down slightly on your stomach, and he feels his cock moving around in you, pressing down to make you tighten up like you did earlier. Sure enough, he gets the same reaction, and he knows he’s approaching his end. 

“Fuck - you’re gonna take all my cum like a good girl, aren’t ya?” Madara says, and he thrusts deeper than before, hitting a spot that even you haven’t reached before. 

“Yes, yes- I will, I’ll be good for you, only you!” You babble. 

Through his delirious pleasure, he remembers earlier that night - seeing you in your dress, talking to Gatekeeper while he flirted with you - he nearly walked over to fuck you in front of everyone to show he’s the only one who can make you feel that good, he’s the one that gets to feel your pussy wrap around his cock perfectly like you’re made for each other. His calm and collected demeanour from the earlier mission seems like a joke to him now. 

“You’re so amazing,” he continues, “so fuckin’ beautiful, I just wanna fill you up…” 

The thought of filling you up with his seed, and it actually taking makes him nearly cum then and there. To imagine your belly round, breasts plump and heavy with milk gets a weak whimper out of the back of his throat, and your legs tighten around his waist as he starts pounding you into the bed. 

You tighten up around his thick length even more at his praise, and he knows that you’re getting close as you start to moan his name, begging endlessly and becoming more careless about your volume. When he leans down to level his lips to your ear, you know you’re a goner. 

“Come for me, my love.” You cry out, your pussy clamping down around him, your juices gushing out. The feeling triggers Madara’s own orgasm as well, pouring his hot load into you as you milk him dry. He pumps every single last drop into your tight cunt, and there’s just so much that it makes you whimper, feeling it drip in between your thighs and land on the mattress, mixing in with your own fluids. 

You catch your breath, Madara hesitantly pulling out, letting his body drop next to yours on the bed. You feel more of his cum leaking out of you, and the brunette tuts disappointedly, his fingers scooping the excess liquid and fingering it back into you, careful not to overstimulate you - you shiver anyways, your thighs shaking violently and he finally pulls his fingers out once he’s sure he’s done a good job. 

You both turn on your sides to look at each other, the smell of sweat and sex wafting throughout the room. The moment is quiet and tender as you look into each other’s eyes, Madara smiling softly at you. 

“You did so well.” He says, tucking some of your hair behind your ear - his touch is nothing like Gatekeeper’s, and you feel safe in Madara’s arms. “Let’s get you dressed so we can get out of here, shall we?” 

He helps you get back into your dress after he gets back into uniform, and you leave your ruined panties behind. Your legs are shaky as you walk towards the main door, and you try not to walk too stiffly - but also not casually enough where other people can see the trail of Madara’s cum seeping down your thigh. You both walk out the doors, and let out a deep sigh of relief at the same time. 

You look at each other, and there’s silent understanding between the two of you - finally, your mission is over. 

(After the party is over, Gatekeeper tries not to question the ripped panties in the corner of one of his guest rooms.)

[akiism]

Rough sex maybe with slight breeding kink with ibara or izumi? You can choose 👀

୭ 𝗶𝗯𝗮𝗿𝗮’𝘀 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗱𝘂𝗰𝗲𝗿

୨୧ pairings : ibara saegusa x fem! reader

୨୧ warnings : public sex, rough sex, degradation, breeding kink

you’re a nice, considerate and helpful little producer. unfortunately, your help was taken for granted by someone..

finally IBARA SMUT!! yk, tumblr actually DELETED the first smut of this and i. LMAOO!! it’s alright, i tried my best to get it as close as the original.. hope you all enjoy it <3

the desk creaked with each thrust underneath you. the sounds of skin slapping against eachother filled in the room. you were currently bent down against the desk, getting fucked by none other than ibara himself

as a producer, you shouldn’t be doing this— not only would your reputation go down the drain, eden would too aswell. though ibara gave no mind to it, the only thing he wants right now is to fuck you mindlessly

“fuck.. you’re a good producer, aren’t you? hm? always so willing to help me out. look at you, so pliant for me.. or better, you’re nothing but a filthy whore..”

