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[ohdarlingohsweetheart]

your kidnapper verbally detailing their sick fantasies to you and then very softly saying come here

[ohdarlingohsweetheart]

I'm not looking to start shit so I'm not linking it or anything, but you may have seen a recent anti-dark-content post circulating with a lot of notes making rounds in the x reader sphere and while I have nothing against people posting their feelings in their own private spaces, every time I see these kinds of posts there's a lot of misinformation that gets regurgitated in the reblogs/replies and I saw what looked like a battlezone in the replies, so.

I know posts like that can be very jarring and affects people like my readers, so to combat misinformation/shaming for anyone who saw it, I'm going to share some of my information on combatting fandom puritanism/misogyny/kinkshaming in its most common forms.

The most important fact, if you read nothing else, is this:

Most women have rape fantasies.

62% to be exact. I think the most pervasive myth on this content is that consumers are "weird" for it, when the numbers don't indicate that. You're in the majority!

The vast majority of people who have rape fantasies do not put them into practice in real life. A variety of factors can determine whether or not they do, particularly specific psychiatric disorders. (X)

To specifically address common harmful and pervasive myths:

the "go to therapy!" line

Generally any academic or professional resource will immediately tell you that consuming and engaging in "dark" fantasies is accepted and encouraged by mainstream psychiatry and part of the professional education for psychiatrists. (This also used to be pretty well-known until like the last 5 years or so, not sure why that changed.)

Here are some particularly insightful resources:

1) This article by Dr. David Wahl, in my opinion, hands-down does the best job of simply and thoroughly explaining why these fantasies occur and why couples practice CNC, as well as the fact that they are both harmless, psychologically beneficial to those with them, and not at all correlated to real-life rape.

2) Dr. Claudia Six has some of the best and most thorough material out there on the subject, specifically explaining why this is taught in mainstream academia psychology and how it is incredibly helpful to rape victims (X).

3) Lisa Diamond is a professional who focuses on this subject a lot, and was featured in the documentary "The Dilemma of Desire," in which she specifically focuses on how these fantasies are not correlated to real-life desires. (X)

4) Dr. Casey Lyle has specifically talked a lot on his socials about how fantasies, even in men/the perspective of the offender, do not correlate to actual risk of offending.

5) This article is not by a professional, but from the perspective of a survivor discussing how it is beneficial to survivors.

the "why would you want that?" line

The idea that fictional tastes = what you want to happen to you in real life is actually of misogynistic origin. I don't want to seek out or add links on this one, but if you're really curious, you can research about how the idea that "women read rape fiction, that means they secretly want rape!" was originally a classic "red pill"/MGTOW/4chan talking point that made its way into mainstream dialogue and thus the public mind in the last 15 years or so due to the incel epidemic popularizing those communities.

the "it's only valid for survivors then!" line

On one hand, yes it's very important to acknowledge that trauma victims use it to cope, however I feel that over-emphasizing that gives the impression that non-victims should be excluded from consumption of dark content, so to clarify, it's a very valid means for all women. Many women who have not personally experienced rape still fantasize about it, and that's fine.

The full explanation as to why this is true for many of them would be lengthy (and addressed in the aforementioned Dilemma of Desire documentary), but in the simplest terms, nonconsensual sex is the only context in which patriarchal society permits women to have sex at all without feeling guilt. For many women, particularly those in more heavily misogynistic or religious cultures, these fantasies are appealing because the idea of consensual sex may give them feelings of shame, guilt, "sin," etc. These fantasies allow them to experience the feeling of being desired without guilt of participation.

No society on earth is free of the psychological grip that cultural misogyny has on women, and shaming women for adapting to the conditions they are forced to exist under is as harmful as the misogyny that causes it itself.

ALL women experience a form of psychological trauma inherent to female childhood and female adolescence in a patriarchal world, and that is just as valid as coping with individual traumatic events.

Good resources on the subject of why women have these fantasies and how they are helpful in general:

(X) (X)

The "what you consume will make you do it in real life!" myth

Although the resources above already address this, it's important to establish why this myth is so prevalent and what its origins are.

The idea that consuming media with dark themes leads to or indicates desires to replicate those acts is a residual element of two major events:

1) Puritan revival culture, popularized in the US and UK in the 90s and 2000s (also known as "Satanic Panic"). A major facet of this movement was TV megachurch preachers making money off of exploiting well-meaning but paranoid parents into believing that your child playing Dungeons and Dragons or Pokemon would make them future serial killers and lure them into satanic cults. (X)

2) at the tail end of this, it was cemented in the public mind as a cultural ripple aftershock of the Columbine shooting, where this sentiment became popularized as the general public blamed violent video games like Doom and "dark" music like Marilyn Manson (whose life was temporarily completely upended by the events and took him years to recover/be safe from) for the 1999 shooting. This event had MASSIVE permanent and global effects in all sorts of ways that the public often underestimates the sheer scope of, notably that it solidified, prolonged, and, in the minds of many, "proved" the paranoias of the preexisting Satanic Panic. (X) This established a precedent, leading to virtually any major horrible event being blamed on the perpetrator's media consumption, including murder and sex crimes.

What this myth ignores in the cases it references (the slenderman stabbings, columbine, sasebo slashing, batman shooting, etc) is two crucial facts: that hundreds of millions of people consume the same media with no negative effects (helpful effects even), and that in every single case cited as "evidence" to the claim, the perpetrator had a preexisting psychiatric condition correlated to acts of violence (which usually went ignored, downplayed and even accelerated/worsened by those around them rather than the help they needed).

Sorry for the wall of text, but I feel an ethical obligation to combat this kind of misinformation, and I hope these resources are helpful for those who may be negatively affected by common misunderstandings.

You are not abnormal or wrong for the fictional content you consume or the fantasies you have!

[ohdarlingohsweetheart]

Here's my own tutorial on how to sleep with your kidnapped victim partner. I did not take comfort as factor btw I think this was a trend?? I don't know I just remember seeing similar drawings before.

[ohdarlingohsweetheart]

late-night devil, put your hands on me // nsfw/18+ hisoka x afab!reader

cw: afab!reader [no pronouns used]; nonconsensual somnophilia; dubcon/noncon elements; vaginal fingering; rough sex; hisoka is his own content warning™ wc: 2k

Hisoka often wonders to what extent you, in all your mundane normalcy, can feel the weight of his bloodlust—if it settles on you like a lead blanket, or if it only fills you with that sudden, unexplained sense of dread you once described when he showed up at your door, covered in someone else’s blood and overflowing with a ravenous desire. If only you could feel just how heavy, how oppressive, his need can be. He wants to crush you with it, watch you struggle and gasp under it as the air is forced out of your lungs, hear your screams as it fractures your fragile little bones.

It would be so beautiful—so euphoric—to break you.

He traces his nail along the window-screen, observing you from his perch outside your bedroom window. He glimpses you in shadows, only shapes and subtle movements, but you’re there, your skin probably prickling as the night air chills your room, nipples hardening under whatever threadbare shirt you’ve worn to bed tonight. The image of you he conjures in his mind’s eye is almost as good as the real thing—helpless and laid bare for him, unaware of the menace that lurks just outside.

Hisoka hums to himself and taps his finger on the window frame, pouting with disappointment; it’s no fun to simply climb in like a common burglar. No, he greatly prefers the challenge of closed doors and new locks, metal bars and a piece of wood shoved into the track of the sliding glass door in your living room to keep it from being pried open. But every barrier you erect to keep him out, to tell him that he’s only allowed in with your permission, on your terms, is simply something to tear down and destroy, a minor annoyance that he can easily overcome. It’s delightfully charming how you seem think you have any control in this arrangement, a precious little quirk of yours that he finds endearing.

He slices your screen open and enters your bedroom with a quiet elegance, one that he’s almost disappointed that you’re asleep for. You are adorably taken by the way he moves his body, after all, your eyes always fixed on how his muscles move under his skin, how his lithe frame seems to flow like water as he overtakes you. No matter, he’ll simply have to describe it to you in the morning, tell you over breakfast in great detail just how expertly he broke into your home since you’d made it so dreadfully easy.

A shivering breath leaves Hisoka’s lips as he nears your bed and sees for the first time the state you’re in—you’re stretched out over the sheets, the covers tossed to one side, dressed only in a t-shirt that’s twisted itself up over your body. One leg is bent, exposing a sliver of your cunt, just enough to make him lick his lips as the faint moonlight illuminates the wetness that glistens between your thighs.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were expecting me,” he murmurs under his breath as he approaches your sleeping body. He traces his nails down the curve of your hip, watching carefully as you twitch in your sleep. He waits and listens, attuned to your heartbeat; a breath hitches in your throat and you sigh into your pillow, shifting slightly. His fingers move deftly to the apex of your thighs, tracing soft lines up and down your slit as his other hand moves over the hardness that strains against his pants. Hisoka presses his middle and ring finger against your entrance, feeling how it pulses with just the slightest stimulation; you’re sensitive, your body just as eager for him as when you’re awake.

“Dreaming of me, sweetheart? You’re so wet already,” he groans, sliding his fingers in deeper, feeling you flutter around them. He could easily fuck you with his fingers and make you cum on his hand if he wanted, stand there in the darkness and take in the delicious way you’d softly move your hips against him in your slumber, stroke his cock to the sweet sounds of your little sighs and moans.

