#how the fuck do you draw rain please help

[saewokhrisz]

cass doodle..

[yanderestarangel]

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ㅤ➸ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐀𝐒𝐒 | 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐌𝐊1

★ 𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 ★

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ㅤ➸ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

BI HAN, KUAI LIANG, LIU KANG, REIKO, SHANG TSUNG, RAIN.

He was tired of being a hard!dom, so when you wanted to fuck him from behind he smirked, pretending it wasn't a big deal, just quickly agreeing, and going to get ready. Some lubricants were used to massage his nipples and abdomen, he was so submissive to you, with his muscular and strong arms tied by thin red ropes, with strong knots that he had made himself. He watched you stay between his legs, as he worked between massaging his dick with your hands and using your mouth, the taste of musk and cum filled your mouth, especially when seeing your boyfriend who was so proud and dom, so submissive. He moaned loudly and asked you to fuck him soon, promising that he would be a good boy for you, that you would just fuck him hard soon.

"-Please (Y/N) I'm your good boy... I'm your pretty boy right? I just want to be fucked by you please... I'll do anything." -He whimpered as he looked at you with tears of desire and need in his eyes, the perfect mix to feed your dom side, lost for a long time in the dynamic you had, but now, you would put him in his place. He begged to go on top, sitting on the strap you had bought just to fuck him, he knew he was a big man, but he was going to do his best not to hurt you with his weight. You saw him flex his toned thighs under the bed, slowly sitting on the plastic member in your crotch, he moaned loudly with every inch that entered his tight hole. You watched with pleasure as his muscular and sweaty body bounced on the huge dildo, you could feel your own excitement growing by the minute, one of your hands went to his bouncing and needy cock, as he looked at you beneath him, his hair completely loose sticking to the neck and face, even the back.

"-Please let me cum Daddy... please... my dick hurts..."

"-I need your mouth... please I want to cum..."

He would say looking at you and trying to get you kiss, something you would deny, even taking the strap off his ass, making him suck the toy and experience his own taste while one of his fingers went into his own hole, and the other hand guided his already cumming cock, increasing the pleasure he felt because of you.

KENSHI, JOHNNY CAGE, RAIDEN, SYZOTH, TOMAS VRBADA.

He was always your good submissive boy, so fucking him from behind was something he always wanted, smiling and blushing widely as you told him you wanted to do such a thing with him. He immediately agreed with the idea, helping you choose the size of the dildo you would use to fuck him. He prepared himself hours before, and stayed erect all day, thinking about how he was going to please you. He would smile with embarrassment and moan softly when he felt you dominate him so well, kissing and marking his chest with strong bites, drawing some blood from him. He loved calling you "Daddy", practically like a sinful prayer that slipped from his lips.

"-Yes, just like that Daddy... Mmm fuck, I want to cum..." He would wish to be fucked doggy style, even though he's bigger than you, he needs that, feeling your hand pressing his head against his soft mattress while you milk his hard cock, smearing it all over his abdomen, beating him and violating his poor overstimulated hole with the lube-smeared dildo and his own juices.

You could hear his thick, desperate moans muffled.

His strong and sculptural body was now completely at your mercy, you lightly pulled his short hair, making him scream loudly in pleasure, while his hips sought even more friction with you, madly calling you "Daddy" "Master", begging you to praise him. Spanking his ass was welcome, especially because it would be sore and red, and that was exactly what he wanted, to be totally marked by you. He begged more and more, the pulsation of his cock increased with each thrust you gave his ass with the strap-on, using your fingers to watch his tight, wet hole completely swallow the sex toy, while he writhed, close to cumming.

"-Please more, I- I want to be your good boy daddy... fuck I want to cum... I need to cum soon, let me cum please."

He couldn't even hold back the thick jets of cum that covered his stomach and sheets beneath you, as he shook more and more.

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

[spiceofvy]

Hyunjin walking in on the reader masturbating

notes: afab reader but no pronouns used, being watched during masturbation, guided masturbation, drawing, filming, praise, slight humiliation, overstimulation, "just one more", cunnilingus, finger sucking, reader does not give explicit consent to any of this but does not feel uncomfortable (please discuss with your partner before you try this at home)

requested by the amazing @veryjeongintxtkid

word count: 2.9k

You take one more look at the clock as you wash your hands in the bathroom. It’s about 40 more minutes until Hyunjin comes home, just enough time for today’s evening plan. Masturbating.

It has been a long day; the people around you were getting on your nerves; you were caught in the rain and now your favorite shoes were covered in dirt. All those problems just screamed for a climax to improve your mood. 

You were also a little frustrated in the sexual sense. Hyunjin was preparing for the next comeback and when he came home, he was so tired. You knew that if you asked him, he would have sex with you so you could be satisfied, but you would feel guilty if he did just because you wanted to, not because he was also feeling like it. But the dissatisfaction was slowly eating at your nerves, so today your hand would do the honors.

You change into some comfy clothes and let yourself drop onto the bed. Dead tired, you could also just fall asleep now. But there is this itch you have to scratch and so you hook your thumbs under the hem of your pants and panties. Pull them down slowly, feeling how you’re already a little wet from anticipation. Kicking off your pants you just realized again how much you needed this. Your breath already goes a bit faster. Smiling at your neediness,  you push your hands under your shirt and softly caress your breast, the light touch making the hairs on your body stand up. One hand making quick work of bunching up your shirt, while your other hand started kneading your sensitive breasts. You can’t help but chuckle again feeling your nipples harden. It’s been a while since you have been this horny. You start to rub your nipples between your thumb and index finger. Sending sweet spikes of pleasure to your core.

You let your hand wander to your already wet folds. But right before reaching them, you let them wander up and down the inside of your thighs. Teasing yourself a bit, pinching the skin, scratching carefully. Just enough to make your heartbeat rise more before your fingers dip into your wet hole. Carefully not touching your clit as you gather the wetness from your cunt before gliding your wet fingers back up to your chest, where you circle the right nipple. The wetness from your vagina adds to the stimulation and gives it even more of a perverse feeling. Your hands now work simultaneously on your breasts. Kneading, pulling, pinching. Teasing soft sounds from your throat. Closing your eyes you imagine it’s Hyunjin’s instead. Fuck, you wish he was with you right now. Making you feel dizzy, praising you as he makes you squirm under him.

Your breath goes fast and the need between your legs becomes harder and harder to ignore. You release one of your tits and let your hand glide to your glistening slit. Again, you gather wetness from your hole before you softly touch your sensitive clit. A shiver of hot lust runs through you, pulling your fingers away, smiling at how needy you are. Teasing yourself again, you pull at your nipple while circling your clitoris without touching it directly. Your heart beats out of your chest and you feel your blood rushing through your veins. When you finally touch your neglected clit, you can’t stop the moan that builds in your throat.

Enough teasing. You waited long enough for this.

Giving your breast another squeeze, you move the hand at your clitoris faster. The wet noises sounding pornographic, and just as sensual as the moans you now freely let out. The weeks of not cumming showing themselves in how sensitive you are. Your other hand starts to wander all over your body, unsure where to touch yourself next, on a mindless chase for more pleasure. Letting out another moan, feeling your orgasm coming closer while you hear steps next to you.

Your eyes open but your hand barely comes to a stop, making you whine as you edge yourself. It was Hyunjin, sitting on the chair at your desk, holding a sketchbook and a pen.

“Don’t stop, please”, your eyes meet and he looks almost frantic. His pen moves blindly over his paper as he looks up and down your body. You know this expression, he is deep in his artist mindset. “Please keep going, for me”, he says with his low voice, looking directly at you.

You were already so close you weren’t even thinking about stopping, holding eye contact with Hyunjin as you start moving your fingers on your clitoris again. The feeling of being watched burns under your skin just as much as your impending orgasm. Feeling even more naked now. Your insides are out under Hyunjins’ watchful eyes. His pen scratching over the paper; you know the picture he captures must be sinful, obvious in how shamelessly stares at your body, at your flushed face, your hard nipples, and at your cunt open for him to look at. The way he stares at you makes you dizzy. It brought a whole new kind of pleasure. You never considered that you could like being watched like this. "Hyunjin!" you moan softly and he smirks confidently while looking at his paper. While you just wish that he would throw that stupid sketchbook away and touch you until you can’t remember anything but his name.

“Hyunjin… close”, you moan when you feel your orgasm approaching. The knot in your abdomen tightens and finally pops. “Jinnie! Jinnie! Coming!” you squeeze your eyes shut and your legs start twitching. Your free hand claws at the mattress as the world seems to stop for a second.

The world starts to slowly turn again while you recover from your orgasm. Your body relaxes letting out a deep sigh. This was exactly what you needed after a long day. Swallowing the drool that gathered in your mouth you pet your own thigh soothingly. You hear Hyunjin getting closer and sitting next to you. You expect his hand on you, helping you calm down. After this orgasm. But they don't come.

“Don’t stop now baby”, he whispers deeply next to you while you open your eyes; he still has this focused expression,  “I don’t have all the references I need.”

You whine, as he opens a new page in his sketchbook, “Hyunjin”, you lowly plead with him. He smiles at you, but his eyes tell you that he is far from finished with you.

“C’mon, give me one more. You’re my muse.” He says, laying his head to one side. The way he asked made you weak and the hand on your thighs twitched towards your clit. You flinched when you actually touched it, sensitive about the stimulation. “So good for me, keep rubbing it”, you whimper, while starting to move your fingers. Spikes of pleasure coming from your clitoris. “Very good, just like that, my beautiful, beautiful muse.” His praise dipped you in honey and numbed the sparks of overstimulation as you went faster. You whined and your hips tried instinctively to move away from the stimulation, but the mattress stopped them. Body writhing and twitching, another whine leaves your lips.

You hear Hyunjin chuckle, “You’re doing so well, so pretty for me.” His way of talking to you was almost soft if it wasn’t for the sharpness that lingered in his voice. “Now, play with your cute tits for me.” You ripped your free hand away from the mattress and started to mindlessly paw at your breast. Unsure how to touch yourself further with your mind in a haze. You let out a long moan and throw your head back. The heat in your core was back already, and it was stealing your breath.

“So good. You look so pretty. You’re a masterpiece already.” The way he kept praising you pushed you closer to the edge and when you dared to look back in his eyes, they were still as dark and hazy as always. He stared you down with you falling apart under his look.

“Jinnie, close again!” You plead, hoping that this will finally get him to touch you. But he just smiled at you, shamelessly staring at you.

“That’s fine. Cum for me.”

His words alone pushed you over the edge. Everything around you turned white. Not even able to moan, you just opened your mouth to a silent sound and bore your hands into the mattress. The pleasure was mind-numbing but came with an almost painful electricity. You barely were able to come down from that orgasm. Your body twitching and going stiff, shaking you to the core.

“Look at you, baby, so pretty. You look perfect. You are perfect”, you turned your heavy head towards him. Admiring his soft smile, the way he looks at you with pure adoration. He slowly puts away his sketchbook and pen and pushes the chair away. “So good for me. Listening so well.” he keeps going as you take a couple of deep breaths. You giggle at yourself, his praise making you giddy.

“Did I do well as an art study?”, you teased him and he chuckles looking at you adoringly.

“Of course, my muse. I’m almost finished.”

“Almost?”, you look at him with wide eyes. What more does he need? He already put down his sketchbook.

Still smiling at you, he pulls out his phone and holds it up. “Just one more baby.”, his smile is devilish and his expression still contained this frantic glimmer, with the need to create art.

“More?”, you whine, pleading to him, you don’t know if you could cum again. You take a deep breath and feel inside yourself before you move your shaky hand to your glistening folds.

“Good, you’re doing so well”, he instantly resumes praising you as he holds up his phone, obviously starting the camera.

You hesitate before you touch your poor, oversensitive clit, remembering how your last orgasm felt. You finally convince yourself to just do it, your whole body seizing at the stimulation. With a soft hiss, you pull your hand away again. The touch was painful and you couldn’t decide if it was in a good or in a bad way. With every touch, your hips tried to flee from the overstimulation. You can only slowly rub your clit, as too much movement would burn your mind completely.

To your side, Hyunjin tuts at you. “C’mon baby, I know you can do better than that.”

Soft tears run down your face while you move your fingers quicker, a soft sob building in your throat. You felt like you were on fire, shaking and twitching on the mattress. Overstimulating yourself was a whole new kind of torture.

But it was just too much. You couldn’t go further, “Jinnie- can’t!” you sob and look up at him with teary eyes, hoping for him to help you finally. But he just smirks and steps closer to you.

“Is it too much for my little muse? It’s not that hard, you can do it. Why don’t you fuck yourself with your fingers? Your hole must feel so empty.” he belittles you and shame cuts you like a knife. Your free hand quickly moves to your cunt and, without thinking twice, you shove two of your fingers into your hole. The squelching noises humiliate you even more. You didn’t need any preparation. After two orgasms, your cunt was ready to take whatever it could get. Hyunjin chuckles from the side, “So greedy, so good for me.”

The additional stimulation makes the pleasure more bearable, shifting your focus away from your clit. While at the same time pushing you even further into the haze, you’re currently in. You sob and your body finally lets you move your fingers faster. Accepting that there is going to be another orgasm.

Hyunjin steps closer to you, holding his phone to your face with a wicked grin. “Look at you. So pretty for me. So perfect.” He mumbles, caressing your cheek with his thumb, letting it glide to your lips, pushing gently into your mouth. Opening it, pressing down on your tongue. He pulls his thumb out and exchanges it with two of his fingers. “Open for me,” he whispers and opens your mouth more. He films directly into it as he carefully lets his fingers run over your tongue almost all the way back to your throat before he pulls them back out. Drool runs down your chin as you moan around the fingers in your mouth. Your head feels dizzy, eyes flickering between his and the camera lens. Hands never stop moving.

Hyunjin pans the camera to your breast, his hand moving from your mouth to one of your breasts, leaving a wet trail on your skin. He holds your tit softly, clinically. Not to bring you pleasure, but to get the best shot of it. The best reference. He swipes a wet finger over your nipple and pulls it, making you choke. Before he goes further down your body, sitting next to your thighs. A tiny bit of hope fills you that he would finally help you know, but instead, he grabs your thigh like a vice and presses it roughly against your chest to get a better look at your fingers buried in yourself.

“Fuck,” he sighs as he watches your cunt, holding it open, moving his phone closer to get all the details. “So good, baby. I know you’re close. I can see your hole clenching around your fingers. So needy to cum.”

And he was right. The heat in your abdomen was almost unbearable. You were pushed so close that you couldn’t think of anything but him and the pleasure he was giving you by ordering you around.

“Do it baby, cum for me.”