you whined out as his words, it doesn’t make it any better that he’s literally degrading you while he’s fucking you this good. his words were supposed to stung you, to hurt you. though you found it hot, hearing that husky voice say out many harsh words to you made you clench even harder on him

ibara groaned when he felt you tighten around him, thrusting in even faster than he did before. your whines slowly turned into loud moans until he had to shut you up with his fingers

“shh.. don’t want anyone else to hear us here, don’t you? or are you that much of a whore? you really want us to get caught like this? my, who knew that our darling producer was this naughty~” he bent down to whisper into your ear, nibbling on the lobe as he went on to fuck you

your eyes rolled to the back from the sensation, rather than trying to disagree with his words all you did was succumb to him even more. one of his hands gripped your hips tightly, surely to leave marks soon. he left your back to return to his normal position, his hips moved even faster, thrusting into you at an inhumane pace

you began to claw on the desk, desperate to find something to hold onto. tears began to flow down your cheeks, too caught up with the immense pleasure he was giving you. you heard ibara let out a dark chuckle before opening his mouth to say

“shit, i’m close.. gonna be a good producer and take it all for me, right? fuck, gonna fill this pussy up real good.. stuff you up until you’re leaking.. make you walk around the es with this cunt filled up.. yeah, s-so good..” you whined, your mind was now filled with so much nasty thoughts.. the thought of just walking around with his cum in you— the looks you’d get if they see white liquid dripping down your thighs..

you came from the thoughts of nasty daydream, clenching around him even tighter than before. your body trembled beneath him as he kept on thrusting into you, groaning as he catches onto his high

soon enough, his thrusts falter as he gave you one hard thrust before cumming in you, hot spurts of cum coating your walls. he looked down to where you both connected, seeing how his cum seep out of your cunt as it drips down your thighs, the sight of it made him groan out

once his cock softens, he took it out and made himself look presentable again. laughing to himself, he walked to the front of the desk and gave you a chaste kiss before leaving you alone in the room, all messed up from the sex

before ibara went any further, he loudly reminded you “better get yourself cleaned up, producer~ we’re gonna have a meeting soon, don’t want anyone to find you like that now do you? see you soon~” with that, he left you

i am horny finally some rough sex. so tired of vanilla i need some rough mean eye rolling toe curling degrading sex.

[akiism]

MOUTH FROTHS BARKS IM ON MY KNEES N BEGGING !!!!

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏 — THE HANDMAIDEN.

In the frozen land where the outcasts belong and the peculiar is home, tomorrow is never promised. Intertwined your fate with the Harbingers might be, it’s in your best interest to remember: the cold swallows the weak and Snezhnaya knows no tears.

⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆ f!reader. undertones of yandere. unprotected sex. power play. a hint of dark content so be wary! further warnings are written on each character’s part! not proofread.

PIERRO ! breeding kink. lots of cum. unprotected.

it was the jester who first deemed a handmaiden like you worthy of attention. from simply picking you out in the throng of retainers in zapolyarny palace to exchanging curt greetings whenever you serve him tea, your existence slowly took shape in his mind. it was but a mere dot until he molded it into something bigger than yourself: he offered you status in exchange for fucking your pussy raw.

whenever pierro ruts into you ruthlessly, you think of it as his personal goal. the goal of needing to puff up your cunt with his fresh cum once his cock and balls begin to swell. pierro folds you in positions that give him access to your womb, where he dumps fat amount of cum after fat amount of cum. doing so much as pinning his balls to your folds and plugging your hole with his sheer size, pierro is adamant about not spilling a drop. and when your pussy does leak, he takes it upon himself to stuff you with another load double the amount of what you spilled.

some nights while you lay on his chest and with courage flickering like an ember in your heart, the urge to ask him why tips your tongue. but before your curiosity could materialize into verbal words, you would be reminded of where he truly hailed and what the circumstances are of said land. perhaps pierro fucks you with a need to get you pregnant as one way to spread his khaenri’ahn blood.

