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ozzgin · 2 months

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Hii I was wondering if u could do a yandere Kazuya x yn x yandere Daitou I’m not sure if u do character x yn x character tho

Yandere! Yakuza x Reader Spinoff

Two yakuza men who have fallen in love with their new foreign tenant. A what-if spinoff to the original story for that love triangle spice. Happy Valentine's Day!

Content: female reader, NSFW, organized crime, obsessive behavior, violence, BDSM themes (choking), threats

Credits: My boyfriend for giving me the Daitou smut idea

[Main Story] [General Headcanons]

Kazuya is sitting on the sidewalk, checking his watch occasionally and tapping his foot. The cigarette seems to have been forgotten, hanging lowly from his lips.

"Sorry I'm late." Daitou speedily makes his way towards his friend, smiling awkwardly.

"Where the fuck were you, man? We don't know how much time we have before the cops arrive."

"Uh uh, leave it to me." The cheeky grin doesn't leave his face as he pulls out his gun and carefully but swiftly inspects the barrel and safety one final time. "(Y/N) needed some help with the mailbox. I couldn't just say no, ya know?"

The blonde man's eyebrows raise for a second, but he quickly recollects himself.

"I see. That's good."

"She asked me to show her the area tomorrow, so I'll be working extra hard tonight. Hehe."

"That's good."

Daitou glances at Kazuya, somewhat wary.

"You okay?"

Stupid question. What's he supposed to answer? Yeah, he loves waiting like a dumbass while his friend flirts with the new tenant, who conveniently happens to be a cute foreigner, who's been unexpectedly nice and relaxed around them despite them explicitly stating they're part of the Japanese mafia. Fucking hell. It doesn't help that this idiot is as obvious as a blaring, blinding cluster of ads smack in the middle of Kabukicho. He can tell from miles away that Daitou's completely fallen for her. Just like that, in an instant.

They've been partners and best friends for years now, so the natural reaction would be happiness, right? Daitou has always been one scary motherfucker. Even the seniors scramble when he's in the room, let alone women. For him to find someone that isn't bothered the slightest by his appearance or background should be a celebratory occasion. Kazuya should be rooting for him. Except, well, he fell for you just as hard. Tough luck.

The Bushido moral code, often used as guidance within their own lifestyle, covers matters such as loyalty and honesty quite extensively. A true warrior remains fiercely faithful to his master or companions. And yet, love interests are more of a grey area, especially if they happen to overlap. Who dictates the proper etiquette for this dilemma? To whom is loyalty directed towards? Truth be told, Kazuya couldn’t care less. He’s always been a man of vice, impulsive and greedy. If he wants something, he takes it.

The trouble starts when the other person is of the same mindset. Two ferocious predators eyeing the same victim.

***

You fiddle next to the tall, dark-haired man. Similarly, Daitou is avoiding eye contact, looking around in hopes of finding something to focus on. It’s the first time he’s come over since the incident. After his little mission with Kazuya, he was tasked to “interrogate” some of the remaining members to get even more names for the hitlist. He’d completely forgotten about his promise to show you the neighborhood. Hands sticky with blood, he was in the middle of his signature act of benevolence, putting the lad out of his misery.

It was around that time you decided to be the one picking him up instead, for your grand tour. Your knocks on the door remained unheard, however, so you decided to politely make your way in.

“Sorry, I hope I’m not-”

You froze in place. A man (you assumed at least based on the few visible traits left), tied up on the chair, canvas bag roped around his head. Daitou’s hands were secured around his throat. In the few seconds of silence, you could hear a muffled wheezing, as the stranger’s chest heaved in short convulsions.

“-intruding.” You mumbled, regaining your speech.

He messed up, didn’t he? Daitou sighs and slicks his hair back. He can’t blame you if you’re now terrified of him. He had to come over for some tenant checkups and you’ve been maintaining a safe distance from him during his entire visit. What can he possibly tell you? “Hey, I know I threatened to chop you up and you’ve now witnessed firsthand I’m a legit murderer, but, uh…I have a crush on you? Dinner at seven?”

You’re terrified alright, but not of his deeds. Rather, your newly discovered perversion as a consequence of the gory scene. It’s not that you relished in the torment of another. It’s the other details that left you reminiscing. Daitou’s imposing frame, the unbuttoned shirt revealing his traditional tattoos glistening in beads of sweat, his flexed, brawny arms, and large hands. You’re scared of your shamelessness. It can’t be normal. Yet you can’t stop thinking about it. Just a glimpse into this memory and your cheeks become burning red.

“I’ll be on my way then”, the yakuza announces politely.

Though he immediately stops in his tracks, and you realize you’ve unconsciously grabbed onto his sleeve. Uh oh. What now? You mumble an apology without releasing your hold. Being this close to him makes your heart drum inside your chest.

To hell with it.

“I might say something terribly inappropriate right now, but…”

“Sorry?” He stares at you, dumbfounded.

“Do you have anything planned after this?” You ask quietly.

“N-no?”

“Would you mind staying over?”

“Huh? Sure…w-what for?” His mouth is dry, and he searches your eyes in confusion.

“You know…” Choke me until I pass out and such, you think to yourself sarcastically.

He turns to face you, lips pursed awkwardly.

“You’ll have to be clear with me, Miss (Y/N). I’m not good with all this tiptoeing around and I might get the wrong idea.”

Your ears perk up hearing his final words, a deep blush now spreading over your flustered features.

“What wrong idea?”

Daitou fidgets with his glass prosthetic nervously.

“Well, uh, a man can only dream, ya know? Especially around a cute girl like you.” He reveals with a stutter.

“Suppose I’d be willing to go along with anything on your mind. What then?” You twirl your hair, gazing shyly at the floor. Not even you can believe the audacity leaving your lips.

The tall man steps before you, towering above with a certain gleam in his eye. It’s yearning. Your knees weaken.

“Don’t tease me, please. I can hardly control myself around you as it is.”

You release his sleeve and instead cling onto his shirt with both hands, looking up through your lashes.

“I’m dead serious.”

He ponders his next move with a click of the tongue, then cups your cheeks between his hands and lowers himself until his hot breath tickles your nose.

“Are you? There’s no going back after this. Can you handle it?” His voice is suddenly deeper, raspier.

Before you can respond, you feel yourself lifted and you yelp, surprised, instinctively wrapping your limbs around the yakuza. In between the greedy kisses that leave your lips bruised and swollen, you don’t notice the movement back towards the seating area.

As you pull away to gasp for air, he throws you onto the couch, flipping you over in the process so that you’re kneeling away from him. Your nails dig into the soft fabric of the sofa. You hear Daitou unbuckle his belt and you squeeze your legs together, heavily aroused. He presses his palm gently into your back, arching it. You sense his fingers grazing over your core and you whimper.

“G-go on, please.” You beg, swaying your hips tentatively. “I really can’t wait anymore.”

“As you wish, Miss.” He reassures you with a grin.

He adjusts himself and carefully makes his way in. You don’t have time to enjoy the feeling; following almost instantly is his belt looped around your neck, tightening under his grip as he pulls the ends towards him. Your head is forced back, and you groan. You can hear the leather stretch and creak over your assaulted skin, the constriction briefly cutting your oxygen intake. Hot drool trickles down your chin and your eyes almost roll back in pleasure.

“Look at my little Miss (Y/N), taking it like a champion.” He bends over and bites your earlobe playfully. “Does that mean I can be as rough as I want?”

You nod erratically.

The grip around your throat intensifies and your vision becomes blurry.

“Hey, don’t pass out now.” He inserts two fingers in your mouth, pulling you by the cheek and tilting your head to look him in the eye. “Not before you show me that you understand your situation. You’re mine. Is that clear?”

He drags his fingers downwards, aiding your response as you struggle to contract your muscles.

“Attagirl.” He concludes, satisfied.

In the morning you wake up with a dreadful soreness, and you can quickly see why. Your body is peppered in bruises. Daitou is smoking by the window and promptly flicks his cigarette out once he realizes you’re no longer asleep.

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” He begins, remorseful, and squats in front of the bed. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

“I will need a day or two to recover before the next time, but otherwise I’m fine.”

He beams with delight upon registering your words: next time. You can’t help but snicker at his childish enthusiasm. It’s a mystery how Daitou can switch between ruthless killer and cute partner with such ease.

Although it’s no secret, really. It’s you.

***

“Thanks for driving me home, Kazuya.”

You smile and unbuckle your seatbelt, reaching for the door handle. Daitou has been busy with work for the past days, so Kazuya took his place in looking after your needs.

“Huh?” You rattle the grab handle one more time to make sure. “It’s still locked.”

The blonde raps the wheel impatiently with his fingers. Is he to silently accept his loss? Does it even count as a loss when he hasn’t even had the chance to present his piece? Daitou has been quiet about it, but he can read that bastard like an open book. Something definitely happened between the two of you and the mere thought drives him insane.

Ah, this is so unlike him. There are few things he cares about. His pride, his Family’s honor, his freedom. Women aren’t exactly on that list, yet somehow, you’ve snuck your way to the very top of priorities and he’s realizing it just now. It’s becoming harder to ignore his maddening urge to have you. Out of all the things…He’d give Daitou the world. But not you. He can’t. He can’t.

“Kazuya? Are you listening? You forgot to unlock the door.”

“Say, (Y/N) …ever fucked in a car before?”

“What?” You ask, baffled.

“Come here for a moment.” He swiftly slides his seat all the way back and pats his thigh.

“Are you out of your mind?”

He answers your inquiry by pulling out his handgun and lazily pointing it towards you.

“I’m only going to ask once.”

You clumsily climb over the center console, straddling the yakuza with a slight pout.

“Someone’s in a sour mood, that’s for sure”, you complain. “It’s not even loaded.”

“Even I’m not crazy enough to risk shooting my Princess.” He smiles apologetically, throwing the gun on the backseat. “I thought it’d be more threatening that way.”

He removes a strand of hair from your face, gazing at you intently. His hand lingers for a second, before sliding its way down, tracing the side of your body. You shiver.

“Can you truly blame me when there’s such a pretty girl right before my eyes?” The blonde exhales and focuses on your shirt instead. “Won’t you let me prove myself?”

From this distance, despite the dim lights, you can discern his features in agonizing detail. His long lashes, his fleshy lips, currently parted, the luscious locks of hair casually thrown back. Kazuya has always been effortlessly handsome. It’s not just his good looks, but his overflowing charisma. He always knows exactly what to say and do. A devilish power to have over people, and you’re presently his victim.

His slender fingers play with your first button and cheekily undo it. You can only observe it, entranced. Your legs are weak, and your arms are stuck in place, resting limply over his broad shoulders.

“May I?” He glances up at you with a pleading expression. “I won’t be able to hold back afterwards.”

You bite your lower lip, distracted. Whether or not this is a wise choice, you can’t currently tell. You squirm in his lap and suddenly feel the pressure coming from below.

“Go ahead.” You finally confess.

He doesn’t hesitate and slithers his hand underneath your shirt, popping the rest of the buttons open. Like a hungry animal that has stumbled upon a feast, he sinks his teeth into your neck, leaving mean, wet kisses on his way down.

One hand is greedily kneading your curves, encouraged by your soft whimpers, while the other strokes your thigh in anticipation. With a bit of readjustment, he finds the right spot between your trembling legs. You jolt at the sensation of his cold fingers.

“My, you’re already dripping. How lewd.” He whispers between breaths. “Do you want it now?”

He nonchalantly slips out and undoes his own pants. You lift yourself expectantly and let a moan escape your lips upon feeling the erection throbbing right below.

“Well then, can’t forget our manners, can we?” He announces, visibly excited. “What should I do?”

You glare at him, feverish.

“Stop teasing me.”

“Come on, be a good girl. Tell me what to do and I will do it, Love.”

Why, this…You lower yourself to his ear and answer in a lulled whine.

“Isn’t it obvious? I want you to fuck me.”

Words enough to send the blonde man over the edge. He abruptly clutches your thighs for support, easing himself in before continuing with increasingly aggressive thrusts. Husky whimpers roll out of his mouth, desperate and starved.

“Oh, I’ve waited so long for this. My darling, perfect little (Y/N).” He presses his forehead into your chest, indulging in the moment. “Now say that you’re mine. Please. Please say it.”

“I’m…ah…I’m all yours, Kazuya.” You manage to blurt out, growing dizzy.

“That’s my girl. Such a good girl.”

Once the deed is finished, you flop your head over his chest, trying to catch your breath. Kazuya smoothens your clothes meticulously, holding you with one arm for support. Can’t leave a lady all disheveled, after all.

“Won’t Daitou be upset?” You point out, somewhat anxiously.

His muscles are tense for a second and he furrows his brows.

“That’s one strange way to thank me for making you come at least twice. Mentioning another man’s name.”

“I’m just…” your words trail off.

“What? Worried? You think I can’t handle it or something?”

Far from the truth. Both Kazuya and Daitou are violent, dangerous men. Given their stubbornness, you’re rather certain they’d end up killing each other. Not your favorite outcome.

“I don’t want either of you to get hurt.”

He sighs loudly.

“I’ll tell you what. Under normal circumstances, I’d probably dismember whoever had the guts to even entertain the idea of meddling with you. But…just because it’s Daitou, I might be willing to share. Nothing more than that.”

Kazuya ruffles your hair and chuckles.

“Aren’t you glad I’m such a diplomat, Love?”

“More like batshit crazy, both of you.” You retort, stretching.

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forbidden-sunlight · 4 months

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yandere! literary agent with fem!reader scenario

warnings: implication of obsessive thoughts or love.

There might be potential triggers in this story. If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please hit the 'back' button on your mobile device or computer and read something much more pleasant.

You are responsible for your Internet consumption!

Hey guys, welcome back to another yandere fic, introducing Yulian Prescott. I'd like to give a big shout-out to my dear friend @deathmetalunicorn1 for helping me write this and finding the perfect likeness for my character, especially when this idea came to me all of a sudden on a Sunday night when I should be sleeping instead of staying up an ungodly hour.

As always, bullying on here will not be tolerated. If it does happen, this scenario will be taken down. I'm not sure if this will be a series. At the moment, this is just a scenario.

With that being said, sit back, relax, and let's dive into the cutthroat world of publishing.

PART TWO

Yandere!Literary Agent is a man who prides himself on being very good at his job. He represented one of the best publishing houses in the country. Anything less than what he expected from his clients was unacceptable.

If the manuscript arrived in his inbox exactly two minutes past the promised deadline, he would not look at it. If his client is acting like a stupid moron at a function or royally fucking up their reputation by posting something inappropriate on their social media account, he is not cleaning up their mess. He is not their babysitter. They are full-grown adults. And if one of them is not able to produce another book that will actually sell past the number of copies slated to be printed, he will let them go. Call him cruel if you want. Yandere!Literary Agent is simply being pragmatic. He wasn’t cheap. He only wants the best of the best.

So imagine Yandere!Literary Agent’s surprise when a particularly difficult client sent him a completed manuscript. He planned on writing her an email that after much deliberation, it was time for her to find another agent to represent her. The client, Abigail Crowley, had written an adult dark academia trilogy and a feminist retelling of the myth of Theseus, told from the perspective of his lover Adriane. The manuscripts following the conclusion of her last book, however, were complete shit. Her royalties were nearly gone, having squandered them on a penthouse in a high-end neighborhood, the latest clothes, and a wine fridge. You heard him. A fucking wine fridge when she could have replaced that shoddy laptop of hers with something better so she could keep writing books and not have it crap out on her.

Half-amused and half-annoyed at this pathetic attempt to keep her contract with the publishing company from being null and void, Yandere!Literary Agent clicked on the attachment and read it. One page became four, then fifty. He had to force himself to stop when it was lunchtime and he was already at the mid-way point.

This story, it was…good. No, it was more than good. It was absolutely fantastic. And Yandere!Literary Agent did not compliment his clients’ works very often, which meant he believed at this very moment, this manuscript will most definitely become Abigail’s comeback to the literary industry. Book sales would go through the roof, A Netflix deal was also possible. But the first hurdle he had to overcome was pitching the manuscript, and making sure the query letter was at least consistent with the story that Abigail was trying to sell to him.

And he’ll make it happen. He is very good at his job, after all.

Once he had successfully pitched it with a bit of extra charm, he contacted Abigail. She was over the moon, promising to make any necessary edits to the manuscript and it will be sent to him on time. From there, time fast forwarded. ARC books were sent out, Abigail selected the cover designs for the regular and special editions, and a tentative book tour was scheduled. Seven cities, and one international trip, maybe another in the future. Sales for this book were projected to exceed expectations. Yandere!Literary Agent was very confident things would go smoothly from here. At least he had thought so.

A month before the book was to be published, his secretary knocked on his door and said he had a visitor. They insisted on seeing him. Yandere!Literary Agent raised his brow, rising from his desk and stepping out into the hall and saw you.

In the beginning, he will begrudgingly confess that his first impression of you was someone who is painfully average and out of place. A backpack slung over your shoulder, dressed in navy blue medical scrubs and looking absolutely haggard. Your eyes, though, shined with anxiety and determination. You inclined your head.

“I apologize for the sudden intrusion, I know you’re busy, but I have some concerns about the book that’s going to be released soon by Abigail Crowley.”

Yandere! Literary Agent’s gaze sharpened.. “And what, pray tell, are your complaints?” He crossed his arms. “Are you one of the people who had signed up to be ARC reader and didn’t get their copy?”

You raised an eyebrow. “...No?”

“Then why -”

“Because it is my novel that is being published. Without my consent.” You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Look, I know it is hard to believe, I get it.” You then swung your backpack around to your front, unzipping the larger compartment. You pulled out a large notebook, some papers, and a flash drive. You held them out to him. “But I think what I have here might convince you to allow me ten minutes, if not five, to hear me out. That’s all I’m asking. This isn’t about money, this isn’t about suing your company. I just want my story back. I’ve already tried talking to Abigail about it, and she isn’t picking up my calls. Please.” You said. “Three minutes.”

