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on-leatheredwings · 6 months

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False Pretenses (18+)

Yandere ! Damian Wayne x (Fem) Reader

romantic, 18+ > summary: Damian needs an heir someday, and he knows your body can provide that. > tw/cw: stealthing/baby trapping. there is consensual sex under false pretenses, so this could (and should) make this fall under dub- or non-con! there is also a brief mention of somnophilia. Plus, some breeding kink, praise kink. Also some weird thoughts about (cis) women who are fertile being ‘ideal’ and a preference for biological children. Just a warning. > word count: 5088. jesus christ. > [a/n: (smokes a blunt). ] > again 18+ only, damian wayne is 21

So, Damian has a breeding kink.

You sit in bed (his bed), knees to your chest, trying not to smile.

The covers are wrapped around your bare body as you recall the night prior’s events.

Last night was the farthest you two have gone physically. You’ve made out, of course. That was in short order after officially becoming a couple, the both of you starved for the other. You’ve groped each other, both over and under your clothes… You’ve given him a handjob… (To his utter dismay that you’ve brought him to orgasm first rather than the reverse.) And last week, you took him in your mouth for the first time. But yesterday night was the first time you had been on the receiving end.

Now, you are no virgin, but the memory does make you clutch your metaphorical pearls. You didn’t know simple fingering could be so… perverse.

Damian’s two middle fingers are thrusting back and forth into your trembling cunt. Your ears are steaming at the resulting noises filling the air. They’re lewd, and entirely involuntary on your part. Sweat on your temple drips, your torso heaves with shaken breath. Your damp back lies flush against his hard chest, two perfect puzzle pieces. Damien’s chin rests on your shoulder, allowing him to have a beautiful view of the mess you’re making on his slender digits. Viridian eyes have their entire focus on you, utterly fascinated.

The look in them is enough to make you blush, even if two of his fingers weren’t in you right now.

Sinful, reverent whispers into the shell of your ear marvel about how well you’re doing, how prepared you’ll be to take him afterwards. Damian’s free hand rests on your abdomen, pointedly over your womb.

He’ll fill you. Breed you. After all, you can handle that. You were basically made for it. He knows you’d be perfect at it.

Chin resting on the palm of your hand, you come back to the present.

Yeah, that was really turning him on, you mull, with almost academic interest. Your lips curl into a catlike grin. How curious!

Hey, you aren’t judging! You can see the appeal. After all, you hadn’t exactly been complaining last night… just caught off guard.

You sit with your thoughts as Damian washes up in his restroom.

It is in his bedroom you currently lounge, absentmindedly fiddling with satin sheets. His bed is large enough to drown in. His room is a wash of dark emerald greens and deep blues, with golden accents. On a table sits a sheathed sword, its grip a beautiful gold.

Both of you are college students finishing up your last semester. During the school season, Damian stays in his penthouse. Yes, his penthouse. Why he couldn’t just stay at his billionaire father’s mansion, you don’t know. Bird has to leave the nest sometime, you suppose.

Slowly lowering your knees and letting your back hit cool sheets, you lie down. You get lost in the ceiling – a beautiful Arabesque pattern is subtly molded across its expanse. Damian’s culture is so cool. Such was a sentiment you had communicated in such words, and he simply kissed your knuckles with a proud curve of his lips, and thanked you for the compliment. You blush.

Ugh. Damian is so cool.

You start pulling up every uncool thing about him in your mental reservoir. You can’t have him getting a big head, after all. Or rather, can’t have his head getting any bigger.

Hmm… breeding kinkster, breeding kinkster, thy name is Damian Wayne.

You blink dumbly.

Breeding... breeding…

Pregnancy.

Your body stiffens.

Wait. Does this… does that mean something? Is that like. A thing? What people call foreshadowing? You sit up, disturbed.

At that exact moment, Damian saunters out of the washroom. His eyes catch yours immediately, as if drawn by magnetism. He is still shirtless, navy blue sweatpants looking entirely artful on his tall, bronze body. His usual shrewd expression relaxes at the sight of you.

At the sight of him, your heart skips a beat, and not out of admiration for his looks. It was like you had been caught red-handed, speculating things. Sometimes you swear he knows what you’re thinking.

He stalks toward you, eyes loving. He places a kiss on your lips, punctuating it with “Good morning, my love.”

“G-good morning,” you return, painfully aware of your nakedness under his sheets. He doesn’t seem to mind, though. He places kisses on your bare shoulder, trailing down until he’s kissing your hand. While normally you’d be melting, you remain stiff.

Damian pecks one last kiss when you blurt, “Do you want kids?”

You inwardly smack your forehead. Well, you weren’t one to shy away from a tough conversation. For better or worse.

Damian stirs, blinking at you.

You continue, trying not to wilt, “Do… Do you want kids? I-is that something you want? Like, someday?”

How the hell did this not come up sooner, you don’t know.

… Well.

Perhaps it hadn’t come up because your relationship was fairly new. You’ve known Damian for five years now. And for the last two, your relationship had been under a taxing, soul-sucking ‘will-they-won’t-they-it’s-complicated’ vague denomination for quite a while. Both of you knew each of you had feelings for the other. But Damian confessing his vigilante secret and his assassin past was quite the double whammy.

Damian was resolute in keeping you and himself safe and alive, but you had to think critically about a future with him. Eventually you said fuck it, throwing caution to the wind because you loved him, and you wanted him. And he, you.

Officially, it’s only been three months of dating – and you both are young. You both are in your last year of college. Talking about kids felt … fast.

Damian remains silent, face tentative. Having been leaning over you, he now sits on his bed, looking thoughtful.

“... Is that something you want?”

You sigh. Of course he’d turn it on you.

“I…” Your throat feels tight. God, why can’t we just enjoy a damn honeymoon phase… “I mean…? I’m… open to it. But yeah, it seems kinda… Like. I don’t know. That’s a lot right now.” Your voice is uncharacteristically small and meek.

You should stop there. Keep it vague. Keep things light. But you know which side of the fence you’re leaning on, and so should he.

“A-and you know– like, you know I didn’t have a good relationship with my mother– I just. Don’t know. If ever. I guess?”

You sit in awkward silence with him. You pray God just decides to smite you where you sit, because Christ. That was horrible.

Things like this could break a relationship, you know. And your chest clenches painfully at the thought of separating from Damian.

Damian takes in your words, nodding. He’s usually so easy to read – you’re well-versed in Wayne-nese by now, having spent a lot of time with him and the rest of his family. But he seems to be withholding his inner thoughts intentionally from you. Your heart sinks.

You nudge him with your feet.

“Damiii. Do you?”

Damian’s eyes glimmer with characteristic haughtiness, instantly making you warm. He crawls forward, hands sinking into the bed by your hips. He nips at your nose before locking lips. It’s a sweet, sweet kiss that’s like candy, until you feel the stroke of his hot tongue. You moan freely, not caring that he’ll likely tease you later for being so easy.

He retreats, licks his lips.

“You fiend,” you blurt. The insult rolls off him.

“What I want is to be with you.” You swallow dryly, heart thumping like a chorus line. You wouldn’t be surprised if Damian could see literal hearts in your eyes.

He puts a hand on your knee, stroking softly. You feel mollified at the action. Damian only did that when everything was alright.

“We’ve got class. If you get dressed fast enough, I’ll buy you that confectionary you’re always wanting.”

You stick out your tongue. “It’s a frappe,” you say, adding before he could say otherwise, “and yes, it is real coffee.”

Back from class, you decided to read on his living room recliner while he drew in his study. Damian indeed sketched, as he did everyday. Unsurprisingly, you were the subject, along with your favorite flowers. But Damian chose his study, rather than drawing you from life, because he also wanted to check if today was the day he thought it was. He opens the drawer of his wooden desk, papers neatly filed. He picks up a sleek black folder that spends most of its time laid in hiding underneath.

…

So, for the record, Damian did not lie.

He merely obfuscated an answer with a truth.

He does want to be with you above anything, and if children were out of the question due to natural causes… sure, he would learn to get over it. His brothers are all adopted and are as legitimate heirs to his father as he. But as it stands, Damian needs an heir someday and he knows your body can provide that.

… A not-insignificant part of him quietly admits that he simply wants his children to be blood-related. He’d never express this to anyone. His brothers are adopted, so how could he? But instilled from infancy into Damian was that he was the result of two genetically perfect individuals.

So why shouldn’t his child be the genetic amalgamation of you and him, both of whom are also two perfect beings? The thought of impregnating you sounds… good. Ideal. Natural, even. Call him a romantic.

When opened, inside the folder is a calendar for the year, with no notes or writing. Some days are blank. Some are highlighted in either red or green.

His eyes skirt down to the current day of the calendar, and Damian's pleased to see it is indeed among a week that's painted in green. You've ovulated, and the six days afterward are an ideal window.

You've said in passing that your cycle is pleasantly regular and Damian's past investigations have proved this to be true. Not that he asks anymore. He snorts, remembering how last time you looked at him incredulously and asked if he was a Republican, since he was “all up in your womb.”

However, you do keep menstrual products in your bag when he’s predicted it. You also spend quite some time at his place, so he does note when there’s pad wrappers in his bathroom trash bin.

Last year, the day he knew you were the one – his One – he brewed you a tea before bed. Its sedative contents ensured you wouldn't wake, and you were out like a light within minutes. So, Damian pulled off your pants, and collected a specimen from you as you slept. Of course, he did so with sterile, sexless precision – Damian wasn’t a pervert or deviant. He sniffs. He’s better than that. Even if his hands did linger.

Test results proved you were healthy and fertile. He recalls this with pride. As expected, you were perfect in all things. Damian closes the folder and ruminates in his seat.

Damian had assumed so, but now you’ve confirmed with him that you’re unsure about raising children based on your history with your own family. He hears you. As if he doesn’t have his own slew of mommy problems. If you bring it up again, he’ll wave you off. You’ll be an amazing mother. You just need a push, and you’ll be confident soon enough.

His fingers steeple. Hm… There’s the issue of having children before marriage… He doesn’t know how you feel about children outside of wedlock, but it’s not as though you’re very traditional. You don’t seem to have a problem with the fact that’s how he was conceived. It’s not a big concern regardless, because Damian is going to marry you anyway. If it’s an issue, you both could marry in as soon as a month.

It all works out.

It’s perfect, he thinks.

Damian puts up his sketchbook and folder alike, heading to his bedroom to change. It was about time he put his plans into action, and he knows just how to usher it into fruition.

“That doesn’t look like a very satisfying read,” Damian says, folding his arms and leaning against the wall.

You don’t look up from your book, your cringing face only deepening.

“Well, that’s because it isn’t. I was lied to! By my favorite Youtuber! By BookTok! And fuck it, by the government–”

"My love."

“You ask for one slow burn rivals-to-lovers and instead you get him fawning over her within three chapters–”

“My love,” he repeats, though amused.

“And let’s not even start about how this prose is abysmal–”

“My love.”

Since it was said oh-so-sweetly, you look up from your book.

Damian is... oh. He's in that outfit he knows you like. The League of Assassins one that's sleeveless, dark, and form fitting with gorgeous gold trim. It turns his body into a marvelous painting of black and gold on the tanned backdrop that is his skin. And you’ve told him so… Except his eyes. His beautiful, intense green eyes. He straightens from how he leans against the wall, stepping closer.

You toss your book, not even watching its trajectory. It takes out a vase on the way down and you still don’t spare it a glance.

"Damian Wayyyyyne," you sing, hopping up to stalk toward your prey. Your hands land on his chest. Hello, tig ol' biddies, you cheer internally. It takes considerable restraint to keep from saying it aloud – you know Damian gets all flustered with his delicate sensibilities. “Why, are you trying to seduce me?”

An elegant, thick brow rises in amusement. Well, that was exceedingly easier than expected.

“That depends entirely on whether it’s working.”

“Oh, it’s working,” you say, running your hands down to his abdomen. His hands rise to capture yours.

“Tt.”

Damian takes steps backward, leading you by the hands into his bedroom. Your leer grows even bigger. Oh, yes. You two lock eyes the whole while until you reach the foot of his bed, merriment and attraction dancing in both pairs.

You push him onto the bed, on all fours above him. You dive down for a deep kiss, tongue eager for a dance. Eventually it’s you who separates to breathe, panting lightly. The sight below you is one for sore eyes, Damian Wayne lying with eyes glazed with lust. He’s acting awfully agreeable, and you can’t say you don’t like it.

“Habibti, I want you.” Damian slides his hand to cup your crotch. You shiver, at his touch and his words.

“And you have me,” you say, voice warm. “Habibti.”

He smirks, probably thinking your accent could use some work.

“It’s Habibi, coming from you.”

You nod shyly, but you can have a lesson later. You’re about to slip off your pants when he brings your hand in between your bodies, placing it on his crotch. You sharply inhale. He’s hard, and straining against sinful, elastic tights.

“... And I mean, I want all of you.”

Your brows rise. So, he wanted to go all the way today? You feel your cheeks and crotch flood with heat. You find it easier to nod your head rapidly, lest you start barking. At your agreement, Damian’s face washes over with anticipation. You’re glad it’s not just you over the moon at the prospect.

You both rip your clothes off manically, laughing and elbows butting into each other’s sides. Damian expertly flips positions, boxing you in with his knees. You exclaim in surprise, a sound that drifts into shaky breaths and mewls of pleasure as he runs his fingers over your breasts, your stomach… He wets his fingers with his mouth before his digits start circling your clitoris.

You inhale sharply, mesmerized by the cyclical motion. Never until Damian has sex felt so flustering. Just watching his administrations was overwhelming, let alone the feeling– Your head reels back from an electric shock of pleasure. You gasp into the air.

"W-wait... wait, you have a condom, right…?" you whisper, though you have half a mind to just go without. You need him.

Damian tensed.

"I... I don't like how it feels." You raise a brow. You've heard condoms can feel like a second skin, especially nowadays. Then again, men were always complaining about them. It's not like you had the necessary equipment to confirm, so hell if you knew how it felt.

You place your hands on his cheeks, and his hands ghost over your wrists. You bite your lip.

"Well… Just this once? And if... it's that important to you, maybe I'll get on birth control–"

His head jerks as if struck, his brows furrowed.

“No.”

You stare, agape. There’s a small pause, both of you staring at the other. Damian’s face looks as though he’s betrayed himself. Your boyfriend didn’t strike you as so… traditionalist, to say the least. Lord knows you wouldn’t be with him if he was… so you will hear him out before nurturing any suspicion.

Sitting up on your forearms, you ask, “... What do you mean ‘no’?”

"I mean… I…” Damian sighs, looking utterly frustrated with himself. “I mean, you don’t need to.”

You blink and raise a brow, unimpressed.

“... Because?”

Damian’s jaw hardens. He grits out, “Because, I'm… sterile."

You flinch, purely from surprise. Damian merely stares, eyes narrowed in what you presume is annoyance at himself.

Uh. Okay, hello brand new information? Why hadn't this come up before? Well, it is pretty sensitive information. And since you hadn’t had penetrative sex yet, why would he have brought it up? And today was the first day you had even thought about kids. It… makes sense.

"Y-you are...?" You settle down, much like a cat whose hair is lowering from standing on end. "Okay… okay...” Damian remains stony, but he cringes at your clear relief.

Mistaking it as embarrassment, you quickly stroke his cheek. “No, baby, I'm sorry about that." You could assume it's quite emasculating. Men and their complexes about performing and wow, suddenly the breeding kink makes sense.

“So, you can’t…” you trail off. Knock me up? remains gracefully unsaid.

Damian nods stiffly. He really does hate lying to you like this. "I've been told it's very... unlikely." In reality, Damian knows his sperm count, and he's verified there should be no issues with reproduction. You both are in peak condition.

Despite the heat raging in your pants and your body begging can we just fuck already, you furrow your brows. All of this sounded fine, but it was still just… you needed specifics. To be safe. After all, there’s no rush, is there? Even if your pulsating cunt would beg to differ, painfully aware that two naked people were in a bed not doing naked-people-things.

"When did you get tested? And w-why? I mean, you're only twenty-one."

He waves his hand, snorting with his typical condescension. "I'm an heir to a dynasty – as soon as I was of age, it behooved us to know."

Us. That’s not a you-and-me “us”. You cringe, thinking about Talia and Ra's Al Ghul making it their business to know Damian's fertility. What an invasion of privacy for him… And no wonder he thought nothing of being in your body’s business as well.

"Well, unlikely is still possible, right?” You fear any surprises. Lord knows it would be just your luck to get fertilized by the un-fertilizable. You point at him. “And we should be using condoms anyway! It's not just pregnancy we should be afraid of."

Damian wants to assure you how insanely low the chances are of an infertile male getting anybody pregnant, and is about to do so, when his eyes narrow.

"Is there a reason we would need to protect against venereal diseases? There are none between the two of us." You flinch at his tone, colored with the acidity of jealousy. Suspicion.

The implication (accusation?) causes you to glare at him.

“...Yeahhh, okay,” you reply coldly. “Moment's ruined.”

You push him off you, but in a panic, he hisses your name. You flinch. At your wary expression, the color drains from his face.

“I… I’m sorry,” he says, brows furrowed and looking utterly ashamed. “I… I’m sorry.” You don’t meet his eyes, simply nodding. He places kisses on your wrist, shoulder, nose. Damian sometimes had his moods, although he was truly confusing you today.

“It’s fine, really,” you reassure. And it’s true, it was mainly the heat of the moment. You were sure Damian could never really scare you.

Your words don’t persuade the shame and fear out of his eyes or lighten the heaviness of his brow. You smile, huffing. Taking his face into your heads, you kiss him chastely on the forehead, nose tip, both cheeks. Until you punctuate the action with a kiss to his lips.

“Damian, really.”

Damian nods stiffly. He’ll never truly forgive himself, but he’s probably okay enough for now.

You shift on the bed, and there’s the telltale sensitivity between your thighs. Damn it. You still want him. You two stare at each other, still very naked and aroused. You turn the idea in your head … He’s sterile, right? And pregnancy is your only reservation.

As if hearing your thoughts, Damian’s face fills with determination.

“... I-it’s–” okay, let’s have sex anyway, you are going to finish.

“I’ll do it,” he interrupts. You blink. He leans toward you, close enough that you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes. You’re sure he’s about to kiss you, when he suddenly withdraws.

Your eyes catch the glimmer of some metallic object. He holds a silver square wrapper in between his fingers, likely plucked from beneath his pillow.

You look at him, and he says frankly, “I’ll do anything for you.”

You melt… before grinning, catlike. “My, my. So it seems Mr. I-Don’t-Like-Condoms still prepares a contingency plan. Very Son of Batman of you–”

“Shut it,” he groans, dotting kisses along your neck to make you do just that.

You feel relief flood your bloodstream. Then it is quickly replaced with raging desire. Oh, finally.

“Lay back,” he says, too soft to be an order. You do so without fanfare, a little curious as to why he’s not following you. Then you see him scoot back, feel him hike up your lower half, and you feel a thrill of excitement.

You squeak, feeling your ass leaving the bed entirely. A pillow is quickly placed underneath, and you are feeling quite pampered.

There’s curious licks along your labia, to which you twitch.

Damian finds his way to your clitoris, suckling and stroking heavily with his tongue.

“Hhnngh,” you speak. Keep going. Right there.

“Truly, a poet,” Damian’s voice says, muffled. You bite your lip, unable to retort because it feels too good. Damian is curious, experimenting. You know he’s gamifying this, responding and changing his strategies entirely on what draws the most unintelligible noise out of you. He slips his tongue in, and you grasp at his hair. He responds by pumping it back and forth.

Eventually, you do fear he’ll bring you to orgasm with this alone, when you both have more plans for the evening.

You wipe a layer of sweat from your temple, panting. “I’m ready. I’m ready,” you say, tugging meekly at short black locks.

Damian hums, and the vibration hits you straight in the clit. He sits up on his forearms, lips delightfully messy. His cheeks are ruddy and his brows are pinched with effort, chest heaving for breath. He looks very good like this.

“I’m ready,” you say again. Damian doesn’t need to be told twice. Your head hits the back of the pillow, and you close your eyes as you catch your breath. You hear the rustling and discarding of a condom wrapper. Damian positions himself accordingly, hands sunk into the bed on either side of your waist.

“Ready?” he asks. His eyes hold… shyness, if you can believe it. You stroke his cheek, grinning.

“Always ready for you,” you respond. You make sure to sit up. You want to see.

You watch, fascinated, as the head of Damian’s cock slowly disappears into your body. The consonance between seeing it and feeling it only stokes the fire of your arousal.

You moan openly, the sound making your ears heat. Damian dares to chuckle, and you claw his back in retaliation.

“Oh, shut up, and go deeper,” you breathe, eyes fluttering with pleasure. You didn’t realize how much you missed this. The feeling of being filled, of being full. You didn’t realize you could miss something you never had as well – Damian felt like he belonged in you. You feel every inch of you work to accommodate his sudden presence.

“And how can I deny such a request?” he gasps aloud, voice strained.

You feel more than a little pride that you were among the few who could make Damian bend to your whims with this (or any) level of subservience. The proud, proud Damian Wayne. The same Damian that sinks into you further, into your tight, hot wetness. He finally bottoms out and you exhale.

“You’re… a perfect… fit,” you say, dazed and in between pants.

Little do you know the resulting pang that shoots into his groin at that statement. He grasps you harder, maybe even enough to bruise. He needs you badly. He needs to fill you badly.

Damian leans even more forward, and you squeal. You’re just along for the ride at this point. He does all the necessary machinations to fold you in half, thighs bending back.

"W-wait," you stutter, but it falls on deaf ears.

He’s really stretching the limits of your flexibility here. Before you know it, you’re in a mating press.

“Damian,” you moan, because you’re too overstimulated to say much else.

“You’re perfect,” he says into the shell of your ear. “You can take this. You were made for this.” You nod, slack-jawed. He rocks into you, skin slapping against skin as your pelvises meet. Your eyes flutter and roll back.

“I could spend forever filling you up. I could spend forever watching it spill out of you.”

You close your eyes, cheeks aflame, much too embarrassed by his perverse whispers. You feel … almost ashamed at how much it arouses you. Almost. Majorly, it’s fulfilling a dark fantasy you didn’t know you liked.

“... Come inside me,” you breathe, unable to say anything more. You were embarrassed enough. He was using a condom, it was assumed he would be. But hopefully he’d see you were participating in his little fantasy, that you liked it too…

His thrusts are unyielding, and they only get harder, faster, more desperate as the time passes. Damian finishes with a groan, his abs clenching and flexing with effort.

You welcome it, taking it all because he’s right, you were made for this. In this moment, it’s like you were entirely made for this.

To your surprise, there’s sudden stroking on your throbbing clit, and that brings you to the finish line as well.

Your head jerks back violently, body snapping to attention as you ride the wave of an orgasm. A gasp by your ear. You’re clenching around Damian’s length, wringing him dry.

He collapses, narrowly keeping himself from squashing you flat. The two of you are a tangle of sweaty limbs, chests heaving.

“You’ve got to get out of me sometime,” you tease.

You’ve both been lying like this, too taxed to move for maybe ten minutes now.

“Is that so? Honestly, I could die here without complaint,” Damian says, and you get the feeling he’s dead serious. Nevertheless, he rolls away. He does not let you go far, wrapping his arms around you. You shiver at the feeling of him unsheathing himself, suddenly feeling empty.

… And wet. Wetter than expected.

You keep from flushing. Damn, you were really enamored with him, it seems.

You rub your thighs together, relishing in the feeling. Until you pause.

… No, like, you’re really wet.

You slowly sit up, investigating. To your surprise, you’re leaking… cum. And clearly not just your own. It’s smattered down your thighs, sticky. When you pause and can literally feel the cum drip out of you, you exclaim.

“Fuck… fuck.” You put a hand to your dripping cunt, and are surprised when it indeed comes back wet and pearlescent white. It’s for real.

“What’s wrong?” you hear, but you hardly register it.

You pull at a scrap of wrinkled plastic, pulling it out. The condom is shredded. It broke.

“Damian. It broke.”

You stare at it dumbly. It broke. You feel the onset of fear creep by… it’s held at bay, when you feel Damian hushing you, stroking your shoulders.

Damian holds you, asks why are you worrying…? He told you there’s no way. He can’t, he’s sterile.

You dumbly nod, combating fear by reasoning with yourself. Well… you were about to have sex without it anyway, after all. What does it matter if the condom broke?

You suppose it’s just the shock of a failsafe… well, failing to save you. So why do you feel so disconcerted? What’s this niggling feeling, you wonder. You stare at your inner thighs. His cum paints you like a mark.

“It’s nigh impossible,” Damian states. He’s doing what he does best – nullifying your emotions with facts. He pulls you back into his arms, your back against his chest. “The condom was really for your peace of mind. It’s not like it did anything.”

You don’t speak, simply staring at the condom in your hand. You nod.

“Really, there’s no point in wearing condoms from now on anyway. They break.”

Damian’s fingers trace circles on the bone of your shoulders. “I mean, they’re practically pointless. And either way–”

With his long reach, he grabs his phone off the nightstand. He pulls up an article, illustrating the likelihood of him successfully inseminating you.

“See?” he says. “It’s not a factor.”

Unwilling to let whatever strange funk you’ve entered ruin the afterglow of your orgasm, you nod again. You turn your head halfway, smiling. Of course, without missing a beat, Damian kisses you sweetly.

To hell with the condom. And to hell with getting stuck in your head. Lord knows you overthink everything. It’s as Damian says.

His fingers dance on your abdomen, and it tickles.

It’s impossible.

#yandere damian wayne #yandere batfam #damian wayne x reader #girllllll #i just have to post this already im tired #mine

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depravitycentral · 9 months

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Yandere! Kyojuro Rengoku NSFW Profile

Yandere! Kyojuro Rengoku x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, mentions of non-con, dub-con, breeding, non-consensual touching, dry humping, masturbation, panty sniffing, a brief mention about virginity being sacred but no explicit mention of whether reader is a virgin or not, Kyojuro is a virgin tho so corruption kink kind of, pillow humping, coercion, allusions to lactation kink and pregnancy kink, choking, spitting, Kyo gets sex advice from Tengen, Kyo picks you up at one point but remember he's literally a Hashira and could pick anyone up no matter their weight, 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!

WC: 12K

HABITS:

In general, Kyojuro isn’t an incessantly horny man. Not only does he hold women in a high respect and doesn’t inherently sexualize them, but to be quite honest he simply doesn’t have time to be regularly indulging in sex or even masturbation. He’s a busy man, and when others are settled under their covers, either sleeping or moaning in another’s ear, he’s out in the dark, dangerous night hunting demons.

And so despite being in the sexual prime of his life, Kyojuro doesn’t have a huge amount of experience. He’s never considered actually touching a woman before, mostly because he didn’t feel the urge to and because he firmly believes in the idea of saving himself for his wife and life partner.

And even once you step into his life he doesn’t magically become some sex-crazed monster – eventually he is, sure, but it’s gradual. It takes a while to reach that stage, for him to both desire you enough and desire sex enough to be wasting his time fantasizing about you and your body.

Little seeds will be planted in his mind as the weeks and month pass, his obsession slowly developing and leaving him floundering when small, inappropriate thoughts begin seeping into the edges of his mind.

He’s noticing the way your kimono dips down just a bit one day – your collarbones are pretty, and he can’t help but have a fleeting thought of how soft the skin of your neck and shoulders must be.

(He’ll return home that night and try to forget that thought, going through an even more extensive training regime than normal, but even by the end of the some four hour session, he’s still imagining how the skin of your collarbones must taste.)

He’s suddenly noticing that your voice gets higher when you get flustered, the pitch raising just slightly, enough for him to notice and mentally file away for future reference.

(Would your voice get higher if he were to fluster you? How would you sound when he’s just kissed you, your lips swollen and your eyes dazed? How would you sound when he’s touching you, his hands settling at your waist or cupping your breasts, or perhaps even slowly, carefully dipping his fingers inside of you, feeling you tighten up and clench down and gasp and writhe and moan his name - )

He becomes acutely aware of the way you always seem to bend over to pick things up, your clumsiness coming into play as he finds himself unconsciously moving to stand so that he has an unobstructed view as you bend over, his eyes blatantly fixed on the curve of your ass, his lips slightly parted.

(He’s definitely thinking of that image later that night, one of his rare nights off, with his hand wrapped deathly tight around his cock as he imagines you bending over for him - perhaps over his dining table, or maybe even over his knee as he gropes and squeezes and plays with you.)

The thoughts feel largely out of place initially, more often than not leaving him slightly dazed and confused because he’s never thought about how soft and smooth a woman’s thighs must be, nor about how your hands feel so small in comparison to his: less calloused and rough and warmer.

It’s strange, but as his delusions grow deeper and his feelings for you only intensify, Kyojuro finds himself rationalizing that it isn’t so disrespectful to be thinking this way – you’re practically already courting, and while you may not yet possess the Rengoku name, you will soon enough.

And once you’re wed?

Well, surely you must know what married couples do – pleasuring one another, loving one another, spending hours tangled in the sheets with gasps and cries ringing through their ears, sweat and kisses and cum covering every inch of their bodies. And if that’s your future – which he’s positive it is – then what’s the harm in imagining it?