But Hisoka came here with intent—though your pleasure is alluring, his lustful desires were already full to the brim when he set out for your apartment, and now they’re overflowing. He carefully withdraws his hand from your dripping cunt and moves to the end of the bed; he quickly strips, the cool night air chilling his alabaster skin, the moonlight highlighting his slender body with its fine musculature in a way you’d surely appreciate. He pumps his leaking cock a few times while he watches you sleep for a moment longer, fucking into his fist as he observes his oblivious prey.

With a swift motion, he grabs you by the calves, sinking his nails into your flesh, and yanks you down to the end of the bed. It’s thrilling when you wake with a gasp and begin to panic, twisting underneath him as he slides a hand over your mouth and lays his body weight on you, pinning you to the mattress. It’s tempting to shush you, to purr in your ear that’s just him, that it’s okay, that he’s only here to use you—but he’d rather feel your poor little heart racing, your legs uselessly kicking at him, your sleep-weakened hands clawing at his arms for just a little longer.

Eventually, it seems you recognize him somehow—perhaps the feel of his frame on top of you, the sweet smell that seems to emanate from his skin, the familiar sound of his groans as you thrash about uselessly and his cock pulses against your thigh, leaving trails of sticky precum on your skin. He loosens his grip just enough to let you turn your head and stare up at him, your pupils like saucers, and you murmur his name questioningly through trembling breaths.

“Don’t mind me, dear,” he coos, running his tongue along the shell of your ear, “I’m just here to take what’s mine.”

Just as he suspected, your pretty little cunt is still dripping for him and he pushes himself inside you with ease, eliciting a particularly lewd moan from you, the sound still muffled by his hand. Hisoka fills you to the hilt and fucks into you mercilessly, pushing your hips and stomach against the bed with the bruising force of each thrust. He thobs thinking about how sore you’ll be tomorrow, how fun it will be to press his fingers into your flesh and feel you squirm at his touch, how he’ll grab your wrist when you try to smack his hand away and sink his teeth into your tender skin in retribution.

The way you whimper against his palm now that you’re settled, now that you know it’s no ordinary intruder violating you in the night but your intruder, is exquisite—so needy, so whiny, so desperate. He knocks against your cervix with every powerful thrust, sinking himself into you again and again just to hear your little cries of pain that slowly turn to whines of pleasure. He’s amused at how easy you can be to satisfy—a little pain to make you practically drip, a little tenderness with soft bites and kisses, and the throbbing length of him pulsing in your warmth.

“You surrendered so quickly, sweetheart,” Hisoka mocks, his words laced with condescension. “I’d almost think you were waiting for me come by and fuck you tonight.”

He grins as you shake your head in a half-hearted protest, a pathetic attempt to save what little dignity your situation affords you. And he could keep teasing you, keep needling at you for just how easily you folded for him—his cock aches just thinking about the way your cheeks would heat and the way you’d thrash underneath him in shame—but the tension that coils inside him, that deep, pervasive need that he feels down to the base of his spine, is too great to hold back any longer.

He fucks into you with a frenzied pace, guttural groans filling the air in the room as your warmth pulses around him again and again. He can still smell it on you, the fear and the dread that gripped you as he pulled you from your slumber—it’s an intoxicating scent, one that he would capture if he could, wear your terror like a fine cologne. He buries his face into your shoulder and huffs deeply, taking it in as he delves deeper into you with each rhythmic push, grinding his body into your with a desperate insistence.

“That’s it—that’s it—now take it all for me,” Hisoka moans into your shoulder, and he sinks his teeth into your skin as he spills himself into you. The way you cry out in pain as he bites down again and again is enthralling, and he groans into your tender skin with blissful agony as he shudders and convulses. He stays there on top of you, heaving panting breaths, his cock still buried inside you as his spend begins to leak out and drip down your thighs.

“Such a good toy for me,” he mutters as he kisses your neck, across your shoulders, down your spine as he finally pushes himself off you. You gasp when he finally releases his grip on your mouth.

“Hisoka—” you sputter, but he quickly shushes you and climbs up the bed, dragging your limp body with him like a ragdoll. He curls himself around you, licking the spots on your neck where he’d bitten you, soothing your irritated skin. Poor thing, you’d have to coat yourself in makeup to look presentable for work in the morning—assuming he even let you go in, of course.

You murmur his name again weakly, sounding defeated and still sleep-drunk, but with something else in your tone—neediness. Hisoka laughs softly when you grasp for his hand and drag it down between your thighs.

“Aw, did you want something, pretty?”

“Please…” The word is almost unintelligible, a whimper that he knows too well by now.

“Greedy little thing, aren’t you?” he teases, biting your earlobe gently. “I give you my cock and yet you still want more from me.”

Hisoka presses the pads of his index and middle fingers down onto your swollen clit and you sigh, sounding at once relieved and grateful; you are nothing if not easy to please. It doesn’t take long for you to reach your peak, not the way you grind against his hand so demandingly, sloppily rolling your hips as you force yourself to stay awake long enough to finish. You moan his name quietly, and he holds you against him tighter as you shudder and spasm, pressing your back to his chest to feel every tremor, every last little shiver that he causes.

He retracts his hand and holds it up, his fingertips glistening with the mix of your wetness and his spend. He licks his fingers, tasting the mix of your fluids, and suppresses a delighted groan; perhaps he’d have to take you again before morning, he muses as his cock twitches against your backside.

A breeze moves through the stillness of your bedroom, the moonlight filtering in through the sheer curtains that now dance in front of your window. His hand drifts over your warm, malleable body, and he kisses along your jaw, feeling your pulse begin to slow against his lips. You’re particularly lovely this way—exhausted from being used, body wilted and practically boneless, so soft and easy to mold to his desires. Your breathing begins to slow and you seem to melt into him as you lay there in the quiet; he starts to tease you, chiding you for not thanking him for your orgasm, when he hears a soft snore followed by a long, slow exhale.

“Poor thing, all worn out,” Hisoka whispers, nuzzling against your neck. He’ll have to wait and admonish you in the morning for leaving your window open at night—why, just anyone could break in that way.

[ohdarlingohsweetheart]

Obsessed Twins and a Female Sink in Copulation ~Which Do You Choose to Love?~ (執着双子とメス堕ち交尾〜どっちの愛、注いでほしい？) // support the artist (eng)

[ohdarlingohsweetheart]

[ohdarlingohsweetheart]

Exception

Dark!Geto Suguru x reader

5.8 wc

Synopsis: You never bothered with Suguru's crush on you, knowing it would fade. After meeting him again years later, you make the horrible discovery that his feelings for you have only festered.

(Warnings: yandere, dark content, murder of a side character, slight gore, violence, rape/noncon, vaginal fingering, piv sex, unsafe sex)

When you were in your first year of college, you got a part-time job at a nearby cafe. 

It was easy work. Make coffee. Bake some pastries. Attend to the customers. Nothing too unmanageable. It was an insignificant part of your life. 

Then, Gojo and Geto came along.

 

Insufferably annoying. Especially, the loud one. They always caused a havoc in the cafe, often to the point where the manager had to physically kick them out. It was a turbulent two weeks, until one day you promised them if they kept it down, you'd let them try a few of your experimental pastries. 

Really, it was your own damn fault. They started coming every day after that, mostly to bother you. The only reason management hadn't outright banned them was probably because Gojo made 50% of their entire revenue. 

You warmed up to them eventually. Your fake smiles turned into more amused ones because of their antics. Once or twice, they'd get a good laugh out of you. You've heard rumors of a private, religious highschool nearby. You always assumed they were a byproduct of that. 

Eventually, Gojo becomes Satoru. Geto becomes Suguru. Nice kids, if not a bit overzealous. Despite refusing to hang out with them after work, you had to admit, you grew a bit attached to them. You found yourself asking about their day, hiding sweets for the two of them, sometimes you'd even let them steal a croissant or two. 

You bet the reason they hung around you was because, to them, you were some cool college student. Secretly, you found it a little flattering. Some days, their friendship was the highlight of your shift. It's clear Satoru is always the instigator, always looking like he's about to bounce off the walls (you have told him to lay off the sugar), it's not like Suguru was any better. He tried to act like he was the more refined part of the friendship. He often fails, at least in your eyes. 

It becomes pretty apparent that Suguru had a crush on you. You're not sure when exactly you started to notice the bashful looks, the slight flush on his cheeks whenever you accidentally brush his hand, the fact that he visits far more often (even though Satoru has the sweet-tooth) but you can't unsee it now. It doesn't help that Satoru looks downright giddy whenever his friend talks to you, barely controlling his giggles in the background. His reaction and Suguru's irritation often start a few skirmishes right outside the cafe doors. You've told them multiple times to take their fights in the alley at least. They never listened. 

For his sake, you don't acknowledge it, already knowing what it is. A schoolyard crush. Harmless, it'll pass. Eventually, when you're a distant memory to them, Satoru will tease him about it and Suguru will give a playful elbow nudge. Much to your relief, Suguru doesn't pull you to the side and confess. He's refined, in that way, never giving too much until you have the evidence and clues yourself. 

It continued like that for months. And then, something changed. 

They stopped coming around as much. Daily visits turned weekly. Weekly turned to every so often. Their energy felt off too. Satoru seemed the same as always, if not a bit more mellowed out. It was Suguru you mainly worried for. Each time he returned, he looked worse and worse. Darker circles. Eyes filled with exhaustion. 

You pull him aside eventually, asking if anything is going on, asking if he's okay, asking if he wants to talk. As sincerely as you can, you tell him that you're here for him. He at least attempts to smile at that. When you press, he shakes his head. 

"It's nothing," you both know he's lying, "it's just....it's nice to see that there is one exception." 