His schedule was clear until the two o’clock meeting with another client on the other side of town. That was about an hour and half from now, as he had just come back from lunch. He supposed he could give you three minutes. Rolling his eyes, Yandere!Literary Editor swiveled on his heel.

“Let’s see what you have. Melissa, please hold my calls until I’m done.” His diligent secretary nodded and went back to her desk. You followed him like a lost little duckling back to his office. Once the door was closed, you handed him everything.

Yandere!Literary Editor went over the materials carefully, flipping through the pages of the notebook. The outlines and character designs were here, all written in excruciating detail and in such tiny print. He asked you random questions, going off of his memory from the manuscript and these notes. You answered him without hesitation.

“Yes, that’s correct. What? No, absolutely not. I would never have those characters be romantically paired up! Their relationship is too toxic, and wouldn’t set a good example to the target audience. I’m sorry, what? No, that isn’t her name! It’s Cristabel, not Anastasia! She’s supposed to be assisting the Night Emperor with collecting intelligence via the gossip of salons under her alias, not swooning over his brother when he’s already happily married to his wife! Good God, no. That scene should not even be there! That’s filler content and makes the character growth of the protagonist seem like the pay-off wasn’t worth it, or that he didn’t learn anything at all since the beginning of the book!”

Yandere!Literary Agent grounded the molars of his back teeth, inhaling slow, deep breaths through his nostrils. Keeping his emotions in check is one of the reasons why he has survived in the publishing industry for this long, and he’s such a successful man.

But hearing you speak about the characters, perfectly recalling the manuscript’s themes and looking back at the notebook in his hand, seeing the colorful sticky notes with edits and improvised scenes written on them…he couldn’t deny it any further. You were the real author of the book he’s representing, and Abigail Crowley played him like a goddamned fiddle.

If this wasn’t enough damning evidence of his client’s plagiarism, you had shown him an original illustration of the world you had created. It was done by an artist you had commissioned on Etsy, with proof of purchase for their services and a timestamp. Three years ago. That was when Abigail’s last best-selling book hit the shelves, and when her creative well began to dry out.

You must have caught on to his irritation, because you told him that you weren’t here to intentionally stir up any trouble. A coworker had told you about Abigail’s newest book coming out, and the premise was exactly yours, at least what was advertised in the BookTok and Youtube trailers online. You’ve been searching high and low for your manuscript, and the only other person who has been in your apartment and knew about your creative endeavors has been Abigail. She wasn’t really your friend, per say. You took some of the same creative writing courses. You eventually found another career to pursue, and you kept writing as a hobby. She went on to become a professional author and never missed an opportunity to show off her success whenever she invited you out for drinks at an upscale bar or went to fancy dinners.

Why would Abigail steal the book you’ve been working on for three years when you work a full-time day job, you had no idea. She’s living the dream that she’s always wanted, defying her mother’s wishes to get a normal job because writing is everything to her, and she would never give up on it. But if you were to be hypothetical, it might be another attempt to somehow get one up on her self-proclaimed rival, Cindy Chen, who is an even bigger success than her.

You then rubbed your eyes. “Sorry, it’s been a long day.” You murmured, standing up from your seat. “Keep the notebook, the maps, whatever you want. If you could return them to me when you’re done, that’s all I ask. And an apology from Abigail, if you’re able to get one out of her. Like I said, this isn’t about money, royalties, or fame. I just want my story back.”

Yandere!Literary Agent immediately stood up, his eyes slightly widened in fear. “Wait, please, just a moment! I know you’re tired, you want to go home…but I need to set things right. If I had known that this manuscript, your story, had been stolen, I would have never spearheaded its publication.” And he wouldn’t have. Not only would it affect his reputation, but the company’s too. Stocks would plummet, and there would be a feeding frenzy on social media with #abigailcrowley, #plagiarism, #sailboatpublishinghouse.

When you looked at him, his heart lurched uncomfortably at seeing your lips fall into a crestfallen expression. You looked so tired, so done with everything, and oh god you looked like you were about to cry shit. Walking around his desk, Yandere!Literary Agent eased you to sit back down and quickly prepared an espresso, possessing a machine to make it in his office so he did not have to walk down five flights to the break room.

You thanked him for the drink and took a sip, wrinkling your nose slightly, no doubt surprised at the taste. You must not be a regular espresso drinker, or prefer how you made it. Either way, he was grateful that you did not bolt out of the office. Picking up his office phone, he dialed Melissa’s number.

“Call all of the heads, including the marketing and social media departments. This is an emergency meeting. Now!” Bless Melissa, she did not ask him questions and said she would get on it immediately, hanging up on him. The next person he called was Abigail fucking Crowley. He sweet-talked her into coming to the office, apologizing for interrupting her ‘creativity time’ and promised it won’t take long. She swore to be there in a half an hour, so long as traffic didn’t back up. Yandere!Literary Agent played the understanding card and hung up, his smile being replaced with a smirk. Hook, line, and sinker. He scoffed. He then turned to you.

“Everything will be resolved soon.” He promised.

“Sir -” You began.

“Yulian, please.”

“Mister Yulian, I understand that you want to make things right, but…can you really get Abigail to talk? She blocked my calls, and the book is hitting the shelves in a month, maybe less than that? How are you going to recover the money that has gone into getting it published, the fees for the printing companies, and the marketing? Correct me if I’m wrong, I’m not too familiar with how publishing works these days.”

You weren’t wrong, at least in the aspect that the company has put a significant amount of money into the publication of the stolen manuscript, your work, he added mentally. It was too late to stop the printing, and the final draft would need a significant amount of changes. Unless…

“Abigail is a plagiarist, and you are the rightful creator. The way I see it, we can salvage the financial loss by putting your name on the cover, and fixing the glaring omissions as well as other scenes you claim shouldn’t even be there.” He sighed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Of course, we would need to have a press conference and explain why we are changing authors, and what she has done. Considering the timetable and coordinating with the printing companies, it will be cutting it close.”

You stared at him silently for a long moment before placing the espresso cup back onto the tiny saucer with a soft clink, releasing a heavy sigh. “If I agree to do this, to help with the edits, probably fuck up my sleeping pattern and might potentially be fired from my job unless I can use some of my PTO, what will I get in return?”

He smiled. “Abigail will be the one to pay for publishing and marketing fees. I can extend the deadline for the revisions by a week. And you will be paid for your time, of course. There will be no need to come here to drop off revisions either. All correspondence will be through email. As an agent, I am qualified to be your representative during press conferences, so you will not have to be present. All I would ask of you is to turn in the final manuscript on time and not say anything on social media until our legal team is fully prepared.”

“No need to worry about Twitter or Facebook. Haven’t logged on to my account in years.” You raised the espresso cup to your lips. “Too much politics.” You tilted your head to the side, a puzzled frown stretching across your face. “Any chance I could get all of this in writing? I might need to get a lawyer if Abigail tries to take it to court and sue me for defamation.”

Yandere!Literary Agent nodded. He opened up a blank document and immediately typed up the contract, including everything that you have discussed and a few other variables. Once he finished, he printed it out, handing it to you. You read through the contents carefully before handing it back to him.

“It looks good - it’s all here and I’m agreeable to the terms.” You said.

Humming under his breath, Yandere! Literary Agent signed the bottom. You signed your name next to his, with today’s date and the time.

He ignored the tiny tingle that crawled up his spine when your fingertips brushed against his as you gave him back the pen. You agreed to stay until the matter with Abigail was over, and he would email you the manuscript so you could go through everything when you get home.

As it turned out, you did not have to wait much longer for the best-selling author to make her entrance at Board Room 3. Exchanging numbers with Yandere! Literary Agent you would wait in the adjacent room until he sent you a text to make your entrance. Melissa escorted you to said room when he received a message from Abigail that she would be here in ten minutes.

It’s time. That was the message he sent you. When you opened the door, revealing yourself to the staff and the flustered Abigail…she snapped.

She rambled how she needed a book, just one more successful book, and she would be set for life. She wouldn’t lose her penthouse, she would still be considered a worthy rival to Cindy Chen, and above all else, she could still write as she had always wanted to do since she was a teenager. You already had a normal job, you had a steady income, you weren’t even a writer. Being a hobbyist writer did not count. Yes, she took your manuscript, but it wasn’t a big deal! You could just write another book when you had time between shifts at the hospital, right?

The look you gave her…it was resignation. Hopelessness. Disappointment.

“Abbie…it wasn’t just a story I wrote. You should know that. Writing is so much more than that. I’ve tried to be nice, to talk to you but you wouldn’t listen. I’m sorry it’s come to this, I really am.” You said. That was the last thing you said before you were escorted outside of the door. Seeing your part in this is over, Yandere! Literary Agent took control of the room.

“Whether it is a hobby or professional writing, it doesn’t change the fact that you stole someone’s work and tried to pass it off as your own.” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “You are a thief, nothing more and nothing less.” Then the lawyers approached Abigail, presenting her with the fees she will need to pay. If there was an issue, going to court would not be an issue as he had all of the evidence needed to ruin the once best-selling writer Abigail Crowley.

Her reaction was….amusing.

After security had escorted the screaming woman off of the premises, Yandere!Literary Agent went to search for you, thinking you had gone back to his office to wait for him. You weren’t there. Melissa said you did stop by her desk, only to leave a message on a sticky note that you needed to go home but promised to get the revisions done as fast as you could, and thanks for the espresso it was really good.

Yandere!Literary Agent smiled softly at the hastily written chicken scratch, pocketing it in his trousers before going back inside his office. You weren’t like any of his other clients. And he would like to get to know a bit more. Who knows? Perhaps….he could persuade you to sign a contract with him, be your agent. You shouldn’t hide your talents from the world. There were people who would love to read your stories, and he had no doubt that the company would benefit from it too.

But there was no need to rush. There was a month until the book was to be released. That was more than enough time for him to work his magic. He is good at his job, after all.

Taglist

@impeakcharacterdesign

@faesdreaming

@faux-ecrivain

@majestichugs

@abelheilonwife

@suiana

@lxdymoon0357

@dxmoness

@tired-of-life-86

@imperfectbloodmoon

@lovely-nightmares

@yandere-dark-cupid

@beardedblizzardexpert

@d10nsaint

@likesugarandcyanide

@justcressida

@mooly-artistic

@cassanderasblog

@swallowtailcherry

@amidst-the-tempest

@usernames-are-so-hard-to-create

@navierkalani

@yanderefangirl

©️do not repost or use any of the characters depicted here without the author’s permission. forbidden-sunlight, 2024

#forbidden-sunlight #yandere x reader #yandere male #yandere #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #male yandere x reader #yandere x you #fem!reader #yandere! literary agent #yandere fanfiction #yandere manhwa x reader #ns.fw #tw obsessive love #tw obsessive behavior

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quokkawritesarchive · 4 months

Note

Just read skz what body part is their weakness. How about we do an uno reverse and do what part of readers body part is their weakness (fem reader if thats ok)

Loveee uu

WHAT BODY PART IS THEIR WEAKNESS? 2 — OT8.

pairing: OT8 x reader(afab) genre: smut, NSFW warnings: marks, hickeys, cumshots, oral (f. receiving), nipple play, ass eating a/n: ty for the request! hope you’ll like it!! part 1 <-

CHAN [stretch marks] … is OBSESSED with you stretch marks. he think it’s so cute and adorable. he loves when you walk around the house in just your panties on the bottom half, showing off your thighs and giving him the chance to express his love to your this part of your body again.

when he is about to eat you out, he always spends a lot of time placing kisses to your stretch marks on your thighs and bottom belly. just the way he single-handedly made your insecurity disappear... now you don’t care what looks people will give you at the beach, because you know that chan is right there - looking at you with hearts in his eyes.

MINHO [ass] … is so obvious that he likes ass. slapping, eating, on his face, messy. the way he is always ready to eat you out and put his mouth to work…

and he is always affectionate in public. don’t worry, he will always find a way to place his hands on your plushy booty. and yeah… smacking… A LOT of smacking to your ass, everywhere, anywhere, all the time.

if he is not eating your ass, he is slapping it, making you count. oh, you won’t be able to sit in the next few days. your skin’d be red and sore and every time you try to sit, the image of his hand on your ass would appear in your head.

CHANGBIN [thighs] … and your plushy thighs cupping his face - that’s it. that’s all he needs to satisfy his own needs, you don’t even need to touch him. he loves to feel the pressure of your thighs on his face, making him choke out of breath.

if you are not sitting on his face, then be sure you’ll find him resting between your legs. he begs you to let him eat you out. he leaves lots of red marks all over your thighs, making you squirm under his lips.

and just be prepared that he’ll always try to slide his hand on your thigh, even when you are in public, pinching the sensitive skin, making you soak through panties.

HYUNJIN [facial features] … is in love with your facial features, you are just so pretty. the countless portraits of yours are proof of that. he loves to draw you, you are his main inspiration and muse.

but do you know what he loves more? cumming all over your pretty face. he is a sucker for cumshots in general, but face cumshots are his weakness. the way his cum would spread over your face, then start dripping off your chin. you’d try to lick it off by yourself, but he’d eventually help you by taking his cum with his fingers and shoving them into your mouth, forcing you to suck.

JISUNG [boobs] … is a boob guy, i just know it. he loves how squishy your boobs are. he loves to hold them and use them as a stress reliever. if he hugs you from behind, he always slides his hands under your shirt to capture your soft breasts in his palms. his big veiny hands are literally glued there.

he also loves nipple play - toying with them, sucking, biting, all of that. he always spends quite some time playing with your nipples. you don’t wanna admit it, but he actually made you cum couple of times by doing so.

if you are wearing something with a low cut, don’t worry, his eyes will never leave you. he’d ignore the whole end of the world just to stare and your boobs.

FELIX [voice] … can listen to you talk for hours. as much as you love his voice, he loves yours. he loves to fall asleep to your voice. when he has insomnia, he asks you to tell a story or just anything; it helps him relax and fall asleep immediately. when he is away on tour or has a busy schedule, he asks you to send a lot of voice messages, so he can listen to them and feel less lonely.

on the other hand, he loves, when you are loud during sex. you whimpers, moans, praises - literally anything you say during sex - he loves it. he makes sure to please you good, so you’ll reward him with your cute little whimpers.

SEUNGMIN [shoulders] … treats your shoulder as his safe space. it looks like he never leaves it. anytime there is a spare minute - he is on your shoulder, already asleep, puffing cutely in his dream.

but, of course, it doesn’t end there. sometimes you think he is glued to your shoulder, because he os trying to cover up all the hickeys that he’s left on you. your neck is literally a painting, and the artist seemed to be in love with the color red. you can’t deny, he is good at leaving hickeys. before dating him, you couldn’t even imagine that your neck could be so sensitive. your neck has so many sensitive spots and seungmin knows them all. but the way cute little whimpers leave his mouth as he grinds your hips, dry humping against you while sucking on your skin, makes you so so wet for him.

JEONGIN [waist] … holds your waist at any given moment possible. he is glued to you. like actually. he’d have his head on your shoulder, hands wrapped around you while you cook; or he’d just lay on top of you, hands slid under your t-shirt while you read.

his habit is pulling you into kisses by grabbing your waist. and honestly, it’s the hottest thing you have ever experienced. you keep getting butterflies in your stomach when he pulls you down to your waist and sits you on his lap. he is so bold with his actions and so cute at the same time.

-> reblog to support me, if you enjoyed reading this and please let me know your thoughts in the comments! ♡

masterlist | taglist

#skz smut #stray kids #skz x reader #quokka request #minho smut #han jisung smut #skz jisung #skz bang chan #changbin smut #hyunjin smut #felix smut #seungmin x reader #seungmin smut #jeongin smut #jisung smut #skz ot8 smut

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sundaycentric · 6 months

Note

I need fluff can you write yandere dan heng and if you do 2 Neuvillete (idk how to spell his name 😭)

Sorry if this goes over the rules you could ignore I loveee yandere dan heng hehe

(separate yandere) dan heng & neuvillette x gn reader

content ★ headcanons, minific, yandere, not proof read, gn reader, reader has hair in dan heng's part, sfw, fluff?

note ★ i love yandere hcs.. idk what it is i just eat them up every single time. but sorry for my recent inactivity ?!?! i rushed these a bit tho.. hope theyre still good </3 mainly just put my thoughts down :(

DAN HENG ★

Dan Heng knows what it's like. He knows what it's like to be locked up, forced away from the outside world. He knows what it's like to be alone and scared. He knows what it's like to have someone watch your every move. Dan Heng knows what it would be like for you. Yet, he can't shake the thoughts and desires to take you.

Dan Heng knows it's wrong. He can sympathize, which is probably why he tried to deny it all in the first place. However, he's been so selfless. He accepted punishment without complaint. He helps around the Astral Express so much. It's hard for Dan Heng to not be selfish this once and indulge in his love.

That is if he can even call it love. Dan Heng tried to deny his feelings for you first. He knew how hard it would be, even without expecting the obsession to come along with it. His draconic heritage makes him more possessive than the average lover. They hoard what they love, and it includes their mates as well.

Dan Heng can't avoid it entirely, though. Being without you feels like an even worse punishment than his banishment. With you, he feels something he has never felt before. Dan Heng can no longer deny his love for you, even if it may be more than that.

You might notice him giving extra attention to you. It is never anything big, but rather small things. Dan Heng looks at you a bit longer. He smiles slightly when you talk. He stands closer to you. He won't flinch away when you grab his hand. He'll let you into the Archives. Dan Heng will treat you differently.

He is still silent as ever, but he is more relaxed around you. At the same time, he feels more tense, though. Dan Heng doesn't want to push you away. He'll take his time with you.

In his dragon form, his thoughts are even worse. It is harder to suppress his desire for you. Especially when he already begins to subconsciously think of you as his mate. This is when things get a bit more severe. He's less controlled.

Dan Heng's tail might loosely wrap around your ankle as if you'd run. He'll glare at people he thinks are too close. He'll only go where you go. He'll favor you and always find a way to defend you. Things like this are much more noticeable as his love grows.