He imagines all sorts of domestic scenarios with you, so why should it matter if the clothing is removed and your pretty smile is replaced with a pretty moan?

It’s fine – and so, while he still doesn’t wring himself dry to you every day, he’s sure to settle down and explicitly imagine being with you in an intimate way at least three times a week – even if that means unzipping the pants of his uniform with a demon’s blood still staining his hands, freshly killed and sending adrenaline through his veins.

(Adrenaline that then gets channeled into imagining the way you’d be so proud of him for outsmarting the demon and successfully eliminating it – perhaps you’d be so proud that you’d be willing to get on your knees for him, your soft lips wrapping around him and sucking, your little moans making his head spin and your nimble fingers kneading and groping at his balls. Ah yes, what a lovely thought…)

So while he’s not the most horny yandere of his comrades, he’s certainly no saint. But really, how could he be when you’re so damn alluring?

When it comes to actually touching himself, Kyojuro finds that his pleasure comes easiest when he’s actually doing the work, actually putting effort into getting himself off. It feels okay to simply pump his fist up and down, but it’s not enough – because being with you would be so much more overwhelming, even just your body heat alone making the experience ten times more powerful, more intense, more enjoyable.

He wants to immerse himself in the fantasy of actually having your soft body to kiss and touch and love, and he finds the best way to really achieve this is to fuck something rather than fucking his fist. But he’s a loyal man, and would sooner end his life than fall into the arms of another woman, even if only for a night.

And so, he compromises by fashioning a pillow – one with a covering of your favorite color, of course – into a substitute for yourself.

And while it feels good to have the pillow at all, Kyojuro finds that even just the simple pillow isn’t enough – it needs more, to be more representative of you, to just be better at convincing him that it’s really your wet, warm cunt he’s sinking into with every thrust rather than the dense plush of the pillow.

And so, with dark ink, he musters up every bit of artistic talent he possesses and carefully, oh so carefully draws in your features as much as he’s able to. He’s certainly no artist, but he’s slow and methodical with bringing to life this poor stand in for your own body – paying attention to every small detail, wanting everything to be as life-like as possible.

Your eyes are drawn on, correct down to the shape, even going so far as to try and ink on every eyelash, the flecks of color in your irises, any eye bags or wrinkles you may have.

He’s drawing your nose, the outline of jaw and neck, and, of course, your lips. He’s drawn them so that they’re permanently parted, leaving you looking like you’re gasping in pleasure, even going so far as to try and shade them so that they appear to be wet.

(Presumably with spit, or perhaps something a bit thicker, a bit hotter – it depends on the fantasy.)

The drawings continue down your body, making sure to outline your neck and shoulders, even down to your hands and fingers. (One hand is drawn with all your fingers curled and your thumb touching your index finger, so that a circular hole is made.)

He’s drawn your breasts, nipples, the swell of your tummy, your hips and thighs, even your calves and the arch of your ankles.

(He’s drawn you so that your thighs are spread slightly, giving him a view into what lies between – he’s not entirely sure of the technicalities of female anatomy, so he’s negating drawing any specifics and instead simply leaving the area blank, not willing to misrepresent your lovely, gorgeous figure – that’d feel disrespectful to you, as if the fact that he’s essentially created a sex doll in your image isn’t. He’s seen enough mothers breastfeeding children to have an idea of the upper half of a woman’s body, but he still shivers in excitement at learning how your upper body looks – though he thinks he has a good idea based upon how your clothing fits you, his eyes greedily observing the way the material is taut around your chest.)

Once everything is drawn, it’s easy to tear holes in the pillow – one between your legs, one in the curled circle of your hand, one between your pretty, parted lips.

Once he’s completed his work he'll eagerly, gingerly bring the pillow to his bed, gulping excitedly and immediately stripping off his clothing. His cock is already rock hard, swollen and pressing against his lower stomach, the tip a bright red and shining in the firelight of the room, precum soaking the skin.

He’d managed to get a guaranteed night off-duty this evening, which means there won’t be a single interruption. He’ll set the pillow down flat, excitement already licking at his every muscle, the room feeling incredibly hot already. He’s quick to settle himself above the pillow, his weight resting on both knees and his forearm that’s pressed against the ground. His free hand comes up to lightly trace at the drawn-on curve of your jaw, his face mere inches from where he imagines yours to be.

My flame, you are so beautiful… He’ll tell you, tongue flicking out to lick at his lips.

His cock twitches as he leans down to softly press his lips against your drawn ones, the kiss soft and slow and meaningful, the Hashira pouring every ounce of affection he feels for you into the action.

He imagines you kissing back; would you be hesitant, embarrassed and shy? Or would you be just as eager, perhaps wrapping your arms around his neck and running your hands through his hair, maybe even pulling on it, biting his lip and letting him know how badly you need him?

He groans, his eyes closed, lips working harder against the pillow, his tongue coming out to dart against the hole cut out, imagining your own tongue tangling with his. His hand wanders down from your jaw to your breast, fingers groping and squeezing at nothing but cotton, but the motion alone has his hips bucking, cock brushing slightly against the pillow. It makes him hiss, pulling back from the kiss and licking his lips, his eyes already half lidded and dazed.

Forgive me, I can’t wait any longer, I must be inside you.

His voice is breathless, and as he shimmeys upwards slightly, he’s spreading his legs a bit, thighs flexing as he leans back, audible inhaling as he nudges his tip against the hole between your drawn on legs, already smearing precum against the material from just a bit of contact.

His fingers are trembling slightly as he pushes in inch by inch, going slowly just like he would if it was really you, wanting to make sure you adjust to him and he feels good, so that you’ll be ready for him to absolutely ravish you.

He’s groaning as he bottoms out, balls pressed tightly against the pillow, his chest heaving as he stares wildly at your drawn on face. You feel – you feel amazing, my flame, oh –

He presses his forehead against yours as he slowly pulls back, the muscles of his ass and lower back going taut, before sinking in slowly again, an uneven sigh of your name slipping past his lips.

You feel so tight around me, does it feel good? Does it feel good to have me inside you?

Just the phrasing of that makes his head spin, the idea that he’s inside of you (even if he’s really not) making his hips snap to life, his previously slow pace picking up quickly.

He’s panting already, all the breathing control he’s mastered flying out the window because this is different – it’s your body underneath him, your pretty pussy sucking him in over and over and over, your moans ringing in his ears as you cry out his name again and again.

Kyojuro Kyojuro Kyojuro, please it feels so good!

He’s imagining the way you’d moan his name, how your voice would get so breathy, your fingers raking down his back, your legs wrapping around his hips.

He groans your name again, hips snapping into yours hard enough to push the pillow up with every thrust, his mind running wild as he imagines how your breasts would bounce at the force, practically begging to be squeezed and sucked at. A hand comes up and begins groping at nothing again, his thumb brushing over where he’s drawn on your nipple, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as the pleasure begins mounting.

It just feels too damn good – it’s so easy to imagine you below him, crying out his name as he fucks you hard enough to leave you utterly destroyed, your perfect little cunt massaging him in just the right ways.

He’s chanting your name under his breath, his eyes wide and staring down at your inked face, his voice getting faster and more strained as his muscles start clenching, his balls tightening and his hips stuttering and his heart racing because oh god oh fuck oh fuck –

He’s pulling out at the last minute, cum spurting all over the pillowcase, his moans of your name filling the room as his hand quickly tugs, wrist twisting and moving so fast it’s nearly a blur. The pleasure is immense, leaving his toes curling and every hair on his body standing up straight, feeling as if fire is running through his veins.

After the last few sad spurts dribble from his oversensitive, swollen tip, he’s left gasping, swallowing hard and letting a broad grin slip across his face. With still heavy breaths, he pushes back any stray hair from his forehead, the bit of sweat gathered there leaving him sighing. He’s quick to lean down, pressing a soft, long kiss against your drawn-on lips, a whispered I love you murmured against the pillow.

He has to swallow hard as he pulls back, euphoria still swimming in his veins at the intensity of his orgasm. Pleasuring himself to the thought of you is nearly too much - it leaves him breathless, feeling a high that doesn’t fade for hours after, and as he lays down beside the pillow, still stained with cum as he pulls it against his chest, imagining spooning you, he can’t help but shiver.

Because if it feels this good to simply imagine, how would the real you feel?

FAVORITE BODY PARTS:

Your thighs

In general, Kyojuro thinks you’re absolutely beautiful.

He finds you to be the single most attractive woman on Earth, and even if he’s never seen your body in anything more form fitting than a kimono or a slayer uniform, he’s absolutely sure that whatever awaits him beneath the cloth will be heaven, the thing of wet dreams.

And the moment he finally, finally has you bare below him, your pretty skin on display and waiting to be kissed, fondled, marked as his, he finds that he’s not disappointed in any way.

You’re gorgeous – and, naturally, the most gorgeous part of you is your thighs. There’s something about the sight of them that gets him swallowing hard, his eyes growing a bit brighter and wider.

His palms get a bit sweatier when he sees the way they splay out when you sit down, the fat jiggling with every step you take, the way they just look so touchable and squeezable. He nearly has a full body reaction the moment your thighs are out on display, his body temperature rising to extreme heights and his attention straining to stay on you rather than your pretty legs.

Even in settings where soft, loving affection is occurring, he's still eyeing them, appreciating the way you look in his clothing, the simple overshirt you’d put on that morning stopping mid thigh and leaving very little of your upper legs to the imagination.

(You’ll notice the way his fingers slowly creep down from your waist, moving inch by inch until they’re finally laying over the curve of your thigh, idly rubbing and pressing into the warm flesh, marveling at just how soft you are.)

And when you’re both intimate with one another, his enjoyment of your thighs will be more than apparent – he’s always touching them, his hand coming down to squeeze and stay there, almost latching onto you as he throws your leg over his shoulder, his hips never stopping the brutal pace he’s established.

Every position he fucks you in involves your thighs somehow – he’s forcing you to wrap them around his hips when he's hovering above you and pressing down on you so tightly you’re only able to breath in him.

When he’s folded you into the deepest mating press possible, he’s holding you in position by pressing directly against the back of your thighs rather than your knees, often leaving fingertip shaped bruises there from the sheer force and strength he has to keep at bay every time he slips inside you.

Even when he’s fucking you from behind, your pretty ass on display as he sinks so deeply into you that it drives him crazy, he’s making sure to line his own thighs up to press against yours, relishing in the way his balls clap against your clit and the soft, plush fat of your upper inner thighs.

He’s paying extra attention to nip and tease you when he’s got his head between your legs, sucking hickeys and pressing kisses against your inner thighs as he slowly trails up from the inside of your knees.

He wants you to cage in his head when you’re nearing your orgasm, to squeeze as tightly as possible while he licks and moans and thrusts his tongue into you, the only thing he can see and taste and feel and hear being you you you.

Even when you’ve got your lips wrapped around his cock, his eyes are fixated on the way your thighs look splayed out while you kneel on them, his hips bucking as he zones out slightly, the pleasurable feeling of your mouth making him moan and struggle to maintain his composure.

He just really, really likes that area of your body, and while there’s certainly no part of you that he doesn’t like, his penchant for touching you there and always having a hand on your thigh will be very, very apparent to you.

So if you want to tease him, to see the way his eyes darken a bit and his smile grows a bit sinister, sit down with your legs slightly spread, stare at him with those pretty, pouty eyes of yours, and tell him that you’ve been feeling sore, will you please give me a massage, Kyo? I miss your touch…

You’ll have trouble walking the next day, and the littering of bruises, hickeys, and bite marks against your thighs will serve as proud trophies for Kyojuro, who will insist you not cover them up.

His mouth

In the context of sex, Kyojuro lives to please. He’s being completely honest when he firmly tells you that your pleasure is his, because he really does feel that way.

When you touch him it makes his head spin and his hips involuntarily buck, but when he touches you?

Well, more often than not he’s coming alongside you when he’s fingering you, that telltale groan of o-oh and the wet warmth you’ll feel against your skin letting you know exactly how watching you fall apart is affecting him. And similarly, he gets very, very into it when he’s got his mouth working at you, his talented tongue drawing tight circles over your clit and his hair tickling the inside of your thighs.

Every sexual encounter with Kyojuro will involve him eating you out in some capacity, both because he wants you to feel good, and also because he genuinely enjoys the taste of you and the feel of you against his tongue.

And he’s good at it too – he starts off slow, teasing you with playful nipping and smiles against your skin, his eyes looking up at you the whole time, forcing you to keep eye contact because he wants you to see how he pleasures you, for you to see how right he looks between your legs.

He’ll ghost around where you really need him for a while, making sure to pepper kisses at the juncture between your pelvis and thigh, the area right above your clit, even your lower tummy and hips.

He’ll kitten lick at your folds, humming against your skin and letting the vibrations send shivers up your spine, his tongue dipping just a bit deeper each time, until he’s using his thumbs to physically spread your lips, lewd slurping noises filling your ears as he licks and sucks, pleasure making you sigh his name.

After he’s sufficiently teases you, he’ll press a few more kisses to your thigh, then move upwards, still staring you in the eyes, before licking his lips and pressing a soft kiss to your clit.

He’ll tell you that he loves your body, my flame, especially this special spot that always makes you moan my name, before flicking his tongue along it, enjoying the way you jerk at the acute stimulation.

He’s perfected the art of keeping a steady, consistent pattern against you, making sure that the rhythm can let the pleasure build, a dull warmth spreading through your entire lower body.

Meanwhile, he’ll always slip a finger inside of you, curling and pressing against areas he knows you like, feeling the way your thighs twitch and your moans get louder.

He likes when you run your hands through his hair as he uses his mouth on you, especially if you lightly tug or pull; the pleasure tinged with slight pain makes him blindly hump at whatever is closest to him.

And he’ll always, always keep going until you’ve reached your high, even if that means spending hours between your legs; anything to feel the way your cunt flutters against his lips, how you gasp and practically wail his name, your thighs seizing up and your slick coating his chin and lips.

His eyes close as he eagerly laps it up, addicted to your taste – and as he pulls back, his lower face glistening with your arousal and spit, he’ll kiss you, pulling you into a passionate, tongue-heavy kiss.

Even outside of going down on you, Kyojuro finds ways to utilize his mouth in regards to you in every situation he can – he’s always pressing kisses against your lips, cheek, forehead, neck, and knuckles, liking the way that it flusters you and leaves you biting your lip.

He’s taking your hand in his and pressing kisses against your fingertips, singing your praises between presses of his lips, until he’s eventually slipping a finger into his mouth, holding your gaze as he sucks and runs his tongue up and down your skin, the intensity of the moment making you simultaneously aroused and uncomfortable.

He’ll even go so far as to share your toothbrush, just because he likes the idea of a little bit of him being in a little bit of you.

(You’re very aware of this, even without the whole toothbrush misfortune – his penchant for always, always finishing inside of you makes this abundantly clear.)

DRIVE:

Despite Kyojuro’s delusions about your relationship and how you feel for him, even he can’t misread the way you react so negatively to his mentions of being sexual with you. You always freeze up, eyes going wide, your head shaking no and your voice hurried as you tell him please, please no Kyojuro, I’m not – I’m not ready for that, please don’t!

He’ll respect that, firmly nodding and tell you to not worry, my love, I can wait for as long as it takes!

He doesn’t really understand it, however, because in his mind there really shouldn’t be a reason why you aren’t ready – you’re his, and you know it.

You’re living together (even if that wasn’t your choice) and you share a bed together when he’s home. You bath together (something that Kyojuro enjoys very, very much, his hands always wandering, his breath hot in your ear as he tells you that you’re beautiful, something hard pressing against you when he’s washing your hair), share a toothbrush, eat together and wear his clothing – you’re a couple, a partnership between a man and a woman, and wanting to express your love physically is a natural urge.

It’s normal and healthy, and something he wants so, so very badly to do with you. But he understands that perhaps you’re not comfortable with that level of intimacy quite yet – he’s aware of how society views women who’ve lost their virginity (he’d never explicitly asked you if you’ve touched another person, but he assumes you’ve saved yourself for him as he’s saved himself for you), and although you’d be giving it to the man you’ll spend the rest of your life with, he can respect that you might simply be afraid to lose something you’ve learned is cherished.

He’s disappointed by your rejection of sex, but he means it when he says he’ll wait for you to be ready and won’t force it upon you. That does not, however, mean that Kyojuro will completely abstain from interacting with you sexually. He just can’t help himself – sure, he may not be actively fucking you, but he finds other ways to placate the carnal desires practically begging him to rip off your clothing and press you against him while he makes you moan and writhe and fills you with him him him.

It starts small – he’s kissing you every chance he gets, letting them get longer and deeper, lasting sometimes minutes at a time while small moans and groans slip from his mouth into yours. His hand initially starts at your shoulder when he does this, but as time passes he gets bolder – it moves to your waist, your cheek, your hip, even over your ribcage right below your clothed breast, the edges of his fingers brushing against the underside of the pudge fat as moving up slowly, up until he pulls away from the kiss for air.

When kissing you becomes not enough, he moves to hugging you for longer periods of time, getting tighter and purposefully pressing parts of his body against you. He’s always been touchy, and you’ve been getting hugs for nearly as long as you’ve known him (even before his infatuation formed, back when his feelings for you were strictly platonic – now, though, they’re anything but).

But these hugs are different – he’s wrapping an arm around your waist and forcing you flush with his body, smiling at you with those wide, unsettling eyes while his breathing picks up ever so slightly, his pelvis pressed tightly against your own so that you can feel something – something warm, big, almost feeling like it’s moving against you, like it’s throbbing.

He’ll ask you to give him a pair of your panties when he leaves for missions, smiling so brightly and boyishly when you hesitantly deliver the piece of cloth to his outstretched palm, licking his lips and bringing the garment up to inhale deeply before stuffing it away into one of the many pockets of his Demon Corps uniform, telling you with a laugh to choose a pair that’s been used next time please, my flame.

(You never ask why he wants the underwear while he’s gone, simply because you think you know the answer already, but somehow hearing it from him would be worse, like confirming a truth you desperately wished to be false. Plus, you’re sure he’d tell you in extreme detail exactly how he uses them, too, perhaps even giving you a visual demonstration because he’s just so eager to interact with you, to feel your pretty eyes on him.)

It’s disturbing, but it’s a small comfort to know that he may be pushy and make you uncomfortable but he’ll never truly force you into sex. Kyojuro may be many things, but he’s at least a man of his word – even if he very, very badly wishes he wasn’t sometimes.

And so as wonderful as kissing you deeper and hugging you tighter and fucking his fist to your panties is, Kyojuro eventually decides that he needs more. He needs to get as close to actually fucking you as he can without being inside of you, just as he promised.

And so the perfect solution is really just that simple – running through the motions without violating your wishes. Kyojuro is ecstatic just thinking about – which is why, when the mood strikes him, his cock straining against his trousers and his fingers itching to reach out and touch, he’ll strip off his clothing, smiling at you and running his knuckles against your cheek while telling you to take your clothing off please, love, I want to make you feel good.

And really, as much as you don’t want to, it’s easier on both of you if you just do – your options are let him hump you like a dog, or be forced to touch him, your own hand wrapped around his cock as he moans and sighs and thrusts into your hand while telling you how good you look. And so, once your clothing is off, Kyojuro will look at you with those eyes, licking his lips slowly and walking up to you, pressing himself against you again and letting his hands sit firmly at your waist.

My flame, he’ll murmur to you, his voice low and his breath a bit hitched because his cock is pressed up against your thigh and god, even that touch alone is enough to make his knees feel weak. Lay down for me.

He’ll have you lay on your back, your legs spread for him and your arms over your head. He’ll stand for a while, simply staring at you, the sight of you in such a provocative position making his cheeks tinge pink and his throat feel a bit dry. But soon there’s too much precum dribbling from his tip to ignore, and he’ll climb over you, hovering over you and wrapping your leg around his waist, so that his face is mere inches from yours and his cock is pressed against your navel.

He’ll swallow, leaning down a bit to press his lips against yours, relishing in the warmth of your body pressed against his own. Kisses are pressed against the corner of your mouth, then down the length of your jaw, down your neck and finally to your shoulder, the movements slow and meaningful despite the near painful aching between his legs. His hips seem to move on their own, slowly rocking forward and backwards, the friction of his cock rubbing against your skin and against the tufts of hair making him hiss slightly.

His lips find purchase at your ear, deep sighs and heavy pants impossible to ignore as he slowly picks up his pace. The stimulation feels good, but it’s not enough for him - he has to move faster, harder, be better, because this is really a chance for him to show you exactly what you’re missing out on. This is his opportunity to show you that if he were to do this inside of you, it would feel so much better for you – it’s his opportunity to convince you that sex with him would feel good, that you’d be satisfied, that he could please you.

And he commits to that desire – one forearm is pressed against the bed right beside your head supporting his weight while the other wanders from your waist up to grope and squeeze at your breast, deft fingers pinching and rolling your nipple between them. He’ll groan your name, leaning down to lick at your lips and tell you that you’re so very beautiful, his voice strained. He’ll bring the hand down to ghost over your stomach, right above where his cock is grinding and thrusting, moving to bury his nose against your neck while he chants your name. His voice is a bit slurred, the pleasure making his brows draw tightly together, his hips snapping and flexing harder and harder.

He’s close, and he tells you as much – muffled against your neck, his low groan of f-feels too good, you feel so good love…

With his orgasm approaching, he resorts to kissing your neck again, his hair tickling you and the feeling of his cock dragging against your skin over and over making your toes curl involuntarily, because even as humiliating and uncomfortable as this is, isn’t there something oddly sexy about this big, strong man making himself a fool on you, losing him mind from just the feel of you?

He’s desperate for the pleasure he’s right on the brink of as he blindly reaches out to find your hand, his fingers interlocking with yours tightly, the moan that rises in the back of his throat high and uneven and raw. His whole body shakes as something warm and thick spurts against your stomach, a few drops landing on the undersides of your breasts, his breath heavy in your ear as he slowly, oh so slowly thrusts, riding out the last waves of his pleasure.

His hand is still gripping yours, and after a moment he pulls back and kisses you again, his tongue immediately pushing into your mouth and insistent, the red on his cheeks even more pronounced now.

It’s still not ideal, grinding and humping against you like this, but Kyojuro is content to do it as many times as it takes until you finally, finally feel ready to let him love you like you deserve, to let him make you gasp and cry out his name and gush around him until you’re too incoherent to even think.

MAIN THREE KINKS:

Praise

Kyojuro is very vocal in bed. He’s constantly talking to you – telling you how good you feel, telling you when something in particular feels best, warning you when his orgasm is dangerously near, just producing a constant stream of commentary as he fucks you. His voice is breathy the whole time, always turned up at the ends of his sentences because the pleasure is too strong, forcing him to slur his words together because fuck you feel good.

A lot of his vocalness stems from the fact that he’s just so excited to be intimate with you – he’s been fantasizing about this for a long time, long nights spent with his eyes closed and his cheeks a bit pink,

imagining the way you’d look underneath the pretty kimonos and clothing you wear.

He’s imagined what your face would look like when he’s cupping your breasts, thumbing at your nipples and making your brows twitch, biting your lip as you tell him to squeeze just a hair harder, pressing yourself against him because having his hands on you feel too good.

He’s imagined how your thighs would tremble when he’s got two fingers buried in your cunt, curling and scissoring and rubbing against your sensitive walls while you curl your toes and whine his name.

He’s even imagined the way your pussy would feel as he’s fucking you, how it would clench down on him hard, practically begging him to stay inside, begging for every last drop of cum he can possibly give.

He’s fantasized and daydreamed and imagined for months on end, each scenario only making him more anxious to finally have his hands on you, the buildup to actual intimacy with you leaving him wildly excited. And so, now that you’re finally with him, your perfect body warm and soft to the touch just as he knew you’d be, Kyojuro can’t help himself from telling you every little thing he’s thinking and feeling. He’s rambling on about how pretty you look when you’re underneath him, your body spread out for him and completely bare.

He’ll smile at you and kiss at every available inch of skin as his hands squeeze and knead at your sides, leaning back to admire the view of a flustered, bashful you underneath him all with a dreamy sigh and a small you’re so perfect, my flame, exactly as I imagined you’d be. And really, it would be sweet if it weren’t for the way he continues on to tell you exactly what he’d imagined, explicit details about how he'd fucked to his fist to the thought of you writhing below him, what pace he’d used, how he’d tightened up his grip to simulate how tight you’d grip him, even going so far as to tell you that this particular fantasy had him producing much more cum than normal when he eventually came.

It’s too much information and will leave you feeling disturbed and a bit scared, but Kyojuro doesn’t seem to notice – he’s too deeply enthralled with the pleasure you’re giving him, the words seeing to slip off his tongue without him even realizing it as he thrusts into you with an almost inhuman speed.

But of course, even as lovely as it is to detail all of the fantasies he’s had of you, what you’ll most often get with him is praise. He generally thinks that you’re enchanting, viewing you as something perfect and lovely and so, so very wonderful, but when he’s intimate with you this perception of you only intensifies.

Every small burst of pleasure you give him only solidifies his infatuation with you, and he can’t stop himself from telling you how beautiful you look on your knees for him, your pretty lips wrapped around his cock and your eyes prickling with tears because he’s too big for you to take down your throat. He’ll just smile, hand cupping the back of your hand and slowly easing you down his length, biting his lip at the sight and sighing out that you’re doing so well, you feel so – so good, yes love oh, suck just like that, it feels amazing when you do that.

He’ll have you perched on his lap, tits bouncing in his face while his hands clutch at your hips and move you up and down his cock, his eyes rolling to the back of his head and a moan of your name falling past his lips, small chants of yes yes yes and gasps of your name filling the air between you.

He’ll lick and suck at your clit with his head buried between your thighs, a lithe finger working in and out of you as he moans appreciatively against you, your taste on his tongue forcing him to pull back a moment to lick a long, flat stripe against your folds, his chin and lips visibly glistening as you tells you that you taste so delicious, I can’t get enough of you, give me more please my flame, I need more of you.

And when you’re gushing around his fingers a few minutes later, desperately grabbing at the pillow under your head and his hair, Kyojuro can only brokenly groan, his own orgasm not far behind yours as he thrusts his hips against the floor. You’re just so pretty and perfect and wonderful, and how can he not tell you?

And after he’s emptied himself inside of you, he’ll curl you into his arms and hold you, breathing into your ear and telling you how good you did, how you did so well and made him feel so good. Kisses are pressed against the crown of your head while he does this, his compliments sounding so genuine and reverent that you’ll be equal parts flattered and uncomfortable because god, he really means it when he says you’re the most beautiful woman in the world, doesn’t he?

Kyojuro of course loves to be praised in turn – any positive comment from you is met with eager and wide eyes, his ministrations and motions only increasing, his desperation to please you and make you feel good nearly palpable. Your moans of his name and cries of yes and right there and please making something smug and warm swell in his chest, his obsession only deepening because you just look so right when you’re falling apart on his cock.

He lives to please you, so please praise him – he’ll return the favor with so much passion and vigor that you’ll almost be embarrassed for him at how high and whiny and lewd the groan he lets out when he spills inside you is.

Almost, because he’ll follow it up with heavy breaths and a stuttered that – that was for you, because of you, because you feel so fucking good.

Oral Fixation

There’s something about the taste of you that he simply can’t get enough of. Even before he stole you away, Kyojuro was quick to snatch any small item of yours that could potentially taste like you.

He managed to snag the small vial of lip balm he’s seen you use – the one that his eyes always get stuck on, watching the way you pucker and pop your lips, the smacking noises obscene and provocative and sexy. You’d left it on the table after a lunch he’d invited you to, and Kyojuro – ever the gentleman – had pocketed it with the intention to return it to you later. Only, he didn’t – it stayed in his pocket until later that night when he’d fished it out, carefully opened it, and pressed the nearly empty balm against his own lips, closing his eyes and sighing because oh, if he licks his lips now he’ll taste you…

He’s got a cloth he keeps in his pocket that’s reserved specifically for you – when you’re eating with him, going on outgoings that are strictly platonic to you but are anything but to him, he’ll use the cloth and wipe off bits of food sitting on your lips, some stray sauce on the corner of your mouth. The cloth is kept in his pocket until later, when his cock is bright red and swollen and drooling precum for you, his lip caught between his teeth as he uses the cloth to tug and twist at his sensitive head, the friction of the cotton against his skin making him shiver and writhe and curl his toes all the while your name falls from his lips.

And once he’s done, he’s quick to bring the cloth up to his mouth, tongue lolling against the material as he tastes his cum and you mixed together, a flavor that gets the last sad little spurt of cum oozing from his swollen tip, the sensation making him groan lowly.

Really, he just likes the taste of you – and once your physical relationship begins, this penchant he has for tasting you only increases.

Now, he doesn’t have to be sneaky – no longer does he have to rely on placing your used utensils in his mouth in order to get even the slightest bit of you on his tongue.

Now he can just wrap an arm around your waist and press you close, mouth dipping down to slot his lips against yours, a moan muffled against your mouth because god, you’re so sweet and warm and he wants to drink in everything you can give him.