CAPITANO ! womb fucking. in new york’s voice i know his dick big— i know it. size kink.

capitano thinks of you as a battlefield. in truth, you are nothing of the sort. not a wasteland of bodies emitting miasma putrid enough to destroy one’s stomach. it took him weeks chewing over the irony before surmising that his enticement has everything to do with his lusting for blood and annihilation. in his eyes, you are a battlefield he must conquer. unlike pierro who has given you status, capitano offered you strength in exchange for your little puffy pussy taking his huge cock.

don’t be scared, he’d whisper, it’ll fit. pressed against your stomach, no cock of such girth and length could ever fit in someone’s cunt. you feel so little in his arms, extremely so whenever you work your body down his whole length. and once he’s fully sheathed inside, with his fat crown pushing right into your womb and veins thick enough to stimulate, you shiver and sob. capitano is deep in your guts and he knows it, always drawing gentle circles on your back to allay the sting of having stretched your pussy out and to soothe the enfeebling sensation of his cock tip kissing your womb each gentle thrust.

many stories surround him, most of which are bone-chilling. they say capitano is the harbinger of death, and that hiding behind his mask is the skewed face of a monster hell spat out. you admit to believing the hearsay once, but calloused is his skin might be, you have never been touched by hands so gentle. consider it clemency, since you must not forget: capitano can easily break you if he so does will it himself.

DOTTORE ! exhibitionism. voyeurism. creampie.

in zapolyarny palace, the name dottore typically sparks caution in the hearts of many. christened as the doctor, he is the paradox of warmth normally seen in someone in the field of medicine. you have done all that you could to be stationed somewhere else other than in his laboratory, but a handmaiden’s fate is as pliant as clay in the hands of those with power. therefore, when he offered you wisdom, all you could do was give him the same. wisdom that is through letting dottore’s segments completely fuck you witless in front of him.

he likes observing your face contorting with lewdness. watching drool racing down your chin, tits bouncing as one of his segments drills his cock into you from the back. there’s nothing more gratifying than biting your lips with your eyes rolling heavenward while your pussy sucks in cock after cock. he enjoys the sounds you make but loves popping his cock down your throat when your screams become too noisy for his liking. but when you come undone by having been fucked until your legs are shaking with thick amounts of cum spilling from your cunt, dottore finds himself admiring nothing else but the image before him.

he wouldn’t have thought that his sexual fantasies could be sated without venturing out to the nearest brothel. for that, he bestows you a chance to ask him two questions every time he fucks you. it is a deal sealed months ago that has benefited both parties involved. and dottore loves to keep things as it is. he’d continue doing so as long as you wouldn’t ask questions at the cost of your precious, precious life. it does not matter how much dottore adores you, he would never think twice.

PANTALONE ! predator and prey dynamics. dubious content. nasty. he rubs your asshole. i’m sorry i was so horny while writing his part. creampie. drool. unprotected.

possessing mora enough to buy a whole region makes a man forthright in his intentions, be it pure or soiled with nothing but personal gain. because in the face of money, even the most deviant minds and sickest of hearts appear gilded. you have been proven of the warped reality when letters from your family burst forth in your chamber. each parchment contains fervent gratitude for a name that turned your blood gelid. mr. pantalone is a very kind man, indeed. please do not forget to thank him for the year’s worth of food he supplied us.

the first time you thanked him, pantalone fucked your pussy until the hole was gaping, as though asking for more. he completely owned you: mind, body, and soul. he pistoled his cock deep in your guts for hours, with his eyes rolling back to his skull and his cheeks tinted pink. at one point he almost cried overstimulating his cock tip by kissing your cervix and squirting bouts of cum in your womb. you’ve found out that he particularly prefers when you bounce on his thick shaft, squelching him dry while he gropes your tits and licks your nipples until his mouth is spilling out saliva. sometimes he would rub your asshole as you come around his cock, because he revels whenever your pussy pulses around his girth to milk his balls sapped of cum.

as a man with unparalleled wealth, pantalone sure likes to count. he’s skilled at keeping scores, striking a line on your inner thigh with a glaring ink for every round where he leaves your cunt cum-filled. with each line equivalent to ten million mora. you’d enter pantalone’s chamber every week as a handmaiden, then come out a wealthy one— albeit powerless. regardless of how blinding mora is, it must not hide the truth from you: pantalone, the richest man of all, can take your opulence just as easily as he gave it.