The Archives have a lot more entries about you. Your physical description, personality, hobbies, interests, and moods all have their own extensive pages. When he can't be with you, he'll simply write or read about you. Dan Heng will find himself reading over your information if he can't go to sleep.

At this point, Dan Heng knows it is more than love. He knows he is obsessed with you. But he doesn't care all that much. He feels something, something that isn't cold. Something that feels good and warm in his heart, even if it is terribly wrong in his brain. He's given up on trying to suppress it. He simply can't, so Dan Heng embraces it. He embraces you. He loves you.

If you do end up loving Dan Heng as well, he will be overjoyed. You can't see it on his face, but the way his tail tightly coils around your waist tells you otherwise. He isn't too big on physical touch normally, but he will always have some kind of touch on you.

He'll get a bit overbearing. He doesn't want to see you hurt. It's dangerous trailblazing. Dan Heng needs you.

If you find out the extent of his love, he might finally lose the rest of his self-restraint. You'd probably run. He doesn't want that. He won't let that happen. You're his now.

Dan Heng gently ran his fingers through your hair, playing with it. You sat down in front of him with his tail securely wrapped around your waist. Your back snugly pressed against his chest. Both of you breathed slowly, enjoying the moment.

"Dan Heng?" You asked. He did not respond. He only continued to mess with your hair. You couldn't see his expression, how he looked at you with utter love in his eyes. He was thinking.

"Dan Heng..?" You question softly. This time, Dan Heng seems to have heard your words. His fingers stop for a moment as he blinks.

"Yes, what is it?" His fingers resume once he speaks. They softly pull through any tangles, Dan Heng paying extra attention to make sure he doesn't hurt you. His tail lightly twitched around your waist.

"I was thinking about going on the Luofu with March and..." You didn't get to finish your sentence as Dan Heng's grip on your hair tightened. It hurt a bit, as his fist pulled on your hair unknowingly. Dan Heng's voice came next.

"No," he said. Dan Heng's voice was far colder than it usually was. He sounded angry and disappointed and upset. It was impossible for you to turn to see his expression with his hand holding your head straight. Dan Heng repeated, "No. It's too dangerous. The.. Stellaron Hunters are there. He is there. If something happens to you, you will never be able to best him in a fight. You need to stay here, where it's safe. Besides, March and the others don't need you. They can do this alone."

Dan Heng's words came out harsher than he was meaning to, but he was too busy worrying about you to realize. He shuddered slightly, imagining what it would be like if you were Blade's next victim. It wasn't hard to figure out Dan Heng is attached to you, so perhaps he would go for you to get to Dan Heng. The thought sickened him. He never wanted to see you in pain like he had to be. Slowly, his grip loosened as he went back to playing with your hair.

However, you were also a bit uneasy. Dan Heng's tone was off, and he had been acting weird recently. You spoke after a few minutes of silence, "I'm feeling tired... I'm going to go to sleep in my room now, Heng."

"Hm," Dan Heng hums, "No. I think you will sleep in here from now on."

NEUVILLETTE ★

Neuvillette also knows it's wrong. What he stays up at night thinking of is illegal. It goes against everything he does in life. Yet, he would never think it would feel so good.

Neuvillette has never been a selfish man. For hundreds of years, he upheld justice for others. He was always fair and righteous, even when it hurt. However, Neuvillette has never really wanted anything specific in the first place. Yes, he yearns to understand himself and others, but he has never felt that carnal desire to own something.

That is, until he met you of course. Suddenly, he felt something he'd never felt before. It was weird, bubbling in his chest sweetly. It made his heart ache with yearning. It almost felt a bit painful, but it was also so enjoyable. He wanted more of it.

You made him feel something he has yet to grasp. He may not understand emotions well, but he knows what certain ones are. But this, he does not know. You made Neuvillette feel something new. Something that made him feel a bit more alive. As if you were the purpose, the reason he was born.

Neuvillette tries to dismiss these thoughts, but it's hard. He must focus on his duties, but he often thinks of you in the moments between work. He knows it's wrong. But it doesn't feel bad. It feels good. So, is it really that wrong?

Neuvillette is still very busy, though. He will get the melusines to spy on you, which they happily accept. Neuvillette often tells them about you since he doesn't have anyone else he can tell. It's gotten to the point where alongside seeing Neuvillette as their father of sorts, they see you as a parent as well. Of course, they think, you must be the monsieur's spouse. They certainly have no issue with simply ensuring their 'parent's' safety, after all.

Neuvillette never corrects them. After all, it makes him feel warm inside. Marriage sounds nice. A legal contract, bounding you to each other forever. Suddenly, Neuvillette seems to pay more attention to marriage documents and trials related to it.

He will never say anything first. Ever. Even though Neuvillette wants you badly, he will not break his moral code and risk doing something irrational. He likely wouldn't either way, but he worries. Especially when it comes to you.

Neuvillette is very protective of you. He wasn't very big on touch, but now he likes to have some sort of contact with you. Holding your hand, arm, waist, finger, whatever it may be. It helps him make sure you're okay. It's been so long since he's felt affection like that, and he tries to get you to spoil him with it sometimes.

He loves it so much when you treat the melusines like they are your children. Maybe one day you can have children together. Whether it's biological or adoption, he doesn't care. Neuvillette wants to be with you however he can.

And once the prophecy kicks off entirely, you're never leaving his sight again. Even if you're not from Fontaine, there's still a risk and uncertainty. Neuvillette won't let you slip away. He can't. He'll pamper you, do whatever you ask of him (besides letting you go), but he just needs you to stay where he knows you're safe.

If you try to leave, then good luck. It'll be raining. Hard. You can barely even walk without getting soaked. It's never been this bad in Fontaine before.. but as soon as Neuvillette sees you again, it's unbearably sunny. The weather is quite extreme.

You're his mate after all. Why are you even trying to leave him, if you are? This is your home now. Neuvillette sighs, perhaps you're just nervous. It's okay, though. He figures you need to adjust.

He won't care if you find out how much he loves you. Why does it matter? Of course, he loves his mate.

"I forbid you," Neuvillette stares you down, "My dear, please, come back over here. I'd hate to request a guard to block the door."

You stop in your tracks, not doubting Neuvillette's words. You could feel his gaze burning into your skull. It scared you. He was incredibly powerful, and it would be best to comply with him, no?

You turned around. He smiled gently, "Good. Now come, sit back down, mon ange (my angel)."

You listen to him, slowly walking back towards him. You sit on the couch next to his desk before he sighs. The rain gets a bit harder.

"You know that's not your seat," he murmurs. And you know exactly what he means. Neuvillette waits for you to return to him, and sit on his lap—your seat. You do.

"There," Neuvillette breathes out on your neck. He wraps his arms around your waist and buries his face into your neck. The rain alleviates, slowing. You shake a bit in his grasp, either from his breathing or your possible fear.

"Shh.. it's okay, mon cœur (my heart), is it that you're cold..?" Neuvillette asks sweetly, before holding you tighter. "I'll warm you up, my love. Just stay with me.."

His hands begin to rub circles into your back as he flips you over. Neuvillette isn't manhandling you roughly, but he does it with such ease. It may not be purposeful, but it's a reminder of just how much stronger he is than you. After all, he is a dragon. He uses his glove hand to gently push you against his chest. Neuvillette effectively trapped you in his warm grasp.

"Neuvillette.." You say softly, "There is no need to hold me like a lifeline."

He smiles but doesn't loosen his grip. "I beg to differ. After all, I don't think I could live without you, so you are my lifeline, no? My lifeline and my mate.."

Neuvillette's voice is longing. You won't be able to get out of this any time soon. The rain disappears alongside your smile (or frown).

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ilovetoxicfictionalmen · 8 days

Text

LIKE A GOOD GIRL

Pairing - Cillian Murphy x fem!reader

Summary - You're Cillian's assistant and he doesn't take it well when you ask him for some time off to go away with your boyfriend.

Warnings - Dark, stalker themes, obsessive, hand job, p in v, threatening, manipulation, naive.

Word count - 2.8k+

It started off with an unwitting smile on his lips, a new encounter that was able to make him feel more jovial when the intention was to purely oversee your concentrated work performance. A simple yet strict questionnaire which should have taken no more than 30 minutes turned into almost 2 hours of discussions with both of your joys and ambitions in life. Throughout the whole interaction, his blue eyes carefully lingering over your body, admiring the mix of proper and teasing that was your pencil skirt and blouse tucked in your tight fitted blazer.

Mentally, Cillian hired you on the spot, but he had to make it seem more professional. So he waited until the next day to bear the good news. Shamelessly, he was awake all night replaying your encounter and widely smiled with excitement about how he was to have you as his assistant.

Denial, complete denial Cillian was in about his obsession with you. You were just his assistant, nothing more but certainly nothing less. Your performance was exceptional, his schedule never overwhelmed him anymore and you created pathways for him to experience the greatest opportunities for his career and overall happiness.

He dreamt of your curves, soft hair, luscious lips and mesmerizing eyes at night. Moaned out your name in his sleep as he humped the bed in vision of you being beneath him. Everytime he would wake to be hot and bothered, but he always blamed his hormones and lack of intimacy with his busy lifestyle.

You were kind, innocent, thoughtful, selfless and fucking naive. Images of you bent over the desk, on top of him in the backseat or trapped under him always played in his mind. Sometimes he would find himself lost in your lips, immensely staring at their movements and the mental begging to have them wrapped around his length.

When you’d ask if he was alright he’d blink back to reality and assure you he was. It always went over your head, you’d always tell him to lay down and rest up. But that was the last thought on his mind, as there were much more sinister things he wished to do, to you specifically.

It was a consuming job, you knew it before you signed up for it. You’ve had your experiences in this league but never knew the lengths or how tiring and restrictive it could be at times. Cillian had a busy job, he suggested it was best if you always accompanied him (even though a lot of the time you could work from home). So you were always booking the next flight out. But Cillian was a kind boss, he’d always promise a night together each week to help the both of you to unwind. Always in some secluded restaurant or sometimes he’d even cook for you at home.

Your relationship developed like quicksilver, sometimes you’d be on the phone call until late at night because secretly he just wanted to hear your voice. Working for him showed you how lonely an actor’s life could really be. Never getting a break to catch up with family or friends. You were thinking of organizing some time alone for him to relax, he deserved it.

Innocent, it was always innocent encounters in his eyes. The line was never crossed by him. He kept his urges locked up, not because of the fear that it would be a public relations nightmare but because he feared he would eat you whole if he let himself have a taste of you.

Sometimes Cillian would ask you to do the most bizarre tasks just to remind himself how dedicated you were to him. It was nice to remember how much control he really had over you. His heart would swoon whenever you’d surprise him on set with the food he was craving the night before, simultaneously to his cock twitching in his pants. Every time he’d have to rush off to the bathroom to jerk off his primitive urges to devour you right there in front of everyone.

It was almost midnight, and here you were, helping Cillian turn the house upside down for his passport. He had misplaced it and felt overwhelmed with not being able to find it before your flight tomorrow.

The pair of you had checked all rooms of the house, you suggested backtracking his steps but it wasn’t much help. When you were in the kitchen, he slipped his passport out of his jacket pocket, a small smile on his lips.

“Found it!” Cillian called out, smiling like a deviant teenager.

Shortly after, your footsteps were heard as you approached his study. “Where was it?” You asked as your head poked around the corner, a relieved expression settling in.

“Underneath my script” he lied perfectly.

“Oh” you murmured, eyebrows scrunching slightly. You could have sworn you checked there.

Cillian raised his watch to his eyesight and lightly gasped. “Gosh, it’s so late darling. I didn’t even realize the time” he apologized. You waved your hand to him in a dismissive manner.

“Oh, don’t stress about it. It’s all a part of the job” you reassured as you softly rubbed your arms, your tired eyes blinking heavily.

Cillian smiled at you and took a step closer to you. “Did you want to stay the night? I feel so guilty having you drive out here. You can keep your car here and we’ll swing by yours for your luggage” Cillian offered, completely painted with innocence and kindness.

“Oh, no it’s alri-”

“I insist” he flashed a wide smile, his tone trickling of demand rather than hospitality.

“Okay, sure” you nodded your head in complete agreement. Completely oblivious to the true colors of his offering.

It wasn’t the first time you’ve stayed over. A couple of times you had too much wine and passed out in his guest bedroom, completely unaware of his lingering dark eyes that stood by the door for hours. He wanted to touch you, he truly did, but was too afraid he’d never be able to stop. So he resulted in pumping his shaft in his trousers, biting his tongue harshly to hold back his moans.

“I was actually wondering if I could ask you a question” you smiled softly.

Cillian hummed and gestured for you to continue on and you did. Immediately, Cillian’s stomach was hollowed out. All over a simple, innocent question on your behalf. But, he felt like you had betrayed him, committed treason over your relationship. His body went stiff, blood boiled as teeth almost cracked from how harshly he clenched his jaw.

Time felt like it went still, as all of these negative emotions fireballed in his mind.

“So?” You asked, your eyebrow cocked up and sweet smile locked on.

“Sorry, what was that again sweetheart?” Cillian asked blankly, trying to hide his true thoughts, wanting to pretend that he didn’t know what you just asked in desperate hopes you could read him. Mentally demanding that you correct your mistake but you were still just as naive from the moment he met you.

“Am I able to have some time off? It’ll be three days max. Samuel really wants to take me away on a surprise getaway, he’s been going on about it for months”

How long have you even had a boyfriend? Cillian never asked, the idea of it was too aggravating for his ego. But you never even mentioned him to Cillian. He thought you guys were closer than that, no he knew you were, how could you hide this from him?

“Who’s Samuel?” Cillian frowned as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Oh! My boyfriend! He admires your work and would love to meet you one day, I think I may have hyped you up too much… But he’s a playwright” you explained yourself in a cheerful manner, almost giggling.

There was a silence which quickly turned awkward when you noticed his eyes twitch. You cleared your throat and looked away from him slightly as you rubbed your arm anxiously. Cillian took a large step towards you and threw his passport carelessly onto his desk.

“I don’t think I can approve of your leave” Cillian answered, emotionlessly.

Perplexity filled your thoughts as the tension quickly brewed in the study. You had to clear your throat once more and awkwardly scratch the back of your neck.

“Oh, really? Um, can I ask why?” You asked, your voice cracking slightly as he took another step towards you.

“It just doesn’t sit right with me” he spoke in a low tone.

“Pardon?” Your eyebrows scrunched at him.

“I don’t like the idea of not knowing how safe you are, you’re better in my care” he answered simply, shrugging his shoulders lightly.

You snorted at him and shook your head. It all made sense now, he was just feeling a little too overprotective over you. It made sense, the pair of you had spent so much time together these past few months, you cared for him too. Cillian stood directly ahead of you, looking down to you with a tilted head.

“Cillian, I appreciate the thoughtfulness but I’m a grown adult” you reassured, your hand touched his bicep and he grunted.

Cillian considered his next argument, nodding to himself when he decided he would say it. “Well maybe I also don’t like the thought of him fucking you” he continued on.

You hand shot back from his arm and you took a step back, your expression flashed with horror as you stuttered.

“Sorry?” You whimpered, stepping back every time he took a step closer to you.

“Why would I allow you to go away to get fucked? Whilst I’m confined here, all alone with nothing but my hand” Cillian frowned, tilting his head further to the left as he quickly moved towards you and blocked the doorway.

Your footsteps swung around as you found yourself stepping backwards to the desk.

“Where is this coming from?” you gasped, your hands planted on the wooden edge.

“Do you know what you do to me?” Cillian asked blankly, his eyes boring into your skull.

There was no answer from you, so he closed the distance, he gripped harshly onto your wrist and brought your hand to his crotch. A heavy cry escaped your mouth at the stiffness in his jeans. Cillian’s eyes rolled back as he moaned out, his hips flexing forward.

“Can you feel that?” Cillian moaned, slowly rubbing your hand over the tent in his pants.

“Cillian” you whined, paralyzed in fear.

“That’s what you fucking do to me” he grunted, pressing your hand firmly over his erection.

“M’sorry” you whined pathetically, eyes swollen red with tears as your body trembled.

Cillian rubbed your heated cheek with his free hand and pouted to you. He tsked at you as he patted your cheek in unison to his sounds, his dark stare frightening.

“Don’t be sorry… But you have to fix it, okay?” He ordered softly, sweetly.

“What do you-” you blubbered, knowing what he did imply.

“Touch my cock baby” he smiled innocently.

“N-no” you shook your head.

His hand swiftly wrapped around your neck as he pressed you against the desk, you cried out in pain and fear and Cillian grinned at you. The hold around your throat warned you to obey him.

“You’ll do as I fucking tell you” Cillian growled, his grip tightened as his teeth flared at you. You nodded your head quickly and he released your throat.

His hands gripped onto both sides of your face, his breath fanned over your mouth as his voice dropped to a whisper.

“Does he fuck you good?”

“Cill-”

He repeated his words slowly, each one dripping with jealousy and anger. You sniveled under him as he breathed slowly, waiting for your answer as he gently humped his hips against yours.

“Uh! I don't know” you stammered out. The overwhelming clouds stormed over your thoughts.

“Naughty girl… I thought I made it clear you were mine” he tsked at you.

His hands fell to your waist, his thumbs rolled circles as he lifted you onto the desk. Spreading your trembling thighs, your skirt raised and his slender digits slid down to your core.

“Cillian please!” You cried out. But you were too fearful of the outcome of trying to push him off of you.

“I am your boss, you’ll address me as sir” he demanded, his forehead pressed against yours.

“S-sir please stop. I’m sorry” you begged as his fingers toyed over your covered pussy.

“Why did you never tell me huh? Little fucking whore” he spat at you.

One hand pulled your panties to the side as the other rolled over your wet folds. Biting back your moan, your tears flooded down your flustered cheeks and Cillian grinned at you darkly.