(Yes you’ve watched him kiss you and pull back, swallowing and licking his lips, telling you that your spit tastes delicious, my flame, please give me more before diving back in, kissing you and sucking on your tongue so hard you can practically feel his desperation.)

Now he can press kisses against your neck and jawline, tongue lathing up and down your collarbones while he licks and sucks, the dark bruising making his eyes light up and his breathing a bit uneven.

(Normally Kyojuro is strictly against harming you, but there’s something about hickeys that makes him sway ever so slightly on this rule. Perhaps it’s because he’s the cause of the dull pain, or maybe it’s because every time he’s working at your neck and shoulders you always let out these little whines that go straight to his cock, your fingers gripping tighter at his hair. Sometimes, when he’s particularly pent up and desperate for you, he swears he can even feel your cunt throbbing through the layers of clothing separating you, as if you’re just as needy and frantic for him as he is you. Ah, what a lovely thought.)

Now he can just gently press you against the wall, getting to his knees and throwing your leg over his shoulder while he pushing the pretty robe he’d bought you up to your hips, exposing the skimpy panties he'd bought for you as a present.

(They’re red, of course, with pretty lace details around the edges and a little bow at the very top, almost as if you’re a present for him to open and play with. He’d bought them for you before he’d stolen you away, gifted them to you with a bright smile and not an ounce of shame, and had insisted you wear them despite your discomfort after noticing an odd stain on them – one that left a dark spot that Kyojuro refused to explain, only laughing and pressing a kiss to your cheek when asked.)

He’ll lick over your clothed cunt, humming against you and chuckling when you squirm at the vibrations. He’s suckling at your clit over the cloth, those eyes of his staring up at you from between your legs, the taste of you strong and making his mind spin even before he’s actually touching you.

But soon, Kyojuro can’t settle for just your phantom taste – he needs more, needs you, and so he’s suddenly standing up, picking you up with no effort and settling you down onto the bed, immediately laying between your legs. He’s spreading your thighs and licking his lips, rolling your panties down and off your legs before absolutely devouring you – he’s licking and sucking loudly enough to make lewd, wet suction noises fill the room.

There’s wet schluck-schluck noises ringing in your ears as he pushes a finger inside, all the way down to his second knuckle and curling them, the pads of his fingers brushing against the spot that gets you moaning and your hips bucking up to meet his thrusts. All the while he’s playing with your clit, tongue tracing shapes and spelling his name, humming and moaning and sucking at you like a man starved. His stamina is high, and he’s keeping up the pace until you’re clutching at his hair and moaning his name like a prayer, the pleasure making you writhe and gasp and gush all over his fingers and chin.

But once Kyojuro gets a taste of you, he’s not simply satisfied with just one orgasm – he needs more, to feel you clenching down on his fingers and your clit throbbing as he fucks you through the high.

He’ll simply laugh at your whines of too sensitive, I can’t Kyo please, keeping his steady pace and pressing a kiss against your clit that makes your hips jerk.

You can do it, he’ll tell you, slick and your cum smeared all across his lips, chin and cheeks. You can give me another one, let me make you feel good, my flame.

And even while he’s fucking you his fixation doesn’t decrease – you feel like heaven around his cock, sure, with your warm, soft walls clenching down on him and your slick coating his thighs, but that doesn’t stop his fingers from snaking up and pressing against your lips.

He'll push them inside two at a time, hot breaths against your ear telling you to suck, ngh suck for me, his hips snapping into you with more fervor as he feels your lips close around him, throat tightening and your little gagging noises as he thrusts his fingers in and out.

You’re just so beautiful, and although his fixation mostly manifests as him using his mouth on you, he certainly won’t deny you if you were to flip the script. You get on your knees for him, licking your lips and pawing at his cock over his pants?

The pants are off faster than you can blink, his hand already at the back of your head and guiding you down his length, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he lets out a low groan of yes, o-oh, you’re so warm, I’ve been thinking of this all day-!

He won’t deny you when you press kisses against his exposed chest, your tongue tracing around his sensitive nipple and feeling the skin pebble, even grazing your teeth against the sensitive skin just to hear his breath hitch and the audible gulp that follows.

He just thinks the ultimate form of intimacy is to taste each other, and Kyojuro is always eager to get closer to you, and to prove just how much he loves you – and, of course, just how depraved you make him.

Breeding

Kyojuro will get you pregnant. It’s not even a matter of discussion as far as he’s concerned – yes, it’s a sexual fantasy for him to stuff you so full of his cum that you’re literally leaking it, but it’s more than that. He genuinely wants to build a family with you, to have you as his sweet little housewife that he dotes on and provides for and cares for, and to complete the fantasy he needs a few children running around.

He gets this dopey grin and blushing cheeks when he imagines you with a toddler clutching at your leg and a baby nursing at your breast, something inside his chest swelling with pride and happiness. And so, every time he fucks you he will be finishing inside, stuffing you as full as he physically can.

The image of you pregnant gets his breathing shallow; something about seeing you round, your breasts swollen and nipples so sensitive you sharply gasp when he so much as brushes against them making him shift his pants, his skin feeling hot and clammy. He likes the idea of knocking you up so that you’re completely, utterly dependent on him for every little thing – you’ll be so sweet and lovely and incapable, allowing him to attend to your every need. You’ll need him to walk any significant distance, to reach things on high shelves, to help you get up and out of chairs, to help with anything, really, and Kyojuro is more than happy to aid you in your time of need.

But even outside of actually getting you pregnant, the kink also satisfies some of his more shameful needs, some of his more masculine and carnal needs. After all, breeding you means coming inside you, filling you to the brim with his cum, something only he can provide you.

There’s just something about the idea of leaving you full with something so utterly him that gets him hot under the collar, his fingers twitching eagerly because just the thought makes him desperate to get his hands on you. He's not too terribly possessive, all things considered, but something about the idea of his cum settling inside you just feels right in a way he can’t describe, almost as if you were made to take it. As if you were made to take him, really, if the way your perfect little pussy sucks him in so well is any indication.

Besides, every time he finishes inside he’ll pull back and just stare, watching with bright eyes at the way his cum slowly dribbles out of you, white staining against the curve of your ass, his fingers coming up to scoop up the leaking bits and stuff them back inside you.

(And he will finish inside every time he fucks you, and even when your fist is wrapped around his girth or your lips are pressed against his base, tip making you gag at how deep he is in your throat. He’ll warn you with a near-yell of ‘m close before pushing you down and spreading your legs so quickly that it knocks the breath out of you, nestling his tip just inside you and coming, the sheer volume and force of the spurts making you squirm because you can feel it.)

There’s lots of talk about how you mustn’t waste anything he gives you, how you must keep every last drop inside you, his voice strained and breathy as he groans that into your ear, a thrust punctuating each word and making you clutch onto him for dear life because he’s fucking you meanly, every clap of his hips against yours making you physically scoot up until you reach the edge of the bed.

There’s something about the idea of stuffing you full of his cum that makes Kyojuro near feral, his hips seeming to have a mind of their own as they snap and pound against you, his cock pushing deeper and deeper and deeper, tip nestling further inside you with every thrust.

While he’s fucking you, the only thing running through his mind (aside from the constant stream of compliments towards you and the indescribable feeling of how fucking warm you are) is a mantra of needing to get deeper, to go as far inside you as he can, to press right up against your womb so that when his abs flex and his pace stutters, a shallow gasp and low groan rolling past his lips, his cum can shoot directly where it needs to go. It can spurt and splatter and flood your cute little pussy, each twitch of his cock giving you more and more and more, until it’s literally leaking out of you, even while he’s still stuffed inside you.

And Kyojuro, ever the talkative lover, is more than happy to narrate the process – his orgasms always follow a rather wanton groan of your name, his voice strained and uneven as he tells you to take it, o-oh take it take it take it, take every fucking drop ngh yes yes yes!

He’ll press down on your stomach as he finishes, the sensation making you impossibly tighter, the motion forcing his cum to shoot even deeper into you, his eyes wide in wonder and lust as if he can see the way his cock is twitching and throbbing, pushing out everything it can give you.

His voice nearly awed as he asks if you feel that, my love? I’m breeding this lovely pussy, does it feel good? It’s feels likes heaven for me, and soon you’ll be rounded and glowing and carrying my child.

He’ll pause to press a kiss against your nipple, tongue flicking out to tease the sensitive skin, before cupping it with his hand and squeezing, his own voice turning a bit darker as he tells you that soon your breasts will be so swollen and heavy, you’ll be feeding our child, nursing our baby…

He sucks at your nipple, hard. I’m sure you’ll taste divine – you’ll give me a taste too, I’m sure.

He’ll run his hand along your stomach, sucking in a sharp breath and telling you that you’ll be full soon, that you’ll be swollen and big and his, your body proving to him exactly who you belong to, exactly who kisses you and fucks you and gives you what your body is made for.

He just really, really wants a family with you, so don’t be surprised when he forces you to lay by his side for hours after sex, his cock keeping you stuffed full, not allowing a single drop of cum to leak out, his hand pressed firmly against your stomach as he rambles on and on about baby names and how he’ll be there for the entire birth, how he hopes the baby has his hair and your personality, how he’ll protect the both of you from demons until his dying breath.

It would be sweet, really, if he wasn’t so insistent, if he didn’t have twenty names already picked out for you to choose from, if he wasn’t telling you that according to Shinobu the part of your cycle you’re currently in is your highest window of fertility, if he wasn’t clutching onto you and saying when you’re pregnant instead of if.

And when his cock slowly hardens once more inside of you, you’ll feel the palpable change in the air as he kisses your neck again, his hips slowly starting to move as he tells you that he has to make sure it took, I have to make sure you’re carrying my child… Open your legs for me, my flame, let me give you more of me.

And when he comes with a gasp of your name a few minutes later, even more cum flooding you and sending some dripping down over his cock and onto his pelvis, Kyojuro can only lick his lips, the sight of you with a rounded belly and swollen breasts making him near feral.

OTHER NOTABLE KINKS INCLUDE:

Marking

While Kyojuro isn’t the most possessive, there’s something about the idea of physically marking you as his that gets his blood rushing, heat blooming on his cheeks, a wide grin splitting across his face.

Just the thought get him eagerly pulling you closer, nudging his nose against your neck, sighing heavily and letting you feel the way his pants slowly grow tighter, his breathing growing heavier as he groans your name.

There’s just something about the idea of claiming you as his own that makes some primal, animalistic part of him light up, so be prepared to be absolutely covered in marks as your sexual relationship progresses.

Hickeys will cover nearly all of your skin, leaving no area untouched by his lips and teeth. He’ll leave love marks (as he calls them) in the shape of a heart situated on the plane of your chest, nestled right up your breasts. As he’s fucking you he’ll kiss over the area again, his hips never slowing their pace as he starts whispering your name under his breath, nearly chanting it with every clap his balls against the curve of your ass.

A ‘K’ and an ‘R’ are placed on your inner thighs, so that when he sits beside you he can reach over and grip the area, sending you a blinding grin and telling you that even under all the layers of clothing he can feel your love. Once the marks fade he’ll spend hours between your legs again, remaking the hickies so there’s a letter per leg, so that every time he spreads them, excitement bubbling in his chest, he’ll see his letters, a mark of ownership, a reminder that you’re his and his alone, that your pretty skin and plush thighs and that lovely little pussy of yours is completely and utterly his.

It’s just fucking hot to Kyojuro, so when he pins you down, your body nude and bared for his eyes, know that he’ll kiss you, lips working eagerly against your own, tongue coaxing yours in an effort to get you to engage, groans and grunts tumbling into your mouth as his hands wander down to grope at your breasts, squeezing your side, toying with the pubic hair settled on your navel.

He’ll kiss you, then let his lips travel down, dipping to your neck to suck harshly against the skin, then down to your collarbone to lick and suckle, then to your nipples to bruise the area beside your areolas, then down your stomach and to your thighs, mumbling praises and sweet words of affirmation as he goes.

You’ll wince and avoid looking at yourself in mirrors after he’s through with you, but just know that Kyojuro does it all out of love.

He doesn’t enjoy hurting you, but the pleasure and pride that swells in his chest when he sees you with his markings outweighs his small worries at your bruising.

Just let it happen, really, because he’ll be getting his way, one way or the other, and while eventually the dull throb and sting as he works section after section will grow slightly painful, at least his fingers are talented – after all, you can handle the hickies when he’s making you gasp his name, cream on his fingers and beg for more, more, more, right?

Choking

While Kyojuro is generally the more dominant partner in bed (regardless of your personal tastes – he likes to feel like your provider, so even if you want to peg him until he’s a sobbing, begging mess, little mewls of your name and p-please, need to come so bad slipping past his lips, you’ll likely be the one trapped below him), there’s a certain allure to letting you take charge for a night every few weeks, letting you take the reigns for a few minutes.

There’s something oddly sexy about watching the way the power slowly goes to your head, how your eyes grow darker, your actions more passionate as you bounce up and down on top of him, your hands planted against his chest, pinching at his nipples, shoving your tongue down his throat all while he groans and enjoys the view.

He just likes to see the way you use him, his body simply a toy for you to get off on. It’s the ultimate form of caring for you – and seeing the way you’re so unabashedly pleasuring yourself gets his blood pumping so hard he can hear it in his ears, the sight of you so raw and natural and not at all the shy little thing you were when he first spread your legs all those months ago making him lick his lips in anticipation.

And yet, there’s a certain habit you’ve developed in these moments that Kyojuro absolutely cannot get enough of – that is, when your soft fingers wrap around his throat, your skin against his, pressing just hard enough to disrupt the blood flow to his brain, the feeling dizzying and disorienting and wonderful.

His eyes literally roll to the back of his head when you do this, your hips snapping and scooping above him as you tell him to hold it in, be a good boy, don’t come yet.

He’s groaning and wildly bucking his hips, face turning slightly red as you lean down to kiss him, your lips harsh and demanding, the kiss rough and forceful.

It’s heaven, Kyojuro thinks, as you clench around him, your fingers following suit, his cock twitching inside of you, his hands coming up to grope and knead at your ass as he bounces you harder and harder, the desire to come inside you suddenly washing over him.

It’s something he finds himself craving as time goes on, and so while he’ll more often prefer to be the one on top, in charge, calling the shots, be prepared for the nights where he wants to let you do all the work.

But really, once you’re straddling him, sinking down onto his drooling, leaking tip and grinding, your hand wrapped around his throat, he’ll often do most of the ‘work’ – desperate, sad little humps up into you with his heels planted against the futon mat that’ll leave you gasping and going limp, his cock reaching parts of you unexplored by your own fingers.

And when you lean down over him, your pretty face just inches away from his own flushed you’re your fingers wrapped around his neck, Kyojuro will eagerly obey when you tell him to open wide, his cock throbbing inside you as your spit lands against his tongue, your taste and the lewd sight of you spitting in his mouth making his orgasm hurtle towards him. As soon as he eagerly swallows his eyes are going wide, his words rushed and slurred and strained as he tells you that it’s so fucking good, oh here it comes, shit it’s coming, it – it’s-!

He just really, really likes the way it feels to have your pretty fingers around such a vulnerable area, so get used to it – because Kyojuro is a passionate man, and as his lover, you must be just as passionate, too.

BIGGEST FANTASY:

As a general rule, Kyojuro is vocal about every sexual desire he has with you. He doesn’t believe in keeping secrets, especially in the context of sex where you could both be benefitting.

He wants to share every explicit, lewd fantasy he has of you simply because he thinks you might enjoy it – you might have even been dreaming of doing the same thing, you were just too shy to tell him.

(He knows how you are – how you’re so very shy, always seeming to skirt away from him when he nears you, your wide-eyed looks you send him when he’s talking to you, how your hands are clammy and you’re shaking ever so slightly when he pulls you in for a kiss with far too much tongue.)

And so, Kyojuro is open and honest; painfully so, really. He wakes up one morning with you in his arms, your eyes already open as he leans in and kisses the shell of your ear, sighing and pressing his navel against your ass, telling you in that husky morning voice of his that he’d dreamed about tasting you until you cry, my flame, doesn’t that sound nice?

(And of course, you’ll not be leaving that bed for hours after the fantasy is spoken out into the air – Kyojuro is nothing if not determined, and his tongue seems to never tire.) After returning home from a mission, he’s announcing to you that he’d passed by a risqué local shop and saw a drawing of a man and a woman where the woman was on top and oh, why didn’t you tell him that women sometimes enjoyed being the more dominant partner?

You’ll be left to flounder, unsure of how to respond, but it’s too late because Kyojuro is already laying down on his back, his pants pulled down to his knees and his expression eager, the smile across his lips blinding as he tells you to come here, my love, the woman in the drawing looked to be enjoying herself, and I want to see that on you as well!

However, because he has no sexual experience before you, he doesn’t harbor any particularly intense fantasies for you. He’s excited and aroused by the simple, straight-forward sex that he knows produces a child – missionary, mostly, or positions that involve spreading your legs and maintaining eye contact while he slides in, a hand cupping your cheek while he groans and tells you in a strained voice that you’re so beautiful, you feel so – ngh, so good!

And so, after a one-off chat with Tengen about wifely matters (he’s announced to the other Hashira that he has a wife, though none of them have met you or know that you aren’t actually his partner, just the woman he considers to be his wife), Kyojuro asks with complete sincerity if his friend has any advice in the bedroom.

Tengen had just laughed and clapped Kyojuro’s back, telling him that sex should be flashy, so don’t do the same things over and over! Mix things up – women love variety, so try some new positions, or a different method of pleasuring her!

When asked what other positions to try, Tengen had grinned, his eyes widening a bit as he said bend her over, she’ll feel you deeper and the view will drive you crazy.

And so, that night after coming home to you, he’d gulped, his eyes narrowing in on your ass, his voice a bit gruff as he told you to come with me, my love, I want to try something new.

“Are you comfortable?” Kyojuro asks, though he sounds distracted.

Swallowing, you nod, embarrassment clear on your face. This position was beyond humiliating – Kyojuro hadn’t explained much when he approached you earlier in the evening, simply looking at you with those unblinking eyes and telling you to get undressed because he had something new he wanted to try out.

And now, here you are, on your hands and knees on your shared bed, clothing neatly folded in a corner of the room. It’s cold, and the air is making goosebumps prickle along your skin and your nipples stiff.

If Kyojuro notices you shiver, he doesn’t say anything – instead, you hear him gulp, the sound suddenly much closer.

“You’re very beautiful…” He whispers, so quiet and unlike him that it makes you glance back over your shoulder. The sight you’re met with makes your embarrassment deepen, a mixture of shame and bashfulness seeping into your every bone.

He’s standing behind you, those wide eyes of his fixated on your exposed cunt, with his cock in hand. Thick fingers wrap around his base, visibly squeezing, his balls periodically twitching even without being touched. He looks entranced – awed, almost, presumably by the sight of your ass presented on display like this.

“Kyojuro…” You start, anxious to just get started so he’ll stop staring at you like you’re something holy and sacred. Wiggling your hips, you hope he’ll get the message.

Instead, you hear a muffled groan and suddenly feel air brushing against your sensitive folds, the sensation making your arms feel a bit weak. You feel a sudden slimy warmth, and wet noises ring in your ears as Kyojuro presses his tongue against you, dipping in briefly to taste and rub at anything he can reach. Heavy breaths are muffled against your cunt, but the insistent press of his chin against your clit makes it difficult to focus.

“Kyo – oh, Kyo please need you to fuck me, don’t tease me.” Your whines make him pause for a moment, before he slowly pulls back, pressing a single long kiss against your folds that has you biting your lip.

“Very well, you’ll have to tell me how it feels, love. Tell me everything you’re feeling.” He asks, gripping his base again and rubbing the tip through your folds, collecting your slick at the tip. His breathing is still loud, the way he’s sucking in air through clenched teeth making it obvious just how strongly the sight of you bent over and exposed like this is affecting him.

You look gorgeous – he’s intimately familiar with what’s between your legs, of course, but this view feels so lewd. He can see your pretty hole clenching every few moments, tufts of hair decorating the pretty sight, and he can even see your other hole, the one you always tell him not to touch with a squeak and a slap of his hand.

Soon he’s swallowing hard and pressing himself inside, the breath sucked out of his lungs because somehow you feel tighter like this, your cunt seeming to suck him in so tightly that it almost hurts, the sensation making his knees buckle slightly.

And you’re certainly not helping, either – as you’d promised him you’re gasping, telling him in an airy voice, “It’s so big – you’re so big, Kyo, fuck you’ve never felt so big, I can’t – you have to wait a second, please, ‘s too much-!”

And he does, with bared teeth and hands that find purchase at your ass, just as Tengen had told him to do. He’s groping at the soft flesh, grabbing handfuls and pulling them apart to get a full view. A whine slips out of him at the lewd sight of his cock buried to the hilt inside of you, the angle letting him see just how you stretch to accommodate him, even seeing the edges of his balls pressed against your thighs. It’s just too much, and as soon as your shaky ‘okay’ registers, Kyojuro’s immediately thrusting.

And the sight of him moving is even more erotic – pulling out of you and seeing the ring of white coating his base makes him lean more of his weight against you, trying to get more leverage as he thrusts back in so that he can fuck you harder, wanting to get impossibly deeper to feel more and more of you. He’s entranced, watching with wide eyes the way he appears and disappears inside of you again and again, almost lost in a trance.

Your noises have him grunting, the desperate whines and rhythmic gasps every time he sinks back into you making his orgasm come creeping up much too quickly. He’s just too overwhelmed, your pretty moans and cries of his name making his head spin.

Soon he’s bringing a leg up and pressing his foot flat against the ground, gaining better leverage and an angle that makes you scream, your cunt squeezing down on him so tightly that he struggles to pull back to just his tip. He’s seen animals do this in the wild – he’s fucking you like an animal would, mounting you and grasping at your waist to pull you back against him harder, anything and everything to get him deeper inside, to reach a part of you that he’s sure no man or even you have touched.

You’re just too damn pretty, and as he gasps your name and clutches onto you tightly enough to leave bruises while ropes of runny cum fill you, Kyojuro decides that he needs to try out all the other positions Tengen had told him about – perhaps he’ll try something called 69 with you tomorrow.

Maybe that’ll get you to scream his name like this ‘Doggy’ has.

#yandere kny #yandere demon slayer #yandere rengoku #kny smut #_lee's profiles #_kny #_kyojuro rengoku #rengoku x reader #rengoku smut

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wickedusername · 6 months

Text

Apple Red

Curse!Reader x Mahito || 18+ MDNI

Synopsis:

In which our favorite shape shifting psychopath discovers the wonders of sex with someone equally fucked up in the head, all under a philosophical motif of the Knowledge Argument/Mary's Room, a thought experiment posing that certain mental states can't be known unless you experience them yourself.

A/n: Bringing this over from AO3! It was brought about in my annoyance at every Mahito fic being non-con and others yet thinking the man is illiterate. Listen, he may have been born yesterday but he's read more philosophy than you and me. This has an overarching Mary's room motif, skim it over, your enjoyment will be increased threefold. Just like your cl- Wikipedia article if you can't watch.

Tw: dead dove: do not eat, body horror, sadomaso, asphyxiation/choking, blood kink, double penetration, p in v, anal, murder kink, necrophilia mention, shapeshifting. However!! praise kink, body worship, dirty talk, consensual sex, size kink, no actual murder takes place.

Word count: 6,1k words

Epigraph:

He lowered his abs over your back again and got close to your ear. Licks, pecks and bites peppered your back, popping up in places you know mouths shouldn't be. “The pleasure of your wet, gorgeous pussy, deep and clenching for me… No dead or unwilling thing has it. You'll come for me again, won't you, dearie?

"Absolutely feral” is not enough to describe what was going on between you and Mahito. He groped every part of you, your ass, your thighs, your breasts, the fat on your hips. Arms scratched and pinched at the muscle and fat on every part of your torso with his fingers. All while his tongue licked all over your mouth and lips, swirled around yours, elongated down to your throat. His jaw took in more and more like he would gobble you up. You had your hands way up under his poncho, scratching his back to raw flesh.

This had started as a conversation. You were barely a sketch of a curse, not rivaling the strength of the other ones you knew, but shapely enough to pass as human to those who could see you. You tried your best to mind your own business and stay in hiding, fully aware the persecution of sorcerers could end you in one fell swoop. The unfinished subway station you liked to call home was where you spent most of your time. Nestled between the decaying scaffolding, the staff room was where you sat with him, the only furnished room among the many half-finished nooks of the construction site. The bare surfaces didn't bother you, and the room had remained thankfully untouched in the two or so years since construction was halted and abandoned.

You, however, neglected none of the room. Whenever you had the chance to be around humanoid curses, you made a point to invite them over. You loved to banter and befriend, but just as much as you loved to occasionally hit the jackpot for one that you could sleep with. You didn't care to investigate your origins, but you weren’t born of anything family-friendly, you knew that much.

You'd known Mahito for a while. He was introduced to you by Kenjaku, an annoying body-hijacker who'd seeked to recruit you for his revolutionary cause. You wanted none of it, especially keen on self-preservation, but the two of you had hit it off. Two curses of the psyche had plenty to commiserate about, so you often hung around each other. And you'd just now managed to have him in your nest. Of course it wasn't every time you dragged someone to your staff room that you wanted to fuck them, and you certainly wouldn't mind if it led nowhere. But he was the most human of all curses – maybe of all there were – so of course you wanted to ask him about sex. To your surprise, his opinions were less than satisfactory.

“It's not as good as murder, to be honest.” He tapped the arm of the couch he was slouched on, staring you down with conflicting feelings. It was definitely not what he was here to talk about, but it did leave him curious.

“Are you serious? You've been doing it on things that don't move, haven't you?” It was the explanation you could conoct for why he would think that.

“I can make them move, you know? I've put the parts together, it's just not all that.” He retorted.

“It's about more than the parts. It's the entirety of the person you're with.”

“I've tried full, intact humans. The first one I, uh… killed them by accident. Another one I killed beforehand and they start going cold and don't feel as nice. I kinda gave up after that, I really don't see how it's so hyped.”

“Yeah, that's not the fun way to do it. You're trying to get on the level of fragile, puny humans.” You looked to the side in pure contempt.

The disgust for human weakness nearly seeped out of you. You'd tried humans, and as good as sex was with anyone, you also boasted similar results. You had no need to kill or force, like he likely did. They flocked to you. It was easy, it was your nature. But it always ended in a body to discard. You did wonder, partly, if it was in the inherent fact of being a curse that your drive to fulfill your desire ended in human death. But killing wasn't the drive you yearned for, and you were more than happy to have something that would live to fuck another day. It was the whole reason you enjoyed other curses much more, anyway.

“Alright, I'll bite.” Mahito smiled. “What's the fun way?”

Your lips curled into a smile worth a hundred bucks. Now here you were, gripping his hair, licking his teeth and waiting eagerly for what came next.

Mahito lifted you up into his lap with what seemed like two arms wrapping around your thighs like thick belts. Two others squished and pulled on your asscheeks, torturing them, digits slipping forward to tease your clothed entrance from below. You wrapped your legs and arms around him, even though you didn't need to make much strength to be carried around. Against your belly, his hard-on pushed a tent on his leather pants. He pulled away from you with a laugh.

“This really isn't bad!”

“We haven't even started.” you leaned into his ear, scraping your lips against it before biting hard at his earlobe. “The fun part is that you can fuck me up”.

His eyes gleamed with fun and desire.

“How?” He pinned you against one of the walls. His smile was unnaturally wide, tugging at the muscles of his cheeks, pushing them up against his lower eyelids that squeezed against his fiery wide glare.

“However you want.” Your own stare burned with passion, knowing the idea of destroying you would fuel his fire to the maximum.

His dick twitched in his pants, achingly hard. A fifth arm stretched out of his stitched, toned right shoulder. His hand caressed the side of your face, combing your hair slowly back, tucking it behind your ear, before gripping your face roughly and pushing your head against the wall. He deformed it, veins and muscles bulging and pulsing in waves through your face and down your neck, while you healed up, undoing his damage and rolling your eyes back into your head. You savored his torture. His mismatched eyes burned with glee and he laughed, near maniacally, at your enjoyment.

“You-! You are too much fun!” He licked his lips and continued to cackle, like he had a front seat in the world's best joyride.

“More from the inside.” You teased. You lowered your hand to his pants and wrapped your fingers around the outline of his dick. He hissed as you stroked him, making you bite your lip at the sound.

The hand that was deforming your face stopped its transfiguring and moved to the top of your head, where it pulled your hair. He pressed your body further against the wall, giving you enough stability to bring both your hands to his pants, unzip them and allow his cock to spring free from the leather. You wrapped your hand around it and stroked him. Starting at the base, where it sprouted through the patch of brown fur that framed it, all the way to its pink round head. Your other hand caressed his abdomen, circling and clawing at the stitches in his cum gutters.

Mahito moaned and bucked his hips into your touch, squeezing your ass and thighs harder, pulling on your hair tighter. His eyes fluttered and his mouth hung open, before his sight landed on your chest, rising and falling under your tight fit shirt.