Your orgasm crashed over you violently, as you only let out a sob. You tense up as the room rotates around you. It takes you a minute to come back to reality. And when you are, you are met with Hyunjin’s soft smile. He drops his phone into the mattress and gets up to gently press his lips against yours.

He kisses you slowly and languidly. Holding your face as if you were made out of glass. “Thank you so much, my muse, you did amazing.” He whispers, swiping your sweat-soaked hair out of your face. “Gave me all I needed, so good for me. So beautiful.” He whispers praises into your skin, leaving soft kisses all over your face. He softly holds you while your heartbeat calms down, your mind coming back to earth.

Finally, you turn your head towards him. “Got all you need?” You tease him with a smile. Feeling safe with him by your side.

He lays one of his hands on your cheek and you nuzzle against it. “You did so well. I’m so proud of you.” He whispers and kisses your forehead, “Can’t thank you enough. You really are my perfect little muse.” He keeps on petting your hair as he suddenly perked up. “Actually, I know how to thank my muse.” He says, smiling mischievously before moving down the mattress until his face is nestled between your thighs. “Let me show you how grateful I am, my muse.”

You couldn’t stop the dry laugh that escapes your throat. “I don’t know if I can cum again, Jinnie.”

“Don’t worry, I know you can.” Is all he says before he hungrily buried his face in your pussy. Lapping up the wetness that gathered there during your last three orgasms. Your whole body flinches and tries to move away from the stimulation, but he holds onto your thighs with a strong grip. Fucking you with his tongue before moving up to suck on your poor abused clit.

It’s all too much. Head falling back, you seize under his ministrations. Your veins are filled with fire, but it’s not enough. You need more. You need his all. Your eyes roll back and your mouth hangs open uselessly. No longer able to form coherent sentences. Hyunjin releases one of your thighs and pushes his fingers into your cunt, reaching deeper than you could before. You are shaking as he fingers you ruthlessly. His eyes never leaving your face, smugly watching your fucked out expression.

Your head goes from one side to another, trying to deal with the pleasurable pain when your mind suddenly goes still. The pleasure killed all the surrounding sounds. You only feel Hyunjin. Only Hyunjin. Nothing goes on in your brain. He will take care of it all. With you just start falling into the cloudy abyss of your subconscious.

Your last orgasm makes you twitch weakly, garbled sounds coming from you that could be interpreted as Hyunjin’s name. Everything is soft and mushy around you. And if it weren’t for Hyunjin softly pulling you to his side, you would no longer know if you were still on earth. Everything feels far away, you just hear a voice talking to you. Hyunjin’s voice.

“It’s okay baby.” “Come back, you did so well.” “So beautiful for me.” “I’m here”

The world slowly starts to take form around you again. The fuzzy feeling leaving you as you feel Hyunjin by your side, holding you tightly, caressing your hair, whispering sweet words.

“There you are, my beautiful muse. You were down so deep. You did so well.”

You reach out your hand to hold his, and he gently takes your hand in his, kissing each knuckle carefully. Silently, you smile at him, not trusting yourself to talk again yet.

“Why don’t we go take a bath together?”

You nod, still smiling. Everything was okay, and your frustration was long forgotten.

[chososheart]

you don’t know how it happened, or how you ended up here but your hands are on him, everywhere on him; his hair, his face, his chest. your index finger looped under his belt, pulling him in…

“eren,” you moan.

“yeah?”

you feel him grind against you, his boner pressing hard against your hip.

“here?” you ask quietly. you’re afraid the random rush of adrenaline that made him pin you up against the wall will vanish if you remind him about how risky this is.

his hands find your ass and pull you closer, so much closer, it answers for him. yes, here.

you’re wet. your shirt stuck on you, your bra inching and poking your skin in the wrong ways. his hair sending droplets of rain down your face. one second ago, you were running away from the rain with him, and now, you’re in a warmly lit room being shoved so hard against the wall, you’re afraid it’s a part of you now. and as good as it feel, as magically and exciting as it is to be held by eren like this, you know it must come to an end.

you pull away from his touch, and put your hand on his chest to push him away a bit. “baby, not here. remember they’re coming?”

he breathed heavy, too heavy. you can feel his heartbeat as if it’s your own from how close his body’s stuck to yours.

“i forgot,” he says with brows furrowed. you can still feel him.

you don’t know who ‘they’ are, or why they’re coming in this room but you know you can’t stay here longer.

eren pulls away from you, and with the same dissatisfied look on his face, he pulls you by the hand and into the restroom on the other side of the door you just passed by. he opens a stall door and locks it after he’s in.

you’re standing in front of the stall door when you say, “eren, are you sure?” you can’t help but find it incredibly attractive just how dominant he’s being, especially since he’s usually the exact opposite.

“yea.”

he turns you around and pushes his dick against your ass. you’re both still fully clothed, but it feels so good. he rubs his erection against you while he squeezes your hips. you moan and close your eyes, hoping he gets rid of the pulses that have achingly taken over your cunt.

eren’s moaning uncontrollably when he pushes your skirt up and pulls your panties aside. his tip lingers at your entrance.

“put it in, baby. i want you to.” with that he pushes in slow and deep. you always feel him so much bigger from this position.

“baby,” he groans. he picks up his pace in no time, fucking you hard against the cool stall.

you’re biting your lip as you feel him rub against your walls continuously, he takes his right hand against your clit. his mouth is open and breathing heavy against your ear when he says. “baby, how do you feel?”

“good.” you cry.

“good? yeah?” he shoved his hips closer to you.

“yea, baby. so good.” your eyes are squeezed shut.

“oh, my god. it feels so good.” he pants. eren gets so whiny when he’s close.

you open your legs further. “baby, are you close?”

“yea.” his eyes are shut and your ears are met with a string of curses not long after.

you arch your back and say, “you’re doing so good, baby. doing so good. you’re always so good.”

“baby, you feel so good.” his voice turns you on so much, it’s insane.

“yeah, baby? how does it feel?”

“wet, baby. so wet.” he’s fucking you so good, you know you’re close.

“baby, i’m close. oh, my god, baby, i’m so close.” you whisper, your face pressed against the stall.

“cum for me, baby. i want you to cum.” he cries out. “i want you to cum, baby. i want you to feel good.” he’s fucking you harder now, taking no mercy on you. his hand drawing steady circles on your puffy clit.

“baby, i’m gonna cum.”

eren kisses your neck and fastens his speed until he feels that pulsing sensation he knows too well around his dick. your pussy tightens around him, which is always his breaking point.

“baby, baby. i’m gonna cum.” his voice is raspy and low against your ear. “tell me you want me to cum, baby. please tell me to cum.”

“baby, cum, baby. please cum. i want you to cum in me baby.”

“yeah?” he whispers.

“yeah, baby. i want you to cum so bad. please cum for me baby.”

he cums in your cunt. thick and heavy. you feel it shooting in you and can’t help but to moan.

you both stay still in your positions, breathing slow and heavy. letting your euphoric highs come to an end. eren pulls out of you and before you move, he takes your ass cheeks in his hands and licks your pussy. you twitch, it’s sensitive. but he continues to suck and lick the cum out of you.

when he’s done, he takes you by the back of your head, turns you around, and spits it in your mouth. it tastes sweet. it’s insane, you always expected men to taste like liquified shit but eren, once again, is above the standard. you’d go as far as craving his cum in your mouth and finding it tasty.

you look at him in the eyes and swallow. he smiles shorty after and fills your face with kisses.

—

i haven’t posted in over a year, sorry if i’m rusty 🥲

[callsigngrim]

Eldritch Konig xGN reader

MDNI!

The winner of the poll!

Tentacles smut Konig is cocky

No physical description of reader no description of gender.

Please enjoy!

The cave was dark and moist. Filled with the sound of pitter patter from the storm raging outside. Of Course you just had to go on a hike in the middle of nowhere alone.

It also didn't help that you felt like you were being watched.

Sighing you walk into the cave deeper hoping to find a dry patch where you could hopefully make a small fire and try to get some sleep without freezing to death.

As you make your way deeper into the cave you're amazed to find the walls of the cave lined with drawings!

They looked old depicting people who seem to be worshipping some sort of otherworldly creature. It looks huge adorned in gold with tentacles sprouting from its back?

You shake your head. Deciding that the small patch of dry ground near the end of the cave would be sufficient enough. You quickly pile the wood you had briskly grabbed onto the floor using some dry leaves a kindling to get the fire going.

It's slowly starting to get a little warmer. Enough that you can take off the heavy jacket that was completely drenched from the heavy pelts of rain.

You use your bag as a makeshift pillow while you snuggle into your sleeping bag.

It wasn't ideal laying on the ground with who knows what crawling around but you were too tired to care. You just hoped you didn't wake up with spiders in your hair. As you shifted to get into a more comfortable position you didn't pay any attention to the walls that seemingly started to glow a faint yellow. Nor did you see the tentacles painted on the walls start to move. Twisting and curling away from the paint. 

And forming into solid pieces. The creature that had previously just been a painting had magically emerged hidden in the shadows watching the frail little human.

You were a tempting little thing shivering from the cold. Oh he couldn't wait to warm you up. After all, you were the one who set him free. 

You were shaking from the cold, the fire having long since burned out leaving a few glowing embers that hardly gave any heat.

You were going to die. Alone and cold with a bunch of weird paintings on the wall… Were the fuck were the paintings?

As you're laying there trying to figure out if you've officially lost your mind due to the cold. Sometimes in the corner catches your eye. A massive form is standing there in the shadows and it's definitely looking at you. Glowing red eyes piercing through the darkness. You make a move to get up before you realise that something has slithered it way around your legs and arms.

You jolt screaming begging for whatever has you to please let go!

"Careful" the word echoes through your mind. It sounds human enough but you know it's not. No human is that big or has extra appendages sprouting from their backs.

"Please don't hurt me" you whisper hoping that the monster will spare you.

The tentacle have started slithering around you pulling the sleeping bag off and lifting you effortlessly into the air

"I will not harm you small human I simply wish to repay you for setting me free" that damn voice echoing in your head again.

"Repay me how'? "why"?

I didn't do anything you plead.

The dark tendrils pull you closer to the creature holding you at eye level. "Ah but you did you freed me from these walls and for that I have to repay you little one".

You swallow thickly it's unnerving being this close to the creature. It's watching you waiting for you to reply.

You could struggle but what if it decides to kill you if you try to fight?

"How would you repay me"? You regret asking the moment the monster's eyes start glowing even brighter.

"With pleasure little one" its voice comes out almost like a purr.

Gods this is terrifying  and humiliating at the same time. "If I let you pleasure me you have to promise not to kill me".

The creature seems taken aback.

"Why would I hurt such a sweet little thing"? It sounds almost amused.

"I'll have you begging me to take you over and over again sweet thing". You let out a whimper at that. Fuck that's not supposed to turn me on you think.

As if sensing your sudden arousal. The creature lets out a growl. "Konig" it says and you're left confused.

"My name sweet one so you know what to scream after I make you come on my cock"

"Fuck" you moan out he's someking of eldritch monster who could rip you to pieces at any given moment. But here you are dangling from its tentacles moaning like some whore.

"Please take me"

Different things happen all at once. Konig moves forward pulling you in for a kiss that leaves you absolutely breathless. Its not sweet or soft no its primal almost possessive in the way his long thick tongue explores your mouth. Next is the way the tentacles wrapped around you rip away your clothes and underwear none too gently leaving you exposed to the cold.

Then you pulled impossibly close to the creature as two more of his tentacles start exploring your exposed body, finally stopping at your nipples. They start twisting and pulling leaving your nipples hard and sensitive.

You panting when he pulls away only to let out a gasp as the tentacles that are wrapped around you legs spread you open leaving you completely exposed to Konig.

He lets out an appreciative growl. Slowly one of his tentacles move down to circle your entrance. The tentacle is covered in a thin layer of slime that it spreads around your hole slicking it up. Before it slowly starts to enter you inch by inch. You're moaning his name just like he promised. The two tentacles that are toying with you nipples start to speed up twisting and pulling leaving you high of the pleasure your subjected to.

It feels so good the way he moves you how he wants and how you entire body feels on fire everywhere he touches you

You're so lost in the pleasure that you don't see his huge cock leaking all over your belly as he moves you up and down his tentacles preparing you for what's to come.

"Fuck please I'm so close" your so close teetering on the edge just a little more and you be coming.

"Yes little one come for me show me how good it feels".

It hits you hard you're screaming his name as you ride out your orgasm.

You breathless but he's not finished yet.

He pulls his tentacle out of you slowly while you moan at the loss of him inside you.

He grabs you in his arms you back pressed against his toned chest.

You don't have time to catch your breath before he pushes inside you bottoming out in one swift stroke. He's big, filling you completely. You can feel every vein on his cock as he starts thrusting into you. His pace is brutal as he slams into murming soft praises as he fucked you deep and hard.

You were both moaning lost in the throes of pleasure. He was filling you up so well. You didn't have a single thought in your head.

"Fuck I'm close little one come with me let me feel you"

You both came yelling out as he filled you to the brim with his seed. Gods it felt amazing so much so that you blacked out from the intense orgasm you were having.

Looking down at your slumped form Konig couldn't help but chuckle. Poor little thing couldn't handle the pleasure he gave them.

Pulling the sleeping bag closer Konig layed down with you on top completely knocked out; he covered your sleeping form with the bag to keep you warm. You were so small compared to him. Knocked out from taking his cock once.

"I suppose we're going to have to work on that won't we little one soon you won't be able to get enough of my cock"...

[tadpolesonalgae]

Azriel x reader: Set You Down[*]

A/N: If he brought out a whip—

Warnings: intense impact play, don’t actually know the term for it but use of paddles crops/paddles/whipping instruments, safewords, blood, a gag of sorts, mentions of implied torture, Lady and the Tramp moment.

You can’t help it.

A scream rips from your throat as he brings down the riding crop on the already raw expanse of your back.

Mind-numbing pleasure crackles beneath your skin, melting to white-hot heat between your thighs as he degrades you, riding you out.

Azriel’s hand is fisted in your hair, keeping you on your hands and knees, even as your arms threaten to give out from the sheer intensity of euphoria he’s slamming into you, pounding every ounce he can give into your dripping wet heat.

The gag is slick with saliva and tears, teeth sinking into the cloth as your jaw trembles from the force of him—putting his weight behind every sharp buck of his hips.

Another smack of the crop has your back curving, mewling into the rag. He’s getting more comfortable with your request—raising the strength of the whips.

His shadows roll over your puffy clit, and you give out, his darkness already wrapping snuggly around your upper body to keep you where he wants you. Keeping you positioned correctly, so he can focus on using you, fucking into your cunt just how he likes.