“Never thought of me at night? Never thought of us?” Cillian taunted, a digit pushing itself into your tight canal.

Shamefully you did, but he was your boss and he was so much older than you. It felt so wrong every time your fingers found its way into your panties when you were all alone in bed.

“Sir please” you moaned out, your eyes rolled back slightly as you sniffled to him.

“I think you liked the idea of being mine, but were just too subconscious, am I right?” Cillian cocked an eyebrow to you as he slipped another finger inside of you.

Your head nodded rapidly as you pressed your face into the crook of his neck, your arms wrapped around his back whilst you cried against him. Cillian hummed, gradually picking up the speed inside of you as your moans were muffled and the shaking hold tried to still itself.

“You’re going to touch my cock, alright? Then I’m gonna fuck you. After that, if you’re a good girl, I’ll eat you out. Maybe before our flight you can suck my cock, eh?” Cillian grinned as he slipped his fingers out of you.

There was no reply from you as he quickly pushed his pants and underneath to his knees. You were too afraid to look down, but you could feel him stroking his size against your inner thigh. Cillian kissed your ear then nuzzled his nose against your hair.

Shakingly, one of your hands let go of his back and reached for his length. You squeaked when you felt his firm shaft that dripped of precum. If you didn’t want to look before, you certainly didn’t know, he felt massive, your hand could hardly wrap around the girth.

“You’re okay sweetheart, just breathe” Cillian coached you as you slowly ran your hand up and down his length.

Cillian moaned out as you took his advice and focused on your breathing. Blinking back your tears, your thumb rolled circles around his moist tip. As he whispered sweet nothings into your ear, his hips jerked forward, his arms holding your body possessively.

Roughly, he moved you back up further on the table and took his cock back into his hand. Cillian guided your legs around his waist as he ripped your panties in half. You cried out, your arms wrapped around his neck in fear as he lined his cock to your gushing entrance.

“Need to fuck you” he whined out.

There was no moment of preparation, he forcefully pressed himself inside of you. Completely bruised himself between your clenching walls after a few thrusts. You cried out, your fingernails unintentionally dug into the skin around the back of his neck.

“Fuck!” Cillian hissed out.

Despite how badly he wanted to rest inside of you, his animalistic urges took over his thoughts. At high speed, his thrusts painfully stretched your cunt as you moaned out, panting for a steady breath. Cillian kissed your neck, then bit your neck. His teeth dug into your skin as he desperately wanted to mark you as his.

“Shit baby, I want to stay buried inside of you forever” Cillian whimpered as his thrusts quickly turned runny.

Your teeth flared as you tried to blink back your tears. The pressure against your core was growing rapidly as he hit your bundle of nerves repetitively without even trying. Cillian cried out everytime your walls squeezed his cock.

“Fuck it, gonna fuck you all night. Can’t believe I tried to deny this, deny us. You’re mine, all fucking mine. Ever speak of that fucker’s name again, let alone talk to him, then I’ll ruin you darling. You’ll take care of me during the day and at night, won’t you baby?” Cillian asked, pulling your head back to look at him.

There was no other choice in the matter, you nodded your head to him as you felt your climax climb to the edge, you’d do as your boss told you to do, like the good little girl the both of you knew you were.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x fem!reader #smut #dark smut

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lucyandalexiafan · 3 months

Note

Could you write something where Alexia is obsessed with the reader boobs please

Movie night | Alexia Putellas x reader

I wrote this few days ago and I find now the time to post it🫠. I don't know if you wanted a more smut work, but the result was something really fluff and cute; I don't know why but it came out so sweet, even though the initial idea was something more sexual. Maybe it's because of all the tweets and TikToks that make me watch thousand times the interview she did for the top 11 and I keep hearing 'thank you' and 'Are you a Manchester City fan', which make her seem so cute; or maybe because I'm feeling so single ahah.

Anyway, I'm sorry if you wanted something more smut and less cute, and thank you for the request!

Do not copy, translate or claim my works and fics as your own; if I find out I will report them and block you. Instead, write to me, my directs are always open, and ask me if you can publish your work/fic inspired by one of mine. However, you can reblog them!

I bite my lip trying to hold back a moan.

Ale's hands on my breasts, her fingers caressing and playing with my nipples.

It had all started very innocently.

Since this morning Ale had been very clingy, very physical.

As soon as the alarm went off she pulled me tighter into her embrace, her hands squeezing my chest, muttering jokingly about how 'I don't love her enough' as I wanted to get up, then kissing my neck just below my hairline every time I stayed a few minutes longer in bed with her.

After almost being arrived late at the training, she tried to be paired with me during both the gym and athletic training, finding every time an excuse to touch me.

Her hands had always been on my thigh, arm or hand at lunch.

It was as if she had an extreme need for physical contact, to touch me, but not necessarily sexually.

On the way home we stopped at the restaurant near our house, my favorite Chinese restaurant, and Ale took there our takeaway dinner that she had ordered while she was waiting for me at the end of the second training session. She composed it with my favorite dishes.

We went into our apartment and had dinner on the sofa laughing in front of a stupid American talk show (even though she seemed to understand one word in ten and only laughed when I laughed).

Once we ended our dinner, Ale asked me to watch a film, one of my favorite dark academia films, and I agreed; so, she helped me to clean the table in front of the sofa and the dishes and we lay down on the sofa.

After a few minutes from the start, she lay between my legs, her head on my chest and her hands at her sides. The position itself wasn't uncomfortable, my back was resting against the couch and my head was on a pillow turned towards the television, my hands caressing her back.

I felt her body relax second by second, the tension from the training slowly flowing out of her body. Every now and then she let out a few moans or gasps, but nothing overly sexual.

About a quarter of the way through the movie, she had moved a little lower, her navel touching my inner thigh, her right temple against my sternum; her hands had started to caress my torso under my shirt, to lightly scratch my hips.

The contact had given me shivers, her cold fingers tracing light circles with her nails.

“I thought you wanted to see the movie amor,” I say, chuckling.

She moans into my chest, her hands gripping the edges of my shirt.

I lift her torso, allowing her to push it over my breasts, braless.

Ale she starts kissing my skin, leaving endless little kisses on my boobs, she draws wet paths that connect one nipple to the other.

Her fingers squeeze my breast in a light grip, playing with my nipples.

"What happened Ale? - she looks at me confused - You are so physical"

"Since when I can be more physical with you? - she asks smiling - I love your boobs so much amor" she says assorted while she squeezes them with her hands.

I gasp, seeking contact with her, and grip her hair between my fingers.

My neck arches back when she bites my right nipple.

She grins against my sternum.

She runs her nipples between her fingers.

"Your boobs are so sensitive - she gasps and then kisses a nipple - That's one of the reasons why I love them… I just need to touch your nipples and you're soaked for me" she whispers absorbedly while she kisses them.

"Only for you, amor - I moan - only for you"

Ale smiles satisfied.

She bends down and kisses a patch of skin just below her nipple. She sucks it, leaving a clear purple mark on me, releasing it with a dull sound.

"When you're really horny you can have an orgasm just by me playing with your nipples - she bites my right one, passing it between her teeth and making me moan- It's never happened to me before, but it's so… so-"

I gasp when her fingers squeeze a nipple tighter, too tight.

My hand shoots out and grabs her wrist, not knowing if I want to stop her or ask her to do it again. Ale bends down to kiss the fingers surrounding her wrist, leaving small sweet kisses on my skin while she whispers to me that she's sorry.

I arch my back towards her asking her to touch me, to keep touching me.

“They're so soft – she whispers as she leaves a hickey on my other tit – and just the right size for my hands.”

I bite her lip looking at her.

She raises an eyebrow.

"Are you saying they are big? - She looks at me confused - Alexia, I've never had a girlfriend with bigger hands and longer fingers than yours"

She opens her mouth wide in offense, her eyebrows raised dangerously, while the sides of her mouth turn up in a smile.

Then, suddenly, she lowers herself towards my breast, biting it.

I groan in surprise.

It's not a painful bite, but it will leave a mark.

She smiles satisfied as she watches it.

"Looking at how you ask me to fuck you with my long fingers I wouldn't say it bothers you" she replies in a mock offended tone.

The tongue touching the edges of the bite.

I turn my head towards the couch, trying to avoid her gaze, my embarrassment clear from the color of my cheeks.

"Ale…" I gasp, not knowing exactly what he wants.

"Keep watching the movie, amor" she tells me, her voice betraying a trace of excitement, before resting her head on my sternum.

Her hand continues to play with my breast, the one towards the television, playing with the nipple, running it between his fingers, pulling it towards her.

#woso #woso fanfics #woso x reader #alexia putellas fanfics #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #cute alexia putellas

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zsupika · 2 months

Text

Love and Deepspace x Reader

> general relationship headcanons

A/N: I've been in the lnd fandom for a few weeks now and I'm so obsessed of this game. Keep in mind these are just some random things that I have in mind when I think of them in a relationship.

>> My requests are open if you have any ideas!

Characters: Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel

Xavier

I imagine him as a very caring boyfriend

He'd listen to what you have to say and whenever you have something that troubles you, try and find a solution

His favorite sleeping position has got to be spooning you with him being the big spoon

He just loves to embrace you and know that you're safe in his arms

While laying like that he loves to breath in your scent

And while you're asleep, he plays with your hair and softly glides his fingers along your skin

It calms him down, especially after aonh day of fighting wanderers

He also likes to go on missions together with he

He won't admit it but whenever you get assigned with a different partner than him, he gets so jealous

He just loves to spend time with you

He's more a listener than a talker

Through the entire year he takes notes on the things that you mentioned you wanted to have

When your birthday comes up he buys all those things for you!!

Although he loves to spoil you on valentines day with flowers, chocolate and lots of kisses, he doesn't really see a point in the day specifically

He buys you flowers every once in a while and doesn't understand why there would have to be a whole day dedicated for it

But if you see it as important, he definitely puts up an effort to make you happy and see a smile on your face

He always blushes when you get him something in return!

He prefers to give, more that receive

He also makes sure that you're nicely relaxed after a mission

While you sit on your chair he might come up from behind and give you a soft shoulder massage and some neck kisses to ease your mind and body

I imagine him to smell like lavender and fresh laundry

His favorite drink has to be iced coffee and water

In winter he'll also drink a hit chocolate with you

He loves to add cute toppings and make it delicious

Zayne

As we all know he's a doctor and always very busy

You see him a lot less than you would the other two boys

He appreciates it when you come to the hospital and visit him on his breaks

You'd remind him to relax and take it easy every once in a while

It makes him smile to know that you care for him so much

Him not being able to see you as much makes him sad, so he tries to make the few dates that you go on extra special

He always consideres your wishes and does whatever you desire

You want to stay home with him and watch a movie? Sure, he'd love to. You want to go out to a fancy restaurant? Yeah, he's down.

He has a hard time expressing his emotions with his words, so he's definitely more of a "actions over words" kinda guy

His love language would equal to "acts of service" and "quality time"

His hugs and kisses feel very intimate, because it's his way of expressing his emotions to you

He adores the fact that you understand him so well and that you respect his boundaries

He's a morning person for sure

He likes black coffee

For you he always makes sure that you're healthy

Whenever you get a little sick, he's always worried about you and tries to prevent it with all that he can

It makes you chuckle how much he can get worked up over a little cold

Once you get better he makes sure that you stay healthy and happy

Rafayel

Starting of with a very basic headcanon but I think he'd paint you

But not in the way in which you might think

He wouldn't only paint full on portraits of you but he'd incorporate you into his art in a very different way

He'd draw the landscape of your favorite places

He would use your eye color as the background color of a beautiful still-life

You being around him would inspire him to draw freely without any restrictions

Your laugh would make him move his brush in the same rhythm

Sometimes he'd let you help him with a painting

He also loves to go and search for different ways to create paint with you and look for ingredients

I think even though he's very sassy and bold most of the time, when it comes to intimate moments he'd be rather shy

He blushes a lot!

And definitely has a hard time keeping eye contact with you in those moments

His kisses are more soft and caring than you might think at first

In my eyes he'd be the furthest thing from rough in any intimate situations

He holds you as if you were a fragile piece of glass that could break at any second

He feels like you're the only one who he can let his emotions out on, without feeling judged

Loves sleeping on top of you like a weighted blanket

Slightly snores but not very loud

It's more of a heavier breathing

As we know he's very ticklish

When you two are playfighting you can definitely take advantage of that

He'll be a whining and whimpering mess

Do with that what you want

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gremlingottoosilly · 4 months

Text

Tag Team (dark!Price x fem!Reader x dark!Gaz)

Price and Gaz have absolutely zero thoughts against fucking a pretty civilian thing that was so conveniently kidnapped just for them. Dream team if you want to be squished between two big men with even bigger...hands.

TW and tags: non-con to dub-con, size difference, power imbalance, fingering, hurt/comfort(but it comes from the ones who hurt you), yandere, dark!141, possessive 141, obsessive 141, kidnapping. AO3

Price genuinely had a great day. He woke up at normal time, unlike always – not at 4 AM, with Lasswell urgently sending him a new assignment even though she was the one to convince him to take a break with his boys for a few weeks.

He woke up at 9 AM – sleeping in, really, felt groggy and tired even after a shower and a cuppa with the best tea he could find at the local Tesco. So, the tea wasn’t very good – but he made the most of it, taking time to cook breakfast for himself because it was still less shitty than whatever slop cooks at the base were making – even though he knew his cooking skills were somewhere on the bottom of his priorities. He chewed on overcooked eggs and caught a fleeting thought of going to the small cafe downstairs. The he thought about eating his breakfast surrounded by families on their Sunday off, students with laptops and bright futures ahead, not even knowing just how fragile everything is – how easy it would be to blow up this whole fucking building to make a perverse political statement. He thought about some cute baristas downstairs and felt…intruding. Not in his place.

Still, the day was nice.

And then Captain John Price, Queen’s loyal soldier, a part of the Special Forces, opened his group chat. Just he and the boys.

And the girl Soap apparently kidnapped.

— Couldn’t wait a bloody minute, Soap?

— Good mornin’ to ye too, Captain. Pricer frowns when Soap is grinning exactly like a cat who got the cream – and a pretty bitch in heat on the bed, ready for him. He did god the bitch – and by that captain meant the cutest girl he ever saw. Soft, crying, pathetic thing that was currently sprawled on the bed in a pose that immediately made him want to comfort you. To cover you with something, to help you clean up – after the photos Soap sent, it was only obvious that lil’ poor you were too exhausted to take another round of sex in your state.

Too bad he and Gaz and definitely not going to stop. Gaz is hovering over you already, hands on your hips – spreading them wide, making you groan from displeasure. His sergeant understands everything immediately – you’re tired, exhausted even, you need some time to relax and they can’t just give you this time, no matter how adorable you look while just laying here. John thinks he can hear you sob softly when Kyle pushes you to the side, allowing you to just open your legs a bit.

Gaz knows how to treat a lady nicely – maybe, even more than Ghost and Johnny ever could. He smiles when you whine and quietly ask him to stop – he kisses the corner of your mouth like he is your boyfriend and you’re just a silly sleepy thing, and he giggles when you frown. He kisses you again, and again, and it’s over and over until your face is tattered with little marks from his bites. Not quite as feral as Soap, but he has his whole team on a mission to impress here – and he had a pretty girl crying under him.

— So pretty, luv’. Don’t fret, okay? I’ll be quick.

— Didnae ken ye supposed to tell tha’ to a lady in bed, Gaz.

Kyle pushes Johnny away with one hand – he already got more of his fill than needed, and he wants you to stop being so scared around them. Seriously, pretty thing, you need to relax already – on your third guy, you should understand that these people aren’t here to hurt you. Well, they are, but not in a way that people like them can hurt other people. You aren’t being tortured. Maybe just a little bit – and still, no torturer would kiss your cheeks and your forehead and whisper sweet nothing in your ear as he slowly creeps with his hand over your pussy, glossy from all the lube that was spread earlier. You just got a bit relaxed after the night – just closed up a little, maybe forgetting the state you were in just a night ago, when Ghost was wrestling you on the bed and…your drunk, hazy mind don’t want to remember any of this – so you moan and you whine when these new people, unknown people, are coming in the room to see you. To touch you. You feel like shit and you probably look like shit – but the guy with the beard, the oldest looking, is putting his hand on your cheek and saying something – you aren’t quite sure what, but you close your eyes and listen. If you close your eyes, you can pretend you want this.

— Atta girl. Broken her already. — Thought she’d be a challenge, captain.

— We can always open the door and let her run for it. Want to chase her with your gun hangin’, sergeant?

— Eh, just takin’ the piss. She is soft.

— A soft girl for us. Soap had a keen eye.

Captain smiled and it makes you feel warm – he looks like a bear when he smiles, that kind of a fatherly figure that makes you think of all sorts of weird things. Like how he would look while fucking you, for example – how rough or how gentle he would be. You gave up forcing these thoughts out of your mind a long time ago – if you can’t escape them, you can at least try to enjoy it. They are seriously not hurting you too much – and you never came quite as much as you did now. And still, you beg them like it’s going to change anything. — Pl…please, I…I don’t want to be here. There are new people – you hope they won’t be up for this. You hope that the younger guy with kind warm eyes and an easy smile, the guy who is peppering your face with soft kisses and puts you on your side so you won’t have to spread your sore legs, the guy that gently puts a pillow to make your laying a bit easier, the guy who is acting like a lover and not a kidnapper, would finally cave in, feeling sorry for you.

You failed to notice the glint in his eyes – that sort of thing that makes everyone trust him, that sort of thing that makes you embarrassed to even think he’d be soft with you. Because, oh little bird, his hand, the warm and big, fingers already covered in an extensive amount of lube, slowly creep over to your ass. You whine, trying to wiggle out of it.

He only needs one hand to keep you in place.