You encouraged him with a hum and the hand that was pulling your hair moved downwards, where its forearm split into halves. They promptly scrunched the cloth at the neck seam, one on each side, and ripped it apart, turning it to a cluster of circular tatters hanging from your waist and arms. His lips let out a long loud breath with the aftersound of a suppressed moan, almost like he was trying not to drool at the sight. He buried his face in your chest with nothing but nirvana in his mind.

You held the back of his head and nuzzled his hair as you kept stroking him, his pleasure-filled expression hidden between your breasts. Your breaths were heavy, and he would not stop letting out quiet grunts at your handjob. His hands roughly massaged your ass and the flesh belts around your thighs cut circulation to your feet, making them tingle. The arm that had split in two reunified, being joined by a sixth on the left side, and they both fondled your breasts. Mahito squeezed his face between the mounds and placed unrestrained bites and licks on them. When he felt himself getting close, he placed his lips against your ribs and muttered into them.

“You were right. I need the rest of it. I need to get in you.”

Mahito gripped your shoulders and slammed you against the wall once again, making you fumble the stroking rhythm you had. With the other pair of arms he gripped your asscheeks like rough dough and pulled you against him, rubbing his dick over your crotch. His nails dug in to the point of piercing cloth.

He brought his arms down from your breasts to fumble with the string of your pants. Unable to pull them or rip them away because of your legs around him, he turned around and let go of your ass, making you fall head-first into the floor. An unpleasant cracking was heard and blood splattered in a beautiful halo around your head, and you just healed the concussion shut. The only thing off the floor were your legs, still held at the sides of his hips. He stepped back and pulled your pants off with two hands at the rim and the two belts at the thighs, now sliding down to your knees and shins. When the pants were off, he tossed them to the side and recoiled the belts back into his body.

With now four arms, he crawled over you and pressed your legs apart. Mahito ripped the underwear you had like it was made of paper, throwing the pieces to the side. He held his dick in one hand, gently rubbing the head against your labia.

“God, I'm going to ruin you.” He grinned with a sing-sing tune of pure glee.

You grabbed him by the poncho and pulled him down to your level so you could talk.

“Think I'm not already rotten?” You whispered into his ear and licked your bottom lip, awaiting his response.

Instead of a witty remark, he just buried himself into you until bottoming out. He bit his lip and swallowed a big gulp, and you salivated with lascivious anticipation watching the stitches on his neck rise and fall from the movement.

“Fuck… This is good.” He muttered almost resentfully.

He threw his head back and enjoyed the feeling of your warm cunt. It was slicker than whatever he had before. Deeper. Warmer. Everything about the real thing, with the wetness and interaction of a willing participant, didn't compare to what he had done to transfigured humans, or to corpses, or to himself. Snapping back to reality, he started moving, and without much buildup he went right to pumping into you repeatedly. He was not at all mindful of still having his clothes on, of being on the cold floor, or even recalled being able to transfigure you while he was at it. All he could enjoy was the feeling.

You gripped the cloth falling over his back and started bunching it over his stitched shoulders, tucking his hair out of the way. When you got to the rim, you pulled the poncho over his head and he carelessly shoved it aside, shaking it off of the single arm that was stuck in its segmented sleeve. His hair fell forward with the movement and it now hung over you, grazing and tickling your chest. The view of his abs over you as he pounded was significantly better than a damn windowpane poncho.

Your own hands were busy as you tugged forcefully on a strand of his hair and decided to touch yourself, bringing about the familiar buildup of heat and electricity in the pit of your stomach. He noticed your hand and soon had it joined by an extra mouth, sprouting comically forward from his lower abdomen, right through his treasure trail. The mouth licked right with and over your fingers, and soon you were holding your pussy open for him, pressing down on your labia with your fingers. Their occasional twitching, your body's way to dispel some of the tension it was building.

“Do you want to feel what it's like when something comes around you? When they squeeze with you inside?” You teased, coaxing dirty talk out of him.

“I do… Come and scream my name. Fuck, I want to watch your face while you do it.”

“Then fuck me harder…” You mewled. His thrusts got stronger and he brought one of the arms sustaining his torso to grip your shoulder and push you harder against him with every pound. Your back chafed against the concrete, ripping at the skin of your scapulas. The mouth on your clit latched on and flicked its tongue around, catching the bud repeatedly.

Mahito lifted the last arm that sustained his torso from the floor, putting his weight on your thighs with the other pair. It forced them higher. It made your muscles sting. You unfolded your knees and placed your calves on his shoulders, and the position was riveting. He placed that hand on your mouth, where he pulled your lips, pinched your tongue, enjoyed the drool. Mahito straightened his back, lifting his torso away from your face. He ended up gripping your lower jaw like a handle, his knuckles under your tongue and thumb pressing into the soft spot under your chin. His nails cut the bottom of your mouth and he probably dislocated your jaw a couple of times with his thrusting, but fuck if you cared.

Your eyes rolled over as the heat built up higher and your toes curled around nothing. You thrashed your feet about in restlessness and the hands holding your thighs apart just tightened their grip, wavering with the movement of the muscles underneath them. You called out to him as promised and came around him. The pressure washed away in waves, rolling over you one by one in electric spasms. The tongue in the abdominal mouth flattened against your clit and you let it lick a trail slowly upwards. He could barely process his thoughts when the first spasm jolted your lower region.

“Ma- a- Ah!!” you fumbled your attempt to utter his name a second time.

“Ah...! Shit!” His eyes shot open and his mouth hung agape as you clenched around his dick.

He lost the regularity in his thrusting and let his sight glaze over, twitching at the feeling of your slick. The pulse brought him over the edge, and before your orgasm had fully waived he was moaning and pumping sloppily into you, spurting warm cum through your insides. His moans were even louder than yours, and his arms shook from the pleasure. Your half-lidded eyes framed by sweat met his and he had to shut them and turn his head away so he wouldn't be distracted. He moaned with the shivers that ran down his legs, his abdomen spasming and clenching. The abdominal mouth hung and drooled against your crotch, devoid of mind.

“Shit… you got so tight.” Mahito sighed, catching his breath, still coming down from his high.

“Isn't it so nice? You'll have to make me come again if you want more of that.” you giggled, partly trying to convince him to please you harder.

“Oh, I'll do so much more than make you come.” The man shook his head softly and looked down on you with a grin.

He didn't have such an issue as a refractory period. As soon as his dick went soft, he just made himself a new one and pushed that within you instead.

“Ah… More…” you cooed after his first few thrusts and it gave him a brand new idea.

Without ever pulling out, he made his cock a full double its volume. It shifted with delicious waves to the length of his foot and the thickness of a wrist. You bit your lips feeling its growth inside you, expanding your walls tighter. He pulled it out just to tease and even pushing it back took a little effort. The member stretched you open, the friction helped by all the wet and seed already inside. You felt a tinge of pride in your own pussy for taking it. He went right back to fucking. The pounding of this new dick made you feel so delightfully full, and the mild pain of his tip hitting your cervix was nothing but seasoning to your masochism. He wouldn't slide all the way in, instead he just pushed against the spongy back of your pussy until he felt too much resistance and slid back out, again and again.

The hand he once had in your mouth slithered down to your neck, where it was soon joined by the one that held your shoulder. He now had two hands on your thighs and two on your neck. He put his full weight on your trachea, and he seemed to love the feeling of wrapping his fingers around your small chunk of spine and muscle and grip it tight, with full suffocating intent. You couldn't breathe, but you didn't need to. His rhythmic slams against your cunt translated to his fingers digging harder and harder into your flesh, unrelenting as tugs on a zip tie. Pump after pump after pump, the pressure on your neck and on your cervix mixed in your head. They fought for your attention in turns with whichever felt strongest at any given second.

“Ah… I want to kill you so bad. I wanna blow you up into pieces.” Both arms pressed into your neck hard enough to scrunch it thin, folding the skin into rolls. He admired it as its color transitioned in a spotty gradient from pale to pink to red, to near grape under his fingers.

You couldn't talk, but you ran your finger under his chin and up his cheek, up to the stitches near his ear. You gripped the hair at the back of his head with both hands and held the blue-gray strands tight while he rolled repeatedly into you. He hissed in contentment at the feeling of you around him, at the sight of him around you, at the collapsing of your trachea under his hands. It made him way too aroused.

His gaze dropped slowly to your abdomen again and, with an intrusive thought, he decided to push into you until the base of his shaft. The pain stole your attention fully to your nether region. He pushed past any point of comfort into your cervix and gawked at the sight of your abdomen bulging ever so slightly to accommodate him. The sight made his dick twitch with the will to release. The feeling of pushing into your cervix past its intended size put wonderful pressure against his head. He pumped again and immediately had to stop himself because his stomach was coiling in pleasure against his will.

“Shit… I don't wanna come again already.” He let go of your neck and pulled out of you with haste, leaving with a loud sigh.

The curse panted loudly and stood up with laborious effort. He used this break to get his pants fully off. Both gasped for air, though you had much more of a reason. He wormed his legs out one after the other like boneless noodles and threw the pants in roughly the same direction where his poncho sat on the floor.

“You've made yourself such a gorgeous body.” you sat up and reached forward to grip the stitches in his thighs with admiration. You ran your digits over the raised clamps along the scar lines and resisted the urge to lean forward to kiss them. Mahito had kept human legs, even if the hairy patch around his base was still more like fur than pubes. Everything about his body was perfect to you. He snorted.

“You like it?” His smile widened. “How about this?”

With that, he split the dick mercilessly in half and reshaped both semicircles to the same girth as the first. He now had two wonderful shafts of exquisite size hanging from the soft brown fuzziness of his crotch.

“Fuck…” You whined, wordless except for the blushing in your cheeks and the glistening in your eyes. You scooted closer to him and sat up on your knees to get your mouth to the height where it could ghost over the shafts. You held them and fidgeted with their shapes, occasionally running your tongue along them, kissing their sides and cupping his balls. You looked up at him as you placed a hard lick over one of the tips and then the other in succession, tasting the precum that seeped from both. He could swear his balls ached at the sight.

“Get up and turn around for me?” Mahito grabbed both shafts and stepped back to keep you from worshiping them any longer. You bemoaned the loss, but got up and turned your back to him.

He embraced you with care and placed pecks on your neck. Mahito stretched an arm to the side and pushed the small wooden table that sat in the middle of the room against a wall. He walked forward with you until he had your legs pushing against the table’s edge and both of you faced the wall. You watched with wonder and a tinge of horror as a bramble of independent limbs split from his own and wrapped around the table.

Mahito placed a long, breathy kiss on your nape before putting his palm on your back and bending you over. You let him hold your wrists delicately and put them together above your head. He guided your forearms to lean against the wall, where he gripped them tight, making sure your hands wouldn't go anywhere. Two hands stretched from the table only to hold you by the lats, steadying you. Still carefully, the curse rubbed your shoulders and bent over you. He kissed your back and ran his other three hands down your sides, squeezing your anatomy and rubbing gentle scratches on the fats he could grip.

“You are being so wonderful, sweetheart.” Mahito placed kisses all over your back, his hair dragging ticklish paths along your sides. You looked back at him. The mood seemed to shift to something more loving than you ever expected.

“So caring all of a sudden? What's the matter, are you insecure about the b-- ahh?” He immediately shoved the top shaft inside your pussy until the base, shutting up any cocky comments coming out of you. The pain devolved your words into incoherence.

“You don't think I'm some kid, do you? I enjoy your teasing, but I'm inexperienced, not stupid. I'm being nice because I need you to relax if I want them both in.” He patted your butt and rubbed it in circles with both hands. “So you'll just enjoy it for me, yes?”

“I will… Mahito.” The line left you breathless. He was suddenly so much hotter than you'd thought. So far you thought you'd been commanding him, but it hadn't crossed your mind that he knew what he was doing. He knew what he was doing.

As he was standing behind you, he had a perfect view of your entrance dripping for him and he gripped your asscheeks and hummed while looking down at it. The way your back arched so nicely against him when he rolled his hips into you was almost as riveting and the feeling of the bottom dick rubbing against your clit with his back and forth. He pushed a few times, letting his cockhead rub on the hood of your clit, before he reached one hand around your thigh to your crotch. The man felt for your clitoris and then gave his palm a mouth to eat you out with. His fingers sprawled under your entrance, where he kept slowly rocking against you.

“Not that you don't have something I didn't know, but the missing piece was feeling it. I know plenty. It's… a Mary's room situation.” He kept talking, earnest and lost in thought while his hand sucked and licked your clit, mindlessly rubbing and patting your curves in admiration. The second shaft twitched and smeared precum on the back of his hand. “I guess it's just that… I can be too rough for humans to have any of the good stuff, I assumed I just couldn't get it.”

He placed one palm on your back and you felt the most sensitive spot of your clit peek out and expand, becoming bigger, more sensitive. Within your muscles, nerve endings branched and reached, making the pleasure increase threefold. If before you were casually enjoying his eating out, now you spasmed and lost breath as the feeling moved you dangerously up the drop of a roller-coaster. You whined incoherent.

“But you… You've shown me the pleasure in them.” He lowered his abs over your back again and got close to your ear. Licks, pecks and bites peppered your back, popping up in places you know mouths shouldn't be. “The pleasure of your wet, gorgeous pussy, deep and clenching for me… No dead or unwilling thing has it. You'll come for me again, won't you, dearie?”

“Mahito- I'm- Ah, I'm-!” Your breath hitched with the building electricity.

“That's just what I wanted to hear!” He chuckled with a genuineness that felt out of place.

The roller-coaster stopped for only a second at the peak of chilling anticipation before dropping you into a storm of pleasure, washing away. You moaned without thought, the sound echoing against the walls and bringing heat to your cheeks with the embarrassment of your pathetic noises. Your legs shook and threatened to give in, but he had more than two arms holding you tight. As you came off it your heartbeat thumped in your ears, in your chest, in your clit.

He praised you as you came, closing his eyes to enjoy your spasming velvet walls around his dick. You felt like heaven, tight, swollen to all hell, plush, malleable as a squishy toy. He couldn't believe he'd willingly discarded it as literary hyperbole. It could be as good as he'd imagined, and it was breaking him. The red of Mary's apple, sitting right in front of his eyes.

Before your mind was back to the present, he pulled out his cock dripping with slick and pressed the tip softly against your ass. With the hand that ate you out, he gathered as much wetness and he could on his fingers by rubbing them between your folds and brought that hand to your anus, where his fingers entered you to spread it all around.

He now had one hand holding your arms and one in the small of your back angling your ass up at him, another one that thrusted softly into your anus and a final one held his top shaft, preparing it to enter. You had just come off your orgasm when he pushed the shaft inside, slowly against the resistance of your ring. The burn reminded you, what you'd almost forgotten by now, that his dicks were still unpleasantly too big.

You whined and he reassured you with shushes and pats until he was in to the hilt. “You said I can fuck you up and you can't take this much? You're disappointing me…”

“It's not- a complaint.” You clarified. It really wasn't, the noises you produced were entirely reflexive.

Mahito hummed in agreement and held the bottom shaft that peeked between your thighs. He pumped it with his fist to spread the excessive precum that seeped from the tip. It had been dripping, neglected since you last licked it. He curved it towards your pussy and pushed in. You felt stuffed, entirely full, with no space left for yearning, no matter how much arousal had deepened your canal. Especially with both their sizes, it was entirely too much.

“This… is so crazy good. Even when I'm not doing anything else…” Mahito sighed as he slid leisurely back and forth into the holes, fully devoted to feeling. The pleasure of a slick recipient was doubled, occupying more of his mind than anything else had. He gripped the back of your head without looking and felt the sticky matted dirt of blood on your hair.

“Hm? What's this from?” He removed his hand in surprise.

“You… when you got my pants off.” You murmured.

“I like it.” He brought the hand to his mouth and licked the blood off it. “I think I know what I want to do…”

“I don't care what you do, just fuck me… please…” you whimpered, growing desperate at his stalling. You tried remove your hands from his grip, but they were well secured above your head. He ran that thumb over your knuckles in consolation.

“Hm, like this?” He pulled back and slammed into you in mockery.

“Yes! Please…!” you nodded vigorously.

“Is that so? I think I would rather…” He vexed and extended two of his arms forward, where they wrapped around your neck and forehead to pull your head back as far as it could bend. Your neck ached and your mouth opened wide in an effort to relieve his grip on your neck. “Even like that?”

“Anything… please-!” You begged, filling up his sadistic ego.

“Aye aye then…” he cheerfully agreed.

He held your hip with his only free hand and pounded you, over and over, without restraint. The arms that held you stretched unnaturally long to allow him to straighten his posture and pound with his full body. Grunts left his lips that sounded entirely too hot to be caused just by effort.

Mahito kept a steady rhythm and pulled your head back with his hands, forcing every muscle in the front of your neck to stretch taut. Your sight was confined to your forearms rubbing against the unpainted cement wall. His grip on your wrists turned your skin white, outlined by a flurry of red streaks. You spread your pinkies apart, trying to place your fingers on the wall, but barely achieved it, still restrained by his fist.

The hand on your neck twisted your anatomy, sending bulges of vein and muscle through you like shivers, pulsing your entire body with gross transfiguration. Not only that, but it sharpened, the web of this thumb thinning into a blade's edge and piercing into skin with his grip. You gasped in desperation as it started to dig into muscle and tried to heal the cut shut against his hand. He tightened his grip and shook your neck, back and forth, to dispel your effort.

“No.” His hand pierced further. “Let it run.”

Blood dripped down your torso, tickling your chest in its path and leaving sticky ruby trails in its wake. Drips ran down his arm and over your collarbones, contouring the mounds of your breasts, until they could reach your belly and fall to the ground, heavy with accumulated volume, unable to reach any further down and losing their grip on skin from the shaking of his pounds.

The cut burned like fire, stealing your attention from anything else. To get your focus back down, Mahito slammed into you hard and started sliding the shafts in alternating paces. He didn't need to thrust his hips: they pumped autonomously. The feeling was like nothing you'd ever had, either. You attempted to force words out of the hyperstimulating cacophony of sensations he was putting you through, shaking your attention away just to call his name. You bucked your hips backward into his thrusts, helping his movement in the only way you could.

He wrapped two more arms around your waist, gluing his body to yours again, and gripped the softness right below your ribs. You lost count of how many he had. He curved his fingers inward into the middle of your abdomen, sharpening his fingertips into precise blades, piercing at the skin and gripping as if he were going to pull out chunks with his bare hands. He gripped your fat and rammed his hips deliciously as blood ran piping hot down his forearms. The curse moaned and let his mouth hang agape, eyes half-lidded in pleasure, as the inherent eroticism of entering flesh turned him on so bad he thought he might come immediately. The pained cry that left your mouth went from his ears straight to his dick.

“Fuuuuck.” He leaned down and breathed hard against your back. The shaft in your ass twitched, bringing too much tension to his lower belly, relaying the message that with another second his balls would turn blue. You clenched your hole around it, milking it for release, and he couldn’t hold anything back. It pumped your ass full of seed, spewing jets of white inside you. Mahito placed his forehead against your spine and whined, his mouth ghosting over you with a small string of drool below. His fringe caught on beaded sweat and stuck to your back, but still he never stopped pumping. It was all only from the dick on top, the one that had been in you the longest. The one in your pussy still hurt for release, winding a fiery coil in his stomach.

His palms distorted you, shifting your insides so your flesh would compress and release against him. He was using you, making you a flesh toy, providing squeeze in his own terms. It peeved him for being too little effort from you, too close to what he already knew, but just the puffiness of your cunt against him was novelty enough. He didn't care now that he was in despair, pining for a second orgasm that didn't delay much further.

He came for the second time with cries that seemed almost painful and whipped his spine straight, carelessly forgetting himself and pulling on your head enough to snap it backwards. He moaned pathetically with the shakes of every muscle and attempted to rock his hips with faltering success. He let go of the grip in every hand and dropped his sweat-covered frame over you, pushing your body down into the table.

“Ah… ah… are you- alive?” He asked meekly at your limp, unmoving frame. He'd done things that would kill a human a few times, but he wondered if this had been too much.

“I told you I would be.” You replied with equally breathless lilt from underneath.

Happiness painted his perspective in pink and he recoiled all but two arms back while the main pair slithered underneath to hug you tenderly. The sticky layer of blood made his hug that much warmer in the literal sense, giving tangibility to the figurative warmth of his thanks. He pulled you tight into his embrace, and you folded your arms over your shoulders to pat his head on your nape, both waiting for their breaths to settle.

“I know it's been dragging out for long, but still… I don't want it to stop.” Mahito turned to nuzzle the side of your head. “I still wish I had more… more of the things only you can give.”

You pushed yourself off the table, forcing him to slip out of your holes and lift himself off as well. You turned to him and cuffed his chin to bring his lips down on yours, kissing him with sloppy nods, which one could almost mistake for a loving trade of affection. He wrapped his bloodied hands on your back, dragging trails that mixed with sweat to smear more than they should. Your lips separated and your eyes met his mismatched pair, half-lidded and full of wonder.

“Tell me…” you whispered into his lips with confidence he had expected to have snuffed out after all this.

“I want to experience your body more…” He licked his bottom lip, unable to divert his eyes from yours. “Let me find out how much I can dismantle you before you break”.

“If you still have the vigor, I'll give you something that you really never had from your attempts.”

You pushed him backwards, making him stumble with crooked steps and fall on his ass. His smile spread further than humanly possible when you got down and crawled over him, dressed in a stained scarf of blood that licked your entire torso in red.

You kneeled at the sides of his hips and reached down to ride him.

#mahito x reader #jujutsu kaisen fic #jjk x reader #mahito #mahito smut #fanfic #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #smut #dead dove do not eat

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uvuyai · 8 months

Text

𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓑𝓮𝔂𝓸𝓷𝓭.... 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈’𝐒 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓..

This event will go on for the rest of February even if I'm not finished.

Side note [02/24/24] ~ this has been cancelled due to me being busy. If you'd like, you can request which ones you wanna see.

𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏 ~ 𝑻𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒇𝒆𝒎! 𝑭𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒂 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎! 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ) 𝐿𝒾𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇𝒾𝑒

–tw. girl cock, description of furina's cock, breeding, slight perv furina, sub x dom trope, overstimulation, MINORS DNI, creampie, riding, teasing, groping, reader is the same height as her, blow job, ooc furina, tit play, im sorry if you uncomfy with this,

𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟐 ~ 𝑩𝒍𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎! 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ) 𝒢𝒾𝒻𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝐻𝓊𝓂𝒾𝓁𝒾𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 + 𝒯𝓎𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒰𝓅(not viewed as bondage)

–tw. Blood, skin carving, humiliation, skin writing, non-con, creampie, sadist!blade, spanking, porn with plot(maybe), size difference, stomach bulge, choking, overstimulation, possessive behaviors, blade is called ren, mentions of the hard R in the beginning, neglect, degradation, reader is blades reincarnated lover, prone bone, MINORS DNI, non consensual touching, nipple play, SW and Kafka is helping blade, headlocking, dub-con, blood,

𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟑 ~ 𝒔𝒖𝒃!𝑵𝒆𝒖𝒗𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎! 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ) 𝐹𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝒫𝓁𝒶𝓎

–tw.

𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟒 ~ 𝒚𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒆! 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒚 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎! 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓) 𝐻𝒶𝓃𝒹𝒸𝓊𝒻𝒻𝓈

–tw.

𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟓 ~ 𝑫𝒂𝒏 𝑯𝒆𝒏𝒈 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎! 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓) 𝐹𝑜𝓇𝒸𝒾𝓃𝑔

–tw.

𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟔 ~ 𝑱𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒀𝒖𝒂𝒏 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎! 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓) 𝐵𝑜𝓃𝒹𝒶𝑔𝑒

–tw.

𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟕 ~ 𝑪𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒆 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎! 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓) 𝐹𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝒫𝓁𝒶𝓎

–tw.

𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟖 ~ 𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒆! 𝒁𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒊 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎! 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ) 𝒩𝑜𝓃-𝒞𝑜𝓃

–tw.

𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟗 ~ 𝑺𝒄𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒚! 𝑺𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉𝒆 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎! 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ) 𝒞𝑜𝓃𝒻𝑒𝓈𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃

–tw.

𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟎 ~ 𝑻𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒇𝒆𝒎! 𝑺𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒆 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎! 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓) 𝒮𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓅 𝒪𝓃

–tw.

𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟏 ~ 𝑺𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒐 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎! 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓) 𝒟𝓊𝒷-𝒞𝑜𝓃

–tw.

𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟐 ~ 𝑽𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒔 𝑹𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎! 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓) 𝒲𝑜𝓂𝒷 𝐹𝓊𝒸𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔

–tw.

𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟑 ~ 𝑲𝒂𝒛𝒖𝒉𝒂 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎! 𝑺𝒊𝒄𝒌!𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓) 𝐹𝑒𝒆𝓁 𝐵𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒩𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈

–tw.

𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟒 ~ 𝑾𝒆𝒍𝒕 𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎! 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓) 𝑅𝒾𝒷𝒷𝑜𝓃 𝒲𝓇𝒶𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒹

–tw.

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spacedreamhead · 1 month

Text

- art by chiyaya666 on Twitter (source: pinterest)

bakugou katsuki x fem. reader

tw: 18+, angst, possessive acting and thoughts, non-consensual pregnancy, love-making, sex

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦

Bakugou had a dilemma.

He never thought that something like that happened — that he eventually fell in love. He fell in love in a young and beautiful woman. He was glad that he met you though he was in two minds.

He met some miserable, horrible things in his life; especially the war against the league of villains reminded him of his bitter past — all the terrible pain formed his character that he was now. Even though he became calmer with age, his deterrent and wild nature was still deeply rooted in his character.

Nevertheless, you chose him; of all these people in this world, you chose the infamous Bakugou Katsuki.

At that time, he tried to get rid of this feeling by ignoring you or threatening you very often. But your ridiculous, optimistic, sugar-sweet nature wrapped him more and more around your finger; left a dizzying feeling in him.

Time passed; days became months; months became years. He did not remember exactly when he got to know you exactly.

However, he was very little interested at that moment.

His eyes wandered over your curves; in this sensual position you were in, you trembled under his feather-light touches. With each further touch, he warmed your body parts and you jingled up sweetly with your black, long eyelashes. Goosebumps spread on his body before he sank completely on your body; his chest pressed against your complete breasts and pressed his hardened cock to your center.

A sinful moan deviated from his lips; he rolled his hips again and again against your wet-streaking cunt and buried his face in the crook of your neck. Furrowed eyebrows, compressed eyelids - his sight was anything but captured and he bit himself on his lower lip to refrain from further desperate sounds.

"You feel sosososo good", he murmured hotter and his right hand wandered to your left chest; pinched firmly in your now hard nipple and thus elicited a pleasurable whimper from you. "Pleasepleaseplease .. more-!!", you screamed with pleasure; your eyes squinted with euphoria. You brazenly grabbed his hair and ask for more attention.

"More?"

A bittersweet warmth snealed along his spine, while now his much larger hands, in contrast to your much smaller hands, groped you. His nose ran along the crook of your neck; he kissed a way to your auricle and soaked in your honey-sweet smell for him. His stomach twisted seductively and his spit collected in his mouth with despair and desire.

Bakugou sucked and bit into your skin on your neck and it left a sweet taste in his mouth. He moaned with euphoria as he listened to your desperate whimper and your sounds directly drove into his painfully throbbing cock. His gaze turned to your sweet pussy; your sweet, little pearl that twitched with pleasure and at this sight he dipped his tip into your cunt before he buried himself completely into your depths.

A deep murmur buzzed from his chest; he felt his own cock twitch with desire when your sensual, narrow, wet-strimming walls nestled around him, so that his eyes rolled slightly into the back of his head; you also screamed with feelings of happiness and he tried, as well as possible for him, to fuck you through your orgasm; to fuck his white, thick sperm into your seductive pussy for him.

…

However, when he thought about it at that moment, he wanted to do just that.

Before his possessive thought processes devoured him, his muscular arms wrapped around your waist and lifted your upper body up; he groped along your curved spine and bit your lower lip promisingly.

"Ka—!! ~'tsuki!", you whimpered; threw your head back and he took the opportunity to sink his tongue into your usually so gobby mouth.

"There is something I want to talk to you about", he apparently released your feverish kiss; his suddenly strict tone shook your marrow and bones.

“Huh?”

He grinned devilish at this sweetly stupid look from you.

"D-During sex?"

You whined when he irritated your hard nipple with his index finger and thumb; your eyes squinted with desire and your toes curled.

Your stuttering triggered something shaky in him; you were hardly able to form a meaningful sentence - damn it was exactly how you were dear to him. He grabbed your jaw; pressed against your cheekbones and pulled his hot cock out of your sensually dripping pussy; but roughly forced his fat, thick cock back into your little cunt and when it penetrated you briefly saw light-clear starlets.

"You will end your career as a professional heroine", he said nonchalantly, while his ruby sapphires tied you up; he saw your forehead curling with confusion.

“What? W-Why?”

Meanwhile, you tried to wind yourself out of his firm grip, but he mercilessly grabbed your hips and searched for the sensitive point in you to keep you weakly. He pressed his pelvis forward; he slowly pushed into you to bring you to the deep abyss.

"You have to stop; it's far too dangerous for you."