Azriel will try anything you ask for at least once—the mother knows you’ve done it enough for him. Every time he suggests something, you practically pounce at the opportunity to please him, getting off on his pleasure so tremendously. He doesn’t feel like he owes you this, but he wants to give it to you.

Almost every kink he’s served up to you, you’ve swallowed down greedily, lapping at your fingers once finished. It makes his knees tremble, how eager your are sometimes. With things so many others have turned him down on over the past—no fault on them.

So he should be able to handle some light whipping, right?

It’s surprisingly strenuous…taxing, almost. But he can push through. He can scent how heavy your arousal is, a fresh wave washing over him with every crack of the leather against your smooth, delicate skin. Turning it shades of raw pink, beaten red, before it starts healing over.

Every time he’s strengthened the hits, you’ve moaned louder, sounding needier and needier with each harsh smack to your back.

It’s when he hits down harder and—blood spills.

A pained whimper whispers from your throat, bucking your hips back against his as your eyes are squeezed shut in ecstasy, tipping your head back into his fist with pure, feminine delight.

His world seems to spin, then stop entirely. He’s seen blood before. Countless times. All Fae bleed the same. Half-breed, half-born, man, woman, child—always run red. The tang hits him, and he’s back in those chambers. Those dark, dark dungeons. A figure strapped to a table, a blade gleaming in his scarred hand, the acrid scent just before they give—

Azriel doesn’t even realise the word he’s been murmuring softly on repeat, tapping at your back until you’ve pried the crop from his hand, cupping his jaw. You’ve already undone the bow of the gag, slipping it from your mouth, leaving raw slashes either side of your plump lips.

“Azriel…” you whisper hoarsely, wiping away the remaining tears from your eyes as you look at him firmly. “I’m here,” you murmur, thumbs stroking his cheeks, bringing him out of his head. “Hey.” His eyes regain their awareness—somewhat. “Look at me. Look at me, Az. I’m okay. You’re okay. We’re both safe.”

His shaky hands settle on your waist, fingers trembling as they make to embrace you—pull you close to him, so he can fundamentally understand you’re okay. His heart sinks to the pit of his stomach as you place a hand over his chest, preventing him from doing so. He’d gone too far. He just knows he crossed a line with you. Drawing blood—

“Give her a few minutes and she’ll be right as rain,” you murmur, sweetly brushing the pads of your fingers over his skin. You lean forward, pressing your lips to the moonlight paths down his cheeks, like silver threads.

Your hands move to the nape of his neck, and he can feel himself shudder, wings trembling behind him, going from taut to relaxed in a matter of moments. Your fingers tangle in the dark, inky locks of hair at the top of his spine, and he softens beneath your touch.

His breathing is shaky, but he manages, dragging in deep breaths, counting, and releasing them. “It’s okay,” you soothe, stroking his hair, bringing him to the crook of your neck. “Want to check?” He’s not sure he can bear to look. Manage that movement.

“Let your shadows have a look, Az. I’m fine. We’re both okay.”

He hadn’t even realised how tight he’d pulled them, reeling them in until they’d barely been noticeable.

With a heavy sigh, he releases his grip on them, and they gush outward, snaking down over the bed, through the sheets. He almost hisses with the waves of information, but then they start twining around you, and he begins to relax.

It’s a pleasant coolness, really. Like silk made more…like air. They brush and drag over your skin, cataloguing your temperature, heart rate, emotion. The puffiness of your eyes, the red rawness of your back—steadily healing, the plump flush still obvious on your mouth.

“I’m sorry, Az,” you mumble, fingers playing with his dark hair as he grips onto you desperately. “I shouldn’t have rushed you. We should have gone slower with something new. That was my fault.”

“No,” he rasps, the word dragging from his throat. “It’s not—”

“Azriel,” you whisper, planting a kiss to the top of his head. “You can cry.” His vision blurs, eyes feeling heavy as heat washes through him.

You feel the steady drip drop of tears against your shoulder, and you hold him a little tighter. The tremors subside a little, but he’s still shuddering, so you continue pressing kisses into him, continue showing that quiet affection he uses for you in his solid, steadfast way.

“I love you, Az.” He nods against your shoulder, as if confirming with himself you said that. “So much.” More kisses, more tears. More shudders and tremors.

Eventually, you cup his jaw, lifting his gaze to your own. Both of you have puffy eyes, lashes wet as you stare at each other.

You press a kiss to his forehead. To the arch of his brow. The corner of his eye. The bridge of his nose, down to its tip. The crest of his cheek. The shell of his ear. Beneath his jaw. The column of his neck. Just below his lips, then at their edge.

“Lie down for me,” you mumble, shifting so he can settle on the bed. “Rest for a bit. I’m going to get us some food and drink, then we can just…be together, for a while.” He lays on his stomach, and you tuck the soft sheets over him, until they’re just beneath his wings. You press a kiss to his temple before quietly padding off the the kitchen.

He takes the chance to try and collect himself, taking in deep, sweeping breaths before exhaling. He’s with you. You’re safe. You aren’t upset or angry with him. You’re okay.

When you return, you’re armed with a tray, carrying a bottle of cordial, two glasses with ice within, and a large bowlful of—something. A smaller bowl is to the side but he can’t make it out.

“How’re you feeling, Az?” You say, setting the tray down beside him. He could moan at the food, if he had the energy. Pasta with a red sauce, salad on the side—seasoned with oil, vinegar and some other herbs. He thinks he can spot some salt and pepper in there too. “Better, now you’ve made something so delicious,” he manages, rolling over to sit upright.

He examines the salad, the tight tomatoes, the crisp cucumbers, the salad that looks so fresh— “you grew these. They’re from the garden.” Your lips quirk into a smile.

“I noticed some were good for eating this morning. I hope they’re nice.”

Azriel swallows, looking at you. “You haven’t tried them yet.”

You smile wider, “I thought they’d make a nice, refreshing treat.” His heart softens, memories of the events just past already beginning to fade. He takes one of the two smaller forks, and stabs a tomato, crunching it between his teeth. His eyes flutter with pleasure and satisfaction coils in your stomach.

“Good?” You ask, softly—nervously.

“So good.” He groans, already moving for some cucumber. You laugh with relief, picking up your own fork, moving in on the food. Both of you pick at each dish, clasping the wooden sticks between your fingers as you feed the linguine to yourselves.

Azriel groans at the mouthful, a deep-throated sound of pleasure that has you flushing at the quiet approval. Tomato and mascarpone sauce with mixed herbs and some dried parsley—he’d mentioned he’d liked it once.

You’re both so engrossed in the food you don’t notice you share a strand of the pasta until it forms a tightrope between your mouths. Azriel flushes, about to bite down to let you take it, but you lean across the tray, bringing your lips to his. He blushes—blushes—when you set a kiss to his lips, tongue flicking out over the edge of his mouth where a tiny spot of sauce lies.

He laughs, raising his hand to cup your jaw, thumb brushing beneath your mouth, swiping gently, before he laps at the skin.

You pull away, returning to your seated position as you watch him, keenly. “How are you feeling now?”

Azriel halts his ministrations, lowering the fork laden with tomato and avocado back to the bowl. “Better.” His eyes flick to yours. “I wouldn’t mind…trying again. But I can’t drawn blood. It’s too much for me.” Maybe in a few weeks, he’ll feel more comfortable with reattempting it, but until then…

You nod, “okay.” You return to eating, lips quirking at their edges.

He watches silently for a little, waiting for you to add to that. Maybe to push him a bit to feel him out.

“You’re content to leave it at that?” He asks when you don’t make to continue the exchange. You nod in response, “you’ve given me your answer.”

“And how do you feel?” He asks, shadows watching you with relentless focus.

This time you set your fork down. “I’m naturally a little disappointed we didn’t click on this one. But I hate the idea of you going through something unpleasant for the sake of my pleasure—I think it would make me quite unhappy. If we continued, I mean.”

“You don’t want to try it again?” He deflates, feeling a little like he failed you. It’s not often you bring up new things to try.

“Perhaps in a few months…” you hedge, eyes flicking about before settling on his. “Was it just when I bled, or was it before that, too?” He swallows, but he can’t lie to you. “A little before that,” he admits. Your mouth tightens, but you keep your expression neutral. “This isn’t meant to sound accusatory, but why didn’t you say anything before?”

“I…” He hesitates. Thinking. “I like making you feel good.”

“At your own expense, though?” He shrugs lightly, and can feel the moment your look turns into a slight glare before softening. “You can tell me those things, Azriel.” You mumble, settling your hand over top his own—he doesn’t flinch away as much any more, though it still takes him by surprise some days. “I like it when you talk to me. It helps me feel like I’m…doing something, for you.”

“You don’t need to do things for me,” he assures, gripping you back. You shake your head, smiling faintly now. “And how would you feel if I said that to you, hm?”

He blinks. “That’s different.”

A laugh bursts from your chest, “no, it’s not.”

“I don’t need you to do things for me.”

“But apparently I do?” You quirk a brow. “I like doing things for you. I like when you talk to me, and when I get to talk to you. I like when we can have conversations, like now. I like being able to do things for you, and I like it when you do things for me. It has a nice energy, like the ebb and flow of waves.”

You lean forward again, pressing a kiss to his lips. “You can’t keep giving, and giving, and giving, Azriel.”

He gives you a look, why not?

You kiss his forehead, cupping his jaw, smiling faintly. “Otherwise your seabed will dry up, and my land will be flooded. You have to let me give back to you sometimes.”

He snickers, and you look down at him. “I quite like the idea of flooding your land,” he smirks.

You smack him on the shoulder.

Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

Holy

Summary: Kappa is very avid in taking care of your needs while it's your time of the month.

Pairing: Kappa x fem!Reader

Word Count: ~1.3k

Content Warnings: Period Sex Smut 18+!, A Lot Of Period Blood, Kappa’s Intense Blood Kink, Body Worship, Blood Worship (???), Kappa Being A Soft Pervert, Fingering, Unprotected P In V

A/N: Strawberry Pop Tart, anyone? 🍓

Tagging the horny horde:

@crypticsewerslut @quicksilversg1rl @alalalaaallaaalaaa @bvg-w1res @milsthouqhts @amayalul @roryculkinsbf @roryculkinsgf @spookyorchid

I'm coiled up like the venomous serpent

Tangled in your trance and I'm certain

You have got your hooks in me

- Rain By Sleep Token

A well familiar, dull pain tugging and pulling in your lower abdomen worked its way to your consciousness, forcing you to open your sleepy eyes to the first gentle rays of a fresh sunrise. Not fully there yet, you wiggled yourself back underneath the light blanket covering your body, your brows furrowing with the uncomfortable feeling emitting from deep within.

You squinted with half-lidded eyes while listening to your body, slowly deciphering the sensation.

“Again already?” You groaned under your breath, rolling your eyes in a thoroughly annoyed way whilst one of your hands curiously wandered between your legs.

It wasn’t even necessary for your fingertips to plunge right amid your thighs because you felt the warm, sticky wetness running down the curve of it already.

A low sigh fell from your lips as you pulled your hand back to hold it in front of your eyes. A saturated layer of deep red covering your fingertips all the way to the knuckle.

“No..”, You murmured into the blanket, “It’s way too early for this shit.”

With that you decided to simply let it be as it was. You knew that your thighs were a mess already and the cleaning up could certainly wait a little longer.

“Nope, no.” You reassured yourself as you scurried further back on the mattress, gently pushing your backside against Kappa's warm body that eagerly cupped yours.

“You okay, babe?” His sleep-drunk voice whispered into your ear.

“Hm…”, You hesitated for a moment, “Yeah, kinda.”

“Not exactly convincing..” Kappa murmured into the nape of your neck.

“I’m in pain.” Before the words even fully left your lips, you felt Kappa shifting behind you.

“What pain?” His tone was serious.

“I’m on my period, Kappa.” You stated bluntly.

“Oh…” He pulled you into a close embrace, your back firmly clutched against his chest.

"Do you want me to help with that?" The forming grin in his face was clearly audible.

"Please do so." You answered, grinning to yourself, too, as you enjoyed how the warmth from his skin seeped right through your back, drawing a bit of attention from the dull pangs of pain already.

"Show me where it hurts, babe." Kappa's hand playfully nudged yours, indicating you to guide him where you wanted to feel him and that you did.

With fingers intertwined, the plenty of his rings sitting right above his knuckles cold against your skin, you pulled his hand across the round of your thighs, through wayward blood splatters and smears, right against your swollen clit. A quiet moan rolled over your tongue as you felt his fingertips stroking over it carefully, sensually even.

"Shit…", Kappa groaned into the back of your head, "You get so damn cute and all sensitive when you're on your period and I fucking love it!"

His fingers drew a couple of careful circles around your clit before dipping in further, spearheading between your slick and blood-tainted folds to push all the way into the epicenter of your discomfort.

You felt them drilling into you, his fingers getting soaked in your rapidly building arousal and warm, fresh blood as they caressed and massaged you from the inside.

"How does that feel, babe?" He rested his chin in the crook of your neck, the barely even there stubbles grazing over your skin.

"Feels good." You whispered in return, holding back a moan of pleasure and pain relief.

"That's good.", Kappa placed a soft kiss on your shoulder, inviting you to let your head fall back whilst his fingers slowly pushed in and out of you, "There we go…relax, I'll take good care of that sore, little pussy, don't you worry."

Hearing him lull you in like that had you closing your eyes, concentrating on how he sent little jolts of blissful pleasure through your body with every tiny movement of his fingertips against your oversensitive walls. He took his time to ease you up, to relax the cramping muscles, getting you stretched out and sufficiently wet before asking: "How would you like it if I did just that with my cock, that is rock fucking hard for you right now, while I rub your needy, swollen clit, babe? C'mon, press that pretty ass into my crotch."

Without any hesitation you arched your back, effectively grinding your behind into his lap as soon as he pulled his soaked fingers from your pulsing cunt, moving them up to your clit. An avalanche of breathy moans cascaded from your shaky lips as you felt him slowly thrust his girthy, hard cock into you whilst his nimble fingers worked your clit like it was an instrument for him to play.

"I love it when you cover me in your blood like that. It's all you, your essence." ,Kappa mumbled as soon as he had shoved himself all the way in, "Fucking holy if you ask me. The holy sacrament of human bleeding."

You knew how much he was into blood and in a strange way you were too because for one week it made him all soft for you. During that week even more than ever he wouldn't let anything he didn't approve of get even remotely close to you. For one week a month you actually felt like you were special to him.

"Does that feel good, yeah? Fuck, you're getting so tight around me already, pulling me in so fucking hard." It emitted from his lungs in a guttural groan oozing with lust.