A little while after that, they stop coming entirely. You notice, but you aren't able to focus on it. School gets harder, you're cutting back your work to focus on it. You don't even recognize Satoru at first when he walks in nearly a year later. 

He's different. So much taller. Despite being a few years younger than you...he doesn't feel like a kid anymore. An easygoing smile is pulled on his face when he sees you, giving a lazy wave. You return it, though a bit hesitant. He talks to you as though no time has passed at all, asking what you made for him this time. He talks fast. His voice is too laid back. Too casual. Like he's avoiding something. You think you know what. 

"Where's Suguru?" you ask when you glance behind Satoru for the third time, "I haven't seen him around lately." 

He freezes, like he's been dreading that question ever since he came in. Finally, he shrugs, making a noncommital hum. His sunglasses obscure his eyes but it isn't enough to hide how cold he suddenly turned. Satoru seems to realize that too. His answer is pulled by reluctance. 

"We don't talk anymore." He doesn't say anything more. You don't need him to.

When he pulls out his wallet, you tell him it's on the house. He looks at you then. His mouth opens, searching for the right words. He waits too long. His mask slips back into place. 

Gojo grins at you, painfully fake. 

"Take care of yourself, will ya?" 

You never see him again after that. You know it's your fault. 

You think about them every so often when you can, Suguru especially. He rests in the back of your mind like an old piece of furniture you can't bring yourself to throw out. Suguru sometimes haunts your dreams with his darkened eyes and the pure brokenness on his face. For some reason, you think you failed him somehow. You felt like you could have done more. Maybe, if you'd tried harder to reach out, things would have been different. Two boys wouldn't be utterly heartbroken. 

Years pass by. You quit working at the cafe. You graduate college. You move cities. You get a job. Eventually, you settle into a nice apartment. You forget all about your days in that quaint little restaurant, your attention hogged by a couple of annoying high schoolers. You don't think about Satoru for years. You don't think about Suguru for years. 

Until one day, when he calls your name in the street. 

He was bigger now, towering over you with broad shoulders. His hair was longer, darker too, less of a green, more black. He's ditched his school uniform, trading it for a more casual outfit. It's his face that makes you hesitate before you use your voice, that same smile, physically at least. He looks the same, but then he doesn't. 

"...Suguru?" It's a question because you're still not sure. 

He smiles wider. 

"Long time, huh?" 

Somehow, your reunion culminates in a restaurant. You still feel out of it, somehow, like you're watching yourself in an out-of-body experience. Between the food and him, you're not sure if you can even believe it. 

He tells you he heads a temple now. A pious man. You shouldn't be surprised, considering his education, but you never knew he was so invested in religion. The two of you converse about other meaningless things. The conversation becomes less stilted. More sincere. You learned your lesson from last time. You don't bring up Satoru unless he does. 

Much to your disappointment, he doesn't. 

Compared to yours, his life is so crazy. Not just with the temple. Suguru tells you he's a father now too. Adopted two little girls. He's barely 22. You can barely hold your disbelief, shaking your head as you take another sip of your coffee. 

"In any case," you say when the conversation draws to a lull, "I'm just really glad you're happy, Suguru. You deserve it." 

When Suguru gives you a questioning look, you continue. 

"The last time we saw each other, you looked miserable." 

 His eyes widen in realization before a laugh bubbles out of his throat. Deep, rich like chocolate. 

"Back then, I was going through a lot." He sighs. "I was figuring out what I wanted. It...it was a tough time for me." 

You nod along, hoping you aren't forcing him to pry. However, the Suguru you're faced with now doesn't seem like that type of person anymore. He won't give if you press. He talks on his own terms. You never once thought of him as a pushover, but he's less open now. Perhaps it's because he's no longer a child. 

Suguru smiles then, a little more sincere than his first. 

"You know...I've always wanted to thank you." 

You tilt your head. "What for?" 

He plays with his empty cup like he's searching for the answer himself. "You gave me hope when no one else did. Everyone was so quick to tell me if I was wrong or right."

He leans back on his chair, eyes drifting towards the ceiling, "Other humans, they're always so enraptured by their own lives. You were the only person who reached out. At least, who cared enough to." 

The guilt from years ago slipped back into your throat. So he had been suffering. You should have done more. He was just a kid. They both had been. You could have done something. Maybe you could have saved a little more.

His hand finds yours on the table. They're rough, calloused. You can feel the scars. He squeezes your fingers. 

"Thank you," he murmurs, "For being an exception." 

You squeeze back. 

It's a tumultuous friendship, at first. It's much like a burn. Sensitive, it hurts at first. The wound is too fresh. Eventually, dead skin and memories fade away. You find yourself texting him. Once a week. Maybe a little more, if you get brave enough. 

Once, he sends you a picture of a white cat lounging in a sunbeam.

looks like Satoru, he types. 

(You stare at the caption for a long longer than necessary.)

It does, you send back.

You visit his temple once. He invited you, actually. A free tour, he had joked. It was beautiful. A large expansive garden filled with all types of flowers. The courtyard felt like it stretched for miles. That was just the outskirts of the temple. The building was something else entirely. A large ceiling. Expansive walls. White pillars that keep going higher and higher and higher. 

You notice his followers are everywhere. Most carry the same smile on their face. Bright, happy, cheery, but too strained. Like it's a job for them. It feels weird to say, but he fits nicely here. You think that because this wasn't the place you thought Suguru would end up. He dons the traditional clothing perfectly. Like they were made for him. They probably were, considering how high his reputation was. 

If he hadn't had the same face, the same hair color. You wouldn't have recognized him at all. He's managed to replace every single thing in his life with something new. It doesn't go unnoticed by you that you're the only thing he keeps from the past. A momento of sorts. You're a keepsake, for him. You don't mind the symbolism. You've always been easily flattered. 

You just failed to realize that not all of his feelings had changed. 

It was in front of your house. After, yet another visit to the temple (much at Suguru's insistence), he'd offered to walk you home. You would have declined if it wasn't so dark out. In the end, you accept his offer. 

"The girls have come to like you," Suguru says after a lull of pleasant silence. When you glance at him, you find his eyes on you. 

"Have they?" you prod. 

In all honestly, you didn't think they liked you at all at first. You don't have that much experience with young children, but you found it odd how unnerved Nanako and Mimiko seemed to get around you, practically hiding behind their father's figure, peeking out with untrusting eyes. Suguru had to gently coax them out with soft words, insisting that you were a close friend of his, you were 'different'. 

"Yes, they talk about you all the time," he continues, rolling his eyes in affection, "Mimiko especially gets very animated." 

Your heart skips a beat at his answer. You never felt one way or the other about children, but it felt nice when two little girls felt so highly about you. Those two especially. 

"It must be from all the sweets I bribed them with," you say, jokingly, "Please tell me I didn't cause them any stomach aches." 

He laughs, light and pretty. 

"It's not that," he responds, "it's because of you, mostly. You're different from the others."

You smile, but it's half-hearted, an attempt more than anything. It takes you a while for you to work up for the question. For some reason, you feel a bit nervous, like you're stepping on something you shouldn't be. 

"Different," you start, "you keep saying that. What does that mean? What am I different from?" 

He stops, just at the entrance of your flat. Suguru's fingers drum on his pants. You stare at him. He stares right back. 

"You are different, in so many different ways," he says, though it feels as though he's speaking to himself, rather than you. 

He takes a step forward. Tiny, he barely even moved. And yet, the distance between the two of you has vanished completely. 

"You've always been. Different from everyone else. The only one." You can't tell if he cut himself off, or if there was truly nothing else to say. 

It was barely a kiss. His lips brushed against yours, barely touching. Soft, like he cherished you the most out of all his possessions. The gentleness of it all is enough for you to freeze. 

Then his hand curls around your waist, and you jolt back into your body. 

You splay your hands on his chest, pushing him away until you have enough momentum to step back. His loose hold on you falls away. You can't look at him, even when you can feel his stare burn into you. 

"Suguru," you say, because you're mind is still running to catch up to your heart, "I-we-" 

Your name being called stops your babbling. You don't think he saw, god you hoped he hadn't. When you look over, he's smiling, so you don't think he did. He was never one to hide his feelings. Still, you step away from Suguru, ignoring how stiff the man had become. 

"Hey," you say, mostly out of relief because you couldn't deal with this anymore. When he wraps you into a hug and a chaste kiss, you wordlessly accept. Suguru's gaze on your back only gets stronger. 

"Who's this?" he asks, gesturing at Suguru. Your smile falters as you glance at Suguru. His face was blank. He wasn't even smiling anymore as he continued to stare at your man. 

"A friend," you say before Suguru can make this already worse, "and he was just leaving." 

"Oh," he says, before smiling down at you. Delightfully oblivious. 

"We'll talk later, okay Suguru?" You send Suguru a hurried smile before dragging him into your shared flat. 

You lock the door behind you. He says something just then, you laugh, trying so hard not to sense Suguru's presence through the door. You don't think he leaves. Not for a good long while. 

You don't speak to Suguru, after that. 

You wince whenever you see his name through your contact list now, as though even seeing a remnant of him is painful. You don't go to the temple anymore. Your communication with the girls turns nonexistent. 

Suguru hasn't said anything to you either. The line has grown dead both ways. 

You feel guilty, even though you know it wasn't your fault, you still can't help but wonder if you could have done something different. Did you do something that made him think you were interested? You probably had, knowing how unaware you could be, sometimes. You couldn't help but feel ecstatic when the two of you reconnected again. You'd been so excited for Suguru, happy for him because he'd finally found his way. You didn't know he still liked you after all these years. It was a schoolyard crush, at least, it was supposed to be.