"I a-am a h-hero li-ike y-you!"

Yes, he knew that you were razor-sharp on him; blew up the scale of professional hero ranks with your sweet, naive behavior. However, you had wrapped him, the almighty, oh holy Great Explosion Murder God Dynamite, around your little finger; he would not let go until he reached his own goal. He stared at you promisingly and his sudden silence scared you.

„Katsuki—!?“

Not another second passed; he pressed his pelvis more against your hips and hit your cervix with the tip of his tail. Your mouth opened in shock and your eyes rolled into the back of your head, while he painfully crushed your cheeks more and more with his hand; your attention was attracted to him.

A switch lay into him; the veins on his neck pounded with anger and desire while he gnashed his teeth. He did not ask you, but demanded.

"No, darling. The professional heroes do not need a woman impregnated by the second best professional hero in Japan."

An invile whimper deviated from your sinful lips; the tears collected in the corners of your eyes rolled down your cheeks in thick drops, which he wiped away directly with his fingers. He grinned naughty when he saw you drooling lightly; you tried to free yourself from his sweet, merciless ordeal.

"It is fine. You will be a good mommy; you will be able to protect our babies. You are sosososo strong —!!", this time your tight cunt, twitching with pleasure, elicited a loud moan from him, "damn it, I will come into your sweet, little pussy; make yourself round and full that you are always dependent on my help!" His hip lost in his own rhythm as he approached his own orgasm. He could hardly hold back himself when he reached his bittersweet end; thick, white, potent seeds splashed promisingly into your cunt and he made sure that his tip touched your seductive cervix; his hot dripping sperm reached your fertile womb. The saliva collected in his mouth when he thought about how he impregnated his honey-sweet little girlfriend with his children. He sat back slightly to look at his masterpiece; watched your dazed, broken, almost powerless state in which you were. At this sight, his cock twitched with desire and he moved again; stimulated you both tortuously and wiped away your tears; he lost himself once again in a sugar-sweet rhythm that made you whimper with fear and desire.

You could not see it, but the only way to dissuade you from your successful career was to let yourself be the sweet mommy of his children.

He hummed a melody to calm you down; to make sure that you were helplessly at the mercy of his desire that you will never disappeared a senseless thought of anything.

#mha smut #bnha smut #smut #pro hero bakugou #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x reader #x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bakugou katsuki #bnha #anime

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spacebarbarianweird · 10 months

Text

Things We Deserve

Summary: Astarion re-lives one of the traumatic episodes of his life, and considers himself unworthy of love.

Pairing: Astarion x f!Tav

Tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationship, f!tav, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of past abuse

TW: a mild description of forced prostitution

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Thanks @satanicspinosaurus for your help! I live for your commentaries on ethical issues.

It is on the same corner of the street in the Lower City. Again.

A young elf is looking for a “client”. It's not difficult — he has soft white curls, a gentle smile, the body sculptured by some elven god. A glance, two, some nice words — and there is a night of passion ahead.

A half-orc, almost twice as big as the elf, grabs his chin and studies his face as if Astarion is an inanimate object. Then orders to lift up his shirt. The client looks at him with the same expression as if he were buying a horse.

His hand gropes the elf’s crotch, causing him to moan.

"Works for me", the half-orc grabs a handful of silver curls with his stiff fingers. "Never fucked an elf".

Astarion obeys. This is what he is. A mere street whore.

No, go away, you don't need to do that anymore. You are free, don't let him touch you!

Astarion knows what will come next. Two half-orcs, who despise and hate elves to their guts will really enjoy having one for themselves for the whole night.

They’ll give him pain. Disgust. Burning touches.

"Entertain us, elf", the half-orc groans pressing the Astarion’s face into the pillow.

Here’s a joke: the elf wants to die. Sadly, he is already dead. And that's his life now. Forever.

Beatings. Non-consensual sex. Or consensual? Is this what he wants? He never says “no”, after all.

I want you all to burn down, Astarion thinks spreading his legs. I want you to suffer as much as I do!

The half-orcs never give him a chance to drag them to the Cazador’s mansion. They won't die. They won't suffer. They use Astarion and then leave. A small sack of silver breaks when it is thrown on the floor.

And Astarion will have to deal with his sore body and numb mind. Forcing himself to get someone else inside the brothel, knowing too well that he is already doomed for torture because he hasn’t returned on time. Even if he delivers the most innocent and beautiful virgin to Cazador, he will be punished anyway.

Flayed with a razor. What? He is a vampire. He will regenerate.

Astarion opens his eyes and finds himself on the floor.

Where is he?

It's not a brothel. More like an Inn?

Reality slips back into his mind, replacing the awful visions of the past.

It wasn't real. Of course, it wasn't.

He doesn't have to sell his body anymore. He doesn’t have to sleep with people he doesn't like and want. He won't be beaten for saying “no”. He even has the luxury to say “no” to Tav, the only person whose body he enjoys.

But two hundred years of memories are too vivid. Tortures. Humiliation. Misery. Forced prostitution. He had to do the most disgusting things on his master's whims, and Astarion is afraid nothing will ever wash it away.

The flood of darkness flushes his brain again. Astarion rises up on his knees as if in a desperate prayer.

Why him?

Why did it happen to him?

His life was stolen. His personality, his future, his past. All was brutally taken away along with his beating heart.

Leaving only pain and disgust.

Tears burn his skin. The scars hurt as if they are still fresh and bleeding.

He was stripped away of everything. Of freedom. Of dignity. Of his own self-respect.

The person he could have become. The future he could have embraced.

Why?

Why?!

He digs his nail deep into his skin as if trying to peel it off. He is a vampire. It will regenerate.

Touches. The smell of unwashed bodies. Movements inside him. The fake pleasure. Pain. Always — pain. Either physical or mental, but often both.

He clenches his fists and groans like a wounded animal.

"Astarion"

A gentle voice resonates with his broken thoughts.

“Astarion, are you with me?”

He looks up and sees Tav. She sits in front of him. Concerned face. Worried eyes. She doesn’t move, doesn’t try to touch him. Like he's a person.

Like he's worth something.

Like he's broken and she needs to be careful.

"Oh, hello, darling", the mask is on again. "I am sorry. I've been carried away a bit. Tell me how was your day in the sunlight."

Tav sighs. “Astarion, I returned an hour ago. And you’ve been like that all this time.”

"Darling, you could just call me over”, Astarion smiles.

"I have done it five times."

“Oh. Then … “

“Astarion, I know when your smile is sincere and when it’s not. Don’t force yourself.”

He stops and sits back.

“May I touch you?”, she asks.

He nods. The caress sends a shiver down his spine and Astarion flinches avoiding looking at Tav.

He remembers. Again, and again. Never-ending tortures disguised as pleasures. Things he would have never done voluntarily. The dirt on his skin. The poison on his tongue.

Astarion wants to hide. He wants to disappear. He wants to run away.

Tav crawls closer to him to hold him in her hands.

He shivers.

“Hush, I am here. Tell me what is plaguing you.”

He almost orders himself to relax. Tav is here. Tav loves him. Tav doesn’t judge. Whatever he tells her, she won’t get angry. She won’t hurt him. She won’t punish him. Tav won’t use him for sex and pleasure. It will never happen no matter what he does.

He can run away. He can say “no”. He can fight back.

"Just a memory of a certain night in the lower town. A night of... what I usually was supposed to do. I...” the words stuck in his throat. “I am tainting you, Tav. I am ruining you.”

"Stop", Tav puts her chin on his shoulder nuzzling his collarbone.

"I am a terrible person, Tav. I truly am. It all happened to me and I sometimes think what a terrible person I used to be if I inflicted it all upon myself.”

Instead of answering, Tav holds him tighter as if not to not allow him to drown in dark waters.

"Do you remember anything from your past life?"

"No"

"Then why do you think you were a bad person?”

“Because — … “

He doesn’t know the answer. A corrupt magistrate who would easily ruin people’s lives. An arrogant racist who hated everyone who didn’t belong to the pure fairy kin.

But was it true?

“Listen, Astarion. I won’t pretend I know what you were like back then. I won’t lie by saying I know why it happened to you. But everything you “know” about your past life comes from Cazador. What if it was just another of his tortures? He wanted you to believe you were a bad person. He wanted you to think you were guilty. I know that type. It’s a special pleasure for them to torture good people. He — “

“Made me a street whore.”

He spits the last word. Yes, that is what he was all these years. He can mask it all with fancy words. Conquests, lovers, seduction. When it was just abuse.

Words spill out of him.

"Sometimes I wasn’t even supposed to drag anyone to the mansion. It was more like retrieving information by doing the only thing I knew how to do well. Sometimes it was an order to pleasure someone - as a reward for them. Sometimes it was just pointless. Just one more thing to break me even more.”

"You say like you did it of your own free will", she says.

"I-"

"You did it because you were like a puppet. Because it was impossible to say “no”. The moment you set yourself free, you stopped doing that."

"And the first thing I did was seduce you!”

She cups his face and kisses his forehead. It causes another flow of tears.

“I have my own free will, too,” she says. “Do you think I would sleep with you if I didn’t want to? I am not the person who hooks up with men in brothels and I am not the person who would enjoy a sentient trophy to fuck. It’s not normal to find people on streets and treat them like objects.”

Tav cradles him in her arms. Astarion’s muscles are still tense. He can’t do anything about that. Maybe, if Tav leaves him for a moment, he will find a way to relax but the mere thought of staying alone scares him.

She kisses him. Saying all the sweet words she knows to soothe his worries.

"I have an idea," she finally says. “Could you lie on your stomach?"

“What for?”

Tav kisses his neck.

"Please?"

He is trying to lie on the floor but Tav stops him.

“On the bed.”

He hesitates but agrees. Astarion puts his hands under his cheek. His bare back is exposed and it causes him to clench his fists again.

“I will stop if you feel uncomfortable, love. Just tell me and I will stop”

He nods. Tav saddles him with her hips and presses hands on his ribs.

“Can I touch your scars?”

“Yes.”

Tav presses arms into his skin causing a pleasant pressure. The fingers massage his back but there is nothing sexual about it. It's not a premise, not a prelude. It will lead to nothing. He won’t have to pay back.

The hands massage his back, strongly and gently.

"You have beautiful hands”, Tav murmurs. “They can do so many things —”

Yes, he thinks darkly, bringing pleasure mostly.

“They can sew, embroider. Pick up lockers. Steal pretty things. I like watching you doing tricks with coins. Can’t take my eyes off. Speaking of which… ”

Tav touches his curls.

“You have incredible eyes. Crimson red – “

The color of blood.

“The color of wine”, Tav proceeds. “You are always vigilant, like a cat on a hunt. You notice small details and see things I don’t.”

Tav moves a bit to be able to press a kiss on the crown of his head.

“You are so smart. You know so many things.” She gently touches his right ear. “I love your ears and how they peek out of your hair. They are so adorable especially when they twitch a bit, reacting to sounds or to your jaw movements.”

She keeps talking to him, massaging his back. The words of reassurance, of love, sound like a prayer. The touches and kisses cover his skin like a healing ointment.

Astarion feels protected. Loved.

And then it’s just too much.

He bursts into tears. Desperate, painful. Tears rip his chest apart causing pain in the throat.

Tav stops and gets off him allowing him to lay on his back.

“Astarion… Did I hurt you?”

He wants to say something but he can’t. He cries like a child abandoned in the streets. Cries like he did many years ago when the first tortures were inflicted upon him. When he realized no one would save him. That the Gods were silent and merciless.

“Astarion…”

All the darkness he has in his heart is spilling through the tears. They wash away the pain and disgust like rain washes dirt in the Lower City.

With effort he pulls Tav to him pressing her to his chest. She wraps her hands around him.

“Thank you”, he mutters through tears.

They sit like that for an eternity. Astarion listens to Tav’s heartbeat and breathing. He remembers her first reaction to his stories – anger. Pure, livid anger. Anger to people who did this to him. Not only Cazador but everyone who treated him like an object. And sorrow – she mourned his past along with him.

She is his happiness. The happiness he has never considered worthy of. He has found it with her. And he will be forever grateful for her patience and care.

“Tav?”, he whispers but she doesn’t reply. He pulls away a bit and sees she is asleep.

Astarion chuckles and helps Tav to lie on the bed beside him. He tucks her into the blanket and makes sure she lies on the dry side of the pillow (not the section damp with his tears).

And then, he begins whispering words like a prayer.

Thank you. Thank you for existing.

Tag List

@tragedybunny @caitlincat-95 @tallymonster @astarionsbeloved @lumienyx @fayeriess @elora-the-slutty-songstress @veillsar @astarion-imagine-archive @micropoe10 @starlight-ipomoea @herstxrgirl @theearthsfinalconfession @ashrio20 @not-so-lost-after-all @vixstarria @wintersire @marcynomercy

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sadseungmin · 3 months

Note

Okay- I love your dark content but how dark are you willing to go?

Because I have haunting Adeline-esque thoughts about Chris

♡ being stalked by a psychotic bang chan ♡

psychotic bang chan x afab reader | dead dove | nsfw (MDNI)

p.s. i hope this is to your liking, whatudowhennooneseesyou!

⚠︎ tw: non-consensual elements (i.e somonophilia, forced bondage), physical abuse

♡ *̥˚ psychotic!chan watches you relentlessly *̥˚ ♡

Chan's obsession with you is deeply invasive and sexual in nature. His stalking begins with following you around town; he memorizes your schedule and takes note of the places you frequent. It quickly escalates into something more sinister and intrusive. Chan is aware of your schedule, so he knows when you're not home and how long you typically spend out. Using nothing more than a knife to manipulate your lock, he breaks into your home to place hidden cameras in your bedroom, living room, and bathroom.

Chan goes even further using the knowledge gained from his undetectable surveillance of you...

psychotic!chan uses hidden cameras: The hidden cameras being used are tiny, and therefore cannot be seen by you. They are used to watch your most private moments. He uses this footage to understand your habits, preferences, and vulnerabilities.

psychotic!chan knows when you're asleep: Chan sneaks into your home while you're asleep, touching you gently and whispering in your ear. He leaves subtle traces of his presence in the form of semen, hickies, and finger-shaped bruises. Fondling your breasts, he gropes the flesh, tugging and mouthing on its nipples as soon as they harden. He plays with your pussy, rubbing its clit through the fabric of your panties. When you leak slick, he dips his head between your thighs to inhale the sweetness of it. Your stillness and sleepy whimpers of pleasure spur him on every time. He finishes on your face, stomach, or thighs before slipping back out into the early morning.

psychotic!chan sexually manipulates you: Chan uses the information he's gathered from surveillance to manipulate his sexual encounters with you. He watches you masturbate in rapt fascination, noting how many fingers you use and how you touch yourself—whether you rub your clit fast or slow, in circular motions or vertical. He studies the kind of porn you consume and the Twitter accounts you follow for explicit videos. Chan even knows how long you can withstand your favorite vibrator without removing it from your pussy—how long it takes for you to squirt or cream all over it. Using this intimate knowledge, he coerces you into fulfilling his desires, framing it as your own fantasies or needs.

"Don't be scared, baby—I didn't mean to wake you. Shh, go back to sleep while I rub your clit. Surely, you don't mind, right? Isn't this how you like it to be touched? Don't deny it, y/n. Look how soaked your panties are! I can feel your clit twitching for me. Your poor little pussy is just aching to be stuffed, yeah? I can help with that."

♡ *̥˚ psychotic!chan obsessively collects your personal belongings *̥˚ ♡

Chan's obsession with you extends to collecting personal and intimate belongings. He steals your used underwear, jewelry, perfume bottles, and makeup items, among other miscellaneous things. He even takes your bed sheets and blankets, keeping all the stolen items in a hidden shrine dedicated to you. Chan needs to feel connected to you at all times, using these items not only to feel closer to you but also to assert dominance and intimidate you.

Chan goes even further using these items to understand you more...

psychotic!chan worships you: On the rare occasions Chan is not observing you via surveillance, he spends hours at his hidden shrine, worshiping and fantasizing about you. He strokes himself to the thought of you, wantonly moaning out your name, and finishes on the stolen items. Once he's done, he meticulously cleans them, only to cum on them again when his cock is ready.

psychotic!chan uses the items on you: Chan uses your stolen items as leverage in sexual situations. Remember that hairbrush you really liked? It's been missing from your vanity, and you've searched your home top to bottom and never found it. Well, Chan stole it weeks ago. Now, one of his favorite things to do is tie you up with your own used underwear and use the handle of that hairbrush to edge you for hours until you're crying, squirming in your restraints, and begging for release.

psychotic!chan controls your environment: Aside from stealing your things, Chan subtly redesigns your living space to his liking whenever he sneaks in. He moves your belongings, sometimes replacing them with items he prefers, gradually chipping away at your personal space.

"I swear, you're a goddess. Awe, I know, baby—you want to be untied, yeah? But how can I worship you when you push at me and try to run away? Besides, you look so beautiful all tied up with your mouth stuffed and that lovely hairbrush stretching your hole."

♡ *̥˚ psychotic!chan becomes a permanent fixture in your life *̥˚ ♡

Chan becomes an omnipresent force in your life as his obsession with you drives him to take further drastic measures to ensure he's always present. His control over your life becomes absolute, extending into the most intimate aspects, where he weaponizes your vulnerabilities to ensure you can never escape him.

Chan goes even further to ensure he will always be in your life...

psychotic!chan uses physical control: Chan continues to use his physical presence to intimidate and coerce. He ensures you feel powerless to resist, using threats or displays of dominance to keep you compliant. He's not above slapping, choking, spanking, or cutting. You may be his goddess, but even goddesses need to be put in their place on occasion—face down, ass up, knees sore, and holes viciously plowed into until their insides are molded to the shape of their worshiper's cock and their minds are too muddled to think.

psychotic!chan uses total domination: Any attempt to regain autonomy and remove Chan from your life is futile. But for him, this isn't enough—he needs more confirmation that you will remain his forever and never leave him for another. He hacks into your devices, reading your messages, tracking your browsing history, and even controlling your social media presence, all in an effort to isolate you further.

psychotic!chan has full control: You're feeling trapped and hopeless, but Chan promises he knows what's best for you. Sure, your boundaries of consent are obliterated, and you feel more like a possession than a human, but no one knows you better—loves and desires you more—than Chan does. He is everywhere now, inescapable, and your life is now his.

"Crazy? You think I'm crazy, y/n? Don't be such a cunt. I'm just in love with you! You're all I want, y/n. Why do you think I'm doing all of this? Come here, baby—Shh, don't fight me. I just need to fuck some sense into you because you're saying things you don't mean. You and I are destined to be together forever, y/n. Maybe if I fuck a baby into you, you'll understand better."

#bang chan #skz bang chan #bang chan x reader #skz bang chan x reader #bang chan imagines #bang chan headcanons #skz x reader #skz headcanons #skz imagines #yandere skz #yandere bang chan #yandere!skz x reader #dead dove do not eat #request #sadseungmin

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raging-bisexual76 · 1 month

Note

i’m begging you to speak more abt bachira & isagi w a loser!reader

!! Nonnie I'm so glad you asked fr it's gonna be kinda long just tell me to stfu if u need

also they're a lot meaner with reader than their yan counterparts

TW/CW; dubcon/noncon (to be safe), bullying, mention of spitting (sexual style fingerguns), gentle mention of impact play, hard mention of non-consensual picture sharing and can be implied that the pictures were taken without consent

So it's like a college au kinda but also like not? And I'm gonna do it fem reader coded I'm sorry I was trying to stay gn but then my brain was like mmm no

Now obviously the boys are still on the soccer team still and are more than likely popular because they've gotten the team to it's current standing.

Then we have our sweet lil loser reader :) who could do no wrong except standing up against the bullies. She's probably in an unpopular group/club but I'm not entirely sure what one

But reader's all red in the face and jabbing their finger into the boys chest, asking when will it be enough for them and that they're sick of seeing and hearing it. That they should be ashamed, thinking they're big shots when they do stuff like this. And while she's popping off, the boys are just like "holy shit who the fuck does she think she is??"

So as I said, they start moving their bullying efforts to the reader after that. It starts small with them stealing her stuff, tugging her hair, turning her friends against her and spreading rumors, etc.

But the first time they trip her?? And get a lil glimpse of her panties??? Fuuck. Especially as she sits up with tears in her eyes, giving them the nastiest look she can muster as she tells them to fuck off and just leave her alone.

After that though, it gets worse for our dear reader. Instead of just tugging little stands, they grab fist fulls of her hair and pull, just to hear what noises she makes. They'll dump water out a window, or push her into the fountain just to see what's underneath her shirt and flip up her skirt to see her panties. The boys will go out of their way to kick a soccer ball so it hits her, just to see her cry. Pinching her and leaving little bruises on her sides and thighs, groping at her through her clothes as they press themselves against her. They'll start pulling her off to secluded places by her hair or arm to make her give them a blowjob, or get a quick fuck in.

I can see any pictures they have of her in compromising positions probably being shared with the rest of the soccer team. She can't prove it, but the stares from the team say more than enough.

One of the teams favorites is where the reader is on their knees, looking up at the camera with tears and cum running down her face, both Yoichi and Meguru's dicks pressing against her face. Another is a video of reader laying on her back, covering her face with her forearm in embarrassment. She's barely clothed, boobs almost spilling out of her bra with each of Bachira's thrusts. Isagi has her right hand in his as he wraps them around his cock, and with his other he pulls her tits out to abuse her nipples (pinchin, spittin, biting, slappin n suckin my god he'd do everything). And after she thinks they're done, she goes to sit up to gather her things only to be flipped over and pushed back down. Yoichi has the camera now as he steps behind her, running his tip up and down her leaking entrance. Bachira just clicks his tongue with a pout, "You didn't think we were done yet, right, [name]-chan? Yoichi-kun hasn't gotten his turn yet, and I'm still a little dirty. So, clean it." He slides in front of her, lifting her head up by the hair as he presses himself against her mouth.

(m tryin to not think abt if they ((the team)) have seen reader and the boys go at it in the locker room and the showers (((they have))) )

Idk this isn't all the ideas and I'm all over the place with this,, but it's in the making yk? I feel like yan them doesn't want any harm to come to darling, but bully them? They want to see you bruised, broken and hurting, they want to see the look hatred in your eyes and for you to be uncomfortable around them

#◇× birds bllk ×◇#so i don't take up the bllk tag w/ my ick #tw dubcon #cw dubcon #cw noncon #tw noncon #tw bullying #cw bullying

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wordsbymae · 2 years

Text

MINORS DNI

Title: The Outlaw King

Pairing: Male OC x female!reader

Summary: Reader is the daughter of a struggling noble who in an attempt to save the prospects of his family begins marrying off his daughters, he is successful for the most part, until his youngest remains. Viewed as lesser compared to her sisters in her appearance, the reader is left without any suitors. Until her father is forced to marry her off to an outlaw.

TW: Female reader, insecure thoughts, chubby!reader, midsized!reader, she's got boobs, reader herself doesn't act insecure but she would be described as insecure yes. Older sisters say cruel things without thinking of consequences, discussion of weight gain and loss, reader is seen to be not as attractive as her sisters, starving oneself is brought up, and the outlaw is a bit vulgar (he likes something to grab) and is accidentally cruel (he doesn't mean to be, he's just an idiot and a man). Reader is insulted by her sister.

NSFW: swear words, vulgar descriptions of sex, he's just horny for reader, I didn't try smut cause I suck at it, but I might try it in a separate fic, the word whore is used (sex workers deserve respect, I'm using it as a historical term), groping, smacking ass, discussions of non/con (it does not happen), implied consensual sex or as consensual l as arranged married sex with an outlaw can go.

If I have forgotten anything let me know!

Notes: Not gonna lie this is very much a vent fic. So it might seem a bit too specific for a reader's fic. There will be some triggering topics brought up so if any of the above is not your cup of tea please move along. Also please please please use your own discretion for this one, I would hate for my writing to reinforce insecurities in anyone or bring up bad thoughts about themselves. So once again please please please use discretion. No one is forcing you to read this.

Reader discretion is advised! Also, I hope I don't need to say this but I will just in case, I do not condone these sorts of actions!!! Or any actions in any of my work. This is pure fiction. Also, all my OCs and the reader are over the age of 18+.

Lots of love Mae xx

Alphabet

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"Are you sure you want to wear that dress?" your sister questioned, her mouth forming a tight grimace. Her ringed hands made their way to her tidy hips. Her dress was one of emerald green, its linen fabric delicately wrapped around her waist and cascaded down to the floor in waves. It was a beautiful dress and she looked like an angel in it. It had been your mother's. She had given it to you before she passed away, it hadn't fit you though, despite your late-night struggles to tame the fabric around your hips and breasts. You still remember trying to silence your tears as you nearly ripped the black silk ribbon designed to close the dress at the back. Your chest had been too big and the fabric too tight. So you had given up and gifted it to your sister. If the lands hadn't betrayed you maybe you could have asked a maid to take out some of the seems, but the famine meant you had no extra coins for silly things like thread.

"I thought it looked nice" you answered, voice soft and head bowed. Your hands had come up to your belly and they were currently pulling and twisting your fingers. Your dress was one of dull blue. It was a favourite of yours as it did not pinch your skin or constrict your breathing, nor did it leave marks around your arms where the seems dug into your soft flesh.

"It is dull and plain" your sister scoffed "how are you expected to catch the eye of a suitor if you look like that". she pushed past you towards your closet, ripping open the doors to find a more appropriate dress.

Her words left poison in your gut and tore at your heart. You had spent all morning twisting and curling your hair, putting dainty flowers in the braids. You had redone your rouge and kohl three times, to the point where tears of frustration nearly ruined everything anyway. You had thought you looked decent, maybe even pretty. But as soon as your older sister walked through the door, looking like Venus herself, you thought the flowers in your hair made you look childish and the kohl made you look tarty.

"It is important that we all look our best today. Papa invited nearly all the lords and their sons in the kingdom. Without our bride price, our people will suffer" she mindlessly rambled as she threw dress after dress from their home onto your bed. She had no need to remind you about the reasoning behind today's festivities. Your father's lands were the largest agricultural producer in the kingdom, but sickness had plagued the soil leaving the crop rotten. Without a harvest, your father was forced to buy crops from the other lords, but his coin was running low. In order to save his people from starvation until the famine resided, he was forced to marry you and your sisters off for your bride prices. Your father had cried bitter tears at the thought. He had no sons and you and your sisters were his everything. The only solace he had was his oldest daughter and her future betrothed would be the next lord and lady of the castle, allowing him at least one daughter to remain. You on the other hand, as the youngest, feared you may never see your father or sisters again once married. It was seldom a husband allowed his wife to travel away from her place by their side.

"Ah! This one, try this one!" your sister cheered, pushing a lilac dress into your arms. You recognised it immediately.

"Oh no, not this one" you stammered, already trying to push it back into her arms.

"What? Why not? Just put it on, the suitors shall be arriving soon" she snapped, her eyes looking at you with annoyance.

"I cannot" you stressed, begging her with your gaze.

"This is ridiculous. Put the dress on and be done with it." she insisted pushing you towards the changing stand

"It does not fit" you whispered, hoping she would leave and forget it all. She continued to push you.

"It does not fit!" you shouted, removing yourself from her grip. You turned towards her and watched as her eyes softened.

"It does not fit? Well, then I will tighten it more. Silly girl it is a simple fix" she comforted, her hands now gentle as she once more pushed you to the changing stand. Tears began to swell in your eyes as you allowed her to move you.

"It is too tight on me" you whimpered, your voice almost a whisper. Her hands, which had been softly undoing the laces of your dress suddenly stopped. You could feel the air shift.

"it is too tight?" She coldly asked, her hands gripping the laces. "Papa only gifted it to you last month! It fitted then! What have you done hm? Gouged yourself on the lager while others starve?" she hissed, her hands ripped away from you as she grabbed the dress in your hands. "Papa used coin that could have been better used elsewhere for you! For a silly dress that is as good as rags!" she roared, hands ripping and tearing at the fabric. You were sobbing now, watching as the pretty purple fabric was left tatted on the ground. When she was done, she looked at you with steely eyes. For a moment you thought she might hit you.

"Fine, stay in that tatty rag. Do not come crying to me when the men look past you" she sneered, leaving your room in a huff, slamming the door behind her. You fell to your knees as tears dragged black kohl down your cheeks. It felt like hours, but it had really been only a short few minutes before your father opened your door calling your name with cheer.

"Where are you my dear! My scouts have caught sight of the first Lord!"

His merriment was soon killed when he saw you on the ground.

"Oh, my love! Are you alright? What happened? No more tears now, that's a girl. Dry those eyes." he comforted, holding you in his arms as vengeful tears raced down your cheek. After a few moments, you choked out what had happened. A part of you thought that maybe he would punish your sister, reprimand her or, as a cruel part of you wished, banish her from the festivities. But your father loved you and your sisters equally, sometimes a little too much.

"I am sure she did not mean to. She is just worried because of the trouble that faces us. That is all." he explained patting you on the back.

"Come fix your eyes and I shall redo your laces and then let us meet the Lords, yes?" he cheered, helping you up to your feet.