— Come on, luv’. No use gettin’ roughen up when we don’t want you to. — Please, pl…just a few hours, I will be good, promise, just…

His palm lays flat between your shoulder blades, making you sink more into the embrace of the other man – the one with the beard and kind smile, who lifts your chin with his hand and pushes a finger inside. Check you out for the biting reflex – like a good girl, all of your bite and bark and claws were lost long ago. Like a good girl, you are closing your eyes and thinking about England – you open your mouth and let his finger in. Your tongue darts to lick it instinctively, the intrusion almost makes you gag. His skin is salty – like sandpaper to your dry tongue, desire to drink to soothe up your throat makes your voice hoarse.

— No, love. Don’t close your eyes on me.

You still don’t open them – a small hint of rebellion not because you seriously think you would get away with it so easily, but because you couldn’t bear to look at them right now. He looks too kind, too handsome, too frustrating for your tired mind. You want for him to stop fucking looking like that, you want for him to stop touching you. You are a rebel, not looking at him properly – mostly because you…

A harsh slap lands on your butt. You whine from sharp pain and it gives you another smack – this is the first time any of them laid hands of you in a way that wasn’t sexual, and you want to cry from frustration. If torture is inevitable, you’d prefer it to be sex rather than pain.

— Listen to the captain, doll. Open your eyes.

— No. Please. — You don’t want to look at me, eh? — Probably too overwhelmed. Poor girl. We should take it easy for her. — She would be fine. Simon picked a strong girl for us. — Strong? Never saw anyone cry so much before. — Don’t like ‘em a bit more wet, sergeant? — I can take a bit wet. She looks bloody adorable like this. — That she is. They both laugh. You feel like you’re going to throw up again – the knot in your tummy getting tighter, with each second the rough fingertips are caressing your swollen and puffy lower lips, every time Gaz pushes one finger up your clit and massages it like your hips aren’t jolting in overwhelming pleasure this exact second. You can still feel the outline of a giant cock that was inside of you last night – you’re still hurting, feeling like it broke something deep inside, leaving you sore and exhausted. You just want to go home. You don’t want to listen to their banter, friendly and condescending at the same time – the authority levels are making you feel dizzy, trying to understand who they are to each other. Who can be convinced to let you go after this. — Open your eyes before I fuck you, love.

You don’t want to, and it gives you another smack – you feel like it’s going to break the skin soon, the guy behind you isn’t holding any of his strength and it makes you worry about his other hand, still playing with the softness of your cheeks, spreading lube all around your puckered hole. The only thing that wasn’t touched yet – and it’s used just like the rest of your body now.

One long, thick digit deepens into your anus, making you whine and try to wiggle out – but you open your eyes obediently, finally, looking at his kind smile. You can almost believe he will be softer with you now, maybe just petting your head and checking with the others – but you can hear him grunting, changing the position to stand right in front of you. A hand under your chin pushes your face up, to an uncomfortable degree – while still impaled on his sergeant’s fingers in your ass, spreading your tight entrance to a degree that lets you know you won’t be walking any time soon. Price smiles when you stare at him, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, still sucking on his finger like a good girl. He opens his belt with one hand, just barely bringing his pants and underwear down to let his girthy cock slap against your cheek. It’s too heavy to stand against his stomach properly, so it spreads little beads of pre-cum all over your skin. You whine when he slaps both of your cheeks with his cockhead a few times, mostly teasing himself – preparing for the main course. He’d love to fuck your cunt and give your lower holes a proper welcome on pair with Gaz – but you look fragile and overwhelmed already. Captain does have a heart, after all. — Don’t bite or we’ll rip your teeth off. Got it? — Pl…please, sir… Oh, you smartarse. Knows how to get him going – knows how to press the buttons that would make even more blood run to his cock, making his erection unbearably hard right now. He smiles when you sob and cry, tears are really making you look even cuter – he pushes his cockhead against your swollen lips, allowing you a taste lick. A little something, solely for you. You whine at the bitter taste, not enjoying it even for a second – it’s a good thing Price doesn’t really care about the thoughts of a random civvie they snatched from a street. The last mission went up the devil’s arse and they all deserve someone warm and soft to just spread their legs and look cute. Maybe, you’ll learn to enjoy their company after the first few weeks. Maybe, he’d bring you back to his house in the countryside, tie you up to the front porch, and use you like the perfect little doorbell. Fuck his pretty girl for a few minutes and let her moans tell him that there are guests. You will do nicely as his pet. So, so nicely. — I asked if you got it. No teeth, little minx, or you will never bite anything again.

— I p…promise. Just don’t hurt me, please, I want to go- — Your home is with us, luv. You know that fighting is useless when Gaz slowly slips his cock inside – not nearly spreading you enough so it won’t hurt. The stretch burns, leaves you sobbing as he slowly bottoms down. Smiling when you wiggle and cry, laughing and kissing the back of your head when his hand slowly slips under your leg to lift it. To provide himself with better access for your small, aching hole.

You want for it to hurt, one agonizing inch after the other – and it does hurt, the man is by no means small, and the only reason you aren’t crying is because your mouth is too busy sucking off his captain. You just blabber something incomprehensible, something that makes them both laugh. You want for everything to hurt, just so you could stop feeling so fucking weird – but you feel the hand slipping down, between the lips of your pussy. Playing with the button of your clit, making you whine as it becomes wetter by a second. You thought there weren’t any more orgasms left to give, but Kyle smiled and pushed his fingers inside of your pussy. Not even wanting to think, you just whine, tongue swirling around Price’s cock as he pushes deeper and deeper. They rock you from side to side – when you choke on one cock too much, throat hurting from the thick length bottoming somewhere far too deep, Price finds his hand lost in your locks, gently pushing you back – deeper on Gaz’s cock. They are working together, perfectly, like a team that has known together for years – there is no hope to escape them, no chance of ever letting yourself go. You want to close your eyes and forget about everything. But when you close your eyes, you can hear the slaps of skin against skin. The wet sounds of your pussy felt ignored as it only stuffed with fingers – as thick as they could be. — You like to take it in the ass, love?

— She’s wet, captain. Never knew she could be such a bad girl.

— Little minxes are the best anyway. Not too much fight left though. — I bet Simon fucked all the fight of her. Didn’t he, doll? You whine, not sure how to answer with a cock in your mouth. They both laugh, knowing your predicament.

You cum embarrassingly fast after this – the rough fingertips doing their job as you’re pushed deeper and deeper into the bed. You hate the damp sheets against your cheek, you hate that you’re so fucking wet, arousal dripping on the sheets only adds to the mess. You wonder if they would just toss them away after this. You figured that men living this kind of life wouldn’t bother with washing the sheets to get rid of the musk. — Pretty pussy feels lonely, yeah? Gaz kisses you again when you cum, whispering praises. Calling you a good girl, the best boy, taking them like a champ – making him and the captain so, so happy, would be hard not to steal you away from Ghost and Soap while they’re too busy with something else. You’re so tired, desperately, you just want to close your eyes and sleep, but they still aren’t done. Still pounding in your body like it’s just a set of warm, tight holes for them – no matter how many praises they whisper. — Will fill her up later. Little thing needs a proper fucking. — Greedy. Not even goin’ to share with me? — Sergeants get sloppy seconds, Kyle. — Glad I took her ass first then. Soap can have her after. — Boy will get spoiled with her around. You get another kiss on your shoulder, barely registrable as you fall tired again. Barely conscious. They continue to fuck you. You’re not sure they will ever going to let you go.

#cod #cod x reader #yandere cod #price x reader #captain john price #captain price x reader #john price #price cod #cod x you #141 x reader #yandere gaz #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #gaz cod #yandere male #male yandere

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slasherbvnnie · 1 year

Text

Until We Found You Part II

Hi again! Welcome back for part II of Until We Found You, please head the tags: Modern Day College Scream AU, Obsessed AFAB!Reader, Eventual Poly!Ghostface x reader, Eventual NSFW, All characters 18+

Part I Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX

The police were practically useless with your case. After your parents had arrived, they checked the house while they told you to pack a bag. You went back upstairs, still cautious in case the killer was lurking somewhere. You felt your foot slip beneath you, remembering the papers on the floor. You picked them up from the ground, stuffing them into your backpack, following it up with clothes and whatever else you needed to take. You looked out of your window, seeing a red beetle pulling into your driveway and Tatum and Sidney getting out of it. You sighed, finishing packing your bag up, hearing the police begin to make their way to your room. “You can all interview her tomorrow, I want her somewhere safe for the night,” you heard your mom's voice from down the hall, putting your shoes on before peeking your head out and looking up at the officer in front of you. “Dewey,” you called out, seeing the man look back at you. “Hey, are you okay? Did the paramedics check you out already,” he questioned, nodding and offering a tiny smile. “Yup, I wasn’t hurt, just kinda scared I guess,” you murmured, what if the killer got the smart idea to frame it all on you now? Why didn’t they kill you? You weren’t scared for your life, just scared they would ruin it by setting you up.

“Oh, good, yeah. You gave your statement already, right?” He asked, you gave a hum in response. “Crazed masked killer wearing a black outfit, yup. Creepy call too, he asked me about an old horror movie, you know, the one I named Irena after. It was fucking creepy,” You said, recalling the incident from less than an hour ago. “Dewey!” Tatum called, pushing past the other officers with Sidney trailing right behind her. “Oh my god, are you okay? Did they hurt you or anything,” Tatum asked as she pulled you in for a hug. “No, I’m- I’m okay,” you reassured her as Sidney wrapped her arms around you as well.

“Honey,” your dad called, making you pull away from the girls. “The Machers said they would be happy to keep watch on all you kids tonight. I’d feel a little better knowing all your friends will be with you,” he said, you nodded. “Yeah, I’d feel better too, did you guys call Randy and Billy already?” You asked as you turned back to Sidney and Tatum. “Yeah, we called them on the way, we asked Stu if we could stay at his since his is the biggest. We kinda figured you didn’t want to be alone tonight,” Sidney said, making you smile a bit as you nodded. “Thanks,” you said before going to your parents. “What about you guys? Where are you going to stay tonight,” you didn’t want the killer to go after them, next to Irena they were the only thing you cared about. “We’ll be at your aunt's house, we will be safe. You just try relaxing okay? We’ll pick you up in the morning to take you to the station,” your mom said before hugging you. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” she sighed out.

“I guess you aren’t the killer after all, or maybe you have an accomplice helping you to throw police off your trail,” Randy said in a teasing way to you, huffing when you kicked at him. “Maybe it was you, Randy. Maybe you saw one too many Halloweens and thought you’d take some inspo,” you said as you put your head back onto Sidney’s lap. “Yeah, Randy’s a perfect killer. He probably did it because you wouldn’t sleep with him,” Stu added, making the group laugh except for Randy. “And who says it wasn’t you, Stu? Maybe you got jealous of her seeing your girlfriend's tits more than you,” Randy retorted, making Stu laugh as he looked at you. “Yeah, what's to say it wasn’t me trying to gut you tonight?” Stu asked in a teasing manner, Tatum hitting his shoulder as Billy sounded in. “Can you two idiots shut up about it? Watch the fucking movie,” he huffed out. “Billy’s right guys, I just want to relax tonight. I don’t want to hear about that stupid fucking mask anymore,” you huffed out. You didn’t want to admit it, but your heart was a little hurt. You had been obsessed with the killings, you didn’t think Weary had killed Maureen, you think it was someone who was still on the loose, the same someone who killed Casey and Steve. The use of knives, the fact that no one saw their face, and how they were killed, it was all too coincidental. You spent over a whole year obsessing over them, only to be betrayed and nearly killed. You were almost killed by the one person who made you feel alive again, someone who brought you excitement, you were hurt by that.

“I’m gonna grab a beer, anyone else want one,” Stu asked as everyone chimed in. “Then someone come and help,” he demanded as he stood, you got off of Sidney’s lap and stood up, “I’ll help. Got anything other than shitty beer down there?” You questioned as he laughed, “I think,” he replied as you two headed down to the garage.

“You know, I’m surprised the horror hottie would follow someone all alone to a dark place,” Stu teased, earning him a shove to his shoulder. “Shut up, Stu. Everyone knows you would probably go searching through my underwear drawer before trying to kill me,” you laughed, “who says I didn’t?” He questioned, making you stumble in your walk for a moment. “Chill out, I was with Tate on the phone while it was going on. I’m just fucking with you,” He chuckled, opening up the fridge and handing you the beers. “Got patron or hard lemonade, take your pick,” he hummed, you pointed at the lemonade. “Hey, Randy’s getting cut off the dumbass keeps talking about his theories,” you heard Billy from the doorway, Stu laughing as he took one of the beers from your hands. “More for me then,” Stu said as he closed the fridge. You turned and saw Billy looking at you, a bit more intensely than his usual crazy eyes. “What? Scared to be near the girl who almost got killed,” you joked as he flashed a smile. “No, surprised you’re still alive though.” “Same here,” Stu said as he looked at Billy, Billy narrowed his eyes at Stu for a moment before he went over to you to help with the beers. “Maybe ghostface has a thing for you or something,” Billy said as you laughed. “Doubt it, I think he got scared that my parents were getting home,” you said, which was partially true, but you couldn’t deny that maybe your obsession helped you survive tonight. “Maybe you have a thing for ghostface then,” Stu chimed in, making your head whip to him. You blushed, shaking your head, “as if,” you huffed out, giving a little laugh to cover up your nervousness.

Time passed by quickly that night, you all spent the night drinking and watching movies, mostly horror movies involving Jamie Lee Curtis since Stu insisted on watching them. Tate was cooped up in Stu’s room with him, Randy had passed out on the couch and Sidney and Billy were probably in the guest room fast asleep. You had snuck out into the backyard, letting your mind wander once again as you stared up at the stars. Your phone began to ring, you stared at it and debated answering before seeing it was Sidney’s number. You sighed and picked it up, wondering if she needed anything. “Hey,” you answered, hearing a familiar voice. “The Machers, huh? Don’t you know not to split up?” The voice questioned, making you sit up. “You let me live, why are you calling?” You asked, looking around before standing and heading back for the door to get inside. “I wanted to talk to my fan, I saw all your papers. Thought you would like a phone call, or are you mad I didn’t slit that pretty little throat,” the person taunted as you messed around with the doorknob, it had locked behind you when you left. “That was before I realized I was on your kill list,” you retorted, heading around the house to the front door to wake Randy up. “No hard feelings, it was before I realized you were a fan. Leave your window open when you’re back at home. I would like to see what my pretty little fan is willing to do for not slitting her throat.” The killer said, chuckling as you blushed a little, about to respond before you heard the beeping that indicated they had hung up. You smiled slightly, happy that they wanted to see you again.

The front door opened, Billy looking at you with panicked eyes and a knife in hand. “Jesus, I thought you were the weirdo, I heard you trying to open the back door,” he said, making you laugh a bit. “Yeah, sorry, the back door was locked,” you said as he moved out of the doorway. “Come on, get inside before you end up like Casey,” he said as you walked in, “not funny, Billy.” You said as you yawned. “Mind if I crash with you and Sid? I don’t want Randy to make any passes,” you asked as Billy laughed, heading to the kitchen to put up the knife. “Be my guest, you and Sid can have the bed, I’ll take the floor.” “What a gentleman,” you teased. “Shut up before I let Randy take a stab at you.” He said, mimicking a stabbing movement as you laughed and pushed him.

#poly!ghostface #poly!ghostface x reader #billy loomis #stu macher #scream au #poly!ghostface x female reader #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #scream x reader #scream1996 #scream 1996 #scream #billy x stu x reader #ghostface #ghostface x reader #obsessed!reader

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depravitycentral · 4 months

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Yandere! Shouta Aizawa NSFW Profile

Yandere! Shouta Aizawa x fem! reader

Tw: mentions of dub-con, masturbation, stalking, kidnapping, voyeurism, toys, clothed sex, hair-pulling, this one is actually kind of soft and feels less yandere-y to me so sorry that this one is a little less creepy than normal, Shouta is a pleaser and lives for your praise, he gets off with a blanket you gifted him, very mild somnophilia, 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, Shouta isn’t that perpetually horny. He’s a busy man with constant stress weighing on his shoulders; working as a pro while being a full-time teacher leaves him drained during the few times he gets to relax, and it’s a lot of work to get himself hard, to get off, and to clean up afterwards.

It’s just not worth it to him – especially because it’s a bit sad to be left with just his fist and some low-grade, unrealistic porn as a man in his thirties, isn’t it?

He doesn’t have a partner, and hasn’t had one for quite some time – there was a girl a decade or so ago, but she didn’t last long, and the sex was subpar at best. And so, Shouta finds himself neglecting any sort of sexual activity most nights that he’s off work, not bothering to get himself all worked up and fuck away some of that pent up stress.

Except, then you show up.

His feelings for you form, and although it takes a long time for them to solidify, it takes an even longer time for them to turn lewd, any sort of sexual thought involving you not really taking root into he’s much further into his obsession.

This is for a few reasons – firstly, he just doesn’t have that high of a libido, and while seeing you naked when he’s watching from outside your window certainly gets him hot and bothered, he isn’t constantly fantasizing about bending you over and fucking you until you’re screaming his name.

(Not never, just not constantly – and at inopportune moments, sometimes. Moments where he really should be focused on the mountains of paperwork on his desk, not focused on how the desk is the perfect height for you to be standing on your tiptoes, ass poised out and your chest pressed against the hard wooden lacquer, your soft skin glistening in the dim light and your pretty thighs twitching and quivering as his fingers press deeper and deeper and deeper -)

Secondly, Shouta’s already feeling such crippling guilt regarding his infatuation with you that adding on overt sexual fantasies for you would push him too far. He already hates that he thinks of you constantly, that he’s always idly worrying about your safety, wanting to know your location and who you’re with and what you’re doing.

He already dislikes that he can’t stop himself from swinging by your apartment at the end of his patrols, making sure that you’re in your bed asleep, safe and sound and looking so fucking pretty in the moonlight. He doesn’t like how wrapped around your finger you have him, so how could he justify wringing himself dry to you, depraved fantasies running through his mind as he imagines the way you’d cream on his fingers, how you’d clench down on him so, so tightly when he fucks you just right?