He was right about that, you could feel it too. Your cunt clenching and tightening with every further languid thrust into you. Your entire body was on high alert, every nerve ending already sore and oversensitive, letting you feel every brief twitch and pulse of his cock deep inside of you.

"Such a poor, needy little thing." The tip of his middle finger flicked over your clit again and again, hitting just the right spot to let your body tremble with the oncoming orgasm, to have you seeing starts behind closed eyes.

"C'mon, cum on my cock, babe." Kappa groaned into your ear as the first contractions went straight to your head, washing all of the pain out of your body for a few, blissfully sweet seconds.

"That's it, right there.", His voice turned sore as he started fucking you through your orgasm, "Fuck, I love the feeling of your cunt milking me like that, shit!"

He thrusted into you from behind at a rapid pace, his lap slapping against your ass again and again until his rhythm started faltering.

A deep moan of his hit your neck as you felt him coming undone buried deep inside of you, spilling white-hot ropes of his cum into the mixture of your release and your blood.

"Fucking hell, can't last long with your pretty pussy so tight around me." He huffed under his breath, pressing light kisses to your skin as both of you slowly came down from your high.

"But I promise, I'll give you so much more of that until I fucked all the pain out of you, babe."

[multi-fan-dom-madness]

hello dear. for the kiss prompts, may i please see ‘a possessive kiss in the rain’ with crosshair? 👀

hiiii friend, thank you so much for your patience for the wait. the muse has been extra fickle since October, but I hope this is worth the wait <3

Uncertain Tomorrows

Summary: Actions speak louder than words. Aka, Crosshair isn't good at emotions.

Warnings: blog is 18+; angst (it's Crosshair, what do you expect), miscommunication / lack of communication, pre-Echo, swearing

Word Count: 688

Chewing on the inside of your cheek so hard you’re liable to draw blood, you can’t help the way you’re glaring at Crosshair’s back. He’s perched on the edge of a high stool at the bar, long legs crossed at the ankle, twirling a whiskey glass between thin fingers. You’re supposed to be enjoying shore leave, the first one the squad has had in months, and yet all you feel is pissy. 

Earlier in the night, you’d deboarded the Marauder with the others, all of you in civvies and in high spirits, even Crosshair. You feel like you’ve finally been able to get a decent grasp on reading him and his moods, and the loose way his toothpick had hung between his lips was clear indication that he was relaxed, ready for a break. You all were. 

Apparently, Crosshair’s idea of a break is chatting up women at the cantina bar. 

You’re not together. You have to remind yourself of that. Despite the mutual longing glances, neither of you have acted on your feelings, whether by mutual respect for one another or by fear of tearing the squad apart. So it shouldn’t sting as much as it does to watch him toss easy smirks at the pretty woman at the bar right now. 

But it does. 

Hunter gives you a sympathetic look as you finally decide you’ve had enough and scoot out of the booth. With Wrecker across the cantina hustling pool and Tech acting as his number two, the only one who will know where you’ve gone at this point is Hunter. Which also shouldn’t sting, but it does. 

The moment you step outside, you’re met with a bone-chilling rain. Breath fogging in front of your face, you shiver, pulling your jacket tighter around you. The spaceport isn’t too terribly far, but you’re already beginning to regret coming outside. 

Whatever. It beats going back inside.

You only make it a few steps, ice needling into your skin, before the cantina door opens behind you. Warm light and laughter spill out, inviting you back. Glancing over your shoulder, you grimace. 

“I’m going back to the ship,” you call. 

“I know,” Crosshair responds.

“You should go back in,” you say, turning to face forward once more, hunching your shoulders against the cold. “She looked nice.” 

He calls your name, but you keep walking. 

You gasp when a hand grips your upper arm and spins you around. Colliding with Crosshair’s chest, you glare up at him and open your mouth to rip him a new one—

Only to grunt in surprise when his lips meet yours. 

Jerking back, you try to break from his embrace. His hands remain on your arms, though he lets you step back. 

“What the fuck, Cross?” you snarl. “You think it’s cool to just—toy with my emotions like this?” 

“No,” he grits out. 

You wait, but that seems to be all he wants to say. Rain streams down your face, the cold an afterthought now with the anger burning through you. 

“That all you have to say for yourself?”

His jaw works as he gazes at you, his short gray hair plastered to his head. Nostrils flaring, he looks away. “No. I’m—I’m not good at this. Clearly. But I don’t know—I don’t know how to—Kriff it! Can I kiss you again or not?” 

All of your anger condenses into a single burning, molten dagger in your heart as you stand there, jaw dropped as you weigh his words. This is so far from how you ever would have expected this confession to go, for either of you, and yet the opportunity is here. If you let it go, tell him no, he’s going to respect that. 

And you’ll have missed your shot. 

You pull him back to you and kiss him. It’s a hungry, desperate, possessive kiss, full of teeth and tongue. Cold rain water sluices off your skin as you swallow his moan. 

You don’t know what this means—you don’t know where to go from here—but Crosshair is in your embrace, and all you know is that you don’t intend to let him go.

Ragu: @dystopicjumpsuit @clonemedickix @littlemissmanga @wolffegirlsunite @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @sinfulsalutations @523rdrebel @sunshinesdaydream @moonlightwarriorqueen @sev-on-kamino @starrylothcat @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @mandos-mind-trick @idontgetanysleep @eyeluvmusic21 @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sleepycreativewriter @bobaprint @dickarchivist @a-single-tulip @thorsterstrudle @droids-you-are-looking-for @goblininawig @cw80831 @mssbridgerton @dreamie411 @jedi-hawkins @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @9902sgirl

[vampcubus]

your ralph headcannons are my kryptonite, i love them so much. Could you do kiss head cannons with ralph or connor? pretty please !

a/n: why not… BOTH. on my knees begging for forgiveness it’s been months I’m so sorry, I hope this is adequate!

also if y’all want more dbh characters for this prompt I’m game 👀 just ask

KISS HCS | ralph & connor

Ralph (WR600)

— a shy but enthusiastic kisser! the very first time you kiss him you think you did something wrong because he immediately starts to cry, but it’s happy tears I promise! You must forgive Ralph, he’s so easily overwhelmed by emotion.

— While Ralph definitely isn’t shy about asking for kisses after he’s grown used to it, he’s still the type to stare at your lips and get all flustered when you catch him looking. You can only grin and lean in extra close, lips a hair away from his before you ask him if he perhaps 👉👈 wants a kiss. And he always shudders, before muttering a “yes please.”

— honestly way too fucking cute, always gets what he wants from you- often with just a pitiful look.

— His favorite way to kiss you is softly, slowly, and sickeningly sweetly. The kind you pull away from and just stare at each other afterwards with that lovesick puppy look.

— Ralph will actually sob if you kiss over his scars.

— Kisses are 100% a part of his routine, a kiss hello and a kiss goodbye at the very least, and if you forget he will chase you out the door for his kiss he don’t play.

— And if you haven’t been smooching him as often he will overthink and assume he’s surely done something wrong to not deserve them. Imagine your surprise when you come home and he’s throwing himself at you, sobbing and begging you to tell him what he’s done wrong. And you cup his coolant-stained face and ask him what could possibly make him think you’re upset with him, he says “W-well you didn’t kiss me goodbye today and-“

— Please don’t skimp on smooches please he’s sensitive.

Connor (RK800)

— Connor might be a little obsessed with kissing, and you absolutely tease him about it.

— and he always says the most endearing shit in response like “I like kissing you 🥺” which is reason enough to marry this man on sight.

— The first time you kissed Connor you thought you broke him, because he was so still and just stared when you pulled away, as if in a trance. As if you’d just changed his whole world— and you did! His hands catch your face before it strays too far and his lips are on yours again. You don’t remember how long you spent on the roof kissing him in the pouring rain but you remember how breathless you felt walking back to your apartment that night, lips bruised and tingling.

— Your favorite part about kissing Connor has to be the longing look he gives you every time you pull away, more often than not his lips chase yours and drag you back into a vicious cycle of sharing spit in places you absolutely SHOULDN’T be sucking face. You’ve been told to get a room by Hank at too many crime scenes.

— You were never big on PDA before entering a relationship with Connor, but the android had a way of drawing you in and getting you into trouble way too easily. Too often you didn’t even remember who leaned in first, or what you were doing before he was sighing into your mouth and smiling against your lips.

— Connor is a big fan of tongue-kissing too, he really can’t help it. Mans is obsessed with tasting you. His tongue is a strange texture but it’s hardly a deterrent when you’ve got him pressed between your warm body and the wall of an alley and his hands are everywhere. Lightly tug his bottom lip between your teeth and he’s lost to the world, groaning out loud. It drives him crazy.

— He’s definitely partial to kissing your lips, but he’ll leave soft kisses to your forehead or the back of your shoulder when he passes by. Doesn’t realize he does it most of the time.

[stupidfuckingwindow]

Captive // Driver

Content/warnings: NSFW, premature ejaculation king Driver. Bondage, technically. Starts out normal, ends horny as all hell.

Notes: I'd meant to write this a while ago. Me n the Goosecord (namely @uncleclam from what I remember) talked briefly about this particular scenario a WHILE ago. Driver is fucking gorgeous, I could write about him for eternity.

Word count: 664

His apartment is cold as you enter it; Painfully barren in a way that reminds you of just who he is- Someone who's paranoid and prepared to pack his few things up and go at a moment's notice. Everything he owns can easily be slid into the trunk or backseat of his car, and you're sure he doesn't have any attachment or care for half of said things. It's all just objects that can be replaced for him, nothing that matters or can get him framed.

But he doesn't seem to mind the distance. It's perfectly convenient for him; makes things easier if he doesn't have to care. You don't even know if he has family (you doubt it, anyhow,) based on the way he doesn't keep any pictures that might allude to his past or who he is. Everything about him is either confusing or left unsaid, and there's plenty of room to assume.

For whatever reason, though, he likes you. Long late night drives are common between you and he, often spurred on when the two of you can't sleep. Driver sometimes comes to your apartment, whenever you're asleep. Just to watch you; make sure you're alright before he has to go do another job, when he won't be able to see you. Even after he's done with that, he'll come back to check on you for another hour before he leaves to do whatever else he does at night.

In ways, he's similar to that of a lonely street cat- coming and going as he pleases. He's distant whenever he doesn't trust a person, and similarly distant when he does. But the difference is how he carries himself when around whomever he's nearest to. You've noticed that he's still drawn in when it's just the two of you, but he lets you do whatever you want. He doesn't resist your touches, so long as there's no one else around. You see him pluck the toothpick from his lips whenever he's around you, sometimes pulls off his gloves or lets you wear his jacket.

It's the reason why you're in his apartment in the first place; Trust.

Little to no noise permeates his temporary home. Anything of note came from outside, having seeped through the windows. Things like rain and cars on the street bring a slight lonesome feel to the apartment, desolate and uncomfortably quiet after too long. But that's how most things in Driver's life tend to be; fleeting and something in passing.

You walk a little further inside, locking the door behind you. Your steps are light, slow- But not cautious. The scent of rain sticks to your skin, and your hair is slightly damp. It sticks to the sides of your face and your forehead. You don't see Driver, yet, but you know he's here; The door was unlocked.. And you'd left him here. You know exactly where the man is, but you want him to wait- To be anticipatory for whatever you'd do next to him.

He glowers up at you through his lashes as soon as you come in, blues glaring into your figure. Despite his expression, he's anything but angry at you. Frustration burns hot in his lower half, settling over his skin in a way that stings. He's been tied to this goddamn chair for two hours too many, erection standing tall and pretty against his stomach just for you, all while you'd gone off to fuck around and have fun with arrands. His jacket envelops his bare shoulders in a way that doesn't help at all with his burning sexual frustrations, and it's all he's wearing besides his gloves.

He'd already cum once, just from thinking about you finally getting back. The evidence of his orgasm has painted Driver's chest and abdomen white. His chin lifts, a little, to look you in the eyes when you draw closer. Wordlessly, he bites the soft inner skin of his cheek. Waiting for what you'll say.

[gffa]

I AM IN REAL FUCKING TEARS ABOUT THIS COMIC I KNEW IT WAS GOING TO BE GOOD BECAUSE DARTH VADER’S DIARY IS ALREADY A HELL OF A PREMISE NOTHING MAKES ME HAPPIER THAN MAKING FUN OF THE TERRIBLE PERSON THAT DARTH VADER IS AND WHEN IT STARTS OUT WITH “I was summoned to his quarters earlier to remove a corpse and found it under, y’know, some ‘magazines’.” I KNEW I WAS IN FOR A RIDE. AND BOY WAS I. “He’ll never know.  His place is such a mess, he’ll think he just misplaced it or something.” I’M CRYING, ANAKIN STILL HAS THE JUNKIEST ROOM NO MATTER IF HE’S LIVING IN THE JEDI TEMPLE OR ON THE DEATH STAR, PERFECT CHARACTERIZATION

“Got a new helmet today!  A better fit than the last, and I don’t get so hot and sweaty.” IF YOU ASKED ME TO WRITE ANAKIN SKYWALKER’S DIARY AS DARTH VADER I COULD NOT HAVE WRITTEN A FUNNIER LINE THAN JONATHAN ADAMS HAS WRITTEN “HE MISSPELLED NIGHTMARE” PLEASE, HAVE MERCY ON ME, I’M ACTUALLY CRYING RIGHT NOW AND THEN THE SWERVING BETWEEN INSIGHTFUL COMMENTARY ABOUT LUKE BUT THEN ALSO “HOW DO I TELL HIM I’M HIS FATHER?  ‘HEY, YOUR MOM AND I USED TO DATE.”?” ANAKIN.  ANAKIN, PLEASE.