After harshly scrubbing your face clean of the kohl and rouge and quickly putting some more on (only rouge this time, the kohl made you nervous), your father lead you down the corridors of the castle. You knew he was speaking to you about your sister, how he would ask her to apologise to you and that maybe your oldest sister (your favourite, she was rarely cruel) would gift you an old dress of hers (you knew it wouldn't fit either), but you drowned him out with dreams of what might come. Before this afternoon you had imagined that a nobleman would fall in love with you at first sight. That he would beg at your father's feet for your hand in marriage, that he would gift you flowers and jewels and you would discuss politics and arts. Now you imagined one of the noblemen scorning your sister, declaring her undesirable and a wretch, before he declaring his love for you and carrying you away while you laughed at your sister's misery. It was a cruel thought, yes, but it warmed you. You wished you could say you hated your sisters, but you still loved them, which is why it hurt so much when they made comments on your looks. Friening pity and worry, leaving giggles and snide looks your way. They were like sweet poison. You couldn't wait till distance made the heart fonder.

You and your father finally made it to the steps of the castle joining all four of your sisters. Your eldest sister gives you a smile, another a glance, and the other two, including the sister you wished would tumble down the stairs and fall flat in the mud, give each other a glance and then a giggle. Your father left you standing next to them as he made his way to your oldest sister, just in time for a bugle call and the thundering sound of horses racing through the castle square.

They have arrived.

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You wished they never came.

You had hoped for love at first sight. That you would catch a glimpse of a dashing man and you two would fall head over heels in love. That you would dance the night away in his arms and be announced his betrothed by morn. Then you wished that you would strike up a conversation with a lord, and you would discuss history and medicine and by the end of the night, you would be walking through the gardens with your arms intertwined. Then you just prayed one of them would talk to you. They favoured your sisters heavily, ignoring you in conversation to laugh at a quip your sister made or would speak over the top of you altogether. By the end of the night, you had drifted to the sides. Watching as your sisters danced in the arms of charming men you knew would be their husbands. Even your oldest sister had abandoned you. You had gone to her in the hopes she would comfort you, and she did. Until the middle son of a Southern Lord asked her for a dance, and then she was gone. She did promise to come back, but you watched as the two of them huddled together in the shadows. You were feeling miserable and jealous yes, but not enough to steal your darling sister away from a chance of happiness.

So instead you just hid in the shadows, counting the minutes until you could hide away in your room. It wasn't the first time something like this has happened. You had become used to being seen as the lesser sister during events and ceremonies. It wasn't like you were dull. In fact, you were intelligent, charming and funny, but when you were placed with your sisters it was like all that seeped away from you and you struggled to reach their level of grace and poise. Tonight hurt the most, however, because the survival of your people depended on you catching the eye of a suitor. Without all four bride prices, your father would not have enough coin to buy next season's shipment of food. Your people would starve otherwise. For the first time in your life, you actually started to believe the cruel comments your sisters would make. Maybe you really were undesirable? Maybe everything would be easier if you had your mother's face and not the rounded one of your father. You were failing your father and it was because of something so inherently you. There was nothing you could do to change it, it is who you are, and here a room full of men deemed it unworthy.

You had decided you were done. Nothing more to do but leave and hideaway in your room. You left quickly, struggling to hide the tears swelling in your eyes. Your father would come looking for you, maybe, but it was nothing an excuse of lightheadedness couldn't control. Once arriving in your room, you were quick to scrub the rouge from your cheeks and rip the flowers from your hair. With a screech, you threw them to the ground. You had spent a whole morning picking them. You were foolish to think they could elevate a face like yours. You then tore yourself from your dress and drove under the covers. Like every night since she passed, you wished your mother was here. Even though you knew she would just call your worries silly and ridiculous, or worse offer to help you fast. It often seemed like you were like a goose in a family of swans. While not harsh to the gaze, you were nothing in comparison to the other women in your family.

Crying yourself to sleep, you whispered over and over again that it wasn't fair.

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You watched as your sister waved at you from the window of the carriage before darting back inside. Your father beside you was cheering, with tears running down his rosy cheeks. Your oldest sister was linked in arms with her husband, both smiling and waving at the carriage as it disappeared from sight. Since the ball a week prior, all your sisters had been married. All their suitors declared their intent the morning after the festivities. A part of you had been hopeful, foolishly so, that maybe you had caught a suitor's eye. That they had just been too shy to approach you but had wanted you for their wife. You were terribly disappointed when no man stepped forward when your father called your name. It was humiliating too, watching as some men even took steps back. It broke the last bit of hope left in you. You had been terribly jealous, watching your sisters fawn over wedding dresses. You had just stood to the side, lightly touching scraps of silk that had been discarded on the floor. You had watched in envy during each separate wedding wishing that could be you, that someone wanted you enough to announce their loyalty to you. It made you sick to the stomach with the amount of guilt you felt feeling that way.

If you had been disappointed and miserable from the whole affair, your father was devastated. He was so close to saving his people, and yet he had failed. You remained by his side. He was torn between his love for you and relief that his youngest would not leave his side so soon but also shattered at the prospect of his people suffering. His once loving and kind attitude towards you suddenly became cold, and he often refused to look you in the eyes. He loved you, yes, but sometimes you think he blamed you. For what you weren't sure. Maybe for not at least trying on that lilac dress, or maybe not being as charming as your sisters were. A cruel and wicked part of you thought that maybe he blamed himself, for siring a creature like you.

He had since tried to discuss marriage with less favourable suitors. But the poorer lords could not afford the bride price he need and the older (much older) lords made you cry at his feet begging him to reconsider. He succumbed to your pleas. But at a price. He warned that if you continued to refuse his choice of suitors then by the last day of the month he would marry you to the next willing and able man who asked for your hand. And so your father declared to the whole kingdom your hand in marriage. That any man (noble or not) who could afford your bride price could come to his lands to ask for your hand. You had a condition of your own. They could not see you until the bride price was paid and you were lifting the veil in the church. You did not want to be humiliated any longer by shallow men. You were allowed to see them though, with you hiding behind your father's counsel room walls, peering through a hole created for your eyes.

So for the next week men viring for your hand arrived. You refused every single one. They were far too old, or far too young. They had had five wives previous and all had met a grisly fate by 'accidental drowning'. They kept asking your father what you looked like and made jokes about not wanting to be tricked into a marriage with a beast. Some seemed respectful and charming until they laughed at a poor serving girl tripping over their foot while your father was away from the room. One kept picking at his teeth, another had attrocious manners and sneezed all over your father. You refused all.

It was finally the last day of the month and your oldest sister was fusing over you. This whole affair made her fret, she had begged you to at least reconsider sending the last suitor away (the one who sneezed), but you were adamant, if not a little frightened. Maybe you should have lowered your standards. Maybe you should have given the sneezer a chance. At least before you had a choice, but now? Now it was whoever walked through the castle gates. You weren't hiding behind the wall today. It wasn't your choice. Instead, you and your sister took tea in the garden as you nervously wondered who your husband would be. Before everything had started, you had prayed for a charming, dashing, handsome man. But now you could only hope he was kind.

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Your husband-to-be was an outlaw. A rogue. A criminal and thief. Most definitely a murderer and only the Lord knew what else. To even think your father allowed this match brought tears to your eyes. But he had sworn that on the last day of the month, he would accept the first man to ask for your hand. You were sure he never thought it would be the infamous Outlaw King (why wasn't he just arrested or killed on sight? movie magic baby). He disgusted you, your betrothed, you had only seen him from afar, still refusing to let him see you until the wedding. But your sister had told you all. About how he waltzed into the castle and pushed past your father's guards to declare his intentions for your hand. He hadn't even asked! He had thrown the required price on your father's table and had only laughed at the sight of your father's wide eyes.

Your father could only nod his head and approve your betrothal. You remember your father meeting you in the gardens to tell you of your betrothed. Your sister had exploded into fury, while you had just sat still in shock. You had heard tales of him of course, an immoral and cunning man, leading a band of outlaws deep in the woods. He was said to be the bastard son of the King's brother. Left to fend for himself as a babe in the woods. That he was raised by a she-wolf and inherited her blood lust. He was handy with a knife and brutal with a sword. That every whore in the kingdom longed for his presence, for the gold and pleasure he provided. It was said he killed a man for just jesting he was as good with a sword as he was. He was a vile man and yet you were to be his wife. You had cried in your bed at the thought of him, of his vile hands touching you. Your sister had tried to console you but it was your duty to your people to marry him.

The day of the wedding left you frightened. You were worried about many things. What would become of you after your wedding? Of where you would live. Would you be expected to steal and rob like he does? Would you be classed as an outlaw too? all these thoughts helped distract you from the most worrying of all. What if he didn't like you? What if even a scoundrel like him didn't want you. Then you really would be a failure of a woman.

You don't remember much before the wedding, just your sister whispering in your ear about how to make it less painful, you hadn't been listening so you don't know what she was referring to. You remember your hands feeling the silk of your wedding dress as your sister laced the ribbon in front of the mirror. For a brief second, you thought you looked pretty. You also remember your father's grip on your arm as he walked you down the aisle before hesitantly passing you to the tall and stocky man in front of you. Tales of the Outlaw King will have you believe he was a lean figure with fair hair and blue eyes. A resemblance of the Prince he was supposed to be sired from. Instead, he was broad with deep brown eyes and dark scruffy hair. He had a wide cheerful grin and he looked far too excited for this sombre affair. He was so excited he didn't even wait for the priest to tell him to lift the veil, he just yanked it up and let out a low whistle at the sight of you.

"You sure are pretty huh" he grinned. A blush made its way up your cheeks and over your ears. It was the first time anyone had ever called you that. You could only stare at him before mumbling a thank you, you were raised to be polite after all, and then you turned towards the priest with palms sweaty. He spent the whole ceremony stealing glances at you and urging the priest to hurry up. Asking if all the formalities were necessary. The congregation was split between some being disgraced at his antics and others amused by his merriment, either in awe at his presence or his own men, shouting and hollering encouragement. However, when he pulled a knife on the priest when he tried to ask if anyone wanted to object, the guests all gave out a cry of hysteria, with only his men howling in joy. It was frightening to see the priest pushed up against the altar, your future husband's dagger at his throat. You gave a yelp at the sight and backed away slightly. You were reminded that he was not a nice man.

"You can skip that part father. Unless anyone has anything to say?" he joked cruelly, turning to the church with his arms open wide, dagger shining in the light of the sun beams through the windows. Your father looked like he was about to faint and your sister was being held back by her husband.

"No? Wonderful. Can we get this show on the road then father? I'm itching to be balls deep in my pretty lady by nightfall" he beamed putting his knife away. You yourself felt like you were about to faint. A heat rising from your stomach. You did not know if from disgust, fear or heaven forbid want. A cruel part of you whispered that maybe it was all a joke, a wicked ploy to have you believe he fancied you. But the look he gave you when he turned to smile at you, had those thoughts racing away. You could hear your sister hissing out curses, while your father groaned in defeat.

The priest, skipping a few steps, then declared you man and wife. You felt your husband's large hands grip your hips before dragging you to him, your chest bumping into his. He quickly brought you into a harsh kiss, his tongue prodding at your opening, you could only stand there still, your hands pressed tightly up against him. His hands made their way down to your arse before he gripped it tightly, a moan of satisfaction coming from your husband and a gasp from you. He took the opportunity to thrust his tongue inside. You could hear the cheers from his men and the polite, almost disgusted clapping of your guest. He tore himself away from you to turn to the congregation, giving out a howl of joy and throwing his hands to the heavens. His men went wild. Some began jumping up and down on the pews, while others began to slap the wooden material creating a deafening sound of thunder. One even had two swords in his hand, waving them around his head in joy. You had started to turn yourself to look at your father and sister but were stopped when your husband gripped your thighs to throw you over his shoulder with a yelp. He walked towards your family, you were in shock at it all and could only react with a squeal as he playfully smacked your bottom a few times. Stopping in front of your father and sister, you lifted yourself slightly up to meet their gaze.

"Don't you worry sir, I'll take real good care of her. Hell, next time we meet, there might be some ankle bitters running around" he laughed, giving a particularly hard slap to your arse. You gave a yelp and your father fell to his chair with a groan. Your sister was spitting curses, her husband desperately trying to hold her back from hitting your husband. Your husband only laughed with cruel mockery as he left your family, walking down the aisle into the fresh air of the world beyond.

You were plopped on the ground outside as dozens of wild cheering men pooled around you. Shouts of congratulations and well-dones were lifted into the air. Your husband was clapped on the back and brought into tight hugs. Every one of them had big smiles gracing their faces. Slowly they drifted away. You looked over their shoulders trying to find where the carriage was. Instead, a man leads a large bay stallion over to your husband. Your husband thanked him before turning to you.

“Up you go princess” he grunted, grabbing your waist and hauling you up on the saddle. You tried to get comfortable, but your dress pooled around you, making it hard for you to sit right or even see the stallion’s head. You turned to ask your husband if there was a carriage to take, but you were stopped by the sight of his hands tearing at your dress. You gave a shout of fear and using one leg you tried to kick him away. Instead, just grabbed it with one hand and ripped it with another. Scraps of silk lay forgotten on the muddy ground. His hand on your ankle was rough and warm, and it left tingles behind. After doing the other side as well, with you once again trying to kick in his teeth, your lower legs were bare. The removal of the excess fabric made it much easier for you to sit and you gave him a begrudging thank you. He just smiled at you and gripped your ankle tighter before running his hand up your skin, to your knee and diving it under the remainder of the dress before resting it on the meat of your thigh. He pawed at your soft flesh before giving you a smile.

“That’s alright princess” he cooed, before lifting himself up behind you. You tried to give him some more room, moving forward slightly. However, you were pulled back by his arm around your waist, leaving your arse pressed tight against his groin. You tried to move forward again but was once more pulled back.

“Come on sweet cheeks, don’t you wanna make your husband happy?” he sang, and you gave him a small hesitant nod. “Then sit that arse right here and let a man enjoy his wife’s company.” He teased, his mouth finding its way to your ear. He encouraged the horse forward, and he gave a groan as you were jolted back and your arse ground against him.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Just like that” he cooed. You could only blush and tense up, trying desperately to ignore his hardening member digging into you.

You turned your head to look for your family, finding them standing on the church steps. You gave a small wave and a little smile. Your eyes began to swell with tears as you watched your father fall to the ground in grief. His youngest taken by an outlaw. You turned around quickly not wanting to watch your father’s misery.

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"I saw you" he remarked, leading his horse into the forest.

You had been riding all day and you had yet to have a proper conversation with him. Instead, he would shout vulgar remarks to his men, telling them how desperate he was to sink into your warm cunt, or he would joke to them how the only reason he hadn’t torn the rest of your dress off and taken you roughly on the ground was that he didn’t want the sight of your soft, sweet flesh available to the dirty bastards. After each conversation and jest, he would give a laugh and then squeeze a portion of you. His favourite place to grab was your thigh. You would often be startled by his hand finding its way under your skirts, where it would run up and down before squeezing and finally leaving. The conversations and his touch left you breathless and terrified. You were sure this man would force himself on you and the idea of it left you shaking. After a vile comment made by him about how he would soon teach his pretty princess how to suck cock like a whore, which made you give out a sob of fear, he suddenly refused to joke with his men about you further. Even ordering one man to get off his horse and walk when he made a particular vulgar comment on how your breasts would look, bouncing on your husband’s cock. Since then, the group only spoke of other things, like robbing and killing. Your husband remained silent throughout. So, it shocked you when he remarked that he had seen you, his voice was much softer than you had previously known.

"Pardon?" you queried, slightly turning your head to him.

"The night of that big party you had. Me and the boys came to rob everyone blind, but then out popped you. You were wearing that bluey-looking dress, looking all pretty and shit. I liked the flowers in your hair, made you look real sweet. I guess you could say it was love at first sight. Couldn't rob everyone when I was thinking about you" he said, hand resting on his own hip and the other leading the horse over tree roots and rocks. You listened intently, thinking back to that night. Surely you would have seen an outlaw. You blushed at his words; a small smile fought its way to your lips. Until it was ripped down with his continuing story.

"You ran off before I could nab ya, tried again a few more times during the week of all your sisters getting hitched. Kept just missing ya though. You were running this way and that, and sometimes you wouldn’t even leave the castle! I may be a fool in love but I’m not foolish to think I would be able to get past your guards and steal you away.” He chuckled as if he was relaying a funny little tale down at the pub. “But then your old man declared your hand free game! all it took was a little hard work robbing some rich fucks and next thing I knew we're getting hitched. My ma would be proud, I got you the honest way! who would have thought huh?" he beamed, giving you a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

"you stole the money. And you still tried to kidnap me" you said in shock. Your eyes widened in disgust.

"so?" he questioned, he really saw no problem with his whole plan. Suddenly you turned a corner and in front of you was the Outlaw’s lair. It was remarkably put together. Houses and huts hidden under the canopy of the trees, some even in the branches of the tall trees, and bridges traveling throughout creating a roadway of planks and rope. It was amazing.

“Welcome home princess” he cheered, it did nothing to kill the fear inside of you.

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You listened to the continuing festivities outside the wooden walls. Your husband (whose name you still didn’t know) told you that his men would party into the wee hours of dawn. But your husband had other things on his mind than drinking, he had snatched you from the horse and carried you into his bed chambers, throwing you onto the bed. You had given a shriek of surprise and quickly sat up moving to the edge of the bed, just in time as he fell to the space where you once were. He gave a groan of frustration and lifted himself up to his elbows.

“Come here wife, I have dreamed of that sweet cunt since I first saw you. Let me finally have a taste for all my good work” he grunted before reaching for you. You jumped to your feet.

“I don’t even know your name!” you blurted out, thinking quickly about how to tame this man’s lust without touching him.

“Its Bingus” he remarked, face bored.

“Excuse me?” you asked, you weren’t one to judge but that name did not suit the man in front of you.

“Of course it isn't! It isn't exactly a name that inspires fear and respect” he chuckled as he also stood from the bed. You stood tense, standing close to the wall. He gave a sigh before answering your initial question.

“It's Alwyn,” he said as he slowly stepped towards you. He reached out with his hands, and you flinched slightly. He moved his hands up and down your arms, giving you slight comfort. “ Now that you know, I expect you to scream it loud enough to drown out those fuckers outside”

He grabbed your waist and lifted you up, placing you on the bed with him firmly on top. His body was in between your legs, and you tried desperately to push him off.

“Oh, you wound me sweet cheeks! All I want to do is show you my love!” he teased “and how can I not, with you laying in my bed looking like the prettiest whore there ever was"

You gave a cry of anger as your hand raced for his face. He easily grabbed your wrist and pushed your hand flat onto the bed next to your head.

"It's a compliment sweet cheeks! I mean it in a 'fucking hell my wife is so fucking hot, I'm about to blow my load just at the sight of her pretty tits' way." He consoled. “And what pretty tits they are. I mean look at them. I just want to bury my face in em” he groaned before doing exactly that. You felt his lips mouth at the skin of your cleavage, the rest hidden by your dress. The pleasure left you flustered, and you gave out a moan. He started to grind his pelvis against your clothed warmth. You could feel his hardening cock straining against his pants. But all the feelings, of pleasure, confusion, nervousness and insecurities overwhelmed you.

“Did you mean it?” you whimpered, grabbing his hair with your non-trapped hand, and pulling his face up.

“Mean what princess?” he cooed. Eyes and smile dopey with lust.

“Do you really think I’m pretty?”, you whispered, tears making their way to your eyes. He released your hand to gently hold your face.

“The prettiest thing I’ve ever seen in all my days” he soothed going in for a kiss.

“You aren’t just saying that right? Right?” you sniffed, turning your head for his kiss to fall flat on your cheek, he lifted his head with a groan. You needed to know. Needed to make sure he wasn’t just lying to you to get you to willingly give up your honour.

“Now why would you say something like that huh?” he probed. You looked at him with teary eyes. Begging for him to leave it and forget it.

“Well? What got my pretty lady worried?” he implored.

“I just don’t believe you” you sniffled, a rogue tear traveling down your cheek before his thumb swiped it away.

“Don’t believe me? Sweetheart I would be a fool to not think you are the prettiest, most gorgeous being I’ve ever seen” he laughed, once more going for a kiss. Once more you turned your head, this time his mouth finding its way on the pillow, he gave a grunt of frustration.

“How can you think I’m beautiful when I look like me?” you whimpered, tears following quickly. His head snapped up quickly. His eyes darkened. His gaze was harsh, but his fingers on your face were soft. His thumb gently wiped away the offensive tears.

“Who told you otherwise?” he snarled, his face twisting into anger. But when your face turned to one of fear, his eyes softened, and his face became gentle.

“Who was it, sweetheart? You tell me and I’ll burn their fucking house down” his voice soft and soothing, his thumbs moving their way to your lips, tracing their outline. You hesitated. It wasn’t like anyone at had ever out rightly told you, you were ugly or unattractive. But it was what they hadn’t said. In the way your mother would call your sisters beautiful and gorgeous, then turn to you and say you liked nice, just nice. How only your sisters were ever praised for their tidy figures and easy-to-manage breasts by the dressmaker, while she only ever tsked and sighed measuring your hips and bust. It was in the way you had always felt left out, never feeling like an equal, sometimes not even feeling like a sister. Instead of telling him all that you just gave him a shake of the head and a sniffle. After a few moments of silence, he relented, maybe later he would ask and then he would get to burn something. But right now, he needed to change tactics.

“You know…I’ve always had a thing for girls like you” he encouraged, leaving sweet kisses on your rounded cheeks and jaw, before looking down at you once more. You looked at him with inquisitive eyes.

“You’re so, so soft, and there’s so much to grab and fuck me but your thighs? Heaven. And these tits? the way they bounce when you walk? Fuck, it's enough for a man to blow a load at the very sight. And the way your arse jiggles? I just want to bend you over and fuck the daylight out of you” he moaned, kissing up and down your neck. You became flustered, the only thing you could do was listen and hold onto his shoulders as he continued his assault on your body. It was going so well too, you had started to think he really did see you as desirable, as someone worth loving. Until he opened his big stupid mouth again.

“So what you’re not as thin as your sisters or some other women? I like my women well fed and fuck sweetheart look at you! You’re as well fed as a heifer in spring!” he cheered, his eyes bright with joy and his mouth smiling wide. You on the other hand were frowning. Giving a cry of anger you pushed him off you and jumped from the bed. Angry tears began rolling down your cheeks as you looked for something to bash him with. Ah, a broom! Grabbing it you turned to swing it at him, Alwyn shouting in confusion and shock, only narrowing missing a stick to the face by leaping from the bed. You tried to swing at him again, but he grabbed the broom and pulled it forward, you along with it. He held you in his arms as you raged against him, sobs crying out.

“Hey! Hey! Come on princess, what now!” he exclaimed trying to soften the blows to his chest from your hands.

“It’s not fair!” you wailed, “It’s not fair!” Finally tired from all the excitement you slowed your assault, leaving you to sob into his chest, hands covering your face. You could feel his hands awkwardly rub your back. You hated him.

“What’s not fair?” he whispered.

“It’s not fair they look the way they do, and I’m left looking like this” you choked, “it's not fair they are called as fair as a swan in flight or, or as pretty as a sunflower in summer or as beautiful as Venus herself. And I’m left to be compared to a heifer! A heifer!” you broke down into more bitter tears by the end of your rant. Your tears left damp splotches on his shirt. He deserved it.

“ A very pretty heifer” he encouraged, making you growl in anger and restart your war against his chest.

“Ok! Ok! You don’t want to be called a heifer! I get it!” he exclaimed grabbing your wrists together to stop you.

“But you are as pretty as a sunflower, or as beautiful as a goose” he soothed, hands resting on your hips and fingers rubbing small circles.

“Swan” you sniffed.

“Right. As beautiful as a swan” he took a pause, “I thought they were the same thing? Aren’t swans just baby geese?” he questioned, head tilting slightly to the right.

“No!” you giggled; tears forgotten as you smiled watching as his own grin made its way to his face.

“Right, okay, so swans are swans and geese are geese?” he asked, a large smile gracing his lips. You giggled as you nodded your head.

“Okay, I get it now.” He nodded. “I don’t like swans. They are too pretentious, with really fucking long necks and stupid-looking faces. I like geese better” he remarked.

“I thought you didn’t know what a swan was?” you smirked, tears now drying on your cheek.

“I didn’t, I thought swans shrunk as they got older to be geese” he replied, face one of pure glee. This left you laughing deeply, your head falling back and a massive smile on your face.

“There’s my pretty girl” Alwyn cooed, watching you with pure love in his eyes. “I don’t know who ever made you feel this way about yourself, but they were fucking idiots. I mean look at yourself. As beautiful and as radiant as the first morning rays over a snow-covered mountain” he soothed, leaving a light kiss on your lips. Tears welled in your eyes but this time of joy.

“You’re pretty good-looking yourself. One might say handsome” you shyly smiled. He gave a chuckle before answering.

“Oh I know I am sweetheart.” He teased. You brought your lips to his and brought his hands to your arse, allowing him to squeeze. A moan came from both of you. But you still at one more question. Slowly removing your lips and giggling as he pouted you stared at him for a moment.

“Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“When you said you fell in love with me?” you whispered, terrified you would break the spell between you two. Your fears dissipated as a dashing smile graced his charming face.

“I’m not a praying man, but I swear to any god that lives in heaven that it was the truth” he marvelled, hands resting once more on your hips, fingers falling into a familiar routine of small circles.

“I think I like you too” you softly spoke.

“Good to know princess.” He smirked, hands now rubbing up and down your sides “So how about you spread those pretty thighs for me and I find heaven for us both?”

he really did get to be balls deep by nightfall

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Hey guys it's mae!

I just wanted to have a quick discussion about the above topics just cause I want to make myself clear. I completely and utterly understand that it is not healthy to expect your partner (if you can call what these two have a relationship) to 'fix' your insecurities, that is something only you can try and work on. And yeah I don't think anyone will ever be without insecurities and therefore it is natural for partners to help each other through that. But you have to make the first step, even if your partner is the one to encourage you. I wrote this because of personal reasons and as a way of venting (don't worry it's mainly the feeling of my situation rather than based on any particular events). I see this as a fantasy and thus it does not relate to expectations of reality, you guys should view it as such too. There is nothing wrong with fantasising about someone rushing in and 'rescuing' ( i put them in inverted commas because he legit kidnaps the reader) you but I think it's also important to view yourself as your own hero. If anyone is struggling with body image issues and insecurities feel free to dm me (just remind me to post it privately I forget) and we can have a chat. I am not a licenced professional or anything but I can send you in the right direction. I know what it's like being told your entire life you're not good enough looks-wise. Anyway! I just wanted to make that crystal clear cause I do see people idolising a partner with the sole purpose of fixing their insecurities without putting the work in themselves or even helping their partners with their own insecurities. Also, you don't need a partner to be happy! It can be achieved, but this one goes out to us lonely bitches who just want to slow dance with someone.

All the best,

Mae xx

#oc outlaw #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere drabble #oc #yandere prompts #dub con #female reader #vent fic #insecurity #insecure!reader #chubby!reader

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konigsblog · 5 months

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younger!stepmom!reader x perv!loser!stepson!könig plsplsplsplspls

tw/cw; stepcest, perv!loser!stepson!könig x stepmom!reader, smut, non-consensual touching, dub-con, groping, manipulation. MDNI 18+

note; könig is aged to be in his mid-twenties in this.

ever since you married könig's father, he hasn't been able to keep his filthy hands off of you. he's way too touchy-feely, brushing it off as him just building a relationship with his new stepmother, a perverted and deranged weirdo being your new stepson.

he stalks you constantly, steals your lingerie and uses it for his own enjoyment. könig wraps your lace panties around his lengthy shaft, his muscular body large and aching. he hasn't been in the military for long, only in his mid-twenties. he's never been in a relationship before, conventionally unattractive and unpleasant to be around, clinging to his stepmother for affection and pleasure.

könig is a loser, he's been deprived of the warmth and tightness of your gummy, velvety pussy around his meaty, girthy shaft, fantasising about fucking you while watching taboo, stepcest porn on his computer. könig spends the majority of his time on leave groping you, rubbing up against you and kissing you messily, forcing your face into his. you have to push him away at the realisation that he's trying to slide his big, hung cock into you, his thick fingers curling inside your tight hole like the creepy pervert he is, with his leaking dick bigger than his father's.

he'll compliment everything, from the clothes you wear, the perfume scent on your neck, to your cooking. he's a big boy, he'll eat anything and everything, asking for seconds and thirds just to appeal to his beloved stepmother.

due to his stepfather marrying later on in his life, he has extreme mommy issues. his craving for a relationship is intense, unable to differentiate his stepmother from a girlfriend.

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pineappleandcake · 2 years

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Thinking about shrine maiden reader and yandere cyno

Yandere Cyno x F! Shrine Maiden Reader

Note : Pretend that Cyno is the ruler of the desert of something and he's sitting on the throne and the reader is someone who works for him.

TW : DUBCON?, cockwarming, smut, non consensual touching, yandere behavior, unbalanced power dynamics?, and innocence kink??