Shouta can’t – it would breach too many protocols of trust, the friendship formed between the two of you precarious enough as it is with Shouta’s obsessive, disturbing feelings. He doesn’t think of you sexually, banishing every thought from his mind the moment it appears.

Or, at least, that’s what he wishes could be true – unfortunately, his hormones get the better of him sometimes, leaving him rolling around in his bed, cock painfully hard and his mind insistently flashing images of you changing behind his eyelids.

He’s embarrassed, more than anything, that he doesn’t have enough self control to successfully halt any lewd thoughts of you – it’s pathetic, really, because is he so desperate to touch you that he literally can’t stop himself?

Is he really so painfully, pitifully aroused by you that just the mere idea of you licking your lips or smiling at him can get him breathing hard, thankful for the bagginess of his pants?

He hates that the answer is yes, that his body is really that pent up and eager to get you under him, naked and soft and pretty, all for him and only him. It’s demoralizing, but Shouta only has so much restraint – he tries to hold out for as long as he can, really. He swears.

It’s torture at first, popping melatonin and chugging Nyquil, hoping he’ll be able to pass out and sleep off the horniness, but it never quite works. Instead, his dreams are full of you – on your knees, sucking him off so well that your cheeks are literally hollowing, drool spilling down your chin, a string of saliva and precum connecting your puffy lips to his swollen tip when you pull off for air.

He’ll dream of you on your hands and knees, peeking back at him with glassy eyes and biting your lip, clearly embarrassed as you ask him to touch me, please Shouta, I need you…

He always wakes up with soiled sheets, his entire pelvis sticky with now cold cum, and it becomes very, very difficult to look you in the eye that day, only able to conjure up the image of you all tied up in his scarf, your breasts perfectly framed and your thighs spread, slick covering them as you whine his name, desperate for him.

And though he tries to stave off, not letting himself actively fantasize about you sexually while he’s conscious, a particularly rough day of teaching and patrol have him giving up, throwing caution to the wind as he decides that he needs this, that a release is the only way he’ll be able to stay sane.

In the past, the few times he’s masturbated he’s always just fucked his fist, not needing anything too fancy. But for you, something about that feels disrespectful – it’s stupid and he knows it, but the idea of just thrusting into his hand over and over until he eventually spills all over his knuckles seems tacky, low-class, almost offensive to your image, like he’s tarnishing you and the way he idolizes you.

So, he relies on the next best thing he can scrounge up – you’d given him a blanket a few months ago, a birthday present that he’d tried desperately to cover his blush at receiving.

(Hizashi had pitched in, helping you decide which color and texture, having an expert’s opinion so that it would be perfect for the dark-haired man – a level of detail and attention to his desires that still, to this day, makes his heart flutter to think about. You cared, wanting him to be happy, and just that thought leaves his chest swelling with pride, his palms getting a bit clammy and his cheeks feeling too hot.)

He’s kept the blanket on his bed, using it every single night for the limited sleep he manages to get, making sure the material is always, always touching his body. It’s the only way he really feels close to you – the blanket was for him, sure, but you’d touched it, picked it out, held it in your arms while Shouta was dumbly gaping at you and struggling to utter out a strained thank you.

(If he tries hard enough, he thinks he can even smell you on the fabric – it’s not as good as if you were actually here with him, laying in his arms, touching him, but if he strains enough and pretends hard enough, there’s the faintest whiff of you.)

He’s gulping, throwing his uniform off and leaving it crumped up in the corner, before gently, daintily grabbing the edges of the neatly folded blanket (a stark contrast to the harsh pulling and tugging at his costume he’d thrown off moments earlier) and laying it out on the bed.

He lets out a shaky breath, gulping, before tying his hair back into a messy, low ponytail, excitement flitting through him because he’s really about to do it. He’s really about to touch himself to the thought of you, allowing himself to fully indulge in the fantasy that is you, the fantasy that is imagining the way you’d feel against his body, your lips against his own, your hands in his hair and your thighs around his waist.

He’s moving slow as he settles onto his knees on the bed, staring down at the blanket with furrowed brows. This isn’t quite right – the image of you laying before him, body nude and your legs clenched together in anticipation feels very, very right, but there’s something missing.

A thumb comes down to idly rub at the blanket, tracing small circles against the material as he wracks his brain. What’s missing? How can he make this feel like you, like it’s your body he’s touching, like it’s your perfect little cunt he’s fucking?

He’s not sure, but suddenly it hits him – your body, just as he’d been dreaming about.

The blanket doesn’t look enough like you – it’s two dimensional, flat and having no surface area to grip onto, nothing for him to fondle and touch and squeeze.

It needs to have more of your shape – quickly, methodically, he’s reaching down, grabbing handfuls of the blanket and bunching it up, forming a shape that vaguely resembles your torso. He’s careful to get the exact shape of your waist and hips, making sure to leave mounds of crumpled blanket to represent your breasts, even creating a little space between your thighs that represents something soft, something warm and wet and tight – your precious little pussy, something Shouta would literally kill to feel.

He gulps as he looks down at his work, the atmosphere suddenly seeming much thicker, heavier, hotter, because now, the solid colored blanket seems like you, at least having your body shape and your vague proportions. Aizawa lets his hand run down what would be your side, pausing right over your pretend hip.

Fuck, he mutters under his breath, before shifting forward slightly, letting his weight rest on his knees and one hand as he carefully guides his cock to the space between your crafted thighs.

He’d been careful to leave a fold in the fabric, a pouch of sorts – a place for him to push into, slowly spreading the two layers, trying to mimic the way your pretty lips would part for him, your walls sucking him and clenching him nice and tight, wanting to keep him inside and never let him pull out.

Shouta curses as he rubs his tip against the fabric, noting with a small, far-away sense of disdain that there’s precum smearing all along the fabric, certainly leaving a stain that he’ll have to scrub out later. His thumb comes up to gently swipe along where he imagines your cheek to be, even feeling phantom sensations of warmth, of softness, just as you’d be.

He leans down slowly, throat bobbing, before letting his eyes flutter closed, his lips pressing against the blanket – right where he imagines your own to be. The kiss is soft, gentle, heartfelt, his tongue flicking out to lick against the blanket material, groaning and wishing it was your own tongue meeting his, your own spit coating his lips.

As he gets closer, body inching further down until his chest pressed up against what’s supposed to be your breasts, he shuffles his hips forward, pushing past the fabric fold and into you. He groans, pulling back from the kiss to rest his forehead against where he imagines yours to be, letting his eyes shut tight, nearly squeezing them closed as he slowly rocks his hips.

The friction of the blanket feels a bit strange, not how you’d feel, but it’s better than nothing – and it’s so, so very easy to imagine you instead; your warm, slick walls, the way you’d squeeze at him when he brushes up against your spot, the way your legs would wrap around his hips, hooking your ankles and pulling him in closer, begging him to go deeper. He sighs out, biting his lip and furrowing his brow, the pleasure slowly beginning to mount.

He imagines the way you’d moan his name – he bets you’d be airy, a soft sound that gets his hips stuttering ever so slightly because he knows the way his name would sound spilling from your lips would be heaven, the sultry Shouta upturned at the end as he fucks into you just the slightest bit faster.

His hips pick up their pace at the thought of you crying his name, back muscles flexing as he slowly gets faster and faster, the slow, sweet, intimate pace he’d set blown to dust in the wake of his thighs propelling him forward, hips flying and smacking into the blanket so quickly and harshly that the mattress is shaking, bedframe slightly pounding against the wall.

Shouta groans, low and deep, imagining the way you’d beg him to go faster Shouta please, please please please you feel s’good, wanna come for you! Memories of seeing you touch yourself flash behind his closed eyes, seeing the way your face screwed up in pleasure, how you gripped at your pillows and bucked your hips and trembled and arched your back and gasped and came –

Shouta’s chanting your name, his hips sinking into the fold of the blanket over and over, and quickly he’s bringing a thumb down to rub frantic, uneven circles where he imagines your clit to be, desperate to get you coming, wanting to time your orgasm with his.

Fuck, come for me baby, give it to me, god you’re s’damn tight fuuuck - !

His eyes fly open as spurts of warm, milky cum spray from his tip, getting all over the blanket and making his hips stutter and jerk, the sensation of coming in something leaving his arms feeling weak.

He’s panting, still saying your name under his breath, dark hair falling around his face as his thighs flex and clench, the last bits of cum dribbling from his tip and leaving him feeling spent. He can’t help but imagine the way you’d take him, if you’d thank him for giving him everything he has to offer, if you’d hold onto him until you both caught your breath, if your walls would still flutter and clench sporadically even after you’d come down from your high.

He closes his eyes again, heart practically in his throat as he leans down once more to kiss the blanket, tongue sneaking out and wet noises filling the room as spit and drool get slobbered all over the fabric.

He’s still out of breath, panting when he pulls back, but it’s not until he leans back onto his knees and takes a good look at the blanket that his high begins to fade, the reminder that you’re not really there making a sharp feeling dig into his gut.

He stares for a moment, before sighing, slowly pulling out of the blanket and grimacing when he feels cooling cum sliding across his cock, the white mess all over the material and smeared across his skin.

He brings a hand to his forehead, covering his eyes and sighing. What was he doing?

He’d just fucked a blanket – a gift, from you no less – while pretending it was you, his desperation to get you naked and in his grasp strong enough to make him lose him mind.

Pathetic, he was truly pathetic.

He’s ashamed as he throws the blanket into the laundry, hoping the cum stains will come out with all the bleach he’d thrown in alongside it, and as he chugs his coffee, deciding to get to school early and try to collect himself, Shouta can only sigh.

You make him such a fucking fool – a freak, perverted and creepy and gross, and as soon as he catches sight of you in the staff loungeroom, looking all pretty in your simple blouse and slacks, he knows he’s a lost cause, every bit of self-respect falling by the wayside.

Because as soon as he looks at you, all he can think of is how you’d look underneath him, stuffed full of his cum and a dazed, fucked-out expression scrawled across your face. All he can think of is how you’d be absolutely perfect to sink his cock into – and as he darts off to the nearest restroom, desperately trying to get rid of the insistent, raging erection in his pants, he can only sigh, letting his head hang.

He really is a fucking creep.

FAVORITE BODY PARTS

Your thighs

Shouta isn’t one to sexualize women’s bodies. He’s a man with urges, sure, but he’s never had trouble separating sexual attraction from respect for his female friends, even for strangers in the streets. A body is a body, and they aren’t made to be stared at and ogled.

Except where you’re concerned, of course, because while Shouta tries his hardest to not sexualize every thought of you, it’s difficult to hold himself back when he’s so utterly attracted to every single part of you.

It’s hard to not fixate and stare and want when he looks at you, and so while he gives a valiant effort to not obsess over your figure in a less than innocent way, eventually he can’t help himself.

And Shouta discovers that while he loves every inch of you, there’s something about your thighs that drive him absolutely fucking crazy.

Maybe it’s their shape – pretty expanses of your skin that look perfect to grope and squeeze, the soft curves making him salivate in a way that feels almost predatory.

Maybe it’s the way they feel – your skin is so soft, especially if he moves his hands further up, between them, nearing somewhere warm and wet and throbbing.

Maybe it’s the way they feel when they’re around his waist, caging him in and keeping him right where he wants to be, and when they’re around his head?

(Don’t mention the instances where he’s orgasmed just from simply eating you out – it’s embarrassing, and while he won’t deny it, he will change the conversation and pray you don’t see the soft, barely-there pink blooming on his cheeks.)

Maybe it’s even the way you respond when he touches them – how you jump a little bit, his calloused hands feeling a bit cold as they skim along the sides, thumbs pressing into your inner thighs, a comforting finger brushing along the juncture of your legs and pelvic bone.

He’s not entirely sure, but one thing he does know is that just seeing your bare thighs is enough to get him gulping, his dark gaze struggling to move away as he watches the area jiggle and flex while you walk, every step you take only making him want you more and more.

Even before he’s stolen you away, he’s fantasizing about your thighs – he’s bought more pairs of stockings and thigh-highs than he’d care to admit, keeping them neatly organized in a specific drawer in his closet, often fingering the material and biting his lip.

(The image of you wearing them makes him drool, the idea of the top hem squeezing your thigh and making a little bulge appear right above the socks getting his hand wandering down his torso, his fingers making quick word of his belt buckle because fuuuck, would you keep them on while he throws your legs over his shoulders and absolutely destroys you?)

He’s always taking extra time and care to properly worship them when he’s got his head between your legs, letting his lips and tongue trail all along the soft skin, leaving teasing bite marks and hickeys and feeling the way you tremble under his touch because he’s so close yet so far from where you need him.

He’s always got a hand on your thighs when he’s fucking you, his fingers clutching and digging into the skin while he shuts his eyes tight and wills himself to last longer, to prolong the moment, to give you more more more, just like you deserve.

He just really, really likes your thighs, so don’t be surprised when he’s got his hand casually placed on one when you’re watching a movie together, his gaze purposefully not looking at you because you can’t see how flustered he is from touching your clothed thigh in a non-sexual context.

You can’t.

His hands

In general, Shouta lives to please you in bed. He’s by no means submissive (though he could be persuaded if you really, really wanted to be in charge for a night), but he’s a caring partner in every possible sense of the word – sex is about you, and any pleasure he gets from it is just a fun bonus.

And because of this, he takes every opportunity to learn new ways to please you, trying everything from teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue, buying a collection of vibrators, even letting you grind against the expanse of his thigh.

But his favorite method by far is using his fingers on you. They’re thick, with scars and callouses dotting the rough skin, but they’re so gentle with you, always touching you like you’re something fragile and delicate and breakable. He's careful with you when he’s rubbing circles over your clit, the pressure consistent enough to feel good but not too hard, sometimes even teasing you. He’s gentle when he’s running his fingertips over your folds, occasionally dipping in just a hair to feel the warm wetness he wants so very badly to sink into.

(He often sucks in a short, nearly inaudible gasp when he does this, his Adam’s apple bobbing because god you’re wet, and he’ll pull back to lick off his fingers, letting his eyes flutter closed as he tastes you.)

He particularly enjoys fingering you – he’s dexterous, and he always goes slow and purposefully, learning quickly exactly where you like to be touched. He’ll angle the pads of his fingers against that spot inside of you that makes your toes curl, his lip caught between his teeth as he watches your face twist up, hearing your pretty sighs and moans, feeling the way you clench around him, your hips twitching a bit as if to get him deeper, to get more of him. He keeps his pace sensual, the come-hither motion slow and controlled, all the while keeping his thumb pressed firmly against your clit, drawing shapes that stay just consistent enough to get you closer and closer.

All the while, the other hand is gently working at your clit, his fingers expertly getting the exact pressure and pattern you like, making your thighs twitch and your little gasps and mewls louder and more insistent.

And when he’s not actively working between your legs, Shouta’s always got his fingers pleasuring you in other ways – gently kneading at your breasts, pinching and rolling your nipples between a thumb and index finger, groping and squeezing at you like a man starved as his tongue flicks and sucks at your clit.

They’re grasping a handful of your thigh and squeezing reassuringly as he’s fucking you, his pace slow and deep, making sure you feel every possible inch of him as he folds you in half.

He’s even slipping a thumb against your tongue when you take a break to breath, your chest heaving and your fingers wrapped around his girth, a groan slipping from his lips because god, the sight of his precum dribbling down your chin is enough to get his cock twitching on its own. He’ll press down on your tongue, his lip caught between his teeth as you stare up at him, the sight indescribably erotic, a few praises falling from his mouth about how good you look, how pretty you are, how well you take care of him.

(All the while, he’s feeling you suck on his thumb, eagerly running your tongue along the skin and even swallowing around it to give the extra suction. Shouta curses under his breath, and suddenly stands, grabbing you by the hips and forcing you to bend over the chair he’d previously been sitting on, roughly spreading your legs and immediately diving in to lick and suck against your clit, a finger slipping inside of you because he just can’t not touch you after watching you drool all over him.)

He just likes to make you feel good, and while he enjoys pleasuring you with his mouth, nothing can beat the way you moan and shake when he’s working his fingers on you, pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you until you’re incoherent, your poor body trembling, the only thing you can think of him him him.

DRIVE

Though you inspire more sexual desire and drive within him than he’s experienced for the last twenty years, Shouta is still not absolutely desperate to fuck you at all times.

Sure, the idea is nice – being intimate with you is something he craves, but nine times out of ten this intimacy takes the form of simply holding you. Sitting beside you with your head resting on his shoulder, a blanket covering the both of your bodies as you snore softly and cling to him in your sleep, showing that you feel safe with him, that you trust him to protect you.

(Shouta is normally able to keep his staring in check and not be too terribly overt with it, but in times like these he allows himself to openly gape at you, those dark eyes of his examining every detail of your face. Every small wrinkle, every hair and mole, even every lash and baby hair that frames your cheeks. You’re just too damn pretty, and like this he can commit every last detail to memory – as if he hadn’t already, as if he doesn’t sleep at night with your face dancing through his dreams, as if he sees flashes of you in everything he does. As if he isn’t thinking of you as unconsciously as he breaths.)

He generally imagines sleeping with you (and genuinely just sleeping – curling up with you in his arms and his face buried next to your neck, the scent of your body and shampoo filling his senses and making him breathe out something that walks the fine line between a sigh and a moan), the peacefulness and tranquility of just having you close to him in the safety of his protection and home.

It’s a type of intimacy that gets Shouta red in the face, the idea so domestic and taboo and foreign that he comes to crave this on a near constant basis, serving as motivation and a way to calm himself when his students are out of control or a villain is being particularly difficult.

But of course, Shouta is only a man, and men have needs – no matter how he tries to keep his obsession with you as innocent as it possibly can be, sexual thoughts trickle in through the cracks of his mental fortitude and leave him with a phantom wonder of how you’d taste – would you be sweet, like the jellies Hizashi had gotten him? Would you be rich and savory? He hopes you’d have a strong musk to you, a smell that he can breathe in and think of you, something that gets his salivating and his body growing hot and his fingers restless and his breath heavy and labored and god –

He’s hard before he knows it, immediately covering his face with his hands because it’s equal parts embarrassing and terrifying how easily you manage to affect him, just the simple thought of you getting his entire body on edge.