Looking back, you didn't think you'd even told Suguru that you were already seeing someone. One blunder after a blunder. 

It must have been embarrassing for him, you can't help but think. Even when he was younger, Suguru had always held onto his pride dearly. You don't know if your friendship could ever be the same after this, but you'd like to extend the olive branch. If he'd take it. 

You tell your boyfriend about the incident eventually. You know it's not your fault, but you still feel like it is. He takes it well, once you explain, looking at you sweetly. 

"I could tell something was going on between you and him," he says, "but thanks for telling me." 

"You aren't mad?" you ask, half-afraid of the answer. 

"At you? Course not. Him, however"- he made a swing motion with his fist "-he does something like that again and I'll punch his lights out." 

You laugh, knowing it's a joke, giving him a chaste kiss on the cheek. He beams. 

It takes a week of radio silence to forget about the mishap. You're humming a song you've forgotten the lyrics to when you arrive at your apartment. Your boyfriend said that he was coming home early tonight. You'd planned something quiet for the evening. A movie, cheap drinks. 

"Welcome home." Suguru grins. You freeze. 

He sits on the couch, splayed out like he belonged there. He's not wearing his priest garment, now garbed with a simple shirt and jeans. It takes a minute for you to figure out what you're looking at. Slowly, you close the door behind you. 

"Hey," you say, hoping your tone doesn't indicate just off-put by this encounter you are.

Suguru doesn't seem to mind your reluctance. 

"He let me in." Suguru points to somewhere behind you. Oh, your boyfriend is probably in the bathroom. "He was such a nice man. You were very lucky." 

"Thank you," you find yourself saying, "I am." 

His smile grows bigger, and you wonder if there's a joke you aren't let in on. Like he's saying something that's going right above your head. 

When you take a glance behind you, your partner is nowhere to be seen. It makes you wonder if you should say something to Suguru right now. Mend the bridge that's shattered between you. Currently, he seemed to be in a good mood. 

"Suguru," you start, taking a tiny step forward. You twiddle with your fingers. 

"Listen, I'm really sorry for how things went the last time we met. I just-" He hushes you, putting a finger to his lips. 

"You shouldn't air out your affairs in front of him like that," he tells you, "you might hurt his feelings." 

What? You look behind you again. Nothing. 

Suguru laughs. It sounds off. Wordlessly, he points behind you again but angles his finger a tiny bit higher. You follow his direction. 

Immediately, you wish you hadn't. 

He's in pieces, scattered all over the ceiling. A hand is above the door, a leg is above the kitchen. It's like his appendages were chopped before being glued onto the ceiling. There's no blood, just body parts. 

The worst part was that he was still alive. His head was still attached to his torso, the only part of him that was still intact. His mouth was open, his eyes were wide, and it took you a second that he was trying to tell you something. Repeating a word over and over. 

Run. 

Your hand covers your mouth as you continue to stare up at him. What was left of him. You think your knees are threatening to give before Suguru's holding you up. You can feel him lead you towards the couch, sitting you down in the plush mattress. He curls an arm around you, letting out a sigh.

"I meant what I said." Suguru adjusts your hair. "He was such a nice man, for a monkey anyway."

It doesn't occur to you that Suguru had done this until he speaks. You'd known Suguru said he performed exorcisms in his temple. You didn't-you couldn't-

"You?" you can barely push the wavering words out, "you-how-Suguru-" 

He hushes you, drawing you closer to his body. You're completely dwarfed by him as he rests his head on your neck, breathing in your scent. You are barely coherent, sucking in air as your voice dissolves into sobs. 

"I would have liked it if things hadn't turned out this way," he sighs, "but I don't believe it would have turned out any differently." 

His tone is almost pitying. 

"You may be the exception, but you are still one of them. Unaware of the true hierarchy." Suguru hums. 

"That's alright. It wasn't your fault. You were simply born this way," he continues, "I don't mind teaching you." 

You wiggle, trying your hardest to get out of his grip. Suguru only clicks his tongue. A harsh grip on your waist is enough to still you. You can't understand what's going on, maybe you never will, but you know one thing. You let a monster back into your life. Geto Suguru was not the same person you knew when you were younger. 

Or perhaps, he was always this way. He was just better at hiding it, back then. 

"I'm sorry," you finally let out, "Suguru, I'm-I'm so so sorry. I'll do whatever-whatever you want. Anything just please please please-" 

"I'm afraid there's nothing I can do for him," Suguru doesn't sound too apologetic, "though, I could put him out of his pain. Would you like that?" 

You didn't need him to elaborate. Suguru would kill him. Or perhaps he was already dead. His moving eyes, his twitching lips, were all just muscle memory. The last of his brain synapses. There was no science, no magic, that could bring him back from this. 

And maybe, that tiny selfish part of you wanted to stop seeing his mangled body. 

You nod and you can feel Suguru's grin. He snaps his fingers. The thing disappears, vanishes into mist. 

"All gone!" Suguru declares. "There. Isn't that better?" 

You wince when he touches your face, brushing away the tears. You're too scared to do anything more. You don't fight when he kisses your neck. You don't fight when he kisses your jaw. You don't fight when he kisses your lips. 

It's with the same gentleness as the last time he'd kissed you, right outside of your apartment. Soft, warm, loving. 

You start sobbing then. Ugly, heaving, heartbroken. He takes it in stride, humming as he pushes your body down until your back is pressed on the couch. His lips brush your damp cheek. 

"There's no need to be afraid." Through your tears, you can see him smiling down at you. "The worst has passed. I'll take care of you from now on." 

The worst part about all of this is how honest he sounds. Like he truly believes he's doing this for your good. It makes you wonder who the delusional one is. Him or you. 

He's tuts in sympathy as you lay there, shivering underneath him.

"You must be so confused, poor thing." He tilts his head, the back of his fingers stroking your cheeks. "I should explain, shouldn't I? Unfortunately, I'm more interested in other things right now."

You must look horrible, but Suguru doesn't seem to mind, bending down, melding your lips with his. He sighs, like he'd waited eons for this. You stiffen when you feel his hands play with the band of your skirt. As if he can feel your beginnings of struggle, he pulls back, staring you down. Brown, almost black, eyes peer down at you. There's a hint of a warning curling on his lip. 

You still immediately. If he could do that, what could he do to you?

"None of that," he chides, and yet he's so painfully gentle about it, "be good." 

What was he? How did he do this? How could he? You want to ask them all but you can only get one out when you lift your head, getting your voice to work. 

"Why?" 

You don't know what you're asking. He clearly does. Another soft smile. You wish you could tear it off his face. 

"You were always the exception, even back then," He says quietly into the stale air of the apartment. His eyes drift and you wonder if he's remembering the you all those years ago, secretly passing pastries to him and Satoru, giggling at jokes only a highschooler could make. "The only one of the humans who didn't utterly disgust me." 

Fingers reach for the hem of your skirt, pushing it up your bare legs. 

"And it's natural, isn't it? To protect the exceptions, the rarities of the world," he says, "To keep them away from the impure." 

You start crying again. He patiently hushes you, kissing away your tears. This time, you don't bother putting up a fight. You just squeeze your eyes closed, flinching when he reaches to your inner thighs, feeling the cotton of your panties. His breath hitches. So does yours. 

He bypasses the cloth with two dexterous fingers. When he touches the skin, you flinch, trying to squeeze your thighs closed. It doesn't help. Suguru leans forward, you can feel his breath on your cheek as you shiver underneath him. He finds your clit, teasing it with a calloused thumb. You think you're mouthing it, even when you can't bring yourself to say it. Don't touch me don't touch me don't touch me. 

He doesn't listen. You don't know if he heard it or not. It didn't matter, either way. It wasn’t like he was planning to stop.

Despite how much you don’t want this, your body doesn’t listen. His touch is gentle, soothing on your pussy despite the horrors you’ve seen him do. It doesn’t take long for your cunt to adjust, dripping.

There’s a satisfied sigh above you and you know Suguru had felt it too.

One finger pushes into you. You gasp, curling your back, unprepared but Suguru’s giving a pleasant hum, easing you into it. Despite how humiliating this entire situation is, your one reprieve is being able to bury your head into his neck, keeping yourself there as he continues to have his way with your body. You can feel him kiss the crown of your head, an action that completely juxtapositions another finger entering your wet hole.

He’s gentle, but not slow. He fingerfucks you with earnestness, curling his fingers when your walls tighten around him. Your crying is interrupted by the reluctant moans and gasps every time he presses deeper into you, finding a spot that has you seeing stars behind your eyelids. You bit your lip, keeping the noises inward. He tuts at that.

“Don’t be shy,” he coos in your ear, “it’s okay to enjoy it. I want you to.”

As if to highlight his words, he gives another particularly intense push, you wince when you can hear the wet squelch of his fingers.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Suguru asks, “I could always be this nice with you.” You let out a squeak when his thumb presses against your clit, unable to keep it in. Suguru gives a breathy laugh.

His other hand starts to explore, reaching up to your button-up, flicking them off with a single-experienced hand. The bra you wore is barely seductive, but Suguru’s tracing the ends of it anyway, touching the fabric just by your skin before pushing the undergarment down.

Whether it’s from the air or his fingers fucking your pussy, your tits are already sensitive. You let out a breathy whine when Suguru grips on of them too hard, squeezing the fat in his large hands.

“So sweet for me.” You can hear the smile on his lips.