Minors, ageless, and blank blogs dni. By expanding this post, you have read the warnings.

The General Mahamantra was a cruel ruler and he wasn't someone you wanted to mess with. If you had even done one thing such as say one bad word about him, then you would never be heard of ever again. You yourself knew that about him and you didn't even dare as to even look in his direction. However things in life don't always go your way do they?

So imagine the fear that pierced you when the General Mahamantra started trying to make a move on you.

It started off as making you wear a different uniform from the other shrine maidens. One that was more revealing with your cleavage poking out and a skirt that was way too short. If you were to so much as even bend down an inch someone else could see your ass.

You can also vaguely remember a time when he tried to tell you a joke and it was so bad that you had to fake a laugh just so you could keep your head in tact.

Another time you bent over to grab something and when you stood back up and looked behind yourself, you could've sworn you saw Cyno staring at your ass with a gaze full of lust.

Sometimes he would randomly grope you and you felt so uncomfortable about it but you didn't say anything because you didn't want to piss him off.

You wished that he would go back to when he didn't even so much as glance at you. You didn't want anything to do with him. He was cruel, scary, and only a dumbass would get themselves involved with a person like him.

Unfortunately for you, Cyno never shied away in taking things that should belong to him. The bad thing was is that you were next.

The General Mahamantra wasn't an idiot. He knew that you were visibly afraid of him and he was going to use it to his advantage no matter what. But things escalated to the next level when he got even bolder. And that was making you cockwarm him on his throne.

You were quite frankly embarassed.

You knew that everyone who walked into the throne room could see you looking like a whore with your revealing attire and the fact that Cyno's cock was stuffed in your cunt.

"Mmm you're taking me in so goodly" Cyno groaned into your ear.

You didn't even want to be on his lap. Hell you didn't even want to be breathing in the same air as him.

You were scared what would happen if you even so much as tried to get off his lap.

Cyno chuckled to himself as he saw how visibly uncomfortable and embarassed you were. "Hmm cmon take me in like the whore you are." Cyno groaned into your ear. "If you even so much as get up from my lap you will regret it." He threatened.

His threat made your blood run cold. However the only thing you could do was hide your face in his chest and pray that this would all be over soon.

The entire time you were on his lap Cyno would carry on with his duties. He talked to the visitors of his temple who would ask for things and he just rolled his eyes as he wrapped his arm around your body tighter.

The other shrine maidens in the same room as the both of you just minded their own business. They were too scared to even look at you in fear that they would get punished for looking at you.

After the day was over you thought that you could carry on with the rest of your life in peace. But you were so wrong.

You even tried to leave the temple but the guards immediately dragged you and chained you to Cyno's room.

You were told by the General Mahamantra that this would be your new home now and you just had to accept it. But things like this would never be easy especially since you were held here aginst your own will. Nobody could ever be happy if they didn't have their own freedom. Things like that just didn't work in life.

The only thing you could do now is hope that one day, you'll be able to break free from Cyno's clutches.

But as the days pass by, you can't help but wonder if freedom will ever come. The only thing you could do is pray now.

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depravitycentral · 1 year

Text

Yandere! Uvogin NSFW Profile

Yandere! Uvogin x fem! reader

Tw: mentions of non-con, masturbation, non-consensual aiding of masturbation (? not sure what to tag this but you'll see what I mean), excessive cum-play, snowballing, facials, stalking, kidnapping, mentions of degradation, exhibitionism, implied that Nobunaga jerked it to you I'm so sorry for your loss, kind of allusions to breeding but nothing explicit, fem reader, MDNI

WC: 10K

HABITS:

In general, Uvogin is no stranger to sex. He’s had his fair share of hookups over the years, and while he’s never really had a long term partner (being a criminal and always on the run makes it a bit difficult), he’s got a good, solid amount of experience under his belt.

And so, while he may be intimidating and a bit scary, there’s always plenty of drunk women at the local bars or clubs who are more than willing to take their chance at managing to take him.

And for the most part, Uvogin is completely satisfied with this – hookups and flings are fun, and he’s able to get his rocks off whenever he pleases.

However, once you step into his life, his frequent sex with strangers take an abrupt and very strict hiatus. Not only does it feel wrong to sleep with any woman besides you, he simply doesn’t find the allure anymore – if he were to sleep with anyone aside from you, he’d spend the entire time focused on all the things that are different from you rather than actually enjoying the experience.

Maybe their hair is different – yours is prettier, he thinks.

Maybe your voice is different – it’s not as annoying and shrill and whiny as the other woman’s, and Uvogin can very confidently say that he likes yours much, much more.

Maybe their body is different – your curves are different, better for him, and you’re softer and warmer and just better.

Hookups are out of the question once he really decides that he wants you – but unfortunately, the same can’t be said of his hormones. He still craves sexual contact and release, perhaps even more so now that he has you to actively imagine and think of and desire, but his tried and true method of finding someone random to relieve some pent up stress isn’t an option anymore.

And so, once his obsession develops, he finds himself masturbating much, much more often.

It’s not as nice as having a living, breathing person there to help him out, but it’s his only option – you’re not an option yet, as much as he desperately wishes you were, because while he’d give anything to sink into what he’s sure is your tight, warm, soaking wet cunt, he doesn’t want to reserve the progress he’s made in worming his way into your life all for one night of pleasure.

And so, he falls back on pleasuring himself with a bit of an aid – it’s not enough to simply fist himself and imagine your body or your sounds.

No, it’s not nearly enough – so instead, Uvogin finds a way to seamlessly involve you in his self-pleasure, all with the wonderful caveat of you having absolutely no idea of your role.

Uvogin’s already reaching for the hem of his shorts as he plops down onto the ratty couch in the living room of his current hideout. He’s quick to shimmey them down, all the way down to his ankles, only to unceremoniously kick them off to some corner of the room.

His cock is already semi-hard, the knowledge of what’s coming next unconsciously exciting him. He sighs and lets his head roll back slightly, resting on the frame of the couch, his hand sneaking down the plane of his abdomen and settling lightly over his cock.

Idly groping at his balls (just soft, teasing squeezes – nothing too serious yet, not when the action hasn’t begun), his free hand reaches to the next cushion and picks up the cheap burner phone Shalnark had provided him with last week. There’s only three numbers saved in it – Chrollo’s, Shalnark’s, and yours.

With a sharp swallow, Uvogin presses on your contact listing, listening as the familiar dial tone rings through the speakers. Your voice is surprised as you pick up, a delighted little oh, I wasn’t expecting a call from you!

It makes him bite his lip, squeezing at his balls just a bit harder.

Yeah, sorry, but I was bored and wanted to hear your voice. He smirks at the soft little sound of surprise you make at that.

Oh! Oh, sure, yeah! Okay, well, uh, how has your day been?

And although you’ve said absolutely nothing even remotely suggestive, Uvogin’s cock twitches against his forearm, making his thighs tense slightly.

Good, drank some beer and watched the hockey game, the usual. I want to hear about you, though. Tell me everything about this week, yeah?

And with that, he settles back further against the couch, truly getting comfortable as you start telling him about how this week you’ve done this and that, then this, then that…

He’s not really listening, and some part of him – the part not currently imagining the way you’d look with his cock down your throat – feels guilty about not giving you one hundred percent of his attention, but as you suddenly gasp and say oh then this happened he finds himself not caring.

Soon he’s transitioning from groping his balls to wrapping his fingers around his length, careful not to hiss into the phone receiver as he slowly, almost painfully slowly brings his fist up to his tip, squeezing a bit, then bringing it back down.

Your voice is a constant through the phone, the familiar lilt and pace of your words only slightly distorted through the device, and as he slowly works himself, he closes his eyes to listen more carefully. He likes the way you pronounce things – occasionally you say his name, and his hips jerk up a bit to fuck up into his fist each time you do, making him hold in a grunt each time.

Slowly he picks up the pace, moving his wrist a bit faster with every sentence you say, letting his eyes flutter closed again while his head lolls back slightly, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

He can practically imagine you here with him – the way you’d be straddling him on this couch, your soft thighs pressing against his hips, your pussy rubbing and grinding against him because you want to tease him, your hands splayed across his chest as you tell him that you want him, that you need him, that you need him to touch you and taste you and feel you and fuck you –

Uvogin? Uvogin? Are you okay? You sound like you’ve just run a marathon…

Your voice brings him back to reality, and immediately his eyes are snapping open and his hand freezes, his heavy breaths ringing through the receiver. After a beat, he swallows and reassures that he’s fine! Sorry sorry, that stupid neighbor of mine just stood outside my front door – you know how loud he breaths. Don’t worry about it, keep going. I like listening.

You seem a bit hesitant, but you keep going, and Uvogin makes sure to mute himself this time. Now he can listen to you talk and not worry about being too loud. Immediately he’s picking up where he left off, hips coming up to help fuck up into his fist, grunts and groans of your name slipping past his lips all the while you chatter on about last Wednesday.

Uvogin’s feet plant flat against the floor as he uses them for leverage to thrust up, pretending you’re perched in his lap with his cock buried between your legs, your pretty tits squished up against his chest while you gasp and moan and cry out his name, his thrusts only getting deeper and harder and stronger, the desire to truly fuck you and mold your cunt to the shape of his cock getting the better of him.

Soon he’s fully groaning out phrases into the phone, going on about how you’re so damn tight, fuck baby just like that, shit clench just like that, oh fuuuck! His hips are making an audible sound as they smack back into the couch cushions with every thrust, and with wild eyes he stares down at his lap, imagining the sight of his cock sinking into your cunt over and over, your slick spilling down your thighs and getting everything wet and sticky, the sound of his balls clapping against your ass over and over.

He's close, feeling the trace edges of his orgasm approaching, his toes beginning to curl and his abs starting to tighten and his balls starting to clench and oh –

I missed you that day, Uvogin, I wish you’d been there.

He comes with a near shout of your name, his hips pistoling into his fist as ropes of cum spurt onto his chest, his breathing heavy and uneven as he shakes, his hand trembling slightly as it grips onto the phone so tightly it nearly breaks.

You’re still speaking, but Uvogin’s not listening as he replays your words over and over in his head – you wanted him there, wanted to see him, wanted to be with him. He’s still saying your name over and over, his breathing slowly calming down as his cum slowly dribbles down his chest, and he lets a smile sit on his lips. Running a hand through his hair (still slightly stained with cum, but the euphoria swimming through his veins makes it hard to care), he swallows, saying your name one last time with a small chuckle.

Fuck, only you can make me like this, huh? You’re making me into a real loser, you know that? Fucking himself and pretending you’re here with me. God.

Soon, once he’s gotten enough of a grip on his breathing, he unmutes himself, just in time for you to finish up your report.

That’s about it, sorry for rambling! But anyways, what are you up to?

He smiles at that, giving his cock one final squeeze and licking a bit of cum off his finger.

Just wondering if you wanna get dinner tonight, how about that Italian place you were talking about the other day?

And when you agree, eventually hanging up, Uvogin can only sigh and slap his thigh.

Soon, very soon, he’s sure he won’t have to imagine anymore – soon it’ll be your hand instead of his.

Just the thought makes him groan, blood already rushing south again.

FAVORITE BODY PARTS:

Your Ass

Uvogin likes every part of you, but he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t have a special spot for your ass.

It doesn’t matter the shape or size – it’s yours, and by extension, Uvogin wants to touch It and squeeze it and grope it.

Constantly.

He’s generally a touchy person, both in and out of sexual contexts, and while his handsiness is often innocent regarding you, his hand finds its way to your backside much too often to be considered truly accidental.

He’s a bit fan of idly groping you, letting a hand wander down and give a playful squeeze, only to feel you jump a bit out of surprise.

(He’ll always send you this toothy grin afterwards, telling you that he can’t help it baby, it’s just right there and it’s so damn cute and fuck, if you could see it you’d understand.)

He likes to come up behind you and hug you, pressing himself directly against your backside – your heights likely mean that his cock doesn’t directly sit against your ass, but even feeling his legs against the soft area makes him lick his lips, already imagining the way the soft skin would feel under the rough pads of his fingers.

He likes to smack your ass when you walk by him – it’s always, always light, of course, just enough to startle you but not enough to actually hurt.

He likes the way you get irritated and swat at him, telling you with a cheeky wink and grin that you can always return the favor, babe.

And when you’re actually intimate with one another, this habit of his certainly doesn’t change – he’s always slapping your ass when he’s fucking you in doggy style, going on about how you look so pretty from this angle, all the while groping and squeezing at your poor cheeks until they’re nearly purple.

He’s always cupping your ass when you’re riding him, helping move you up and down with a palm on each cheek, squeezing and holding you so tightly you nearly have no control over your own movements.

He’ll fuck you in a prone bone position, all the while staring at how your ass jiggles with each smack of his hips against it, his fingers (that he’d intertwined with yours above your head) clutching onto yours even harder at the sight.

He’s just genuinely in love with the way your ass looks and feels, and although he wouldn’t bring it up unless you wanted to, Uvogin would love to have you sit on his face, letting your pretty ass be the only thing he sees as you grind and scoop and use him, letting his tongue brush across your clit over and over again all while he gets to admire.

(He wouldn’t even mind if you wanted to scoot forward a bit, letting your pussy rub against his chin while his tongue works diligently at the tight, taboo little hole you don’t normally let him touch. He’s sure it'll feel good, that you’ll enjoy it, that he’ll enjoy it, because it’s just another way to be close to you, another way to claim something of yours as his his his.)

Expect your ass to fondled and groped and smacked at least twice a day, if not more – he just can’t control himself, and surely you understand?

If you were as deeply obsessed and attracted to yourself as he is, you’d have to understand that he physically can’t help himself – not when you’re so goddamn tempting.

His mouth

Because Uvogin is such a pleaser in bed, he’s very quickly exploring the variety of ways he can utilize to get you off.

Of course, he likes the tried and true fucking, making you melt on his cock, but something about it feels a bit barbarian, a little bit too rough sometimes, even if he’s addicted to the feeling of your pussy.

Even his fingers are sometimes a little too much, just because you always tense up so much, your walls clamping down on him and making it difficult to move, the stretch from them alone feeling like the size of any of your previous partners.

Of course, he still likes fucking you and fingering you, but there’s something about using his mouth on you that he simply can’t get enough of.

Maybe it’s because it’s so much more intimate, like something special the two of you are sharing. He’s tasting the most private part of you, a place only a handful of people have ever gotten to see (much less taste), and something about that knowledge makes him swell with pride, a smirk settling across his lips.

Regardless, Uvogin takes every opportunity to use his mouth on you that he possibly can – the two of you are sitting on the couch while you read one of the few books he picked up for you and he watches TV, and suddenly he’s between your legs and pulling down your lounging shorts, looking up at you and licking his lips with a positively feral expression, murmuring that he’s feeling a little hungry, yeah?

Every sexual encounter between the two of almost always including Uvogin’s lips against your cunt in some capacity – he’s a very firm believer in the necessity of foreplay (particularly due to his size), and he spares no expense in making sure that you’re properly wet for him, that you’ve come at least once his tongue, that you’re as prepared and ready as possible in order to take him with minimal pain.

And Uvogin is good with his mouth, too – he’s got amazing stamina, and is able to stick with a consistent speed and tempo.

His fallback is to lick small, tight circles with medium pressure, but he’s always stealing glances up at you to check your facial expressions, adjusting anything and everything he think she needs to in order to get your eyes rolling to the back of his head.

He’ll start with light kisses spanning along your inner thighs and all around your core, pressing butterfly licks against your folds that are barely there and leave you wanting more more more.

He’ll press kisses against your clit, coming down to kitten lick and stare at you the whole time, a smirk sitting on his lips each time you bite your lip or keen.

He'll slowly add more pressure, building up the pace a bit too, until he’s licking shapes against your bud and occasionally sucking it into his mouth lightly, feeling the way your thighs tense up a bit around his head, loving the way your eyes flutter closed and you grasp onto the pillow underneath you.

He’ll occasionally dip down to lick long stripes along your folds, dipping his tongue in to tease your entrance, making lewd, obnoxious slurping noises just to hear you get embarrassed.

He loves it, and as soon as he gets to a pace he thinks you’re liking, he’ll stay down there for as long as it takes to get you coming, whether that be five minutes or an hour – it’s worth it, because when you get all doe eyed and shake and writhe and cream on his face, you look so fucking pretty, so perfect he can’t help but grind against the bed, anything to relieve some of the ache.

DRIVE:

In general, his sex drive is high. It’s always been that way, really, even before you stepped into his life – the thrill of combat and sex are two of his guiltiest pleasures, and he’s absolutely no stranger to hook ups.

He’s not unbearably horny, but he toes the line quite well, needing to get off at least two times a week in order to stay functional and sane.

So really, once his obsession with you forms, sexual thoughts revolving around you are very, very quick to follow.

Frankly, when he first realizes that he’s drawn to you, that there’s just something about you that he can’t seem to leave alone, he genuinely believes it’s simply a sexual attraction to you that’s messing with him. He rationalizes these infant stages of his infatuation with you as simply wanting to fuck you, rather than wanting to have you.

And Uvogin is a man of opportunity – he can’t not imagine stripping you bare and cupping at your tits, smacking your ass, perching you on his lap and bouncing you up and down like you’re just some glorified sex toy.

The images come quickly and startingly easily – too easily, really, because imagining all the different ways he wants to get you screaming his name and gushing for him really should’ve clued him in to the fact that his feelings for you go way beyond physical.

And eventually, once he decides that you’re more than just a hot piece of ass, he can’t just forget about the multitudes of nights he’s fantasized about spending hours with his face between your legs, or the number of times he’s soaked his fist with cum from merely thinking about how you’d look with your pretty face pressed into the mattress, his form caging you into a prone bone position while he absolutely destroys your tight little pussy.

He can’t – won’t – forget, and so as his obsession becomes richer, deeper, more hopeless, Uvogin’s sexual fantasies revolving around you become harder and harder to control and fight. Because really, how can he not imagine even more once he’s realized he’s in love with you?

Sure, he still wants to shove his cock down your throat and hear you choke and struggle with his girth, but now he also wants to trace his tip along the shape of your lips, to see your pretty eyes sparkling up at him with a few tears dotting the lashes, to feel you moan around him at his taste.

Sure, he still wants to bend you over and feel that perfect, tight little pussy of yours, but now he also wants to thrust softly and sweetly, to get deeper and brush against the spot he knows you like, to make you cry out his name rather than just scream and gasp.

The sexual fantasies are still explicit, but they’re more loving, more like making love rather than just animalistic fucking – and of course, once these thoughts develop in their entirety, Uvogin has to exercise an extreme amount of self-control to not act them out.

He’s painfully aware of the fact that you likely aren’t clamoring to sleep with him, partially because you’re infuriated at him for kidnapping you, and terrified of him because of his physical stature and criminal status.

He’s sure you don’t particularly want to be with him in a sexual way (though he hopes, desperately, that one day you will), and the last thing he wants is for you to be even more afraid of him, or to hate him even more.

And so, Uvogin won’t force himself onto you.

He won’t force you onto your knees or strip your clothing off of you or anything of the sort. He wants to, of course, so badly that it nearly drives him insane, but he won’t do it out of respect for you and a selfish desire to get you falling in love with him.

What he will do, however, is make it perfectly, abundantly clear that if you’re ever in the mood, he’s more than willing to oblige.

He’ll tell you, pretty much from the beginning of your captivity with him, that if you ever desire absolutely anything physical at all, he’ll be naked and eagerly waiting for you within seconds.

And that includes everything: simply using those massive palms of his to grope and squeeze at your breasts, calloused fingers gently rolling a nipple between them and listening to the way you sigh out.

(He’ll approach you with this particular offer when he knows your menstrual cycle is nearing, when you’re bloated and soar and desperate for any kind of reprieve – you need someone to hold those for ya, babe? They’re looking awfully heavy, and you’d be surprised how gentle these fingers can be.)

He’ll offer to finger you when you seem stressed, that grin of his wolfish and eager but also strangely genuine, as if the prospect of pleasuring you isn’t just some sexual urge and rather something he wants to do, as if it pleasures him, too.

(This offer is always accompanied with a rather showy wiggle of his fingers, making sure the veins and tendons in his hand are visibly flexing, just to try and entice you even more – and it works, because although you shake your head and tell him that you strongly pass, he can see the way your eyes are glued to his fingers, how your thighs press together ever so slightly, how you can’t hide the desire swimming in your eyes.)

He’ll offer to let you sit on his cock when you’re feeling lonely, telling you that he’ll be there the whole time, how you can’t possibly feel lonely when there’s literally someone inside of you, patting his groin – with pants barely holding back his straining erection – and telling you that he won’t try anything funny he promises.

(And he’ll stay true to that promise – it’s actual torture to not fuck up into you, to not bounce you up and down in his lap and feel the way your walls desperately clench down on him, but he holds himself back. Besides, feeling you slowly, slowly work your way down his length is a treat enough, each inch stretching you further than you though possible, your little hisses and whines and whimpers making him physically throb inside of you.)

He’ll even offer to fuck you when the mood feels right, telling you that he’s never left a partner unsatisfied, that he knows how to treat you, that he’ll be slow and gentle and soft and sweet, something that he means with every fiber of his being.

(At least, he’ll be all those things the first time he gets you naked in his arms – after that, anything goes. He can’t always be expected to control himself, after all.)

It’s mildly intrusive and will make you uncomfortable in the beginning, but as time passes and he doesn’t actually force anything onto you, merely offering, slowly your walls will start crumbling.

If you’re stuck with him, maybe it isn’t the end of the world if you get something out of the ordeal – you’re trapped with him, but does that mean you aren’t allowed an orgasm?

Sure he’s kidnapped you and keeps you locked away in a modestly furnished home, but is it really so wrong of you to accept the pleasure he seems more than happy to give you? Does that make you a bad person, or a selfish person?

With time you’ll start thinking no, that perhaps letting Uvogin eat you out for hours and bring you high after high wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world – and he’ll be very, very happy to oblige.

(And you can tell, too – the way he groans and growls against you makes it hard to ignore, as does the way something warm and wet and thick splatters against your thighs when he’s got you hovering over his chin.)

MAIN THREE KINKS:

Size Kink

Uvogin is more than aware of the size difference between the two of you.

It doesn’t matter how tall you are, or how large you are – he is bigger than you, both in stature and presence and every other measurable way. He’s a hulking figure that takes up the entire side of the dining table you share meals at, needing to wear shirts that literally fall off your frame, dominating and bigger than you in every sense of the word.

And he knows this - he’s completely aware of how you’re so small compared to him, so tiny and adorable and breakable, and when it comes to really anything between the two of you, he has a tendency to take this fact to heart, to be beyond careful in making sure that he does absolutely nothing that could ever put you in harm’s way.

Though he won’t admit it, having you hurt or afraid of him in any way is genuinely one of his worst fears, and although he knows he can do nothing to change his physical appearance, he takes care to come across as least threatening and as welcoming as possible.

And when it comes to the bedroom, Uvo is even more hyper aware, because when he’s buried inside that tight, cute little cunt of yours, his orgasm rapidly approaching, it’s almost disturbingly easy to lose control, to just pin you down and fuck the absolute shit out of you, until you’re nothing more than a quivering, split open mess below him.

He has to keep an incredible amount of focus when his orgasm looms near to make sure that he doesn’t dig his fingers into your skin too hard lest he leave bruises, or that he doesn’t fuck into you at the pace he truly wants to lest he push a little too far and tear something.

He doesn’t want to hurt you, so he tries his absolute best to keep you on top, to keep you controlling the pace and everything else in order to keep you safe and feeling good.

(Besides, he’s got a great view when you’re on top – he can see, all in the same glance, your pussy sucking in his length over and over, your breasts bouncing and jiggling, even your face all twisted up in ecstasy as you ride him as hard as you can. He’s not particularly hands-off during sex, but often he’s tempted to simply lay back with his arms crossed behind his head, content to watch your show and let your cunt bring him steadily closer to orgasm. His desire to see you gasp and stare wildly at him in shock and pleasure often outweighs this urge, however, because he almost always settles his hands on your hips and helps guide you, suddenly thrusting just a hair deeper into you and hearing your cry of a-ah Uvo too deep!)

However, that isn’t to say that Uvogin doesn’t enjoy the size difference between the two of you – on the contrary, he thinks it’s beyond cute, that it’s adorable just how tiny you are in comparison to him.

And while the fear that he could hurt you is very much omnipresent, he can’t deny how it makes his heart race and blood pump to his cock when he sees how just one of his hands engulfs your entire thigh, how you struggle to straddle him because his waist is just so muscular and wide, how your breast is completely engulfed by his palm when he roughly fondles and kneads at it.

It’s endearing in a way, how cute and small you are beside him, and even more obvious when you have your hands wrapped around his cock, your fingers not able to close completely around his girth.

Seeing you struggle so much to simply jerk him off makes Uvo smug, a smirk falling across his face while he groans, little murmurs of your name tumbling past his lips while you work at him, trying desperately to get him to come, to get him to tell you how you’re a good girl, fuck look at your hands, ngh wanna – gonna stretch out that tiny little cunt with this fat cock, you want that?

It’s most definitely a guilty pleasure, something that makes him feel big and strong and important, and in the context of your sexual relationship, there’s just simply no way to get around the fact that Uvogin quite literally towers over you.

(Especially when you’re on your knees, staring up at his imposing stature and the large, swollen, veiny cock sitting at eye level, his voice teasing as he tells you to go on, it won’t bite, I promise. Only I do that.)

Praise

Generally Uvogin isn’t particularly derogatory in bed. He’s not a big fan of degradation in general, both in and out of the bedroom, partially because he’s not a naturally mean person (aside from the criminal activity and murder, of course), and partly because he really does cherish and love you. He thinks you’re beautiful and perfect and everything he could want in a woman, and his honesty bars him from ever saying anything to the contrary.

He doesn’t want to tell you that you’re just a slut, that you’re a hole for him to fuck, that you should stay quiet and let him get what he wants – he wants you, in more ways than one. He loves you, in his own twisted, fucked up way, and he wants your time in bed together to reflect that sentiment.

And so, Uvogin falls on the opposite side of the spectrum from degradation – that is, there’s a nearly overwhelming amount of praise in the bedroom.

Comments about how pretty you are or how good at something you are constantly slip past his lips, his voice gruff and low as he tells that you look so damn pretty on your knees baby.

He’s got a compliment or praise ready for every possible situation in bed – you’re undressing, struggling to get the giant shirt Uvogin had forced you into this morning up over your head? He’s chuckling, grinning, slapping your ass and telling you that you’re so damn cute, princess, makes me go crazy when you wear my shit.

You’re kissing him, pinned below him with your wrists over your head? He’s licking his lips as he pulls back, planting kisses against your neck and telling you that you taste so good, you’re so fucking pretty.

You’re biting your lip and carding your fingers through your hair as he sucks and playfully bites at your nipples? He’s burying his face between your breasts and vigorously shaking it, laughing and telling you that these tits are so perfect babe, god I always wanna touch ‘em and kiss ‘em, how about no more bras around the house? Or maybe no more shirts at all – don’t expect me to control myself, yeah?

You’re sinking to your knees while he sighs and grabs the base of his cock, running his tip over your lips while he stares down at you? He’s telling you that you look so pretty babe, can’t wait to see these lips with my cum on them instead.

You’re perched on his lap, his tip barely nestled inside you while you wince and bite your lip? He’s running soothing hands up your sides, cooing at you that you’re doing so good baby, ‘m so proud of you, fuck you’re tight, feels so damn good.

You’re on your hands and knees, chest and face pressed in the mattress while he mounts you from behind, hips flush with yours and pummeling into you with no mercy? He’s leaning all the way over you and growling into your ear that you’re mine, babe, fuck don’t you ever forget, god this pussy is so good, y’so damn tight and wet, gonna make me come baby, you want that? Yeah? You want my cum?

You’re underneath him, tits bouncing every which way and body physically thrusting back and forth as he fucks into you with a sturdy hand pressing right over your naval? He’s laughing breathlessly, using his free hand to push back his hair and telling you to take it baby, fuck yeah just like that, you look so damn hot like this.

Even when he’s in the middle of coming, thick spurts of white shooting from his swollen, red tip, he’s praising you – telling you that you take him so well, that you always take – fuck, take it all, look so damn pretty with my cum in you.

He just genuinely believes that you’re beautiful, and because he’s naturally quite talkative, this shows in the bedroom – he can’t not comment on how you look, how you feel, how smell, how you taste.

It would be wrong to not let you know how much he’s enjoying being with you, how badly he’s dreamed of fucking you, or how long he’s dreamed of touching you – so really, even if his constant praise embarrasses you, you’d best get used to it. He won’t stop, and if you were to return the favor?

Well, his ego isn’t particularly fragile, but he can’t deny how it affects him any time you moan out about how good he feels or how big he is or how you’re close – oh god, ‘m gonna come, oh god Uvo Uvo Uvo-!

He can’t deny the way his cock jumps, how it twitches and pulses and oozes out precum at just hearing your voice and words, hearing his name and feeling the way your body seizes up all because of him him him.