CHILDE ! mindbreak. protected sex. condom used. childe is feral. drool.

childe, the 11th of the harbingers, is appreciated by many if not all. an unusual sight in zapolyarny palace, yet the warmest one. he is a glorious warrior, especially when wielding his weapon. a sight worthy of awe, for he moves with precision and speed that are not of this world. owning aberrant strength, childe is meant for blood and glory. and he evinces it all by providing you security whenever you prove just how formidable of a harbinger he is behind closed doors.

drool on the pillows, hands barely hanging on to the sheets, with your mind spinning after hours and hours of childe drilling his cock into you until your stomach flattens on the bed. he pounds your pussy vehemently, shifting positions every time to abuse your sensitive spots. feet over his shoulders, knees against your chest, missionary, name it all. he’ll fuck you in ten different positions each night to break your sanity. and every time he slides his cock out of your wet cunt with his fat and heavy cum pulling the rubber down his twitching shaft, he ties the condom around your legs as proof of his strength.

what makes a warrior is his stamina, and childe would do anything to prove that he’s a formidable one. be it through fighting or fucking, he has yet to fail in either of those aspects. he has dominated you more than once. it is you who willingly walked in on his life like a vulnerable mouse sauntering to a viper’s maw. you have no one else but yourself to blame for the venom in your veins.

SCARAMOUCHE ! voyeurism. perv!scaramouche.

scaramouche is his name and he’s the most enigmatic of all. some whispers say that it is merely a moniker to conceal his identity. to bury his past, to birth him anew. vexed with more than half of the zapolyarny palace, the quiet places and shadows are his companions. you think he hates you, too, for none could be spared from scaramouche’s temper. but unlike everyone else, he has found something quite entertaining in you. regardless of its nature, you have not exactly been favored by the harbinger. he remains truthful to his ill temper no matter the circumstances.

when you part your thighs before him, shaking fingers while playing with your pulsing clit, the way he stares burns at your skin. there is humor in his eyes. as though the way you pump two fingers in your wet and untouched cunt serves as peak amusement for him. perhaps it is, perhaps it is not. scaramouche has mastered the schooling of his expressions, sticking only to that of pure malice even if he has you bared before him. he loves commanding you to touch your cunt with your legs extended wide, or pinch and rub on your clit until you’re shaking at where you sit. sometimes he’d tease and tug at your nipples, but he has never gone further than that. and you fear that he never will.

brewing between you is one crooked relationship. scaramouche has not any need for you other than to satisfy his odd fantasies. he has been forthright from the beginning about his intentions, saying that he merely wants to see for himself what’s so special about a handmaiden like you that has the other harbingers on their knees. all his provocations hold with them a promise, and that perhaps one day, scaramouche will try and seek out the answers for himself. but that day is not today.

⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆ 💭 reblogs && feedback appreciated !

[akiism]

video girl | hayakawa aki

PAIRING.  aki x fem!reader (established relationship)

LENGTH.  2.5k

NOTES.  mappa aki has me acting unwise……

SYNOPSIS.  aki misses you so much when he’s away for missions, especially when you start sending him suggestive texts on your lunch break. good thing he has a folder full of videos of you stashed away, right?

CONTENT.  18+, pwp, sexting, nudes, filming, exhibitionism (ish), pet names (baby, princess, sweetheart), solo (m) (he watches a vid the two of you made together): creampie, cumshot, ass play, daddy kink, breeding kink (light), multiple orgasms (m + f), begging; flashbacks/references to: oral (m rec), oral (f rec), facial, anal, solo (f), toys; reader wearing a skirt; a touch of codependent aki because i simply luv that for him <3

A/N.  all my love always to my akiwife mystic @uppermocns for a few of the ideas that went into this and for thirsting for this man 24/7 with me!!!!

DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS WORK IF YOU ARE A MINOR. BY CLICKING THE READMORE, YOU CONSENT TO VIEWING THE CONTENT STATED IN THE WARNINGS.