“GROWING UP WITHOUT A FATHER OF MY OWN, I CAN’T BE EXPECTED TO KNOW HOW ONE WOULD ACT.  I’M NOT THAT WORRIED; I TURNED OUT FINE.” ANAKIN. “IF HE REJECTS ME, I DON’T KNOW.  I’M NOT GOOD WITH REJECTION, I MAY HAVE TO KILL HIM.” WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS, ANAKIN. I MEAN, I KNOW WHY, BUT.  WHY. “MY TENDENCIES ARE ALWAYS TOWARDS PESSIMISM.  IT’S AMAZING I’VE GOTTEN SO FAR IN LIFE.” HELP, THAT IS 100000% AN ANAKIN SKYWALKER THING TO SAY. AND THEN THE DRAWINGS IN HIS DIARY, CASUAL REMINDER ANAKIN SKYWALKER TOTALLY WAS AN ARTIST I’LL DIE ON THAT HILL, AND OF COURSE VADER’S DOODLES ARE... THAT. “SURE, THEY DIDN’T HAVE A PARTY FOR ME LAST YEAR, OR THE YEAR BEFORE.  BUT THEN ALL OF THOSE STORMTROOPERS ARE DEAD NOW, SO EACH YEAR BRINGS NEW HOPE.” IF ANYONE TRIES TO SAY ANAKIN SKYWALKER IS NOT THE FUNNIEST PERSON YOU’VE EVER MET, YOU ARE WRONG

VADER WALKING THROUGH THE HALLS BEING MAD NOBODY GAVE HIM A BIRTHDAY PARTY JUST STARING AT THEM AND THEN CREEPILY WALKING AWAY TO GO SULK IN HIS BEDROOM “I’M SO DEPRESSED, I JUST WANT TO SLEEP FOREVER.  WELL, MAYBE IT’S A LITTLE THAT I HAVEN’T SLEPT THE PAST THREE DAYS.  JUST A LITTLE.” ANAKIN SKYWALKER, ANAKIN SKYWALKER, ANAKIN SKYWALKER

FACE DOWN ON THE FLOOR VADER YOU CAN PUT HIM ON ROBO STILTS AND YOU CAN PUT A DEATH’S HEAD MASK ON HIM AND YOU CAN CHANGE HIS VOICE AND YOU CAN DEEP FRY HIM IN THE DARK SIDE BUT THAT IS STILL ANAKIN FUCKING SKYWALKER RIGHT THERE HE HASN’T EATEN ANYTHING OTHER THAN CHEESE CURLS IN THE LAST 18 HOURS NOW YOU KNOW OBI-WAN’S PAIN AT TRYING TO GET THIS NERD TO EAT ANYTHING EVEN RESEMBLING A VEGETABLE AND I 100% BELIEVE ANAKIN WOULD FIND A WAY TO STILL EAT NOTHING BUT CHEESE CURLS EVEN WITH THE SUIT HE’S A MECHANICAL GENIUS AND HE’S THE MOST DETERMINED IDIOT YOU’LL EVER KNOW HE WOULD FIND A WAY AND THEN EAT NOTHING BUT CHEETOS, I BELIEVE IN HIM

THE ABSOLUTE CONFUSION ON HIS FACE WHEN SOMEONE SAYS HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO HIM IT IS RAINING ON MY FACE BECAUSE I LAUGHED SO HARD I CRIED GOD I LOVE THIS WEIRD NERD ASSHOLE HE IS THE BEST AND IF HE WOULDN’T KILL ME FOR KNOWING ABOUT IT I WOULD TOTALLY JOIN HIM ON THE CHEESE CURL COVERED FLOOR WHEN HE’S FEELING DOWN

[st-danger]

saint. please. this video. sub swiss with the biggest heart eyes for mean top rain, he'd do a n y t h i n g for that ghoul, on his knees just from the tone in rain's voice

The first connection of Rain's hand to his cheek makes him gasp. The second slap, harder than before, makes him moan. He stares up at Rain from his knees, which will be stiff and sore by the time Rain deigns to allow him up. Looks into indifferent eyes and a nasty smirk, glittering behind curly strands of hair that fall into his face.

"Can't help yourself, can you." Not a question.

"You're gorgeous," Swiss says, reverent, and braces himself for another slap when Rain reaches forward. This time, however, it comes to rest gentle on his face, and then Rain's shoving long fingers between his lips, petting at his tongue. Swiss throbs.

"You're going to suck me off, right here," Rain tells him, and immediately Swiss is reaching for his belt buckle, so eager to please. He really can't help himself; Rain gets under his skin like no one else, makes him want to fall at his feet and bare his neck like a sacrifice. He pulls Rain's cock out, only half hard still, and begins stroking him, coaxing him hard. Unable to use his mouth yet as Rain still has his fingers inside of it.

"You're slutty," Rain announces. "Not like Dew. He just wants to get his dick wet. You, though..." He pauses to draw a long, pleasured breath. "You get weak." He pulls his fingers from Swiss's mouth, wet with saliva, and wipes off directly on Swiss's face.

"Want you so much," Swiss agrees.

"What's it like, having this little self-control? Does anyone else know?" Then, mean, "Should we tell them how your little cock gets fat for me and all I have to do is relax and enjoy it?"

"Anything you want," Swiss says, and means it. Means it with every fiber of his being, down to the marrow of his bones.

"I'm gonna fuck your mouth," Rain says, and grabs a nasty fistful of Swiss's hair and tightens until he pulls a hurt, sad sound from his lungs, pulls his head forward and grinds his cock right against Swiss's face. "Open up. Hands behind your back."

Swiss is fine with cruelty, because nothing soothes the teasing like feeling the warm ropes of cum streak his face after.

[cherllyio]

You’re scenarios for parent Pigsy were really fun 🤩

If you take requests could you make something similar for ShadowJadePeach (Macaque, Wukong, and Nüwa) being parents (or at least awkward step-parent in Macaque’s case) to MK (and maybe Bai He (LBD’s host)).

Please 🙏😊

I would love to! Lets go!

Macaque, Wukong, and Nuwa trying to be parents to MK( plus Bai He)

List:

Macaque and Wukong deal with all their issues, while trying to MK from going Apeshit.

Nuwa thinks she understand humans, because she made them, she doesent

"Nuwa, Wukong and Macaque babysitting Bai He and MK"

MK meets Nuwa for the first time.

The scenarios are mostly silly little stories of them trying to be good parental figures or scenarios that could possibly happen in season 5.

But the last one...

Its a bit diffrent :)

Also, if anyone wanna draw or use any of the scenarios in any way, im completly happy with that! Just tag me, so i can reblog it and love it forever :)

Scenario 1: "Macaque and Wukong deal with all their issues, while trying to stop MK from going Apeshit"

This is acutally something, i think, could happen in the show.

So, Macaque and Wukong are trying to deal with all their past issues(which there is a lot of). And tts not going great though, and they end up having an argument again.

Suddenly MK steps into the room. He is really struggling with all the "mystic monkey busniess" going on in his life, so he thinks talking with the "mystic monkeys" would help.

Problem is, Wukong and Macaque are too mad eachother to do anthing to help, other than making it worse soooo. MK just leaves, now having it even worse with his "monkey fate", since earlier he had a small fight with Mei. Nothing big, but with Macaque and Wukong fighting, and them being an awfully lot like him and Mei, he is starting to get scared that they will end up like them. And that he will end up hurting Mei.

So in the middle of MK having this chrisis, a sort of Steven Universe future panic(if you know the refernce), Wukong and Macaque finally come to their senses and reailise something very important. To help MK, they have to understand what went wrong with them, so MK and Mei dont end up on the same road.

And in that way, we get the "Macaque and Wukong backstory" :D

Scenario 2: " Nuwa thinks she understand humans, because she made them, she doesent"

One day, MK goes to pick up Bai He from school(big brother and little sister vibes). Sadly it starts raining(a lot), so they cant get home. (Kinda like this scene from my neighbor Tortoro).

Nuwa sees this and picks them up, where she is then thanked and told that they quickly have to get Bai He home, before her parents get too worried.

But instead of just driving a little bit faster Nuwa goes almost full GOD MODE, and drives faster than fucking Wukong on his cloud. They almost drive several people over, several cars crash into eachother because of it, and a lot of people have gained new trauma because of it.

The kids are screaming, yet Nuwa just interepts this as to go FASTER.

They make it to Bai He's home, safe and sound, but lets just say that MK and Bai He are just gonna wait next time it rains that much.

(The reason MK didnt use his staff? He forgot)

Scenario 3: "Nuwa, Wukong and Macaque babysitting Bai He and MK"

Pigsy was supposed to take care of Bai He, because her parents were doing something that day, but something came up. And MK cant do it, because he accdently broke one of his legs, and Pigsy doesent wanna push him too much because of it.

And since neither Mei, Tang, Sandy or any resbonibly adult he knows, can help, he calls Nuwa, Wukong and Macaque.

The little trio sees this as a great possibilty to get closer to the kids, but its gets a biiiit chaotic with the following things happening:

Macaque gets a bit jelaous, and tries to train MK a bit, yet this ends in MK breaking his arm too(dont ask, neither of them dont know how it happend)

Bai He asks Nuwa if she can help her with her homework. This though ends up in Nuwa crying over Math homework.

Wukong tries to cook some food, but gets too cocky, and ends up making litteral poison, that could kill a god.

Dont worry, they order some Pizza, put on a show and they actually have quite a nice time after that.

Pigsy just finds them sleeping together on the couch, and suspects nothing. (though he was surprised the house wasnt burned down)

Scenario 4: MK meets Nuwa for the first time

On a sunny afternoon MK is driving home, since he had just finished his shift at Pigsys, and after that he would head over to Flower Fruit Mounatin for training.

It was a simple plan, and MK was happy for that.

After everything, that happend in the scroll and with Azure Lion it seemed like everyone wanted to relax just a bit more, before the next big bad came up again.

Then, MK catches something at the conor of his eyes. A shop. A Jade Shop to be more specific.

He doesent, how he is suddenly standing in front of the front door of the shop, or why this compels him so much.

Was it his short attention span? Did he see something of interest? Did he see someone he knew? He doesent know.

Yet as he walks into the shop a wave of fammilarness takes over him. Like he is finally.... home?

The Monkie Kid looks around the small shop. Its crowded with thousands and thousands of jades, that go from the sizes of a little pea, to the size of MK's hand.

There isnt a single costumer in the shop, so MK worries for a second, if he has accdently walked into a place that was already closed, when suddenly...

" Can i help you?"

MK screams in surprise and spins around, only to be met with...

Everything goes quiet.

Time Stops.

And MK's whole world tilts 90 degrees.

He feels like he is about to faint.

He wants to run.

Yet he wants to stay.

What is going on?

"Sir, are you ok?"

The person asks again, and MK tries to speak, but his mouth seems to be unable to utter a single sound.

He tries to focus, trying to concentrate on whoever is in front of him.

Short black hair... ok good, what else? They... no she, is wearing a suit....

Why is this so hard?

"Im so sorry...Qi xiaotian"

Her voice seems so faint now... how does she know his name?

" I knew you wouldnt handle this well.... but the sitatuion is dire"

Dire?

" Just rest now... i will explain everything later..."

Everything goes black.

[depravitycentral]

General Yandere! Osamu Miya Profile

Yandere! Osamu Miya x fem! reader

Warnings: kidnapping, stalking, extreme possessiveness, unhealthy/toxic thoughts, mentions of dub-con, slight misogany/traditional gender roles, mentions of motherhood/forced motherhood, mentions of harassment, basically Osamu is obsessed with you congrats love </3, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

DARLING PROFILE

Introverted

It’s not that Osamu isn’t capable of being attracted towards a more social darling, but rather that there’s something very endearing and appealing about a darling that isn’t out with friends 24/7.

He doesn’t like the idea of other people monopolizing their time, and consequently it would make him much happier (and quell his protective tendencies) to have a beloved that spends most of their time at home.

Even a homebody would be perfect for him – of course, he wants his darling to have hobbies and activities that take place beyond the four walls of their home that they enjoy, but he likes knowing that ninety percent of the time, they can be found in pristine shape inside their home.

It fuels his more domestic fantasies as well; he likes to imagine spending lazy Sundays with his darling, snuggled up on the couch while rain pours outside, watching Top Chef or other favorite movies and shows, popcorn and other snacks slipping past their lips as he criticizes the chef’s cooking alongside Gordon Ramsay.

He likes to imagine the way his darling would look so pretty wearing his clothing, the hickeys he’d decorated their neck and collarbone with in last night’s passionate throws of intimacy standing out like a beacon as they sleepily rub their eyes, yawning out that fucking adorable morning ‘Samu.

He just likes knowing that his darling is mostly content with staying home most of the time – he hates the idea of them being out with strangers, with people that could potential hurt them or have ill intentions, and in his mind this is a perfect win-win. He’s a homebody too, and this way he can spend all of his time with them, by his side, preferably cuddled into his chest or with his tongue down their throat.

He just loves the way his darling slowly sees him as the most important person in their life, because he’s the only person in their life – it’s a dream come true, and to see their face light up when he gets home from work not only gets his heart racing and his palms sweat, but his pants so fucking tight.

Artistic

Now, this particular trait isn’t a must-have for Osamu, but it’s definitely a factor in what attracts him to his darling.

He likes the idea of a beloved that has hobbies of their own – someone who finds passion in their lives, and devotes a substantial portion of their time to practicing and perfecting their chosen art form.

This could be quite literally anything – painting, playing an instrument, drawing, cooking (Osamu’s personal favorite, though he must be a better cook than you, no exceptions), writing, sewing, crocheting, anything that gets his darling’s creative juices flowing.

He loves to watch them practice; there’s something about the expression on their face as they concentrate that really gets him going. Maybe it’s the way their tongue sticks out just slightly as they put the final touches on the cupcake batter they’re mixing, the way their brows twist together as they brush the ink over the paper, how they tap their foot as they try to keep their rhythm while playing a difficult passage on their instrument.

He just loves the way they look so invested and passionate, and if Osamu is being honest, a lot of this fascination comes from his hopes that one day they’ll think of him with that degree of devotion.

He loves the idea of his darling paying him so much mind and attention that he becomes their hobby, that their artistic urges get focused onto him – maybe the little scarves and knickknacks his darling makes start being his size or having gray hair and gray eyes.

Maybe the poems they write start depicting a man of strong build, with callused fingers and a heart of gold.

Maybe the pottery they mold starts resembling two hearts beating together, symbolizing his and his darling’s everlasting love.

It’s sappy and he knows it, but there’s something about his darling being passionate that really speaks to him – maybe it’s because he sees himself reflected in them, but regardless it only fuels his obsessive tendencies, pushing him to learn as much as he can about the craft so he can impress you, just as he desperately wants to.

Smart

Again, this particular trait isn’t hard and fast for the chef, but it’s most definitely a plus in the stages of his infatuation forming. He’s always had a thing for smart, capable women; he likes the idea of a girl who isn’t afraid to be right, who doesn’t try to dumb themselves down for other people.

Of course, humility is important too (no one likes a braggard, do they?), but Osamu takes pride in the fact that his darling is so smart, that his darling is so talented. And this can take the shape of many different things – perhaps his darling is a gifted mathematician, able to solve equations with little trouble because they just get numbers.

(He likes to imagine the way their math skills might falter as he holds them over his knee, their pretty ass bare to him as he spanks them again and again, hearing them count aloud and grind their pussy against his knee in a way they think is oh-so-subtle.)