He’s a sucker for it, so expect sex with him to be loud and full of compliments – even if they’re a little vulgar sometimes (fuck babe, these tits – I wanna fuck ‘em, get them all messy and covered in my cum fuuuck-) or oddly specific (god you taste good, those panties of yours don’t even come close…).

He just can’t help himself, so get used to it – he won’t stop, even if you beg him to.

Cum play

He’s possessive, and it shows in the bedroom.

He’s always got a hand on your body, hickeys bruising your throat, collarbone or inner thighs, handprints decorating your ass, or even a light bite mark here and there along your thighs and stomach.

He likes the concept of claiming you and physically showing that you’re his, and while this presents itself in normal ways like previously mentioned, Uvogin’s favorite form of showcasing that you belong to him is by getting his cum absolutely everywhere on your body.

He produces an insane amount of it with every orgasm – it just keeps coming, spurt after spurt shooting from his swollen tip and landing on your body or the sheets underneath you, all the while he’s groaning and his hips are involuntarily thrusting, making everything even more messy.

His orgasms last easily twenty seconds, with a constant stream of white, and Uvogin loves nothing more than to absolutely paint you with it.

When your hands – so small and cute and soft compared to his calloused skin – are wrapped around him, pulling and tugging, the slick sound of spit and lube clicking in his ears, he’ll give a warning of here it comes, shit baby take it – and immediately your hands are covered in it, pools of cum dribbling down onto your fingers, slipping down your wrist and leaving everything sticky and wet and warm, Uvogin’s chest rising and falling with both the force of his orgasm and the sight of his cum against your skin.

(He’ll always grab your hands afterwards, slipping your fingers into his mouth one by one and licking away his cum, only to kiss you afterwards and push it all into your mouth, entertained by your surprised sound and the way you squirm against him.)

When you’re struggling to fit him into your mouth, only able to take the first few inches and leaving your hands to deal with the rest, he’ll dig his fingers into your hair and hold you there, biting his lip and telling you to swallow every last fucking drop, don’t wanna see any wasted babe before letting go, listening to the way you gag and eagerly swallow everything he’s giving you.

He’ll pull away with harsh breaths, watching the way you eagerly suck in air, your lips wet and glistening with spit and cum, your tongue still painted a white color.

(Sometimes, when he’s feeling particularly possessive, he’ll instead pull back right before letting go, telling you to stay sitting on your knees while he stands, fisting his cock at a near inhuman speed before pointing it right at your face, letting go and watching as ropes land across your cheeks, nose, lips and forehead, your entire face streaked with him in a way that makes his knees weak. Often, he’ll shake his cock a bit right at the end, eager to get every little bit out and onto you, groaning in satisfaction when the last, weakest little spurt lands right on your outstretched tongue. He’ll lean in closer and smear the cum across your skin even more, his voice sounding genuinely awed as he tells you that you’re so damn beautiful baby, fuck, get on the bed, I need to fuck you. Now.)

He loves to have you take his cock between your breasts, regardless of their size – he wants you suckle on his tip and rub your skin against him, feeling your pebbled nipples and the soft plush.

When he gets close, he’ll pull back and finish himself off, having you lay on your back while he straddles your waist, painting your breasts white and paying special attention to smear it across your nipples, pinching and twisting and pulling at them.

And even when he’s actually inside you, his penchant for being picky about where his cum goes doesn’t change – nine times out of ten he will come inside you, pushing his hips all the way the hilt so that he can finish as deeply as possible, the groan he lets out sending pleasure racing up your spine.

You can often literally feel it inside of you – something warm and wet filling you up, his cock spasming with every spurt, his balls clenching and tightening against your ass as he whispers your name under his breath.

(Most of the time, there’s simply too much to keep inside of you – it just never seems to end, and eventually there’s some dribbling out of you, smearing against your folds and dripping down the curve of your ass, sometimes even leaving a small pool against the bedsheets. Uvogin is equal parts proud and irritated when this happens, though – proud because god, you look perfect with his cum leaking out of you, but irritated because all of that really should be inside of you, not wasted and sitting on the bed. So, he'll scoop it up with his fingers, pushing it back inside you and fucking it up into you until he’s satisfied, the wet shmucking noise making him grin.)

Sometimes, though, he’ll pull out right at the last minute and instead come onto your cunt, letting the white settle against your inner thighs and coat your folds, leaving everything in a layer of opaque cream as he growls out your name.

He’ll often have you keep your legs spread even after he’s finished, moving closer to peer at his handiwork, getting so close and staring so hard that you inevitably get embarrassed, especially when he uses both thumbs to spread your folds and watch the cum dip down inside, even a few drops dribbling down inside you, the sight making him inexplicably satisfied.

Really, Uvogin just likes seeing you with his cum – whether it’s on you or inside you, he will find a way to incorporate it – it helps quell his possessiveness, and he can’t deny that the sight just looks so right, like something carnal and primal and natural.

(Unfortunately, though, he is a bit sensitive about you trying to clean it up – he often won’t let you shower after sex, telling you that it's better if you keep it on you or in you, and if you were to complain about it, he’ll just grab a pair of your panties and force them up your legs, the mess he’d left between them soaking into the fabric and making them damp every time you sit down or move. Again, don’t try to fight it – you won’t win, and Uvogin will often reach down between your legs just to ensure that you haven’t cleaned up – it’s a waste, he’d say, and he knows his girl isn’t wasteful.)

OTHER NOTABLE KINKS INCLUDE:

Overstimulation

In general, Uvogin loves to please you.

He’s by no means submissive, but there’s something about bringing you pleasure and watching you fall apart for him that gets him harder than he’s ever been, all the blood rushing to his cock so quickly it nearly makes him dizzy.

He just loves the way you look on the brink of an orgasm, how you look at him with such wide eyes and need, how you clutch onto him and chant his name over and over. He likes how your hips twitch and jerk in his grasp, how he has to physically hold you still so that he can keep his tongue working over your clit or his fingers thrusting into you.

It’s addicting, honestly, in some ways even better than his own orgasms – and so, Uvogin finds himself making it a priority every time he gets you naked that you find your high, unwilling to stop until you come at least once.

And that’s really the key – at least, because any given sexual encounter with Uvogin generally results in you having at least three orgasms. He absolutely loves to overstimulate you – watching you come is one of his favorite sights, those dark eyes of his always hyperfixated on your pretty face as you fall apart, and the face you make when he doesn’t stop?

When he keeps his fingers on that cute clit of yours, still rubbing and pressing and making you feel good even as you gasp and whine about how it’s too much?

Well, it makes Uvogin grin, pearly teeth on display as he tells you to take it baby, be a good girl for me, yeah?

He likes the way you squirm and beg for him, your legs shaking like crazy and your abdomen visibly clenching and unclenching.

He likes the way you get so sensitive and grasp onto him like he’s your lifeline, pushing him to get you off twice, three times, four times, sometimes even five in a single session.

Of course, he likes seeing you pleasured, but there’s a bit of selfishness at play too – because when you’re holding him so tightly and moaning out in that perfect voice of yours please – please Uvogin (he’s not sure whether you’re begging for him to stop or for more – and he suspects you’re not sure either), how can he not feel utterly self-satisfied?

How can he not feel like a good lover, not feel like your dependence on him is growing more and more with each orgasm?

He views it as a good way to simultaneously get you a trembling mess for him and to also solidify your growing feelings for him - plus, he gets to lick his fingers clean of your wonderful taste while also getting to sink himself inside your soaking wet, twitching, hypersensitive cunt already practically milking him for everything he’s got…

It doesn’t take him long to come after that, and the sight of you exhausted, twitching, and leaking thick, white globs of cum is positively droolworthy.

Femdom

But in a very specific way – you’ll never be truly in charge in bed with him, if only because there’s not a single submissive bone in Uvogin’s body.

Sex with him is under his terms and conditions, but he’s generous enough to care about your pleasure and your desires, too.

That said, Uvo is incredibly entertained by your attempts at dominating him – it’s not necessarily hot or attractive, but it’s incredibly endearing and sweet, and serves to make his heart melt and his cock swell with the knowledge that eventually he will be shattering this fragile illusion of control you’re creating.

He likes when you get on top of him, your poor hips struggle to straggle the expanse of his own, his cock pressing harshly and insistently against your ass while you bite your lip and steel yourself.

He likes the way you try to move his arms over his head forcefully (you aren’t actually moving them, even if you think you are – he’s letting you, manually moving them for you, letting you believe that you’re doing it when it reality it’s all him), seeing the way your eyes light up and your thighs squeeze around his hips tighter.

He likes the way you lean down to kiss him, your tongue rushing into his mouth, your kisses noticeably more aggressive than usual but still nothing particularly dominant.

And yet, Uvogin lets you take the lead, letting you control the pacing, the angle, everything just to maintain this illusion of dominance.

He’ll let you tie the blindfold around his head, limiting his vision but not hindering any of his other senses, conveniently forgetting to mention to you that he can still feel your every breath, hear your every movement, practically taste what you’re going to do next.

He’ll let you slowly sink down onto his length, pulling back every few moments to tease his length and leave him wanting more.

Uvogin will take it all in stride, entertained at the way you try to be dominant and in control, only to shatter it once he decides you’ve had your fun, once you pull off of him one too many times and leave his cock wet, throbbing and needing your pussy so badly it hurts –

It’s not hard to rip his wrists out of the dingey bindings you’d placed them in earlier, fingers immediately digging into the plush of your hips to force you back down onto him, setting a brutal pace combined with his own thrusting hips and moving your body up and down so that every brush of his cock into you leaves you gasping, panting for air because it’s all so unexpected and he’s just so deep and big and god…

You can try being dominant all you want, because he finds it entertaining and endearing, but know that at the end of the day you will be the one at his mercy, your body simply his to toy with and tease as he sees fit.

BIGGEST FANTASY:

It's no secret that Uvogin is possessive – you’ll learn this from the very moment you become aware of his feelings for you. He firmly, whole-heartedly views you as his, just as he is yours.

And in the context of your sexual relationship, this mindset of his is only more apparent, more blatantly obvious with the way he clutches onto you and tells you how much he loves his little pussy between your legs, the way he leaves bruises on your hips and ass from smacking you or holding on just a bit too tight while he’s fucking you, or even sinking his teeth lightly into the flesh of your shoulder so that you’re marked as his.

It satisfies the intense desire he feels to keep you by his side and away from everyone else, all with the added benefit of getting you writhing and moaning his name.

And so, most of Uvo’s fantasies in the bedroom tend to branch off from his possessiveness – specifically, while it would be unlikely to happen, he desperately, desperately, wants to fuck you in a semi-public space so that his fellow Troupe members can hear.

He wants them to hear you screaming his name, your pleas and cries sounding like music to his ears and showing them exactly who gets to touch you, who makes you feel good, who’s allowed to dump fresh, potent cum in your cute little hole.

It makes him giddy, genuinely, excitement brewing in his chest because he loves the idea of publicly claiming you, about making sure that everyone knows that you’re his, that every part of you belongs to him.

He likes everyone knowing that only he gets to touch you and make you moan and scream, that it’s only ever his name that’ll be leaving those pretty lips of yours.

Plus, this fantasy fulfills that possessive urge without actually letting other people see you – he can’t stomach the thought of any of his fellow Troupe members actually seeing your naked body or the way you look at the height of your pleasure – Shizuku can’t ogle like she does, Shalnark can’t fist his cock to the sight of your tits bouncing, and even Franklin can’t swallow and ghost a hand over his crotch at the sight of your body taking his too-big cock.

It’s perfect, a fantasy that he’s harbored since the early days of his infatuation with you – and while it’ll take a while for him to actually act out, he wants nothing more than to utterly claim you all while his friends can hear.

“You gonna scream for me baby?” Uvogin grunts, his hips snapping into yours just a bit harder.

Everything feels like too much – he’s holding you up against the wall, the cold brick digging into your back just mixing with the onslaught of pleasure his cock is giving you, bullying its way inside you and leaving you clenching down on him with every thrust. He’s so big – stretching you out nearly past your limits, making you drool and moan and shake, thoroughly destroying you long before he’s even bothering to reach for your clit.

You’re a mess already, and Uvogin knows it. It makes him smirk, staving off his own orgasm in favor of making sure he fucks you just right, just to make sure the rest of the Troupe can hear you on the other side of the wall.

“I can’t hear you.” He growls, burying his face in your neck and biting his lip to hold his release at bay. It’s hard to – you’re so damn tight and warm around him, and each time he pushes just the tiniest bit deeper inside you, you squeeze up like a vice, massaging and pulsing around him so well that it makes his knees weak.

“Fuck, Uvo Uvo Uvo Uvo -!” You’re chanting his name, the words slurred together and sounding strained, and it only makes him thrust into you harder, enough force landing on each push of his hips that it physically gets you bouncing, even mid-air.

He can hear faint, muffled talking from the other side of the wall, and it only makes him bare his teeth, lightly biting the shell of your ear. His fingers dig into your thighs, his grip on them firm and tight.

“Shit baby, tell them who’s fucking you like this,” He starts, only to cut himself off with a groan when you clench down on him particularly hard. His hips stutter for just a moment, and you claw at his back at the sensation.

“It – it’s you, Uvogin!” Your voice is strained and slurred, and it makes Uvogin grin.

“Who’s cock is this perfect little pussy taking? Who’s it belong to, huh?” His voice is gravely and deep, husky and making your toes curl as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Uvogin Uvogin Uvogin!” You’re practically screaming at this point, and he hears a dull thud from the next room over.

He barks out a laugh and buries his face into your neck, forcing his hips to go faster, harder, deeper, anything to get you louder.

And it’s working – you’re physically trembling, hips twitching and jerking wildly in his grasp, a non-sensical slurry of words spilling from your lips that make his heart and cock ache, each sound you make sending him closer and closer to his end.

“Tell me what you want baby, fuck fuck fuck, tell me where you want it.”

“Inside! Please Uvo, inside, need it inside me –“ You’re blabbering, but he doesn’t mind. A finger comes down to roughly press circles against your sensitive clit, and your reaction is immediate – you tense up, every muscle in your body seizing up as the pleasure mounts and mounts, his hips never stilling and drilling into that spot inside you over and over and over again –

You come with a scream of his name, your cunt fluttering wildly around him, squeezing and pulsing and massaging him in a way that gets his knees scarily close to buckling, his own orgasm right on the brink as he presses you even tighter against the wall, leaving no space to breath as he literally fucks you into the brick.

“Don’t you dare stop,” He warns you, each word punctuated by a sharp thrust.

Another loud bang comes from the other side of the wall, and Uvogin freezes for just a moment as he hears the faintest sound of panting, of someone cursing under their breath, of something muttering out an oh fuck…

He comes with a loud groan of your name, spurts of warm, thick cum settling inside you and making you cry out again, the sound music to his ears. A muffled groan sounds from the other side of the wall, and pride swims in Uvo’s gut as he watches you try to recover, your body shaking and your lips all swollen from biting them. He kisses you, hard, his tongue slipping into your mouth immediately, before helping you stand on your own and paddle to the bathroom to clean up.

Once the shower starts running, Uvogin sighs and slips out the door, walking into the other room with a smirk spread across his lips. Feitan, Phinks and Nobunaga all look at him, the first with a disgusted look, the second with a noticeable blush, and the third with dazed eyes, clearly in the aftershocks of his own pleasure.

Uvogin laughs, settling a hand on his hip. “Like what you heard, huh?”

Nobuanga nods, Phinks’s blush only settles deeper, and Feitan snorts.

Uvogin’s smile drops at that, his nen flaring up. “Too bad you’ll never even touch her.”

His cock twitches at the mere thought, and soon he’s sliding open the glass door of the bathroom, pressing your chest against the tile wall, determined to see if his friends can still hear you over the sound of the rushing water.

#yandere hxh #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere uvogin #hxh smut #_hxh #_uvogin #_lee's profiles

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zxphy · 1 year

Note

Okayy so you wanted some ideas, right? I saw your incel! Scaramouche post and I was wondering what your thoughts are on a yandere incel! Xiao? It's a popular idea but I really love it and maybe you could write it for Fem! Reader or Gn! Reader if you don't write fem! Readers

☆ No bitches?

Yandere! Incel! Xiao x Fem! Reader

Tws/cws: Xiao, misogyny, women beating, domestic abuse, use of the word "retard", implied noncon, fem aligned reader lmfao, gaslighting, doxxing, rape and murder threats, and non consensual groping. Multiple spelling mistakes are present. Both you and Xiao are 18.

Smut written by a minor, dni if uncomfortable.

Xiao was your best friend since childhood, but as you both got older into adult hood, he started acting different.

A lot more grabby and forceful. He was unable to get a girlfriend or get laid, so he went to reddit and 4chan to vent his frustrstions, there he met lots of people just like him.

He may or may not have asked them "why do women not like me", getting multiple misogynistic replies. Bro was easily manipulated then turned into a self proclaimed "incel" in about a month. He believed everything his new group of friends said.

He always talked about his discord servers and his gross friends to you, saying how they give him the best advice and their misogynistic views about how women should know their place and yada yada.

You started to hang out with him less and less, as Xiao grew incredibly insufferable. Just being near him made you uncomfortable, you were scared of even being in the same room as him.

Even though you hardly talked to him, yiu still interacted online because hey! He's been your best friend since birth you don't have the heart to end the friendship.. :(

The less time you spent with Xiao, the more time you spent with Aether, one of his best friends. Xiao obviously took notice of thst, and his huge crush on you did NOT help.

Xiao considered himself a nice guy, thinking he deserved sex from "females". Complaining that girls only want Chads who just use them for their body and leave, as if incels aren't the same thing but worse.

You wanted to help him you know.. NOT have that mindset, but his stupid 4chan friends kept encouraging his disgusting way of thinking!! :(

At sometime, Xiao eventually confessed his love for you. But honestly, you kind of expected that to happen considering you were the only chick that even looked in his direction, let alone talked to him. You let him down as lightly as you can, trying not to set him off. Cause from what you heard, self proclaimed incels usually never take "no" for an answer and take every rejection personally.

"I'm sorry Xiao, it's not you.. it's me." Oh it's definately him.

"But I'm a nice guy! I'll treat you well and get everything you want. I have a job, I can spoil you!" Ah. That would make sense as to where he gets all the money to blow on hentai from.

"I just don't have any feelings for you besides platonic ones. I'm sorry and I hope this doesn't ruin our friendship." You begin to sweat, praying you didn't set him off.

Xiao looked down to the ground at his feet and sighed. "I understand." You sigh in relief, until Xiao says this,

"Can I at least have a hug?" Oh fuck.

You begin to sweat more and nodded slowly, "S-sure man.." you open your arms out for a hug and Xiao embraces you tightly, good fucking god he smells disgusting. When was the last time he showered?? It should be common knowledge that axe body isn't a substitution for showers. The scents clash in a way that make your nose hairs burn and your toes curl. It took everything out of you to not gag.

But on the other hand, Xiao was in heaven, you smell so good! His face is in your hair and he takes a big whiff and he shudders, obviously enjoying himself. It's been forever since he's been so close to a girl, let alone YOU.

His hands slowly trail down from your back and get lower, eventually he had his hands on your ass and gave it a a light squeeze. You push him away and laugh nervously and wave him good bye, leaving him by yourself.

Days go by and you started getting mysterious phone calls, text messages and messages on your social media from anonymous people. Majority of them being death and rape threats.

Anonymous672

U stupid bitch why did u leave him to go fuck his best friend??

And another,

(777-777-777)

Im gonna rape u then kill u in an alleyway u deserve it stupid whore.

And another,

Anonymous929

I know your address.

And another...

Anonymous476

Get ready to get raped!

And... another.

(555-555-555)

He's gonna put you in your place, whore.

One time you even got a phone call and it qqs just a guy heavily breathing into the phone then threatening to rape you and then bury your body in the woods for "rejecting a perfectly nice guy."

At that point it was kind of obvious as to why you're getting such threats. Either Xiao has been using alt accounts and throwaway numbers or he had doxxed you to his other "nice guy" friends. You were honestly pissed, was he THAT butthurt because you didn't want to have sex with him? He needs to get a fucking life. Xiao used to be an amazing guy, your best friend, but now his stupid "nice guy" phase tore you both apart. You thought the rejection went well, that he'd be normal about it, but then he goes doxxing a girl because she didn't want to have sex with him? What the fuck?

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and started looking for Xiao's number, you hit him a message.

(You)

Xiao. Read 1:44pm.

(You)

XIAO. Read 1:57pm.

(You)

XIAO ANSWER ME, FUCKWAD. Read 2:00pm.

I know what you did. Read 2:00pm.

(Weird Fuck)

(You)

Xiao did you fucking doxx me?? Are you retarded? What the fuck is wrong with you, people keep threatening to rape and kill me you fucking ass wipe. Read 2:01pm.

(Weird Fuck)

Im sorry just meet me at my place

(You)

What?? No dawg, I'm not gonna go to your fucking house, I wanna know why you fucking doxxed me, we were literally best friends before you became a fucking misogynist. Why did you doxx me?? Read 2:02pm.

(Weird Fuck)

Come over and ill tell u

(You)

Kys. Read 2:02pm.

You shoved your phone back in your pocket and you huffed. Who does that fucker think he is?? All because you wouldn't date him!!

You being you, you still went to his home to get answers. He didn't deny doxxing you which ulset you even more. His dick probs got hard just by you texting him. (He did :3) You're sick of sll the threats, you just want it to stop. You just want Xiao to stop his bitchless behaviour. Now you're gonna do something about it.

-------------------------------------------------------

You walk up to the lavish home and knocked on the door. Of course Xiao still lives with his dad instead of doing something productive like going to colledge like his twin sister Ganyu. You folded your arms and waited. You assumed that Mr. Zhongli wasn't home because you heard some random porn game from the third story window, Xiao's room.

You knocked again, but this time louder. You heard the game pause, then a door slamming, then rapid footsteps going down stairs. You hesrd a voice from behind the door.

"Are you the delivery guy?" *Xiao.*

"No fuckwad." You replied back. The door slowly swung open, revealing Xiao. He looked a lot more gross than you remember, he looked incredibly dishevled, with messy greasy hair, a random tshirt with very suspcious stains and dandruff on it, baggy gray sweatpants that aldo had a suspcious stain, but this time on the crotch area, and a pair of perscription glasses, the frame kind of similar to yours. But what you really could not get over, was the smell. He smelled like he hasn't showered in months, he smells entirely of spoilt food, semen, body odor and sweat. Disgusting.

"You look and smell like shit." You push past Xiao and walk into the lovely home.

"You came." He mumbled.

Of course you came, you wanted to know why the fuck he'd doxx you. He grossed you out comepletely, he was a digusting good for nothing freak. Xiao was actually a nice guy, he got good grades, was super sweet to everyone and made his father proud.

Xiao avoided eye contact and told you to follow him to his room, so you both could talk. You shook your head, feeling uneasy.

"Mr. Zhongli isn't home, why not talk here?" He ignored your question and walked up the stairs. You followed behind but kept a reasonable distance. Reasonable being several feet.

Xiao opened his bedroom door and you were immedately met with a horrible stench, his room smelled like him but worse. It smelt like semen, piss and shame. His room was covered in hentai posters and anime girl figurines, his clothes thrown all over the floor, and in the corner there was a really expensive looking gaming set up.

He could afford a multi-monitor gaming set up but not deoderant?

What couldn't go unnoticed was the collection of stiff socks gathering in a pile near his bed.

"Xiao what the hell? Your room is a fucking biohazard, feels like I need a gas mask and a hazmat suit just to be in here." You felt sorry for his father, you couldn't imagkne what it feels like having a son just like Xiao.

You walked into the room, being careful of wjere you step, Xiao sits in his gaming chair and then types a message into his Discord chat. He then got back up and cleared a space on his bed, throwing whatever was previously there onto the floor. "You can uh.. sit there."

You shook your head, but then you looked back at Xiao and he looked like he was about to cry. You felt bad so you sat anyway. You're definately burning this skirt when you get home.

You got a proper look around the room, not only seeing the weird posters, but pictures of you.

Creepy...

Xiao sat in his gaming chair and swung side to side, he looked nervous. Sweating as he looked at you.

You finally spoke up breaking the awkward silence. "So Xiao, why did fuck did you doxx me?" Xiao stayed silent and looked away from you. This really set you off. "Don't ignore me you asswipe! I've been getting threats of violent rape, I home you know you committed a cyber crime!"

"Relax, (Name.)" Xiao said still not looking at you. "It's not that serious." You scoffed and felt yourself getting more mad.

"Not that serious? NOT THAT SERIOUS?? Xiao! For the love of fucking christ, people are threatening to kill me! Why would you doxx me?!" You raised your voice at him, and you saw him get more nervous.

"Well.. I-I don't know I just. Me and you were like really close, but then you started fucking Aether.." You huffed, even more angry than before, "God fucking damnit Xiao! I'm trying to not fucking strangle you, but you're making it so hard!" You stood up and continued yelling, "You were so cool until you started acting like this! Kf course women won't like you if you keep thinking that she's gonna hop on your gross cock, Xiao! No one wants your tiny penis, I can assure that!"

You folded your arms and contued, "Sorry you feel so offended because I feel SAFE around Aether! He doesn't talk about how women's only purpose is to have kids and serve her mans or whatever, unlike YOU!"

Xiao fumbled with the draw strings on his sweatpants, "I-I don't know I uh just thought that you'd like me I g-guess.."

You face palmed. "Xiao. You doxxed me because I didn't want to date you? Dude! I explicitly told you that I have zero attraction to you. I only have PLATONIC feelings for you man. We had a good friendship but your gross ways ruined it-"

Xiao interupted you, "I'm a nice guy (Name), I'll treat you right. You're not like other females.."

"Oh my fucking god, Xiao..." you pinched the bridge of your nose. "I cannot believe that you think any girl would want to date YOU! A gross, disgusting people of shit incel like you! You're retarded if you think any girl would want your gross penis inside of her!"

Xiao stood up, "Fuck you (Name)!" You staggered back, surpised of his sudden outburst.

"Females like yourself are the problem. All you do is fuck chads and leave actjal nice sigmas in the dust!"

You blinked before letting out a laugh. "PFFTT!!! Dawg! Fuck this shit for real, and you know what? I'ma go to Aether's place to fuck him! How doed thst make you feel, Xiao? You gonna cry??" You flicked him off before getting up, walking to leave the room.

Suddenly your arm gets grabbed and you're pulled back, thrown onto the floor. Xiao gets on top of you and punches you square in the nose. You let out a loud squeal of pain.

"Xiao what the fu-" Xiao picks you up from under your arms and puts on on his bed, he starts feeling up your body, his hands trailing up yojr skirt, fumbling with the hem of your safety shorts.

You kicked him in the stomach and punched him in his face, Xiao staggered back and held his stomach as his glassed fell off his face, you took the chance and pushed him off you and ran.

Unfortunately for you, you tripped on the wires spewn about his room and you fell, Xiao took this opportunity and turned you around and kicked you until you stopped fighting. As an extra measure, Xiao grabbed your head, lifted it slightly then slammed it back down into the floor. You gripped your head in pain and whined.

"Xiao? What the fuck.." you wince. Xiao once again picks you up, and drops you onto his head, his hands trailing up your skirt. He lifts it slightly and pull down your safety shorts revealing your panties. His obvious erection poking through his sweatpants. Xiao went back to his gaming chair and once again started typing on his discord server, before getting up and locking his bedroom door. Too busy holding onto your head and lightly crying in pain, you had not noticed that he actually did lock the door.

The teen walked back over to you, took your shoes off and peeked off your safety shorts. He got close to you and whispered into your ear, "How does it feel to be put in your place?" He slapped you playfully.

Xiao shoved down his pants, his hard cock springing out. He hasn't shaved in a while, revealing curly black n green pubes covering his pelvic area. The tears that were threatening to fall, have fell, hot tears flowing down your cheeks hoping that Xiao isn't gonna do what you think he's gonna do.

"Xiao please. Don't do this.." You looked up at him in fear. Xiao ignored you and pulled off your panties, revealing your pussy. He threw them into a random direction. He pressed himself against you.

You're struggling to process what the fuck is going on, you're being held down, Xiao's dick is rubbing against you and half your clothes are missing.

Xiao then tore off your tshirt and threw the shreds in another random direction, then took off your bra, groping your chest the second he saw your tits.

"You're so fucking pretty.. and you're all mine." Xiao took his fingers and spread apart your lips, revealing your lovely pink insides. Xiao shoved two of his fingers inside of you just to test and you yelped.

"Fuck yeah, you're tight as balls." Xiao removed his fingers and quickly replaced his fingers with his thick cock.

He then slammed inside of you, putting his hands around your neck.

You're his now.

ANDDD.. DONE! I'M SO GLAD I HAD THE MOTIVATION TO WRITE THIS..

I honestly think I got a little too into it, anyway I hope you guys enjoy! :3

@mistywaves98

#🌧⋆⁺₊⋆✿:zeze's creations✧#incel xiao #yandere genshin impact smut #yandere #yandere xiao #dark content #yandere genshin impact #darkfic #dark fic #genshin impact smut #genshin x you #yandere genshin x reader #yandere xiao x reader #xiao x reader #gross xiao

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