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[akiism]

ONE OF MY FAVES OF ALL TIME FR !!!

antecedent a.h.

summary: prequel to repentance. An insight on what being friends with benefits is like with Aki Hayakawa.  

warnings: 18+ content mdi, smut, friends with benefits, fem reader, fingering, overstimulation, vaginal penetration, choking, soft dom Aki, mentions of death, manga spoilers, 

word count: 3.9k

a/n: look at me finally remembering to write in the use of a condom aren’t you proud.

Aki was aware he should never consider mixing work with pleasure. He knew well enough with Makima that he would never get the chance with a beautiful lady like her which led him to settle with you. It was degrading at first, being put in a league so far out of Makima’s, yet it was so hard to compete with someone like her.

It didn’t seem long that you were working with Aki, but at the same time it felt like you could give him your life and die happy in the process. As devil hunters, it came down to that more than you’d like to admit. Aki saved you more times than you could count and you’d done just the same for him.

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[akiism]

・✶ ｡ﾟ you think that shinichiro might have a natural talent for eating pussy.

♱ warnings — f!reader, pussy eating, inexperienced!shin, it’s his first time <3

♱ note — yes i’m back w more shin content . i can’t help myself i’m sorry </3 hes 2 pretty !

“have you done this before?” you breathe and shinichiro blows out a slow breath that makes you tremble, his fingers squeezing at your drool-worthy thighs from where they’re tossed over his shoulders and spread for him.

“nah, first time. wanna make you feel good though.” his voice is carefully neutral, his tone carrying the same lazy drawl as always despite the edge of desperation that makes you burn.

but he feels his whole body shiver when you cast him a starry eyed look before your fingers are reaching down to split your folds, letting them part your lower lips so he can discover the warm slick that’s gathering between them.

this is all new territory for shinichiro, so his blown gaze stays trained on the way your fingers explore the intimate skin, sucking in a breath when he feels his cock throb with the twitch of your thighs when you brush over your puffy clit.

“this.. fuck, this is the clit.” you murmur, lips parting to whimper when you let the pad of your finger trail under the hood before he’s peering up at you through heavy eyes, and the way he watches your body melt so intoxicatingly makes it feel like his ears are ringing.

“so that’s y’re spot then, angel.” shinichiro drawls, desire heavy in the undercurrent of his voice that’s driven by the weight of his arousal, and it’s almost too fast how eagerly his mouth replaces your fingers.

he’s sure you had more to tell him, show him, but with the first press of his lips against the sensitive, puffy bud and the way you moan for him already has him too mindless to hold himself back any longer.

his calloused hands imitate your movements from earlier as he spreads your folds, bathing the bud in mindless licks and rolls with his tongue and he can feel the way your slick only seems to intensify—these are good signs, right? but fuck, he can’t look away when he watches you wiggle and twitch in time with his movements.

it’s like how he’d kiss you, shinichiro thinks as he remembers the articles in those womens magazines that wakasa and benkei always bought him as a joke, telling him he’d “need to know how to do it some day.” but with the way your fingers are twisting in his messy, dark hair now — he thinks he should really thank them next time he sees them when he gives your pussy another eager, messy lap with his tongue as he makes out with your cunt.

“fuck, those ‘re some pretty sounds.. that feel good? could get used t’ this.” the low tone of his voice sends blissful vibrations straight through your clit before he’s curling his tongue around your pussy, groaning when he feels the first greedy squeeze around the entrance to your walls that only feels like it’s luring him in.

shinichiro’s movements are clumsy but there’s something about the way he’s eagerly drinking you up, smacking and slurping at the first real taste of you as it drips down his cheeks that makes your abdomen tighten. he wants to eat, drink, breathe your pussy for the rest of his fucking life.

“shit, baby. dunno how i went so long without ya—been keepin’ this pretty pussy from me.. ‘m already fuckin’ addicted.” his words are too muffled from where he’s buried himself in you, he’s experimenting and driven by the way you’re crying for him — fingers twitching where they’re twisting in his hair and the searing pain only makes him feel dizzier, drunker on you.

but shinichiro’s efforts only seem to grow messier, feeling his tongue finally dip past into your walls to explore what’s hidden beneath, experimenting when he lets the muscle graze along the sensitive nerves — his nose grinding against your clit with every eager swipe as needy, breathless sounds fall from your lips.

he doesn’t think he ever wants to stop when he hears the first breathless croon of his name from your lips, mindless mantra’s about how you’re so close and he feels like he’s going to fucking pass out. you’re pulling at his hair, guiding him back and he knows what you want when he’s hooking his tongue around your clit once more, it feels firmer, more sensitive when he’s twisting and laving it over the bud as you meet his movements with eager, intoxicating humps.