This could be his darling being strongly empathetic; able to understand the way others feel, putting them at ease and investing in making sure they’re okay while Osamu flounders to understand why they’re crying in the first place.

(He likes to think this is a sign that his darling would be a perfect mother, always able to calm down their children and make them giggle and smile, even while their knee is scraped up or their favorite toy is broken.)

It could be that his darling has knowledge of a very particular, niche topic; he could listen to them talk for hours upon hours, never losing interest as he nods along to their words, watching the way their lips move and form words, part of him forcing himself to listen while the other part wars to reach out and shut you up with his own mouth.

He just really likes the idea of a smart darling, one he can be proud to call his own, and if you were to tell him off with some logical, well grounded argument? Well, he’s still not letting you out of the basement, but fuck it all – one glance at his pants is enough to show you how your little speech has affected him, and he has no qualms showing you, either.

Optimistic

While Osamu isn’t necessarily a pessimist, he’s most definitely in the middle of the spectrum in terms of his outlook on life. He likes to consider himself a realist; he has no delusions about what life is (though, he most certainly does have delusions about what the two of you are), and he’s not embarrassed to say that more often than not, life has a way of choosing the non-ideal routes.

Of course, things could obviously be much worse (how can he say life is bad when it’s led to him meeting you, the single best thing that’s ever happened to him), but they could be better too. He’s neutral, really, which is why a darling that’s more optimistic would be a perfect fit for him.

Overwhelming negativity is exhausting, and if his darling only ever complains without anything positive to say, Osamu would quickly grow annoyed and tired of their presence, snapping at them to shut up, I can’t listen to you bitch anymore.

It’s not that his darling has to be always happy, always looking at the bright side (as this, too, can be equally as annoying as constant negativity), but he likes that his darling just naturally assumes the best in people.

Of course, it terrifies the protective part of him, the one that’s always paranoid about their safety and the intentions of others regarding them, but even for as much sleep as it causes him to lose at night, it’s just too damn cute. When they’re smiling at others and encouraging them through difficult times, Osamu can’t help but swoon; they’re just too adorable, too motherly, too fucking perfect.

He likes that they’re just genuinely a happy person – he’ll always lend an ear to them when they inevitably have a bad day or need to complain, but he’s quick to give them kisses all along their face and neck, whispering that they’re absolutely right babe, I hear ya.

He just likes how sweet it makes him, and only furthers his idea that they need protection – the world has a nasty way of dimming those that shine brightest, after all.

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS

Controlling

While it isn’t necessarily purposeful, Osamu has a bit of a problem when it comes to being a prominent figure in your life.

He’s used to having to share everything, from the limelight to the occasional toothbrush, socks to volleyball shoes with his twin. He’s used to being known as ‘the other Miya’, as the chef with the famous athlete for a brother.

So to finally have you, something all completely his own, how can he be blamed for being a little more paranoid? Can he really be faulted when he’s just trying to make sure that you stay his and only his?

He’s not even really conscious of the way he slowly begins becoming an omnipresent part of your life, how those cold metallic eyes are always watching over your shoulder, staying fixed on your figure because every little thing you do is riveting to him, fascinating and something he needs to see, to make sure you’re doing as you should, that you’re staying safe and healthy and happy.

He doesn’t mean to come off as the controlling boyfriend (though, his tendencies of being more intrusive than he should be will start much earlier than the boyfriend stage – when you’re both still acquaintances, friends, when his obsession is still freshly new), but with the way he slowly begins demanding more and more from you, the message will be pretty clear.

You’ll likely write it off at first; his insistent questions of who are you going with when you tell him you’ll be out for the afternoon seeming oddly serious, but it’s ‘Samu, right? It’s Osamu Miya, a man you know isn’t as petty as being jealous over your time being spent with another, who isn’t bothered enough to be weird about it, right?

You’ll just laugh it off, though this has the opposite affect on the man in front of you – your laughter has him on edge, wondering if you’re lying to him, wondering if you’re going out to meet another man – what’s Atsumu up to tonight?

Suna?

Ginjima?

The paranoia eats away at him as he paces around, terrified that you might be flirting with another man, chatting and making eyes at some piece of shit, that he could be touching you and fucking you and making you scream out a name that isn’t Osamu fucking Miya – the paranoia is really rather extreme, the deeply rooted fear forcing him to get more serious much quicker than he’d expected.

Soon he’s not only asking who you’ll be with, but where you’re going, how long you’ll be out, what you’re expecting to do, when you think you’ll be home, where and when to be checking your phone for texts or calls from him.

You’ll think it’s strange, confusing why he’s being so weirdly protective over you (and being so damn insistent, as he’s literally grasping your hands in his and forcing you to repeat back a promise to check yer damn phone every five minutes, what if something happened? Ya understand, right? I have to be able to check in with ya when I need to.), but, just like before, you’ll just brush it off, nodding hesitantly and slipping out the door, unease crawling up your spine.

You’ll slowly come to feel as if Osamu is suffocating you, his presence overwhelming and always there, as if there’s no escape from his probing questions, his insistence on you always contacting him (though, the tracker he’s placed on your phone makes it so that his demands to update him on your location via text aren’t really necessary, but it makes him feel better).

And from there, things only get more extreme – he’s catching your wrist as you go to pluck a piece of fruit out of the pile, narrow gray eyes watching you as he tells you to choose something healthier, why don’t I just make ya somethin’ to eat?

He’s sighing and blocking the door when you leave the living area, telling you to sit down and drink the glass of water he’d given you before you go lay down in bed, before you use the restroom, before you shower or brush your teeth or yawn or speak.

He quickly becomes the sole dictator of your life, making you ask permission for every little thing, making you feel subservient and below him, making you feel as if you’re nothing without him, as if you can’t properly take care of yourself without his guidance, without him metaphorically (and literally) spoon feeding you.

And frankly, as irritating and terrifying as it is, it’s difficult to get mad at him – after all, Osamu doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. It’s not even about explicitly controlling you for him; it’s more about making sure you’re his and that no one else can get to you, to make sure that you aren’t being swept away or stolen by anyone else.

And of course, it’s to get you trusting him, relying on him, needing him, because isn’t that what relationships are about? Mutual love, dependence, desperation?

Protective

Going hand in hand with his paranoia and controlling tendencies, Osamu views you as someone who, despite your best efforts, isn’t really able to take care of yourself. He trusts you and loves you, at least as much as he can given his staggering devotion to you, and yet he doesn’t inherently trust you with you, with your health and safety and care.

No, that’s his job, him as the man and your caretaker and the only one who can actually take care of you, who can adhere to your every need, whether you’re aware of it or not.

He’s fairly domestic at heart, loving the softer moments, and you’ll notice this extremely early on with his obsession with you. He’s always trying to cook you things, and while it’s sweet, soon it’ll start getting a bit weird.

He’s got a full course meal for you every lunch, always your favorite foods cooked exactly how you like them despite never mentioning it to him in more than passing. He’s raising his chopsticks and telling you to say ahh, his voice soft and gooey, practically purring at you. He’s placing the sushi against your tongue and smiling boyishly at you, his cheeks dusted pink while pride swirls in his chest that you’re eating his food.

It’s sweet, at first, and damn can he cook, but once he starts showing up at your door with breakfast and dinner as well, inviting himself inside to eat with you and your family, chatting up your father and helping your mother cook, you’ll start growing uncomfortable, unsure of why he’s there.

You won’t know why he seems to care so much and why he’s subtly tapping your wrist under the dinner table, smiling softly and telling you to slow down a bit, you’ll choke if ya keep eatin’ like that.

It’s strange and it’ll feel beyond out of place, but Osamu is a charmer. He may not be as obvious or charismatic as his twin, but your parents will quickly be won over, everyone around you telling you how good of a person he is, how he’s such a catch, how he’s so sweet to you, won’t you just give him a chance?

He’s always pulling you closer to him, keeping you by his side so that you don’t stray too far, keeping a hand on your wrist or shoulder or waist or back, warm fingers pressing into your body as a discreet but strong reminder that he’s right there.

He’s grasping your hips as he maneuvers you to the side to avoid the crack in the sidewalk, sending you a strangely shy, boyish smile as his cheeks turn pink and he murmurs something about you being oblivious as hell, yer always getting’ hurt.

He’s quick to grab your wrist when you’re opening doors or grabbing something sharp or hot, sending you a small look as he does it for you, murmuring something under his breath about you being too delicate, can’t have ya doing something so dangerous.

He’s genuinely concerned about your health and safety, truly – he doesn’t mean to be overbearing. He’s not trying to be condescending by saying that you’re incapable of doing anything substantial on your own; of course not! He’s just concerned that you tend to be clumsier than he’d like, and what would happen if you tripped and skinned your knee, broke your arm, got a life threatening concussion that altered your life forever?

(Or, worse yet, made you forget about him?)

He’s just doing what he thinks of best, and the trouble with Osamu is that while he’s not particularly delusional, he’s also not particularly great at seeing the reality behind his actions. He knows he’s a bit more overboard on his protectiveness over you than he should be, but he’s able to honestly write it off as being chivalrous, as being a good, caring partner.

He thinks he’s being romantic and exactly what you want when he cuts the crusts of your sandwiches off for you (even if you didn’t ask).

He thinks he’s being attractive when he doesn’t let you package your own leftovers from the restaurants, claiming the food is ‘too hot’ even though it came out more than forty five minutes ago.

He’s just trying to help, and he’d never be able to forgive himself if you were hurt when he could’ve prevented it – after all, what does that say about his ability to take care of you? Does he even deserve to call himself yours if he can’t keep you from getting bruised or scraped?

Would you even want him if he can’t protect you like a man should?

Obsessive

Generally speaking, Osamu’s devotion to you knows no bounds.

He’s busy with his restaurant, cooking orders and managing paperwork, but in between shaping the rice and signing his name, every single thought is aimed towards you. He’s constantly idly wondering about what you’re doing, what you’re feeling, what you’re thinking, whether you’re happy or sad or whether you miss him.

He likes to imagine the way you look at any given moment you’re apart; he’ll imagine the soft smile on your face as you see a particularly cute pet when you walk down the street, your fingers itching to reach out and give it some love.

He’ll imagine the way you’d sigh to yourself and roll your eyes when your coworkers are being annoying again; he’s told you so many fucking times to just quit so you don’t have to worry about it anymore, but you always refuse and laugh him off.

(It pisses him off that you so lightly reject his advice; can’t you see how being there is ruining your mental health? Can you not see how it’s deteriorating you, how you’re so much more stressed now, how the money isn’t worth your time? It infuriates him, and he’s sure that once you’re living together, your full time job will be taking care of the house, not your own finances. He’ll cover that, so don’t you worry your pretty little head.)

He’s imagining the way you shrug on your jacket, zipping it up until it stops right below your nose because it’s fucking cold outside, how you’d look like a cute little hedgehog all wrapped up for winter – no doubt warm and soft and perfect to hold in his arms.

He’s always thinking of you in sweet, domestic situations; you’re just too adorable to him, and it’s always been his fantasy to find a partner and live out those horribly cliché romantic tropes he always sees in TV or reads in books.

He wants to be the one spoon feeding you warm soup on cold days, watching as you flutter your lashes shyly at him and compliment to new recipe he tried out (or, more accurately, the recipe he made up knowing your favorite ingredients).

He likes to think about waking up in the mornings with you, the sunlight streaming onto your face as you let out soft little breaths and even the occasional snore, making his nose scrunch up and a snort leave his laugh because fuck, he’s heard that nose through your window for years and now that it’s right in front of him?

He’s imagining falling asleep with you, too, helping you with the skin routine he demands you set up and carry out with him – he wants to have dozens of photos on his phone of you making a kissy face in the mirror with him, a white mask covering your skin and making you look like some sort of slasher serial killer.

He’s plagued by thoughts and fantasies of you in every shape and form. (Some much, much more explicit than the kind, domestic ones – images of you on your knees with cum dripping down your chin and onto your tits, your fingers holding open your pussy and turning away your head in embarrassment as he stares from above you on the bed, the way you’d wantonly moan out his name and scratch down his back because he just feels too damn good.)

And so, the basis of his obsession with you starts out almost immediately with gathering information about you.

He wants to fantasize these sweet (and not-so-sweet) moments with you, but in order to this he needs to know more, to learn more. He wants to know everything he possibly can; when do you fall asleep at night?

Do you spend hours staring at your phone in the darkness of your bedroom, or are you out the moment your head hits the pillow?

What kind of food do you like?

Do you eat breakfast, and if so how would you feel about breakfast in bed, with you woken up to the scent of freshly scrambled eggs and a few (much too heated) kisses to your forehead by Osamu himself?

Do you prefer to spend time with others or by yourself?

Are you an animal person, and if so would you consider getting a pet with him as a trial run for your first child?

He wants to know every possible detail there is about you – and he’s frighteningly good at it. He’s just so unsuspecting; he’s nice, funny, a stand-out guy to everyone that knows him, and why would you have reason to think any differently?

Sure, it may be slightly offputting with how insistent he is that he’s always with you and making sure others don’t get close to you, but you’ll answer every question he throws at you.

After all, it may seem a bit odd to be asked what your greatest fear is, but you’ll just  at him and puzzle over the answer, pressing a finger to your lip as you hum in thought.

It may be strange initially to be bombarded with so many questions about your future plans (where do you want to live? What do you see as your ideal marriage? Your ideal house? Your ideal number of children? Could you see yourself becoming a housewife or a stay at home mother?), but you’ll shrug off the sense of unease coiling at your shoulders and answer him honestly, because that’s just what friends do.

However, once his questions start teetering to a more questionable side, things that you don’t feel comfortable sharing with him, with another man, red flags may begin appearing for you. After all, why does he need to know your bra size?

The package of fancy lingerie that appears on your front door the next day in delicate lace of your favorite color surely can’t be connected to him, right? Even if the fit is perfect?

Why does he need to know how heavy your periods are; what knowledge could that serve him?

(Quite a bit actually, if the some twenty boxes of pads, tampons, and menstrual cups he’s hoarded into his closet in his apartment is any indicator.)

You’ll slowly grows confused by his efforts to know more and more, but Osamu is slick; he’s good at keeping information at bay, at comforting your fears because he's just such a nice guy, now won’t you please take another sip of your beer and tell him what position gets you seeing stars every time?

He just loves you, and he expresses his love by overfilling his brain with information of his favorite variety – you.

DEALING WITH RIVALS 

While it would be a stretch to say Osamu never feels jealousy, he wouldn’t be lying if he said that the majority of his unease with other men earning your attention lies from the perspective of simply wanting to protect you.