Everything becomes too much, and before you can think, your hand is shooting down, grabbing onto his wrist, squeezing as hard as you can, your nails digging into his skin. Your other is pushing against his shoulder. He barely seemed to even notice, holding you down with his weight, thrusting in his fingers all the way to the knuckle.

“Suguru I-” It’s supposed to be another plea for him to stop, but your weak voice calling out his name only seems to excite him further. His thumb dances on your swollen clit, his fingers never relenting until he’s pushing you higher and higher until you fall.

White hot electric pleasure snaps within you, forcing your body to jolt, as you curl up from the sofa. You think he’s saying something, words of comfort as though he could be any crueler, but you’re not listening. You came so hard you almost forget where you are, who you’re with. You can feel Suguru watching until you fall against the cushion again, utterly spent. Your grip slackens against his wrist, before falling away completely.

“See? Didn’t I say I’ll take care of you?” You don't even have the energy to glare at him.

He’s giving another laugh, kissing your cheek before he’s leaning back. His fingers slip out of you, and then there’s a sucking sound. You can’t help it, blinking open your eyes. Suguru stares back at you, eyes half-mast, a pink tongue flicking out to lick at his fingers before he puts them in his mouth completely, swallowing down the evidence of your orgasm. A lewd moan escapes him, muffled. You once again wished you hadn’t looked.

You’re already expecting it, but you still flinch when you hear the zipper loud and clear. He moves his jeans low enough to pull out his cock. He’s already hard, a bead of precum right at the tip as he gives a few cursory pumps. He’s big, you blearily realize. Despite the mind-numbing orgasm he’d just given you, you doubt it’d be enough to even take him.

“It won’t fit,” you find yourself whispering.

Suguru just hums in acknowledgement, giving you a knowing look as he finishes tugging off your panties. The fabric slides off your shaking leg before dropping onto the carpeted floor.

It’s too late for a fight, but you’re rising anyway, pressing your hands against the cushions, trying to create some space. Suguru is quick to shut it down again, leaning back into you as he palms himself some more.

“You’ll be alright,” he assures but it doesn’t help the panic the fear in your soul, “I cherish you too much to break you.”

With little effort, he spreads your thighs. His cock rubs against you once, twice, before entering your throbbing pussy.

Already it’s too much. He’s thick, stretching out your walls, threatening to rip you in half. You close your eyes again, squeezing them shut as the pain starts to edge a little too close to bloody. Helpless, your hand finds his shoulder, not pushing but digging your nails into his shirt. He purrs when you grip him tighter, moving until he’s seated fully into you.

He stays like that, keeping himself there as your walls squeeze him tighter. It’s almost a relief that it ended, but now, he’s taken everything.

“Look at me.”

His voice is rough, almost a rasp, an order. You find yourself obeying. Through your tears, you blink up at him, finding his gaze.

He stares down at you, a look of satisfaction in his eyes and you don’t think you are yours anymore.

He pulls back, your cunt tries to suck him back in, but he drags his cock out anyway until only his head is barely inside.

“Perfect,” Suguru murmurs as though it’s a secret not even you should hear, “absolutely perfect.”

You cry out when he pushes back in. It’s a gentle pace, slow and steady like he’s easing you into it. He’s being kind, you finally realize, a thought that makes your skin crawl. It’s so much worse than if he had been nasty. Harsh and biting with thrusts that would make your body sore and weak afterwards. If he was abusive, not caring about you, just his own pleasure. You wish Suguru was being mean, being cruel. At least then, you wouldn’t like it.

Despite the unexpected size, your body is adjusting. Pain ripples into reluctant pleasure, numbing your mind as his hips meet yours. It gets even worse when Suguru leans down, biting and sucking at your tits, enough for there to leave a mark. Something that will bruise and remind you of what he did.

“You don’t know how long I wanted this,” he’s saying somewhere above you but your head is swimming and you can’t focus where you want to, “how long I’ve wanted you like this.”

Suguru sits up again, grabbing one of your legs, hiking your hips up so his cock can go that much deeper inside of you. You babble something that you yourself can’t decipher. Suguru’s lips curl into another painfully soft smile.

“Ever since highschool,” he’s confessing like he’s a sinner and you’re his God but you know that isn’t true because what sort of god would be humiliated like this? “Remember that apron you wore?”

His hand reaches over, spreading over your pussy, stretching the fatty part of your cunt so he can have a better view of him disappearing inside of you.

“I always wondered what you’d look like wearing nothing but that on, spread out on the counter for me.”

He flicks your clit, and for the second time that day, you can feel yourself crashing. As though he can sense it, his thrusts shorten, grinding against your pussy and there’s a hand catching your chin, forcing you to look.

Suguru’s smile is gone, replaced by a snarl that promises to eat you alive. His eyes are blown wide, and he’s gritting his teeth, barely holding control by a hair.

“Come for me.”

You’re too far gone to do anything but listen.

You stutter in his grasp, arching your back, cumming with a breathy whine. It’s like a tide, pushing you out into sea, refusing to take you in. Unconsciously, the leg he holds tightens around his waist as you pulse around his cock.

He follows after, barely holding himself together, not when your cunt is milking him for all its’ worth. There’s a few particularly harsh thrusts before something warm and sticky fills your battered pussy before he's falling into you, pressing your body against the soft cushions.

You lay there, panting with him on top of you. Slowly, you come back to yourself, feeling your arms your legs. Your brain resets, and you’re suddenly remembering that you have a murderer’s cock inside of you.

Suguru’s face is buried in your neck. He gives a shaky kiss to your jaw; another on the corner of your lips. You can only stare at the ceiling, where the remnants of a body used to be.

"You know, the girls have always wanted a mother," Suguru's saying into your skin.

"I'm sure they will be very pleased with my choice."

[ohdarlingohsweetheart]

[ohdarlingohsweetheart]

drop links with yandere noncon hentai pls 😭

Everything written by the artist umekoppe is always yandere noncon smut I would say this artist is probably responsible for most of the yandere hentai manga you see screencapped across the internet lmao I know at least here on tumblr most of the hentai panels you see with yandere MLs are usually umekoppe haha. They just dropped a new one a couple days ago look at my boy kohaku :3

Here’s some:

If you wish to purchase directly and not read pirated you can do so here. You will need the titles of what you wish to purchase since they categorize by circle not by artist.

Pirated:

[ohdarlingohsweetheart]

The Kid at the Back (Visual Novel)

Created by:𝖋𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖘𝖎𝖆 | TealCat

Genre: Thriller/Romance

The Kid at the Back is very cool looking and technically well done. I love all the character designs made in this one and Sol himself is pretty interesting at least that's what it sets itself up to be. All routes lead to the same ending though which is r18 considering that we basically see him jacking off to the main character's voice.

The story starts out with Darling Quinn finishing class. One of their classmates, Brittney tries to get them to join them for lunch together while the class representative, Crowe Ichabod comes in to defend Darling from her. Darling can then choose to go with Brittney to the cafeteria, go to the library or go to the rooftop.

Choosing to go to the cafeteria with Britney will lead to meeting a couple of other characters: Jess, a shy girl who follows Britney around, Deryl the friendly jock and Geo, the quiet cool kid. If the player has their own lunch, they will sit down and talk to Geo and Deryl for a bit as they have their playful banter while going with Britney will have a conversation with Crowe. In the end though, Britney's outfit is ruined by another girl who seems to have beef with her, before the entire cafeteria gets thrown into a food fight. In the end, Darling gets hit in the head with one of the trays causing them to pass out and end up in the infirmary. Crowe stays for a bit after Darling wakes up but ultimately leaves for classes. Darling ends up seeing another student who seemingly has had his hand cut and he gets bandaged up before Darling ultimately goes back to art class.

Choosing to go to the roof will lead to Darling going to the roof to eat lunch, only to end up accidentally eavesdropping on someone during a call. The boy, Hyugo, asks Darling for a favor to take his place as he needs to ditch his partner, Sol, in his next class to do something.

Choosing to go to the library will lead to them going there to read, only to find someone in their seat. There are a couple of ways this can go depending on choice. The one with the least interaction is sitting next to him then going to class afterwards to see him in the back. Sitting in another seat will lead to Darling seeing a commotion in the back where the guy is getting beat up. Here, they can either step in or chicken out. Chickening out will lead them feeling guilty when the two meet up in class, but helping them out will prevent him from getting bandaged later. Talking to him directly leads to the most interaction with him, with Sol getting more snarky with the player, and asking what they will give him in return. The best response is to just demand him to give them their seat back, to which he refuses and Darling ends up sitting on them, causing them to blush and start talking about the book he's reading, Edgar Allan Poe and well as what books that Darling has been reading before the two head to class. Choosing to do something intimate will lead to Darling asking if he wants a hug to which he makes a confused response and Darling will end up sitting next to him after a bit of awkwardness. They can also offer to buy him a drink where they can choose (the latte will have the best response out of him) before they head to class.

Darling will end up spotting Sol in the back seat (as the name implies) though will have different reactions depending on their interaction with Sol, to feeling embarrassed that they left him to get bullied, to surprised if the two met in the library etc. The professor will ask everyone to pair up and Darling is left to partner up with Sol. The two will introduce themselves to each other, before deciding who will be drawn first. Sol will have different interactions based off whether Darling declares they're good at drawing to bad at drawing as well as which route they took (and how much affection he has towards them.) So this can vary from him getting embarrassed that Darling is trying to draw him from a 3/4ths angle to, to him brushing hair away from Darling's face that gets them flustered, to talking about Hyugo and others. It all really depends on previous interactions. At the end, while Darling is leaving, Sol will ask for their number as a way to keep in touch with them for the project. Upon leaving, they'll also see a poster for the Hallow's Ball. Upon returning to the dorm and eating, Darling will talk to their other friends, Geo, Deryl, Brittney, Jess and Krowe about the ball. They will then text Sol about the ball, who seems hesitant, but ultimately agrees to go knowing Darling is going. The last scene is Sol masturbating to Darling's messages, implying he's done it before and that he's happy that they finally were able to talk.