“feels s-so good, shinny! gonna make me cum—ah!” god—you’re so fucking cute. “yeah, baby? gonna let me do this again for ya? y’taste too good.” shinichiro’s fingertips feel like they burn you when they squeeze into your skin.

he remembers your movements from earlier when he trails his tongue under the hood of your clit and closes his lips around it, suckling languidly as his eyes flutter closed in bliss when you rock yourself against his mouth, letting him bathe the bud in mindless licks and rolls with the wet muscle.

“that’s it, angel. n-need y’to cum on my face, can you do that for me?” he’s babbling and you’re trembling, hearing his own muffled moans against your cunt as bliss curls down your spine with every eager roll of your hips, chasing the twist of pleasure in your abdomen as your slick coats shinichiro’s cheeks and chin.

but then you finally stiffen, pulling him deeper into you when your orgasm suddenly rolls over you in waves and he only dives into you eagerly, groaning shamelessly at the first taste of your cream on his tongue as his eyes roll back. “holy fuckin’ shit, my baby tastes so good.”

shinichiro’s slurping and drinking you up greedily as he flattens his tongue against your folds, bathing you in long kitten licks until you’re finally slackening and pushing his head away with an over sensitive whine. but not before he’s placing one more soft, wet kiss against your clit.

he’s flushed to his chest, cheeks to his chin glistening with your juices while his chest expands with every shaky breath he takes to catch his breath before his wet, blown gaze is meeting your own. his cheek smooshing against your thigh as his fingers trace along the skin and he blinks up at you.

“fuck.. y’look so pretty like that, angel. why’d you have to stop me, could’ve kept goin’ all day.”

© 2022 garoujo. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[akiism]

BEDRIDDEN, S. GETOU

| INCLUDES, fem!reader x suguru getou, morning sex, unprotected sex, cream pies, light nipple play, light dirty talk, established relationship, he slaps your ass, a bit of cervix fucking | WORD COUNT, 4.8k | SYNOPSIS, Suguru does his best to convince you to stay in bed with him. It works. | AUTHOR’S NOTE, thank you to my sweet beta reader/editor @jazzyangel242!! | MINORS DONT INTERACT

He wakes up to the sound of music that’s as quiet as a whisper—so quiet that he assumes it’s just in his head. Thin rays of sunlight peek through the blinds of your shared bedroom and he shifts mindlessly so it no longer hits his face. He’s laid on his bare stomach, an arm underneath his pillow, the other beside his head, and long, raven hair sprawled behind him. Though, some loose strands tickle his cheeks and cover his eyes. 

With blurred vision, he lazily searches for you on your designated side of the bed and mumbles your name in his groggy, sleep ridden voice. 

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[akiism]

RELEASING PENT UP FRUSTRATION ! !

✦ ִֶָ ࣪ AUTHOR’S NOTE ! ! requested by a lovely mutual ! v self indulgent for them xx <3

✦ ִֶָ ࣪ SYNOPSIS ! ! you like to play video games during your free time, at first, your boyfriend, suguru getou, didn’t mind. but when you started to pay more attention to your pc screen more than him, he knew he had to get your attention back. but wait, his bestfriend, satoru gojo, is in it too ?

✦ ִֶָ ࣪ WARNINGS ! ! nsfw ! ! fem reader, nicknames bunny & princess are used, getou being kind of mean but not rlly, cockwarming, gojo is on call while getou fucks you, teasing, slight hair pulling, male masturbation, dumbifucation, breeding, etc .

✦ ִֶָ ࣪ TAGLIST ! ! @devmimi @luvbladez @snake-titan @yrivlove

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[akiism]

・✶ ｡ﾟ shinichiro doesn’t see a problem with it if he’s about to close soon anyway ♱ warnings : f!reader, exhibitionism, slight marking, it’s late at night though, i am literally so obsessed with him i’m dizzy.