Of course, he doesn’t like the possibility of your attention and love deviating away from him, your pretty eyes no longer focused on his, your smiles and laughter no longer aimed at his words and jokes. He likes that you seem to like him – he needs you to like him, after all, but that isn’t the entirety of what fuels his jealousy.

No, it’s the paranoia that eats away at him every time he sees you in public with any number of other people around you. He knows what kinds of monsters a lot of men are – he went to school with a number of them, and while he considers his friends to be good guys, even his closest companions have said questionable things over the years.

Hell, he’s though some questionable things over the years – of course, he’d never act on them, but idle thoughts of wow, she’s got nice tits or those pants are tight, wish she’d bend over again shocking him and making his cheeks flush red. He always feels guilty, immediately leaving the room and not able to look the woman in the eye ever again, but if he, Osamu Miya, someone who likes to think of himself as a feminist and non-threatening to women, is capable of such thoughts?

Then what do the men that don’t hold themselves to higher standards think? What kind of sick, perverse thoughts are rolling through their heads when they see a pretty woman nearby, a pretty woman like you?

It makes his skin crawl to just think about it, and so while he knows that rationally four out of five men would never hurt you, there’s always the what if eating at the back of his mind. He likes to think of himself as a the chivalrous, traditional male partner who cares for and protects his lover, and what kind of a man would he be if he wasn’t able to keep vicious hands – and heaven forbid, cocks – away from you?

What does that say about his ability to protect you, his ability to keep you happy and safe by his side? And so, while jealousy happens to him fairly often, most of the time it’s an ugly mix of his own personal jealousy, his protectiveness, and pure selfishness that cause him to tense up and watch the scene with an extra careful eye.

Towards the beginning of his obsession with you, Osamu was much more reluctant to actually interfere in situations in which he suspected something bad may happen. Of course, the moment anything bad actually did happen, like the man talking to you and reaching out to touch your shoulder, forced him to spring to life, to come to your aid and make him out to be not only the knight and shining armor, but also to get you out of that situation.

He’ll always remember the first time he did this – you ‘d been cornered by a man at a park while Osamu ‘happened’ – at least, you think it was an accidental meeting – to be passing through. The man had been sneering at you and backed you up against a tree in a less populated area, with no one seeming to notice.

You’d been visibly scared; shoulders tensed up and little stuttered pleas for him to move falling past your lips, but the man didn’t seem to care – or maybe, didn’t seem to mind. He’d been quick to swoop in, stepping between you and the man, and while Osamu doesn’t quite have the same physique as he did in high school, his height and the still very clear muscles coating his arms were enough to have the man scuttering off, spitting at the ground and glaring at Osamu.

He’d immediately turned around to help calm you down, leaning down and placing his hands on your shoulders, and it’s safe to say that the way you hugged him and whispered your thanks only further cemented his obsession for you – if you were to ask in the future, that’s the moment he’d say he knew he was in love with you.

And so, after that initial turning point, Osamu hasn’t hesitated much when it comes to defending you against unwanted (or, even wanted) attention from men – it’s his job, after all, and the reward of you clinging to him is so damn worth it.

The bell chimes right as expected, Osamu’s back facing the door to Onigiri Miya.

He can’t help the wide grin that takes over his features, even as he tries to bite it back so as to not lose his cool. He’s sure a flush is coating his cheeks; you always come in around five o’clock on Wednesdays like today, ordering your usual – onigiris that Osamu makes specially for you, but would never tell you is only willing to make for you.

He’s molding the rice with his hands at the counter, grateful for the open concept kitchen and eating area because as he turns around and sees you walking up to the register, the breath gets sucked out of his lungs.

Fuck, you’re so pretty.

And you’re looking right at him – chuckling as you call his name and wave your hand again, breaking him of the stupor he’d been trapped in. He clears his throat in embarrassment and fixes his cap, wiping down his hands on his pants as he approaches the register.

You greet him and give him your order, mentioning off-handedly you’ve been looking forward to his food all day – it must’ve been the only thing that got you through work, you’re sure. Osamu’s heart melts in his chest, the feeling in his fingers fully gone as he lets the compliment sink in, but he’s almost on autopilot as he rings you up and takes the money from your hand, already pushing the tray containing the onigiri your way.

(He’d already had it prepared, something you asked with a laugh as you took the tray, though you’d turned on your heel after thinking him before you could hear his small, vulnerable of course.)

His shift takes what seems like forever after that – he’s trying to focus on cooking, on making sure the seaweed lays perfectly against the rice, the filling being mixed to perfection, not letting any customers wait too long at the register, but it’s hard.

It’s hard to not watch the way you enjoy your food as you sit at the table by the window, the overcast sky shining in on you and making you seem to glow.

It’s also hard to ignore the way the man at the table next to you keeps sneaking glances at you, and when he opens his mouth to finally speak to you once you’re roughly halfway through your food, Osamu’s hand involuntarily crushes the rice in its grasp.

He curses under his breath as he sets it aside, perking his ears up and straining to hear the conversation. He’s flirting, Osamu realizes with a gut-wrenching feeling in his stomach – and badly, too. All compliments about your looks; you’re looking pretty today, love that skirt on you. Do you work out? You’ve got great legs. Osamu feels a shiver roll down his spine, and suddenly the mishappen rice is forgotten as he can only stare at the interaction, feeling his body temperature rising rapidly the longer the stranger talks.

You laugh weakly at the man’s comment, clearly uncomfortable as you shift in your seat to get further away from the man who’s clearly leaning in towards you. Your fingers tap nervously against the table you’re seated at, the shop suddenly feeling much too empty to you.

Oh, uh, that’s very nice of you… you trail off, hoping to end the conversation in its tracks. Unfortunately for you, the man doesn’t seem to pick up your hint.

He resumes on, rambling on about his own workout regimen, even going so far as to pull back the sleeve of his t-shirt and flex, cocking a brow at you and offering to let you touch his bicep.

You refuse, as politely as you can, and turn back to face your food. This seems to displease the man, and Osamu watches with a sharp, dangerous inhale of breath as the man reaches over and grabs your hand, setting it on his arm as he murmurs out a doesn’t it feel good –

Osamu’s moving before he knows it, having jumped the counter and practically sprinting to reach you. His wrist slaps away the man’s hand, your own fingers retracting immediately. He stares down in anger, disgust, barely contained rage, watching as the stranger’s lips part, anger and fear swimming in the man’s black eyes. Get out. Harassment is not tolerated in this restaurant. Get the fuck out, and don’t ever come back.

His voice is deep, the scariest you’ve ever heard it, and for a moment even you’re terrified – of Osamu, of all people.

But it seems to do the trick; the man is out of his chair in an instant, almost cowering away as he shakes his head and haughtily scoffs, walking towards the exit and keeping his shoulders taut all for show.

Osamu growls, before spinning on his heel and facing you, his hands on your shoulders as he searches your eyes with his own. He asks frantically if you’re okay, bombarding you with questions while you simply stare, before lunging at him and wrapping your arms around him, your shoulders shaking slightly as you whisper your thanks over and over. Osamu freezes for a moment, a pink flush spreading across the plains of his cheeks, before his arms return the embrace, squeezing you so much it nearly hurts.

He stays like that for who knows how long, before you pull back and he begrudgingly lets you go. You gulp and tell him you’re okay, that you’ll just finish this last bit of onigiri and then you’ll be off, and Osamu only nods, a displeased look on his face.

He scruffs your hair as he stands up, smirking down at you as you whine a bit, before he steps out the door, following the path he’d seen the man take.

It’s not hard to find him, nor is it hard to shove him against the alley wall, his fist meeting flesh once, twice, five times as the howls in pain. He’s clutching his face in his hands and crouching down by the time Osamu is done with him, but all the chef can do is spit at him, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and cursing under his breath.

Disgusting, treating women like that. Especially my women. Don’t you ever fucking come back, or next time I’ll kill ya. I’m dead serious. Yer fucking dead.

He seems happier when he steps back inside the shop, sending you a little wave to which you return, unknowingly making his heart flutter and his resolve harden.

Yeah, he’d do whatever it takes to make you safe and happy – even if it means roughing up his own criminal record.

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY

To be quite honest, the prospect of kidnapping you occurs to Osamu disturbingly quickly.

He’s always seen himself as wanting to end up with a partner one day – a pretty wife that he cherishes and who cherishes him back. He wants to live in a nice, downtown apartment a few blocks away from his restaurant, the whole place painted shades of white and gray (he’d never admit it, but just to match his hair and because his skin tone looks best against the color), with maybe a cat or child running around not too long after.

It’s a fantasy, pure and simple, but while little fourteen year old him was embarrassed to be daydreaming about such a sappy idea (Atsumu had been more than willing to make him aware of how weird this was when he’d accidentally let it slip at sixteen), the embarrassment has faded with age until Osamu began viewing the idea as less of a desire and more of a sure aspect of his future.

And so, once his feelings of such magnitude for you form, you seem to fit perfectly into this image he’s built in his mind.

You’d be such a good partner – he’d love to live by your side, sharing the dinner table with you, a bed, a shower, even a toothbrush if you wanted to. (And in case you’re wondering, yes, he wants to.)

It’s remarkably easy to imagine stepping into a bath tub with you, his bare chest against your bare back as you lean against him, letting your wet hair fall over his shoulders and his chin hook above your head. He'd rub his arms up and down your shoulders, admiring the way you shiver in his touch before relaxing, the heat of the water making your muscles loosen as the shiny diamond on your ring finger winks up at him, validation that you’re his, that he earned you.

It’s surprisingly easy to imagine poking your nose with a dollop of whip cream as he makes a batch of eclairs, seeing the way your nose scrunches up and you giggle, wiping it off your skin and instead placing it on his lips, following it up with a kiss and mischievous tongue that licks away all the cream.

It’s disturbingly easy to picture the way you’d breathlessly whisper to him that the test is positive – we’re – you’re – you’re gonna be a dad, ‘Samu.

You just fit the entire fantasy oh so perfectly, and so it just feels natural to substitute in your form whenever he finds himself idly daydreaming about his future. It’s mostly during long shifts at the restaurant or late nights alone in his bed that the thoughts come, but after only about two months of his obsession reaching it’s full fledged rage that the notion that he needs to live out these fantasies really solidifies.

No longer is it something he sees himself eventually doing – no, he will be living out his hopes for his future life, and you will be the one doing it with him. And so, while he’d ideally have you consenting to this and choosing to move in with him, Osamu isn’t above forcing you, either.

Of course, he’ll ask you first; it’s intended to be casual, the way he brings up moving in together, your brows shooting up in confusion because we’re not dating, ‘Samu, right? So why would we move in together…?

And really, you don’t have to remind him of that – you’re practically dating, aren’t you? With the amount of time you spend together, the longing glances he gives you that he swears are returned, and the way you melt into his touch when he gives you what you think is a friendly hug or kiss on the cheek.

You’re basically already together – which is why Osamu decides that sure, you may be pissed at him for the first few days, weeks, hopefully not months of being his captive, eventually you’ll come around. You seem to have a soft spot for him, and he can treat you like he should – he promises.

He can make you happy, in ways you’ve never been happy before.

And really, as much as you won’t want to admit it, Osamu is right.

You are mad when you first wake up to a semi-familiar but not quite known bedroom, your chest rising and falling rapidly because this isn’t your home. You don’t remember going home with anyone the night before, so where are you?

It’s only once Osamu slips into the room, his face lighting up at seeing you awake that the pieces slowly start connecting, the lock he sets into place on the door’s deadbolt making panic eat away at your gut.

You’re mad, enraged, terrified, and all Osamu can do as you struggle and yell at him to let you go is sigh and nod his head, telling you that it’s okay, I understand this is scary, but it’s what’s best for you. For us.

Of course, that doesn’t get you any calmer – you’re quick to spit out allegations of him being crazy, telling him that there is no ‘us’, that it’s not okay for him to be locking you away with him for the rest of your life – as he so brazenly tells you.

Osamu is patient, though, at least at the start. He’s not delusional enough to believe that you’d be happy the moment you wake up in your new home, that everything would be rainbows and butterflies.

However, Osamu does eventually expect you to straighten up; maybe it’ll be Stockholm Syndrome, maybe it’ll be those feelings of attraction you’d held for him before being stolen away resurfacing once more.

Frankly, he doesn’t care – all he cares about is now you’re in his grasp, by his side, where he can keep you safe, secure, and his. And safe he’ll make sure you are; the entire house is nearly babyproofed, because while he doesn’t think of you as an infant or treat you like one, there’s a part of him that’s too terrified that you’ll see the knife and start getting ideas.

He’s scared that if he doesn’t have covers on all the outlets, you’ll take the fork and jam it in as far as you can go, hoping your heart will eventually stop beating. The thought is too much for him to bear, and so he’d begun planning to make his apartment (in a very exclusive part of town, thanks to Atsumu’s connections, complete with soundproof walls and more square footage than he could ever hope to use) as perfectly fit for the both of you as early as he could.

And so, once you wake up that fateful morning to his bedsheets, you don’t really have a chance at escaping. And despite being kidnapped, you’ll find that you don’t particularly want to; you don’t have too much anonymity, but at least Osamu respects you enough to let you do your basic hygiene alone.

He’s not accompanying you to the toilet, nor does he brush your teeth for you, nor does he dress you himself. Of course, he’d love to do any number of these things, but he still sees you as your own, respectable person – just a person that needs him, is all.

Some things Osamu will still force you to include him in, though; showering is an activity that is always done together, your wet, nude bodies hovering close as he runs the loofah over your back, dipping dangerously close to your ass as he breaths a heavy kiss against the shell of your ear.

Cooking is an event that while he mostly does alone (he doesn’t trust you with a knife yet), you’ll be seated at the dining room table, expected to keep him company while he flies around the counters with pots and pans.

He’s really not too terrible of a captor, really. He’s pretty physically affectionate with you, always pressing kisses against the crown of your head, your fingers, your thighs, your lips and neck, and his arms are always around your waist while he sighs and relaxes against you.

He’s touchy, yes, but every amenity under the sun will be yours when you’re under his roof – nice TV’s with access to every streaming platform you could want, because he knows you get hankerings for programs that are difficult to find.

You’ll have exquisite food, always prepared by him and hand made with love (and perhaps, other things as well, though you’d rather die than find out the secret ingredient of his famous fried rice).

You’ll have an assortment of fluffy, warm sweaters (all of which have been worn by Osamu and spritzed with his cologne, just to get you falling in love with his scent), and all the blankets and stuffed animals you could ever want.

He wants to spoil you, and his only rules are pretty easy to follow; obey him, don’t try to escape, and don’t try to do anything that could hurt you.

It’s not horribly complex, is it?