So first thing I have to say off the bat is I really like the designs of all the characters. They all have their own charm and are unique, which I can always appreciate. I also like that Brittney isn't really like the mean girl she's depicted as she is considering she pretty much just asks Darling to come eat with them and basically only really fights when she gets attacked first. Kind of a minor thing, but I do like it. Small animation in the main menu is nice as well. One of the things I think is cool is that there are slightly different reactions to how you meet Sol when the two of you draw each other, which can lead to different CGs and dialogue, which is a subtle but nice way to give bits of information about them and more interaction with him without having to write out a bunch of scenes.

Sol as a yandere, well there's currently not a ton considering it's a demo, however, we still do get a semi good idea on what he does know. For one, we know that Sol has been stalking Darling for a while, given his comments at the end, and that he has been listening to their voice for a bit. I do like seeing his more flustered reactions in some cases, like when Darling sits on his lap or when they're drawing him, because flustered yanderes are the best. It's likely that he probably got a favor for Hyugo on his route, considering it's very coincidental, and it would make sense that he would manipulate the situation so that he would end up hanging out with Darling. Sol it seems has been dealt a hard hand in life, considering he always gets bullied or otherwise hurt by others. Still, this could also in itself be a manipulation tactic in terms of getting Darling to care about him, which would make him technically a Damsel yandere, something I would be very happy to see, since that's something that I would love to see more in yandere content in general. But yeah, other than that he seems like emo (gothic? punk? I don't know styles), and a bit awkward.

Overall, he seems very cute and the game itself is very well made. I hope we get to see more of it in the future because it does seem like something that does have a lot of potential in what kind of yandere can come later on.

[ohdarlingohsweetheart]

can u recommend any good yandere porn games? 👉👈

Would you be disappointed in me if I said… most of the porn games I play are male-vision porn games and imagine myself as the innocent protagonist being gangbang and noncon? >_< Sorry I'm so hardcore sometimes…

I looked through the games and found the following:

14 days with you

"After moving back to Corland Bay, things have started to become more... unsettling. Your laundry always seems to go missing, creepy footsteps echo down your hallway at night, and to top it all off, your neighbour swears that she saw someone leave your apartment late last night. But hey… at least the pink-haired stranger you met at work is there to keep you safe."

"14 Days With You" is an 18+ romance/horror visual novel centred around Ren; a mysterious individual who seems more than obsessed with you — and is willing to do anything he can to have you.

Artificial Academy 2

I played this a long time ago, and I remember that player could create a male or female character as a yandere! And the character you controlled could fall in love with those characters, but the campus life was relatively monotonous and boring.

Degrees of Lewdity

Degrees of Lewdity is an erotic game. You play an 18-year-old boy or girl in a town full of people with lewd intentions. Go to school and find honest work, turn to a life of crime, or sell your body in more carnal ways. The game has strong sexual themes, and lots of sex in general. You can choose the gender of the people who'll be attracted to you, and fetishes such as tentacles can be toggled off in settings.

Super famous game!! Lots of free choices and kinky encounters, just be aware that even passersby on the street will want to force the player… There is a yandere character in Love Interests, called Kylar, but I think Eden is actually a yandere too.

[ohdarlingohsweetheart]

TW: NSFW, noncon/dubcon

fem reader

Thinking about massive beefcakes again...

Big, brawny warriors who're carved with both muscles and battle scars – who still have some blood on their hands they couldn't bother washing off before claiming their pretty little war prize.

Oh, but he's so gentle with you. No threats on his lips, just a smile as he lets his large hands do all the talking – that, and the bloody axe he left leaning against the wall of your humble hut. So big, you wouldn't even be able to carry it if you used both hands.

And speaking about needing to use both hands...

You straddle his lap while working his massive cock – trembling as you wrap your fingers around the base, one hand stacked on top of the other, fingertips curling around his shaft – unable to reach around it while rubbing over fat veins that pulse beneath your soft touch.

He coos at you – tells you you’re doing so, so good for him, how he’s going to reward you real soon – how he won't hurt you so long as you do what he wants.

Oh, and you're so scared – so very scared of those large scathed paws holding you steady at the hips as he rubs his thick manhood against your stomach – throbbing between your ribs – a good measurement for how far inside he would try to push. 

There’s just no way you can possibly cram all of that inside you, is there?

You hadn't even noticed you were crying. Fat tears slip from brimming in your eyes, sliding down your cheeks and splattering on the hair of his broad chest. 

He told you to breathe, and you realized you’d been holding it in. He told you to relax – but tears only kept falling when his hand reached under to cup your scared little sex – his calloused fingers a strange type of friction on the lips of your pussy, ticklish in a sense, sending energy splurging through your core. 

Oh, but ain't you just the sweetest little thing. “You’re so wet, baby~” He hummed, voice thick with heat as his finger slid playfully through the slick pooling from your slit.

You whimpered at his teasing, and he hushed you – cooing at you while his fat fingers started prepping your tight little hole for him with a thumb rubbing over your clit – still nothing harsh – just grazing the slit, letting your body know to prepare itself for him.

You almost wished he would just push you down, tower over you, and do it all swiftly – because you weren't sure just how much of this your poor heart could take. You heard its pitter-pattering in your head, felt it drum in your fingertips, in your toes, thumping where his hands were taunting your tender flesh – petting the silk as it wept for more.

You felt something curl – coil – wind like an adder in your gut along with butterflies. Soon, glossing his entire hand with arousal. 

You heard the chuckle as he filled you up with one of his digits – long and thick with muscle, bumpy at the knuckles as it eased inside you – swirling around your velvet walls, all wet and fluttering for him – then followed by another – still with his thumb drawing sweet circles into your swollen clit, making you clench around the two fingers tightly with an ever-so-sweet moan spilling from your lips.

He groaned at the sensitivity – the stimuli and response at his fingertips – how impressionable you were for him. So sweet and pliant – knowing you were but a sheep caught on wolf claws.

His eyes were heavy-lidded, a sloppy grin showing teeth as his lips brushed up your collar with wet praise – his tongue hot as he licked up your throat with warm breath ever so very intimately – puffing like a hound as he bit your earlobe playfully, letting you know with thick rust, “I think you’re ready to take me.”

Oh, how he loved the way you tensed – knowing he had you completely in his palm – hooked right on his fingers – and soon on his cock.

BNHA – Bakugou, Deku, Kirishima, Enji, AFO, All Might, Mirio

JJK – Sukuna, Toji, Kenjaku

DS – Doma

HxH – Uvogin

[ohdarlingohsweetheart]

TW: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, violence/abuse, threat of bodily harm

gn reader

Thinking about poly yanderes again…

They’re both so patronizing – suffocatingly so. 

But where one is a brute, the other is sweet – or sweeter than the former, in any case...

He has a certain calm about him – gentle with you – considerate when showing his affection, and patient with you when he’s intimate. He doesn’t growl at you to shut up and lie still the way the other one does – instead, he asks you if you can be good for him – if you can let him love you – lipping at your throat without the touch of teeth as he all but begs for your consent.

The brute doesn't bother with such foreplay...

Your will doesn’t seem to interest him in any other aspect than ripping it from you and strangling it in his fist with a big grin, laughing while watching those pitiful tears start slipping down your cheeks.

He'll just shrug off the kinder one when he chides, telling him to stop being so rough with you. He just squeezes you a little tighter, sucks your neck a little harder, and kneads his cock a little deeper – saying that he can do whatever he wants with that which belongs to him.

When you struggle against him, he’s not shy of punishing you accordingly – in fact, he jumps at the opportunity – bending you over his lap with his fist riddled in your hair – landing strike after strike until you’re screaming in surrender, all cute pleas for his mercy, words he’s told you to say. 

He likes fucking you like that – when you’re a broken mess who only clings to him for comfort, crying into his neck while he pumps you full of cock and cum.

The kinder one scolds him afterward. Tells him he’s a fiend while petting your head and hair, carrying you away from the scene and into the bathroom. He draws you a tub of bubbles and holds a glass of water to your lips. But for all his niceties – he still gets in the hot water with you – cock in your sore hole while he washes your hair.

Still, he’s more reasonable.

When he’s tying your wrists to the bedpost like every night of you sleeping stuck in between them, you ask him if it’s really necessary – promising him you’re not going to run away – telling him that you’re going to stay right there, peacefully asleep.

The brute says that it isn’t something that’s up for discussion, that if you push your luck, he’s gonna tie every inch of you up like a floppy fish caught in a net ready to be gutted. But you don’t heed the warning – looking to your kinder warden with puppy eyes and a pout on your lips, saying please, it hurts your wrists – again, promising him you’ll be good and stay sound asleep between them the entire night.

You just needed to get to the door. 

You just needed to get to the door – through the door – out into the street, screaming while at it, and surely someone, anyone, would come to your rescue. 

Why wouldn't your feet move quicker? Why weren’t you faster? Why were you clumsier now? Tripping over rugs, missing steps when scrambling down the stairs, slipping when turning corners – trying to navigate the house when you’d barely ever seen anything but the bedroom.