“s-shin, you’ve not closed up yet—fuck.” you gasp as shinichiro squeezes at your waist, rolling his hips into yours as your walls spread and twitch around his cock, pulling a low, shameless grumble from your boyfriend.

but despite the unease in your words — you’re still pulling him closer, meeting his thrusts with needy little humps of your own, while your pussy tightens around every inch you lose each time he draws his hips back, like you’re desperately trying to keep him plugged inside.

“‘n so what, this ‘s my shop, y’ know.” shinichiro groans roughly, deliberately slowing his pace to a slow grind in favour of suckling messy marks into the dip of your shoulder, burying his dizzying, needy groans into your skin before he’s deliberately making an act of grazing his lips across his silver chain that’s hanging around your neck.

it’s lewd, the loud squelching sounds that are echoing through the dimly lit bike shop, the squeaking of your ass along the glass counter below you with every thrust — the surface slick with a mixture of your juices that shin’s pushing out everytime his cock sinks into your soaked cunt.

you want to be embarrassed, nervous that he may end up getting a late night customer — a random delinquent bike repair wasn’t unheard of, even though shinichiro seems to believe that dimming the lights would make you both invisible as he fucks into you from where he’s got you pinned to the front counter, like there’s not a full sized glass window at the front shop.

but when he deliberately grazes his cock along the swollen spots inside of you, the only retort your brain can think of is a sharp gasp of his name.

although if anything the risk only makes your senses burn brighter, because every eager throb of shinichiro’s cock along your twitching walls and every grind of his pelvis against your puffy clit has you seeing stars, leaving pretty, red scratch marks along the ivory skin on his shoulders.

“you could’ve waited until we atleast got ho—home.”

“nah—hnghh, shit.. needed you now, baby. ‘n you’re so fuckin’ tight, already g’nna make me cum.” you recognise the change in his tone, low and dripping with want and need, a kind that makes your pussy ache and your breath come uneven as you exhale with reverence across his lips.

you can feel the way his eyes flutter closed from where his face is resting in the crook of your neck, desperately trying to keep some form of hold on his sanity as to not completely lose himself in the fluttering push and pull of your pussy.

but he’s never had a woman moan for him like you do, spread out for him so eagerly on the counter of his bike shop and shinichiro feels like he’s about to lose his fucking mind.

“what if s-someone hears.” you gasp and you’re pretty sure your voice sounds just as desperate as you feel when you hear him huff out a laugh along your skin. but he sounds half as fucked out as you do right now when he rolls his hips, grinding deep up into your twitching walls as he drags his nose across your cheek, fucking you with firm, easy thrusts that he knows will have you moaning sweet for him.

“huh? jus’ quit bein’ so loud then, baby.”

© 2022 garoujo. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[akiism]

men who look so clean in suits but who will fuck you to filth

[akiism]

For the nastiest thirst 😼

Suguru’s hair brushes my neck and sort of drapes on me as he’s chest to back w/ me thrusting slow with one hand wrapped around my waist to keep me close and the other gently turning my face to meet his as he glides his tongue on mine ALL while maintaining intense eye contact😩😩😩

Look at me

Geto x reader smut

A/n: I wrote this in class cause I was so excited to write it. Send me more of your nasty thirsts and ill do my best to quench em.

Warnings: Unprotected sex, rough fucking, pet names

It tickles.

Getos long black hair dancing your shoulders, his heavy breathing against the back of your neck. Even the way his cock drags against your walls, kissing your cervix, tickles. It makes you squirm away, pussy trying to push out the intrusion. But the muscular arm wrapped around you, holding you close against Getos chest, prevents you from moving.

“Uh uh uh, don’t run way from me princess” he says, voice dripping with ridicule. You squeeze your eyes shut when Geto thrusts up particularly hard, you mouth hanging open agape at the pleasure. His dick hits something gummy and sensitive inside of you, the new type of pleasure that came with it racking your brain and making drool seep out from the side of your mouth. He smiles, knowing he found that specific spot that will have your pussy spasming and cumming in no time. It feels amazing for geto too, offering his own low groans at proof of the wonders you cunny did to him.