It’s really not, and after a while of being stuck with Osamu as your only human contact, his kind words, compliments, gentle touches and earnest desire to please you, you’ll slowly find yourself letting your guard down, developing begrudgingly loving feelings towards him. You’ll hate it at first, hate both himself and yourself, but at the end of the day you really don’t have a choice.

Because while Osamu may chastise you for attempting to crack your neck (you’ll break it, baby, don’t crack it like that) or wear something light weight when the heating is broken for a few days in January (put on yer jacket or my sweatshirt, can’t have you walking around in shorts and a t-shirt for Christs’s sake), it’s difficult to ignore the way he looks at you with such reverence and devotion.

And while it may have scared you at first, eventually you’ll come around to it – isn’t it nice to know how much Osamu needs you? Isn��t it nice to feel wanted and desired, to know you’re the reason your captor is living, breathing, smiling?

It’s a head-fuck, sure, but who cares? All you’ll ever know for the rest of your life is Osamu Miya, so why not make the best of it?

PUNISHMENTS

For the most part, it’s true that Osamu is a fairly lenient captor.

He’s not particularly harsh nor demanding, and he does genuinely want to see you smile and return his feelings. Those fantasies of having a loving domestic life with you that he’s harbored for so long bar him from any truly atrocious acts, like burning you or leaving scars on your pretty body.

He doesn’t want to hurt you, not only because it would ruin his fantasies of being your perfect, caring lover, but also because he’d never be able to live with himself if he knew he was the reason for you being in pain. He’s driven to madness by his love for you, but he’s still not fully detached from reality – he knows that causing you pain is wrong, particularly physical pain. He’d be no worse than all those men he was trying to keep you away from when he was still developing his feelings for you.

And so, Osamu tries to give you as much freedom as he can within reason. You’re obviously not allowed to venture into the real world by yourself, nor are you allowed to do anything he deems dangerous (though, while belittling at times, eventually you’ll start to agree that it is dangerous for you to handle knives and razors, that you should just let him cut your apples and shave your legs).

You’re not allowed to disobey him, either, because if there’s one thing Osamu can’t tolerate from you, it’s disrespect or purposefully going against his words.

He doesn’t particularly enjoy brats, and he wants to be able to trust you to keep yourself out of harm’s way; it would save so many stress induced headaches, his eyes wearily watching the clock as he desperately wishes time would hurry up so he could close up shop and head home to you. He’s not super strict, and frankly it’s pretty easy to placate him – just hug him and compliment him, tell him you appreciate everything he does for you, and let him pamper you for a while.

He’s more than happy to take care of you; grabbing water and whipping up a nearly Michelin level meal of your favorite foods, with a yummy dessert for the both of you to share.

(With only one spoon, of course.)

He’ll turn on your favorite movie and have you lean back against his chest, his fingers idly massaging at your scalp as you watch the bright colors and action, familiar with every line and making him chuckle as you recite it.

He’ll lift the covers over your tired form when you’re about to fall asleep, diving down below them as he trails kisses down your stomach and between your legs, wanting you to fall asleep while feeling good, even if it leaves him hanging and having to either fuck his fist or your pretty thighs while you sleep.

And so, you’ll discover it’s actually pretty hard to tick Osamu off enough to get him to punish you – but when you do, he’s remarkably good at shutting down the behavior, even if it kills him to do so.

Osamu’s always known he’s soft on you; he doesn’t claim to pretend that he’s the traditional man of the household, putting you into your place so that you’re always the subservient woman.

No, if anything, Osamu plays both roles – being the strong man in the relationship, and caring to your every whim and need. And so, while it makes his heart ache and his gut wrench in agony to do it, he knows that the best way to punish you is to stop taking care of you.

He thinks the fastest way to show you that he’s your everything is to stop being it for a while – not cooking for you, not holding you in his arms, not engaging you in conversation and asking about your day, not giving you more attention than you would ever know what to do with.

It hurts him (more than it hurts you, if we’re being honest), but it’s the only way – and so, as Osamu watches in displeasure as you shake your head at him, he’s internally sighing. You’d refused to let him bathe you again – you’d been feeling rebellious lately, and while you’d only been with him for about a month – not nearly long enough for the Stockholm Syndrome to set in to the degree he wanted it to – he was starting to get sick of it.

Can’t you see he just wants to give you the proper love and care you deserve? It’s so hard to properly wash yourself, and it’s such a sweet, intimate moment to let him take control of your body, to run the soap through your hair and down the expanse of your arms and legs. Your rejection of bathing feels like a rejection of him, and so he merely nods his head, those gray eyes fixed on you.

Okay, he tells you, sitting up from the dinner table.

The barely touched food in front of you is snatched away from you in the blink of an eyes, being scraped into the garbage bin before you can even utter a word.

You’re confused, your rebellious flare dying down as you stare at him, unsure of what he’s doing. Osamu doesn’t say anything more, merely washing the plates in the sink while willing himself to not glance at you.

(It takes an inhumane amount of self-restrain to accomplish this task, as he’s so used to stealing looks at you nearly every minute of the day, too mesmerized by your beauty to do anything more than gape like a fish, but he manages.)

And maybe it’s petty, but hearing the way you mutter his name has his resolve hardening, because fuck, you’re already cracking.

Once the dishes are done, he dries his hands and whistles a tune to himself, heading down the hallway to his office. Paperwork is strewn across the wooden top, evidence of the way he’d been procrastinating for days on doing it in favor of spending time with you, but now is the perfect time. With a heavy sigh, he plops down into his rolling chair, picking up the pen and getting to work signing and approving business transactions, visualizing where he wants the company to be this time next year.

He slowly grows immersed in the work, having chanted to himself too heavily at the start of the paperwork to ignore you, ignore you, make her dependent on you by ignoring her needs, it’s the only way.

And so, when you peek into his office room, biting your lip in worry, Osamu genuinely doesn’t notice. You’re not sure what’s going on – he’s never this dismissive of you, always asking you if you’re hungry or need anything, if you’d like to read a book together or take a nap.

He’s never gone this long with at least smiling at you, and while it’d likely only been forty five minutes since you’d told him in a moment of bravery that you didn’t want to bathe with him, it feels like a lifetime.

You watch for a few moments, before carefully sitting yourself in the plush armchair in the corner of the room, situated so that you’re watching his back as his pen flies across the paper and his finger across the calculator.

At some point, Osamu notices your presence, but he steels himself to remain visibly ignorant to you and your eyes that seem to be boring into him.

Soon he finishes for the night, groaning as he stretches his shoulders and arms, but as he gets up to leave he doesn’t bother to spare you a glance.

You heart aches; are you missing him? The thought has you biting your lip harshly, tears stinging at your eyes at the realization, but before you can anything you hear Osamu turn the faucet on the bath on, the sound of rushing water making you stiffen up. Perhaps… if you want his attention back, maybe you’d have to…?

Osamu's brows are tightly drawn as he strips himself of his clothing and steps into the tub, trying to let the warm water relax his tense muscles. He peeks at the (purposefully) open door to his left, wishing that you’d appear, but after five minutes of you not showing up, Osamu sighs.

This is the right thing to do, he just knows it – how else is he supposed to get you dependent on him, on his love and protection? He knows it, he swears, but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, that his lungs don’t feel like they’re crushing under the weight of his heartache –

He’s brought out of his reverie as he feels a poke at his hand, opening his previously closed eyes to see you standing next to him, a nervous and somewhat embarrassed look on your face.

With a start, Osamu notices that your cheeks are wet and your eyes still a bit red, and immediately guilt is crashing into him; he made you cry, fuck. He blinks at you, trying to keep his face emotionless, and watches as you gulp.

I-um, can I get in with you? You’re asking in such a quiet, unsure voice, and for a moment Osamu threatens to break his careless façade, the urge to swoon at your cuteness nearly too much to handle.

He blinks once more, prompting you to keep speaking.

You play with your fingers as you stare down at them, letting the words fall off your tongue. ‘m sorry, I didn’t mean to be a brat. I’m just – I don’t know. I’m scared, ‘Samu, of how I’m feeling. You stole me away, and I’m not supposed to love you or even like you, but I don’t think I hate you anymore. I think – I don’t know, it’s confusing, but I think that I’m starting to need you.

Osamu’s heart is racing in his chest, your admission making his chest flush bright red, joy eating away at him because are you being honest?

Are you speaking from the heart?

The way you look so frustrated at yourself tells him that you are, and with a swallow much too loud to be unheard by you, Osamu speaks. Do ya understand that I’m just trying to take care of ya?

You quickly nod, chancing a glance at him, only to find his gaze stuck on you, the intensity making you shrink back.

It’s silent for a moment, before Osamu’s face splits into the softest, happiest smile you think you’ve ever seen, his arms opening wide as the water splashes lightly against his chest. Hurry up, cold water’s no fun to be in.

Your lips part and your eyes widen, and quickly you’re stripping off your clothes, too relieved at the way he’s looking at you to be embarrassed as every inch of yourself is revealed to his prying gaze. Soon you’re clambering in, burying your face into his neck and wrapping your arms around his torso, letting him return the embrace as you whisper against his skin.

I’m sorry ‘Samu, I know you love me and just want me to be safe, I’m sorry I acted out. I won’t do it again, just – just please, don’t ignore me. I need you too badly for that.

Osamu’s never had such a warm, pleasant feeling sit in his stomach before, and neither has he had such wonderful, romantic sex in his life as that night – with you clutching at him, not letting a single inch of space between your bodies, his name rolling off your tongue in waves as you came again and again and again, all for him.

OVERALL DANGER

Overall danger rating: 6/10

Osamu isn’t too terribly dangerous.

As far as yanderes go, he’s somewhat tame; he’s mostly just extremely devoted to your safety, and in turn devoted to making sure he knows everything about you so that he can properly fulfill his duty as your lover.

He’s a bit of a sucker at heart, and so while he’s capable of hurting others on your behalf (and isn’t afraid to do so, if he feels your safety is being threatened), Osamu treats you with delicacy.

You’re precious to him, something he can think of as truly and wonderfully his; he doesn’t have to share you with another soul on this planet, and he cherishes the idea of being your one and only in the same way. He’s lovestruck, truly, and while his protective tendencies may scare you at times, it’s truly coming from a (mostly) good place.

He just wants you to be safe and happy and his, and so while it likely doesn’t win him many points to be relocating you to his apartment, chasing off any rivals for your affection, time, or attention, Osamu sees it as a necessary evil.

He’s always wanted to have and be a loving partner, and you’re the one he’s decided has to be it. So while he may not be the traditional knight in shining armor, all Osamu cares about is you falling for him, just as you should.

All he wants is for your dependence on him to grow, so that the two of your can be mutually addicted to one another, unable to go nary an hour without at least some form of contact, be that a smile, a touch, a kiss, or feeling your wonderful, perfect little cunt squeezing around him.

Osamu just loves you, and try all you can, but eventually you’ll return his feelings. And how could you not?

There’s something wrong with him, yes, but have you ever felt so loved?

Have you ever felt so seen, validated, wanted?

You never have, and you never will, so just accept it. Accept him.

[salitok]

Scared to be lonely in the night

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Ellie Williams x fem reader

Warning: 18+, smut, pet names ( princess, baby and babe, good girl ), horny reader, dom Ellie, and sub reader, oral ( r receiving ), fingering (r receiving ).

summary: In the middle of the night Ellie heard a knock at her door. It was you.

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It was around 11:40 pm; It was raining and half of Jackson was covered in snow. Ellis was sitting at her desk writing and drawing in her journal, This was a normal Thursday for her. Suddenly she heard a knock at the door, she thought it was her imagination, but the knocking didn't stop. The brown-headed girl stood up curious and open the door. As she opened the door she saw you

"babe what are you doing here", she said softly. You jumped into her arms and kissed her, you told her you missed her so much.

As Ellie closed the door behind you she said "baby is so late, did you really miss me that much ?" She laughed looking into your eyes while she helped you take your coat off.

"Ellie I need you", she looked at you, her eyes then falling to your glossy lips. Ellie´s lips then crushed into yours, she could taste your strawberry-flavored gloss. Both of your lips moved in a perfect motion like they were dancing; Ellie lifted you up, your legs wrapping around her waist, and she pined you against the wall. A low moan came out of your mouth and into Ellies. After a while, both of your mouths separated to grab some air

"god princess, you really want this", she said confidently. You nodded looking at her with submissive eyes, she really caused something in you, you needed to feel her, she was addicting like a drug.

Ellie then lead you to her bed, she sited you at the feet of the bed. You looked up at her, and her eyes glanced down at you like you were her prey.

Ellie took her shirt off before getting on her knees, you couldn't help but stare at her toned abs and strong arms; you felt the wetness between your legs, your mind raced with a million thoughts that led to Ellie, you needed her, desperately.

She took your pants off, leaving you in your panties. "So wet for me, and I haven't even touched you", she said before running her finger over your clothed slit, you let out a little moan.

she is gentle. She then got up to remove your shirt slowly and kissed softly on your exposed skin. leaving some marks as she trails down your body again. After putting herself between your legs again taking your panties off.

ellies started kissing your clit softly, making you moan, her strong arms holding you close to her mouth. She started to eat you out, making circular motions on your clit and then inserting her tongue inside of you. You moaned at her touch and tried to bite your lips to contain the pornographic moans coming out of your mouth.

“Lemme hear you.” “I wanna hear those pretty moans. Can you do that for me?”. Her voice made you even wetter, lustful. You nodded, not trusting your own voice and knowing you'd squeak out ‘Yes’.

“Good girl,” she said close to your clit making you shake from the vibrations of her voice against you. She inserted two of her long fingers inside of you, and you arched your back, Ellie could feel how tight you were around her fingers. The motions were gentle but steady, her long fingers touched all the right places. You started moaning and whimpering when her fingers curved inside of you while she was sucking your sobbing clit.

Without hesitation, her tongue hurried over your clit, and her fingers fucked you faster; As that familiar tension grew in your stomach again. A delicious knot growing in your core. “Don’t fucking stop, Ellie, please don’t fucking stop!”. Her eyes were attached to yours.

"Cum for me baby". You grabbed her hair tightly trying to pusher closer to you. "Ellie am gonna... cum" You almost cried those words out of pleasure as you came on Ellie's fingers.

She lifted herself to kiss you. you're trying to catch your breath, her finger still inside of you; she slowly took her finger out, dragging them into her mouth. "You taste so good Babe ".

After a couple of minutes, you both lay in her large bed. "is your turn " you said looking at her while she hugged you.

"Don't worry baby, next time". she hugged you even tighter. so warm and close to her. As you fell asleep in her arms you managed to say

"I love you Babe"

"I love you too princess"