You just needed to get to the door – but you could hear one of them coming after you – just behind you – big monstrous thundering steps shaking you to the core, strangling your heart, shattering your bones – and it’s getting hard to breathe, hard to see, hard to feel anything other than the numbing fear and the awful way it cripples you – throwing your mind into a tailspin while choking your lungs free of all air, clawing up your throat into a scream. 

You just needed to get to the fucking door –

You hadn't known you could make a sound like that – like something out of a horror movie – high-pitched and desperate – ripped from somewhere raw and primal.

There’s a hand in your hair, yanking you backward where you’re received by a hard chest and an arm snaking around your waist, hoisting you off the ground, kicking and yelling.

It’s the brute. He looks almost happy you’d tried running away – a manic look of delight on his face when he finally drops you down on the floor – pinning you beneath him – shadowing you with teeth seemingly dripping with venom and all the ugly punishments he’s no doubt cooking up inside his sick mind.

“Your ass is gettin’ it extra fuckin’ hard tonight – my handprint won’t heal for a month – won’t even be able to sit down without cryin’.” He growls, his teeth on your cheek as he grips your jaw tight – starting off your punishment with a harsh lovebite.

You look at the more merciful of the two. 

He’s standing off to the side, looking down at the two of you. 

You expect he’d come to the rescue like he’d done all those other times.

But to your utter horror… he isn’t lifting a single finger to stop it. 

His face is blank – cold – as cold as the words that roll dryly off his tongue, “I think we’ve established that spanking isn’t enough…” 

The one holding you down halts in his advances and seems to get just as frigid as you by the cold-blooded tone of his partner – who takes slow steps toward the two of you, so close he’s got your hair pinned beneath his toes before crouching down until he as well looms over you like a darkening storm.

He reaches a stiff hand to soothe the ring of teeth left on your cheek by the other – seemingly kindly, but his eyes are so jaded your breath catches in your throat – soulless as they stare into your teary ones.

“Maybe we ought to get ahead of the issue and break your legs.” He suggests nonchalantly, making both your and your other captor’s faces bleach.

Then he smiles – that kind smile, only now you can’t help but flinch at the sight of it. 

“That way, everyone’s happy,” He states, explaining, “You won't have to be tied up, and we can trust you to keep your word and stay put when you promise us you will.”

Then he stands up and straightens himself, looking at his partner with that same eerie smile.

“Where’d you put the bat again?”

The brute stiffens. His crazed expression had melted in light of the other into a look you’d never seen on him before. He swallows thickly as though he’s just as worried as you are. His voice is hesitant, “I think rope is enough…” 

The other throws his brows up. “Oh?” Then he snaps his focus back to you. “What do you think, baby? You think that’s enough?” He walks back to the two of you, and you feel the intense urge to hide behind the one you’d initially been caught running from.

He looks down at you expectantly, watching your lip quiver as you struggle to form an answer without choking on it.

“Hm? What was that? Rope or bat, what do you prefer?” His voice is sharp, licking at you like a knife.

You stutter, “Ro-rope.”

“Yeah? Okay, then – that’s settled.” He confirms, then looks back at the other. “Go get the rope.”

It doesn’t seem like he wants to leave – almost like he’s afraid of what might happen if he does. “Now?” He asks.

“Yes, now.” The smile tightens – sharpens into something truly lethal if you were to test it. “Our pet thinks they can run wild, so we’ll have to reintroduce them to the leash.”

Then he sets his sights back on you, robbing you of all air.

“Unless you’d prefer the bat after all?”

You whimper, shaking your head with a sniffle, “No-no – rope…”

He looks back to the other. “You heard 'em. Get going.”

He’s reluctant about it – looking from you to him, then back to you again, almost apologetically – before he gets up off you, leaving you on the floor – alone.

Your hair is then grabbed harshly, and you’re pulled up to your feet before you’re dragged off them – pulled along until you’re tugged from the floor up onto his lap as he plopped down, comfortably seated on the couch.

He sighs, letting go of your hair and placing both hands on the fat of your haunches, making you straddle him – mirroring your breathless, tear-streaked face with an expressionless one.

A hand ascends, and you’re convinced he’s going to slap you – but as you squeeze your eyes tightly shut in wait for it, his hand finds your cheek, only to ever-so-gently pet the wet away.

Cupping your face, he places a light peck on the corner of your mouth, followed by his voice, “Apologize, and I’ll forgive you.”

Your eyes peel open, looking back into his. You regret it instantly. Still eclipsed, it’s a cold and blank stare that seems to seize you by the throat.

“I’m sorry, I’ll never- never ever do it again.” You whisper pitifully – as if you’re afraid to be too loud.

“Hm…” He hums, looking unimpressed. “I don’t think that’s good enough…” 

His hand slips from your face down your neck, circling it lightly before squeezing it firmly with whitening knuckles. “You hurt my feelings, y’know? I trusted you, and you lied to me – right to my fucking face.”

You cack, wrapping your smaller hands around his wrist as he strangles the words out of you. “I’m sorry- I’m really- really sorry-”

His breathing is thick, as though something’s bubbling underneath the surface – a beast within whose bloodthirst hasn’t yet been sated. “I want more than empty words.” He states flatly, unforgivingly.

Still, he lets go of your throat, letting you drop to his chest, panting sore breaths with his words ringing hot in your head. You start kissing between sipping for air – desperately, up his neck and jaw, then his lips, even though he doesn’t kiss back – pleading, “Please forgive me- I’m sorry, I-”

“Yeah? You’re sorry?” He mocks, stroking the back of your head, down your back as though soothing you – voice dripping with fake empathy. “Sorry for what exactly? Hm? For being a dumb little bitch, thinking you could run when you haven’t even so much as walked on your own two feet for months.”

A laugh inches into his words like a sickness. The eerie smile returns, small and curling in the corner of his mouth.

“You were fuckin’ hilarious, you know that?” He breathes lightly – eyes wide, staring at you like cornered prey. “Trippin’ over yer own two feet, barely even making it to the door.”

The grip around your throat returns, and you squeak out a whimper.

“Say it.” He seethes, “Say you’re a dumb little bitch who didn’t know what you were doing.” His lips ghost yours with the command, forcing you to echo the words back into his mouth.

“I’m- I’m a dumb little bitch- I’m- I didn’t know what I was doing-” 

He hums at your shivering but doesn’t ease his grip – molding his lips against yours, he kisses you deeply until parting with your lips between his teeth – letting go slowly.

“I- I’ll be good from now on, I promise-” You add – in the hope it would thaw the ice of his stare.

It doesn’t. He keeps them just as jaded – half-masted now as he runs his fingers up and down your spine, brushing your chin and cheek with his lips until blowing on your ear. “You better be.”

You shudder, wincing.

“‘Cause if you ever try anything like that again, I’m gonna go get that bat – and nothing and no one is gonna keep me from bashing away at you until I’ve made certain you can’t lift a single fucking finger without my help.”

You’re a broken mess of sniveling apologies and prayers on his lap by the time the brute comes back with the rope. 

But the one who’d reduced you to it doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. 

“There you are!” He beams with a bright smile.

Acting as though you weren’t falling apart in his arms, gripping his shirt for purchase while sobbing hard and ugly into his chest. 

“Let’s tie every square inch of 'em up like you suggested.” He muses while picking your tear-stained face up in both hands, nose-kissing you with his words dripping fondly off his tongue. “Just like a floppy fish ready to be gutted.”

BNHA – BakuDeku, DabiHawks, EndMight, ShinKami, TodoDeku, KiriBaku, Shiggy x villain!Deku

JJK – SatoSugu, YujiKuna, YujiGumi

HQ – Miya twins, IwaOi,

BLLK – NagiReo, KuniGiri

AOT - EreMin

DS - InoTan, DouAka

[ohdarlingohsweetheart]

Yandere who feels so guilty for jerking off to you in the shower. Yandere who's a pitiful mess as he strokes his cock and imagines all the ways he'd fuck you, make you gag and choke and whimper, pictures how tight you'd be while arching your back and blubbering nonsense as he makes you cum. The cold water from the shower doesn't help, he can't stop thinking about your smell, your taste, how easy it was to get into your house in the first place, has to bite his knuckles when he cums so he doesn't wake you up with the noises that pass his lips, nearly knocking the soap and shampoo over as he hunches over out of breath

Being pathetic and hating that he's hard again and just wants to bury himself in your throat or deep inside of you while you cry out and can't escape. He's so fucked up, he KNOWS he is but he can't stop, it feels too good, feels to right, he feels like he's losing his mind!

-Mommabean

[ohdarlingohsweetheart]

JJK ! Gojo Satoru

TW: NSFW, yandere

Satoru’s strange in bed.

Sometimes he’ll settle on his knees between your thighs, laying kisses and kitten licks on your pussy through your panties. And when it becomes too much for him, he’ll get up only to be satisfied with simply rubbing his cock against the wet fabric – cumming on your belly without barely having done anything.

You think he enjoys edging himself so much that he gets lost in it – to the point it’s not really edging anymore.

Sometimes, he’ll have you on his lap and won’t even take his pants off before making a mess. You’ll wear his shirt, and he’ll pout at the sight of how it swallows you up – needing to bite his lip, looking at your cute titties pointy against the chest. He’ll dry-hump into that sweet soft space between your thighs with a tented boner and suddenly just squish you tight – his chin sloppy against your shoulder, drooling with a purr, eyes glossy and elated.