And so he eventually takes up masturbation with you in mind, feeling dirty and disgusting each time he recovers from his orgasmic high, making it more and more difficult to look you in the eye without thinking of all the depraved things he’d imagined doing with you mere hours before.

But Shouta thinks he can survive – sure, he wants to fuck you, needs to kiss you, has to see the face you make when you’re coming, but he can control himself. He won’t succumb to the urge to break into your (frustratingly poorly protected) apartment to run his fingers along your pretty skin and fuck his fist mere inches from your face, no matter how badly his body yells and begs him to. He won’t cross this boundary – it’s hypocritical to think of himself not as a pervert at this point, but it’s the only way he confidently resists you.

Except, then you go and force him into kidnapping you – and now you’re with him nearly all moments of the day, your scent in his bedroom (though he knows you never willingly enter there, and he doesn’t force you to), your body always just a heartbeat away, the idea of holding you and kissing much, much closer now.

And even with the constant temptation, Shouta manages to hold out – it’s torture, really, forcing himself to be a good man and giving you privacy, to not touch you, to not press himself against you and feel the contours of your body against his own, but it’s worth it to him. He can’t force anything – he doesn’t want to scare you, and he has this horrible, sneaking suspicion that if he propositioned you, you’d feel too afraid to say no.

And just the thought is enough motivation to keep him from touching you, to keep him celibate from you purely by his choice – even if it starts affecting him physically.

(He’d never, ever admit it to you, but his lust for you becomes so extreme that if he’s gone more than a week or so without having touched himself to the thought of you while you’re under his care, his cock starts physically hurting when he sees you, his hips involuntarily twitching when he hears your voice, his throat feeling dry and his cheeks blooming bright red because god, he’s never wanted to fuck something so bad.)

And so, Shouta forces himself to be an outstanding man – but no one can be alert every moment of every day, and it’s only a matter of time before you catch him in a moment of weakness. Because really, while Shouta was suffering, you were certainly undergoing a struggle of your own – you’ve been stuck with him for a few months at this point, trapped in his modest apartment with everything you could ever need with one glaring, important exception: human touch.

You don’t necessarily want to be physical with your kidnapper, but as the days pass and you slowly come to accept the fact that you won’t be escaping Eraserhead, things start changing. You’re still understandably frightened of him, worried that although he’s not harmed you in any way and hasn’t forced you into much aside from your captivity, he’ll show his true colors and make your life even more of a living hell.

But that doesn’t happen, Shouta staying that familiar presence you’ve become accustomed to; steady, quiet, consistent. Except the more days that pass, the more you start noticing other things about him – he’s strong, isn’t he? You see it when he walks from the bathroom to his bedroom with the towel tightly fastened at his waist, showing off the lean muscle of his arms and torso.

(He can feel your eyes sometimes, but tries not to dwell on what your staring at his naked chest could mean because getting his hopes up means getting them inevitably crushed.)

He’s awfully attentive, isn’t he? He listens when you speak, those dark eyes boring into you and your every wish – aside from escape – granted without so much as a complaint.

And sometimes, he’s a little attractive, isn’t he? In a rugged, man-ish way – a way that makes you gulp and press your thighs together a bit, because something about the stubble that coats his chin and the veins that litter his hands and forearms makes it difficult to breath correctly.

And then the daydreams start – little thoughts about how it would feel for those hands to touch you, for those lips to brush against your own, for his hair to tickle your neck as he hovers over you, his hips moving slowly and rhythmically against you, gruff grunts of your name filling the air between you.

They scare you at first, really, but soon you can’t stop yourself – you know it’s the lack of human contact that’s influencing you, but as time passes and you grow more desperate to know if he’s as attentive in bed as he is everywhere else, you’ll stop caring.

And Shouta can sense that something’s changing – he feels you watching him, notices the way your eyes follow him through a room, how you suck in the sharpest, smallest breath when he nears you, how you grow stiff when he has to flex a muscle in front of you to lift something heavy. Shouta knows that something is different – but it’s not until you grow brave one day that everything is confirmed.

It’d been a long, tiresome day for Shouta – his class had been especially rowdy today, with a simulation villain attack that the teachers participated in, and of course he’d ended up assigned to spar with Todoroki – meaning he’d been moving about, his muscles tired and sore from multiple hours of repetitive fighting. Then he’d had an extra patrol directly after, the villains particularly restless and causing more trouble than normal. Coupled with a nasty rainstorm that had him half freezing to death, Shouta wanted nothing more than to melt into bed, ideally with you beside him but knowing better than to wish for foolish things.

And when he’d stepped in the front door, you’d been waiting for him, sitting nervously on the couch. You’d stood up, but Shouta – despite feeling slightly more awake and alive at the sight of you, like normal – was still exhausted, already on the brink of unconsciousness as he gruffly greeted you. You looked nervous, twiddling your thumbs and biting your lip, but Shouta was too tired to properly ask about it, only mentally noting to check on you tomorrow.

Slumping towards his bedroom, he was abruptly stopped with you grabbed his hand, his entire body going rigid. Your voice was quiet when you asked him why he always seems to avoid touching you, asking if he didn’t want to, if he was repulsed by the idea of touching, if he was repulsed by you.

And Shouta, still half delirious with exhaustion, let the truth slip from his lips before he could help himself – explaining just how badly he craves to feel you, imagining you in every lewd position he can think of, noticing the way your pajama shirts sometimes grow tight when you sleep and roll over, exposing the outline of your breast and nipple and making him physically stop in his tracks and nearly drool like some horny teenager.

Every secret was spilling out of him, his voice still tired and coarse but making your jaw drop, the admission that he’s been fantasizing about making you a mess on his fingers and tongue and cock stunning you. You’d known Shouta harbored some sort of feelings for you, but this?

When he finishes detailing the fact that he regularly fucks his fist to the thought of you at least twice a week after you’ve fallen asleep, you release his hand, immediately missing the warmth of his skin.

Shouta rubs at his eyes, still not facing you, but muttering a small goodnight and retreating to his room, only realizing what’s happened the next morning. His hands shake and he bolts from his bed, his eyes wide and his heart racing, something horrible and feeling like shame and dread sitting in his chest because why the fuck had he told you that?

Facing you the next day has anxiety sitting in his every nerve, his actions jerky and on-edge, an he’d nearly bolted back to the safety of his room when he sawy you sitting at the kitchen table, but then you’d done something unexpected – you’d walked up to him, stood in silence for a moment, then grabbed his hand. Shouta had been confused, unable to ignore the way your hand fit into his own and the softness of your skin against his, but you’d not given him a chance to even ask questions – soon your lips were on his, and your hand had placed his on something warm and soft and squishy –

Shouta gasped against your lips, the feeling of your breast in his hand and your tongue swiping at his lips nearly making his knees buckle. He didn’t respond to your kiss for a few moments, forcing you to pull back and stare at him, something like worry and rejection reflected in your eyes, but it’s not until you whisper in a very small voice that he snaps out of his stupor.

I want you Shouta, and I know you want me.

You were in his bed moments later, his hands frantic and eager and shaking as he practically ripped off your borrowed pajamas, fingers moving fast and settling over every part of your body, seemingly unable to decide on where to stay.

It was rushed, desperation clouding both of your senses, but as Shouta threw your leg over his shoulder and pressed wet kisses against the juncture of your shoulder and neck, his whispered affirmations of his love for you only had you pulling him closer, adoration and shock and something so happy it nearly hurt filling his chest.

Perhaps, just perhaps, something in you loved him as he loved you.

MAIN THREE KINKS

Clothed Sex

It’s about convenience for Shouta – he’s not lazy in the bedroom, but although he finds you irresistible and is normally willing to expend what very little energy he has on sex with you, he’s willing to take any shortcut he can.

Of course, sex with you in an ideal world sees the both of you completely nude, your bodies pressed as close together as physically possible so that not a breath of space lays between them. He likes being close to you, feeling every inch of you, the intimacy of it unmatched and making Shouta revel in the fact that you’re really there with him, that he’s really getting to touch you, that he’s really getting to kiss you and touch you and fuck you, just as he’s been fantasizing of for months.

But that said, there’s a strange allure to clothed sex – it’s taboo and a little dirty, something that makes him feel a little warm, his palms growing a bit sweaty because it could happen at any time. Whenever the mood strikes him or strikes you, he could simply unzip his pants, shuffle them down a bit and fish out his cock, and he'd be ready to go – already half-hard, the eager anticipation of your touch exciting him from nearly the moment you entered the room.

And it’s easy access to you, too – not that he’d ever take advantage of that fact, your consent still something he asks for every time he touches you. It’s easy to slip your panties to the side, sinking you down onto his lap as he groans and his head lolls back, the feeling of your warmth making his toes curl. He just likes how easy it all is – no time is wasted with struggling to get off your shirt or his pants, and the desperation to be inside you that always seems to overwhelm him at the most inconvenient of times can be attended to that much faster.

He just thinks there’s something so hot about it – he’ll specifically stock you with clothing to wear that makes this easy – flouncy skirts and shorts that make shoving everything to the side and bunching his fist into the cloth to get better leverage while he pounds into you.

He’ll get you tank tops and things that make fishing your breasts out of your top easy, so that they can freely hang and jiggle as he bounces you up and down on his lap, your nipples hardening and shivers racing down your spine as he flicks his tongue at one.

He’ll buy underwear that doesn’t chafe when he shoves it to the side, the pretty sight of lace against your skin making him feral, making him fuck into you harder and more frantically because you almost look like some sort of lewd present when you’re wearing that lingerie – like his very own present, the one thing in the world he wants more than anything else.

And he’ll wear clothing that makes this easy, too – pants that can be unzipped and boxers he can tuck underneath his balls, making sure that nothing gets in the way. And although having sex without clothes is much more common than with clothes, Shouta will surprise you and suddenly press up behind you in the kitchen, telling you that you look too good, that he can’t help himself, that he needs you, and has to fuck you right here, right now, I can’t wait.

And so when you nod, he’ll flip up that skirt of yours – the main culprit for the throbbing between his legs, of course, because the clear view of your legs and thighs makes his mouth water – and slip aside those panties, his cock already out and hard and dripping for you.

It’s spontaneous, more than anything, and it’s one of the only ways in which Shouta is a little carefree with sex – one of the only times that he isn’t serious, or at least as serious.

The main way Shouta likes to engage in clothed sex, though, is through cockwarming. He just likes being close to you – he’s touch-starved, and although he doesn’t have the energy to actually fuck you, he still wants to be inside you, to have your body against his, to have you near and be smelling your scent and hearing your voice.

And so, it’s not a rare occurrence to have him pull you into his arms on his modest leather couch, your frumpy sweatpants and t-shirt (both his, of course, a fact that isn’t lost on him – he will not be washing either of those items when they eventually are off your body) covering your form and his own loungewear covering his.

He’ll shuffle up behind you, pulling you against him so that he’s spooning you, and before long you’ll feel something poking at your ass – something hard and insistent, something that seems to be bobbing and moving every few moments.

Truthfully, Shouta couldn’t say what got him hard – perhaps it was just being with you, or maybe smelling you, or the sight of you in his clothes. It could be any number of things – but his breath hitches as you swallow and carefully tug down the hem of your sweatpants, pressing your exposed ass back against him.

He makes a sound like a low whistle, and then he’s fishing his cock out of his own pants, the tip already wet with precum as he shifts his hips to slip between your legs, propping your leg up over his so that he can push inside. He does so with a small groan, resting his forehead against your back, and he feels you clench down on him.

He’s content to lay there – the warmth of his clothing and from you almost too much, but seeing the way you snuggle deeper into the shirt sending something warm and hot and possessive through his chest. He’ll just pull you against him tighter, the slight shift making the both of you hiss at the small burst of pleasure. He’s content to fall asleep that way – relaxed, his cock still nestled inside of you and hard as a rock, the feeling of your cunt lulling him into dreams filled with you naked and moaning his name, all bouncing breasts and desperate hands and begs for more.

(Don’t be surprised, when this happens, to wake up feeling something dripping out of you – yes, it’s cum and yes, that wet dream was enough to get him there. Don’t mention it, either, because Shouta’s always disappointed that he wasn’t awake for it - after all, call him old-fashioned but finishing inside of you is arguably his favorite selfish part of sex.)

Overstimulation

Shouta is not a stingy lover. In the bedroom, he lives to see you enjoying yourself – it soothes this primal, horrible ache in his chest that yearns or your approval and happiness. A lot of his obsession is born out of a desire to please you and keep you happy and safe, and this translates into making absolutely sure you’re satisfied in every possible way between the sheets.

Sex isn’t really sex until you’ve had at least two orgasms, whether that be because of his fingers or tongue, and only then will he throw your pretty legs up over his shoulders, sinking into you with a sharp exhale and letting his face rest against your sternum as he wills himself to not get too excited, to keep his cool and not rut into you like wild animal. He wants you to enjoy sex with him – he craves intimacy with you and he needs you to crave it too, and he’s hopeful that by giving you the best attention and care in bed, you’ll be more inclined to kiss and hold him, to touch him and whisper those three little words in his ear.

(The three little words that make him gasp and shudder, cum immediately spurting out of his red, swollen tip, his knuckles turning white as he grips onto your thigh and the bedsheets tightly enough to keep himself grounded through the pleasure.)

And so, Shouta finds that there’s something darkly pleasing about being the one to get you orgasming, being the source of your pleasure – seeing your face twist up, your mouth forming that pretty ‘o’ and your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Shouta develops a bit of a sick fascination with seeing just how often he can make you come for him, and from what. It stems from a good place; a genuine desire to make you happy and get you shaking with pleasure and incoherent enough that all you can say is his name.

He likes to choose how you come – will it be his fingers? Will he draw pretty circles on the inside of your thighs, teasing you and feeling the way your breathing picks up a bit, a whine of his name telling him that you’re growing impatient, that you need more, that you need him?

He’ll get closer and closer to your folds, pressing a thumb against them and dipping in ever so slightly, the dull pleasure making you bite your lip, embarrassment eating you alive because it feels so dirty to be teased like this, to keep your legs so wide open for him, to feel the way his eyes are staring at you so fully and intensely, the adoration and lust swimming in those dark depths nearly too much for you handle.

He’ll press two fingers against your clit and get to work, rubbing with light pressure and slowly increasing it, feeling the way the nub gets harder and more swollen, fingers swiping down to collect a bit of your slick to make things easier, the pads of his fingers gliding along your sensitive skin and making your hips jump and twist.

He’ll use his other hand to finger you, rough calloused skin dragging against your walls and pressing right into the spot he knows you love – the one that makes your back arch up, your head pushing back against the pillow, your nails digging into the bedsheets and tangling through his hair. Working you through an orgasm with his fingers is his favorite and what you’ll most likely get – he gets a front row seat, watching with rapt attention as you fall apart for him, feeling the way your thighs tremble and close in around him when you’re right on the edge.

There’s this feeling of power, pride and desire making him light headed and only work harder at his ministrations, ignoring your yelps and gasps of overstimulation because he needs to see that again, to feel the way you clench down onto his fingers so tightly that he has to work to pull them out to thrust back in. You’re just so damn sexy, the sight of you laying before him with your pretty legs spread wide open making him swallow so hard you can hear it.

But of course, Shouta also loves using his mouth to get you off – pink lips attaching to your nipple, sucking and running his tongue over your areola to make you squirm, your little keens making his cock twitch against your thigh.

He’ll kiss at your hips, making a trail down to your clit, giving you little kitten licks while his eyes flick up to look at you, seeing the way you sigh and bite your lip, the rising and falling of your chest making him near feral.

He wants to see you moan and writhe, to feel you grasping at him and needing him, and so his patience wears out and he dives between your legs, slick coating his nose and chin as he licks and sucks and thrusts his tongue against you, eyes closed in concentration and hair getting in his face but he doesn’t care – how can he, when you sound so pretty moaning his name like that?

How can he, when your thighs are clenching around his head and you’re just so fucking wet for him, showing him exactly how much he’s affecting you?

It's euphoric, and soon you’ll be crying out his name and creaming all over his lips, shaking in his grasp so hard that he has to hold you down by the hips to help you ride out the pleasure, the taste of you making him so hard that it hurts.

And god, there’s something about the way you respond to voice and his commands in bed that makes Shouta curse under his breath. You look up at him all wide-eyed, pleasure written across your face as you look to him for guidance, his voice gruff and thick with lust as he tells you to let go, come for me, want to see you come for me.

You immediately furrow your brows and bite your lip, grinding yourself harder against his fingers, feeling the pads of them brush against the spot that has you seeing stars, his name a prayer as you chant it over and over, only stopping to moan or gasp.

The sight is intoxicating, leaving Shouta gaping like a fish with parted lips and heavy breaths, staring at you like you’re something heavenly, divine, unable to tear his gaze away because he still can’t quite believe this is happening, that you’re moaning his name, that you’re letting him touch you and oh, he knows what that change in your facial expression means, how you’re blinding grasping at him, how you’re stuttering out a rushed ‘m coming, Shouta ‘m coming fuck-!

Watching you come undone right before his eyes has Shouta’s cock throbbing, his hips subtly moving against your thigh because he needs friction, the sight of you and the knowledge that he made you this way nearly too much for him to bear.

And when you finally calm down, your breathing wild and your eyes a little glazed over, he’ll just swallow and quickly situate him hips between your legs, gripping himself at the base and impatiently prodding at your entrance, his words dark as he tells you that you’ve got another one in you, give it to me.

When he pushes in – slowly, so as not to hurt you – he lets out a groan, only muffled by the way he leans down to kiss you, feeling the way you tense up and eagerly return the gesture, wrapping your ankles around his waist and pulling him deeper, showing him that you need more more more if you’re going to finish like he wants you to.