“S-shit baby you feel amazing you know that? Look at me baby when I make you cum.” His words go in one ear and out the other, your too focused on the tingling feeling of ecstasy in your core. Geto grunts. “I said,” he grabs your face, slightly twisting your body so you could look at him from behind “look at me.” Your field of vision is met with stern black eyes staring right back at you. It’s then you realize just how utterly hot your boyfriend is, and for some reason that has another wave of fresh warm pleasure washing over you. He pulls you in for a kiss, your lips immediately reacting to his. Its hot, and messy, warm tongues gliding and dancing with each other, parting a millisecond to take a breath before diving right back in to recaptures each others mouths. Its silent for a bit,  only moans and the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. But the silence is broken when you feel your brain go stupidly numb.

“I’m gonna-I” you can’t even finish your sentence, your climax is tumbling toward you faster then you anticipated.

“Cum, cum on me baby.” Geto says through a strangled groan. The molten hot pleasure in your tummy is too much now and your finally falling over the edge in a hazy bliss.

“Oh fuh-” Geto buries his dick as far as he can into you, releasing so much hot sticky liquid the it seeps out the tight fit and onto the floor.

[akiism]

I've seen people make requests so here's mine ig

so we already know Yuutas the most sexually deprived man on this planet but even so I think that man has the filthiest desires like mf wants to breed, bite, mark you until you are down for the count and even then he won't stop cuz like you feel so good squeezing him and taking him and you can take more of him can't you?

Anyways he's done also done almost everything with you at this point bc why not? PLS I NEED HIM IN MY LIFE 🛐🛐

She's mine

Yuuta x Reader

A/n: I put my whole pussy in this.

Warnings: Biting, breeding, cum kink, hickeys, spit, sub space

~

Yuuta is a man capable of much restraint. Except when he isnt.

Like right now when you're underneath; dough eyes filled with fat hot tears and skin jumping with the slightest bit of touch. You're a mess, a beautiful one at that. You're body is slick with sweat and every time your bodies collide, skin sticks and unsticks together in a fast paced haze.

"You're so warm baby." He mummurs into your ear, relishing in the way your warm walls hug his dick. Its like the two of you were made for each other; the way he shapes your insides so perfectly with every thrust, juices drippping down your cunny and onto his heavy balls.

Then it hits him like a truck.

Oh god he needs to make you full of him.

He needs to mark you up with his teeth, fill you up with his cum, fuck you enough until your entire being is riddled with signs of him and all you can think of is him.

So thats what he does.

First he starts by placing his mouth everywhere it can reach. You yelp as he sinks his teeth into the crook of your neck to leave bright red marks, rubbing the welting skin with his thumb and mumuring praises of just how good your taking him. Then he moves to your supple breasts that bounce up and down with each thrust; catching one of your nipples in between his lips and sucking harshly on the skin.

"Mhm Yuu! m'too much!" You cry, but you're pleas fall onto deaf ears. Yuuta's too far gone. Theres a glazed over look in his eyes like his body has switched to auto piloet.

He continued to press sloppy, wet, hot, and bitten kisses against your neck, you were a perverts fantasy. "Gonna fill you up-" He manages to groan out moving his hips in a half circular motions for a moment, to make your folds open up more, exposing your clit to him. He place his thumb on the nerve and starts to rub tight circles making your jaw slacken with pleasure. "Come'on baby cum with me."

As if on cue, your body siezes up, your stomach dips and a surge of pleasure racks through your body. With one final thrust Yuuta stills himself in your fluttering cunt, letting his speed spill out of him and fill your womb. Its so warm, so so so warm in your tight walls that you cant him but squeeze around him, drawing out more.

[akiism]

thoughts heavy rn all im thinking about is hayakawa aki

[akiism]

aki getting you to hold his lit cigarette while he fucks you in the back of his shiny new car. telling you to be good and not let any of the ash fall on the leather upholstery. trying so so hard to focus on not letting the smouldering end drop but the entire car is shaking with how roughly he's fucking you down into the seat :(