He's super weird.

[ohdarlingohsweetheart]

My three girlfriends. And yes, they smoke weed.

[ohdarlingohsweetheart]

— ꒰‧⁺ ✎ [ first time with the yanderes ] *ೃ༄

your first time sleeping with each of my respective yanderes, currently up to date for: the teammates (oliver, skylar, and declan separately), the criminal, the hero, the business ceo, and the bully.

please let me know if the format of this post is good! i was struggling go figure out how to fit all of the characters in without it becoming overwhelming and this is what i landed on 😅

i also got so excited because i hit 500 750(?!?)followers while writing this (which?? holy shit?? how!? ive been here for a week ajdksksn im crying fr) so i made it extra long~

reader/darling is gn, so their genitals aren't mentioned. (im always too afraid to just make things be fem reader in case someone really wants a gn/male reader 😫)

word count: 2,052

contents: sex, foreplay, insertion sex (vague, so its up to you where its being inserted), overstimulation, edging

minors dni 🎀 18+ only

the team mates

💌 you do already know your first sexual experience with all three of the soccer boys at once [read here!] but what about each of them separately?

oliver is enthusiastic.

he's always so excited to get his hands on you, anywhere on you, and every single time, he still can't believe he gets to do it– that you let him touch you. with oli, your first time could happen anywhere, anytime. he doesn't care about waiting for a special time; he can make anything special, so long as its for you.

the foreplay starts out heavy and goes on and on and on; he won't be satisfied until you've cum on his fingers and his tongue at least once each. he wants to worship your body, bring you to the peak as many times as he can before he even considers thinking about himself. as soon as you start begging for him, though... all bets are off. and you're already so relaxed, dripping with your own fluids and his saliva and lube, so its perfect.

just for you, he’ll ease in. he loves the way your legs lock around him, the way you whine and gasp as he fills you. he pushes himself in as far as he can go, bottoming out and gripping your hips like a lifeline. you feel so good, so hot and soft around him, it takes all the will power he has left not to fuck you into oblivion right then and there. he kisses you breathless, giving you time to adjust before he starts thrusting.

he babbles to you, gushing about how good you feel, how hot and soft and slick you are around him, how beautiful you are, how much he loves you. eventually, he can't hold himself back. he plans on fucking you until neither of you can think straight, until you’re melting from pleasure, until neither of you can walk. he’ll overstimulate himself, just to keep experiencing the privilege of being inside you, his darling.

skylar is obsessive about your pleasure.

your first time will be calculated on his part; he’ll make sure it happens in the apartment, where he can do whatever he wants and has everything at his disposal. he plans on fucking you plenty more in the future, but the first time will always be something you remember- he’ll make sure of it. you won't be walking out of there tomorrow.

he prolongs every part of it as much as he can, as much as he can handle. you don't get to cum until he’s inside you, but that doesn't mean he won't be driving you half insane with his mouth, his fingers, toys he’s bought just for you. the foreplay isn't done until he’s sure that the only thing on your mind is how bad you want him inside you.

once you get to that point, though, he’s desperate to be inside you too. you may not always be able to tell through his snarky, teasing persona, but he’s as obsessed with you as the other two. he slides inside you, kissing your neck at the same time, and he knows this is what heaven must feel like. he listens to you, watches how you react as he thrusts in and out, figuring out exactly what speed you like, how hard he has to fuck you to make you moan and cry. he focuses on how hard you clench around him when he talks to you, muttering the filthiest things in your ear.

he wants to feel you clench and cum around him. he wants you to know how good he can make you feel, how well he can learn your body. he knows he can love you better than anyone outside your little group, that you’ll never need anyone else outside of them- and he’ll prove it to you all night long.

declan loses his careful control.

he’s always been so controlled around you because he cares so much about you. he’s bigger and stronger and he knows how many people find him scary- that's the last thing he wants you to think about him. but by the end of your makeout session, he can't do it anymore. he can't wait and follow your lead- he has to have you now or he thinks he might die.

he pins you down so easily. he loves the way you shudder, the way you squirm against him, testing his strength. the way you roll your hips against his as he kisses you again and again, until you’re lightheaded and fuzzy and can barely pay attention to the way he’s removing your clothes- until his hands are all over you.

he has to prepare you, but he wants you to come undone in his hands. he wants to feel you writhe under him, making him feel powerful as he controls your pleasure. he loves watching your face as he teases you, stroking you with rough, skilled fingers.

when he finally sinks into you, its not entirely gentle. its hot and possessive and wild and out of control, everything you make him feel. he folds your legs up with your knees to your chest and pounds into you so hard you swear you can feel him in your throat.

the criminal

the criminal is in disbelief. he’s watched you for so long, done so many things for you, orchestrated so much behind the scenes…. and it’s paying off. he’s not seeing you through cameras anymore; this is the real deal. you’re in front of him, half naked, lips puffy and red from him kissing you. and you’re letting him touch you.

its better than he could have dreamed. none of his fantasies live up to the feel of your skin under his rough hands as he pulls the rest of your clothes off, the sounds you make as he teases you with his fingers. he’s so glad he had the foresight to make sure the first time he took you was in your room- the camera's would capture everything, and he could relive this moment everyday if he wanted.

he breaks you apart with his hands first, somehow both gentle and completely domineering. every touch is an act of love coming from him, and he’ll make you take it all. he works you up slowly, his hands everywhere, until you are overwhelmed with it all. you are the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, and the face you make when he spreads your legs and slides into you, the way your legs twitch and you clench around him… his obsession soars to new heights.

he loves being able to move you, hold you down in any position he likes, but his favorite part is looking at your face as he drives you crazy with pleasure. he praises you the whole time– you feel so good, you take him so well, you’re doing so well for him, you cry so beautifully. you were made for him.

the superhero

kane is reverent. you are so incredibly special to him, something practically angelic. you wormed into his mind, his heart, and he’s never been able to get you out. your first time with him will probably be in his apartment, where he can assure you are comfortable and he can properly care for you afterwards.

kane makes you use your words. he doesn't want to get anything wrong– he wants you to tell him exactly what you want him to do to you. he encourages you to be vocal as he works his fingers into you, kissing your neck and heating up his hands to make it all the more tortuous. the first orgasm is only a warm up for him. he’ll put his mouth on you next, watching your face as he pulls another leg shaking orgasm out of you- and he just licks his lips, going in for another taste.

he wants you to beg for him. he wants to know that you really, truly want it, that you want him as much as he wants you. he lays you back on his bed, on the softest sheets you’ve ever felt, and the first time he slides into you is agonizingly slow. kane would never dream of hurting you- the thought of it terrifies him, in fact.

his overwhelming desire to please you overrides how desperate he is to be inside you, to fuck you into oblivion. he holds your hands down against the bed, entertwining your fingers as he buries himself inside you, slowly and completely. he isn't satisfied until you’re shaking, begging him to give you a rest, and then he’ll pull another orgasm out of you for good measure.

the ceo

the ceo is possessive. by the time he has you right where he wants you, bent over his desk or trembling in his lap in his office chair, he’ll have made up his mind that you are his in ever way. now is the time to prove it to you. he’ll take his time to show you that you are meant to be together, that you’re meant to be his- even if it takes all night.

he’s a little bit of a sadist, admittedly, and you’ll learn that about him very quickly. he’ll use his own necktie to restrain your hands, tying them behind your back, so he can have access to every part of you. he’ll listen to your noises and learn what affects you the most, how you like him to touch you, what feels best– and he’ll use it to his advantage.

he’ll have you shaking and desperate, begging for him to fuck you, long before he gives into what you both want. he wants to hear you beg for him, to make you admit that you love the way he makes you feel, that you're made for him, that you belong to him. only once you’ve satisfied his never ending possessive streak will he give you what you want.

he plays and toys with every sensitive part of your body while he’s fucking you, like you aren't already so full of him, so overwhelmed by him. he marks up your body, hickeys and love bites all over your chest and neck. he loves being the one who gets to corrupt that perfect image of you, who gets to break you into a moaning, squealing mess. and he’ll love being the one who gets to clean you up, who gets to kiss you softly and brush his fingers over all the hickeys and bites, who gets to bring you home and tuck you into bed.

the bully

the bully is unsure of himself- at first. he spent so long burying his feelings, feeding into obsession and convincing himself it was hatred and not love; he spent so long trying to convince you that he hated you. but you saw right through him- of course you did. you were better than him, better than he would ever be, so infuriatingly perfect that it drove him crazy. so perfect that he’s almost unsure of what to do with you, with himself, as you makeout in your room… and slowly start to disrobe for him.

he’ll let you take his hands and place them on you, his fingers shaky as they ghost over your skin, almost afraid to break this final barrier between his lies and the truth. but it’ll be worth it if he gets to keep touching you like this, if this means he’s the only one who gets to do this to you.

once the dam breaks, he’ll have you thrown back on your bed. he’s got to make sure you know he still owns you, you still belong to him, just in a slightly new way. he’ll become obsessive with your body, your pleasure, using you as the outlet for all of the emotions that you make him feel that he doesn't quite understand. he’ll make an absolute mess out of you, laying his claim over every part of your body, inside and out.

when he finally, finally thrusts inside you, he feels like he’s dying. nothing else in the world could ever feel this good, he’s sure of it. he never wants to stop, never wants to leave this room; he holds you down and fucks you to the point of exhaustion, in as many different positions as you can handle, growling in your ear that you’re his, and he’ll hurt anyone who tries to take you from him.

xoxo mazzy @ darling--core 🎀

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