And Shouta’s happy to oblige – snapping his hips into you until his muscles are sore and screaming, a thumb relentlessly toying with your clit, his lips against your neck and whispering praise tainted with curses.

He’s encouraging you to feel good, telling you to tell me how it – fuck, how it feels, you’re so goddamn tight, tell me how to fuck you – o-oh…

Because really, while he loves to get you coming and falling apart on his terms, Shouta’s pride flies out the window where you’re concerned – he’d do anything to get you clenching down on him and begging him to finish inside you.

Anything.

Voyeurism

Honestly, it’s a byproduct of having stalked you for such an extended period of time. Watching you was the only way to feel close to you – he wasn’t able to hold you and kiss you, to feel you and lay with you and make you whine his name, and becoming your shadow was the only possible substitution.

And even then, it wasn’t enough – all the guilt he harbors from watching you in your more intimate moments never fades, not even after years of having stolen you away, your pretty body and mind fully his to do as he pleases. He’s still ashamed, but some things he just simply can’t unlearn – and so, even once your sexual relationship begins, Shouta finds himself still utterly excited by the prospect of watching you pleasure yourself.

It’s dirty, horrible, something that makes him feel so guilty he can hardly stand it, but he can’t not stop and watch through the crack in your door when he hears what sounds suspiciously close to muffled whimpers.

He can’t not press his ear against the wooden door, closing his eyes and imagining what you’re doing to yourself – maybe you’re playing with that cute little clit, rubbing it in circles and biting your lip because it just feels so damn good, mimicking the way that Shouta works you up slowly and steadily, getting you so sensitive that your hips jump and twitch at just the slightest bit of pressure against your sensitive nerves.

(He’s had dreams about the way you taste – he thinks you’d be musky, something natural and strong and savory, a taste he wants in his mouth at all hours of the day. And the way you’d tremble and gush for him if it was his fingers and mouth toying with the nub, how you’d tangle your fingers in his hair and pull him closer and closer to you, needing as much of him as possible, needing him him him…)

Maybe you’re sinking your fingers inside of you, working up from one to three, stretching yourself out and imagining it’s him instead, that he’s the one filling you up and making your toes curl, that he’s the one causing all those pretty noises to fall from your lips.

(He knows just how much bigger his own fingers are – he’ll imagine the size difference, his eyes shutting tight when he thinks of how much more he can stretch you out, how much better he can make you feel, how the texture of his fingers must send pleasure up your spine in a way that your soft, comparatively dainty fingers can’t.)

Maybe you’re perched up on a pillow, straddling it with your cunt pressed snugly against the fabric, slick smearing across the cotton as you grind your hips back and forth, hunched over so that the angle is just right, imagining it’s him underneath you and it’s his thigh or cock you’re rubbing against.

(He’s had wet dreams about this sight, always hoping and fantasizing that you’re just so desperate for him that you’re imagining it’s his face you’re riding, his mind conjuring up the sound of your voice moaning out his name and telling him yes yes o-oh fuck yes, Shouta ‘s so good, you feel so good! He’d never seen you riding a pillow during all those months of stalking, but the idea’s just too graphic and wanton and lewd for him to not fantasize about, the idea satisfying the part of him that’s embarrassed and ashamed of just how badly he craves you – because surely if you’re humping some piece of cotton and pretending it’s him, then what does he have to be embarrassed about? Lots, really, but it makes him feel slightly better.)

Or maybe you’ve decided that you want something a little more physical, something to really mimic him – he’d seen you using your vibrator many, many times before he stole you away. His face always turned pink at the sight, his throat going dry and his grip on his capture weapon a little loose as he simply stared, the sight of your pretty body contorting and the plastic held against the crest of your pelvic bone making everything else fade away.

You’re so damn pretty – the way you moan and sigh, how your legs twitch, how your breasts sway and jiggle with every motion, making his fingers ache to reach out and squeeze, to knead and touch and grope, like some sort of pervert.

And this fantasy and mental image has stayed with him long after kidnapping you – once your physical relationship begins and Shouta no longer feels it would make you even more uncomfortable and scared of him, he’s buying you a replacement for that trusty vibrator you used to use to death. He’d left it on your nightstand one morning with a hasty note simply saying I’m gone a lot, I don’t want you to get lonely.

Of course, this is only half the truth – he does want you to be happy, and he doesn’t want you to grow resentful of the times when he’s too exhausted to give you proper sex. But of course, the unspoken portion of this gift is that he wants to watch you use said vibrator – and badly.

He wants to sit in a chair at the side of the bed, legs spread wide as he grips the base of his cock, absentmindedly squeezing at his balls while his dark eyes stay trained on your figure. He wants you to be spread out for him, perhaps a skimpy set of lingerie covering your pretty body (or perhaps none at all, if you’re comfortable with it) with your legs spread wide, the vibrator in your hand hovering against your clit. He wants to hear the steady, dull buzzing sound mixing with your whimpers, to see the way your body tenses up and you whine, feet flexing and shaky breaths slipping past your lips as you slowly work towards your high.

He wants to see the way you eventually grow impatient, changing the vibrator’s setting and immediately crying out, the feeling much more intense and making your orgasm hurtle towards you, getting slick all over the bedspread as you cry out his name and writhe.

And Shouta doesn’t want you to look at him – he doesn’t want you to acknowledge that he’s there. Ignore him, just as you would have back when he was simply watching from outside your window – he wants to watch you, not have a show be put on for him.

You’re just too pretty, and there’s something about watching you that gets him hard as rock, his fist twisting and flicking so quickly it’s nearly a blur as he watches you transition to fucking yourself with the toy, your cries loud and wanton as Shouta grunts and curses under his breath. He wants to finish with you this time, his hips thrusting against his hand in an effort to match the pace you’ve set for yourself. It’s a dirty secret of his, and while Shouta won’t force you into it, just know that he would love to catch you masturbating – just the sight of you pleasuring yourself is enough to get him hot under the collar immediately, hand rushing into his trousers to cup himself because god.

He just likes to watch you, and even during regular sex when he’s folded you in half, those eyes are alternating between watching your face, your bouncing breasts, and your cunt swallowing his cock again and again and again, his cheeks a rosy pink and a bead of sweat dripping from his brow.

You’re just too pretty, he can’t take it – how can he not immediately want to get something of his on you, staining your lovely skin and gorgeous face with his cum?

OTHER NOTABLE KINKS INCLUDE

Hair Pulling

But not on you – unless you like it, in which case he might consider but will only ever do it lightly. He doesn’t like causing pain in general, and would only be willing to do it in very specific scenarios – and even then, it will be as gently as he possibly can.

Rather, Shouta likes when you pull his hair – he doesn’t let most people touch it, and it’s a rare day that he actually runs a comb through it, so as a result his scalp is extremely sensitive. And so, when you tunnel your fingers through his dark locks and pull, Shouta audibly groans, the tingling pain sending pleasure racing down his spine.

There’s just something naughty about it – only you get to touch him like this, so only you get to run your fingers through his hair and tug at it.

He particularly likes when you pull it while he’s got his face between your legs. He likes how your fingers tunnel through it and scrape against his scalp, and he’ll often use it as an indicator of whether he’s doing a good job or not. If you pull often and hard, he knows he’s doing what he needs to do – he’ll keep the pace up and stay in that same spot, doing everything and anything in his power to keep you pulling at it, working through any pain in his jaw or tongue because he needs to make sure you’re feeling good even at his own expense.

When he’s got you perched on his face, your pretty thighs framing his head so that all he can smell and taste and feel is you, he likes to have you reach down and still pull lightly at the roots, your breasts squished together and nipples taut, the visual alongside your taste and the slight pain from his scalp making his eyes roll to the back of his head and precum dribble down his length.

When he’s hovering over you and thrusting into you, balls clapping against your ass and your legs wrapped around his waist, he likes to have you tug at his hair, moaning out and crying his name with each tug and letting his ego swell, each burst of light pain making his hips go harder, faster, deeper, anything to get you louder and clenching around him tighter.

Even when you’re just kissing – simple, innocent kisses full of smiles and his hands gripping you just ever so slightly, Shouta likes to have you running your hands through his hair and tugging lightly, keeping him on his toes and forcing his cock to life.

He just really, really likes to have you touch his hair – it’s something intimate and something he’ll only ever let you do, so really, you should count yourself lucky. Shouta sure does when he’s buried deep inside you, watching your face and feeling your hands in his hair as he gives you every last drop he has to offer.

Mirror Sex

In general, Shouta absolutely loves watching you in bed. He thinks you’re genuinely the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, and when you’re gasping on his cock and moaning his name, you’re even prettier, even more breathtaking and lovely and perfect.

And while he prefers positions where he can see your face, he wants to be able to see your expressions always, even if he’s got you bent over while he presses his back to your chest and mounts you like some sort of wild animal.

And so, to solve this problem, Shouta invests in a modest, simple mirror that he keeps facing the end of your ‘shared’ bed – it’s roughly four feet tall and two feet wide, the perfect size so that when he’s got you on your hands and knees for him, your back arching and your arms threatening to give out, he can watch your eyes roll to the back of your head.

He’ll experiment with the pacing of his thrusts, going deeper and harder to see the way your brows scrunch up, how your jaw drops and the most depraved whine slips out of you, pride and arousal swelling in his chest because he made you make that noise.

He’ll go slower and keep his thrusts brushing against the spots that make you gasp just so that he can see the way your lips twitch.

He’ll speed up, fucking into you so fast that his balls slap lewdly against your ass, the noise filling the room alongside your pants and his groans, watching all the while how your eyes flutter and your back arches. He’ll sit you in his lap facing the mirror, spreading your legs and getting to work with his fingers curling and rubbing inside of you, a thumb circling your clit and his lips at your ear as he tells you to watch, pretty, see how good you look?

He’ll kiss a line from behind your ear, down your neck and over your shoulder, occasionally glancing up to the mirror to make sure you’re actively looking, whispering praises against your skin each time.

And he’ll bring you close to the mirror, too – sitting you only a foot away from the reflective surface, letting you get a nice view of Shouta’s favorite sight – your cunt, all spread out and wet, practically begging for something big, heavy, and throbbing to fill it, to stretch it out and make you see stars.

He’ll spread your lips, exposing your clenching hole, smiling at your reflection and making you tell him that you’re pretty, forcing you to grow comfortable with your body because he knows that it makes you insecure to see so much of yourself, and it drives him crazy.

He’ll even fuck you against the mirror – forcing you to watch your face from mere inches away, your hot breaths fogging up the glass, and he’ll make you come like that – holding your chin straight ahead and telling you to watch, sh-shit, watch, don’t take those fucking eyes off your face in a strained voice.

He just likes getting a good view of you during sex – you’re too pretty not to be seen, after all.

BIGGEST FANTASY

In general, Shouta absolutely loves being intimate with you. While he’s no virgin, he doesn’t have an extensive amount of experience, and frankly he’s never been the biggest fan of sex – it’s too messy, too energy draining, and just a massive hassle.

However, when it’s with you, and when you moan his name just right and leave your nail marks down his back, Shouta will gladly strip his clothing at your beck and call, his lips already on yours before you can even finish your sentence.

And while he loves good, rough, passionate sex that’s full of smacking hips, gasps, moans and growls, there’s something to be said for slower, gentler sex, the kind that’s full of airy breaths and slow, meaningful kisses.

It’s the kind of sex where you can really feel him; every inch of him, the way his body covers yours as he hovers over you, the tickle of his hair against your jaw and neck as he buries his face in the juncture of your shoulder and collarbone, his hips rocking into yours and managing to grind against that one perfect spot that gets you sighing out a moan. It’s just more intimate this way, less of a wild, frantic race to get inside of you and more a slow, controlled love making, as embarrassed as he is to use to term.

Regardless, you’re most likely to get this type of sex from Shouta in two specific scenarios – the first of which being after a very long day, filled with a harrowing patrol where he maybe wasn’t able to save everyone, or things didn’t go according to plan. When this happens, he needs to just hold you, to feel you, to hear you whisper his name under your breath and tell him how good he feels, how he’s the best you’ve ever had, how he’s the only one you’ll ever want…

The second – and far more likely – scenario is in the early hours of the morning, when the sunlight is streaming into the modest apartment he keeps you in, your shared bed feeling warm with your bodies pressed against one another. Soft, sleepy morning sex is Shouta’s favorite, and something that he tries to incite as often as he possibly can.

There’s just something about it that gets him hot under the collar; maybe it’s the casualness of it all, the way it feels so natural, so human and so right, as if your bodies were made for each other. Maybe it’s the way it feels so intimate, like you’re both raw, yourselves in the most wonderful way.

Or maybe it’s the way you’re still just slightly sleepy, and you’re much more likely to be clingy at this time, touching him more and letting your real noises come out, not hindered by any shame or hate or embarrassment.

Regardless, Shouta loves it – so on the rare weekends where he’s off, expect to be woken up on the brink of an orgasm just as you deserve.

A yawn slips past Shouta’s lips, eyes peeling open and seeing the gray of his bedsheets. Everything is warm and soft, and as he shifts slightly, something moves next to him.

Nothing seems real for a few moments as he gazes down at you, your body curled up next to his own. It doesn’t feel real that you’re really here – in his bed without any clothing, happily sleeping without a care in the world. He swallows, something coming over him and moving him slowly – carefully – peel off the covers, moving down to where your legs slightly part.

He leans down, face mere inches away from the tufts of your pubic hair, his eyes fluttering closed as he inhales. You’re perfect – and as he gently pries your legs open further, Shouta can’t help but think of how often he’s fantasized about this very moment – how often he’s dreamt of what’s between your thighs, how he’d lay awake at night and press his fingers between two pillows, grinding his fingers against the cotton and pretending it was you, imagining how warm and wet you’d be for him.

He swallows, determination setting his brow as he lays onto his stomach, shuffling so that he can lightly lick at your inner thighs, eyes closing at the familiar taste of you. He takes his time, going slowly and softly, licking closer and closer to your pretty folds, eventually reaching them and licking his lips at the taste.

A thumb comes up to slowly press against your clit, knowing too much pressure would hurt and not warm your body up the way it needed. He continues his licks, before switching roles and starting to suckle at your clit as a finger dips between your folds, collecting the slick and rubbing it between his fingers.

Soon he’s pressing one inside, feeling the way your thighs twitch slightly, a small, sleepy moan ringing in his ears. God, you’re so damn perfect – even unconscious you’re enough to get his cock throbbing against the cotton sheets.

He keeps his pace slow, but as time passes you stir a bit, and when he hears your sleepy voice mumble out his name, Shouta curses, his fingers speeding up a bit.

That gets you more awake – soon your fingers are carding through his hair, sighs and murmurs of his name sounding like heaven.

“Mm, Shouta, that feels good…” You mumble, still dazed from waking up. Your hips are twitching now, a sign that the pleasure is slowly beginning to build.

Shouta groans against your cunt, the sound muffled.

Soon his fingers are picking up the pace again, his circles and licks at your clit growing more insistent, and the hands weaving through his hair start to tug – the sensation gets him humping at the bed for a moment, the morning glow still shining on you as he glances up at your face. You look like an angel – shining in the sunlight, your lips parted in a moan, head thrown back in pleasure.

Shouta pulls back for a moment, sending a kiss to your clit that makes your hips buck. He chuckles a bit, licking his lips.

“You’re so beautiful..” He whispers against your thigh, pressing open mouthed kisses against the skin. You hum at his compliment, and he watches as you smile, his breath practically punched out of his lungs.

“Shouta, you’re too good to me…” Your voice is soft, too, and soon he’s back to sucking at your clit, feeling the way your body jolts slightly, the pleasure making you sigh and swallow. He watches the movement of your throat.

“Feels good, mm yes, oh Shouta - just like that,” You start, eyes closed again, and Shouta finds himself abandoning the gentle pace he’d adopted, instead being more insistent, more pushy – suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to get you coming on his fingers.

You gasp lightly at the new change in pace, grinding your hips to match the new stimulation, and it makes Shouta dizzy. How can you be so attractive? How can you look so perfect in this moment; in his bed, moaning his name, looking and tasting and smelling like his own personal slice of heaven?

It’s cheesy and he’s almost embarrassed, but tears prick at the corners of his eye.

Soon your gasps have turned to moans, and all too soon you warn him in a slurred voice that you’re coming, your back arching up off the mattress and your moans light and airy as you gush against his fingers, white coating all the way down his knuckles and onto his palms. It makes him choke a bit, the feeling of your cunt rhythmically clenching down on him and your chest heaving, and with a final lick to your clit that makes you jerk, he’s moving up to kiss you.

The kiss is slow, his tongue brushing against yours and wet sound filling the room, but Shouta doesn’t mind. How could he, when he’s never felt this relaxed before?

His eyes slowly open as he feels your fingers wrap around him, a thumb brushing along his tip to collect a bit of the wetness there.

“Shouta, let me make you feel good.” You tell him, your voice just a whisper.

He looks at you, his lips parted for a brief moment, before a small smile quirks up the corners of his mouth. “Why would you do that?”

You trace the line of his jaw with your free thumb. The slow strokes of his cock have him a bit distracted, but he hears every word you speak to him. “Because I love you.”

He swallows, the words making something feel tight in his throat.

You laugh a bit at his silence and the dumbstruck look on his face. “What? Do you not love me too?”

And to answer that, Shouta scoffs, leaning down to kiss you again as he grasps himself around the base, pulling himself away from you and pushing into you, feeling your sharp intake of breath against his lips.

His pace is slow, soft, like he’s trying to tell you something – hips moving slowly and deeply, letting you feel every inch of him. He kisses your neck as your head falls back, your eyes fluttering closed.

Pressing a kiss against your collarbone, Shouta smiles against your skin, a groan falling from his lips.

“I love you, more than you’ll ever know.”

And he means it – you’ll don’t know half of the things he’s done for you, and as he squeezes at your breast and hears your soft moan, he knows he’ll never tell you.

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